Lord Byron (1788–1824). Poetry of Byron. 1881.
I. Personal, Lyric, and ElegiacTo Inez
N
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.
I bear, corroding joy and youth? And wilt thou vainly seek to know A pang ev’n thou must fail to soothe? Nor low Ambition’s honours lost, That bids me loathe my present state, And fly from all I prized the most: From all I meet, or hear, or see: To me no pleasure beauty brings; Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me. The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore; That will not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before. To zones, though more and more remote, Still, still pursues, where-e’er I be, The blight of life—the demon thought. And taste of all that I forsake; Oh! may they still of transport dream, And ne’er, at least like me, awake! With many a retrospection curst; And all my solace is to know, Whate’er betides, I’ve know the worst. In pity from the search forbear; Smile on—nor venture to unmask Man’s heart, and view the Hell that’s there.