Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/552

514 Wandering, leaves a tender stain,

Shining through the smoothest white

That e'er did softest kiss invite—

Now seemed with hot and livid glow

To press, not shade, the orbs below,

Which glance so heavily, and fill,

As tear on tear grows gathering still

XI.

And he for her had also wept,

But for the eyes that on him gazed:

His sorrow, if he felt it, slept;

Stern and erect his brow was raised.

Whate'er the grief his soul avowed,

He would not shrink before the crowd;

But yet he dared not look on her;

Remembrance of the hours that were—

His guilt—his love—his present state—

His father's wrath, all good men's hate—

His earthly, his eternal fate—

And hers,—oh, hers! he dared not throw

One look upon that death-like brow!

Else had his rising heart betrayed

Remorse for all the wreck it made.

XII.

And Azo spake:—"But yesterday

I gloried in a wife and son;

That dream this morning passed away;

Ere day declines, I shall have none.

My life must linger on alone;