Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/53

Rh As the chief who to combat advances

Secure of his conquest before,

Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances,

Hast pierced through my heart to its core.

Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish

By pangs which a smile would dispel?

Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish,

For torture repay me too well?

Now sad is the garden of roses,

Belovéd but false Haidée!

There Flora all withered reposes,

And mourns o'er thine absence with me. 1811. [First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

ON PARTING.

1. kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left

Shall never part from mine,

Till happier hours restore the gift

Untainted back to thine.

2. Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,

An equal love may see:

The tear that from thine eyelid streams

Can weep no change in me.

3. I ask no pledge to make me blest

In gazing when alone; Variants