Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/592

550 2.

When lovers parted

Feel broken-hearted,

And, all hopes thwarted,

Expect to die;

A few years older,

Ah! how much colder

They might behold her

For whom they sigh!

When linked together,

In every weather,

They pluck Love's feather

From out his wing—

He'll stay for ever,

But sadly shiver

3.

Like Chiefs of Faction,

His life is action—

A formal paction

That curbs his reign,

Obscures his glory,

Despot no more, he

Such territory

Quits with disdain.

Still, still advancing,

With banners glancing,

His power enhancing,

He must move on—

Repose but cloys him,

Retreat destroys him,