IX. And none did love him-though to hall and bower He gather'd revellers from far and near, He knew them flatterers of the festal hour; The heartless parasites of present cheer. Yea! none did love him-not his lemans dearBut pomp and power alone are woman's care, And where these are light Eros finds a feere; Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare, And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair. X. Childe Harold had a mother-not forgot, Though parting from that mother he did shun; A sister whom he loved, but saw her not If friends he had, he bade adieu to none. Yet deem not thence his breast a breast of steel; A few dear objects, will in sadness feel Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal. XI. His house, his home, his heritage, his lands, The laughing dames in whom he did delight, Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands, Might shake the saintship of an anchorite, And long had fed his youthful appetite; And all that mote to luxury invite, Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine, And traverse Paynim shores, and pass earth's central line. XII. The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew, As glad to waft him from his native home; The silent thought, nor from his lips did come XIII. But when the sun was sinking in the sea He seized his harp, which he at times could string, And strike, albeit with untaught melody, When deem'd he no strange ear was listening: And now his fingers o'er it he did fling, And fleeting shores receded from his sight, 1 "ADIEU, adieu! my native shore Fades o'er the waters blue; The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar, And shrieks the wild seamew. Yon Sun that sets upon the sea 2 "A few short hours and He will rise To give the Morrow birth; Its hearth is desolate ; Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate. 3 "Come hither, hither, my little page! But dash the tear-drop from thine eye; Our ship is swift and strong: Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly More merrily along." 4 'Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high, I fear not wave nor wind; Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I Am sorrowful in mind; For I have from my father gone, A mother whom I love, And have no friend, save these alone, "Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman, Why dost thou look so pale? Or dost thou dread a French foeman, Or shiver at the gale?"'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life? Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; But thinking on an absent wife Will blanch a faithful cheek. 7 My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake, And when they on their father call, What answer shall she make?'- Thy grief let none gainsay; But I, who am of lighter mood, 8 "For who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour? Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes We late saw streaming o'er. For pleasures past I do not grieve, Nor perils gathering near; My greatest grief is that I leave No thing that claims a tear. 9 "And now I'm in the world alone, But why should I for others groan, But long ere I come back again, He'd tear me where he stands. 10 "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves! Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves! |