Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 3.djvu/130

His Christian crest and haughty mien.
'Twas but an instant he restrained
That fiery barb so sternly reined;^{[lower-roman 1]}
'Twas but a moment that he stood,
Then sped as if by Death pursued;260
But in that instant o'er his soul
Winters of Memory seemed to roll,
And gather in that drop of time
A life of pain, an age of crime.
O'er him who loves, or hates, or fears,
Such moment pours the grief of years:^{[lower-roman 2]}
What felt he then, at once opprest
By all that most distracts the breast?
That pause, which pondered o'er his fate,
Oh, who its dreary length shall date!270
Though in Time's record nearly nought,
It was Eternity to Thought!^{[decimal 1]}
For infinite as boundless space
The thought that Conscience must embrace,
Which in itself can comprehend
Woe without name, or hope, or end.^{[decimal 2]}

Variants

1. 'Twas but an instant, though so long
   ⁠When thus dilated in my song.
   ⁠'Twas but an instant——.—[MS.]
2. Such moment holds a thousand years.
   or, Such moment proves the grief of years.—[MS.]

Notes

1. ["Lord Byron told Mr. Murray that he took this idea from one of the Arabian tales—that in which the Sultan puts his head into a butt of water, and, though it remains there for only two or three minutes, he imagines that he lives many years during that time. The story had been quoted by Addison in the Spectator" [No. 94, June 18, 1711].—Memoir of John Murray, 1891, i. 219, note.
2. [Lines 271-276 were added in the Third Edition. The MS. proceeds with a direction (dated July 31, 1813) to the printer—
   ⁠"And alter
   ⁠"'A life of woe—an age of crime—'
   to
   ⁠"'A life of pain—an age of crime.'