Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/373

CANTO IV.] X.

My name from out the temple where the dead

Are honoured by the Nations—let it be—

And light the Laurels on a loftier head!

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me—

"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need—

The thorns which I have reaped are of the tree

I planted,—they have torn me,—and I bleed:

I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.

XI. The spouseless Adriatic mourns her Lord,

And annual marriage now no more renewed—

The Bucentaur lies rotting unrestored,

Neglected garment of her widowhood!