The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero)/Poetry/Volume 7/To George Anson Byron (?)

by George Gordon Byron

[TO GEORGE ANSON BYRON(?)^[1]]

1.

And, dost thou ask the reason of my sadness?
Well, I will tell it thee, unfeeling boy!
'T was ill report that urged my brain to madness,
'T was thy tongue's venom poisoned all my joy.

2.

The sadness which thou seest is not sorrow;
My wounds are far too deep for simple grief;
The heart thus withered, seeks in vain to borrow
From calm reflection, comfort or relief.

3.

The arrow's flown, and dearly shalt thou rue it;
No mortal hand can rid me of my pain:
My heart is pierced, but thou canst not subdue it—
Revenge is left, and is not left in vain.

? 1816.
[First published, Nicnac, March 25, 1823.]

1. ["A short time before Lord Byron quitted England, in 1816, he addressed these lines to an individual by whom he deemed himself injured; they are but little known."—Nicnac, March 25, 1823.]