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And when, beneath the evening star,
She mingles in the gay Bolero,
Of Christian knight or Moorish hero,
Beneath the twinkling rays of Hesper,
To chaunt the sweet and hallow'd Vesper ;
In each her charms the heart must move,
Of all who venture to behold her;
Because her bosom is not colder:
Where many a soft and melting maid is,
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.
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
Meet in her aspect and her eyes :
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the ess,
Had half impair’d the nameless grace
Or softly lightens o'er her face ;
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
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.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf in the fold,
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
(From the Hebrew Melodies.]
KNOW YE THE LAND ?
Know ye the land where the cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime, Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle, Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime? ye
the land of the cedar and vine, Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with per
fume, Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom ; Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit, And the voice of the nightingale never is mute: Where the tints of the earth and the hues of the sky, In colour though varied, in beauty may vie, And the purple of ocean is deepest in dye; Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, And all, save the spirit of man, is divine ? 'Tis the clime of the East, 'tis the land of the sunCan he smile on such deeds as his children have done? Oh! wild as the accents of lover's farewell, Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which
(From the Bride of Abydos.)
The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left,
Shall never part from mine,
Untainted back to thine.
Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,
An equal love may see :
Can weep no change in me.
We will part, -we will fly to-unite it again!
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame : The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart. Were those hours-can their joy or their bitterness We repent-we abjure we will break from our chain,-
I ask no pledge to make me blest
In gazing when alone;
Whose thoughts are all thine own.
My pen were doubly weak :
Unless the heart could speak?
That heart, no longer free,