Don Juan 01-087
Canto the First

LXXXVII

Silent and pensive, idle, restless, slow,
     His home deserted for the lonely wood,
Tormented with a wound he could not know,
     His, like all deep grief, plunged in solitude:
I'm fond myself of solitude or so,
     But then, I beg it may be understood,
By solitude I mean a sultan's, not
A hermit's, with a haram for a grot.

George Gordon Byron, Lord Byron (1788-1824) ByronLong