Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/85

Rh And when winds are at war with the ocean,

As the breasts I believed in with me,

If their billows excite an emotion,

It is that they bear me from Thee.

III.

Though the rock of my last Hope is shivered,

And its fragments are sunk in the wave,

Though I feel that my soul is delivered

To Pain—it shall not be its slave.

There is many a pang to pursue me:

They may crush, but they shall not contemn;

They may torture, but shall not subdue me;

'Tis of Thee that I think—not of them.

IV.

Though human, thou didst not deceive me,

Though woman, thou didst not forsake,

Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me,

Though slandered, thou never couldst shake;

Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me,

Though parted, it was not to fly,

Though watchful, 'twas not to defame me,

Nor mute, that the world might belie.

V.

Yet I blame not the World, nor despise it,

Nor the war of the many with one;