Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/423

Rh III.

Away! we know that tears are vain,

That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:

Will this unteach us to complain?

Or make one mourner weep the less?

And thou—who tell'st me to forget,

Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet. [Published in the Examiner, April 23, 1815.]

MY SOUL IS DARK.

I.

soul is dark—Oh! quickly string

The harp I yet can brook to hear;

And let thy gentle fingers fling

Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.

If in this heart a hope be dear,

That sound shall charm it forth again: