Page:The Corsair (Byron).djvu/36

"My Love! thou mock'st my weakness; and would'st steel
"My breast before the time when it must feel.
"But trifle now no more with my distress,
"Such mirth hath less of play than bitterness:
"Be silent,—Conrad!—dearest—come and share
"The feast these hands delighted to prepare—
"Light toil! to cull and dress thy frugal fare!420
"See, I have pluck'd the fruit that promised best,
"And where not sure, perplex'd, but pleased, I guess'd
"At such as seem'd the fairest: thrice the hill
"My steps have wound to try the coolest rill;
"Yes! thy Sherbet to-night will sweetly flow,
"See how it sparkles in its vase of snow!
"The grape's gay juice thy bosom never cheers—
"Thou—more than Moslem—when the cup appears—
"Think not I mean to chide—for I rejoice
"What others deem a penance is thy choice.430
"But come—the board is spread—our silver lamp
"Is trimm'd, and heeds not the Sirocco's damp:
"Then shall my handmaids while the time along,
"And join with me the dance, or wake the song;
"Or my guitar, which still thou lov'st to hear,

"Shall soothe or lull—or, should it vex thine ear,