12.
Though long and mournful must it be,
The thought that we no more may meet;
Yet I deserve the stern decree,
And almost deem the sentence sweet.
13.
Still—had I loved thee less—my heart
Had then less sacrificed to thine;
It felt not half so much to part
As if its guilt had made thee mine.
1813.
[MS. M. First published, Childe Harold, 1814 (Seventh Edition).]
IMPROMPTU, IN REPLY TO A FRIEND.[52]
When, from the heart where Sorrow sits,
Her dusky shadow mounts too high,
And o'er the changing aspect flits,
And clouds the brow, or fills the eye;
Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink:
My Thoughts their dungeon know too well;
Back to my breast the Wanderers shrink,
And droop within their silent cell.[ce]
September, 1813.
[MS. M. first published, Childe Harold, 1814 (Seventh Edition).]