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Her lover sinks-she sheds no ill-timed tear;
"Childe Harold," canto i., 56.
BY LORD BYRON.
"Like an archangel exiled for dark crimes,
His songs were then remembrances of Heaven,
In which he seem'd constrain'd to live. Yet even
The fire of genius, and, unconscious, bow
To the bright halo which it cast around him."-ANON.
With Eight Illustrations,
BY BIRKET FOSTER, JOHN GILBERT, ETC.
A New Edition.
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL;
NEW YORK: 416, BROOME STREET.