Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/54

24 Nor one memorial for a breast,

Whose thoughts are all thine own.

4. Nor need I write—to tell the tale

My pen were doubly weak:

Oh! what can idle words avail,

Unless the heart could speak?

5. By day or night, in weal or woe,

That heart, no longer free,

Must bear the love it cannot show,

And silent ache for thee. March, 1811. [First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

FAREWELL TO MALTA.

, ye joys of La Valette!

Adieu, Sirocco, sun, and sweat!

Adieu, thou palace rarely entered!

Adieu, ye mansions where—I've ventured!

Adieu, ye curse'd streets of stairs!

(How surely he who mounts them swears!)

Adieu, ye merchants often failing!

Adieu, thou mob for ever railing! Variants Notes