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Selected Poems

Page 48

by Byron


  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,

  30

  And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay:

  But now I fain would for a time survive,

  If but to see what next can well arrive.

  V

  Kingdoms and empires in my little day

  I have outlived, and yet I am not old;

  35

  And when I look on this, the petty spray

  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,

  40

  Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain.

  VI

  Perhaps the workings of defiance stir

  Within me, – or perhaps a cold despair,

  Brought on when ills habitually recur, –

  Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air,

  45

  (For even to this may change of soul refer,

  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.

  VII

  I feel almost at times as I have felt

  50

  In happy childhood; trees, and flowers, and brooks,

  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;

  55

  And even at moments I could think I see

  Some living thing to love – but none like thee.

  VIII

  Here are the Alpine landscapes which create

  A fund for contemplation; – to admire

  Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;

  60

  But something worthier do such scenes inspire:

  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.

  IX

  65

  Oh that thou wert but with me! – but I grow

  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; -

  70

  I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet

  I feel an ebb in my philosophy,

  And the tide rising in my alter’d eye.

  X

  I did remind thee of our own dear Lake,

  By the old Hall which may be mine no more.

  75

  Leman’s is fair; but think not I forsake

  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

  80

  Resign’d for ever, or divided far.

  XI

  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,

  85

  To see her gentle face without a mask,

  And never gaze on it with apathy.

  She was my early friend, and now shall be

  My sister – till I look again on thee.

  XII

  I can reduce all feelings but this one;

  90

  And that I would not; – for at length I see

  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;

  95

  The passions which have torn me would have slept;

  I had not suffer’d, and thou hadst not wept.

  XIII

  With false Ambition what had I to do?

  Little with Love, and least of all with Fame;

  And yet they came unsought, and with me grew,

  100

  And made me all which they can make – a name.

  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.

  XIV

  105

  And for the future, this world’s future may

  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

  110

  Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share

  Of life which might have fill’d a century,

  Before its fourth in time had pass’d me by.

  XV

  And for the remnant which may be to come

  I am content; and for the past I feel

  115

  Not thankless, — for within the crowded sum

  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

  120

  And worship Nature with a thought profound.

  XVI

  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;

  125

  It is the same, together or apart,

  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!

  Lines (On Hearing that Lady Byron mas Ill)

  And thou wert sad – yet I was not with thee;

  And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near;

  Methought that joy and health alone could be

  Where I was not — and pain and sorrow here!

  5

  And is it thus? – it is as I foretold,

  And shall be more so; for the mind recoils

  Upon itself, and the wreck’d heart lies cold,

  While heaviness collects the shatter’d spoils

  It is not in the storm nor in the strife

  10

  We feel benumb’d, and wish to be no more,

  But in the after-silence on the shore,

  When all is lost, except a little life.

  I am too well avenged! – but ’twas my right;

  Whate’er my sins might be, thou wert not sent

  15

  To be the Nemesis who should requite –

  Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument.

  Mercy is for the merciful! – if thou

  Hast been of such, ’twill be accorded now.

  Thy nights are banish’d from the realms of sleep! –

  20

  Yes! they may flatter thee, but thou shalt feel

  A hollow agony which will not heal,

  For thou art pillow’d on a curse too deep;

  Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap

  The bitter harvest in a woe as real!

  25

  I have had many foes, but none like thee;

  For ’gainst the rest myself I could defend

  And be avenged, or turn them into friend;

  But thou in safe implacability

  Hadst nought to
dread – in thy own weakness shielded,

  30

  And in my love, which hath but too much yielded,

  And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare –

  And thus upon the world – trust in thy truth –

  And the wild fame of my ungovern’d youth –

  On things that were not, and on things that are —

  35

  Even upon such a basis hast thou built

  A monument, whose cement hath been guilt!

  The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord,

  And hew’d down, with an unsuspected sword,

  Fame, peace, and hope — and all the better life

  40

  Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart,

  Might still have risen from out the grave of strife,

  And found a nobler duty than to part.

