by Homer
Thy soft heart refused to discover
The faults which so many could find.
Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted, 5
It shrunk not to share it with me,
And the love which my spirit hath painted
It never hath found but in thee.
Then when nature around me is smiling,
The last smile which answers to mine, 10
I do not believe it beguiling,
Because it reminds me of thine;
And when winds are at war with the ocean,
As the breasts I believed in with me,
If their billows excite an emotion, 15
It is that they bear me from thee.
Though the rock of my last hope is shivered,
And its fragments are sunk in the wave,
Though I feel that my soul is delivered
To pain — it shall not be its slave. 20
There is many a pang to pursue me:
They may crush, but they shall not contemn;
They may torture, but shall not subdue me;
’Tis of thee that I think — not of them.
Though human, thou didst not deceive me, 25
Though woman, thou didst not forsake,
Though loved, thou forborest to grieve me,
Though slander’d, thou never couldst shake;
Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me,
Though parted, it was not to fly, 30
Though watchful, ’twas not to defame me,
Nor, mute, that the world might belie.
Yet I blame not the world, nor despise it,
Nor the war of the many with one;
If my soul was not fitted to prize it, 35
’Twas folly not sooner to shun:
And if dearly that error hath cost me,
And more than I once could foresee,
I have found that, whatever it lost me,
It could not deprive me of thee. 40
From the wreck of the past, which hath perish’d,
Thus much I at least may recall,
It hath taught me that what I most cherish’d
Deserved to be dearest of all:
In the desert a fountain is springing, 45
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of thee.
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Epistle to Augusta
George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824)
MY sister! my sweet sister! if a name
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine;
Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim
No tears, but tenderness to answer mine:
Go where I will, to me thou art the same — 5
A loved regret which I would not resign.
There yet are two things in my destiny, —
A world to roam through, and a home with thee.
The first were nothing — had I still the last,
It were the haven of my happiness; 10
But other claims and other ties thou hast,
And mine is not the wish to make them less.
A strange doom is thy father’s son’s, and past
Recalling, as it lies beyond redress;
Reversed for him our grandsire’s fate of yore, — 15
He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore.
If my inheritance of storms hath been
In other elements, and on the rocks
Of perils, overlook’d or unforeseen,
I have sustain’d my share of worldly shocks, 20
The fault was mine; nor do I seek to screen
My errors with defensive paradox;
I have been cunning in mine overthrow,
The careful pilot of my proper woe.
Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward. 25
My whole life was a contest, since the day
That gave me being, gave me that which marr’d
The gift, — a fate, or will, that walk’d astray;
And I at times have found the struggle hard,
And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay: 30
But now I fain would for a time survive,
If but to see what next can well arrive.
Kingdoms and empires in my little day
I have outlived, and yet I am not old:
And when I look on this, the petty spray 35
Of my own years of trouble, which have roll’d
Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away:
Something — I know not what — does still uphold
A spirit of slight patience; — not in vain,
Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain. 40
Perhaps the workings of defiance stir
Within me, — or perhaps a cold despair,
Brought when ills habitually recur, —
Perhaps a kindlier clime, or purer air,
(For even to this may change of soul refer, 45
And with light armour we may learn to bear),
Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not
The chief companion of a calmer lot.
I feel almost at times as I have felt
In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks, 50
Which do remember me of where I dwelt
Ere my young mind was sacrificed to books,
Come as of yore upon me, and can melt
My heart with recognition of their looks;
And even at moments I could think I see 55
Some living thing to love — but none like thee.
Here are the Alpine landscapes which create
A fund for contemplation — to admire
Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;
But something worthier do such scenes inspire; 60
Here to be lonely is not desolate,
For much I view which I could most desire,
And, above all, a lake I can behold
Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old.
Oh that thou wert but with me! — but I grow 65
The fool of my own wishes, and forget
The solitude, which I have vaunted so,
Has lost its praise in this but one regret;
There may be others which I less may show! —
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet 70
I feel an ebb in my philosophy,
And the tide rising in my alter’d eye.
I did remind thee of our own dear Lake,
By the old Hall which may be mine no more.
Leman’s is fair; but think not I forsake 75
The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore;
Sad havoc Time must with my memory make,
Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before;
Though, like all things which I have loved, they are
Resign’d for ever, or divided far. 80
The world is all before me; I but ask
Of Nature that with which she will comply —
It is but in her summer’s sun to bask,
To mingle with the quiet of her sky,
To see her gentle face without a mask, 85
And never gaze on it with apathy.
She was my early friend, and now shall be
My sister — till I look again on thee.
I can reduce all feeling but this one;
And that I would not; — for at length I see 90
Such scenes as those wherein my life begun.
The earliest — even the only paths for me —
Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun,
I had been better than I now can be;
The passions which have torn me would have slept; 95
I had not suffer’d and thou hadst not wept.
With false Ambition what had I to do?
Little with Love, and least of all with Fame;
And yet they came unsough
t, and with me grew,
And made me all which they can make — a name. 100
Yet this was not the end I did pursue;
Surely I once beheld a nobler aim.
But all is over — I am one the more
To baffled millions which have gone before.
And for the future, this world’s future may 105
From me demand but little of my care;
I have outlived myself by many a day;
Having survived so many things that were;
My years have been no slumber, but the prey
Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share 110
Of life which might have fill’d a century,
Before its fourth in time had pass’d me by.
