TO INEZ.

1.

NAY, Smile not at my sullen brow;
Alas! I cannot smile again :
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou

Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.

2

And dost thou ask what secret woe
I bear, corroding joy and youth?
And wilt thou vainly seek to know
A pang, even thou must fail to soothe?

3.

It is not love, it is not hate,

Nor low Ambition's honours lost,
That bids me loathe my present state,
And fly from all I prized the most:

4.

It is that weariness which springs
From all I meet, or hear, or see:
To me no pleasure Beauty brings;
Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me.

5.

It is that settled, ceaseless gloom

The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore ; That will not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before.

6.

What exile from himself can flee ?1

To zones though more and more remote,

1 ["What exile from nimself can flee?

To other zones, howe'er remote,

Still, still pursuing clings to me

The blight of life-the demon Thought.”—MS.]

1 ["

Still, still pursues, where'er I be,

The blight of life-the demon Thought.1

7.

Yet others rapt in pleasure seem,

And taste of all that I forsake
Oh! may they still of transport dream,
And neʼer, at least like me, awake!

8.

Through many a clime 'tis mine to go,
With many a retrospection cursed;
And all my solace is to know,

Whate'er betides, I've known the worst.

9.

What is that worst? Nay, do not ask—
In pity from the search forbear:

Smile on-nor venture to unmask

Man's heart, and view the hell that's there."

"Written January 25, 1810."-MS.]

2 [In place of this song, which was written at Athens, January 25, 1810, and which contains, as Moore says, "some of the dreariest touches of sadness that ever Byron's pen let fall," we find, in the first draught of the Canto, the following:

Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole

The fire, that through those silken lashes
In darkest glances seems to roll,

From eyes that cannot hide their flashes:

LXXXV.

Adieu, fair Cadiz ! yea, a long adieu!

Who may forget how well thy walls have stood?
When all were changing thou alone wert true,
First to be free and last to be subdued:
And if amidst a scene, a shock so rude,

And as along her bosom steal

In lengthen'd flow her raven tresses,
You'd swear each clustering lock could feel,
And curl'd to give her neck caresses.

3.

Our English maids are long to woo,
And frigid even in possession;
And if their charms be fair to view,

Their lips are slow at Love's confession:

But born beneath a brighter sun,

For love ordain'd the Spanish maid is,
And who, when fondly, fairly won,-
Enchants you like the girl of Cadiz?

4.

The Spanish maid is no coquette,
Nor joys to see a lover tremble;

And if she love, or if she hate,

Alike she knows not to dissemble.
Her heart can ne'er be bought or sold-
Howe'er it beats, it beats sincerely;

And, though it will not bend to gold,

"Twill love you long and love you dearly.

5.

The Spanish girl that meets your love
Ne'er taunts you with a mock denial,

For every thought is bent to prove
Her passion in the hour of trial.
When thronging foemen menace Spain

She dares the deed and shares the danger;

And should her lover press the plain,

She hurls the spear, her love's avenger.

Some native blood was seen thy streets to dye;

A traitor only fell beneath the feud :1

Here all were noble, save Nobility;

None hugg'da conqueror's chain, save fallen Chivalry!

LXXXVI.

Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her fate!
They fight for freedom who were never free;
A kingless people for a nerveless state,
Her vassals combat when their chieftains flee,
True to the veriest slaves of treachery :

Fond of a land which gave them naught but life,
Pride points the path that leads to liberty ;
Back to the struggle, baffled in the strife,
War, war is still the cry, "War even to the knife!""

6.

And when, beneath the evening star,
She mingles in the gay bolero,

Or sings to her attuned guitar

Of Christian knight or Moorish hero,

Or counts her beads with fairy hand
Beneath the twinkling rays of Hesper,

Or joins devotion's choral band,

To chant the sweet and hallow'd vesper ;

7.

In each her charms the heart must move
Of all who venture to behold her;
Then let not maids less fair reprove
Because her bosom is not colder:
Through many a clime 'tis mine to roam,
Where many a soft and melting maid is,
But none abroad and few at home,

May match the dark-eyed girl of Cadiz.

1 Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the governor

of Cadiz, in May, 1809.

2 "War to the knife." at the siege of Saragoza.

Palafox's answer to the French general [In his proclamations, also, he stated,

So

LXXXVII.

Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know,
Go, read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife:
Whate'er keen vengeance urged on foreign foe
Can act, is acting there against man's life:
From flashing scimitar to secret knife,

War mouldeth there each weapon to his need—
So may he guard the sister and the wife,
So may he make each cursed oppressor bleed-
may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!1

that, should the French commit any robberies, devastations, and murders, no quarter should be given them. The dogs by whom he was beset, he said, scarcely left him time to clean his sword from their blood, but they still found their grave at Saragoza. All his addresses were in the same spirit. "His language,” says Mr. Southey, "had the high tone, and something of the inflation of Spanish romance, suiting the character of those to whom it was directed." See History of the Peninsular War, vol. iii. p. 152.] 1 The Canto, in the original MS., closes with the following

stanzas:

Ye who would more of Spain and Spaniards know,
Sights, saints, antiques, arts, anecdotes, and war,
Go! hie ye hence to Paternoster Row-

Are they not written in the Book of Carr,*
Green Erin's knight and Europe's wandering star!
Then listen, readers, to the Man of Ink,

Hear what he did, and sought, and wrote afar;
All these are coop'd within one quarto's brink,

This borrow, steal,-don't buy,—and tell us what you think.

There may you read, with spectacles on eyes,
How many Wellesleys did embark for Spain,
As if therein they meant to colonize,

How many troops y-crossed the laughing main

:

* Porphyry said, that the prophecies of Daniel were written after their completion, and such may be my fate here; but it requires no second sight to foretel a tome the first glimpse of the knight was enough. [In a letter written from Gibraltar, August 6, 1809, to his friend Hodgson, Lord Byron says, "I have seen Sir John Carr at Seville and Cadiz; and, like Swift's barber, have been down on my knees to beg he would not put me into black and white."]