ter grief
To watch it withering, leaf by leaf,
Than see it plucked to-day;
Since earthly eye but ill can bear
To trace the change to foul from fair.

6.

I know not if I could have borne[bf]
To see thy beauties fade;
The night that followed such a morn
Had worn a deeper shade:
Thy day without a cloud hath passed,[bg]
And thou wert lovely to the last;
Extinguished, not decayed;
As stars that shoot along the sky[bh]
Shine brightest as they fall from high.

7.

As once I wept, if I could weep,
My tears might well be shed,
To think I was not near to keep
One vigil o'er thy bed;
To gaze, how fondly! on thy face,
To fold thee in a faint embrace,
Uphold thy drooping head;
And show that love, however vain,
Nor thou nor I can feel again.

8.

Yet how much less it were to gain,
Though thou hast left me free,[bi]
The loveliest things that still remain,
Than thus remember thee!
The all of thine that cannot die
Through dark and dread Eternity[bj]
Returns again to me,
And more thy buried love endears
Than aught, except its living years.

_February_, 1812.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (Second Edition).]

LINES TO A LADY WEEPING.[bk][35]

Weep, daughter of a royal line,
A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay;
Ah! happy if each tear of thine
Could wash a Father's fault away!
Weep--for thy tears are Virtue's tears--
Auspicious to these suffering Isles;
And be each drop in future years
Repaid thee by thy People's smiles!

_March_, 1812.
[MS. M. First published, _Morning Chronicle_, March 7, 1812
(Corsair, 1814, Second Edition).]

IF SOMETIMES IN THE HAUNTS OF MEN.[bl]

1.

If sometimes in the haunts of men
Thine image from my breast may fade,
The lonely hour presents again
The semblance of thy gentle shade:
And now that sad and silent hour
Thus much of thee can still restore,
And sorrow unobserved may pour
The plaint she dare not speak before.

2.

Oh, par