The Works of Lord Byron Volume I Part 6

8.

These times are past, our joys are gone, You leave me, leave this happy vale; These scenes, I must retrace alone; Without thee, what will they avail?

9.

Who can conceive, who has not prov'd, The anguish of a last embrace?

When, torn from all you fondly lov'd, You bid a long adieu to peace.

10.

_This_ is the deepest of our woes, For _this_ these tears our cheeks bedew; This is of love the final close, Oh, G.o.d! the fondest, _last_ adieu!

1805.

[Footnote 1: To Maria--[4to]]

FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES: FROM THE "PROMETHEUS VINCTUS" OF AESCHYLUS,

[Greek: Maedam o panta nem_on, K.T.L_] [1]

Great Jove! to whose Almighty Throne Both G.o.ds and mortals homage pay, Ne'er may my soul thy power disown, Thy dread behests ne'er disobey.

Oft shall the sacred victim fall, In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; My voice shall raise no impious strain, 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main.

How different now thy joyless fate, Since first Hesione thy bride, When plac'd aloft in G.o.dlike state, The blus.h.i.+ng beauty by thy side, Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smil'd, And mirthful strains the hours beguil'd; The Nymphs and Tritons danc'd around, Nor yet thy doom was fix'd, nor Jove relentless frown'd, [2]

HARROW, December 1, 1804.

[Footnote 1: The Greek heading does not appear in the Quarto, nor in the three first Editions.]

[Footnote 2: "My first Harrow verses (that is, English, as exercises), a translation of a chorus from the 'Prometheus' of aeschylus, were received by Dr. Drury, my grand patron (our headmaster), but coolly. No one had, at that time, the least notion that I should subside into poetry."--'Life', p. 20. The lines are not a translation but a loose adaptation or paraphrase of part of a chorus of the 'Prometheus Vinctus', I, 528, 'sq.']

LINES

WRITTEN IN "LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN, BY J. J. ROUSSEAU; [1] FOUNDED ON FACTS."

"Away, away,--your flattering arts May now betray some simpler hearts; And _you_ will _smile_ at their believing, And _they_ shall _weep_ at your deceiving."

[Footnote 1: A second edition of this work, of which the t.i.tle is, _Letters, etc., translated from the French of Jean Jacques Rousseau_, was published in London, in 1784. It is, probably, a literary forgery.]

ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING, [i] ADDRESSED TO MISS----.

Dear simple girl, those flattering arts, (From which thou'dst guard frail female hearts,)[ii]

Exist but in imagination, Mere phantoms of thine own creation; [iii]

For he who views that witching grace, That perfect form, that lovely face, With eyes admiring, oh! believe me, He never wishes to deceive thee: Once in thy polish'd mirror glance [iv]

Thou'lt there descry that elegance Which from our s.e.x demands such praises, But envy in the other raises.-- Then he who tells thee of thy beauty, [v]

Believe me, only does his duty: Ah! fly not from the candid youth; It is not flattery,--'tis truth. [vi]

July, 1804.

[Footnote i: _Answer to the above._ [4to] ]

[Footnote ii: _From which you'd._ [4to] ]

[Footnote iii:

_Mere phantoms of your own creation; For he who sees_. [4to]]

[Footnote iv:

_Once let you at your mirror glance You'll there descry that elegance,_ [4to]]

[Footnote v:

_Then he who tells you of your beauty._ [4to]]

[Footnote vi:

_It is not flattery, but truth_. [4to]]