Yes! yield those lips, for which I'd brave
More than I here shall dare to tell;
Thy innocence and mine to save,—
I bid thee now a last farewell.
Yes! yield that breast, to seek despair
And hope no more thy soft embrace;
Which to obtain, my soul would dare,
All, all reproach, but thy disgrace.
At least from guilt shalt thou be free,
No matron shall thy shame reprove;
Though cureless pangs may prey on me,
No martyr shalt thou be to love.
STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOËNS.
This votive pledge of fond esteem,
Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou'lt prize;
It sings of Love's enchanting dream,
A theme we never can despise.
- [Lord Strangford's Poems from the Portuguese by Luis de Camoëns and "Little's" Poems are mentioned by Moore as having been Byron's favourite study at this time (Life, p. 39).]