George Gordon Noel Byron

She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

She bears her down majestically near,
Speed on her prow, and terror in her tier.

But owned that smile, if oft observed and near,
Waned in its mirth, and wither'd to a sneer.

But owned that smile, if oft observed and near,
Waned in its mirth, and wither'd to a sneer.

What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
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What is the worst of woes that wait on age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
To view each love one blotted from life's page,
And be alone on earth as I am now.

Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.

Yet even her tyranny had such a grace,
The women pardoned all, except her face.

Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
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Her eye (I'm very fond of handsome eyes)
Was large and dark, suppressing half its fire
Until she spoke, then through its soft disguise
Flash'd an expression more of pride than ire,
And love than either; and there would arise,
A something in them which was not desire,
But would have been, perhaps, but for the soul,
Which struggled through and chansten'd down the whole.