Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/325

CANTO III.] Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught

With desolation, and a broken claim:

Though the grave closed between us,—'twere the same,

I know that thou wilt love me—though to drain

My blood from out thy being were an aim,

And an attainment,—all would be in vain,—

Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life retain.

CXVIII.

The child of Love! though born in bitterness,

And nurtured in Convulsion! Of thy sire

These were the elements,—and thine no less.

As yet such are around thee,—but thy fire

Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher!

Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea

And from the mountains where I now respire,

Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee,

As—with a sigh—I deem thou might'st have been to me!