Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 2.djvu/447

CANTO IV.] CIII.

Perchance she died in age—surviving all,

Charms—kindred—children—with the silver gray

On her long tresses, which might yet recall,

It may be, still a something of the day

When they were braided, and her proud array

And lovely form were envied, praised, and eyed

By Rome—But whither would Conjecture stray?

Thus much alone we know—Metella died,

The wealthiest Roman's wife: Behold his love or pride!

CIV.

I know not why—but standing thus by thee

It seems as if I had thine inmate known,

Thou Tomb! and other days come back on me

With recollected music, though the tone

Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groan

Of dying thunder on the distant wind;