Lord Byron

Stanzas To A Lady, With The Poems Of Camoëns

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. 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? 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. 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.

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