8. Mine eyes like wintry streams o'erflow: 9. My curdling blood, my madd'ning brain,` And still thy heart, without partaking One pang, exults while mine is breaking. 10. Pour me the poison; fear not thou! And Love, that thus can lingering slay. 11. My wounded soul, my bleeding breast, VOL. IV. F XXVI. A SONG. 1. Thou art not false, but thou art fickle, The tears that thou hast forced to trickle Are doubly bitter from that thought: "Tis this which breaks the heart thou grievest, Too well thou lov'st too soon thou leavest. 2. The wholly false the heart despises, 3. To dream of joy and wake to sorrow 4. What must they feel whom no false vision, As if a dream alone had charmed? XXVII. On being asked what was the "Origin of Love?" THE "Origin of Love!" - Ah why That cruel question ask of me, And should'st thou seek his end to know: But live until I cease to be. XXVIII. Remember him, etc. 1. REMEMBER him, whom passion's power 2, That yielding breast, that melting eye, That gentle prayer, that pleading sigh, 3. Oh! let me feel that all I lost, But saved thee all that conscience fears; And blush for every pang it cost To spare the vain remorse of years. |