_No more with anguish bravely cope_.--[MS.]

[120] [The hundred and twenty-six lines which follow, down to "Tell me
no more of Fancy's gleam," first appeared in the Fifth Edition. In
returning the proof to Murray, Byron writes, August 26, 1813, "The last
lines Hodgson likes--it is not often he does--and when he don't, he
tells me with great energy, and I fret and alter. I have thrown them in
to soften the ferocity of our Infidel, and, for a dying man, have given
him a good deal to say for himself."--_Letters,_ 1898, ii. 252.]

[ei] {138}
_That quenched, I wandered far in night,_
or, _'Tis quenched, and I am lost in night_.--[MS.]

[ej] _Must plunge into a dark abyss_.--[MS.]

[ek] {139}
_And let the light, inconstant fool_
_That sneers his coxcomb ridicule_.--[MS.]

[el] _Less than the soft and shallow maid_.--[MS. erased.]

[em] _The joy--the madness of my heart_.--[MS.]

[en]
_To me alike all time and place_--
_Scarce could I gaze on Nature's face_
_For every hue_----.--[MS.]
or, _All, all was changed on Nature's face_
_To me alike all time and place_.--[MS. erased.]

[eo] {140}
----_but this grief_
_In truth is not for thy relief._
_My state thy thought can never guess_.--[MS.]

[121] The monk's sermon is omitted. It seems to have had so little
effect upon the patient, that it could have no hopes from the reader. It
may be sufficient to say that it was of a customary length (as may be
perceived from the interruptions and uneasiness of the patient), and was
delivered in the usual tone of all orthodox preachers.

[ep] _Where thou, it seems, canst offer grace_.--[MS. erased.]

[eq] _Where rise my native city's towers_.--[MS.]

[er] _I had, and though but one--a friend!_--[MS.]

[es] {141}
_I have no heart to love him now_
_And 'tis but to declare my end_.--[ms]

[et]
_But now Remembrance murmurs o'er_
_Of all our early youth had been_--
_In pain, I now had turned aside_
_To bless his memory ere I died_,
_But Heaven would mark the vain essay_,
_If Guilt should for the guiltless fray_--
_I do not ask him not to blame_--
_Too gentle he to wound my name_--
_I do not ask him not to mourn_,
_For such request might sound like scorn_--
_And what like Friendship's manly tear_
_So well can grace a brother's bier?_
_But bear this ring he gave of old_,