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LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED FROM A SKULL. [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 G.o.ds, 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 n.o.bler subst.i.tute 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 tortoisesh.e.l.l."--Medwin's 'Conversations', 1824, p. 87.]
WELL! THOU ART HAPPY. [i] [1]
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 pa.s.s--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.
