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Lord Byron


When all around grew drear and dark,

And Reason half withheld her ray ---

And Hope but shed a dying spark

Which more misled my lonely way;

In that deep midnight of the mind,

And that internal strife of heart,

When dreading to be deemed too kind,

The weak despair --- the cold depart;

When Fortune changed --- and Love fled far,

And Hatred's shaft flew thick and fast,

Thou wert the solitary star

Which rose and set not to the last.

Oh !   blest be thine unbroken light !

That watched me as a Seraph's eye,

And stood between me and the night,

For ever shining sweetly nigh.

And when the cloud upon us came,

Which strove to blacken o'er thy ray ---

Then purer spread its gentle flame,

And dashed the darkness all away.

Still may thy spirit dwell on mine,

And teach it what to brave or brook ---

There's more in one soft word of thine

Than in the world's defied rebuke.

Thou stood'st, as stands a lovely tree,

That still unbroke, though gently bent,

Still waves with fond fidelity

Its boughs above a monument.

The winds might rend --- the skies might pour,

But there thou wert --- and still wouldst be

Devoted in the stormiest hour

To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me.

But thou and thine shall know no blight,

Whatever fate on me may fall;

For Heaven in sunshine will requite

The kind --- and thee the most of all.

Then let the ties of baffled love

Be broken --- thine will never break;

Thy heart can feel --- but will not move;

Thy soul, though soft, will never shake.

And these, when all was lost beside,

Were found and still are fixed in thee; ---

And bearing still a breast so tried,

Earth is no desert --- ev'n to me.


Stanzas to Augusta (2)

Epistle to Augusta


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