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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/105

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Though a smile may delight,
Yet a frown will affright[1]
Or drive me to dreadful despair.


While my blood is thus warm,
I ne'er shall reform,
To mix in the Platonists' school;
Of this I am sure,
Was my Passion so pure,
Thy Mistress would think me a fool.[2]


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!


Now Strephon, good-bye;
I cannot deny,

Your passion appears most absurd;
  1. Yet a frown won't affright.—[4to. P on V. Occasions.]
  2. My mistress must think me.—[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]
  3. 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]