I Would I Were a Careless Child
by George Gordon, Lord Byron
(From Hours of Idleness - 1807)
- I would I were a careless child,
- Still dwelling in my Highland cave,
- Or roaming through the dusky wild,
- Or bounding oer the dark blue wave;
- The cumbrous pomp of Saxon pride
- Accords not with the freeborn soul,
- Which loves the mountains craggy side,
- And seeks the rocks where billows roll.
- Fortune! take back these cultured lands,
- Take back this name of splendid sound!
- I hate the touch of servile hands,
- I hate the slaves that cringe around.
- Place me among the rocks I love,
- Which sound to Oceans wildest roar;
- I ask but thisagain to rove
- Through scenes my youth hath known before.
- Few are my years, and yet I feel
- The world was neer designed for me:
- Ah! why do darkning shades conceal
- The hour when man must cease to be?
- Once I beheld a splendid dream,
- A visionary scene of bliss:
- Truth!wherefore did thy hated beam
- Awake me to a world like this?
- I lovedbut those I love are gone;
- Had friendsmy early friends are fled:
- How cheerless feels the heart alone,
- When all its former hopes are dead!
- Though gay companions oer the bowl
- Dispel awhile the sense of ill;
- Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul,
- The heartthe heartis lonely still.
- How dull! to hear the voice of those
- Whom rank or chance, whom wealth or power,
- Have made, though neither friends nor foes,
- Associates of the festive hour.
- Give me again a faithful few,
- In years and feelings still the same,
- And I will fly the midnight crew,
- Where boistrous joy is but a name.
- And woman, lovely woman! thou,
- My hope, my comforter, my all!
- How cold must be my bosom now,
- When een thy smiles begin to pall!
- Without a sigh would I resign
- This busy scene of splendid woe,
- To make that calm contentment mine,
- Which virtue know, or seems to know.
- Fain would I fly the haunts of men
- I seek to shun, not hate mankind;
- My breast requires the sullen glen,
- Whose gloom may suit a darkend mind.
- Oh! that to me the wings were given
- Which bear the turtle to her nest!
- Then would I cleave the vault of heaven,
- To flee away, and be at rest.
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