III.

If my inheritance of storms hath been
In other elements, and on the rocks
Of perils, overlooked or unforeseen,

I have sustained my share of worldly shocks,
The fault was mine; nor do I seek to screen
My errors with defensive paradox;

i.

I have been cunning in mine overthrow, The careful pilot of my proper woe.

IV.

Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward.
My whole life was a contest, since the day
That gave me being, gave me that which marred
The gift,—a fate, or will, that walked astray;1
And I at times have found the struggle hard,
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;
And when I look on this, the petty spray
Of my own years of trouble, which have rolled
Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away:
Something I know not what-does still uphold

i. I am not yet o'erwhelmed that I shall ever lean

A thought upon such Hope as daily mocks.—[MS. erased.] without a tempest. He was known to the sailors by the facetious name of 'Foul-weather Jack' [or Hardy Byron'].

444 But, though it were tempest-toss'd,

Still his bark could not be lost.'

He returned safely from the wreck of the Wager (in Anson's voyage), and many years after circumnavigated the world, as commander of a similar expedition" (Moore). Admiral the Hon. John Byron (1723–1786), next brother to William, fifth Lord Byron, published his Narrative of his shipwreck in the Wager in 1768, and his Voyage round the World in the Dolphin, in 1767 (Letters, 1898, i. 3).]

1. [For Byron's belief in predestination, compare Childe Harold, Canto I, stanza lxxxiii. line 9, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 74, note 1.]

A spirit of slight patience ;-not in vain, 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,
(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

iii.

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; And even at moments I could think I see Some living thing to love-but none like thee.v.

VIII.

Here are the Alpine landscapes which create
A fund for contemplation ;-to admire
Is a brief feeling of a trivial date;

But something worthier do such scenes inspire:
Here to be lonely is not desolate,1

For much I view which I could most desire,

i. For to all such may change of soul refer.—[MS.]

ii. Have hardened me to this-but I can see

iii.

Things which I still can love-but none like thee.

[MS. erased.] Before I had to study far more useless books.-[MS. erased.] Ere my young mind was fettered down to books.

iv. Some living things ·

1. [Compare

--[MS.]

"Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt

In solitude, when we are least alone."

Childe Harold, Canto III. stanza xc. lines 1, 2,

Poetical Works, 1899, ü. 272.]

And, above all, a Lake I can behold Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old.1

IX.

grow

Oh that thou wert but with me !—but I
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 ;-
I am not of the plaintive mood, and yet
I feel an ebb in my philosophy,

And the tide rising in my altered eye.'

X.

I did remind thee of our own dear Lake, By the old Hall which may be mine no more. 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 Resigned 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,
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;

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

i. And think of such things with a childish eye.—[MS.]

1. [For a description of the lake at Newstead, see Don Juan, Canto XIII. stanza Ivii.]

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;

The Passions which have torn me would have slept ; I had not suffered, 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,
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.

IL

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
Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share

i. The earliest were the only paths for me.

The earliest were the paths and meant for me.—[MS. erased.]

ii. Yet could I but expunge from out the book

Of my existence all that was entwined.—[MS. erased.]

iii. My life has been too long—if in a day

I have survived ·

1. [Compare

[MS. erased.]

"He who first met the Highland's swelling blue,
Will love each peak, that shows a kindred hue,

Hail in each crag a friend's familiar face,
And clasp the mountain in his mind's embrace."

The Island, Canto II. stanza xii. lines 9-12. His "friends are mountains." He comes back to them as to a "holier land," where he may find not happiness, but peace.

Moore was inclined to attribute Byron's "love of mountain prospects" in his childhood to the "after-result of his imaginative recollections of that period," but (as Wilson, commenting on Moore, suggests) it is easier to believe that the "high instincts" of the "poetic child" did not wait for association to consecrate the vision (Life, p. 8).]

Of life which might have filled a century,1 Before its fourth in time had passed me by.

XV.

And for the remnant which may be to come1
I am content; and for the past I feel
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,
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;
It is the same, together or apart,

il.

From Life's commencement to its slow decline We are entwined-let Death come slow or fast,i. The tie which bound the first endures the last!

[First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, ii. 38-41.]

i. And for the remnants —.—[MS.]

ii. Whate'er betide —.—[MS.]

iii. We have been and we shall be [MS. erased.]

1. [Byron often insists on this compression of life into a yet briefer span than even mortality allows.

Compare

"He, who grown agèd in this world of woe,

In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life," etc.
Childe Harold, Canto III. stanza v. lines 1, 2,
Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 218, note 1.

Compare, too—

"My life is not dated by years—

There are moments which act as a plough," etc.
Lines to the Countess of Blessington, stanza 4.]