The Works of Lord Byron Volume I Part 22

2.

Since your _beautiful_ maid, Your flame has repaid, No more I your folly regret; She's now most divine, And I bow at the shrine, Of this quickly reformed coquette.

3.

Yet still, I must own, [i]

I should never have known, From _your verses_, what else she deserv'd; Your pain seem'd so great, I pitied your fate, As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.

4.

Since the balm-breathing kiss [ii]

Of this magical Miss, Can such wonderful transports produce; [iii]

Since the _"world you forget, When your lips once have met,"_ My counsel will get but abuse.

5.

You say, "When I rove,"

"I know nothing of love;"

Tis true, I am given to range; If I rightly remember, _I've lov'd_ a good number; [iv]

Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change.

6.

I will not advance, [v]

By the rules of romance, To humour a whimsical fair; Though a smile may delight, Yet a _frown_ will _affright,_ [vi]

Or drive me to dreadful despair.

7.

While my blood is thus warm, I ne'er shall reform, To mix in the Platonists' school; Of this I am sure, Was my Pa.s.sion so pure, Thy _Mistress_ would think me a fool. [vii]

8 [viii]

And if I should shun, Every _woman_ for _one,_ Whose _image_ must fill my whole breast; Whom I must _prefer,_ And _sigh_ but for _her,_ What an _insult_ 'twould be to the _rest!_

9.

Now Strephon, good-bye; I cannot deny, Your _pa.s.sion_ appears most _absurd;_ Such _love_ as you plead, Is _pure_ love, indeed, For it _only_ consists in the _word_.

[Footnote 1: The letters "J. M. B. P." are added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated copy of 'P. on V. Occasions', p. 17 (British Museum).]

[Footnote i: 'But still'. [4to]]

[Footnote ii: 'But since the chaste kiss.' [4to]]

[Footnote iii: 'Such wonderful.' [4to]]

[Footnote iv:

'I've kiss'd a good number.

But-----'

[4to]]

[Footnote v:

'I ne'er will advance.'

[4to]]

[Footnote vi:

'Yet a frown won't affright.'

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

[Footnote vii:

'My mistress must think me.'

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

[Footnote viii:

'Though the kisses are sweet, Which voluptuously meet, Of kissing I ne'er was so fond, As to make me forget, Though our lips oft have met, That still there was something beyond.'

[4to]