312

BYRON’S WORKS.

XXXVI.

There suuk the greatest, nor the worst of men,Whose spirit antithetically mix’dOne moment of the mightiest, and againOn. little objects with like flrmnesB fix’d,

Extreme in all things! badst thou been betwixt,Thy throne had still been thine, or never been;For daring made thy rise as fall: thou seek’stEven now to re-assume the imperial mien.

And shake again the world, the ThtfBderer of thescene!

xxxvil.

Conqueror and captive of the earth art thou!

She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name, "Was ne'er more bruited in men’s minds thannow

That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame,Who woo’d thee once, thy vassal, and becameThe flatterer of thy fierceness, till thou wertA god unto thyseif; nor less the sameTo the astounded kingdoms all inert,

Who deem’d thee for a time whatever thou didstassert.

XXXVIII.

Oh! more or less than man—in high or low,Battling with nations, flying from the field;

Now making monarchs necks thy footstool,now

More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield:An empire thou couldst crush, command, re-build,

But govern not thy pettiest passion, norHowever deeply in men’s spirits skill’d.

Look through thine own, nor curb the lust ofwar.

Nor learn that tempted Fato will leave the loftieststar.

XXXIX.

Yet well thy soul hath brook’d the turning tideWith that untaught innate philosophy,

Which, be it wisdom, coldness, or deep pride,

Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.

When the whole host of hatred stood hard by.

To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hastsmiled

With a sedate and all-enduring eye;—

When Fortune fled her spoil’d and favouritechild,

He stood unbow’d beneath the ills upon him plied.XL.

Saga* than in thy fortunes; for in theinAmbition steel’d thee on too far to showThat just habitual scorn, which could contemnMen and their thoughts; 'twas wise to feel, notso

To wear it ever on thy lip and brow.

And spurn the instruments thou wert to useTill they were turn’d unto thine overthrow;

'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose;

So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot whochoose.

XLL

If, like a tower upon a headlong rock.

Thou badst been made to stand or fall alone.Such scorn of man had help’d to bravo tkoshock; ,

But men’s thoughts were the steps which paT^athy throne,

Their admiration thy best weapon shone;

The part of PhiUip's son was thine, not then(Unless aside thy purple had been thrown)

Like stern Diogenes to mock at men;

For sceptred cynics earth were far too wide *den.*

XLIL

But quiet to quick bosoms is a hell,

And there hath been thy bane; there is a fireAnd motion of the soul which will not dwellIn its own narrow being, but aspireBeyond the fitting medium of desire;

And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,Preys upon high adventure, nor can tireOf aught but rest; a fever at the core.

Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.

XLIII.

This makes the madmen who have mademad

By our contagion! Conquerors and Kings.Founders of sects and systems, to whom addSophists, Bards , Statesmen, all unquiet things"Which stir too strongly the soul’s secret spring 5 ’And are themselves the fools to those they fool iEnvied,yet how unenviable! what stingsAre theirs 1 One breast laid open were a schoolWhich would unteach mankind the lust to shine o*rule.

XLIV.

Their breath is agitation, and their lifeA storm whereon they ride, to sink at last,

And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife,

; That should their days, surviving perils past,Melt to calm twilight, they feel overoastWith sorrow and supineness, and so die;

Even as a flame, unfed, which runs to wasteWith its own flickering, or a sword laid by,Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.

XLV.

He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall, find ,The loftiest peaks most wrapt in cloudssnow;

He who surpasses or subdues mankind,

Must look down on the hate of those below.Though high above the sun of glory glow,

And far beneath the earth and ocean spread,Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blowContending tempests on his naked head, . , g

And thus reward the toils which to those sum® 1 *led.

* The great “error of Napoleon , “if we have writ our annals true,” was a continued obtrusion ojmankind of his want of all community of feeling for or with them : perhaps more offensive to hu®*vanity than the active cruelty of more trembling and suspicious tyranny. Such were his speechespublic assemblies as well as,individuals; and the single expression which he is said to have osedoreturning to Paris after the Russian winter had destroyed his army, rubbing his hands over a. fire, “ ’Ip ‘is pleasanter than Moscow, ” would probably alienate more favour from his causo than the destruensand reverses which led to the remark.