Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/296

256 8.

Untouch'd, then, my Lyre shall reply to the blast—

'Tis hush'd; and my feeble endeavours are o'er;

And those who have heard it will pardon the past,

When they know that its murmurs shall vibrate no more.

9.

And soon shall its wild erring notes be forgot,

Since early affection and love is o'ercast:

Oh! blest had my Fate been, and happy my lot,

Had the first strain of love been the dearest, the last.

10.

Farewell, my young Muse! since we now can ne'er meet;

If our songs have been languid, they surely are few:

Let us hope that the present at least will be sweet—

The present—which seals our eternal Adieu. 1807. [First published, 1832.]

TO AN OAK AT NEWSTEAD.

1.

Oak! when I planted thee deep in the ground,

I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine;

That thy dark-waving branches would flourish around,

And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine.