Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not formed to live alone:
I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
Man was not formed to live alone:
I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
Byron
since dust thou art;
And all that once was Harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart!
3.
'Tis silent all! --but on my ear[ah]
The well remembered Echoes thrill;
I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still:
Yet oft my doubting Soul 'twill shake;
Ev'n Slumber owns its gentle tone,
Till Consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.
4.
Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream;
A Star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turned from earth its tender beam.
But he who through Life's dreary way
Must pass, when Heaven is veiled in wrath,
Will long lament the vanished ray
That scattered gladness o'er his path.
_December_ 8, 1811.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to). ]
ONE STRUGGLE MORE, AND I AM FREE. [ai]
1.
One struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain;[aj]
One last long sigh to Love and thee,
Then back to busy life again.
It suits me well to mingle now
With things that never pleased before:[ak]
Though every joy is fled below,
What future grief can touch me more? [al]
2.
Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not formed to live alone:
I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
It was not thus in days more dear,
It never would have been, but thou[am]
Hast fled, and left me lonely here;
Thou'rt nothing,--all are nothing now.
3.
In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that Sorrow fain would wear
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Though gay companions o'er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
Though Pleasure fires the maddening soul,
The Heart,--the Heart is lonely still!
4.
On many a lone and lovely night
It soothed to gaze upon the sky;
For then I deemed the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye:
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the AEgean wave,
"Now Thyrza gazes on that moon"--
Alas, it gleamed upon her grave!
5.
When stretched on Fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins,
"'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,[an]
"That Thyrza cannot know my pains:"
Like freedom to the time-worn slave--[ao]
A boon 'tis idle then to give--
Relenting Nature vainly gave[32]
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!
6.
My Thyrza's pledge in better days,[ap]
When Love and Life alike were new!
How different now thou meet'st my gaze!
How tinged by time with Sorrow's hue!
The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent--ah, were mine as still!
Though cold as e'en the dead can be,
It feels, it sickens with the chill.
And all that once was Harmony
Is worse than discord to my heart!
3.
'Tis silent all! --but on my ear[ah]
The well remembered Echoes thrill;
I hear a voice I would not hear,
A voice that now might well be still:
Yet oft my doubting Soul 'twill shake;
Ev'n Slumber owns its gentle tone,
Till Consciousness will vainly wake
To listen, though the dream be flown.
4.
Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,
Thou art but now a lovely dream;
A Star that trembled o'er the deep,
Then turned from earth its tender beam.
But he who through Life's dreary way
Must pass, when Heaven is veiled in wrath,
Will long lament the vanished ray
That scattered gladness o'er his path.
_December_ 8, 1811.
[First published, _Childe Harold_, 1812 (4to). ]
ONE STRUGGLE MORE, AND I AM FREE. [ai]
1.
One struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain;[aj]
One last long sigh to Love and thee,
Then back to busy life again.
It suits me well to mingle now
With things that never pleased before:[ak]
Though every joy is fled below,
What future grief can touch me more? [al]
2.
Then bring me wine, the banquet bring;
Man was not formed to live alone:
I'll be that light unmeaning thing
That smiles with all, and weeps with none.
It was not thus in days more dear,
It never would have been, but thou[am]
Hast fled, and left me lonely here;
Thou'rt nothing,--all are nothing now.
3.
In vain my lyre would lightly breathe!
The smile that Sorrow fain would wear
But mocks the woe that lurks beneath,
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Though gay companions o'er the bowl
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
Though Pleasure fires the maddening soul,
The Heart,--the Heart is lonely still!
4.
On many a lone and lovely night
It soothed to gaze upon the sky;
For then I deemed the heavenly light
Shone sweetly on thy pensive eye:
And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,
When sailing o'er the AEgean wave,
"Now Thyrza gazes on that moon"--
Alas, it gleamed upon her grave!
5.
When stretched on Fever's sleepless bed,
And sickness shrunk my throbbing veins,
"'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,[an]
"That Thyrza cannot know my pains:"
Like freedom to the time-worn slave--[ao]
A boon 'tis idle then to give--
Relenting Nature vainly gave[32]
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!
6.
My Thyrza's pledge in better days,[ap]
When Love and Life alike were new!
How different now thou meet'st my gaze!
How tinged by time with Sorrow's hue!
The heart that gave itself with thee
Is silent--ah, were mine as still!
Though cold as e'en the dead can be,
It feels, it sickens with the chill.
