To Inez.[99]

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, ev'n 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? To zones though more and more remote,[di] Still, still pursues, where'er I be, The blight of Life--the Demon Thought.

7.

Yet others rapt in pleasure seem, And taste of all that I forsake; Oh! may they still of transport dream, And ne'er--at least like me--awake!

8.

Through many a clime 'tis mine to go, With many a retrospection curst; 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.

Jan. 25. 1810.--[MS.]

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, Some native blood was seen thy streets to dye, A Traitor only fell beneath the feud: [17.B.] Here all were noble, save Nobility; None hugged a 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 nought 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!"[18.B.]

LXXXVII.

Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know[dj] 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 curst oppressor bleed-- So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!