Still, still despise the censor stern, Though now on airy visions borne, I'll think upon your shade no more. Thus, when the whirlwind's rage is past, And caves their sullen roar enclose, We heed no more the wintry blast, When lull'd by zephyr to repose. Full often has my infant Muse And Mary's given to another; And every lady's eye's a sun, These last should be confined to one. As many a boy and girl remembers, Extinguish'd with the dying embers. But now, dear LONG, 't is midnight's noon, Has thrice perform'd her stated round, Which once contain'd our youth's retreat; 1 We'll mingle in the festive crew; [The two friends were both passionately attached to Harrow; and sometimes made excursions thither together, to revive their schoolboy recollections.] While many a tale of former day 2 TO A LADY.1 OH! had my fate been join'd with thine, To thee these early faults I owe, To thee, the wise and old reproving: They know my sins, but do not know 'Twas thine to break the bonds of loving. For once my soul, like thine, was pure, Perhaps his peace I could destroy, And spoil the blisses that await him; Yet let my rival smile in joy, For thy dear sake I cannot hate him. [Mrs. Musters. See antè, p. 42.] Our union would have healed feuds in which blood had been shed by our fathers it would have joined lands broad and richit would have joined at least one heart, and two persons not illmatched in years (she is two years my elder), and-and-andwhat has been the result?" Byron Diary, 1821.] Ah! since thy angel form is gone, Then fare thee well, deceitful maid! Yet all this giddy waste of years, This tiresome round of palling pleasures; These varied loves, these matron's fears, These thoughtless strains to passion's measures If thou wert mine, had all been hush'd: - Yes, once the rural scene was sweet, For Nature seem'd to smile before thee; 1 But now I seek for other joys: To think would drive my soul to madness; In thoughtless throngs and empty noise, I conquer half my bosom's sadness. 1["Our meetings," says Lord Byron in 1822, "were stolen ones, and a gate leading from Mr. Chaworth's grounds to those of my mother was the place of our interviews. But the ardour was all on my side. I was serious; she was volatile: she liked me as a younger brother, and treated and laughed at me as a boy; she, however, gave me her picture, and that was something to make verses upon. Had I married her, perhaps the whole tenour of my life would have been different."] Yet, even in these a thought will steal To know that thou art lost for ever. I WOULD I WERE A CARELESS CHILD. I WOULD I were a careless child, 1 Accords not with the freeborn soul, Which loves the mountain's craggy side, And seeks the rocks where billows roll. Fortune! take back these cultured lands, I hate the slaves that cringe around. Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar; I ask but this again to rove Through scenes my youth hath known before. Few are my years, and yet I feel The world was ne'er design'd for me: Ah! why do dark'ning shades conceal The hour when man must cease to be? 1 Sassenach, or Saxon, a Gaelic word, signifying either Lowland or English. |