What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,

Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!
Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;

Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;
Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,
Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;
Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight.
If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh

The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,
Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,
A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art.
No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,
But living statues there are seen to weep;
Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb,
Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.
What though thy sire lament his failing line,
A father's sorrows cannot equal mine!

Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,
Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:

Friend." The motto was prefixed in Hours of Idleness. The epigram which Bergk leaves under Plato's name was translated by Shelley (Poems, 1895, iii. 361)

"Thou wert the morning star

Among the living,

Ere thy fair light had fled;
Now having died, thou art as
Hesperus, giving

New splendour to the dead."

There is an echo of the Greek distich in Byron's exquisite line, "The Morning-Star of Memory."]

But, who with me shall hold thy former place?
Thine image, what new friendship can efface?
Ah, none !—a father's tears will cease to flow,
Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;
To all, save one, is consolation known,
While solitary Friendship sighs alone.

HARROW, 1803.1

ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL

WHEN DYING.

ANIMULA! vagula, Blandula,

Hospes, comesque corporis,

Quæ nunc abibis in Loca

Pallidula, rigida, nudula,

Nec, ut soles, dabis Jocos?

TRANSLATION.

AH! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring Sprite,
Friend and associate of this clay!

To what unknown region borne,
Wilt thou, now, wing thy distant flight?
No more with wonted humour gay,

But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.

1806.

1. [The words, "Southwell, March 17," are added, in a lady's hand, on p. 9 of the annotated copy of P. on V. Occasions in the British Museum. The conjecture that the "beloved friend," who is of humble origin, is identical with "E" of the verses on p. 4, remains uncertain.]

A FRAGMENT.1

WHEN, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;
Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns,
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone;1
My epitaph shall be my name alone: 2
If that with honour fail to crown my clay,
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!
That, only that, shall single out the spot;
By that remember'd, or with that forgot..

TO CAROLINE.3

I.

1803.

OH! when shall the grave hide for ever my sorrow?

Oh! when shall my soul wing her flight from this clay?

i. No lengthen'd scroll of virtue and renown.-[4to. P. on V. Occ.] ii. If that with honour fails.-[4to]

iii. But that remember'd, or fore'er forgot.-[4to. P. on V. Occasions.] 1. [There is no heading in the Quarto.]

2. In his will, drawn up in 1811, Byron gave directions that "no inscription, save his name and age, should be written on his tomb." June, 1819, he wrote to Murray: "Some of the epitaphs at the Certosa cemetery, at Ferrara, pleased me more than the more splendid monuments at Bologna; for instance, 'Martini Luigi Implora pace.' Can anything be more full of pathos? I hope whoever may survive me will see those two words, and no more, put over me."-Life, pp. 131, 398.]

3. [To[4to]]

The present is hell! and the coming to-morrow

But brings, with new torture, the curse of to-day.

2.

From my eye flows no tear, from my lips flow no curses,1 I blast not the fiends who have hurl'd me from bliss; For poor is the soul which, bewailing, rehearses

Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this

3.

Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning,

Would my lips breathe a flame which no stream could

assuage,

On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its lightning,

With transport my tongue give a loose to its rage.

4.

But now tears and curses, alike unavailing,

Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight; Could they view us our sad separation bewailing, Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight.

5.

Yet, still, though we bend with a feign'd resignation, Life beams not for us with one ray that can cheer; Love and Hope upon earth bring no more consolation, In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear.

i.

· fall no curses.-[4to. P. on V. Occasions.]

6.

Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place me, Since, in life, love and friendship for ever are fled? If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee, Perhaps they will leave unmolested--the dead.

1805.

TO CAROLINE.1

I.

WHEN I hear you express an affection so warm,
Ne'er think, my belov'd, that I do not believe;

For your lip would the soul of suspicion disarm,
And your eye beams a ray which can never deceive.

2.

Yet still, this fond bosom regrets, while adoring,

That love, like the leaf, must fall into the sear, That Age will come on, when Remembrance, deploring, Contemplates the scenes of her youth, with a tear;

3.

That the time must arrive, when, no longer retaining Their auburn, those locks must wave thin to the breeze When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining,

Prove nature a prey to decay and disease.

I. [There is no heading in the Quarto.]