Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage (Canto the Fourth), by Lord Byron.

 

~My task is done, my song hath ceased, my theme

Has died into an echo; it is fit

The spell should break of this protracted dream.

The torch shall be extinguish’d which hath lit

My midnight lamp — and what is writ, is writ;

Would it were worthier! but I am not now

That which I have been — and my visions flit

Less palpably before me — and the glow

Which, in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low.~

 

Pretty