Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/81

Rh May that fair bosom never know

What 'tis to feel the restless woe,

Which stings the soul, with vain regret,

Of him, who never can forget!" 1806.

TO LESBIA!

1.

! since far from you I've rang'd,

Our souls with fond affection glow not;

You say, 'tis I, not you, have chang'd,

I'd tell you why,—but yet I know not.

2.

Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;

And Lesbia! we are not much older,

Since, trembling, first my heart I lost,

Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.

3.

Sixteen was then our utmost age,

Two years have lingering pass'd away, love!

And now new thoughts our minds engage,

At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!