Note 75 — VOL. XXVI., No. 153.—DECEMBER, 1877.
Reading edition
Byron, however, if we are to take literally the well-known lines in Childe Harold, can scarcely rank with true lovers of our Horace:
“Then farewell, Horace, whom I hated so,
Not for thy faults, but mine; it is a curse
To understand, not feel, thy lyric flow,
To comprehend but never love thy verse.”