The Works of Lord Byron Complete in One Volume

LARA.

crime;

He comes at last in sudden loneliness, And whence they know not, why they need not guess;

They more might marvel, when the greet-
Not that he came, but came not long before:
ing's o'er,
No train is his beyond a single page,
Of foreign aspect, and of tender age.
Years had roll❜d on, and fast they speed away
To those that wander as to those that stay;
But lack of tidings from another clime
Had lent a flagging wing to weary Time.
They see, they recognise, yet almost deem
He lives, nor yet is past his manhood's prime,
The present dubious, or the past a dream.
Though sear'd by toil,and something touch'd
by time;

His faults, whate'er they were, if scarce forgot,

Might be untaught him by his varied lot; Nor good nor ill of late were known, his

name

Might yet uphold his patrimonial fame: His soul in youth was haughty, but his sins No more than pleasure from the stripling wins;

Then, when he most required command-And such, if not yet harden'd in their course, Might be redeem'd, nor ask a long remorse.

ment, then

Had Lara's daring boyhood govern❜d men. It skills not, boots not step by step to trace His youth through all the mazes of its race; Short was the course his restlessness had run, But long enough to leave him half undone.

And Lara left in youth his father-land; But from the hour he waved his parting hand

Each trace wax'd fainter of his course,till all Had nearly ceased his memory to recal. His sire was dust, his vassals could declare, Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there; Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew Cold in the many, anxious in the few.

His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name, His portrait darkens in its fading frame, Another chief consoled his destined bride, The young forgot him, and the old had died; "Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,

And sighs for sables which he must not wear. A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy

grace

And they indeed were changed — 'tis quickly seen Whate'er he be, 'twas not what he had been : That brow in furrow'd lines had fix'd at

last,

And spake of passions, but of passion past;
The pride, but not the fire, of early days,
Coldness of mien, and carelessness of praise:
A high demeanour, and a glance that took
Their thoughts from others by a single look;
And that sarcastic levity of tongue,
The stinging of a heart the world hath stung.
That darts in seeming playfulness around,
And makes those feel that will not own
the wound;

All these seem'd his, and something more
beneath,
Than glance could well reveal, or accent
breathe.
Ambition, glory, love, the common aim,
That some can conquer, and that all would
claim,

Within his breast appear'd no more to strive, The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place; Yet seem'd as lately they had been alive; But one is absent from the mouldering file, And some deep feeling it were vain to trace That now were welcome in that Gothic pile. | At moments lighten'd o'er his'livid face.

Not much he loved long question of the
past,
Nor told of wondrous wilds, and deserts vast,
In those far lands where he had wander'd
lone,
And—as himself would have it seem-un-
known:

Yet these in vain his eye could scarcely scan,
Nor glean experience from his fellow-man;
But what he had beheld he shunn'd to show,
As hardly worth a stranger's care to know;
If still more prying such inquiry grew,
His brow fell darker, and his words more
few.

Not unrejoiced to see him once again, Warm was his welcome to the haunts of men; Born of high lineage, link'd in high command,

And then, his rarely call'd attendants said, Through night's long hours would sound his hurried tread O'er the dark gallery, where his fathers frown'd

In rude but antique portraiture around: They heard, but whisper'd" that must not be knownThe sound of words less earthly than his own. Yes, they who chose might smile, but some had seen

They scarce knew what, but more than should have been.

Why gazed he so upon the ghastly head
Which hands profane had gather'd from
the dead,

That still beside his open'd volume lay,
As if to startle all save him away?
Why slept he not when others were at rest?
Why heard no music and received no guest?
All was not well they deem'd-but where
the wrong?

Some knew perchance-but 'twere a tale
too long;

He mingled with the Magnates of his land;
Join'd the carousals of the great and gay,
And saw them smile or sigh their hours away;
But still he only saw, and did not share
The common pleasure or the general care;
He did not follow what they all pursued And such besides were too discreetly wise,
With hope still baffled, still to be renew'd; To more than hint their knowledge in
Nor shadowy honour, nor substantial gain,
Nor beauty's preference, and the rival's pain:
Around him some mysterious circle thrown
Repell❜d approach, and show'd him still
alone;

Upon his eye sate something of reproof,
That kept at least frivolity aloof;
And things more timid that beheld him near,
In silence gazed, or whisper'd mutual fear;
And they the wiser, friendlier few confest
They deem'd him better than his air exprest.

Twas strange-in youth all action and all life, Burning for pleasure, not averse from strife; Woman the field-the ocean- all that gave

Promise of gladness, peril of a grave,
In turn he tried-he ransack'd all below,
And found his recompense in joy or woe,
No tame, trite medium; for his feelings
sought

In that intenseness an escape from thought:
The tempest of his heart in scorn had gazed
On that the feebler elements hath raised;
The rapture of his heart had look'd on high,
And ask'd if greater dwelt beyond the sky:
Chain'd to excess, the slave of each extreme,
How woke he from the wildness of that
dream?

