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And the deaf tyranny of Fate,
Thy Godlike crime was to be kind,
To render with thy precepts less
The sum of human wretchedness,
Of thine impenetrable Spirit,
A mighty lesson we inherit : Thou art a symbol and a sign
To Mortals of their fate and force ;
A troubled stream from a pure sou ce;
And a firm will, and a deep sense, Which even in torture can descry
Its own concenter'd recompense, Triumphant where it dares defy, And making Death a Victory.
DIODATI, July 1816.
SONNET ON CHILLON.
Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind!
Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art,
For there thy habitation is the heart –
To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom,
Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon ! thy prison is a holy place,
And thy sad floor an altar-for 'twas trod, Until his very steps have left a trace
Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! May none those marks efface !
For they appeal from tyranny to God.
STANZAS FOR MUSIC.
They say that Hope is happiness ;
Put genuine Love must prize the past,
They rose the first—they set the last;
And all that Memory loves the most
Was once our only Hope to be, And all that Hope adored and lost
Hath melted into Memory.
Alas! it is delusion all :
The future cheats us from afar,
Nor dare we think on what we are.
So, WE'LL GO NO MORE A ROVING.
So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD BETWEEN FLORENCE
Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story ;
Oh FAME!-if I e'er took delight in thy praises,
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee ;
Could Love for ever
Be tried in vain-
We'd hug the chain.
Love plumes his wing ;
Let's love a season ;
When lovers parted
Expect to die ;
For whom they sigh !
When link'd together,
From out his wing-
But sadly shiver
DONNA JULIA'S LETTER.
[From Don Juan. Canto I.]
They tell me 'tis decided you depart :
'Tis wise—'tis well, but not the less a pain ; I have no further claim on your young heart,
Mine is the victim, and would be again :
I used ;-I write in haste, and if a stain
I loved, I love you ; for this love have lost
State, station, heaven, mankind's, my own esteem, And yet cannot regret what it hath cost,
So dear still the memory of that dream ;
None can deem harshlier of me than I deem :
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,
'Tis woman's whole existence ; man may range The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the mart;
Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange
And few there are whom these cannot estrange ;