My songs were full of joy,—

You might have let them flow; My heart was every woman's toy,— You might have left it so!

VI.

But now to send me back

To faded hopes and fears,
To bid me seek again the track
My foot has left for years;
To cancel what must be,
To alter what has been,-
Ah! this indeed is mockery
Fit for a Fairy Queen!

VII.

The lip that was so gay

More dark and still hath grown;

The listless lute of yesterday

Hath learned a sadder tone;

And uttered is the thought,

And written is the vow ;

You might have left this charm unwroughtYou must not rend it now!

VIII.

When first upon my lance

I saw the fair sun shine,
I courted not that fairer glance,—
And yet it turned to mine;

When music's rich delight

From lips so lovely came,

I looked not on those lips that night,-And yet they breathed my name!

IX.

When our last words were broken
By passion's bitter tears,
I asked not the recording token
Which I must love for years;
And when between us lay

Long tracks of sand and sea,
The carrier-pigeon went his way
Unbegged, unbought, by me.

X.

Farewell!-when I was bound
In every Beauty's thrall,

I could have lightly whispered round
That little word to all;

And now that I am cold,

And deemed the slave of none, I marvel how my lips have told That little word to one.

XL.

Farewell!-since bliss so rare
Hath beamed but to betray,
It will be long ere I shall wear
The smile I wore to-day;

And since I weep not here

To call you false and vain,
I think I shall not shed one tear
For all this world again!

THE LAST.

Πανύστατον δὴ, κ' ούποτ' αὖθις ὑστέρον.

I.

SOPH. Ajax.

It is the lute, the same poor lute;—
Why do you turn away?
To-morrow let its chords be mute,

But they must sound to-day.

The bark is manned, the seamen throng
Around the creaking mast:

Lady, you heard my first love-song,—
Hear now my last!

II.

Sigh not! I knew the star must set,
I knew the rose must fade;

And if I never can forget,
I never will upbraid:

I would not have you aught but glad,
Where'er my lot is cast;

And if my sad words make you sad,
They are the last!

III.

No more, no more, oh! never more
Will look or tone of mine

Bring clouds that ivory forehead o'er,
Or dim that dark eye's shine;
Look out, dear Lady, from your tower;
The wave rolls deep and vast:
Oh, would to God this bitter hour
Might be my last!

IV.

I think that you will love me still,
Though far our fates may be;
And that your heart will fondly thrill
When strangers ask of me;

My praise will be your proudest theme
When these dark days are past:
If this be all an idle dream,

It is my last!

V.

And now let one kind look be mine,
And clasp this slender chain;
Fill up once more the cup of wine,
Put on my ring again;

And wreathe this wreath around your head

(Alas, it withers fast!)

And whisper, when its flowers are dead,
"It was the last!"

VI.

Thus from your presence forth I go,

A lost and lonely man; Reckless alike of weal or woe,

Heaven's benison or ban:

He who has known the tempest's worst,
May bare him to the blast;

Blame not these tears; they are the first,-
Are they the last?

'APRIL 2, 1829.)

A FAREWELL.

λιποῦσα δ' Εὐρώπης πέδον,
"Ηπειρον ήξεις ̓Ασίδ'. ἆρ ὑμῖν δοκεῖ

ὁ τῶν θεῶν τύραννος εἰς τὰ πάνθ' ὁμῶς
βίαιος εἶναι ;

EscH. Prom. Vinct.

THEY told me thou wilt pass again

Across the echoing wave;

And, though thou canst not break the chain,

Thou wilt forget the slave.