’Tis time this heart should be unmoved, Since others it hath ceased to move: Yet, though I cannot be beloved, Still let me love! My days are in the yellow leaf; 5 The flowers and fruits of love are gone; The worm, the canker, and the grief Are mine alone! The fire that on my bosom preys Is lone as some volcanic isle; 10 No torch is kindled at its blaze-- A funeral pile. The hope, the fear, the jealous care, The exalted portion of the pain And power of love, I cannot share, 15 But wear the chain. But ’tis not _thus_--and ’tis not _here_-- Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor _now_, Where glory decks the hero’s bier, Or binds his brow. 20 The sword, the banner, and the field, Glory and Greece, around me see! The Spartan, borne upon his shield, Was not more free. Awake! (not Greece--she _is_ awake!) 25 Awake, my spirit! Think through _whom_ Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake, And then strike home! Tread those reviving passions down, Unworthy manhood!--unto thee 30 Indifferent should the smile or frown Of beauty be. If thou regret’st thy youth, _why live_? The land of honourable death Is here:--up to the field, and give 35 Away thy breath! Seek out-- less often sought than found-- A soldier’s grave, for thee the best; Then look around, and choose thy ground, And take thy rest. 40 _Lord Byron._ CCXXV _PESCHIERA._ What voice did on my spirit fall, Peschiera, when thy bridge I crost? ‘’Tis better to have fought and lost, Than never to have fought at all.’ The tricolor--a trampled rag 5 Lies, dirt and dust; the lines I track By sentry boxes yellow-black, Lead up to no Italian flag. I see the Croat soldier stand Upon the grass of your redoubts; 10 The eagle with his black wings flouts The breadth and beauty of your land. Yet not in vain, although in vain, O men of Brescia, on the day Of loss past hope, I heard you say 15 Your welcome to the noble pain. You said, ‘Since so it is,--good bye Sweet life, high hope; but whatsoe’er May be, or must, no tongue shall dare To tell, “The Lombard feared to die!”’ 20 You said, (there shall be answer fit,) ‘And if our children must obey, They must; but thinking on this day, ’Twill less debase them to submit.’