The Works of Lord Byron, Vol. 1 (The Cornelian) Lord Byron

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The Cornelian [1]

1. No specious splendour of this stone
Endears it to my memory ever;
With lustre only once it shone,
And blushes modest as the giver. [i]

2. Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties,
Have, for my weakness, oft reprov'd me;
Yet still the simple gift I prize,
For I am sure, the giver lov'd me.

3. He offer'd it with downcast look,
As fearful that I might refuse it;
I told him, when the gift I took,
My only fear should be, to lose it.

4. This pledge attentively I view'd,
And sparkling as I held it near,
Methought one drop the stone bedew'd,
And, ever since, I've lov'd a tear.

5. Still, to adorn his humble youth,
Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield;
But he, who seeks the flowers of truth,
Must quit the garden, for the field.