Oh FAME!-if I e'er took delight in thy praises, There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; Her glance was the best of the rays that surround thee; When it sparkled o'er aught that was bright in my story, I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory. November, 1821. STANZAS. Could Love for ever Run like a river, And Time's endeavour Be tried in vain No other pleasure With this could measure; And like a treasure We'd hug the chain. Ends not in dying, And, form'd for flying, Love plumes his wing; Then for this reason Let's love a season; But let that season be only Spring. When lovers parted Expect to die; A few years older, Ah! how much colder They might behold her For whom they sigh When link'd together, They pluck Love's feather He'll stay for ever, But sadly shiver Without his plumage, when past the Spring. (1819.) 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; Be on this sheet, 'tis not what it appears; I loved, I love you; for this love have lost So dear is 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 Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart, And few there are whom these cannot estrange; Men have all these resources, we but one, To love again, and be again undone. You will proceed in pleasure, and in pride, My shame and sorrow deep in my heart's core: The passion which still rages as before,- My breast has been all weakness, is so yet; To all, except one image, madly blind, I have no more to say, but linger still, My misery can scarce be more complete: Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would neet, And I must even survive this last adieu, And bear with life, to love and pray for you! FIRST LOVE. [From the same.] 'Tis sweet to hear At midnight on the blue and moonlit deep The song and oar of Adria's gondolier, By distance mellow'd, o'er the waters sweep; Tis sweet to see the evening star appear; 'Tis sweet to listen as the night-winds creep From leaf to leaf; 'tis sweet to view on high The rainbow, based on ocean, span the sky. 'Tis sweet to hear the watch-dog's honest bark Bay deep-mouth'd welcome as we draw near home; 'Tis sweet to know there is an eye will mark Our coming, and look brighter when we come ; 'Tis sweet to be awaken'd by the lark, Or lull'd by falling waters; sweet the hum Sweet is the vintage, when the showering grapes Sweet to the miser are his glittering heaps, Sweet is a legacy, and passing sweet The unexpected death of some old lady Or gentleman of seventy years complete, Who've made us youth' wait too-too long already For an estate, or cash, or country seat, Still breaking, but with stamina so steady Tis sweet to win, no matter how, one's laurels, Sweet is old wine in bottles, ale in barrels ; But sweeter still than this, than these, than all, Like Adam's recollection of his fall; The tree of knowledge has been pluck'd-all's known And life yields nothing further to recall Fire which Prometheus filch'd for us from heaven. THE ISLES of Greece. [From Don Juan. Canto III.] The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece! But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse, The hero's harp, the lover's lute, The mountains look on Marathon- I dreamed that Greece might still be free; I could not deem myself a slave. A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis; And men in nations ;-all were his ! The heroic bosom beats no more! |