Selected Poems

by Byron

  Them on where each would foremost bleed;

  But could not o’er myself evince

  The like control — But to resume:

  295

  I loved, and was beloved again;

  In sooth, it is a happy doom,

  But yet where happiest ends in pain. –

  We met in secret, and the hour

  Which led me to that lady’s bower

  300

  Was fiery Expectation’s dower.

  My days and nights were nothing – all

  Except that hour which doth recall

  In the long lapse from youth to age

  No other like itself — I’d give

  305

  The Ukraine back again to live

  It o’er once more – and be a page,

  The happy page, who was the lord

  Of one soft heart, and his own sword,

  And had no other gem nor wealth

  310

  Save nature’s gift of youth and health. —

  We met in secret — doubly sweet,

  Some say, they find it so to meet;

  I know not that – I would have given

  My life but to have call’d her mine

  315

  In the full view of earth and heaven;

  For I did oft and long repine

  That we could only meet by stealth.

  VIII

  ‘For lovers there are many eyes,

  And such there were on us; – the devil

  320

  On such occasions should be civil –

  The devil! — I’m loth to do him wrong,

  It might be some untoward saint,

  Who would not be at rest too long,

  But to his pious bile gave vent –

  325

  But one fair night, some lurking spies

  Surprised and seized us both.

  The Count was something more than wroth –

  I was unarm’d; but if in steel,

  All cap-à-pie from head to heel,

  330

  What ’gainst their numbers could I do? —

  ’Twas near his castle, far away

  From city or from succour near,

  And almost on the break of day;

  I did not think to see another,

  335

  My moments seem’d reduced to few;

  And with one prayer to Mary Mother,

  And, it may be, a saint or two,

  As I resigned me to my fate,

  They led me to the castle gate:

  340

  Theresa’s doom I never knew,

  Our lot was henceforth separate. —

  An angry man, ye may opine,

  Was he, the proud Count Palatine;

  And he had reason good to be,

  345

  But he was most enraged lest such

  An accident should chance to touch

  Upon his future pedigree;

  Nor less amazed, that such a blot

  His noble ’scutcheon should have got,

  350

  While he was highest of his line;

  Because unto himself he seem’d

  The first of men, nor less he deem’d

  In others’ eyes, and most in mine.

  ‘Sdeath! with a page – perchance a king

  355

  Had reconciled him to the thing;

  But with a stripling of a page —

  I felt – but cannot paint his rage.

  IX

  ‘ “Bring forth the horse!” – the horse was brought;

  In truth, he was a noble steed,

  360

  A Tartar of the Ukraine breed,

  Who look’d as though the speed of thought

  Were in his limbs; but he was wild,

  Wild as the wild deer, and untaught,

  With spur and bridle undefiled —

  365

  ’Twas but a day he had been caught

  And snorting, with erected mane,

  And struggling fiercely, but in vain,

  In the full foam of wrath and dread

  To me the desert-born was led:

  370

  They bound me on, that menial throng,

  Upon his back with many a thong;

  Then loosed him with a sudden lash –

  Away! – away! – and on we dash! –

  Torrents less rapid and less rash.

  X

  375

  ‘Away! – away! – My breath was gone –

  I saw not where he hurried on:

  ’Twas scarcely yet the break of day,

  And on he foam’d – away! – away! –

  The last of human sounds which rose,

  380

  As I was darted from my foes,

  Was the wild shout of savage laughter,

  Which on the wind came roaring after

  A moment from that rabble rout:

  With sudden wrath I wrench’d my head,

  385

  And snapp’d the cord, which to the mane

  Had bound my neck in lieu of rein,

  And, writhing half my form about,

  Howl’d back my curse; but ’midst the tread,

  The thunder of my courser’s speed,

  390

  Perchance they did not hear nor heed:

  It vexes me — for I would fain

  Have paid their insult back again.

  I paid it well in after days:

  There is not of that castle gate,

  395

  Its drawbridge and portcullis’ weight,

  Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left;

  Nor of its fields a blade of grass,

  Save what grows on a ridge of wall,

  Where stood the hearth-stone of the hall;

  400

  And many a time ye there might pass,

  Nor dream that e’er that fortress was:

  I saw its turrets in a blaze,

  Their crackling battlements all cleft,

  And the hot lead pour down like rain

  405

  From off the scorch’d and blackening roof,

  Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof.

  They little thought that day of pain,

  When launch’d, as on the lightning’s flash,

  They bade me to destruction dash,

  410

  That one day I should come again,

  With twice five thousand horse, to thank

  The Count for his uncourteous ride.

