But, wandering on through distant climes, He learnt to bear his load ofgrief; Just gave a sigh to other times, And found in busier scenes relief, Thus, lady! will it be with me, And I must view thy charms no more; For, while I linger near to thee, I sigh for all I knew before. In flight I shall be surely wise, Escaping from temptation's snare; I cannot view my paradise Without the wish of dwelling there. REMIND ME NOT, REMIND ME NOT. Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours, Can I forget-canst thou forget, How quick thy fluttering heart did move Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet, With eyes so languid, breast so fair, And lips, though silent, breathing love. When thus reclining on my breast, Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet, And then those pensive eyes would close, I dreamt last night our love return'd, Than if for other hearts I burn'd, For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam Then tell me not, remind me not, And from that hour, when first thy tongue None, none hath sunk so deep as this- But transient in thy breast alone. And yet my heart some solace knew, Yes! my adored, but most unkind! Yes! 'tis a glorious thought to me, Nor longer shall my soul repine, Whate'er thou art, or e'er shalt be, Thou hast been dearly, solely mine. AND WILT THOU WEEP WHEN I AM AND wilt thou weep when I am low? I would not give that bosom pain. My heart is sad, my hopes are gone, Wilt sigh above my place of rest. And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace Doth through my cloud of anguish shine; And for a while my sorrows cease, To know thy heart hath felt for mine O lady blessed be that tear It falls for one who cannot weep; Such precious drops are doubly dear To those whose eyes no tear may steep. Sweet lady! once my heart was warm Yet wilt thou weep when I am low? THERE WAS A TIME, I NEED NOT NAME. THERE was a time, I need not name, FILL THE GOBLET AGAIN, FILL the goblet again! for I never before core ; Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow, We are jealous who's not ?-thou hast no such alloy; For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy. Then the season of youth and its vanities past, There we find-do we not ?-in the flow of the soul, When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth, Long life to the grape! for when summer has flown, And Hebe shall never be idle in heaven, STANZAS TO A LADY, ON LEAVING ENGLAND.* 'TIS done-and shivering in the gale But could I be what I have been, * Mrs. Musters, formerly Mary Chaworth. 'Tis long since I beheld that eye I look around, and cannot trace And I will cross the whitening foam, 1807 I ne'er shall find a resting-place; The poorest, veriest wretch on carth I go-but wheresoe'er I flee To think of every early scene, Of what we are, and what we've been, And who that dear loved one may be, Is not for vulgar eyes to see; And why that early love was crost, Thou know'st the best, I feel the most: But few that dwell beneath the sun Have loved so long, and loved but one. I've tried another's fetters too, With charms perchance as fair to view; And I would fain have loved as well, But some unconquerable spell Forbade my bleeding breast to own A kindred care for aught but one. 'Twould soothe to take one lingering view, And bless thee in my last adieu; Yet wish I not those eyes to weep For him that wanders o'er the deep; His home, his hope, his youth are gone, TO FLORENCE. OH Lady! when I left the shore, The distant shore which gave me birth. I hardly thought to grieve once more, To quit another spot on earth: Yet here, amidst this barren isle, Where panting Nature droops the head, Where only thou art seen to smile, I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craggy shore, But wheresoe'er I now may roam, I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee: On thee, in whom at once conspire All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire, And, oh! forgive the word-to love. Forgive the word, in one who ne'er With such a word can more offend; And since thy heart I cannot share, Believe me, what I am, thy friend. And who so cold as look on thee, Thou lovely wanderer, and be less? Nor be, what man should ever be, The friend of Beauty in distress? Ah! who would think that form had past Lady! when I shall view the walls The Turkish tyrants now enclose; And though I bid thee now farewell, LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM, AT As o'er the cold sepulchral stone And when by thee that name is read, Perchance in some succeeding year, Reflect on me as on the dead, And think my heart is buried here. STANZAS COMPOSED DURING A THUNDER-STORM, AND WHILE BEWILDERED NEAR MOUNT PINDUS IN ALBANIA. CHILL and mirk is the nightly blast, Where Pindus' mountains rise, And angry clouds are pouring fast The vengeance of the skies. Our guides are gone, our hope is lost, But show where rocks our path have crost, Is yon a cot I saw, though low? When lightning broke the gloom→ How welcome were its shade !-ah, no! 'Tis but a Turkish tomb. Through sounds of foaming waterfalls, My way-worn countryman, who calls A shot is fired-by foe or friend? The mountain-peasants to descend, Oh! who in such a night will dare To tempt the wilderness? And who 'mid thunder-peals can hear Our signal of distress? And who that heard our shouts would rise To try the dubious road? Nor rather deem from nightly cries That outlaws were abroad? Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour! More fiercely pours the storm! Yet here one thought has still the power While wandering through each broken path, While elements exhaust their wrath, Not on the sea, not on the sea, Thy bark hath long been gone: Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc, Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now And since I now remember thee In darkness and in dread, As in those hours of revelry Which mirth and music sped; Do thou, amid the fair white walls, If Cadiz yet be free, Each lucid interval of thought At times, from out her latticed halls, Look o'er the dark blue sea; Recalls the woes of Nature's charter; And he that acts as wise men ought, But lives, as saints have died, a martyr. Then think upon Calypso's isles, And when the admiring circle mark The paleness of thy face, A half-form'd tear, a transient spark Of melancholy grace, Again thou'lt smile, and blushing shun Some coxcomb's raillery; Nor own for once thou thought'st on one Who ever thinks on thee. Though smile and sigh alike are vain, STANZAS WRITTEN IN PASSING THE AMBRACIAN GULF. THROUGH cloudless skies, in silvery sheen, And now upon the scene I look, The azure grave of many a Roman; Where stern Ambition once forsook His wavering crown to follow woman. Florence! whom I will love as well Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times, When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes: Had bards as many realms as rhymes, Thy charms might raise new Antonies. Though Fate forbids such things to be, Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curl'd! I cannot lose a world for thee, But would not lose thee for a world. THE SPELL IS BROKE, THE CHARM IS THE spell is broke, the charm is flown! * Mrs. Spencer Smith, WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS.* IF, in the month of dark December, (What maid will not the tale remember ?) If, when the wintry tempest roar'd, And think I've done a feat to-day. To woo,-and-Lord knows what beside, 'Twere hard to say who fared the best; For he was drown'd, and I've the ague. LINES WRITTEN IN THE TRAVELLERS' BOOK AT ORCHOMENUS. IN THIS BOOK A TRAVELLER HAD WRITTEN: 'FAIR Albion, smiling, sees her son depart To trace the birth and nursery of art: * On the 3rd of May 1810, while the Salsette, (Captain Bathurst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead of that frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the European shore to the Asiatic-by the by, from Abydos to Sestos would have been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, including the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those on board the frigate at upwards of four English miles, though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row directly across; and it may, in some measure, be estimated from the circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour and five, and by the other in an hour and ten minutes. The water was extremely cold, from the melting of the mountain snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had made an attempt; but having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below the castles, when we swam the straits, as just stated; entering a considerable way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic fort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same distance for his mistress, and Oliver mentions its having been done by a Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished Noble his object, glorious is his aim ; He comes to Athens, and he writes his name." BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THE FOLLOWING: THE modest bard, like many a bard unknown, Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own; But yet, whoe'er he be, to say no worse, His name would bring more credit than his verse. MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART. MAID of Athens, ere we part, By those tresses unconfined, Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge; By that lip I long to taste; What words can never speak so well; Maid of Athens! I am gone: LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE. DEAR object of defeated care! Though now of love and thee bereft, Thine image and my tears are left. a greater distance; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability. ⚫ Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it, I shall affront the gentlemen, as it may seem that I suppose they could not; and if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter, I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means, My life, I love you!' which Sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day, as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenized. Sons of Greeks! let us go In arms against the foe, Then manfully despising Let your country see you rising, Oh, start again to life! At the sound of my trumpet, breaking And the seven hill'd city seeking,t Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers Lethargic dost thou lie? Awake, and join thy numbers With Athens, old ally! Leonidas recalling, That chief of ancient song, Who saved thee once from falling, The terrible! the strong! In old Thermopyla, Expired in seas of blood. Sons of Greeks, etc. TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG. I ENTER thy garden of roses, In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations), flowers, cinders, pebbles, etc., convey the sentiments of the parties, by The song was written by Riga, who perished in that universal deputy of Mercury-an old woman. Á the attempt to revolutionize Greece. This translation cinder says, 'I burn for thee;' a bunch of flowers tied is as literal as the author could make it in verse. It is with hair, Take me and fly; but a pebble declares- of the same measure as that of the original. what nothing else can. 1 Constantinople. + Constantinople. The song from which this is taken is a great |