Etchings in Verse (Underhill)/Imitation of Byron

by Andrew Findlay Underhill

IMITATION OF BYRON.

WITH just enough of happiness to bring
A deadlier poison unto misery's sting,
He lived among the beings whom he met,
Craving that boon, the power to forget.
He gazed on many a one with envious eye,
Which, doubtless, placed their realm of joy too high,
And sighed to think his lot so far beneath,
In happiness, the crowd that live—to breathe.
Oft in his conversation did he seem
To talk and act as he were in a dream—
Unconscious of all mortal things around,
Wrapped in a gloomy reverie profound.
And oftentimes from silence would he start
As if a deadly pang had wrung his heart,
As tho' the halls of memory again
Gave back the echo of forgotten pain.
He loved the gloaming of the twilight hour,
When the bright day is fading on the sight.
He loved to seek some soft, and lonely bower,
And there, alone, to gaze upon the night.
He loved to watch the pale, and wandering stars,
When Luna's beams danced on the midnight sea;
To mark the shivering beams of fiery Mars;
To muse on death, and bright eternity.
All these he loved; but man he shunned, and feared,
For in mankind too soon his life was seared.
His faith was nailed unflinchingly to one,
But, when he proved unworthy, there were none
Who e'er could fill the place he once supplied:
For virtue was by him for aye belied.
As that one fell to nothing in his mind,
To censure dragged were each and all mankind;
And so he deemed but villains all the rest,
Because he proved so who had seemed the best.