by Lord Byron
Who walked their world, his lineage only known?
A hater of his kind? yet some would say,
With them he could seem gay amidst the gay;
But owned that smile, if oft observed and near,
Waned in its mirth, and withered to a sneer; 300
That smile might reach his lip, but passed not by,
Nor e’er could trace its laughter to his eye:
Yet there was softness too in his regard,
At times, a heart as not by nature hard,
But once perceived, his Spirit seemed to chide
Such weakness, as unworthy of its pride,
And steeled itself, as scorning to redeem
One doubt from others’ half withheld esteem;
In self-inflicted penance of a breast
Which Tenderness might once have wrung from Rest; 310
In vigilance of Grief that would compel
The soul to hate for having loved too well.
XVIII.
There was in him a vital scorn of all:
As if the worst had fallen which could befall,
He stood a stranger in this breathing world,
An erring Spirit from another hurled;
A thing of dark imaginings, that shaped
By choice the perils he by chance escaped;
But ‘scaped in vain, for in their memory yet
His mind would half exult and half regret: 320
With more capacity for love than Earth
Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth.
His early dreams of good outstripped the truth,
And troubled Manhood followed baffled Youth;
With thought of years in phantom chase misspent,
And wasted powers for better purpose lent;
And fiery passions that had poured their wrath
In hurried desolation o’er his path,
And left the better feelings all at strife
In wild reflection o’er his stormy life; 330
But haughty still, and loth himself to blame,
He called on Nature’s self to share the shame,
And charged all faults upon the fleshly form
She gave to clog the soul, and feast the worm:
Till he at last confounded good and ill,
And half mistook for fate the acts of will:
Too high for common selfishness, he could
At times resign his own for others’ good,
But not in pity — not because he ought,
But in some strange perversity of thought, 340
That swayed him onward with a secret pride
To do what few or none would do beside;
And this same impulse would, in tempting time,
Mislead his spirit equally to crime;
So much he soared beyond, or sunk beneath,
The men with whom he felt condemned to breathe,
And longed by good or ill to separate
Himself from all who shared his mortal state;
His mind abhorring this had fixed her throne
Far from the world, in regions of her own: 350
Thus coldly passing all that passed below,
His blood in temperate seeming now would flow:
Ah! happier if it ne’er with guilt had glowed,
But ever in that icy smoothness flowed!
‘Tis true, with other men their path he walked,
And like the rest in seeming did and talked,
Nor outraged Reason’s rules by flaw nor start,
His Madness was not of the head, but heart;
And rarely wandered in his speech, or drew
His thoughts so forth as to offend the view. 360
XIX.
With all that chilling mystery of mien,
And seeming gladness to remain unseen,
He had (if ‘twere not nature’s boon) an art
Of fixing memory on another’s heart:
It was not love perchance — nor hate — nor aught
That words can image to express the thought;
But they who saw him did not see in vain,
And once beheld — would ask of him again:
And those to whom he spake remembered well,
And on the words, however light, would dwell: 370
None knew, nor how, nor why, but he entwined
Himself perforce around the hearer’s mind;
There he was stamped, in liking, or in hate,
If greeted once; however brief the date
That friendship, pity, or aversion knew,
Still there within the inmost thought he grew.
You could not penetrate his soul, but found,
Despite your wonder, to your own he wound;
His presence haunted still; and from the breast
He forced an all unwilling interest: 380
Vain was the struggle in that mental net —
His Spirit seemed to dare you to forget!
XX.
There is a festival, where knights and dames,
And aught that wealth or lofty lineage claims,
Appear — a high-born and a welcome guest
To Otho’s hall came Lara with the rest.
The long carousal shakes the illumined hall,
Well speeds alike the banquet and the ball;
And the gay dance of bounding Beauty’s train
Links grace and harmony in happiest chain: 390
Blest are the early hearts and gentle hands
That mingle there in well according bands;
It is a sight the careful brow might smooth,
And make Age smile, and dream itself to youth,
And Youth forget such hour was past on earth,
So springs the exulting bosom to that mirth!
XXI.
And Lara gazed on these, sedately glad,
His brow belied him if his soul was sad;
And his glance followed fast each fluttering fair,
Whose steps of lightness woke no echo there: 400
He leaned against the lofty pillar nigh,
With folded arms and long attentive eye,
Nor marked a glance so sternly fixed on his —
Ill brooked high Lara scrutiny like this:
At length he caught it — ‘tis a face unknown,
But seems as searching his, and his alone;
Prying and dark, a stranger’s by his mien,
Who still till now had gazed on him unseen:
At length encountering meets the mutual gaze
Of keen enquiry, and of mute amaze; 410
On Lara’s glance emotion gathering grew,
As if distrusting that the stranger threw;
Along the stranger’s aspect, fixed and stern,
Flashed more than thence the vulgar eye could learn.
