the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling.
74 And when, at length, the mind shall be all free From what it hates in this degraded form,
700 Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be Existent happier in the fly and worm,? When elements to elements conform, And dust is as it should be, shall I not Feel all I see, less dazzling, but more warm?
705 The bodiless thought? the Spirit of each spot? Of which, even now, I share at times the immortal lot?
75 Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part Of me and of my soul, as I of them? Is not the love of these deep in my heart
710 With a pure passion? should I not contemn All objects, if compared with these? and stem A tide of suffering, rather than forego Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm Of those whose eyes are only turn'd below,
715 Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not glow?
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But this is not my theme; and I return To that which is immediate, and require Those who find contemplation in the urn,4 To look on One,5 whose dust was once all fire,
720 A native of the land where I respire The clear air for a while?a passing guest, Where he became a being,?whose desire Was to be glorious; 'twas a foolish quest,
The which to gain and keep, he sacrificed all rest.
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725 Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau, The apostle of affliction, he who threw Enchantment over passion, and from woe Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew The breath which made him wretched; yet he knew
730 How to make madness beautiful, and cast
canto 3, see his letter to Thomas Moore, January 5. Jean-Jacques Rousseau, who had been born in
28, 1817 (p. 736). Geneva in 1712. Byron's characterization is based
4. I.e., those who find matter for meditation in an on Rousseau's novel La Nouvelle Heloise and auto- urn containing the ashes of the dead. biographical Confessions.
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CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE, CANTO 1 / 631
O'er erring deeds and thoughts, a heavenly hue Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they past The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast.
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His love was passion's essence?as a tree
735 On fire by lightning; with ethereal flame Kindled he was, and blasted; for to be Thus, and enamoured, were in him the same. But his was not the love of living dame, Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams,
740 But of ideal beauty, which became In him existence, and o'erflowing teems Along his burning page, distempered though it seems.
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85 800so; Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing To waft me from distraction; once I loved Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. 86 8ioIt is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen, Save darken'd Jura,6 whose capt heights appear Precipitously steep; and drawing near, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear Drops the light drip of the suspended oar, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more; 87 si s820 He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes,' Starts into voice a moment, then is still. There seems a floating whisper on the hill, But that is fancy, for the starlight dews All silently their tears of love instil, Weeping themselves away, till they infuse Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues. thickets 88 825Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! If in your bright leaves we would read the fate
6. The mountain range between Switzerland and France, visible from Lake Geneva.
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63 2 / GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON . ?-?'
Of men and empires,?'tis to be forgiven, That in our aspirations to be great, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, And claim a kindred with you; for ye are
830 A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star.
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All heaven and earth are still?though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;
835 And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep:? All heaven and earth are still: From the high host Of stars, to the lull'd lake and mountain-coast, All is concentered in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,
840 But hath a part of being, and a sense Of that which is of all Creator and defence.
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