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I did remind thee of our own dear Lake,10
The world is all before me; I but ask
Of Nature that with which she will comply-
She was my early friend, and now shall be
I can reduce all feelings but this one;
The passions which have torn me would have slept
With false Ambition what had I to do
Little with Love, and least of all with Fame;
Surely I once beheld a nobler aim.
To baffled millions which have gone before.
And for the future, this world's future may From me demand but little of my care; I have outlived myself by many a day; Having survived so many things that were; My years have been no slumber, but the prey Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share Of life which might have fill'd a century, Before its fourth in time had pass'd me by.
And for the remnant which may be to come I am content; and for the past I feel Not thankless,-for within the crowded sum Of struggles, happiness at times would steal, And for the present, I would not benumb My feelings farther.-Nor shall I conceal That with all this I still can look around, And worship Nature with a thought profound.
For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart
From life's commencement to its slow decline We are entwined--let death come slow or fast, The tie which bound the first endures the last !
LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL.
AND thou wert sad-yet I was not with thee;
And shall be more so; for the mind recoils
We feel benumb'd, and wish to be no more,
I am too well avenged!-but 'twas my right;
Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument.
Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now.
Thy nights are banish'd from the realms of sleep !—
For thou art pillow'd on a curse too deep;
I have had many foes, but none like thee;
Hadst nought to dread-in thy own weakness shielded,
And thus upon the world-trust in thy truth,
On things that were not, and on things that are— Even upon such a basis hast thou built
A monument, whose cement hath been guilt!
And hew'd down, with an unsuspected sword,
Fame, peace, and hope-and all the better life
Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell
All found a place in thy philosophy.
NOTES TO DOMESTIC PIECES.
1.-Page 329, line 13.
["I SEND you my last night's dream, and request to have fifty copies struck off, for private distribution. I wish Mr. Gifford to look at them. They are from life."-Lord B. to Mr. Murray, March 30, 1816.]
2.-Page 332, line 4.
And festering in the infamy of years.
[In first draught-"weltering." "I doubt about 'weltering.' We say 'weltering in blood;' but do they not also use 'weltering in the wind,' 'weltering on a gibbet?' I have no dictionary, so look. In the mean time, I have put 'festering;' which, perhaps, in any case is the best word of the two. Shakspeare has it often, and I do not think it too strong for the figure in this thing. Quick! quick! quick! quick!"-Lord B. to Mr. Murray, April 2.]
3.-Page 332, line 5.
STANZAS TO AUGUSTA.
[His sister, the Honourable Mrs. Leigh.-These stanzas-the parting tribute to her whose tenderness had been his sole consolation in the crisis of domestic misery-were, we believe, the last verses written by Lord Byron in England.]
4.-Page 334, line 1.
STANZAS TO AUGUSTA.
[These beautiful verses, so expressive of the writer's wounded feelings at the moment, were written in July, at the Campagne Diodati, near Geneva. "Be careful," he says, "in printing the stanzas beginning, 'Though the day of my destiny's,' &c., which I think well of as a composition."]
[In the original MS.
5.-Page 334, line 4.
"Though the days of my glory are over,