[Footnote 1: The cornelian was a present from his friend Edleston, a Cambridge chorister, afterwards a clerk in a mercantile house in London. Edleston died of consumption, May 11, 1811. (See letter from Byron to Miss Pigot, October 28, 1811.) Their acquaintance began by Byron saving him from drowning. (MS. note by the Rev. W. Harness.)] [Footnote i: 'But blushes modest'. [4to]] TO M----[i] 1. Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire, With bright, but mild affection shine: Though they might kindle less desire, Love, more than mortal, would be thine. 2. For thou art form'd so heavenly fair, _Howe'er_ those orbs _may_ wildly beam, We must _admire,_ but still despair; That fatal glance forbids esteem. 3. When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth, So much perfection in thee shone, She fear'd that, too divine for earth, The skies might claim thee for their own. 4. Therefore, to guard her dearest work, Lest angels might dispute the prize, She bade a secret lightning lurk, Within those once celestial eyes. 5. These might the boldest Sylph appall, When gleaming with meridian blaze; Thy beauty must enrapture all; But who can dare thine ardent gaze? 6. 'Tis said that Berenice's hair, In stars adorns the vault of heaven; But they would ne'er permit _thee_ there, _Thou_ wouldst so far outshine the seven. 7. For did those eyes as planets roll, Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: E'en suns, which systems now controul, Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. [1] Friday, November 7, 1806 [Footnote 1: "Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business, do intreat her eyes To twinkle in their spheres till they return." Shakespeare.] [Footnote i: 'To A----'. [4to] ] LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.[1] [As the author was discharging his Pistols in a Garden, Two Ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a Bullet hissing near them, to one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.] [2] 1. Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead, Wafting destruction o'er thy charms [i] And hurtling o'er [3] thy lovely head, Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms. 2. Surely some envious Demon's force, Vex'd to behold such beauty here, Impell'd the bullet's viewless course, Diverted from its first career. 3. Yes! in that nearly fatal hour, The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; But Heaven, with interposing power, In pity turn'd the death aside. 4. Yet, as perchance one trembling tear Upon that thrilling bosom fell; Which _I_, th' unconscious cause of fear, Extracted from its glistening cell;-- 5. Say, what dire penance can atone For such an outrage, done to thee? Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne, What punishment wilt thou decree? 6.