Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/56

24 Though an Emperor's taste was displeased with his haste,

The Devil he thought it clever;

And he laughed again in a lighter strain,

O'er the torrent swoln and rainy,

When he saw "on a fiery steed" Prince Pon,

In taking care of Number One—

Get drowned with a great many!

8.

But the softest note that soothed his ear

Was the sound of a widow sighing;

And the sweetest sight was the icy tear,

Which Horror froze in the blue eye clear

Of a maid by her lover lying—

As round her fell her long fair hair,

And she looked to Heaven with that frenzied air

Which seemed to ask if a God were there!

And stretched by the wall of a ruined hut,

With its hollow cheek, and eyes half shut,

A child of Famine dying: