IX. And none did love him-though to hall and bower He knew them flatt'rers of the festal hour; Yea! none did love him-not his lemans dear— X. Childe Harold had a mother-not forgot, 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 parting 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; His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine, 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, 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 tuned his farewell in the dim twilight. 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 sea-mew. Yon sun that sets upon the sea We follow in his flight; Farewell awhile to him and thee, B* 2 "A few short hours and he will rise Its hearth is desolate; While 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 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, But thee-and one above. 5 'My father bless'd me fervently, 6 "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 Sir Childe, I'm not so weak; But thinking on an absent wife Will blanch a faithful cheek. life? 7 'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake, And when they on their father call, Thy grief let none gainsay; "For, who would trust the seeming sighs Of wife or paramour? Fresh feres 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 10 "With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go Athwart the foaming brine; Nor care what land thou bear'st me to, So not again to mine. Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves! And when you fail my sight, Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves! My native Land-Good Night!" |