Lord Byron Poem

Adrian’s Address To His Soul When Dying

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Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav’ring sprite,
Friend and associate of this clay!
To what unknown region borne,
Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight?
No more with wonted humour gay,
But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.

A Fragment: When, To Their Airy Hall
Epitaph On a Beloved Friend

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