Childe Harold, I, 2, trad. Pichot, 2e éd., t. IUT, p

Whilome in Albion’s isle there dwelt a youth, Who ne in virtue’s ways did take delight ;

But spent his days in riot most uncouth,

And vex’d with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. Ah, me ! in sooth he was a shameless wight,

Sore given to revel and ungodly glee ;

Few earthly things found favour in his sight, Save concubines and carnal companie,

And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.