Remorse and Shame shall cling to thee,
And haunt thee like a feverish dream!
Remember thee! Aye, doubt it not.
Thy husband too shall think of thee:
By neither shalt thou be forgot,
Thou false to him, thou fiend to me!
[First published, Conversations of Lord Byron, 1824.]
Time! on whose arbitrary wing
The varying hours must flag or fly,
Whose tardy winter, fleeting spring,
But drag or drive us on to die—
Hail thou! who on my birth bestowed
Those boons to all that know thee known;
Yet better I sustain thy load,
For now I bear the weight alone.
I would not one fond heart should share
The bitter moments thou hast given;
And pardon thee—since thou couldst spare
- ["To Bd., Feb. 22, 1813.
"'Remember thee,' nay—doubt it not—
Thy Husband too may 'think' of thee!
By neither canst thou be forgot,
Thou false to him—thou fiend to me!
"'Remember thee'? Yes—yes—till Fate
In Lethe quench the guilty dream.
Yet then—e'en then— Remorse and Hate
Shall vainly quaff the vanquished stream."
From a MS. (in the possession of Mr. Hallam Murray) not in Byron's handwriting.]