WILLY FOUND MALVINA MOURNING. Willy found Malvina mourning, Bath'd her cheeks with pearly tears, Could Malvina think her Willy When her cheek should thus be drooping, These fond arms should often press her, Could Malvina think her Willy, MY NATIVE LAND, ADIEU! Adieu! my native land, adieu ! The vessel spreads her swelling sails; Perhaps I never more may view Your fertile fields and flowery dales. Delusive hope can charm no more; Far from the faithless maid I roam; Unfriended seek some foreign shore, Unpity'd leave my peaceful home. Farewell, dear village, Oh, farewell! Thy spires yet glad mine aching eyes, I'd scorn to shrink at fate's decree; I'll breathe another sigh for thee. In vain thro' shades of frowning night, I view thy beacons now no more. Ye friendly bear me hence to find THE GIRL OF CADIZ. LORD BYRON. Born 1788-Died 1824. Oh never talk again to me Of northern climes and British ladies; It has not been your lot to see, Like me, the lovely Girl of Cadiz. Although her eye be not of blue, Nor fair her locks like English lasses, How far its own expressive hue, Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole From eyes that cannot hide their flashes: And as along her bosom steal In lengthen'd flow her raven tresses, You'd swear each clustering lock could feel And curl'd to give her neck caresses. Our English maids are long to woo, And who, Enchants The Spanish maid is no coquette, And if she love, or if she hate, Alike she knows not to dissemble. The Spanish girl that meets your love She dares the deed and shares the danger; And should her lover press the plain, She hurls the spear, her love's avenger. And when, beneath the evening star, Of Christian knight or Moorish hero, To chaunt the sweet and hallow'd Vesper ; In each her charms the heart must move, May match the dark-eyed girl of Cadiz. ["The girl of Cadiz was found in the original MS. of the first Canto of Childe Harold, in place of the song "To Inez."] SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. LORD BYRON. She walks in beauty, like the night One shade the more, one ray the ess, Or softly lightens o'er her face; And on that cheek and o'er that brow, A heart whose love is innocent! [From the Hebrew Melodies. "These stanzas," says the Editor of Byron's Works, vol. 10, p. 75, "were written by Lord Byron, on returning from a ball-room, where he had seen Mrs. (now Lady) Wilmot Horton, the wife of his relation the present Governor of Ceylon. On this occasion, Mrs. W. H. had appeared in mourning, with numerous spangles on her dress."] THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. LORD BYRON. The Assyrian came down like the wolf in the fold, Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, |