The Works of Lord Byron Volume I Part 39

[Footnote i:

'To----'.

['Hours of Idleness, Poems O. and Translated]]

[Footnote ii.

'However, dear S----'.

['Hours of Idleness, Poems O. and Translated'.]]

DAMaeTAS. [1]

In law an infant, [2] and in years a boy, In mind a slave to every vicious joy; From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd, In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend; Vers'd in hypocrisy, while yet a child; Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild; Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool; Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school; Damaetas ran through all the maze of sin, And found the goal, when others just begin: Ev'n still conflicting pa.s.sions shake his soul, And bid him drain the dregs of Pleasure's bowl; But, pall'd with vice, he breaks his former chain, And what was once his bliss appears his bane.

[Footnote 1: Moore appears to have regarded these lines as applying to Byron himself. It is, however, very unlikely that, with all his pa.s.sion for painting himself in the darkest colours, he would have written himself down "a hypocrite." Damaetas is, probably, a satirical sketch of a friend or acquaintance. (Compare the solemn denunciation of Lord Falkland in 'English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers', lines 668-686.)]]

[Footnote 2: In law, every person is an infant who has not attained the age of twenty-one.]

TO MARION. [1]

MARION! why that pensive brow? [i]

What disgust to life hast thou?

Change that discontented air; Frowns become not one so fair.

'Tis not Love disturbs thy rest, Love's a stranger to thy breast: _He_, in dimpling smiles, appears, Or mourns in sweetly timid tears; Or bends the languid eyelid down, But _shuns_ the cold forbidding 'frown'.

Then resume thy former fire, Some will _love_, and all admire!

While that icy aspect chills us, Nought but cool Indiff'rence thrills us.

Would'st thou wand'ring hearts beguile, Smile, at least, or _seem_ to _smile_; Eyes like _thine_ were never meant To hide their orbs in dark restraint; Spite of all thou fain wouldst say, Still in _truant_ beams they play.

Thy lips--but here my _modest_ Muse Her impulse _chaste_ must needs refuse: She _blushes, curtsies, frowns,_--in short She Dreads lest the _Subject_ should transport me; And flying off, in search of _Reason_, Brings Prudence back in proper season.

_All_ I shall, therefore, say (whate'er [ii]

I think, is neither here nor there,) Is, that such _lips_, of looks endearing, Were form'd for _better things_ than _sneering_.

Of soothing compliments divested, Advice at least's disinterested; Such is my artless song to thee, From all the flow of Flatt'ry free; Counsel like _mine_ is as a brother's, _My_ heart is given to some others; That is to say, unskill'd to cozen, It shares itself among a dozen.

Marion, adieu! oh, pr'ythee slight not This warning, though it may delight not; And, lest my precepts be displeasing, [iii]

To those who think remonstrance teazing, At once I'll tell thee our opinion, Concerning Woman's soft Dominion: Howe'er we gaze, with admiration, On eyes of blue or lips carnation; Howe'er the flowing locks attract us, Howe'er those beauties may distract us; Still fickle, we are p.r.o.ne to rove, _These_ cannot fix our souls to love; It is not too _severe_ a stricture, To say they form a _pretty picture_; But would'st thou see the secret chain, Which binds us in your humble train, To hail you Queens of all Creation, Know, in a _word, 'tis Animation_.

BYRON, _January_ 10, 1807.

[Footnote 1: The MS. of this Poem is preserved at Newstead. "This was to Harriet Maltby, afterwards Mrs. Nichols, written upon her meeting Byron, and, 'being 'cold, silent', and 'reserved' to him,' by the advice of a Lady with whom she was staying; quite foreign to her 'usual' manner, which was gay, lively, and full of flirtation."--Note by Miss E. Pigot.

(See p. 130, var. ii.)]

[Footnote a:

'Harriet'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote b:

'All I shall therefore say of these', ('Thy pardon if my words displease').

['MS. Newstead'.]]

[Footnote c:

'And lest my precepts be found fault, by Those who approved the frown of M--lt-by'.

['MS. Newstead'.]]

OSCAR OF ALVA. [1]

1.

How sweetly s.h.i.+nes, through azure skies, The lamp of Heaven on Lora's sh.o.r.e; Where Alva's h.o.a.ry turrets rise, And hear the din of arms no more!