Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/154

120 And much she marvelled that a youth so raw

Nor felt, nor feigned at least, the oft-told flames,

Which though sometimes they frown, yet rarely anger dames.

XXXIII.

Little knew she that seeming marble heart,

Now masked in silence or withheld by Pride,

Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art,

And spread its snares licentious far and wide;

Nor from the base pursuit had turned aside,

As long as aught was worthy to pursue:

But Harold on such arts no more relied;

And had he doted on those eyes so blue,

Yet never would he join the lover's whining crew.

XXXIV.

Not much he kens, I ween, of Woman's breast,

Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs;