TRANSIENT BEAUTY. When new desires had conquered thee, And changed the object of thy will, FROM "THE GIAOUR." As, rising on its purple wing, And leads him on from flower to flower, Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die, WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY. BYRON. I LOVED thee once, I'll love no more, Nothing could have my love o'erthrown, It had been lethargy in me, Not constancy, to love thee still. Yea, it had been a sin to go Yet do thou glory in thy choice, Thy choice of his good fortune boast; I'll neither grieve nor yet rejoice, To see him gain what I have lost; The height of my disdain shall be, To laugh at him, to blush for thee; To love thee still, but go no more A begging to a beggar's door. SIR ROBERT AYTON. LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE. LADY Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown; You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I saw the snare, and I retired: The daughter of a hundred Earls, You are not one to be desired. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name ; Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came. Nor would I break for your sweet sake A heart that dotes on truer charms. A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, For were you queen of all that is, I could not stoop to such a mind. You sought to prove how I could love, And my disdain is my reply. The lion on your old stone gates Is not more cold to you than I. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, You put strange memories in my head. Not thrice your branching limes have blown Since I beheld young Laurence dead. O your sweet eyes, your low replies: A great enchantress you may be ; But there was that across his throat Which you had hardly cared to see. |