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Title: To Marion
Author: Lord Byron [
More Titles by Byron]
MARION! why that pensive brow?
What disgust to life hast thou?
Change that discontented air;
Frowns become not one so fair.
'Tis not Love disturbs thy rest,
Love's a stranger to thy breast:
_He_, in dimpling smiles, appears,
Or mourns in sweetly timid tears;
Or bends the languid eyelid down,
But _shuns_ the cold forbidding 'frown'.
Then resume thy former fire,
Some will _love_, and all admire!
While that icy aspect chills us,
Nought but cool Indiff'rence thrills us.
Would'st thou wand'ring hearts beguile,
Smile, at least, or _seem_ to _smile_;
Eyes like _thine_ were never meant
To hide their orbs in dark restraint;
Spite of all thou fain wouldst say,
Still in _truant_ beams they play.
Thy lips--but here my _modest_ Muse
Her impulse _chaste_ must needs refuse:
She _blushes, curtsies, frowns,_--in short She
Dreads lest the _Subject_ should transport me;
And flying off, in search of _Reason_,
Brings Prudence back in proper season.
_All_ I shall, therefore, say (whate'er
I think, is neither here nor there,)
Is, that such _lips_, of looks endearing,
Were form'd for _better things_ than _sneering_.
Of soothing compliments divested,
Advice at least's disinterested;
Such is my artless song to thee,
From all the flow of Flatt'ry free;
Counsel like _mine_ is as a brother's,
_My_ heart is given to some others;
That is to say, unskill'd to cozen,
It shares itself among a dozen.
Marion, adieu! oh, pr'ythee slight not
This warning, though it may delight not;
And, lest my precepts be displeasing,
To those who think remonstrance teazing,
At once I'll tell thee our opinion,
Concerning Woman's soft Dominion:
Howe'er we gaze, with admiration,
On eyes of blue or lips carnation;
Howe'er the flowing locks attract us,
Howe'er those beauties may distract us;
Still fickle, we are prone to rove,
_These_ cannot fix our souls to love;
It is not too _severe_ a stricture,
To say they form a _pretty picture_;
But would'st thou see the secret chain,
Which binds us in your humble train,
To hail you Queens of all Creation,
Know, in a _word, 'tis Animation_.
BYRON, _January_ 10, 1807.
-THE END-
Lord Byron's poem: To Marion
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