BYRON’S WORKS.
100
And Mora’s eye could Allan mote,
She bade his wounded pride rebel;
Alas 1 that eyes which beam’d with loveShould urge the soul to deeds of hell.
Lo! seest thou not a lonely tombWhich rises o’er a warrior dead ?
It glimmers through the twilight gloom:
Oh ! that is Allan’s nuptial bed.
Far, distant far, the noble graveWhich held his clan’s great ashes stood;
And o’er his corse no banners wave,
For they were stain’d with kindred blood.
What minstrel gray, what hoary bard,
Shall Allan’s deeds on harpr-strings raise ?
The song iB glory’s chief reward,
But who can strike a murderer’s praise?
Unstrung, untouch’d, the harp must stand,
No minstrel dare the theme awake;
Guilt would benumb his palsied hand,
His harp in shuddering chords would break.
No lyre of fame, no hallow’d verse,
Shall sound his glories high in air;
A dying father’s bitter curse,
A brother’s death-groan echoes there.
LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY,
WHO HAD BEEN ALARMED BY A BULLET FIRED BY
THE AUTHOR WHILE DISCHARGING HIS PISTOLS
IN A GARDEN.
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o’er thy charms,
And hurtling o’er thy lovely head,*
Has iill’d that breast with fond alarms.
Surely some envious demon’s force,
Vex’d to behold such beauty here,
Impell’d the bullet’s viewless course,.
Diverted from its first career.
Yes! in that nearly fatal hourThe ball'obey’d some hell-born guide;
But Heaven, with interposing power,
In pity turn’d the death aside.
Yet, as perchance one trembling tearUpon that thrilling bosom fell;
Which I, th’ unconscious cause of fear,
Extracted from its glistening cell:
Say, what dire penance can atoneFor such an outrage done to thee ?
Arraign’d before thy beauty’s throue,
What punishment wilt thou decree ?
Might I perform the judge’s part,
The sentence I should scarce deplore;
It only would restore a heartWhich but belong’d to thee before.
The least atonement I can makeIs to become no longer free;
Henceforth I breathe but for thy sake,
Thou shalt be all in all to me.
But thou, perhaps, mayst now rejectSuch expiation of my guilt:
Come, then, some other mode elect;
Let it be death, or what thou wilt.
Choose then, relentless! and I swearNought shall thy dread decree prevent;Yet hold—one little word forbear!
Let it be aught but banishment.
LOVE'S LAST ADIEU.
’Ael, S’ aet y.e <f> cuyet—ANACREON.
The roses of love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilentdew,
Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in love’s last adieu !
In vain with endearments we soothe the sad heart,In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,Or death disunite us in love’s last adieu!
Still Hope, breaching peace through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, “ Our meeting we yet mayrenew
With this dream of deceit half our sorrow's re-press’d,
Nor taste we the poison of love's last adieu!
Oh ! mark you yon pair: in the sunshine of youth Love twined round their childhood his flowersas they grew;
They flourish awhile in the season of truth.
Till chill’d by the winter of love’s last adieu!Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way .Down a cheek which outrivals thy* bosom inhue?
Yet why do I ask?—to distraction a prey,Thyreason has perish’d with love’s last adieu!
Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning mankind ?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew :
These, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;The mountains reverberate love’s last adieu!
Now hate rules a heart which in love's easy chainsOnce passion’s tumultuous blandishments knew,Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins;
He ponders in frenzy on love’s last adieu!
How he envies the wretch with a soul wrapt insteel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles arefew,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,And dreads not the anguish of love's last adieu.’
Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;
No more with love’s former devotion we sue:
He spreads his young wing, he retires with theblast;
The shroud of affection is love’s last adieu!
In this life of probation for rapture divine,
Astrea declares that some penance is due;
From him who has worshipp’d at love’s gentleshrine,
The atonement is ample in love’s last adieu I
* This word is used by Gray, in his poem to the Fatal Sisters•“ Iron sleet of arrowy showerHurtles through thfijiarken’d air.”