Byron's Poetical Works, Volume 1

1.

  Start not—­nor deem my spirit fled: 
    In me behold the only skull,
  From which, unlike a living head,
    Whatever flows is never dull.

2.

  I lived, I loved, I quaff’d, like thee: 
    I died:  let earth my bones resign;
  Fill up—­thou canst not injure me;
    The worm hath fouler lips than thine.

3.

  Better to hold the sparkling grape,
    Than nurse the earth-worm’s slimy brood;
  And circle in the goblet’s shape
    The drink of Gods, than reptile’s food.

4.

  Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
    In aid of others’ let me shine;
  And when, alas! our brains are gone,
    What nobler substitute than wine?

5.

  Quaff while thou canst:  another race,
    When thou and thine, like me, are sped,
  May rescue thee from earth’s embrace,
    And rhyme and revel with the dead.

6.

  Why not? since through life’s little day
    Our heads such sad effects produce;
  Redeem’d from worms and wasting clay,
    This chance is theirs, to be of use.

Newstead Abbey, 1808.

[First published in the seventh edition of ’Childe Harold’.]

[Footnote 1:  Byron gave Medwin the following account of this cup:—­“The gardener in digging [discovered] a skull that had probably belonged to some jolly friar or monk of the abbey, about the time it was dis-monasteried.  Observing it to be of giant size, and in a perfect state of preservation, a strange fancy seized me of having it set and mounted as a drinking cup.  I accordingly sent it to town, and it returned with a very high polish, and of a mottled colour like tortoiseshell.”—­Medwin’s ‘Conversations’, 1824, p. 87.]

WELL!  THOU ART HAPPY. i

1.

  Well! thou art happy, and I feel
    That I should thus be happy too;
  For still my heart regards thy weal
    Warmly, as it was wont to do.

2.

  Thy husband’s blest—­and ’twill impart
    Some pangs to view his happier lot:  [ii]
  But let them pass—­Oh! how my heart
    Would hate him if he loved thee not!

3.

  When late I saw thy favourite child,
    I thought my jealous heart would break;
  But when the unconscious infant smil’d,
    I kiss’d it for its mother’s sake.

4.

  I kiss’d it,—­and repress’d my sighs
    Its father in its face to see;
  But then it had its mother’s eyes,
    And they were all to love and me.

5. [iii]

  Mary, adieu!  I must away: 
    While thou art blest I’ll not repine;
  But near thee I can never stay;
    My heart would soon again be thine.

6.

  I deem’d that Time, I deem’d that Pride,
    Had quench’d at length my boyish flame;
  Nor knew, till seated by thy side,
    My heart in all,—­save hope,—­the same.

7.

  Yet was I calm:  I knew the time
    My breast would thrill before thy look;
  But now to tremble were a crime—­
    We met,—­and not a nerve was shook.

8.

  I saw thee gaze upon my face,
    Yet meet with no confusion there: 
  One only feeling couldst thou trace;
    The sullen calmness of despair.

9.

  Away! away! my early dream
    Remembrance never must awake: 
  Oh! where is Lethe’s fabled stream? 
    My foolish heart be still, or break.

November, 1808. [First published, 1809.]

[Footnote 1:  These lines were written after dining at Annesley with Mr. and Mrs. Chaworth Musters.  Their daughter, born 1806, and now Mrs. Hamond, of Westacre, Norfolk, is still (January, 1898) living.]

[Footnote i: 

To Mrs.——­[erased].

[MS. L.]

<i>To-----</i>.

[Imit. and Transl.  Hobhouse, 1809.] ]

[Footnote ii: 

  Some pang to see my rival’s lot.

[MS. L.] ]

[Footnote iii:  MS. L. inserts—­

Poor little pledge of mutual love, I would not hurt a hair of thee, Although thy birth should chance to prove Thy parents’ bliss—­my misery.]