Written by
George (Lord) Byron |
Maid of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,
Zo? mou sas agapo.
By those tresses unconfined,
Wooed by each Aegean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe,
Zo? mou sas agapo.
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love's alternate joy and woe,
Zo? mou sas agapo.
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Zo? mou sas agapo.
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Written by
Walter Savage Landor |
Against the groaning mast I stand,
The Atlantic surges swell,
To bear me from my native land
And Zo?'s wild farewell.
From billow upon billow hurl'd
I can yet hear her say,
`And is there nothing in the world
Worth one short hour's delay?'
`Alas, my Zo?! were it thus,
I should not sail alone,
Nor seas nor fates had parted us,
But are you all my own?'
Thus were it, never would burst forth
My sighs, Heaven knows how true!
But, though to me of little worth,
The world is much to you.
`Yes,' you shall say, when once the dream
(So hard to break!) is o'er,
`My love was very dear to him,
My fame and peace were more.'
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