1.
'T IS time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move:
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
2.
My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of Love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
3.
The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone[iii] 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—[iv]
Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor now
Where Glory decks the hero's bier,
Or binds his brow.
6.
The Sword, the Banner, and the Field,[vi]
Glory and Greece, around me see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
Was not more free.
7.
Awake! (not Greece—she is awake!)
Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,[vii]
And then strike home!
8.
Tread those reviving passions down,[viii]
Unworthy manhood!—unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of Beauty be.
9.
If thou regret'st thy youth, why live?
The land of honourable death
Is here:—up to the Field, and give
Away thy breath!
10.
Seek out—less often sought than found—
A soldier's grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,
And take thy Rest.