Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/172

138 LXI.

Here woman's voice is never heard: apart,

And scarce permitted, guarded, veiled, to move,

She yields to one her person and her heart,

Tamed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove:

For, not unhappy in her Master's love,

And joyful in a mother's gentlest cares,

Blest cares! all other feelings far above!

Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears

Who never quits the breast—no meaner passion shares.

LXII.

In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring

Of living water from the centre rose,

Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,

And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,

reclined, a man of war and woes:

Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace,

While Gentleness her milder radiance throws

Along that agéd venerable face,

The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace.