The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/To the Sighing Strephon
TO THE SIGHING STREPHON.
Your pardon, my friend,
If my rhymes did offend,
Your pardon, a thousand times o'er;
From friendship I strove,
Your pangs to remove,
But, I swear, I will do so no more.
Since your beautiful maid,
Your flame has repaid,
No more I your folly regret;
She's now most divine,
And I bow at the shrine,
Of this quickly reforméd coquette.
Yet still, I must own,
I should never have known,
From your verses, what else she deserv'd;
Your pain seem'd so great,
I pitied your fate,
As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.
You say, "When I rove,"
"I know nothing of love;"
'Tis true, I am given to range;
If I rightly remember,
I've lov'd a good number;
Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change.
While my blood is thus warm,
I ne'er shall reform,
To mix in the Platonists' school;
Of this I am sure,
Was my Passion so pure,
Thy Mistress would think me a fool.
And if I should shun,
Every woman for one,
Whose image must fill my whole breast;
Whom I must prefer,
And sigh but for her,
What an insult 'twould be to the rest!
Now Strephon, good-bye;
I cannot deny,
Your passion appears most absurd;
Such love as you plead,
Is pure love, indeed,
For it only consists in the word.
- [The letters "J. M. B. P." are added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated copy of P. on V. Occasions, p. 17 (British Museum).]
- But still.—[4to]
- But since the chaste kiss.—[4to]
- Such wonderful.—[4to]
- I've kissed a good number.—[4to] But——
- I ne'er will advance.—[4to]
- Yet a frown won't affright.—[4to. P on V. Occasions.]
- My mistress must think me.—[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]
- Though the kisses are sweet,
Which voluptuously meet,
Of kissing I ne'er was so fond,
As to make me forget.
Though our lips oft have met,
That still there was something beyond.—[4to]