by George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824)
To Thyrza
Language: English
Without a stone to mark the spot, And say, what Truth might well have said, By all, save one, perchance forgot, Ah! Wherefore art thou lowly laid? By many a shore and many a sea Divided, yet beloved in vain; The Past, the Future fled to thee, To bid us meet -- no -- ne'er again! Could this have been -- a word, a look, That softly said, "We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook, With fainter sighs, thy soul's release. And didst thou not, since Death for thee Prepared a light and pangless dart, Once long for him thou ne'er shall see Who held, and holds thee in his heart? Oh! Who like him had watch'd thee here? Or sadly mark'd thy glazing eye, In that dread hour ere death appear, When silent sorrow fears to sigh, Till all was past? But when no more 'Twas thine to reck of human woe, Affection's heart-drops, gushing o'er Had flow'd as fast -- as now they flow. Shall they not flow, when many a day In these, to me, deserted towers, Ere call'd but for a time away, Affection's mingling tears were ours? Ours too the glance none saw beside; The smile none else might understand; The whisper'd thought of hearts allied, The pressure of the thrilling hand. The kiss, so guiltless and refined, That Love each warmer wish forbore; Those eyes proclaim'd so pure a mind Even Passion blush'd to plead for more. The tone, that taught me to rejoice, When prone, unlike thee, to repine; The song, celestial from thy voice, But sweet to me from none but thine; The pledge we wore -- I wear it still, But where is thine? -- Ah! Where art thou? Oft have I borne the weight of ill, But never bent beneath till now! Well hast thou left in life's best bloom The cup of woe for me to drain. If rest alone be in the tomb, I would not wish thee here again. But if in worlds more blest than this Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss, To wean me from mine anguish here. Teach me -- too early taught by thee! To bear, forgiving and forgiven: On earth thy love was such to me; It fain would form my hope in heaven!
Confirmed with Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a Romaunt: and other Poems, seventh Edition, London: John Murray, 1814, pages 218 - 220. Appears in Poems.
Authorship:
- by George Gordon Noel Byron, Lord Byron (1788 - 1824), "To Thyrza", appears in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, a Romaunt: and other Poems, in Poems, first published 1812 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]
Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):
- by M. Stydolf, Mr. , "To Thyrza", published 1886 [ voice and piano ], from Five Songs, from the Works of the English Poets, &c. [sung text not yet checked]
Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]
This text was added to the website: 2009-08-09
Line count: 56
Word count: 385