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George Gordon Byron - Herod`s Lament For Mariamne
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Oh, Mariamne! now for thee 
The heart of which thou bled`st is bleeding; 
Revenge is lost in agony, 
And wild remorse to rage succeeding. 
Oh, Mariamne! where art thou? 
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: 
Ah! could`st thou--thou would`st pardon now, 
Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding. 

And is she dead?--and did they dare 
Obey my frenzy`s jealous raving? 
My wrath but doom`d my own despair: 
The sword that smote her`s o`er me waving.-- 
But thou art cold, my murder`d love! 
And this dark heart is vainly craving 
For her who soars alone above, 
And leaves my soul unworthy saving. 

She`s gone, who shared my diadem; 
She sunk, with her my joys entombing; 
I swept that flower from Judah`s stem, 
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming; 
And mine`s the guilt, and mine the hell, 
This bosom`s desolation dooming; 
And I have earn`d those tortures well, 
Which unconsumed are still consuming!
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