The Works of Lord Byron Volume III Part 12

7.

Far may thy days, as heretofore,[cc]

From this our gaudy world be past!

And that too bitter moment o'er, Oh! may such trial be thy last.

8.

This heart, alas! perverted long, Itself destroyed might there destroy; To meet thee in the glittering throng, Would wake Presumption's hope of joy.[cd]

9.

Then to the things whose bliss or woe, Like mine, is wild and worthless all, That world resign--such scenes forego, Where those who feel must surely fall.

10.

Thy youth, thy charms, thy tenderness-- Thy soul from long seclusion pure; From what even here hath pa.s.sed, may guess What there thy bosom must endure.

11.

Oh! pardon that imploring tear, Since not by Virtue shed in vain, My frenzy drew from eyes so dear; For me they shall not weep again.

12.

Though long and mournful must it be, The thought that we no more may meet; Yet I deserve the stern decree, And almost deem the sentence sweet.

13.

Still--had I loved thee less--my heart Had then less sacrificed to thine; It felt not half so much to part As if its guilt had made thee mine.

1813.

[MS. M. First published, _Childe Harold_, 1814 (Seventh Edition).]

IMPROMPTU, IN REPLY TO A FRIEND.[52]

When, from the heart where Sorrow sits, Her dusky shadow mounts too high, And o'er the changing aspect flits, And clouds the brow, or fills the eye; Heed not that gloom, which soon shall sink: My Thoughts their dungeon know too well; Back to my breast the Wanderers shrink, And _droop_ within their silent cell.[ce]

_September_, 1813.

[MS. M. first published, _Childe Harold_, 1814 (Seventh Edition).]

SONNET.

TO GENEVRA.

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair, And the warm l.u.s.tre of thy features--caught From contemplation--where serenely wrought, Seems Sorrow's softness charmed from its despair-- Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air, That--but I know thy blessed bosom fraught With mines of unalloyed and stainless thought-- I should have deemed thee doomed to earthly care.

With such an aspect, by his colours blent, When from his beauty-breathing pencil born, (Except that _thou_ hast nothing to repent) The Magdalen of Guido saw the morn-- Such seem'st thou--but how much more excellent!

With nought Remorse can claim--nor Virtue scorn.

_December_ 17, 1813.[53]

[MS. M. First published, _Corsair_, 1814 (Second Edition).]

SONNET.

TO GENEVRA.

Thy cheek is pale with thought, but not from woe,[cf]

And yet so lovely, that if Mirth could flush Its rose of whiteness with the brightest blush, My heart would wish away that ruder glow: And dazzle not thy deep-blue eyes--but, oh!

While gazing on them sterner eyes will gush, And into mine my mother's weakness rush, Soft as the last drops round Heaven's airy bow.

For, through thy long dark lashes low depending, The soul of melancholy Gentleness Gleams like a Seraph from the sky descending, Above all pain, yet pitying all distress; At once such majesty with sweetness blending, I worship more, but cannot love thee less.

_December_ 17, 1813.

[MS. M. First published, _Corsair_, 1814 (Second Edition).]

FROM THE PORTUGUESE.

"TU MI CHAMAS"

1.

In moments to delight devoted,[54]

"My Life!" with tenderest tone, you cry; Dear words! on which my heart had doted, If Youth could neither fade nor die.

2.

To Death even hours like these must roll, Ah! then repeat those accents never; Or change "my Life!" into "my Soul!"

Which, like my Love, exists for ever.

[MS. M.]

ANOTHER VERSION.

You call me still your _Life_.--Oh! change the word-- Life is as transient as the inconstant sigh: Say rather I'm your Soul; more just that name, For, like the soul, my Love can never die.

[Stanzas 1, 2 first published, _Childe Harold_, 1814 (Seventh Edition). "Another Version," first published, 1832.]

FOOTNOTES:

[1] [These stanzas were inserted in the first draft of the First Canto of _Childe Harold_, after the eighty-sixth stanza. "The struggle 'gainst the Demon's sway" (see stanza lx.x.xiv.) had, apparently, resulted in victory, for the "unpremeditated lay" poured forth at the time betrays the youth and high spirits of the singer. But the inconsistency was detected in time, and the lines, _To Inez_, dated January 25, 1810, with their "touches of dreariest sadness," were subst.i.tuted for the simple and cheerful strains of _The Girl of Cadiz_ (see _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 75, note 1; _Life_, p. 151).]