Should my early life seem,
(As well it might,) a dream--
Yet I build no faith upon
The king Napoleon--
I look not up afar
To my destiny in a star:
In parting from you now
Thus much I will avow--
There are beings, and have been
Whom my spirit had not seen
Had I let them pass me by
With a dreaming eye--
If my peace had flown away
In a night--or in a day--
In a vision--or in none--
Is it the less gone?--
I am standing 'mid the roar
Of a weather-beaten shore,
And I hold within my hand
Some particles of sand--
How few! and how they creep
Thro' my fingers to the deep!
My early hopes? no--they
Went gloriously away,
Like lightning from the sky
At once--and so will I.
So young? ah! no--not now--
Thou hast not seen my brow,
But they tell me I am proud--
They lie--they lie aloud--
My bosom beats with shame
At the paltriness of name
With which they dare combine
A feeling such as mine--
Nor Stoic? I am not:
In the terror of my lot
I laugh to think how poor
That pleasure "to endure!"
What! shade of Zeno!--I!
Endure!--no--no--defy.
(1829)