Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/44

14 2. If, when the wintry tempest roared,

He sped to Hero, nothing loth,

And thus of old thy current poured,

Fair Venus! how I pity both!

3. For me, degenerate modern wretch,

Though in the genial month of May,

My dripping limbs I faintly stretch,

And think I've done a feat to-day.

4. But since he crossed the rapid tide,

According to the doubtful story,

To woo,—and—Lord knows what beside,

And swam for Love, as I for Glory;

5. 'Twere hard to say who fared the best:

Sad mortals! thus the Gods still plague you!

He lost his labour, I my jest:

For he was drowned, and I've the ague. May 9, 1810. [First published, Childe Harold, 1812(4to).] Notes