Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/292

252 4.

Then say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed

Your lover should bid you a lasting adieu:

Till Fate can ordain that his bosom shall bleed,

His Soul, his Existence, are centred in you. 1807. [First published, 1832.]

TO THE AUTHOR OF A SONNET

BEGINNING "'SAD IS MY VERSE,' YOU SAY, 'AND YET NO TEAR.'"

1.

verse is "sad" enough, no doubt:

A devilish deal more sad than witty!

Why we should weep I can't find out,

Unless for thee we weep in pity.

2.

Yet there is one I pity more;

And much, alas! I think he needs it:

For he, I'm sure, will suffer sore,

Who, to his own misfortune, reads it.

3.

Thy rhymes, without the aid of magic,

May once be read—but never after:

Yet their effect's by no means tragic,

Although by far too dull for laughter.