XXII.
“‘Tis he!” the stranger cried, and those that heard
Re-echoed fast and far the whispered word.
“‘Tis he!” — “‘Tis who?” they question far and near,
Till louder accents rung on Lara’s ear;
So widely spread, few bosoms well could brook
The general marvel, or that single look: 420
But Lara stirred not, changed not, the surprise
That sprung at first to his arrested eyes
Seemed now subsided — neither sunk nor raised
Glanced his eye round, though still the stranger gazed;
And drawing nigh, exclaimed, with haughty sneer,
“‘Tis he! — how came he thence? — what doth he here?”
XXIII.
It were too much for Lara to pass by
Such questions, so repeated fierce and high;
With look collected, but with accent cold,
More mildly firm than petulantly bold, 430
He turned, and met the inquisitorial tone —
“My name is Lara — when thine own is known,
Doubt not my fitting answer to requite
The unlooked for courtesy of such a knight.
‘Tis Lara! — further wouldst thou mark or ask?
I shun no question, and I wear no mask.”
“Thou shunn’st no question! Ponder — is there none
Thy heart must answer, though thine ear would shun?
And deem’st thou me unknown too? Gaze again!
At least thy memory was not given in vain. 440
Oh! never canst thou cancel half her debt —
Eternity forbids thee to forget.”
With slow and searching glance upon his face
Grew Lara’s eyes, but nothing there could trace
They knew, or chose to know — with dubious look
He deigned no answer, but his head he shook,
And half contemptuous turned to pass away;
But the stern stranger motioned him to stay.
“A word! — I charge thee stay, and answer here
To one, who, wert thou noble, were thy peer, 450
But as thou wast and art — nay, frown not, Lord,
If false, ‘tis easy to disprove the word —
But as thou wast and art, on thee looks down,
Distrusts thy smiles, but shakes not at thy frown.
Art thou not he? whose deeds — — “
“Whate’er I be,
Words wild as these, accusers like to thee,
I list no further; those with whom they weigh
May hear the rest, nor venture to gainsay
The wondrous tale no doubt thy tongue can tell,
Which thus begins so courteously and well. 460
Let Otho cherish here his polished guest,
To him my thanks and thoughts shall be expressed.”
And here their wondering host hath interposed —
“Whate’er there be between you undisclosed,
This is no time nor fitting place to mar
The mirthful meeting with a wordy war.
If thou, Sir Ezzelin, hast aught to show
Which it befits Count Lara’s ear to know,
To-morrow, here, or elsewhere, as may best
Beseem your mutual judgment, speak the rest; 470
I pledge myself for thee, as not unknown,
Though, like Count Lara, now returned alone
From other lands, almost a stranger grown;
And if from Lara’s blood and gentle birth
I augur right of courage and of worth,
He will not that untainted line belie,
Nor aught that Knighthood may accord, deny.”
“To-morrow be it,” Ezzelin replied,
“And here our several worth and truth be tried;
I gage my life, my falchion to attest 480
My words, so may I mingle with the blest!”
What answers Lara? to its centre shrunk
His soul, in deep abstraction sudden sunk;
The words of many, and the eyes of all
That there were gathered, seemed on him to fall;
But his were silent, his appeared to stray
In far forgetfulness away — away —
Alas! that heedlessness of all around
Bespoke remembrance only too profound.
XXIV.
“To-morrow! — aye, to-morrow!” further word 490
Than those repeated none from Lara heard;
Upon his brow no outward passion spoke;
From his large eye no flashing anger broke;
Yet there was something fixed in that low tone,
Which showed resolve, determined, though unknown.
He seized his cloak — his head he slightly bowed,
And passing Ezzelin, he left the crowd;
And, as he passed him, smiling met the frown
With which that Chieftain’s brow would bear him down:
It was nor smile of mirth, nor struggling pride 500
That curbs to scorn the wrath it cannot hide;
But that of one in his own heart secure
Of all that he would do, or could endure.
Could this mean peace? the calmness of the good?
Or guilt grown old in desperate hardihood?
Alas! too like in confidence are each,
For man to trust to mortal look or speech;
From deeds, and deeds alone, may he discern
Truths which it wrings the unpractised heart to learn.
XXV.