  They play’d me then a bitter prank,

  When, with the wild horse for my guide,

  415

  They bound me to his foaming flank:

  At length I play’d them one as frank –

  For time at last sets all things even —

  And if we do but watch the hour,

  There never yet was human power

  420

  Which could evade, if unforgiven,

  The patient search and vigil long

  Of him who treasures up a wrong.

  XI

  ‘Away, away, my steed and I,

  Upon the pinions of the wind,

  425

  All human dwellings left behind;

  We sped like meteors through the sky,

  When with its crackling sound the night

  Is chequer’d with the northern light:

  Town – village – none were on our track

  430

  But a wild plain of far extent,

  And bounded by a forest black;

  And, save the scarce seen battlement

  On distant heights of some strong hold,

  Against the Tartars built of old,

  435

  No trace of man. The year before

  A Turkish army had march’d o’er;

  And where the Spahi’s hoof hath trod,

  The verdure flies the bloody sod: —

  The sky was dull, and dim, and gray,

  440

 
And a low breeze crept moaning by –

  I could have answer’d with a sigh –

  But fast we fled, away, away –

  And I could neither sigh nor pray;

  And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain

  445

  Upon the courser’s bristling mane;

  But, snorting still with rage and fear,

  He flew upon his far career:

  At times I almost thought, indeed,

  He must have slacken’d in his speed;

  450

  But no — my bound and slender frame

  Was nothing to his angry might,

  And merely like a spur became:

  Each motion which I made to free

  My swoln limbs from their agony

  455

  Increased his fury and affright:

  I tried my voice, – ’twas faint and low,

  But yet he swerved as from a blow;

  And, starting to each accent, sprang

  As from a sudden trumpet’s clang:

  460

  Meantime my cords were wet with gore,

  Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o’er;

  And in my tongue the thirst became

  A something fierier far than flame.

  XII

  ‘We near’d the wild wood – ’twas so wide,

  465

  I saw no bounds on either side;

  ’Twas studded with old sturdy trees,

  That bent not to the roughest breeze

  Which howls down from Siberia’s waste,

  And strips the forest in its haste, –

  470

  But these were few, and far between

  Set thick with shrubs more young and green,

  Luxuriant with their annual leaves,

  Ere strown by those autumnal eves

  That nip the forest’s foliage dead,

  475

  Discolour’d with a lifeless red,

  Which stands thereon like stiffen’d gore

  Upon the slain when battle’s o’er,

  And some long winter’s night hath shed

  Its frost o’er every tombless head,

  480

  So cold and stark the raven’s beak

  May peck unpierced each frozen cheek:

  ’Twas a wild waste of underwood,

  And here and there a chestnut stood,

  The strong oak, and the hardy pine;

  485

  But far apart – and well it were,

  Or else a different lot were mine –

  The boughs gave way, and did not tear

  My limbs; and I found strength to bear

  My wounds, already scarr’d with cold –

  490

  My bonds forbade to loose my hold.

  We rustled through the leaves like wind,

  Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind;

  By night I heard them on the track,

  Their troop came hard upon our back,

  495

  With their long gallop, which can tire

  The hound’s deep hate, and hunter’s fire:

  Where’er we flew they follow’d on,

  Nor left us with the morning sun;

  Behind I saw them, scarce a rood,

  500

  At day-break winding through the wood,

  And through the night had heard their feet

  Their stealing, rustling step repeat.

  Oh! how I wish’d for spear or sword,

  At least to die amidst the horde,

  505

  And perish – if it must be so –

  At bay, destroying many a foe.

  When first my courser’s race begun,

  I wish’d the goal already won;

  But now I doubted strength and speed.

  510

  Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed

  Had nerved him like the mountain-roe;

  Nor faster falls the blinding snow

  Which whelms the peasant near the door

  Whose threshold he shall cross no more,

  515

  Bewilder’d with the dazzling blast,

  Than through the forest-paths he past –

  Untired, untamed, and worse than wild;

  All furious as a favour’d child

  Balk’d of its wish; or fiercer still –

  520

  A woman piqued – who has her will.

  XIII

  ‘The wood was past; ’twas more than noon,

  But chill the air, although in June;

  Or it might be my veins ran cold —

  Prolong’d endurance tames the bold;

  525

  And I was then not what I seem,

  But headlong as a wintry stream,

  And wore my feelings out before

  I well could count their causes o’er:

  And what with fury, fear, and wrath,

  530

  The tortures which beset my path,

  Cold, hunger, sorrow, shame, distress,

  Thus bound in nature’s nakedness;

  Sprung from a race whose rising blood

  When stirr’d beyond its calmer mood,

  535

  And trodden hard upon, is like

  The rattle-snake’s, in act to strike,

  What marvel if this worn-out trunk

  Beneath its woes a moment sunk?

