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George Gordon Byron - To Florence
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Oh Lady! when I left the shore,
   The distant shore which gave me birth,
I hardly thought to grieve once more
   To quit another spot on earth:
 
Yet here, amidst this barren isle, 
   Where panting Nature droops the head,
Where only thou art seen to smile,
   I view my parting hour with dread.
 
Though far from Albin`s craggy shore,
   Divided by the dark?blue main; 
A few, brief, rolling seasons o`er,
   Perchance I view her cliffs again:
 
But wheresoe`er I now may roam,
   Through scorching clime, and varied sea, 
Though Time restore me to my home,
   I ne`er shall bend mine eyes on thee:
 
On thee, in whom at once conspire
   All charms which heedless hearts can move,
Whom but to see is to admire, 
   And, oh! forgive the word - to love.
 
Forgive the word, in one who ne`er
   With such a word can more offend;
And since thy heart I cannot share,
   Believe me, what I am, thy friend.
 
And who so cold as look on thee,
   Thou lovely wand`rer, and be less?
Nor be, what man should ever be,
   The friend of Beauty in distress?
 
Ah! who would think that form had past
   Through Danger`s most destructive path
Had braved the death?wing`d tempest`s blast,
And `scaped a tyrant`s fiercer wrath?
 
Lady! when I shall view the walls
   Where free Byzantium once arose,
And Stamboul`s Oriental halls
   The Turkish tyrants now enclose;
 
Though mightiest in the lists of fame,
   That glorious city still shall be;
On me `twill hold a dearer claim,
   As spot of thy nativity:
 
And though I bid thee now farewell,
   When I behold that wondrous scene,
Since where thou art I may not dwell,
   `Twill soothe to be where thou hast been.
 
September 1809.
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