And Lara called his page, and went his way — 510
Well could that stripling word or sign obey:
His only follower from those climes afar,
Where the Soul glows beneath a brighter star:
For Lara left the shore from whence he sprung,
In duty patient, and sedate though young;
Silent as him he served, his faith appears
Above his station, and beyond his years.
Though not unknown the tongue of Lara’s land,
In such from him he rarely heard command;
But fleet his step, and clear his tones would come, 520
When Lara’s lip breathed forth the words of home:
Those accents, as his native mountains dear,
Awake their absent echoes in his ear,
Friends’ — kindred’s — parents’ — wonted voice recall,
Now lost, abjured, for one — his friend, his all:
For him earth now disclosed no other guide;
What marvel then he rarely left his side?
XXVI.
Light was his form, and darkly delicate
That brow whereon his native sun had sate,
But had not marred, though in his beams he grew, 530
The cheek where oft the unbidden blush shone through;
Yet not such blush as mounts when health would show
All the heart’s hue in that delighted glow;
But ‘twas a hectic tint of secret care
That for a burning moment fevered there;
And the wild sparkle of his eye seemed caught
From high, and lightened with electric thought,
Though its black orb those long low lashes’ fringe
Had tempered with a melancholy tinge;
Yet less of sorrow than of pride was there, 540
Or, if ‘twere grief, a grief that none should share:
And pleased not him the sports that please his age,
The tricks of Youth, the frolics of the Page;
For hours on Lara he would fix his glance,
As all-forgotten in that watchful trance;
And from his chief withdrawn, he wandered lone,
Brief were his answers, and his questions none;
His walk the wood, his sport some foreign book;
His resting-place the bank that curbs the brook:
He seemed, like him he served, to live apart 550
From all that lures the eye, and fills the heart;
To know no brotherhood, and take from earth
No gift beyond that bitter boon — our birth.
XXVII.
If aught he loved, ‘twas Lara; but was shown
His faith in reverence and in deeds alone;
In mute attention; and his care, which guessed
Each wish, fulfilled it ere the tongue expressed.
Still there was haughtiness in all he did,
A spirit deep that brooked not to be chid;
His zeal, though more than that of servile hands, 560
In act alone obeys, his air commands;
As if ‘twas Lara’s less than his desire
That thus he served, but surely not for hire.
Slight were the tasks enjoined him by his Lord,
To hold the stirrup, or to bear the sword;
To tune his lu
te, or, if he willed it more,
On tomes of other times and tongues to pore;
But ne’er to mingle with the menial train,
To whom he showed nor deference nor disdain,
But that well-worn reserve which proved he knew 570
No sympathy with that familiar crew:
His soul, whate’er his station or his stem,
Could bow to Lara, not descend to them.
Of higher birth he seemed, and better days,
Nor mark of vulgar toil that hand betrays,
So femininely white it might bespeak
Another sex, when matched with that smooth cheek,
But for his garb, and something in his gaze,
More wild and high than Woman’s eye betrays;
A latent fierceness that far more became 580
His fiery climate than his tender frame:
True, in his words it broke not from his breast,
But from his aspect might be more than guessed.
Kaled his name, though rumour said he bore
Another ere he left his mountain-shore;
For sometimes he would hear, however nigh,
That name repeated loud without reply,
As unfamiliar — or, if roused again,
Start to the sound, as but remembered then;
Unless ‘twas Lara’s wonted voice that spake, 590
For then — ear — eyes — and heart would all awake.
XXVIII.
He had looked down upon the festive hall,
And mark’d that sudden strife so marked of all:
And when the crowd around and near him told
Their wonder at the calmness of the bold,
Their marvel how the high-born Lara bore
Such insult from a stranger, doubly sore,
The colour of young Kaled went and came,
The lip of ashes, and the cheek of flame;
And o’er his brow the dampening heart-drops threw 600
The sickening iciness of that cold dew,
That rises as the busy bosom sinks
With heavy thoughts from which Reflection shrinks.
Yes — there be things which we must dream and dare,
And execute ere thought be half aware:
Whate’er might Kaled’s be, it was enow
To seal his lip, but agonise his brow.
He gazed on Ezzelin till Lara cast
That sidelong smile upon the knight he past;
When Kaled saw that smile his visage fell, 610
As if on something recognised right well:
His memory read in such a meaning more
Than Lara’s aspect unto others wore:
Forward he sprung — a moment, both were gone,
And all within that hall seemed left alone;
Each had so fixed his eye on Lara’s mien,
All had so mixed their feelings with that scene,