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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/552

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Wandering, leaves a tender stain,
Shining through the smoothest white
That e'er did softest kiss invite—
Now seemed with hot and livid glow
To press, not shade, the orbs below,180
Which glance so heavily, and fill,
As tear on tear grows gathering still[1][2]


And he for her had also wept,
But for the eyes that on him gazed:
His sorrow, if he felt it, slept;
Stern and erect his brow was raised.
Whate'er the grief his soul avowed,
He would not shrink before the crowd;
But yet he dared not look on her;
Remembrance of the hours that were—190
His guilt—his love—his present state—
His father's wrath, all good men's hate—
His earthly, his eternal fate—
And hers,—oh, hers! he dared not throw
One look upon that death-like brow!
Else had his rising heart betrayed
Remorse for all the wreck it made.


And Azo spake:—"But yesterday
I gloried in a wife and son;
That dream this morning passed away;200
Ere day declines, I shall have none.

My life must linger on alone;
  1. As tear by tear rose gathering still.—[Revise.]
  2. [Lines 175-182, which are in Byron's handwriting, were added to the Copy.]