The Works of Lord Byron Volume III Part 6

[First published, _Life_, 1830.]

TO THYRZA.[t][29]

Without a stone to mark the spot,[30]

And say, what Truth might well have said,[u]

By all, save one, perchance forgot, Ah! wherefore art thou lowly laid?

By many a sh.o.r.e and many a sea[v]

Divided, yet beloved in vain; The Past, the Future fled to thee, To bid us meet--no--ne'er again!

Could this have been--a word, a look, That softly said, "We part in peace,"

Had taught my bosom how to brook, With fainter sighs, thy soul's release.

And didst thou not, since Death for thee Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see, Who held, and holds thee in his heart?

Oh! who like him had watched thee here?

Or sadly marked thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere Death appear, When silent Sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more 'Twas thine to reck of human woe, Affection's heart-drops, gus.h.i.+ng o'er, Had flowed as fast--as now they flow.

Shall they not flow, when many a day[w]

In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere called but for a time away, Affection's mingling tears were ours?

Ours too the glance none saw beside; The smile none else might understand; The whispered thought of hearts allied,[x]

The pressure of the thrilling hand; The kiss, so guiltless and refined, That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind, Ev'n Pa.s.sion blushed to plead for more.[y]

The tone, that taught me to rejoice, When p.r.o.ne, unlike thee, to repine; The song, celestial from thy voice, But sweet to me from none but thine; The pledge we wore--_I_ wear it still, But where is thine?--Ah! where art thou?

Oft have I borne the weight of ill, But never bent beneath till now!

Well hast thou left in Life's best bloom[z]

The cup of Woe for me to drain.[aa]

If rest alone be in the tomb, I would not wish thee here again: But if in worlds more blest than this Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss, To wean me from mine anguish here.

Teach me--too early taught by thee!

To bear, forgiving and forgiven: On earth thy love was such to me; It fain would form my hope in Heaven![ab]

October 11, 1811.

[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to).]

AWAY, AWAY, YE NOTES OF WOE![ac][31]

1.

Away, away, ye notes of Woe!

Be silent, thou once soothing Strain, Or I must flee from hence--for, oh!

I dare not trust those sounds again.[ad]

To me they speak of brighter days-- But lull the chords, for now, alas![ae]

I must not think, I may not gaze,[af]

On what I _am_--on what I _was_.

2.

The voice that made those sounds more sweet[ag]

Is hushed, and all their charms are fled; And now their softest notes repeat A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead!

Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee, Beloved dust! since dust thou art; And all that once was Harmony Is worse than discord to my heart!

3.

'Tis silent all!--but on my ear[ah]

The well remembered Echoes thrill; I hear a voice I would not hear, A voice that now might well be still: Yet oft my doubting Soul 'twill shake; Ev'n Slumber owns its gentle tone, Till Consciousness will vainly wake To listen, though the dream be flown.

4.

Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep, Thou art but now a lovely dream; A Star that trembled o'er the deep, Then turned from earth its tender beam.

But he who through Life's dreary way Must pa.s.s, when Heaven is veiled in wrath, Will long lament the vanished ray That scattered gladness o'er his path.

_December_ 8, 1811.

[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to).]

ONE STRUGGLE MORE, AND I AM FREE.[ai]

1.

One struggle more, and I am free From pangs that rend my heart in twain;[aj]

One last long sigh to Love and thee, Then back to busy life again.

It suits me well to mingle now With things that never pleased before:[ak]

Though every joy is fled below, What future grief can touch me more?[al]

2.

Then bring me wine, the banquet bring; Man was not formed to live alone: I'll be that light unmeaning thing That smiles with all, and weeps with none.

It was not thus in days more dear, It never would have been, but thou[am]

Hast fled, and left me lonely here; Thou'rt nothing,--all are nothing now.

3.

In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!

The smile that Sorrow fain would wear But mocks the woe that lurks beneath, Like roses o'er a sepulchre.

Though gay companions o'er the bowl Dispel awhile the sense of ill; Though Pleasure fires the maddening soul, The Heart,--the Heart is lonely still!

4.

On many a lone and lovely night It soothed to gaze upon the sky; For then I deemed the heavenly light Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye: And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon, When sailing o'er the aegean wave, "Now Thyrza gazes on that moon"-- Alas, it gleamed upon her grave!

5.

When stretched on Fever's sleepless bed, And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins, "'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,[an]

"That Thyrza cannot know my pains:"

Like freedom to the time-worn slave--[ao]

A boon 'tis idle then to give-- Relenting Nature vainly gave[32]

My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!

6.