Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/189

Rh FROM ANACREON.

ODE 3.

now the hour when Night had driven

Her car half round yon sable heaven;

Boötes, only, seem'd to roll

His Arctic charge around the Pole;

While mortals, lost in gentle sleep,

Forgot to smile, or ceas'd to weep:

At this lone hour the Paphian boy,

Descending from the realms of joy,

Quick to my gate directs his course,

And knocks with all his little force;

My visions fled, alarm'd I rose,—

"What stranger breaks my blest repose?"

"Alas!" replies the wily child

In faltering accents sweetly mild;

"A hapless Infant here I roam,

Far from my dear maternal home.

Oh! shield me from the wintry blast!

The nightly storm is pouring fast.

No prowling robber lingers here;

A wandering baby who can fear?"