Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/546

508 And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light

That the Lady walks in the shadow of night;

And if she sits in Este's bower,

'Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower;

She listens—but not for the nightingale—

Though her ear expects as soft a tale.

There glides a step through the foliage thick,

And her cheek grows pale, and her heart beats quick.

There whispers a voice through the rustling leaves,

And her blush returns, and her bosom heaves:

A moment more—and they shall meet—

'Tis past—her Lovers at her feet.

III.

And what unto them is the world beside,

With all its change of time and tide?

Its living things—its earth and sky—

Are nothing to their mind and eye.

And heedless as the dead are they

Of aught around, above, beneath;

As if all else had passed away,

They only for each other breathe;

Their very sighs are full of joy

So deep, that did it not decay,

That happy madness would destroy

The hearts which feel its fiery sway:

Of guilt, of peril, do they deem

In that tumultuous tender dream?

Who that have felt that passion's power,

Or paused, or feared in such an hour?