ON BEING ASKED MY REASON FOR QUITTING
ENGLAND IN THE SPRING. [i]
1.
When Man, expell’d from Eden’s
bowers,
A moment linger’d near
the gate,
Each scene recall’d the vanish’d
hours,
And bade him curse his future
fate.
2.
But, wandering on through distant climes,
He learnt to bear his load
of grief;
Just gave a sigh to other times,
And found in busier scenes
relief.
3.
Thus, Lady! will it be with me, [ii]
And I must view thy charms
no more;
For, while I linger near to thee,
I sigh for all I knew before.
4.
In flight I shall be surely wise,
Escaping from temptation’s
snare:
I cannot view my Paradise
Without the wish of dwelling
there. iii
December 2, 1808. [First published, 1809.]
[Footnote 1: Byron had written
to his mother on November 2, 1808, announcing his
intention of sailing for India in the following March.
See ‘Childe Harold’, canto i. st. 3.
See also Letter to Hodgson, Nov. 27, 1808.]
[Footnote 2: In an unpublished
letter of Byron to——, dated within
a few days of his final departure from Italy to Greece,
in 1823, he writes:
“Miss Chaworth was two years older
than myself. She married a man of an ancient
and respectable family, but her marriage was not a
happier one than my own. Her conduct, however,
was irreproachable; but there was not sympathy between
their characters. I had not seen her for many
years when an occasion offered to me, January, 1814.
I was upon the point, with her consent, of paying
her a visit, when my sister, who has always had
more influence over me than any one else, persuaded
me not to do it. ‘For,’ said she,
’if you go you will fall in love again, and
then there will be a scene; one step will lead to another,
’et cela fera un éclat’’.”]
[Footnote i:
‘The Farewell To a Lady.’
[’Imit. and Transl.’]
[Footnote ii:
‘Thus Mary!’ (Mrs. Musters).
[’MS’.]
[Footnote iii:
‘Without a wish to enter there.’
[’Imit. and Transl’., p. 196.] ]
FILL THE GOBLET AGAIN. [i]
A SONG.
1.
Fill the goblet again! for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart
to its core;
Let us drink!—who would not?—since,
through life’s varied round,
In the goblet alone no deception is found.
2.
I have tried in its turn all that life
can supply;
I have bask’d in the beam of a dark
rolling eye;
I have lov’d!—who has
not?—but what heart can declare
That Pleasure existed while Passion was
there?
3.
In the days of my youth, when the heart’s
in its spring,
And dreams that Affection can never take
wing,
I had friends!—who has not?—but
what tongue will avow,
That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful
as thou?
4.
The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange,
Friendship shifts with the sunbeam—thou
never canst change;
Thou grow’st old—who
does not?—but on earth what appears,
Whose virtues, like thine, still increase
with its years?
5.
Yet if blest to the utmost that Love can
bestow,
Should a rival bow down to our idol below,
We are jealous!—who’s
not?—thou hast no such alloy;
For the more that enjoy thee, the more
we enjoy.
6.
Then the season of youth and its vanities
past,
For refuge we fly to the goblet at last;
There we find—do we not?—in
the flow of the soul,
That truth, as of yore, is confined to
the bowl.
7.
When the box of Pandora was open’d
on earth,
And Misery’s triumph commenc’d
over Mirth,
Hope was left,—was she not?—but
the goblet we kiss,
And care not for Hope, who are certain
of bliss.
8.
Long life to the grape! for when summer
is flown,
The age of our nectar shall gladden our
own:
We must die—who shall not?—May
our sins be forgiven,
And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven.
[First published, 1809.]
[Footnote i:
‘Song’.
[’Imit. and Transl’., p. 204.]
STANZAS TO A LADY, ON LEAVING ENGLAND. [i]
1.
Tis done—and shivering in the
gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling o’er the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh’ning
blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.
2.
But could I be what I have been,
And could I see what I have seen—
Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest—
I should not seek another zone,
Because I cannot love but one.
3.
’Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave me bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again:
For though I fly from Albion,
I still can only love but one.
4.
As some lone bird, without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face,
And ev’n in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.
5.
And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne’er shall find a resting-place;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
But ever love, and love but one.
6.
The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
Where Friendship’s or Love’s
softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or leman I have none, [ii]
Because I cannot love but one.
7.
I go—but wheresoe’er
I flee
There’s not an eye will weep for
me;
There’s not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.
8.
To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we’ve been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe—
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.
9.
And who that dear lov’d one may
be,
Is not for vulgar eyes to see;
And why that early love was cross’d,
Thou know’st the best, I feel the
most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one.
10.
I’ve tried another’s fetters
too,
With charms perchance as fair to view;
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.
11.
’Twould soothe to take one lingering
view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o’er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one.
1809. [First published, 1809.]
[Footnote i:
‘To Mrs. Musters.’
[’MS.’]
‘To——on Leaving
England.’
[’Imit. and Transl.’, p. 227.]
[Footnote ii:
‘But friend or lover I have none’.
[’Imit. and Transl’., p. 229.]]
[Footnote iii:
’Though wheresoever my bark may
run,
I love but thee, I love but one.’
[’Imit. and Transl.’, p. 230.]
’The land recedes his Bark is gone,
Yet still he loves and laves but one.’
[MS.]
[Footnote iv:
‘Yet far away he loves but one.’
[MS.]