  The earth gave way, the skies roll’d round,

  540

  I seem’d to sink upon the ground;

  But err’d, for I was fastly bound.

  My heart turn’d sick, my brain grew sore,

  And throbb’d awhile, then beat no more:

  The skies spun like a mighty wheel;

  545

  I saw the trees like drunkards reel,

  And a slight flash sprang o’er my eyes,

  Which saw no farther: he who dies

  Can die no more than then I died.

  O’ertortured by that ghastly ride,

  550

  I felt the blackness come and go,

  And strove to wake; but could not make

  My senses climb up from below:

  I felt as on a plank at sea,

  When all the waves that dash o’er thee,

  555

  At the same time upheave and whelm,

  And hurl thee towards a desert realm.

  My undulating life was as

  The fancied lights that flitting pass

  Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when

  560

  Fever begins upon the brain;

  But soon it pass’d, with little pain,

  But a confusion worse than such:

  I own that I should deem it much,

  Dying, to feel the same again;

  565

  And yet I do suppose we must

  Feel far more ere we turn to dust:

  No matter; I have bared my brow

  Full in Death’s face — before — and now.

  XIV

  ‘My thoughts came back; where was I? Cold,

  570

  And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse

  Life reassumed its lingering hold,

  And throb by throb: till grown a pang

  Which for a moment would convulse,

  My blood reflow’d, though thick and chill;

  575

  My ear with uncouth noises rang,

  My heart began once more to thrill;

  My sight return’d, though dim; alas!

  And thicken’d, as it were, with glass.

  Methought the dash of waves was nigh;

  580

  There was a gleam too of the sky,

  Studded with stars; — it is no dream;

  The wild horse swims the wilder stream!

  The bright broad river’s gushing tide

  Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide,

  585

  And we are half-way, struggling o’er

  To yon unknown and silent shore.

&nb
sp; The waters broke my hollow trance,

  And with a temporary strength

  My stiffen’d limbs were rebaptized.

  590

  My courser’s broad breast proudly braves,

  And dashes off the ascending waves,

  And onward we advance!

  We reach the slippery shore at length,

  A haven I but little prized,

  595

  For all behind was dark and drear,

  And all before was night and fear.

  How many hours of night or day

  In those suspended pangs I lay,

  I could not tell; I scarcely knew

  600

  If this were human breath I drew.

  XV

  ‘With glossy skin, and dripping mane,

  And reeling limbs, and reeking flank,

  The wild steed’s sinewy nerves still strain

  Up the repelling bank.

  605

  We gain the top: a boundless plain

  Spreads through the shadow of the night,

  And onward, onward, onward, seems,

  Like precipices in our dreams,

  To stretch beyond the sight;

  610

  And here and there a speck of white,

  Or scatter’d spot of dusky green,

  In masses broke into the light,

  As rose the moon upon my right.

  But nought distinctly seen

  615

  In the dim waste would indicate

  The omen of a cottage gate;

  No twinkling taper from afar

  Stood like a hospitable star;

  Not even an ignis-fatuus rose

  620

  To make him merry with my woes:

  That very cheat had cheer’d me then!

  Although detected, welcome still,

  Reminding me, through every ill,

  Of the abodes of men.

  XVI

  625

  ‘Onward we went — but slack and slow;

  His savage force at length o’erspent,

  The drooping courser, faint and low,

  All feebly foaming went.

  A sickly infant had had power

  630

  To guide him forward in that hour;

  But useless all to me.

  His new-born tameness nought avail’d,

  My limbs were bound; my force had fail’d,

  Perchance, had they been free.

  635

  With feeble effort still I tried

  To rend the bonds so starkly tied –

  But still it was in vain;

  My limbs were only wrung the more,

  And soon the idle strife gave o’er,

  640

  Which but prolong’d their pain:

  The dizzy race seem’d almost done,

  Although no goal was nearly won:

  Some streaks announced the coming sun –

  How slow, alas! he came!

  645

  Methought that mist of dawning gray

  Would never dapple into day;

  How heavily it roll’d away –

  Before the eastern flame

  Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,

  650

  And call’d the radiance from their cars,

  And fill’d the earth, from his deep throne,