2.

Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of

happiness

Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess : The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain

The shore to which their shivered sail shall never stretch

again.

3.

Then the mortal coldness of the soul like Death itself

comes down;

It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its

own;

That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where the ice appears.

4.

Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast,

Through midnight hours that yield no more their former hope of rest;

'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruined turret wreath,11 All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath.

i. As ivy o'er the mouldering wall that heavily hath crept.—[MS.] I. [Compare

"And oft we see gay ivy's wreath

The tree with brilliant bloom o'erspread,
When, part its leaves and gaze beneath,

We find the hidden tree is dead."

"To Anna," The Warrior's Return, etc., by

Mrs. Opie, 1808, p. 144.]

5.

Oh, could I feel as I have felt,—or be what I have been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanished

scene;

As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be,

So, midst the withered waste of life, those tears would flow

to me.

March, 1815.

[First published, Poems, 1816.]

ON THE DEATH OF THE DUKE OF DORSET.1

I.

I HEARD thy fate without a tear,
Thy loss with scarce a sigh;
And yet thou wast surpassing dear,
Too loved of all to die.

I know not what hath seared my eye

Its tears refuse to start;

But every drop, it bids me dry,i.

Falls dreary on my heart.

2.

Yes, dull and heavy, one by one,
They sink and turn to care,

i. · it bids deny.—[MS. M.]

1. [From an autograph MS. in the possession of Mr. Murray. The MS. is headed, in pencil, "Lines written on the Death of the Duke of Dorset, a College Friend of Lord Byron's, who was killed by a fall from his horse while hunting." It is endorsed, “Bought of Markham Thorpe, August 29, 1844." (For Duke of Dorset, see Poetical Works, 1898, i. 194, n. 2; and Letters, 1899, iii. 181, n. 1.)]

As caverned waters wear the stone,
Yet dropping harden there:
They cannot petrify more fast,
Than feelings sunk remain,
Which coldly fixed regard the past,

But never melt again.

[First published, Works, Paris, 1826, p. 716.]

STANZAS FOR MUSIC.

I.

BRIGHT be the place of thy soul !
No lovelier spirit than thine
E'er burst from its mortal control,
In the orbs of the blessed to shine.
On earth thou wert all but divine,
As thy soul shall immortally be;"

And our sorrow may cease to repine

When we know that thy God is with thee.

2.

Light be the turf of thy tomb !". 1

May its verdure like emeralds be!

iil.

There should not be the shadow of gloom

i.

In aught that reminds us of thee.

shall eternally be.—[MS. erased.]

ii. Green be the turf ·

.-[MS.]

iii. May its verdure be sweetest to see.-[MS.]

1. [Compare "O lay me, ye that see the light, near some rock of my hills: let the thick hazels be around, let the rustling oaks be near. Green be the place of my rest."-"The War of InisThona," Works of Ossian, 1765, i. 156.]

Young flowers and an evergreen

tree1

May spring from the spot of thy rest:
But nor cypress nor yew let us see;

For why should we mourn for the blest?
[First published, Examiner, June 4, 1815.]

NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL.1

[FROM THE FRENCH.]

I.

FAREWELL to the Land, where the gloom of my Glory
Arose and o'ershadowed the earth with her name-
She abandons me now-but the page of her story,
The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame.".
I have warred with a World which vanquished me only
When the meteor of conquest allured me too far;

I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely,
The last single Captive to millions in war.

2.

Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crowned me,
I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth,—
But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee,
Decayed in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth.

i. Young flowers and a far-spreading tree
May wave on the spot of thy rest;

But nor cypress nor yew let it be.-[MS.]

ii. The brightest and blackest are due to my fame.—[MS.]
iii. But thy destiny wills

--. -.—[MS.]

1. ["We need scarcely remind our readers that there are points in these spirited lines, with which our opinions do not accord; and, indeed, the author himself has told us that he rather adapted them to what he considered the speaker's feelings than his own.' Examiner, July 30, 1815.]

Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted

In strife with the storm, when their battles were wonThen the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was blasted Had still soared with eyes fixed on Victory's sun!

3.

Farewell to thee, France !-but when Liberty rallies
Once more in thy regions, remember me then,—
The Violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys;
Though withered, thy tear will unfold it again—
Yet, yet, I may baffle the hosts that surround us,
And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voice-
There are links which must break in the chain that has
bound us,

Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice!

July 25, 1815. London.

[First published, Examiner, July 30, 1815.]

FROM THE FRENCH.1

I.

MUST thou go, my glorious Chief,
Severed from thy faithful few?

i. Oh for the thousands of Those who have perished
By elements blasted, unvanquished by man-

Then the hope which till now I have fearlessly cherished,
Had waved o'er thine eagles in Victory's van.—[MS.]

1. ["All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer who had been exalted from the ranks by Buonaparte. He clung to his master's knees; wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted."-Private Letter from Brussels.]