Resigning thee, alas! I lost
Joys bought too dear, if bright with tears,
Yet ne'er regret the pangs it cost.—[MS. M. erased.]
[ca] And crush——.—[MS. M.]
[cb] And I been not unworthy thee.—[MS. M.]
[cc] Long may thy days——.—[MS. M.]
[cd] Might make my hope of guilty joy.—[MS.]
[52] [Byron forwarded these lines to Moore in a postscript to a letter dated September 27, 1813. "Here's," he writes, "an impromptu for you by a 'person of quality,' written last week, on being reproached for low spirits."—Letters, 1898, ii. 268. They were written at Aston Hall, Rotherham, where he "stayed a week ... and behaved very well—though the lady of the house [Lady F. Wedderburn Webster] is young, and religious, and pretty, and the master is my particular friend."—Letters, 1898, ii. 267.]
[ce] {70} And bleed——.—[MS. M.]
[53] ["Redde some Italian, and wrote two Sonnets.... I never wrote but one sonnet before, and that was not in earnest, and many years ago, as an exercise—and I will never write another. They are the most puling, petrifying, stupidly platonic compositions."—Diary, December 18, 1813; Letters, 1898, ii. 379.]
[cf] {71} ——Hope whispers not from woe.—[MS. M.]