NAPOLEON'S FAREWELL

(From the French)

This poem was written in London in 1815, soon after the battle of Waterloo. It is one of several productions concerned with Napoleon, “the great Emperor who with the great poet divided the wonder of Europe." The anapæstic meter employed in this and several other of Byron's most popular poems is one that lends itself easily to spirited effects. It was a great favorite with Tom Moore, whose influence is clearly seen both here and elsewhere, as in the Stanzas for Music and Stanzas written between Florence and Pisa.

I

AREWELL to the Land where the gloom of my Glory

FAR

Arose and o'ershadowed the earth with her name

She abandons me now- but the page of her story,
The brightest or blackest, is filled with my fame.

I have warred with a World which vanquished me only
When the meteor of conquest allured me too far ;

I have coped with the nations which dread me thus lonely,
The last single Captive to millions in war.

II

Farewell to thee, France! when thy diadem crowned me,
I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth,
But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found thee,
Decayed in thy glory and sunk in thy worth.
Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted

In strife with the storm, when their battles were won
Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was blasted,
Had still soared with eyes fixed on Victory's sun!

III

Farewell to thee, France! but when Liberty rallies

Once more in thy regions, remember me then,

The Violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys;
Though withered, thy tear will unfold it again.
Yet, yet, I may baffle the hosts that surround us,
And yet may thy heart leap awake to my voice —
There are links which must break in the chain that has bound

us,

Then turn thee and call on the Chief of thy choice!

STANZAS FOR MUSIC

(Written in England, March, 1816)

TH

I

HERE be none of Beauty's daughters
With a magic like thee;

And like music on the waters

Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
The charmed Ocean's pausing,

The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lulled winds seem dreaming:

II

And the Midnight Moon is weaving

Her bright chain o'er the deep;
Whose breast is gently heaving,
As an infant's asleep :

So the spirit bows before thee,

To listen and adore thee;

With a full but soft emotion,

Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

1 The violet when Napoleon was banished to Elba, in April, 1814, it was predicted by his partisans that he would return to France with the violets in the following spring. For this reason the violet was taken as the Napoleonic emblem. Now, though defeated and exiled, Napoleon is represented in the poem as hoping to return from St. Helena, as he did from Elba.

FARE THEE WELL

The sincerity of this poem, which was written in March, 1816, soon after the separation from Lady Byron and shortly before the poet's final departure from England, has been seriously questioned. It seems almost incredible that any man, even one so spectacular as Byron, could lay bare to the world such emotions. Yet, according to Byron, as quoted by Moore, the verses were written under stress of profound feeling, were not intended for publication, and were given to the public only" through the injudicious zeal of a friend whom he suffered to take a copy."

Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison truth;
And Constancy lives in realms above;
And life is thorny; and youth is vain;
And to be wroth with one we love,
Doth work like madness in the brain.

ARE thee well! and if forever,

FARE thee well! and if

Still forever, fare thee well:

Even though unforgiving, never

'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee

Where thy head so oft hath lain,

While that placid sleep came o'er thee
Which thou ne'er canst know again:
Would that breast, by thee glanced over,

Every inmost thought could show !
Then thou would'st at last discover

'Twas not well to spurn it so.

20

Though the world for this commend thee -
Though it smile upon the blow,

Even its praises must offend thee,
Founded on another's woe:

Though my many faults defaced me,
Could no other arm be found,

Than the one which once embraced me,

To inflict a cureless wound?
Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not
Love may sink by slow decay,
But by sudden wrench, believe not
Hearts can thus be torn away :
Still thine own its life retaine th

Still must mine, though bleeding, beat;
And the undying thought which paineth
Is that we no more may meet.
These are words of deeper sorrow
Than the wail above the dead;
Both shall live — but every morrow
Wake us from a widowed bed.
And when thou would'st solace gather
When our child's first accents flow
Wilt thou teach her to say "Father!"
Though his care she must forego?
When her little hands shall press thee -
When her lip to thine is pressed

Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee -
Think of him thy love had blessed!

Should her lineaments resemble

Those thou never more may'st see,

Then thy heart will softly tremble
With a pulse yet true to me.

All my faults perchance thou knowest
my madness none can know;

All

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All my hopes where'er thou goest
Wither - yet with thee they go.
Every feeling hath been shaken ;

Pride which not a world could bow

Bows to thee by thee forsaken,

Even my soul forsakes me now.
But 't is done all words are idle.

50

and blighted

60

More than this I scarce can die.

SONNET ON CHILLON

This sonnet, one of the noblest of its kind, though prefixed to The Prisoner of Chillon, was in fact written later than that poem as an especial tribute to the Swiss patriot, Bonnivard.

François de Bonnivard was born near Geneva, in 1496, and succeeded in 1510 to the priory of St. Victor, just outside the walls of the city. As an ardent republican, he espoused the cause of Geneva against the Duke of Savoy, on whose entrance into the city in 1519 Bonnivard was seized and imprisoned for two years at Grolée. Again, in 1530, he was captured by robbers and handed over to the Duke, who this time imprisoned him in the famous Castle of Chillon. Here Bonnivard remained for six years, until liberated by the Bernese and Genevese. By this time Geneva had established her freedom, and the patriot was honored and pensioned by the people for whom he had suffered so long. Bonnivard lived in peace through the remainder of his life, wrote a history of Geneva, and, when he died, either in 1570 or in 1571, left his books as a legacy to the city.

E

TERNAL Spirit of the chainless Mind!

Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art:

For there thy habitation is the heart

The heart which love of thee alone can bind ;