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Yet oft my doubting Soul 'twill shake;
Ev'n Slumber owns its gentle tone,
To listen, though the dream be flown.
Thou art but now a lovely dream;
Then turned from earth its tender beam.
Must pass, when Heaven is veiled in wrath,
December 8, 1811. (First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]
ONE STRUGGLE MORE, AND I AM FREE."
ONE struggle more, and I am free
From pangs that rend my heart in twain;
Then back to busy life again.
With things that never pleased before : ti.
What future grief can touch me more ? iv.
i. To Thyrza.---[Editions 1812-1831.]
Such pangs that tear --- -[MS. erased.)
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 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
Like roses o'er a sepulchre.
Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
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 Ægean 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,
i. It woulii not be, so had'st not thou
Withdrawn so soon -:-(MS. erased.]
« 'Tis comfort still," I faintly said,
“ That Thyrza cannot know my pains :" Like freedom to the time-worn slave_ii
. A boon 'tis idle then to giveRelenting Nature vainly gavel
My life, when Thyrza ceased to live!
My Thyrza's pledge in better days, il
When Love and Life alike were new !
How tinged by time with Sorrow's hue !
Is silent-ah, were mine as still !
It feels, it sickens with the chill.
Though painful, welcome to my breast !
Or break the heart to which thou'rt pressed.
More hallowed when its Hope is filed :
(First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]
i. how oft I said.-[MS. erased.]
A boon 'twas idle then to give, Relenting Health in mocking gave.—(MS. B. M. erased.] iii. Dear simple gift -:- (MS. erased.] 1. (Compare My Epitaph : “Youth, Nature and relenting Jove." -Lelier to Hodgson, Ociober 3, 1810, Letters, 1898, i. 298. ]
The dreamless sleep that lulls the dead,
Wave gently o'er my dying bed !
No band of friends or heirs be there,
To weep, or wish, the coming blow:
To feel, or feign, decorous woe.
With no officious mourners near:
Nor startle Friendship with a fear.
Could nobly check its useless sighs,
In her who lives, and him who dies.
Thy features still serene to see:
1. (Compare A Wish, by Matthew Arnold, stanza 3, etc. -
"Spare me the whispering, crowded room,
Forgetful of its struggles past,
E'en Pain itself should smile on thee.
But vain the wish--for Beauty still
Will shrink, as shrinks the ebbing breath; And Woman's tears, produced at will,
Deceive in life, unman in death.
7. Then lonely be my latest hour, Without regret,
without a groan; For thousands Death hath ceased to lower,
And pain been transient or unknown.
“ Aye but to die, and go," alas !
Where all have gone, and all must go ! To be the nothing that I was
Ere born to life and living woe!
9. Count o'er the joys thine hours have seen,
Count o'er thy days from anguish free, And know, whatever thou hast been,
'Tis something better not to be.
[First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (Second Edition).]