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George Gordon Byron - Well! Thou Art Happy
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Well! thou art happy, and I feel 
   That I should thus be happy too; 
For still my heart regards thy weal 
   Warmly, as it was wont to do. 

Thy husband`s blest — and `twill impart 
   Some pangs to view his happier lot: 
But let them pass — Oh! how my heart 
   Would hate him if he loved thee not! 

When late I saw thy favourite child, 
   I thought my jealous heart would break; 
But when the unconscious infant smiled, 
   I kiss`d it for its mother`s sake. 

I kiss`d it, — and repress`d my sighs 
   Its father in its face to see;
But then it had its mother`s eyes,
   And they were all to love and me. 

Mary, adieu! I must away: 
   While thou art blest I`ll not repine; 
But near thee I can never stay; 
   y~ heart would soon again be thine. 

I deem`d that time, I deem`d that pride, 
   Had quench`d at length my boyish flame; 
Nor knew, till seated by thy side 
   My heart in all, — save hope,— the same. 

Yet was I calm: I knew the time 
   My breast would thrill before thy look; 
But now to tremble were a crime 
   We met, — and not a nerve was shook. 

I saw thee gaze upon my face, 
   Yet meet with no confusion there: 
One only feeling could`st thou trace; 
   The sullen calmness of despair. 

Away! away! my early dream 
   Remembrance never must awake: 
Oh! where is Lethe`s fabled stream? 
   My foolish heart, be still, or break. 

November 2, 1808
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