Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with per fume, Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom; 'Tis the clime of the East, 'tis the land of the sunCan he smile on such deeds as his children have done? Oh! wild as the accents of lover's farewell, Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell. [From the Bride of Abydos.] ON PARTING. LORD BYRON. The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left, Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, The tear that from thine eyelid streams I ask no pledge to make me blest Nor one memorial for a breast, Whose thoughts are all thine own. Nor need I write to tell the tale By day or night, in weal or woe, I SPEAK NOT, I TRACE NOT! LORD BYRON. I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace cease? We repent-we abjure-we will break from our chain,— We will part, we will fly to-unite it again! Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt! And stern to the haughty but humble to thee, And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet, With thee by my side, than with worlds at our feet. One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love, ["Thou hast asked me for a song," Lord Byron wrote to Mr. Moore, " and I enclose you an experiment which has cost me something more than trouble, and is, therefore, less likely to be worth your taking any in your proposed setting. Now, if it be so, throw it into the fire without phrase." Letter, May 10, 1814.] GENEVIEVE. ST COLERIDGE. Maid of my Love, sweet Genevieve! When sinking low the sufferer wan CATHERINE ORKNEY. CHARLES LAMB. Canadia! boast no more the toils To brighter Catherine Orkney. That such a flower should ever burst From climes with rigorous winter curst !— We bless you, that so kindly nurst This flower, this Catherine Orkney. We envy not your proud display Your greatest pride we've borne away, That Wolfe on Heights of Abraham fell, With rearing Catherine Orkney. O Britain, guard with tenderest care The charge allotted to your share : You've scarce a native maid so fair, So good, as Catherine Orkney. LOVE'S PHILOSOPHY. PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY. Born 1792-Died 1822. The fountains mingle with the river, Nothing in the world is single; See the mountains kiss high Heaven, And the waves clasp one another! No leaf or flower would be forgiven, If it disdain'd to kiss its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea; What are all those kissings worth, If thou kiss not me? |