Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/47

Rh By those lids whose jetty fringe

Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge

By those wild eyes like the roe,

3. By that lip I long to taste;

By that zone-encircled waist;

By all the token-flowers that tell

What words can never speak so well;

By love's alternate joy and woe,

4. Maid of Athens! I am gone:

Think of me, sweet! when alone.

Though I fly to Istambol,

Athens holds my heart and soul:

Can I cease to love thee? No!

Athens, 1810. [First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).] Notes