Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/564

526 Like him she saw upon the block

With heart that shared the headsman's shock,

In quickened brokenness that came,

In pity o'er her shattered frame,

None knew—and none can ever know:

But whatsoe'er its end below,

Her life began and closed in woe!

XX.

And Azo found another bride,

And goodly sons grew by his side;

But none so lovely and so brave

As him who withered in the grave;

Or if they were—on his cold eye

Their growth but glanced unheeded by,

Or noticed with a smothered sigh.

But never tear his cheek descended,

And never smile his brow unbended;

And o'er that fair broad brow were wrought

The intersected lines of thought;

Those furrows which the burning share

Of Sorrow ploughs untimely there;

Scars of the lacerating mind

Which the Soul's war doth leave behind.

He was past all mirth or woe:

Nothing more remained below

But sleepless nights and heavy days,

A mind all dead to scorn or praise,

A heart which shunned itself—and yet

That would not yield, nor could forget,