Alas! he told not-but he did awake
To curse the wither'd heart that would
not break.

Books, for his volume heretofore was Man, With eye more curious he appear'd to scan, And oft, in sudden mood, for many a day From all communion he would start away:

But if they would
Thus Lara's vassals

surmise; they could "— around the board, prattled of their lord.

bee;

Such in her chaplet infant Dian wove,
And Innocence would offer to her love.
These deck the shore; the waves their
channel make

In windings bright and mazy like the snake.
All was so still, so soft in earth and air,
You scarce would start to meet a spirit there;
Secure that nought of evil could delight
To walk in such a scene, on such a night!
It was a moment only for the good:
So Lara deem'd, nor longer there he stood,
But turn'd in silence to his castle-gate;
Such scene his soul no more could contem-
plate:

Such scene reminded him of other days,
Of skies more cloudless, moons of purer
blaze,

Of nights more soft and frequent, hearts
that now-

No-no-the storm may beat upon his brow,
Unfelt - unsparing—but a night like this,
A night of beauty, mock'd such breast as his.

He turn'd within his solitary hall, And his high shadow shot along the wall; There were the painted forms of other times, "Twas all they left of virtues or of crimes, Save vague tradition; and the gloomy vaults That hid their dust, their foibles, and their faults;

And half a column of the pompous page, That speeds the specious tale from age to age: Where history's pen its praise or blame supplies,

And lies like truth, and still most truly lies. He wandering mused, and as the moonbeam shone Through the dim lattice o'er the floor of stone,

And the high fretted roof, and saints, that

there

O'er Gothic windows knelt in pictured

prayer,

Reflected in fantastic figures grew,
Like life, but not like mortal life, to view;
His bristling locks of sable, brow of gloom,
And the wide waving of his shaken plume,
Glane'd like a spectre's attributes, and gave
His aspect all that terror gives the grave.

frame;

And solace sought he none from priest nor leech,

And soon the same in movement and in speech As heretofore he fill'd the passing hours, Nor less he smiles nor more his forehead lours Than these were wont; and if the coming night

Appear'd less welcome now to Lara's sight, He to his marvelling vassals show'd it not, Whose shuddering proved their fear was less forgot.

In trembling pairs (alone they dared not) crawl

The astonish'd slaves, and shun the fated hall;

The waving banner, and the clapping door, The rustling tapestry, and the echoing floor, The long dim shadows of surrounding trees, The flapping bat, the night-song of the breeze;

Some imprecation of despairing pride;
His eye was almost seal'd, but not forsook
Even in its trance the gladiator's look,
That oft awake his aspect could disclose,
And now was fix'd in horrible repose.
They raise him-bear him; hush! he As evening saddens o'er the dark gray

breathes, he speaks,

Aught they hehold or hear their thoughts appals,

walls.

Vain thought! that hour of ne'er unra- | Which tenderness might once have wrung
vell❜d gloom
from rest;

Came not again, or Lara could assume
A seeming of forgetfulness, that made
His vassals more amazed nor less afraid--
Had memory vanish'd then with sense
restored?

Since word, nor look, nor gesture of their
lord

Betray'd a feeling that recall'd to these
That fever'd moment of his mind's disease.
Was it a dream? was his the voice that
spoke

Those strange wild accents? his the cry

that broke

Their slumber? his the oppress'd o'erlabour'd heart

That ceased to beat, the look that made them start?

Could he who thus had suffer'd, so forget,
When such as saw that suffering shudder
yet?

Or did that silence prove his memory fix'd
Too deep for words, indelible, unmix'd
In that corroding secrecy which gnaws
The heart to show the effect, but not the
cause?

Not so in him; his breast had buried both,
Nor common gazers could discern the growth
Of thoughts that mortal lips must leave
half told;

They choke the feeble words that would
unfold.

In him inexplicably mix'd appear'd Much to be loved and hated, sought and fear'd;

Opinion varying o'er his hidden lot,
In praise or railing ne'er his name forgot;
His silence form'd a theme for others'
prate-
They guess'd-they gazed-they fain would
know his fate.

What had be been? what was he, thus
unknown,

Who walk'd their world, his lineage only known?

A hater of his kind? yet some would say, With them he could seem gay amidst the gay;

But own'd, that smile, if oft observed and

near,

Waned in its mirth, and wither'd to a sneer;
That smile might reach his lip, but pass'd
not by,

None e'er could trace its laughter to his eye:
Yet there was softness too in his regard,
At times, a heart as not by nature hard,
But once perceived, his spirit seem'd to
chide

Such weakness, as unworthy of its pride,
And steel'd itself, as scorning to redeem
One doubt from others' half withheld
esteem;
In self-inflicted penance of a breast

In vigilance of grief that would compel
The soul to hate for having loved too well.

