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George Gordon Byron - Lines Addressed To A Young Lady
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Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead, 
   Wafting destruction o`er thy charms, 
And hurtling o`er thy lovely head, 
   Has fill`d that breast with fond alarms. 

Surely some envious demon`s force, 
   Vex`d to behold such beauty here, 
Impell`d the bullet`s viewless course, 
   Diverted from its first career. 

Yes! in that nearly fatal hour 
   The ball obey`d some hell-born guide; 
But Heaven, with interposing power, 
   In pity turn`d the death aside. 

Yet, as perchance one trembling tear 
   Upon that thrilling bosom fell; 
Which I, th` unconscious cause of fear, 
   Extracted fromn its glistening cell: 

Say, what dire penance can atone 
   For such an outrage done to thee? 
Arraign`d before thy beauty`s throne, 
   What punishment wilt thou decree? 

Might I perform the judge`s part, 
   The sentence I should scarce deplore; 
It only would restore a heart 
   Which but belong`d to thee before. 

The least atonement I can make 
   Is to become no longer free; 
Henceforth I breathe but for thy sake, 
   Thou shalt be all in all to me. 

But thou, perhaps, may`st now reject 
   Such expiation of my guilt; 
Come then, some other mode elect; 
   Let it be death, or what thou wilt. 

Choose then, relentless! and I swear 
   Nought shall thy dread decree prevent; 
Yet hold-one little word forbear! 
   Let it be aught but banishment.
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