Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/279

Rh 5.

Fields, which surround yon rustic cot,

While yet I linger here,

Adieu! you are not now forgot,

To retrospection dear.

Streamlet! along whose rippling surge

My youthful limbs were wont to urge,

At noontide heat, their pliant course;

Plunging with ardour from the shore,

Thy springs will lave these limbs no more,

Deprived of active force.

6.

And shall I here forget the scene,

Still nearest to my breast?

Rocks rise and rivers roll between

The spot which passion blest;

Yet Mary, all thy beauties seem

Fresh as in Love's bewitching dream,

To me in smiles display'd;

Till slow disease resigns his prey

To Death, the parent of decay,

Thine image cannot fade.