Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/56

Exist but in imagination,
Mere phantoms of thine own creation;^[1]
For he who views that witching grace,
That perfect form, that lovely face,
With eyes admiring, oh! believe me,
He never wishes to deceive thee:
Once in thy polish'd mirror glance^[2]
Thou'lt there descry that elegance
Which from our sex demands such praises,
But envy in the other raises.—
Then he who tells thee of thy beauty,^[3]
Believe me, only does his duty:
Ah! fly not from the candid youth;
It is not flattery,—'tis truth.^[4]

July, 1804.

ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL.^[5]

Where are those honours, Ida! once your own,
When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne?
As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace,
Hail'd a Barbarian in her Cæsar's place,

1. Mere phantoms of your own creation;
   
   For he who sees.—[4to]
2. Once let you at your mirror glance
   You'll there descry that elegance.—[4to]
3. Then he who tells you of your beauty.—[4to]
4. It is not flattery, but truth.—[4to]
5. [In March, 1805, Dr. Drury, the Probus of the piece,