Pensée de Byron

Elegy

With my love and my constancy,

I have thought to bend your rigor,

And of hope some whisperings

Have reached into my heart’s core;

But time, which I in vain prolong,

Has unveiled to me the truth,

Hope like a very dream has gone...

And only my love I keep for proof!

It I keep like some gulf fixed

Between my life and happiness,

Like an ill of which I’m victim,

Like a weight on my heart tossed!

To flee the trap where I am snared,

My efforts will be superfluous;

For mankind has one foot in the grave,

When hope no longer bears him up.

I loved the lyre to awaken,

And often, filled with sweet transports,

I dared, moved by delirium,

To draw from it most tender chords.

How many times, shedding tears warm,

I’ve sung of your divine attraction!

My accents all were filled with charms,

For you were their inspiration.

That time is gone, and delirium

Comes no more to stir my voice;

At my lyre I nowise hear

Its former everpresent noise.

In the grief that me consumes,

I see my fair days all fly off;

If my eyes are still illumed,

It’s with tears about to drop!

Break we now the cup of life;

Its liquor is nothing else than poison;

Unto my madness it is blithe,

Yet it intoxicates my reason.

Too long in love with a vain dream,

Glory! love! you had my heart:

O Glory! a lie is all you mean;

Love! you’re not happiness at all!

Gérard de Nerval