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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/308

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Remind me not, remind me not,
Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,
When all my soul was given to thee;
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till Time unnerves our vital powers,
And thou and I shall cease to be.

    But as your blood with dangerous passion boils,
    Beware! and fly from Venus' silken toils:
    Ah! let the head protect the weaker heart,
    And Wisdom's Ægis turn on Beauty's dart.


    But if 'tis fix'd that every lord must pair,
    And you and Newstead must not want an heir,
    Lose not your pains, and scour the country round,
    To find a treasure that can ne'er be found!
    No! take the first the town or court affords,
    Trick'd out to stock a market for the lords;
    By chance perhaps your luckier choice may fall
    On one, though wicked, not the worst of all:


    One though perhaps as any Maxwell free,
    Yet scarce a copy, Claribel, of thee;
    Not very ugly, and not very old,
    A little pert indeed, but not a scold;
    One that, in short, may help to lead a life
    Not farther much from comfort than from strife;
    And when she dies, and disappoints your fears,
    Shall leave some joys for your declining years.

    But, as your early youth some time allows,

    Nor custom yet demands you for a spouse,

  1. A Love Song. To ——.—[Imit. and Transl., p. 197.]