1.
When Friendship or Love,
Our sympathies move,
When Truth in a glance should appear,
The lips may beguile,
With a dimple or smile,
But the test of affection's a _tear_.
2.
Too oft is a smile,
But the hypocrite's wile,
To mask detestation, or fear,
Give me the soft sigh,
Whilst the soul telling eye
Is dimm'd, for a time, with a _tear_.
3.
Mild charity's glow,
To us mortals below,
Shows the soul from barbarity clear,
Compassion will melt,
Where this virtue is felt,
And its dew is diffused in a _tear_.
4.
The man doom'd to sail,
With the blast of the gale,
Through billows Atlantic to steer,
As he bends o'er the wave,
Which may soon be his grave,
The green sparkles bright with a _tear_.
5.
The soldier braves death,
For a fanciful wreath,
In Glory's romantic career;
But he raises the foe,
When in battle laid low,
And bathes every wound with a _tear_.
6.
When with high bounding pride,
He returns to his bride,
Renouncing the gore crimson'd spear;
All his toils are repaid,
When embracing the maid,
From her eyelid he kisses the tear.
7.
Sweet scene of my youth,
Seat of Friendship and Truth,
Where Love chac'd each fast-fleeting year,
Loth to leave thee I mourn'd,
For a last look I turn'd,
But thy spire was scarce seen through a _tear_.
8.
Though my vows I can pour,
To my Mary no more,
My Mary to love once so _dear_,
In the shade of her bower,
I remember the hour,
She rewarded those vows with a _tear_.
9.
By another possest,
May she live ever blest,
Her name still my heart must revere,
With a sigh I resign,
What I once thought was mine,
And forgive her deceit with a _tear_.
10.
Ye friends of my heart,
Ere from you I depart,
This hope to my breast is most near,
If again we shall meet,
In this rural retreat,
May we _meet_, as we _part_, with a _tear_.
11.
When my soul wings her flight,
To the regions of night,
And my body shall sleep on its bier;
As ye pass by the tomb,
Where my ashes consume,
Oh! moisten their dust with a _tear_.
12.
May no marble bestow,
The splendour of woe,
Which the children of Vanity rear,
No fiction of fame,
Shall blazon my name,
All I ask, all I wish, is a _tear_.
BYRON, _October 26_, 1806.
* * * * *
REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J.M.B. PIGOT, ESQ. ON THE CRUELTY OF HIS
MISTRESS.
1.
Why PIGOT, complain,
Of this damsel's disdain,
Why thus in despair, do you fret?
For months you may try,
But believe me a _sigh_,
Will never obtain a coquette.
2.
Would you teach her to love,
For a time seem to rove,
At first she may _frown_ in a _pet_;
But leave her awhile,
She shortly will smile,
And then you may _kiss_ your _coquette_.
3.
For such are the airs,
Of these fanciful fairs,
They think all our _homage_ a _debt_;
But a partial neglect,
Soon takes an effect,
And humbles the proudest _coquette_.
4.
Dissemble your pain,
And lengthen your chain,
Nor seem her _hauteur_ to _regret_,
If again you shall sigh,
She no more will deny,
That _yours_ is the rosy _coquette_.
5.
But if from false pride,
Your pangs she deride,
This whimsical virgin forget;
Some _other_ admire,
Who will _melt_ with your _fire_,
And laugh at the _little_ coquette.
6.
For _me_, I adore,
Some _twenty_ or more,
And love them most dearly, but yet,
Though my heart they enthral,
I'd abandon them all,
Did they act like your blooming _coquette_.
7.
No longer repine,
But form this design,
And break through her slight woven net;
Away with despair,
No longer forbear,
To fly from the captious coquette.
8.
Then quit her, my friend!
Your bosom defend,
Ere quite with her snares you're beset;
Lest your deep wounded heart
When incens'd by the smart,
Should lead you to _curse_ the coquette.
BYRON, _October_ 27, 1806.
* * * * *