Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/76

42 'T was ill report that urged my brain to madness,

'T was thy tongue's venom poisoned all my joy.

2.

The sadness which thou seest is not sorrow;

My wounds are far too deep for simple grief;

The heart thus withered, seeks in vain to borrow

From calm reflection, comfort or relief.

3.

The arrow's flown, and dearly shalt thou rue it;

No mortal hand can rid me of my pain:

My heart is pierced, but thou canst not subdue it—

Revenge is left, and is not left in vain. ? 1816. [First published, Nicnac, March 25, 1823.]

SONG FOR THE LUDDITES.

1.

the Liberty lads o'er the sea

Bought their freedom, and cheaply, with blood,

So we, boys, we

Will die fighting, or live free,

And down with all kings but King Ludd!