  But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice,

  Trafficking with them in a purpose cold,

  45

  For present anger, and for future gold –

  And buying other’s grief at any price.

  And thus once enter’d into crooked ways,

  The early truth, which was thy proper praise,

  Did not still walk beside thee — but at times,

  50

  And with a breast unknowing its own crimes,

  Deceit, averments incompatible,

  Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell

  In Janus-spirits – the significant eye

  Which learns to lie with silence — the pretext

  55

  Of Prudence, with advantages annex’d —

  The acquiescence in all things which tend,

  No matter how, to the desired end —

  All found a place in thy philosophy.

  The means were worthy, and the end is won –

  60

  I would not do by thee as thou hast done!

  September, 1816.

  MANFRED

  A Dramatic Poem

  ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

  Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

  Dramatis Personæ

  MANFRED

  CHAMOIS HUNTER

  ABBOT OF ST MAURICE

  MANUEL

  HERMAN

  WITCH OF THE ALPS

  ARIMANES

  NEMESIS

  THE DESTINIES

  SPIRITS, &C.

  The Scene of the Drama is amongst the Higher Alps — partly in the Castle of Manfred, and partly in the Mountains.

  Act I

  SCENE I

  MANFRED alone. — Scene, a Gothic Gallery. — Time, Midnight.

  MANFRED: The lamp must be replenish’d, but even then

  It will not burn so long as I must watch:

  My slumbers — if I slumber — are not sleep,

  But a continuance of enduring thought,

  5

  Which then I can resist not: in my heart

  There is a vigil, and these eyes but close

  To look within; and yet I live, and bear

  The aspect and the form of breathing men.

  (But grief should be the instructor of the wise;)

  10

  Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most

  Must mourn the deepest o’er the fatal truth,

  The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.

  Philosophy and science, and the springs

  Of wonder, and the wisdom of the world,

  15

  I have essay’d, and in my mind there is

  A power to make these subject to itself—

  But they avail not: I have done men good,

  And I have met with good even among men –

  But this avail’d not: I have had my foes,

  20

  And none have baffled, many fallen before me –

  But this avail’d not: – Good, or evil, life,

  Powers, passions, all I see in other beings,

  Have been to me as rain unto the sands,

  Since that all-nameless hour. I have no dread,

  25

  And feel the curse to have no natural fear,

  Nor fluttering throb, that beats with hopes or wishes,

  Or lurking love of something on the earth. –

  Now to my task. —

  Mysterious Agency!

  Ye spirits of the unbounded Universe!

  30

  Whom I have sought in darkness and in light –

  Ye, who do compass earth about, and dwell

  In subtler essence – ye, to whom the tops

  Of mountains inaccessible are haunts,

  And earth’s and ocean’s caves familiar things —

  35

  I call upon ye by the written charm

  Which gives me power upon you — Rise! appear!

  [A pause.]

  They come not yet. — Now by the voice of him

  Who is the first among you – by this sign,

  Which makes you tremble – by the claims of him

  40

  Who is undying, – Rise! appear! — Appear!

  [A pause.]

  If it be so. – Spirits of earth and air,

  Ye shall not thus elude me: by a power,

  Deeper than all yet urged, a tyrant-spell,

  Which had its birthplace in a star condemn’d,

  45

  The burning wreck of a demolish’d world,

  A wandering hell in the eternal space;

  By the strong curse which is upon my soul,

  The thought which is within me and around me,

  I do compel ye to my will. – Appear!

  [A star is seen at the darker end of the gallery: it is stationary; and a voice is heard singing.]

  FIRST SPIRIT

  50

  Mortal! to thy bidding bow’d,

  From my mansion in the cloud,

  Which the breath of twilight builds,

  And the summer’s sunset gilds

  With the azure and vermilion,

  55

  Which is mix’d for my pavilion;

  Though thy quest may be forbidden,

  On a star-beam I have ridden;

  To thine adjuration bow’d,

  Mortal – be thy wish avow’d!

