'Tis long since I beheld that eye As some lone bird, without a mate, I look around, and cannot trace And I will cross the whitening foam, I ne'er shall find a resting place. The poorest, veriest wretch on earth There's not an eye will weep for me; There's not a kind congenial heart, Where I can claim the meanest part; Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone, To think of every early scene, Of what we are, and what we've been, Would whelm some softer hearts with woe But mine, alas! has stood the blow; And never truly loves but one. And who that dear loved one may be, I've tried another's fetters too, 'Twould soothe to take one lingering view, Yet wish I not those eyes to weep 1809. [Thus corrected by himself, in his mother's copy of Mr. Hobhouse's Miscellany; the two last lines being originally – "Though wheresoe'er my bark may run, I love but thee, I love but one."] LINES TO MR. HODGSON. WRITTEN ON BOARD THE LISBON PACKET. HUZZA! Hodgson, we are going, Bend the canvas o'er the mast. Come to task all, Prying from the custom-house; Not a corner for a mouse Now our boatmen quit their mooring, And all hands must ply the oar; Baggage from the quay is lowering, We're impatient push from shore. "Have a care! that case holds liquor Stop the boat - I'm sick oh Lord!" "Sick, ma'am, damme, you 'll be sicker Now we've reach'd her, lo! the captain, Nobles twenty Did at once my vessel fill."- How you squeeze us! Would to God they did so still : Then I'd scape the heat and racket Of the good ship, Lisbon Packet." Fletcher! Murray! Bob where are you? 1 [Lord Byron's three servants.] "Zounds! my liver's coming up; I shall not survive the racket Now at length we 're off for Turkey, Lord knows when we shall come back! Breezes foul and tempests murky May unship us in a crack. As philosophers allow, Still to laugh by far the best is, Great and small things, Sick or well, at sea or shore; Let's have laughing Who the devil cares for more? Some good wine! and who would lack it, Falmouth Roads, June 30. 1809. [In the letter in which these lively verses were enclosed, Lord Byron says: "I leave England without regret I shall return to it without pleasure. I am like Adam, the first convict sentenced to transportation; but I have no Eve, and have eaten no apple but |