Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/210

170 May all the hours be winged with joy,

Which hover faithful hearts above!

Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine

May I with some fond lover sigh!

Whose heart may mingle pure with mine,

With me to live, with me to die!

5.

My native soil! belov'd before,

Now dearer, as my peaceful home,

Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore,

A hapless banish'd wretch to roam!

This very day, this very hour,

May I resign this fleeting breath!

Nor quit my silent humble bower;

A doom, to me, far worse than death.

6.

Have I not heard the exile's sigh,

And seen the exile's silent tear,

Through distant climes condemn'd to fly,

A pensive, weary wanderer here?

Ah! hapless dame! no sire bewails,

No friend thy wretched fate deplores,

No kindred voice with rapture hails

Thy steps within a stranger's doors.