The Works of Lord Byron, vol 1 | Page 8

sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace. [4to]]
TO D---[1]
1.
In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp
A friend, whom death alone could
sever;
Till envy, with malignant grasp, [i]
Detach'd thee from my
breast for ever.
2.
True, she has forc'd thee from my breast,
Yet, in my heart, thou
keep'st thy seat; [ii]
There, there, thine image still must rest,
Until

that heart shall cease to beat.
3.
And, when the grave restores her dead,
When life again to dust is
given,
On thy dear breast I'll lay my head--
Without thee! where_
would be _my Heaven?
February, 1803.
[Footnote 1: George John, 5th Earl Delawarr (1791-1869). (See note 2,
p. 100; see also lines "To George, Earl Delawarr," pp. 126-128.)]
[Footnote i:
_But envy with malignant grasp,
Has torn thee from my breast for
ever.
[4to]]
[Footnote ii: But in my heart. [4to]]
TO CAROLINE. [i]
1.
Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,
Suffus'd in tears, implore to
stay;
And heard unmov'd thy plenteous sighs,
Which said far more
than words can say? [ii]
2.
Though keen the grief thy tears exprest, [iii]
When love and hope lay
both o'erthrown;
Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast
Throbb'd,
with deep sorrow, as thine own.
3.

But, when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,
When thy sweet lips were
join'd to mine;
The tears that from my eyelids flow'd
Were lost in
those which fell from thine.
4.
Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek,
Thy gushing tears had
quench'd its flame,
And, as thy tongue essay'd to speak,
In sighs
alone it breath'd my name.
5.
And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,
In vain our fate in sighs deplore;

Remembrance only can remain,
But that, will make us weep the
more.
6.
Again, thou best belov'd, adieu!
Ah! if thou canst, o'ercome regret,

Nor let thy mind past joys review,
Our only hope_ is, to _forget!
1805.
[Footnote i: To----. [4to]]
[Footnote ii: than words could say. [4to]]
[Footnote iii: Though deep the grief. [4to]]
TO CAROLINE. [1]
1.
You say you love, and yet your eye
No symptom of that love conveys,

You say you love, yet know not why,
Your cheek no sign of love
betrays.
2.

Ah! did that breast with ardour glow,
With me alone it joy could
know,
Or feel with me the listless woe,
Which racks my heart when
far from thee.
3.
Whene'er we meet my blushes rise,
And mantle through my purpled
cheek,
But yet no blush to mine replies,
Nor e'en your eyes your
love bespeak.
4.
Your voice alone declares your flame,
And though so sweet it
breathes my name,
Our passions still are not the same;
Alas! you
cannot love like me.
5.
For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow,
And though so oft it meets
my kiss,
It burns with no responsive glow,
Nor melts like mine in
dewy bliss.
6.
Ah! what are words to love like mine,
Though uttered by a voice like
thine,
I still in murmurs must repine,
And think that love can ne'er
be true,
7.
Which meets me with no joyous sign,
Without a sigh which bids
adieu;
How different is my love from thine,
How keen my grief
when leaving you.
8.
Your image fills my anxious breast,
Till day declines adown the West,


And when at night, I sink to rest,
In dreams your fancied form I view.
9.
'Tis then your breast, no longer cold,
With equal ardour seems to burn,

While close your arms around me fold,
Your lips my kiss with
warmth return.
10.
Ah! would these joyous moments last;
Vain HOPE! the gay
delusion's past,
That voice!--ah! no, 'tis but the blast,
Which echoes
through the neighbouring grove.
11.
But when awake, your lips I seek,
And clasp enraptur'd all your
charms,
So chill's the pressure of your cheek,
I fold a statue in my
arms.
12.
If thus, when to my heart embrac'd,
No pleasure in your eyes is trac'd,

You may be prudent, fair, and chaste,
But ah! my girl, you do not
love.
[Footnote 1: These lines, which appear in the Quarto, were never
republished.]
TO EMMA. [1]
1.
Since now the hour is come at last,
When you must quit your anxious
lover;
Since now, our dream of bliss is past,
One pang, my girl, and

all is over.
2.
Alas! that pang will be severe,
Which bids us part to meet no more;

Which tears me far from one so dear,
Departing for a distant shore.
3.
Well! we have pass'd some happy hours,
And joy will mingle with
our tears;
When thinking on these ancient towers,
The shelter of our
infant years;
4.
Where from this Gothic casement's height,
We view'd the lake, the
park, the dell,
And still, though tears obstruct our sight,
We
lingering look a last farewell,
5.
O'er fields through which we us'd to run,
And spend the hours in
childish play;
O'er shades where, when our race was done,

Reposing on my breast you lay;
6.
Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,
Forgot to scare the hovering flies,

Yet envied every fly the kiss,
It dar'd to give your slumbering eyes:
7.
See still the little painted bark,
In which I row'd you o'er the lake;

See