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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/64

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POEMS 1809-1813.

The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine;
The song, celestial from thy voice,
But sweet to me from none but thine;
The pledge we wore—I wear it still,
But where is thine?—Ah! where art thou?
Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now!
Well hast thou left in Life's best bloom[1]
The cup of Woe for me to drain.[2]
If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again:
But if in worlds more blest than this
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere,
Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here.
Teach me—too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven:
On earth thy love was such to me;
It fain would form my hope in Heaven![3]

October 11, 1811.
[First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

    (b) The kiss that left no sting behind,
    So guiltless Love each wish forebore;
    Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind,
    That Passion blushed to smile for more.—

    [Pencilled alternative stanzas.]

  • Well hast thou fled ——.—[MS. erased.]
  • If judging from my present pain
    That rest alone ——.—[MS. erased.]
    If rest alone is in the tomb.—[MS.]

  • So let it be my hope in Heaven.—[MS. erased.]