Childe Harold's Pilgrimage 2-62
CANTO THE SECOND.
 
LXII.
 
In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring
Of living water from the centre rose,
Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,
And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,
Ali reclined, a man of war and woes:
Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace,
While Gentleness her milder radiance throws
Along that aged venerable face,
The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace.
 
George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824)
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