Could this have been-a word, a look,
That 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,
Once long for him thou ne'er shalt see,

Who held, and holds thee in his heart?
Oh! who like him had watched thee here?
Or sadly marked thy glazing eye,
In that dread hour ere Death appear,
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 flowed as fast-as now they flow.
Shall they not flow, when many a day.
In these, to me, deserted towers,
Ere called but for a time away,

Affection's mingling tears were ours?
Ours too the glance none saw beside;
The smile none else might understand;
The whispered thought of hearts allied,"
The pressure of the thrilling hand;
The kiss, so guiltless and refined,

That Love each warmer wish forbore;
Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind,
Ev'n Passion blushed to plead for more."

iii. (a) The kiss that left no sting behind
So guiltless Passion thus forbore;
Those eyes bespoke so pure a mind,
That Love forgot to{plead for more.

VOL. III.

ask

D

iii.

The tone, that taught me to rejoice,
When prone, unlike thee, to repine;
The song, celestial from thy voice,

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!

Well hast thou left in Life's best bloomi
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

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:

On earth thy love was such to me;

It fain would form my hope in Heaven!

iii.

October 11, 1811.

[First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

(b) The kiss that left no sting behind,

So guiltless Love each wish forebore;
Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind,

That Passion blushed to smile for more.—

[Pencilled alternative stanzas.]

i. Well hast thou fled -[MS. erased.]

ii.

If judging from my present pain
That rest alone-

-[MS. erased.]

If rest alone is in the tomb.—[MS.]

iii. So let it be my hope in Heaven.-[MS. erased.]

AWAY, AWAY, YE NOTES OF WOE !i 1

I.

AWAY, away, ye notes of Woe!

Be silent, thou once soothing Strain,
Or I must flee from hence-for, oh!
I dare not trust those sounds again.".
To me they speak of brighter days—
But lull the chords, for now, alas! iii.
I must not think, I may not gaze,'
On what I am-on what I was.

2.

iv.

The voice that made those sounds more sweet".
Is hushed, and all their charms are fled;
And now their softest notes repeat

A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead!
Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,
Belovéd dust! since dust thou art;
And all that once was Harmony

Is worse than discord to my heart!

3.

'Tis silent all !-but on my ear vi.

The well remembered Echoes thrill ;

I hear a voice I would not hear,

A voice that now might well be still :

i. Stanzas.-[MS.

ii. I dare not hear

Editions 1812-1832.]
--[MS. erased.]

iii. But hush the chords

-.—[MS. erased.]

iv. I dare not gaze.—[MS. erased.]

v. The voice that made that song more sweet.-[MS.]

I. ["I wrote it a day or two ago, on hearing a song of former days."—Letter to Hodgson, December 8, 1811, Letters, 1898, ii. 82.]

Yet oft my doubting Soul 'twill shake;
Ev'n Slumber owns its gentle tone,
Till Consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.

4.

Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream ;
A Star that trembled o'er the deep,

Then turned from earth its tender beam.
But he who through Life's dreary way

Must pass, when Heaven is veiled in wrath,

Will long lament the vanished ray

That scattered gladness o'er his path.

December 8, 1811.

[First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

ONE STRUGGLE MORE, AND I AM FREE.

I.

ONE struggle more, and I am free

From pangs that rend my heart in twain ;

One last long sigh to Love and thee,

Then back to busy life again.

It suits me well to mingle now

ii.

With things that never pleased before:

iii.

Though every joy is fled below,

What future grief can touch me more ?

i. To Thyrza.-[Editions 1812-1831.]

ii. From pangs that tear

Such pangs that tear

-.-[MS.]

-.—[MS. erased.]

iv.

iii. With things that moved me not before.-[MS. erased.]

2.

Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not formed to live alone:
I'll be that light unmeaning thing

That smiles with all, and weeps with none. It was not thus in days more dear,

It never would have been, but thou i Hast fled, and left me lonely here; Thou'rt nothing,-all are nothing now.

3.

In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that Sorrow fain would wear
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Though gay companions o'er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;

Though Pleasure fires the maddening soul,
The Heart,—the Heart is lonely still!

4.

On many a lone and lovely night
It soothed to gaze upon the sky;
For then I deemed the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye:
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the Ægean wave,
"Now Thyrza gazes on that moon
Alas, it gleamed upon her grave!

5.

When stretched on Fever's sleepless bed, And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins,

i. It would not be, so hadst not thou

Withdrawn so soon •-[MS. erased.]