Free Selected Poems by Byron Page B

softly said, ‘We part in peace,’
Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul’s release.
And didst thou not, since Death for thee
Prepared a light and pangless dart,
15
Once long for him thou ne’er shalt see,
Who held, and holds thee in his heart?
Oh! who like him had watch’d thee here?
Or sadly mark’d thy glazing eye,
In that dread hour ere death appear,
20
When silent sorrow fears to sigh,
Till all was past? But when no more
‘Twas thine to reck of human woe,
Affection’s heart-drops, gushing o’er,
Had flow’d as fast – as now they flow.
25
Shall they not flow, when many a day
In these, to me, deserted towers,
Ere call’d but for a time away,
Affection’s mingling tears were ours?
Ours too the glance none saw beside;
30
The smile none else might understand;
The whisper’d thought of hearts allied,
The pressure of the thrilling hand;
The kiss, so guiltless and refined
That Love each warmer wish forebore;
35
Those eyes proclaim’d so pure a mind,
Even passion blush’d to plead for more.
The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine;
The song, celestial from thy voice,
40
But sweet to me from none but thine;
The pledge we wore – I wear it still,
But where is thine? – Ah! where art thou?
Oft have I borne the weight of ill,
But never bent beneath till now!
45
Well hast thou left in life’s best bloom
The cup of woe for me to drain.
If rest alone be in the tomb,
I would not wish thee here again;
But if in worlds more blest than this
50
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere,
Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from mine anguish here.
Teach me – too early taught by thee!
To bear, forgiving and forgiven:
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On earth thy love was such to me;
It fain would form my hope in heaven!
October 11, 1811.

CHILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE
    A Romaunt, Cantos I–II
    L’univers est une espèce de livre, dont on n’a lu que la première page quand on n’a vu que son pays. J’en ai feuilleté un assez grand nombre, que j’ai trouvé également mauvaises. Cet examen ne m’a point été infructueux. Je haïssais ma patrie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi lesquels j’ai vécu, m’ont reconcilié avec elle. Quand je n’aurais tiré d’autre bénéfice de mes voyages que celui-là, je n’en regretterais ni les frais ni les fatigues.
    LE COSMOPOLITE

PREFACE TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS
    The following poem was written, for the most part, amidst the scenes which it attempts to describe. It was begun in Albania; and the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were composed from the author’s observations in those countries. Thus much it may be necessary to state for the correctness of the descriptions. The scenes attempted to be sketched are in Spain, Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, and Greece. There, for the present, the poem stops: its reception will determine whether the author may venture to conduct his readers to the capital of the East, through Ionia and Phrygia: these two cantos are merely experimental.
    A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some connection to the piece; which, however, makes no pretension to regularity. It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose opinions I set a high value, that in this fictitious character, ‘Childe Harold,’ I may incur the suspicion of having intended some real personage: this I beg leave, once for all, to disclaim – Harold is the child of imagination, for the purpose I have stated. In some very trivial particulars, and those merely local, there might be groundsfor such a notion; but in the main points, I should hope, none whatever.
    It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation ‘Childe,’ as ‘Childe Waters,’ ‘Childe Childers,’ &c. is used as more consonant with the old structure of versification which I have adopted. The ‘Good Night,’ in the beginning of the first canto, was suggested by ‘Lord Maxwell’s Good Night,’ in the Border Minstrelsy,