The Works of Lord Byron Volume I Part 14

[4to. 'P. on V. Occasions]]

TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. [1]

Sweet girl! though only once we met, That meeting I shall ne'er forget; And though we ne'er may meet again, Remembrance will thy form retain; I would not say, "I love," but still, My senses struggle with my will: In vain to drive thee from my breast, My thoughts are more and more represt; In vain I check the rising sighs, Another to the last replies: Perhaps, this is not love, but yet, Our meeting I can ne'er forget.

What, though we never silence broke, Our eyes a sweeter language spoke; The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, And tells a tale it never feels: Deceit, the guilty lips impart, And hush the mandates of the heart; But soul's interpreters, the eyes, Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.

As thus our glances oft convers'd, And all our bosoms felt rehears'd, No _spirit_, from within, reprov'd us, Say rather, "'twas the _spirit mov'd_ us."

Though, what they utter'd, I repress, Yet I conceive thou'lt partly guess; For as on thee, my memory ponders, Perchance to me, thine also wanders.

This, for myself, at least, I'll say, Thy form appears through night, through day; Awake, with it my fancy teems, In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams; The vision charms the hours away, And bids me curse Aurora's ray For breaking slumbers of delight, Which make me wish for endless night.

Since, oh! whate'er my future fate, Shall joy or woe my steps await; Tempted by love, by storms beset, Thine image, I can ne'er forget.

Alas! again no more we meet, No more our former looks repeat; Then, let me breathe this parting prayer, The dictate of my bosom's care: "May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker, That anguish never can o'ertake her; That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her, But bliss be aye her heart's partaker!

Oh! may the happy mortal, fated [i]

To be, by dearest ties, related, For _her_, each hour, _new joys_ discover, [ii]

And lose the husband in the lover!

May that fair bosom never know What 'tis to feel the restless woe, Which stings the soul, with vain regret, Of him, who never can forget!"

1806.

[Footnote 1:

_Whom the author saw at Harrowgate_.

Annotated copy of 'P. on V. Occasions', p. 64 (British Museum).]

[Footnote i: The Quarto inserts the following lines:--

_"No jealous pa.s.sion shall invade, No envy that pure heart pervade;"

For he that revels in such charms, Can never seek another's arms._]

[Footnote ii:

new joy _discover_.

[4to]]

TO LESBIA! [i] [1]

1.

LESBIA! since far from you I've rang'd, [ii]

Our souls with fond affection glow not; You say, 'tis I, not you, have chang'd, I'd tell you why,--but yet I know not.

2.

Your polish'd brow no cares have crost; And Lesbia! we are not much older, [iii]

Since, trembling, first my heart I lost, Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.

3.

Sixteen was then our utmost age, Two years have lingering pa.s.s'd away, love!

And now new thoughts our minds engage, At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!

4.

"Tis _I_ that am alone to blame, _I_, that am guilty of love's treason; Since your sweet breast is still the same, Caprice must be my only reason.

5.

I do not, love! suspect your truth, With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not; Warm was the pa.s.sion of my youth, One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.

6.

No, no, my flame was not pretended; For, oh! I lov'd you most sincerely; And though our dream at last is ended My bosom still esteems you dearly.

7.

No more we meet in yonder bowers; Absence has made me p.r.o.ne to roving; [iv]

But older, firmer _hearts_ than ours Have found monotony in loving.