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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/72

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32
HOURS OF IDLENESS.

TO MARY,

on receiving her picture.[1]

1.

This faint resemblance of thy charms,
(Though strong as mortal art could give,)
My constant heart of fear disarms,
Revives my hopes, and bids me live.


2.

Here, I can trace the locks of gold
Which round thy snowy forehead wave;
The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould,
The lips, which made me Beauty's slave.


3.

Here I can trace—ah, no! that eye,
Whose azure floats in liquid fire,
Must all the painter's art defy,
And bid him from the task retire.


4.

Here, I behold its beauteous hue;

But where's the beam so sweetly straying,[2]
  1. [This "Mary" is not to be confounded with the heiress of Annesley, or "Mary" of Aberdeen. She was of humble
  2. But where's the beam of soft desire?
    Which gave a lustre to its blue,
    Love, only love, could e'er inspire.—[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]