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George Gordon Byron - Stanzas To A Lady, On Leaving England
Work rating: Medium

`Tis done -- and shivering in the gale
The bark unfurls her snowy sail;
And whistling o`er the bending mast,
Loud sings on high the fresh`ning blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.

But could I be what I have been,
And could I see what I have seen--
Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest--
I should not seek another zone,
Because I cannot love but one.

`Tis long since I beheld that eye
Which gave me bliss or misery;
And I have striven, but in vain,
Never to think of it again:
For though I fly from Albion,
I still can only love but one.

As some lone bird, without a mate,
My weary heart is desolate;
I look around, and cannot trace
One friendly smile or welcome face,
And ev`n in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.

And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
Till I forget a false fair face,
I ne`er shall find a resting-place;
My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,
But ever love, and love but one.

The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
Where Friendship`s or Love`s softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or leman I have none,`
Because I cannot love but one.

I go---but wheresoe`er I flee
There`s not an eye will weep for me;
There`s not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,
Wilt sigh, although I love but one.

To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we`ve been,
Would whelm some softer hearts with woe--
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.

And who that dear lov`d one may be,
Is not for vulgar eyes to see;
And why that early love was cross`d,
Thou know`st the best, I feel the most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun
Have loved so long, and loved but one.

I`ve tried another`s fetters too,
With charms perchance as fair to view;
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell
Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.

`Twould soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
Yet wish I not those eyes to weep
For him that wanders o`er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one.
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