STANZAS To her who best can understand them. BY THE LATE RIGHT HON. LORD BYRON. Be it so !-we part for ever! Had I loved, and thus been slighted, Pride may cool what passion heated, Had I loved-I now might hate thee, In that hatred solace seek, Might exult to execrate thee, And, in words, my vengeance wreak. But there is a silent sorrow, Which can find no vent in speech, From the heights that song can reach. Like a clankless chain enthralling,-- Such the cold and sickening feeling Thou hast caused this heart to know, -Stabbed the deeper, by concealing, From the world, its bitter woe! Once it fondly-proudly, deemed thee As its idol and its saint! More than woman thou wast to me ;- Why, like woman, then undo me! Wast thou but a fiend, assuming By that eye which once could glisten By that ear which once could listen By that lip, its smile bestowing, By all those false charms united,- And, without compunction, blighted What thou would'st not kindly kill ! Yet I curse thee not, in sadness,- Live!-and, when my life is over, When thy beauties all are faded,- Ere that hour,-false syren, hear me !— But 'tis useless to upbraid thee TO THE OWL. The following splendid lines were written in reference to a murder, whose details, somewhat disgustingly, occupied the public mind, two years ago. We regret that we are not at liberty to attach to them the name of the author. OWL! that lovest the boding sky! In the murky air,— What sawest thou there ? For I heard, through the fog, thy screaming cry! "The maple's head Was glowing red, And red were the wings of the autumn sky; But a redder gleam Rose from the stream That dabbled my feet, as I glided by !” |