Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

   Then slowly climb the many-winding way,
   And frequent turn to linger as you go,
   From loftier rocks new loveliness survey,
   And rest ye at ‘Our Lady’s House of Woe;’
   Where frugal monks their little relics show,
   And sundry legends to the stranger tell: 
   Here impious men have punished been; and lo,
   Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell,
In hope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.