MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART.

Maid of Athens, ere we part, Give, O give me back my heart! Or, since that has left my breast, Keep it now, and take the rest! Hear my vow before I go, Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ. By those tresses unconfined, Wooed by each Ægean wind; By those lids whose jetty fringe Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; By those wild eyes like the roe, Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ. 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, Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ. 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! Ζώη μοϋ σάς αγαπώ. Lord Byron.