I vow'd I could ne'er for a moment respect you,
Yet thought that a day's separation was long;
When we met, I determined again to suspect you—
Your smile soon convinced me suspicion was wrong.
I swore, in a transport of young indignation,
With fervent contempt evermore to disdain you:
I saw you—my anger became admiration;
And now, all my wish, all my hope's to regain you.
With beauty like yours, oh, how vain the contention!
Thus lowly I sue for forgiveness before you;—
At once to conclude such a fruitless dissension,
Be false, my sweet Anne, when I cease to adore you!
January 16, 1807. [First published, 1832.
EGOTISM. A LETTER TO J. T. BECHER.
Ἑαυτὸν Βύρων αἔιδει.
If Fate should seal my Death to-morrow,
(Though much I hope she will postpone it,)
I've held a share of Joy and Sorrow,
Enough for Ten; and here I own it.
- [From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first time printed.]