The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 1/Imitated from Catullus

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Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,
A million scarce would quench desire;
Still would I steep my lips in bliss,
And dwell an age on every kiss;
Nor then my soul should sated be,
Still would I kiss and cling to thee:
Nought should my kiss from thine dissever,
Still would we kiss and kiss for ever;
E'en though the numbers did exceed[3]
The yellow harvest's countless seed;
To part would be a vain endeavour:
Could I desist?—ah! never—never.

November 16, 1806.

  1. [From a note in Byron's copy of Catullus (now in the possession of Mr. Murray), it is evident that these lines are based on Carm. xlviii., Mellitos oculos tuos, Juventi.]
  2. To Anna.—[4to]
  3. E'en though the number.—[4to. Three first Editions.]