The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 40

VII.

How I have treated it, I do not know; Perhaps no better than _they_ have treated me, Who have imputed such designs as show Not what they saw, but what they wished to see: But if it gives them pleasure, be it so; This is a liberal age, and thoughts are free: Meantime Apollo plucks me by the ear, And tells me to resume my story here.[234]

VIII.

Young Juan and his lady-love were left To their own hearts' most sweet society; Even Time the pitiless in sorrow cleft With his rude scythe such gentle bosoms; he Sighed to behold them of their hours bereft, Though foe to Love; and yet they could not be Meant to grow old, but die in happy Spring, Before one charm or hope had taken wing.

IX.

Their faces were not made for wrinkles, their Pure blood to stagnate, their great hearts to fail; The blank grey was not made to blast their hair, But like the climes that know nor snow nor hail, They were all summer; lightning might a.s.sail And s.h.i.+ver them to ashes, but to trail A long and snake-like life of dull decay Was not for them--they had too little clay.

X.

They were alone once more; for them to be Thus was another Eden; they were never Weary, unless when separate: the tree Cut from its forest root of years--the river Dammed from its fountain--the child from the knee And breast maternal weaned at once for ever,-- Would wither less than these two torn apart;[dk]

Alas! there is no instinct like the Heart--

XI.

The Heart--which may be broken: happy they!

Thrice fortunate! who of that fragile mould, The precious porcelain of human clay, Break with the first fall: they can ne'er behold The long year linked with heavy day on day, And all which must be borne, and never told; While Life's strange principle will often lie Deepest in those who long the most to die.

XII.

"Whom the G.o.ds love die young," was said of yore,[235]

And many deaths do they escape by this: The death of friends, and that which slays even more-- The death of Friends.h.i.+p, Love, Youth, all that is, Except mere breath; and since the silent sh.o.r.e Awaits at last even those who longest miss The old Archer's shafts, perhaps the early grave[236]

Which men weep over may be meant to save.

XIII.

Haidee and Juan thought not of the dead-- The Heavens, and Earth, and Air, seemed made for them: They found no fault with Time, save that he fled; They saw not in themselves aught to condemn: Each was the other's mirror, and but read Joy sparkling in their dark eyes like a gem.

And knew such brightness was but the reflection Of their exchanging glances of affection.

XIV.

The gentle pressure, and the thrilling touch, The least glance better understood than words, Which still said all, and ne'er could say too much; A language,[237] too, but like to that of birds, Known but to them, at least appearing such As but to lovers a true sense affords; Sweet playful phrases, which would seem absurd To those who have ceased to hear such, or ne'er heard--

XV.

All these were theirs, for they were children still, And children still they should have ever been; They were not made in the real world to fill A busy character in the dull scene, But like two beings born from out a rill, A Nymph and her beloved, all unseen To pa.s.s their lives in fountains and on flowers, And never know the weight of human hours.

XVI.

Moons changing had rolled on, and changeless found Those their bright rise had lighted to such joys As rarely they beheld throughout their round; And these were not of the vain kind which cloys, For theirs were buoyant spirits, never bound By the mere senses; and that which destroys[dl]

Most love--possession--unto them appeared A thing which each endearment more endeared.

XVII.

Oh beautiful! and rare as beautiful!

But theirs was Love in which the Mind delights To lose itself, when the old world grows dull, And we are sick of its hack sounds and sights, Intrigues, adventures of the common school, Its petty pa.s.sions, marriages, and flights, Where Hymen's torch but brands one strumpet more, Whose husband only knows her not a wh.o.r.e.

XVIII.

Hard words--harsh truth! a truth which many know.

Enough.--The faithful and the fairy pair, Who never found a single hour too slow, What was it made them thus exempt from care?

Young innate feelings all have felt below, Which perish in the rest, but in them were Inherent--what we mortals call romantic, And always envy, though we deem it frantic.

XIX.

This is in others a fact.i.tious state, An opium dream[238] of too much youth and reading, But was in them their nature or their fate: No novels e'er had set their young hearts bleeding,[dm]

For Haidee's knowledge was by no means great, And Juan was a boy of saintly breeding; So that there was no reason for their loves More than for those of nightingales or doves.

XX.

They gazed upon the sunset; 't is an hour Dear unto all, but dearest to _their_ eyes, For it had made them what they were: the power Of Love had first o'erwhelmed them from such skies, When Happiness had been their only dower, And Twilight saw them linked in Pa.s.sion's ties; Charmed with each other, all things charmed that brought The past still welcome as the present thought.

XXI.

I know not why, but in that hour to-night, Even as they gazed, a sudden tremor came, And swept, as 't were, across their hearts' delight, Like the wind o'er a harp-string, or a flame, When one is shook in sound, and one in sight: And thus some boding flashed through either frame, And called from Juan's breast a faint low sigh, While one new tear arose in Haidee's eye.

XXII.

That large black prophet eye seemed to dilate And follow far the disappearing sun, As if their last day of a happy date With his broad, bright, and dropping orb were gone; Juan gazed on her as to ask his fate-- He felt a grief, but knowing cause for none, His glance inquired of hers for some excuse For feelings causeless, or at least abstruse.

XXIII.

She turned to him, and smiled, but in that sort Which makes not others smile; then turned aside: Whatever feeling shook her, it seemed short, And mastered by her wisdom or her pride; When Juan spoke, too--it might be in sport-- Of this their mutual feeling, she replied-- "If it should be so,--but--it cannot be-- Or I at least shall not survive to see."

XXIV.

Juan would question further, but she pressed His lip to hers, and silenced him with this, And then dismissed the omen from her breast, Defying augury with that fond kiss; And no doubt of all methods 't is the best: Some people prefer wine--'t is not amiss; I have tried both--so those who would a part take May choose between the headache and the heartache.

XXV.

One of the two, according to your choice, Woman or wine, you'll have to undergo; Both maladies are taxes on our joys: But which to choose, I really hardly know; And if I had to give a casting voice, For both sides I could many reasons show, And then decide, without great wrong to either, It were much better to have both than neither.

XXVI.

Juan and Haidee gazed upon each other With swimming looks of speechless tenderness, Which mixed all feelings--friend, child, lover, brother-- All that the best can mingle and express When two pure hearts are poured in one another, And love too much, and yet can not love less; But almost sanctify the sweet excess By the immortal wish and power to bless.

XXVII.

Mixed in each other's arms, and heart in heart, Why did they not then die?--they had lived too long Should an hour come to bid them breathe apart; Years could but bring them cruel things or wrong; The World was not for them--nor the World's art For beings pa.s.sionate as Sappho's song; Love was born _with_ them, _in_ them, so intense, It was their very Spirit--not a sense.

XXVIII.

They should have lived together deep in woods, Unseen as sings the nightingale;[239] they were Unfit to mix in these thick solitudes Called social, haunts of Hate, and Vice, and Care:[dn]

How lonely every freeborn creature broods!

The sweetest song-birds nestle in a pair; The eagle soars alone; the gull and crow Flock o'er their carrion, just like men below.