Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/89

Rh A spirit of slight patience;—not in vain,

Even for its own sake, do we purchase Pain.

VI.

Perhaps the workings of defiance stir

Within me—or, peihaps, a cold despair

Brought on when ills habitually recur,—

Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air,

(For even to this may change of soul refer,

And with light armour we may learn to bear,)

Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not

The chief companion of a calmer lot.

VII.

I feel almost at times as I have felt

In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks,

Which do remember me of where I dwelt,

Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books,

Come as of yore upon me, and can melt

My heart with recognition of their looks;

And even at moments I could think I see

Some living thing to love—but none like thee.

VIII.

Here are the Alpine landscapes which create

A fund for contemplation;—to admire

Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;

But something worthier do such scenes inspire:

Here to be lonely is not desolate,

For much I view which I could most desire,