Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/68

"'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,^{[lower-roman 1]}
⁠"That Thyrza cannot know my pains:"
Like freedom to the time-worn slave—^{[lower-roman 2]}
⁠A boon 'tis idle then to give—
Relenting Nature vainly gave^{[decimal 1]}
⁠My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!

6.

My Thyrza's pledge in better days,^{[lower-roman 3]}
⁠When Love and Life alike were new!
How different now thou meet'st my gaze!
⁠How tinged by time with Sorrow's hue!
The heart that gave itself with thee
⁠Is silent—ah, were mine as still!
Though cold as e'en the dead can be,
⁠It feels, it sickens with the chill.

7.

Thou bitter pledge! thou mournful token!
⁠Though painful, welcome to my breast!
Still, still, preserve that love unbroken,
⁠Or break the heart to which thou'rt pressed.
Time tempers Love, but not removes,
⁠More hallowed when its Hope is fled:
Oh! what are thousand living loves
⁠To that which cannot quit the dead?

[First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

Variants

1. —— how oft I said.—[MS. erased.]
2. Like freedom to the worn-out slave.—[MS.]
   But Health and life returned and gave,
   ⁠A boon 'twas idle then to give,
   Relenting Health in mocking gave.—[MS. B. M. erased.]
3. Dear simple gift ——.—[MS. erased.]

Notes

1. [Compare My Epitaph: "Youth, Nature and relenting Jove."—Letter to Hodgson, October 3, 1810, Letters, 1898, i. 298.]