SOLYMAN BROWN
LADY BYRON TO HER HUSBAND.
Fare thee well, inconstant lover!
If thy fickle flame was love;—
Though our transient joys are over,
I can ne'er inconstant prove.
Man may boast a deathless passion,
Swear his love shall ne'er decline;
Yet, unfix'd as changing fashion,
Woman's fate may change like mine!
Once I thought I might believe thee;
Might on Byron's oath rely;
But my arms do scarce receive thee
Ere thy oaths, unheeded, die.
From paternal arms you took me,
Stole me from a mother's care;
Then in wantonness forsook me
For a less admiring fair.
Prayers and tears were unavailing,
Nought thy purpose could beguile;
Not a wife, her woes bewailing,
Nor a lovely infant's smile.
Heaven had form'd thee for unkindness,
Steel'd thy soul to all that 's mild;
Dimm'd thy moral sight with blindness,
Left thee Nature's wayward child.
Stay! I must not—cannot chide thee;
What thou hast not, who can blame?
Virtue is what heaven denied thee,
And the world has done the same.
Think not I can e'er forget thee;
No, thy griefs will all be mine;
I shall weep when foes beset thee,
Smile when fortune's sun shall shine.
Must I—can I—shall a mother
Hate the father of her child?
Gracious Heaven! my anguish smother,—
At that name, my infant smiled!
Smiled to think she had a father
To protect her growing years;—
Unsuspecting orphan, rather
Drown thine eye in floods of tears!
Father, now, sweet babe, thou hast not;
All his care you must forego;
Other woes thy peace may blast not,
Yet thou hast this keenest wo!
Orphan babe! my care shall ever
Guard thee from the ills of life;
Death alone hath power to sever
Byron's babe and constant wife!
THE EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL.
Farewell to the land that my fathers defended;
Farewell to the field which their ashes inurn;
The holiest flame on their altars descended,
Which, fed by their sons, shall eternally burn:
Ah! soft be the bed where the hero reposes;
And light be the green turf that over him closes—
Gay Flora shall deck, with her earliest roses,
The graves of my sires, and the land of my birth.
Adieu to the scenes which my heart's young emotions
Have drest in attire so alluringly gay;
Ah! never, no never, can billowing oceans,
Nor time, drive the fond recollections away!
From days that are past, present comfort I borrow;
The scenes of to-day shall be brighter to-morrow;
In age I'll recall, as a balm for my sorrow,
The graves of my sires, and the land of my birth.
I go to the West, where the forest, receding,
Invites the adventurous axe-man along;
I go to the groves where the wild deer are feeding,
And mountain-birds carol their loveliest song:
Adieu to the land that my fathers defended,
Adieu to the soil on which freemen contended,
Adieu to the sons who from heroes descended,
The graves of my sires and the land of my birth.
When far from my home and surrounded by strangers,
My thoughts shall recall the gay pleasures of youth:
Though life's stormy ocean shall threaten with dangers,
My soul shall repose in the sunshine of truth:
While streams to their own native ocean are tending,
And forest oaks, swept by the tempest, are bending,
My soul shall exult, as she 's proudly defending
The graves of my sires, and the land of my birth.
