But the loveliest garden grows hateful
When Love has abandoned the bowers;
Bring me hemlock--since mine is ungrateful,
That herb is more fragrant than flowers.
The poison, when poured from the chalice,
Will deeply embitter the bowl;
But when drunk to escape from thy malice,
The draught shall be sweet to my soul.
Too cruel! in vain I implore thee
My heart from these horrors to save:
Will nought to my bosom restore thee?
Then open the gates of the grave.

As the chief who to combat advances
Secure of his conquest before,
Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances,
Hast pierced through my heart to its core.
Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish
By pangs which a smile would dispel?
Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish,
For torture repay me too well?
Now sad is the garden of roses,
Beloved but false Haidee!
There Flora all withered reposes,
And mourns o'er thine absence with me.

1811.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to).]

ON PARTING.

1.

The kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left
Shall never part from mine,
Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.

2.

Thy parting glance, which fondly beams,
An equal love may see:[o]
The tear that from thine eyelid streams
Can weep no change in me.

3.

I ask no pledge to make me blest
In gazing when alone;[p]
Nor one memorial for a breast,
Whose thoughts are all thine own.

4.

Nor need I write--to tell the tale
My pen were doubly weak:
Oh! what can idle words avail,[q]
Unless the heart could speak?

5.

By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart, no longer free,
Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent ache for thee.

_March_, 1811.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812(4to).]

FAREWELL TO MALTA.[19]

Adieu, ye joys of La Valette!
Adieu, Sirocco, sun, and sweat!
Adieu, thou palace rarely entered!
Adieu, ye mansions where--I've ventured!
Adieu, y