3.

As our ploughshare is the Sabre :
Here's the harvest of our labour;
For behind those battered breaches
Are our foes with all their riches:
There is Glory-there is plunder-
Then away despite of thunder!

[From an autograph MS. in the possession of Mr. Murray,
now for the first time printed.]

[LOVE AND DEATH.]

I.

I WATCHED thee when the foe was at our side,
Ready to strike at him—or thee and me.
Were safety hopeless-rather than divide
Aught with one loved save love and liberty:

2.

I watched thee on the breakers, when the rock
Received our prow and all was storm and fear,
And bade thee cling to me through every shock;
This arm would be thy bark, or breast thy bier.

3.

I watched thee when the fever glazed thine eyes, Yielding my couch and stretched me on the ground,

When overworn with watching, ne'er to rise

From thence if thou an early grave hadst found.

4.

The earthquake came, and rocked the quivering wall, And men and nature reeled as if with wine.

Whom did I seek around the tottering hall?

For thee. Whose safety first provide for? Thine.

5.

And when convulsive throes denied my breath
The faintest utterance to my fading thought,
To thee-to thee-e'en in the gasp of death
My spirit turned, oh! oftener than it ought.

6.

Thus much and more; and yet thou lov'st me not,
And never wilt! Love dwells not in our will.
Nor can I blame thee, though it be my lot
To strongly, wrongly, vainly love thee still.1

[First published, Murray's Magazine, February, 1887,
vol. i. pp. 145, 146.]

LAST WORDS ON GREECE.

WHAT are to me those honours or renown
Past or to come, a new-born people's cry?
Albeit for such I could despise a crown

Of aught save laurel, or for such could die.

I am a fool of passion, and a frown

Of thine to me is as an adder's eye.

To the poor bird whose pinion fluttering down
Wafts unto death the breast it bore so high;

1. ["The last he ever wrote. From a rough copy found amongst his papers at the back of the 'Song of Suli.' Copied November, 1824.-John C. Hobhouse.”

"A note, attached to the verses by Lord Byron, states they were addressed to no one in particular, and were a mere poetical Scherzo. -J. C. H."]

Such is this maddening fascination grown,

So strong thy magic or so weak am I.

[First published, Murray's Magazine, February, 1887, vol. i. p. 146.]

ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTYSIXTH YEAR.1

I.

"T is time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,

Still let me love!

2.

My days are in the yellow leaf;

The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief

Are mine alone!

1. ["This morning Lord Byron came from his bedroom into the apartment where Colonel Stanhope and some friends were assembled, and said with a smile-' You were complaining, the other day, that I never write any poetry now:-this is my birthday, and I have just finished something, which, I think, is better than what I usually write.' He then produced these noble and affecting verses, which were afterwards found written in his journals, with only the following introduction: 'Jan. 22; on this day I complete my 36th year." -A Narrative of Lord Byron's Last Journey to Greece, 1825, p. 125, by Count Gamba. In the Morning Chronicle, October 29, 1824, the lines are headed, "Lord Byron's Latest Verses," and are prefaced by the following note: "We have been indebted to a friend for the following immortal verses, the last he ever composed. Four of the lines have already appeared in an article in the Westminster Review" ("Lord Byron in Greece," July, 1824, vol. ii. p. 227).]

3.

The fire that on my bosom preys

Is lone as some Volcanic isle ;
No torch is kindled at its blaze-
A funeral pile.

4.

The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain.

5.

But 't is not thus-and 't is not here- .

Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now Where Glory decks the hero's bier,

Or binds his brow.

6.

iii.

The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,"
Glory and Greece, around me see !
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,1
Was not more free.

7.

Awake! (not Greece-she is awake !)
Awake, my spirit! Think through whom

i. Is like to

ii.

iii.

it is not here.-[M.C.]

seals the hero's bier.-[M.C.]

iv. The steed-the Banner-and the Field.-[MS. B.M.]

1. [The slain were borne on their shields. Witness the Spartan mother's speech to her son, delivered with his buckler: "either with this or on this" (B.M. Addit. MS. 31,038).]

Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,*
And then strike home!

8.

Tread those reviving passions down,"
Unworthy manhood !-unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of Beauty be.

9.

If thou regret'st thy youth, why live?
The land of honourable death
Is here:-up to the Field, and give
Away thy breath!

IO.

Seek out-less often sought than found—
A soldier's grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,

And take thy Rest.

Missolonghi, Jan. 22, 1824.

[First published, Morning Chronicle, October 29, 1824.]