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From lingering where her Chieftain's blood had been:

Grief had so tamed a spirit once too proud,

Her tears were few, her wailing never loud;

But furious, would you tear her from the spot

Where yet she scarce believed that he was not, 1250 Her eye shot forth with all the living fire That haunts the tigress in her whelpless ire;

But left to waste her weary moments there,

She talked all idly unto shapes of air, Such as the busy brain of Sorrow paints, And woos to listen to her fond com

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Where lay his drooping head upon her knee;

And in that posture where she saw him fall,

His words, his looks, his dying grasp recall; 1260 And she had shorn, but saved her raven hair,

And oft would snatch it from her bosom there,

And fold, and press it gently to the ground,

As if she staunched anew some phantom's wound.

Herself would question, and for him reply;

Then rising, start, and beckon him to fly

From some imagined Spectre in pursuit;

Then seat her down upon some linden's root,

And hide her visage with her meagre hand,

Or trace strange characters along the sand1270

This could not last she lies by him

she loved;

Her tale untold her truth too dearly proved.

HEBREW MELODIES.1

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr Braham and Mr Nathan.

January, 1815.

[The Hebrew Melodies were written during the late autumn of 1814, and early spring of 1815, and were first published ("with appropriate symphonies and accompaniments by I. Braham and I. Nathan"), in April, 1815.]

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.1

I.

SHE walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.

II.

One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express, How pure, how dear their dwellingplace.

III.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
June 12, 1814.

THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.

I.

THE Harp the Monarch Minstrel swept,

The King of men, the loved of
Heaven!

Which Music hallowed while she wept

O'er tones her heart of hearts had

given Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven !

1 [The inspirer of these lines was Anne Beatrix, daughter and co-heiress of Eusebius Horton, of Catton Hall, Derbyshire, who married Byron's cousin, Robert John Wilmot (1784-1841), son of Sir Robert Wilmot of Osmaston. by Juliana, second daughter of the Hon. John Byron, and widow of the Hon. William Byron. She died February 4, 1871.

Nathan (Fugitive Pieces, 1820, pp. 2, 3) has a note to the effect that Byron, while arranging the first edition of the Melodies, used to ask for this song, and would not unfrequently join in its execution.]

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