There was in him a vital scorn of all:
As if the worst had fall'n which could befall,
He stood a stranger in this breathing world,
An erring spirit from another hurl'd;
A thing of dark imaginings, that shaped
By choice the perils he by chance escaped;
But 'scaped in vain, for in their memory yet
His mind would half exult and half regret:
With more capacity for love than earth
Bestows on most of mortal mould and birth,
His early dreams of good outstripp'd the
truth,

And troubled manhood follow'd baffled
youth;

With thought of years in phantom-chase mispent,

And wasted powers for better purpose lent;
And fiery passions that had pour'd their
wrath

In hurried desolation o'er his path,
And left the better feelings all at strife
In wild reflection o'er his stormy life;
But haughty still, and loth himself to blame,
He call'd on Nature's self to share the shame,
And charged all faults upon the fleshly form
She gave to clog the soul, and feast the
worm;

'Till he at last confounded good and ill,
And half mistook for fate the acts of will:
Too high for common selfishness, he could
At times resign his own for others' good,
But not in pity, not because he ought,
But in some strange perversity of thought,
That sway'd him onwards with a secret
pride

To do what few or none would do beside;
And this same impulse would, in tempting
time,

Mislead his spirit equally to crime;
So much he soar'd beyond, or sunk beneath
The men with whom he felt condemn'd to
breathe,

And long'd by good or ill to separate
Himself from all who shared his mortal
state;

His mind abhorring this had fix'd her throne
Far from the world, in regions of her own:
Thus coldly passing all that pass'd below,
His blood in temperate seeming now would
flow:

Ah! happier if it ne'er with guilt had glow'd,
But ever in that icy smoothness flow'd!
Tis true, with other men their path he
walk'd,

And like the rest in seeming did and talk'd,
Nor outraged Reason's rules by flaw nor start,
His madness was not of the head, but heart;
And rarely wander'd in his speech, or drew
His thoughts so forth as to offend the view.

With all that chilling mystery of mien, | Of keen inquiry, and of mute amaze;
And seeming gladness to remain unseen;
He had (if 'twere not nature's boon) an art
Of fixing memory on another's heart:
It was not love perchance nor hate-nor
aught

That words can image to express the thought;
But they who saw him did not see in vain,
And once beheld, would ask of him again:
And those to whom he spake remember'd
well,

And on the words, however light, would
dwell:

None knew, nor how, nor why, but he

entwined

Himself perforce around the hearer's mind;
There he was stamp'd in liking, or in hate,
If greeted once; however brief the date
That friendship, pity, or aversion knew,
Still there within the inmost thought he

dames,

On Lara's glance emotion gathering grew,
As if distrusting that the stranger threw;
Along the stranger's aspect fix'd and stern,
Flash'd more than thence the vulgar eye
could learn.

""Tis he!" the stranger cried, and those
that heard,
Re-echoed fast and far the whisper'd word.
66 "Tis he!" "Tis who? they question
far and near,

Till louder accents rung on Lara's ear;
So widely spread, few bosoms well could

brook

The general marvel, or that single look;
But Lara stirr'd not, changed not, the surprise
That sprung at first to his arrested eyes
Seem'd now subsided,neither sunk nor raised
Glanced his eye round, though still the

And drawing nigh, exclaim'd, with haughty
stranger gazed,

It were too much for Lara to pass by Such question, so repeated fierce and high; With look collected, but with accent cold,

There is a festival, where knights and More mildly firm than petulantly bold, He turn'd, and met the inquisitorial toneAnd aught that wealth or lofty lineage" My name is Lara!- when thine own is claims known,

Appear a highborn and a welcome guestDoubt not my fitting answer to requite
To Otho's hall came Lara with the rest. The unlook'd for courtesy of such a knight.
The long carousal shakes the illumined hall, 'Tis Lara! further wouldst thou mark or
Well speeds alike the banquet and the ball;"
ask?

And the gay dance of bounding Beauty's I shun no question and 1 wear no mask.”

train

Links grace and harmony in happiest chain:
Blest are the early hearts and gentle hands
That mingle there in well according bands;
It is a sight the careful brow might smoothe,
And make Age smile, and dream itself to
youth,

And Youth forget such hour was past on
earth,
So springs the exulting bosom to that mirth!

And Lara gazed on these, sedately glad, His brow belied him if his soul was sad; And his glance follow'd fast each fluttering fair,

They knew, or chose to know--with dubious look

He deign'd no answer, but his head he shook, And half contemptuous turn'd to pass away; But the stern stranger motion'd him to stay. "A word!-I charge thee stay, and answer here

Whose steps of lightness woke no echo there:
He lean'd against the lofty pillar nigh,
With folded arms and long attentive eye,
Nor mark'd a glance so sternly fix'd on his,
Ill brook'd high Lara scrutiny like this:
At length he caught it, 'tis a face unknown,
But seems as searching his, and his alone;
Prying and dark, a stranger's by his mien,
Who still till now had gazed on him unseen; But as thou wast and art-nay, frown not,
At length encountering meets the mutual

gaze

To one, who, wert thou noble, were thy

peer,

lord,

If false, 'tis easy to disprove the word

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