And then she died on him she could not save.[1]
Their tomb was simple, and without a bust,[2]
And held within their urn one mind—one heart—one dust.N15
LXVII.
But these are deeds which should not pass away,
And names that must not wither, though the Earth
Forgets her empires with a just decay,
The enslavers and the enslaved—their death and birth;
The high, the mountain-majesty of Worth
Should be—and shall, survivor of its woe,
And from its immortality, look forth
In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow,N16
Imperishably pure beyond all things below.
LXVIII.
Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face,
The mirror where the stars and mountains view
The stillness of their aspect in each trace
Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue:[3]
There is too much of Man here,[4] to look through
- ↑ And thus she died——.—[MS.]
- ↑ And they lie simply——.—[MS. erased.]
- ↑ The clear depths yield——.—[MS.]
- ↑ ["Haunted and hunted by the British tourist and gossip-monger, Byron took refuge, on June 10, at the Villa Diodati; but still the pursuers strove to win some wretched consolation by waylaying him in his evening drives, or directing the
