Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/422

388 V.

When this blood of thy giving hath gushed,

When the voice that thou lovest is hushed,

Let my memory still be thy pride,

And forget not I smiled as I died!

OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM.

I.

! snatched away in beauty's bloom,

On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;

But on thy turf shall roses rear

Their leaves, the earliest of the year;

And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:

II.

And oft by yon blue gushing stream

Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,

And feed deep thought with many a dream,

And lingering pause and lightly tread;

Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!