Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/459

Rh 5. Oh, could I feel as I have felt,—or be what I have been,

Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanished scene;

As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,

So, midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow to me. March, 1815. [First published, Poems, 1816.]

ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF DORSET.

1.

thy fate without a tear,

Thy loss with scarce a sigh;

And yet thou wast surpassing dear,

Too loved of all to die.

I know not what hath seared my eye—

Its tears refuse to start;

But every drop, it bids me dry,

Falls dreary on my heart.

2.

Yes, dull and heavy, one by one,

They sink and turn to care,