XVI.

Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again,[286] With nought of Hope left--but with less of gloom; The very knowledge that he lived in vain, That all was over on this side the tomb, Had made Despair a smilingness assume, Which, though 'twere wild,--as on the plundered wreck When mariners would madly meet their doom With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,-- Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check.