1.
This votive pledge of fond esteem,
Perhaps, dear girl! for me
thou’lt prize;
It sings of Love’s enchanting dream,
A theme we never can despise.
2.
Who blames it but the envious fool,
The old and disappointed maid?
Or pupil of the prudish school,
In single sorrow doom’d
to fade?
3.
Then read, dear Girl! with feeling read,
For thou wilt ne’er
be one of those;
To thee, in vain, I shall not plead
In pity for the Poet’s
woes.
4.
He was, in sooth, a genuine Bard;
His was no faint, fictitious
flame:
Like his, may Love be thy reward,
But not thy hapless fate the
same.
[Footnote: 1. Lord Strangford’s
’Poems from the Portuguese by Luis de Camoëns’
and “Little’s” Poems are mentioned
by Moore as having been Byron’s favourite study
at this time (’Life’, P—39).]
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