The Sun.
London, England, 1818-07-01 00:00:00

1' OV, T Y.

TO OCTAVIA, •
. .
The Eighli: Daughter of J. Esq. on the comiiletio!
of her sixth year.

BY LORD BYRON.

Full many it Loomy month bath past,
Ou Bagging wing, regardless by—
Unniath'd by aught, save grief—since last
I razed upon thy bright blue eve,
And bade my lyre pour forth for thee
Its strains of wildest minstrelsy !
Fur all toy joys are withered now,-
- The hopes I most relied on, I hwarted,—
And s'nrrow hath o'er:spread my brow
With many a shade, since last we parted :
Yet, 'told that murkiness of lot,
Young Pi at, thou art unfotgot !

•.„
There are who love to trace the ,
That dimples upon childhood's cheek,
And hear from 'ins &void of guile
The dictales of the Ip,sour's break ;
A,b! who of such could look on thee
Without a wish to rival me!
None: his must be a stubborn heart,
And strange to every softer feeling.
Who from thy glance could hear to part
Cold and unmoved—without revealing'
Some portion of the fool regret
Which dimut'd my eye when last we met.

Sweet bird of Bean! y!—'mid the
'file anguished thrill of hope delayed—
Peril—and pain—and every ill
That can the breast of man invade—
No tender thought of Aber and thee
Hath faded from my meinory!
Ilut I have dwelt on each dear form
Till woe awhile gave place to gladness:,
41nd that remembrance seent'd to charm,
Almost to peace, any bosom's sadness:—
And now again I breathe a lay
To hail thee on thy natal day.

0'..! might the fondest prayers prevail
For blessings on thy future years—
Or innocence like thine avail
To save thee from affliction's tears,
Each moment of thy life should bring
Some new delight upon its wing!
And the wild sparkle of thine eye,
Thy guilelessness of soul revealing—
Beam ever thus as beauteously,
Undimm'd—save by those gems of feeling—
'l' hose soft, luxurious drops which flow
In pity for another's woe.

But vain the thought !—it may not he
Could prayers avert misfortune's blight,
Or hearts, from sinful passions free,
Here hope for unalloyed delight,
Then those who guard thine opening bloom
Had never known an hour of gloom.
No ;—if the chastening stroke of Fate
On guilty heads alone descended,
Sure thty would ne'er have felt its weight
In whose pure bosoms, sweetly blended,
Life's (teams" social virtuel move,
fin one bright, tinkles:, chain of lore!

Then, since upon this earth Joy'g beams
Are fading—frail, and few in number,
And melt--like the light-woven dreams
`That steal upon the mourner's slumber—
Sweet one ! I'll wish thee strength to hear
The ills that Heaven may hid titre share;
And when thine infancy hail' fled,
And Time with woman's zone hath hound thee,
If in the path thou'rt dootted to tread
The thorns of sorrow lurk, and wound thee,
Be thine that expisite relief
Which blossoms mid the springs of grief!

And like the many-tinted bow
Which smiles the showery clouds away,
May Hope.—Grief's Iris here below—
Attend and soothe thee on thy way,
Till full of years—thy cares at rest—
Thou seek'st the mansions of the blest".
Young Sister of a mortal Nine
Farewell !—perchance a fang fare Well!
Tho' woes unnumbered yet be mine—
Woes, Hope may vainly strive to quell—
I'll half unteach my soul to pine,
So there be bliss. for thee and thine!
41,* We are mach obliged to the Correspondent who fa-
voured us with the foregoing Lines, which he justly denomi-
nates "requisite," and we conceive that they may rank with
the very best effusions of that noble Author.