Animula! vagula, Blandula, Hospes, comesque corporis, Quae nunc abibis in Loca-- Pallidula, rigida, nudula, Nec, ut soles, dabis Jocos?
TRANSLATION.
Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring Sprite, Friend and associate of this clay!
To what unknown region borne, Wilt thou, now, wing thy distant flight?
No more with wonted humour gay, But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.
1806.
A FRAGMENT. [1]
When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice; When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride, Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side; Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns, To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
No lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone; [i]
My _epitaph_ shall be my name alone: [2]
If _that_ with honour fail to crown my clay, [ii]
Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!
_That_, only _that_, shall single out the spot; By that remember'd, or with that forgot. [iii]
1803.
[Footnote 1: There is no heading in the Quarto.]
[Footnote 2: In his will, drawn up in 1811, Byron gave directions that "no inscription, save his name and age, should be written on his tomb."
June, 1819, he wrote to Murray: "Some of the epitaphs at the Certosa cemetery, at Ferrara, pleased me more than the more splendid monuments at Bologna; for instance, 'Martini Luigi Implora pace.' Can anything be more full of pathos? I hope whoever may survive me will see those two words, and no more, put over me."--'Life', pp. 131, 398.]
[Footnote: i.
'No lengthen'd scroll of virtue and renown.'
[4to. P. on V. Occ.]]
[Footnote: ii.
'If that with honour fails,'
[4to]]
[Footnote: iii.
'But that remember'd, or fore'er forgot'.
[4to. 'P. on V. Occasions'.]]
TO CAROLINE. [1]
1.
Oh! when shall the grave hide for ever my sorrow?
Oh! when shall my soul wing her flight from this clay?
The present is hell! and the coming to-morrow But brings, with new torture, the curse of to-day.
2.
From my eye flows no tear, from my lips flow no curses, [i]
I blast not the fiends who have hurl'd me from bliss; For poor is the soul which, bewailing, rehearses Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this--
3.
Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning, Would my lips breathe a flame which no stream could assuage, On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its lightning, With transport my tongue give a loose to its rage.
4.
But now tears and curses, alike unavailing, Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight; Could they view us our sad separation bewailing, Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight.
5.
Yet, still, though we bend with a feign'd resignation, Life beams not for us with one ray that can cheer; Love and Hope upon earth bring no more consolation, In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear.
6.
Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place me, Since, in life, love and friendship for ever are fled?
If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee, Perhaps they will leave unmolested--the dead.