3 books to know Juvenalian Satire. Lord Byron

save the sea-bird's cry,

      And dolphin's leap, and little billow crost

      By some low rock or shelve, that made it fret

      Against the boundary it scarcely wet.

      And forth they wander'd, her sire being gone,

      As I have said, upon an expedition;

      And mother, brother, guardian, she had none,

      Save Zoe, who, although with due precision

      She waited on her lady with the sun,

      Thought daily service was her only mission,

      Bringing warm water, wreathing her long tresses,

      And asking now and then for cast-off dresses.

      It was the cooling hour, just when the rounded

      Red sun sinks down behind the azure hill,

      Which then seems as if the whole earth it bounded,

      Circling all nature, hush'd, and dim, and still,

      With the far mountain-crescent half surrounded

      On one side, and the deep sea calm and chill

      Upon the other, and the rosy sky,

      With one star sparkling through it like an eye.

      And thus they wander'd forth, and hand in hand,

      Over the shining pebbles and the shells,

      Glided along the smooth and harden'd sand,

      And in the worn and wild receptacles

      Work'd by the storms, yet work'd as it were plann'd,

      In hollow halls, with sparry roofs and cells,

      They turn'd to rest; and, each clasp'd by an arm,

      Yielded to the deep twilight's purple charm.

      They look'd up to the sky, whose floating glow

      Spread like a rosy ocean, vast and bright;

      They gazed upon the glittering sea below,

      Whence the broad moon rose circling into sight;

      They heard the wave's splash, and the wind so low,

      And saw each other's dark eyes darting light

      Into each other—and, beholding this,

      Their lips drew near, and clung into a kiss;

      A long, long kiss, a kiss of youth, and love,

      And beauty, all concentrating like rays

      Into one focus, kindled from above;

      Such kisses as belong to early days,

      Where heart, and soul, and sense, in concert move,

      And the blood 's lava, and the pulse a blaze,

      Each kiss a heart-quake,—for a kiss's strength,

      I think, it must be reckon'd by its length.

      By length I mean duration; theirs endured

      Heaven knows how long—no doubt they never reckon'd;

      And if they had, they could not have secured

      The sum of their sensations to a second:

      They had not spoken; but they felt allured,

      As if their souls and lips each other beckon'd,

      Which, being join'd, like swarming bees they clung—

      Their hearts the flowers from whence the honey sprung.

      They were alone, but not alone as they

      Who shut in chambers think it loneliness;

      The silent ocean, and the starlight bay,

      The twilight glow which momently grew less,

      The voiceless sands and dropping caves, that lay

      Around them, made them to each other press,

      As if there were no life beneath the sky

      Save theirs, and that their life could never die.

      They fear'd no eyes nor ears on that lone beach,

      They felt no terrors from the night, they were

      All in all to each other: though their speech

      Was broken words, they thought a language there,—

      And all the burning tongues the passions teach

      Found in one sigh the best interpreter

      Of nature's oracle—first love,—that all

      Which Eve has left her daughters since her fall.

      Haidde spoke not of scruples, ask'd no vows,

      Nor offer'd any; she had never heard

      Of plight and promises to be a spouse,

      Or perils by a loving maid incurr'd;

      She was all which pure ignorance allows,

      And flew to her young mate like a young bird;

      And, never having dreamt of falsehood, she

      Had not one word to say of constancy.

      She loved, and was beloved—she adored,

      And she was worshipp'd; after nature's fashion,

      Their intense souls, into each other pour'd,

      If souls could die, had perish'd in that passion,—

      But by degrees their senses were restored,

      Again to be o'ercome, again to dash on;

      And, beating 'gainst his bosom, Haidee's heart

      Felt as if never more to beat apart.

      Alas! they were so young, so beautiful,

      So lonely, loving, helpless, and the hour

      Was that in which the heart is always full,

      And, having o'er itself no further power,

      Prompts deeds eternity can not annul,

      But pays off moments in an endless shower

      Of hell-fire—all prepared for people giving

      Pleasure or pain to one another living.

      Alas! for Juan and Haidee! they were

      So loving and so lovely—till then never,

      Excepting our first parents, such a pair

      Had run the risk of being damn'd for ever;

      And Haidee, being devout as well as fair,

      Had, doubtless, heard about the Stygian river,

      And hell and purgatory—but forgot

      Just in the very crisis she should not.

      They look upon each other, and their eyes

      Gleam in the moonlight; and her white arm clasps

      Round Juan's head, and his around her lies

      Half buried in the tresses which it grasps;

      She sits upon his knee, and drinks his sighs,

      He hers, until they end in broken gasps;

      And thus they form a group that 's quite antique,

      Half naked, loving, natural,