And for the remnant which may be to come
I am content; and for the past I feel
Not thankless, — for within the crowded sum 115
Of struggles, happiness at times would steal,
And for the present, I would not benumb
My feelings farther — Nor shall I conceal
That with all this I still can look around,
And worship Nature with a thought profound. 120
For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart
I know myself secure, as thou in mine.
We were and are — I am, even as thou art —
Beings who ne’er each other can resign:
It is the same, together or apart, 125
From life’s commencement to its slow decline
We are entwined — let death come slow or fast,
The tie which bound the first endures the last!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Maid of Athens
George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824)
MAID of Athens, ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow, before I go, 5
[Greek].
By those tresses unconfined,
Woo’d by each Ægean wind;
By those lids whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks’ blooming tinge; 10
By those wild eyes like the roe,
[Greek].
By that lip I long to taste;
By that zone-encircled waist;
By all the token-flowers that tell 15
What words can never speak so well;
By love’s alternate joy and woe,
[Greek].
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone. 20
Though I fly to Istambol,
Athens holds my heart and soul;
Can I cease to love thee? No!
[Greek].
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Darkness
George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824)
I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream,
The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless; and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air 5
Morn came and went — and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation: and all hearts
Were chill’d into a selfish prayer for light:
And they did live by watchfires — and the thrones, 10
The palaces of crowned kings — the huts,
The habitations of all things which dwell,
Were burnt for beacons; cities were consumed,
And men were gathered round their blazing homes
To look once more into each other’s face 15
Happy were those who dwelt within the eye
Of the volcanoes, and their mountain-torch:
A fearful hope was all the world contained;
Forests were set on fire — but hour by hour
They fell and faded — and the crackling trunks 20
Extinguish’d with a crash — and all was black.
The brows of men by the despairing light
Wore an unearthly aspect, as by fits
The flashes fell upon them; some lay down
And hid their eyes and wept; and some did rest 25
Their chins upon their clenched hands and smiled;
And others hurried to and fro, and fed
Their funeral piles with fuel, and look’d up
With mad disquietude on the dull sky,
The pall of a past world; and then again 30
With curses cast them down upon the dust,
And gnash’d their teeth and howl’d: the wild birds shriek’d,
And, terrified, did flutter on the ground.
And flap their useless wings; the wildest brutes
Came tame and tremulous; and vipers crawl’d 35
And twined themselves among the multitude,
Hissing, but stingless — they were slain for food:
And War, which for a moment was no more,
Did glut himself again: — a meal was bought
With blood, and each sate sullenly apart 40
Gorging himself in gloom: no love was left;
All earth was but one thought — and that was death
Immediate and inglorious; and the pang
Of famine fed upon all entrails — men
Died, and their bones were tombless as their flesh; 45
The meagre by the meagre were devour’d,
Even dogs assail’d their masters, all save one,
And he was faithful to a corse, and kept
The birds and beasts and famish’d men at bay,
Till hunger clung them, or the dropping dead 50
Lured their lank jaws; himself sought out no food,
But with a piteous and perpetual moan,
And a quick desolate cry, licking the hand
Which answer’d not with a caress — he died.
The crowd was famish’d by degrees; but two 55
Of an enormous city did survive,
And they were enemies: they met beside
The dying embers of an altar-place,
Where had been heap’d a mass of holy things
For an unholy usage; they raked up, 60
And shivering scraped with their cold skeleton hands
The feeble ashes, and their feeble breath
Blew for a little life, and made a flame
Which was a mockery; then they lifted up
Their eyes as it grew lighter, and beheld 65
Each other’s aspects — saw and shriek’d, and died —
Ev’n of their mutual hideousness they died,
Unknowing who he was upon whose brow
Famine had written Fiend. The world was void,
The populous, and the powerful was a lump, 70
Seasonless, herbless, treeless, manless, lifeless,
A lump of death — a chaos of hard clay.
The rivers, lakes, and ocean all stood still,
And nothing stirr’d within their silent depths;
Ships sailorless lay rotting on the sea, 75
And their masts fell down piecemeal; as they dropp’d,
They slept on the abyss without a surge —
The waves were dead; the tides were in their grave,
The Moon, their mistress, had expired before;
The winds were wither’d in the stagnant air, 80
And the clouds perish’d; Darkness had no need
Of aid from them — She was the Universe!
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Longing
George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824)
THE CASTLED crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine,
Wh
ose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine.
And hills all rich with blossom’d trees, 5
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scatter’d cities crowning these,
Whose far white walls along them shine,
Have strew’d a scene, which I should see
With double joy wert thou with me. 10
And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o’er this paradise:
Above, the frequent feudal towers
Through green leaves lift their walls of gray; 15
And many a rock which steeply lowers,
And noble arch in proud decay,
Look o’er this vale of vintage-bowers;
But one thing want these banks of Rhine, —
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine! 20
I send the lilies given to me;
Though long before thy hand they touch,
I know that they must wither’d be,
But yet reject them not as such;
For I have cherish’d them as dear, 25
Because they yet may meet thine eye,
And guide thy soul to mine even here,
When thou behold’st them, drooping nigh,
And know’st them gather’d by the Rhine,
And offer’d from my heart to thine! 30
The river nobly foams and flows,
The charm of this enchanted ground,
And all its thousand turns disclose
Some fresher beauty varying round:
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound 35
Through life to dwell delighted here;
Nor could on earth a spot be found
To nature and to me so dear,
Could thy dear eyes in following mine
Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine! 40
List of Poems in Alphabetical Order
List of Poets in Alphabetical Order
Fare Thee Well
George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788–1824)
FARE thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well:
