Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/231

Rh 9.

Yes, once the rural Scene was sweet,

For Nature seem'd to smile before thee;

And once my Breast abhorr'd deceit,—

For then it beat but to adore thee.

10.

But, now, I seek for other joys—

To think, would drive my soul to madness;

In thoughtless throngs, and empty noise,

I conquer half my Bosom's sadness.

11.

Yet, even in these, a thought will steal,

In spite of every vain endeavour;

And fiends might pity what I feel—

To know that thou art lost for ever.

WHEN I ROVED A YOUNG HIGHLANDER.

1.

I rov'd a young Highlander o'er the dark heath,

And climb'd thy steep summit, oh Morven of snow!