Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/118

78 8.

Yes! yield those lips, for which I'd brave

More than I here shall dare to tell;

Thy innocence and mine to save,—

I bid thee now a last farewell.

9.

Yes! yield that breast, to seek despair

And hope no more thy soft embrace;

Which to obtain, my soul would dare,

All, all reproach, but thy disgrace.

10.

At least from guilt shalt thou be free,

No matron shall thy shame reprove;

Though cureless pangs may prey on me,

No martyr shalt thou be to love.

STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOËNS.

1.

votive pledge of fond esteem,

Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou'lt prize;

It sings of Love's enchanting dream,

A theme we never can despise.