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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/320

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For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.


Thy husband's blest—and 'twill impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot:[1]
But let them pass—Oh! how my heart
Would hate him if he loved thee not!


When late I saw thy favourite child,
I thought my jealous heart would break;
But when the unconscious infant smil'd,
I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.


I kiss'd it,—and repress'd my sighs
Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother's eyes,
And they were all to love and me.


Mary, adieu! I must away:
While thou art blest I'll not repine;
But near thee I can never stay;
My heart would soon again be thine.

  1. Some pang to see my rival's lot.—[MS. L.]
  2. MS. L. inserts—

    Poor little pledge of mutual love,
    I would not hurt a hair of thee,
    Although thy birth should chance to prove
    Thy parents' bliss—my misery.