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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/121

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87
ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR.

3.

The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone[1] as some Volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze—
A funeral pile.


4.

The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain.


5.

But 't is not thus—and 't is not here[2]
Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now
Where Glory decks the hero's bier,[3]
Or binds his brow.


6.

The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,[4]
Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,[5]
Was not more free.


7.

Awake! (not Greece—she is awake!)

Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
  1. Is like to ——.—[M.C.]
  2. —— it is not here.—[M.C.]
  3. —— seals the hero's bier.—[M. C.]
  4. The steed—the Banner—and the Field.—[MS. B.M.]
  5. [The slain were borne on their shields. Witness the Spartan mother's speech to her son, delivered with his buckler: "either with this or on this" (B.M. Addit. MS. 31, 038).]