.... And thus they wander'd forth, and, hand in hand,
Over the shining pebbles and the shells,
Glided along the smooth and hardened sand;
And in the worn and wild receptacles
Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd,
In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells
They turn'd to rest; and each clasp'd by an arm,
Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm.
They look'd up to the sky whose floating glow
Spread like a rosy Ocean, vast and bright;
They gazed upon the glittering sea below,
Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight;
They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low;
And saw each other's dark eyes darting light
Into each other—and beholding this,
Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss.
.... They were alone, but not alone as they
Who shut in chambers think it loneliness;
The silent Ocean, and the starlight bay
The twilight glow, which momently grew less,
The voiceless sands, and drooping caves, that lay
Around them, made them to each other press,
As if there were no life beneath the sky
Save theirs, and that their life could never die.
.... Haidée spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows,
Nor offered any....
She was all which pure ignorance allows,
And flew to her young mate like a young bird....
Alas! They were so young, so beautiful,
So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour
Was that in which the heart is always full,
And, having o'er itself no further power,
Prompts deeds eternity cannot annul....
[371]: «Il y a dix fois plus de vérité, disait Byron, dans Don Juan que dans Childe Harold. C'est pour cela que les femmes n'aiment pas Don Juan.»