CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE

CANTO THE THIRD.

I.

   Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child!

   Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart?

   When last I saw thy young blue eyes, they smiled,

   And then we parted,—not as now we part,

   But with a hope.—

                    Awaking with a start,

   The waters heave around me; and on high

   The winds lift up their voices:  I depart,

   Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,

When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.

• Lord Bryron, 1816

The Rainbow

Bow down in hope, in thanks, all ye who mourn;-

   where'in that peerless arche of radiant hues

   surpassing early tints,-the storm subdues!

Of nature's strife and tears 'tis heaven-born,

To soothe the sad, the sinning and the forlorn;-

   A lovely loving token; to infuse;

   The hope, the faith, that pow'r divine endures

With latent good, the woes by which we're torn.

'Tis like a sweet repentance of the skies;

   To beckon all those by sense of sin opprest,

   Revealing harmony from tears and sighs!

A pledge:-that deep implanted in the breast

   A hidden light may burn that never dies,

But bursts thro' clouds in purest hues exprest!

- Ada Byron Lovelace, 1850