Lord Byron

Well! Thou Art Happy

Well! thou art happy, and I feel That I should thus be happy too; For still my heart regards thy weal Warmly, as it was wont to do. Thy husband’s blest and ’twill impart Some pangs to view his happier lot: But let them pass Oh! how my heart Would hate him if he loved thee not! When late I saw thy favourite child, I thought my jealous heart would break; But when the unconscious infant smiled, I kiss’d it for its mother’s sake. I kiss’d it, and repress’d my sighs Its father in its face to see; But then it had its mother’s eyes, And they were all to love and me. Mary, adieu! I must away: While thou art blest I’ll not repine; But near thee I can never stay; y~ heart would soon again be thine. I deem’d that time, I deem’d that pride, Had quench’d at length my boyish flame; Nor knew, till seated by thy side My heart in all, save hope, the same. Yet was I calm: I knew the time My breast would thrill before thy look; But now to tremble were a crime We met, and not a nerve was shook. I saw thee gaze upon my face, Yet meet with no confusion there: One only feeling could’st thou trace; The sullen calmness of despair. Away! away! my early dream Remembrance never must awake: Oh! where is Lethe’s fabled stream? My foolish heart, be still, or break.

November 2, 1808

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