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

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.]