  Voice of the SECOND SPIRIT

  60

  Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;

  They crown’d him long ago

  On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,

  With a diadem of snow.

  Around his waist are forests braced,

  65

  The Avalanche in his hand;

  But ere it fall, that thundering ball

  Must pause for my command.

  The Glacier’s cold and restless mass

  Moves onward day by day;

  70

  But I am he who bids it pass,

  Or with its ice delay.

  I am the spirit of the place,

  Could make the mountain bow

  And quiver to his cavern’d base –

  75

  And what with me wouldst Thou?

  Voice of the THIRD SPIRIT

  In the blue depth of the waters,

  Where the wave hath no strife,

  Where the wind is a stranger,

  And the sea-snake hath life,

  80

  Where the Mermaid is decking

  Her green hair with shells;

  Like the storm on the surface

  Came the sound of thy spells;

  O’er my calm Hall of Coral

  85

  The deep echo roll’d –

  To the Spirit of Ocean

  Thy wishes unfold!

  FOURTH SPIRIT

  Where the slumbering earthquake

  Lies pillow’d on fire,

  90

  And the lakes of bitumen

  Rise boilingly higher;

  Where the roots of the Andes

  Strike deep in the
earth,

  As their summits to heaven

  95

  Shoot soaringly forth;

  I have quitted my birthplace,

  Thy bidding to bide —

  Thy spell hath subdued me,

  Thy will be my guide!

  FIFTH SPIRIT

  100

  I am the Rider of the wind,

  The Stirrer of the storm;

  The hurricane I left behind

  Is yet with lightning warm;

  To speed to thee, o’er shore and sea

  105

  I swept upon the blast:

  The fleet I met sail’d well, and yet

  ’Twill sink ere night be past.

  SIXTH SPIRIT

  My dwelling is the shadow of the night,

  Why doth thy magic torture me with light?

  SEVENTH SPIRIT

  110

  The star which rules thy destiny

  Was ruled, ere earth began, by me:

  It was a world as fresh and fair

  As e’er revolved round sun in air;

  Its course was free and regular,

  115

  Space bosom’d not a lovelier star.

  The hour arrived — and it became

  A wandering mass of shapeless flame,

  A pathless comet, and a curse,

  The menace of the universe;

  120

  Still rolling on with innate force,

  Without a sphere, without a course,

  A bright deformity on high,

  The monster of the upper sky!

  And thou! beneath its influence born –

  125

  Thou worm! whom I obey and scorn –

  Forced by a power (which is not thine,

  And lent thee but to make thee mine)

  For this brief moment to descend,

  Where these weak spirits round thee bend

  130

  And parley with a thing like thee –

  What wouldst thou, Child of Clay! with me?

  The SEVEN SPIRITS

  Earth, ocean, air, night, mountains, winds, thy star,

  Are at thy beck and bidding, Child of Clay!

  Before thee at thy quest their spirits are –

  135

  What wouldst thou with us, son of mortals – say?

  MANFRED: Forgetfulness –

  FIRST SPIRIT:Of what — of whom — and why?

  MANFRED: Of that which is within me; read it there –

  Ye know it, and I cannot utter it.

  SPIRIT: We can but give thee that which we possess:

  140

  Ask of us subjects, sovereignty, the power

  O’er earth, the whole, or portion, or a sign

  Which shall control the elements, whereof

  We are the dominators, each and all,

  These shall be thine.

  MANFRED:Oblivion, self-oblivion –

  145

  Can ye not wring from out the hidden realms

  Ye offer so profusely what I ask?

  SPIRIT: It is not in our essence, in our skill;

  But — thou mayst die.

  MANFRED:Will death bestow it on me?

  SPIRIT: We are immortal, and do not forget;

 

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