Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/155

Rh Your Strong yet just reproof extorts applause

From me, the heedless and imprudent cause;

For this wild error, which pervades my strain,

I sue for pardon,—must I sue in vain?

The wise sometimes from Wisdom's ways depart;

Can youth then hush the dictates of the heart?

Precepts of prudence curb, but can't controul,

The fierce emotions of the flowing soul.

When Love's delirium haunts the glowing mind,

Limping Decorum lingers far behind;

Vainly the dotard mends her prudish pace,

Outstript and vanquish'd in the mental chase.

The young, the old, have worn the chains of love;

Let those, they ne'er confined, my lay reprove;

Let those, whose souls contemn the pleasing power,

Their censures on the hapless victim shower.

Oh! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song,

The ceaseless echo of the rhyming throng,

Whose labour'd lines, in chilling numbers flow,

To paint a pang the author ne'er can know!

The artless Helicon, I boast, is youth;—

My Lyre, the Heart—my Muse, the simple Truth.

Far be't from me the "virgin's mind" to "taint:"

Seduction's dread is here no slight restraint:

The maid whose virgin breast is void of guile,

Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile,