Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

Book Excerpting mounds, or in the vale beneath, Are domes where whilom kings did make repair; But now the wild flowers round them only breathe: Yet ruined splendour still is lingering there. And yonder towers the prince's palace fair: There thou, too, Vathek! England's wealthiest son, Once formed thy Paradise, as not awareWhen wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done, Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun. XXIII. Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan. Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow; But now, as if a thing unblest by man, Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou!Here giant weeds a passage scarce allowTo halls deserted, portals gaping wide; Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, howVain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied; Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide. XXIV. Behold the hall where chiefs were la