Of all the herd that throng around,
Thy simpering or thy sighing train,
Come tell me who to thee is bound
By Love's or Plutus' heavier chain.
Thy simpering or thy sighing train,
Come tell me who to thee is bound
By Love's or Plutus' heavier chain.
Byron
That thy heart could forget,
Thy spirit deceive.
If I should meet thee[mv]
After long years,
How should I greet thee? --
With silence and tears.
[First published, _Poems_, 1816. ]
[LOVE AND GOLD. [306]]
1.
I cannot talk of Love to thee,
Though thou art young and free and fair!
There is a spell thou dost not see,
That bids a genuine love despair.
2.
And yet that spell invites each youth,
For thee to sigh, or seem to sigh;
Makes falsehood wear the garb of truth,
And Truth itself appear a lie.
3.
If ever Doubt a place possest
In woman's heart, 'twere wise in thine:
Admit not Love into thy breast,
Doubt others' love, nor trust in mine.
4.
Perchance 'tis feigned, perchance sincere,
But false or true thou canst not tell;
So much hast thou from all to fear,
In that unconquerable spell.
5.
Of all the herd that throng around,
Thy simpering or thy sighing train,
Come tell me who to thee is bound
By Love's or Plutus' heavier chain.
6.
In some 'tis Nature, some 'tis Art
That bids them worship at thy shrine;
But thou deserv'st a better heart,
Than they or I can give for thine.
7.
For thee, and such as thee, behold,
Is Fortune painted truly--blind!
Who doomed thee to be bought or sold,
Has proved too bounteous to be kind.
8.
Each day some tempter's crafty suit
Would woo thee to a loveless bed:
I see thee to the altar's foot
A decorated victim led.
9.
Adieu, dear maid! I must not speak
Whate'er my secret thoughts may be;
Though thou art all that man can reck
I dare not talk of Love to _thee_.
STANZAS FOR MUSIC. [307]
1.
I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,[mw]
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame:
But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart
The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.
2. [mx]
Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace,
Were those hours--can their joy or their bitterness cease?