tears, False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek, | The furrows of long thought, and dried sneer. What is the worst of woes that wait on age? What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow? To view each loved one blotted from life's page, And be alone on earth, as I am now. Before the Chastener humbly let me bow, O'er hearts divided and o'er hopes destroy'd: Roll on,vain days! full reckless may ye flow, Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd, And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloy'd. CANTO III. "Afin que cette application vous forçat de penser à autre chose; il n'y a en vérité de remède que celui-là et le temps." Lettre du Roi de Prusse à d'Alembert, Is thy face like thy mother's, my fair child! Ada! sole daughter of my house and heart? When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled, And then we parted,-not as now we part, But with a hope. Awaking with a start, The waters heave around me; and on high The winds lift up their voices: I depart, Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by, When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye. Once more upon the waters! yet once more! And the waves bound beneath me as a steed That knows his rider. Welcome, to their roar! Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead! Though the strain'd mast should quiver as a reed, And the rent canvas fluttering strew the gale, Still must I on; for I am as a weed, Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail Where-e'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail. In my youth's summer I did sing of One, The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind; Again I seize the theme then but begun, And bear it with me, as the rushing wind Bears the cloud onwards: in that Tale I find Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track beh O'er which all heavily the journeying y Plod the last sands of life, where no flower appear Since my young days of passion-joy,or p Perchance my heart and harp have lo string, And both may jar: it may be, that in v I would essay as I have sung to sing. Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cli So that it wean me from the weary dre Of selfish grief or gladness-so it fling Forgetfulness around me— -it shall seen To me, though to none else, a not ungra ful theme. He, who grown aged in this world of w 'Tis to create, and in creating live Invisible but gazing, as I glow Yet must I think less wildly:—I have thou tame, My springs of life were poison'd. 'Tis late! Yet am I changed; though still enough same In strength to bear what time can not ab And feed on bitter fruits without accus. Fate. Something too much of this:-but now past, And the spell closes with its silent seal Long absent HAROLD re-appears at last He of the breast which fain no more wo feel, Wrung with the wounds, which kill not "l ne'er heal; tends, Yet Time, who changes all, had alter'd him | Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, ex- He had the passion and the power to roam The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam; Were unto him companionship; they spake A mutual language, clearer than the tome Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake For Nature's pages glass'd by sunbeams on the lake. And caught its tone with Death's proph ear: near, Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too! again, His heart more truly knew that peal too He rush'd into the field, and, foremost fig Ah! then and there was hurrying to and tress, And cheeks all pale, which but an hour The life from out young hearts, and chok Which ne'er might be repeated; who co guess If ever more should meet those mutual ey Since upon nights so sweet such awful m could rise? And there was mounting in hot haste: steed, The mustering squadron, and the clatteri car, Went pouring forward with impetuous spe And wild and high the "Cameron's gath hills And all went merry as a marriage-bell; rising knell! Of living valour, rolling on the foe And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low. Last noon heheld them full of lusty life, The morn the marshalling in arms,—the day rent The earth is cover'd thick with other clay, Which her own clay shall cover, heap'd and pent, Rider and horse,-friend, foe,-in one red burial blent! Their praise is hymn'd by loftier harps than mine; Yet one I would select from that proud throng, Partly because they blend me with his line, And partly that I did his sire some wrong, And partly that bright names will hallow song; And his was of the bravest, and when shower'd The death-bolts deadliest the thinn'd files along, where the thickest of war's tempest lower'd, They reach'd no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard! There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee, And mine were nothing, had I such to give; By when I stood beneath the fresh green They mourn, but smile at length; and, Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou! She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name smiling, mourn: now Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than | But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell, That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame, If, like a tower upon a headlong rock, Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone, Such scorn of man had help'd to brave the shock; But men's thoughts were the steps which paved thy throne, And, but once kindled, quenchless everm Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire Of aught but rest; a fever at the core, Fatal to him who bears, to all who bore. This makes the madmen who have made m mad By their contagion; Conquerors and Kin Founders of sects and systems, to whom a Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unqu things Which stir too strongly the soul's sce springs, And are themselves the fools to those th fool; Envied, yet how unenviable! what stin Are theirs! One breast laid open were school Which would unteach mankind the lust shine or rule: Their breath is agitation, and their life A storm whereon they ride, to sink at la And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife. That should their days, surviving perils pa Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcas With sorrow and supineness, and so die Even as a flame unfed, which runs to was With its own flickering, or a sword laid Which eats into itself, and rusts inglorious He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall fi The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds a snow; He who surpasses or subdues mankind. Must look down on the hate of those belo Though high above the sun of glory glo And far beneath the earth and ocean spre Round him are icy rocks, and loudly bl Contending tempests on his naked head, And thus reward the toils which to the summits led. Away with these! true wisdom's world will Within its own creation, or in thine, Maternal Nature! for who teems like th Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhi There Harold gazes on a work divine, A blending of all beauties; streams dells, Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, corn-fi mountain, vine, And chiefless castles breathing stern fa wells greenly dwells. Their admiration thy best weapon shone; The part of Philip's son was thine, not then From gray but leafy walls, where R (Unless aside thy purple had been thrown) Like stern Diogenes to mock at men; For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide a den. And there they stand, as stands a lofty mi Worn, but unstooping to the baser cro |