I enter thy garden of roses, <br />Beloved and fair Haidée, <br />Each morning where Flora reposes, <br />For surely I see her in thee. <br />Oh, Lovely! thus low I implore thee, <br />Receive this fond truth from my tongue, <br />Which utters its song to adore thee, <br />Yet trembles for what it has sung; <br />As the branch, at the bidding of Nature, <br />Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree, <br />Through her eyes, through her every feature, <br />Shines the soul of the young Haidée. <br /> <br />But the loveliest garden grows hateful <br />When Love has abandon'd the bowers; <br />Bring me hemlock - since mine is ungrateful, <br />That herb is more fragrant than flowers. <br />The poison, when pour 'd from the chalice, <br />Will deeply embitter the bowl; <br />But when drunk to escape from thy malice, <br />The draught shall be sweet to my soul. <br />Too cruel! in vain I implore thee <br />My heart from these horrors to save: <br />Will nought to my bosom restore thee? <br />Then open the gates of the grave. <br /> <br />As the chief who to combat advances <br />Secure of his conquest before, <br />Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances, <br />Halt pierced through my heart to its core. <br />Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish <br />By pangs which a smile would dispel? <br />Would the hope, which thou once bad'st me cherish, <br />For torture repay me too well? <br />Now sad is the garden of roses, <br />Beloved but false Haidée! <br />There Flora all wither'd reposes, <br />And mourns o'er thing absence with me.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/translation-of-the-romaic-song/
