Poem by George Gordon Byron

Hebrew Melodies 18. Francisca

FRANCISCA walks in the shadow of night,
But it is not to gaze on the heavenly light --
But if she sits in her garden bower,
'Tis not for the sake of its blowing flower.
She listens -- but not for the nightingale --
Though her ear expects as soft a tale.
There winds a step through the foliage thick,
And her cheek grows pale, and her heart beats quick.
There whispers a voice thro' the rustling leaves;
A moment more and they shall meet --
'Tis past -- her lover's at her feet. 

1. Churchill’s Grave
2. Epitaph
3. On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School
4. Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
5. To the Earl of Clare

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