Start not--nor deem my spirit fled:
In me behold the only skull
From which, unlike a living head,
Whatever flows is never dull.
I lived, I loved, I quaffed like thee;
I died: let earth my bones resign:
Fill up--thou canst not injure me;
The worm hath fouler lips than thine.
Better to hold the sparkling grape
Than nurse the earthworm's slimy brood,
And circle in the goblet's shape
The drink of gods than reptile's food.
Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,
In aid of others' let me shine;
And when, alas! our brains are gone,
What nobler substitute than wine?
Quaff while thou canst; another race,
When thou and thine like me are sped,
May rescue thee from earth's embrace,
And rhyme and revel with the dead.
Why not--since through life's little day
Our heads such sad effects produce?
Redeemed from worms and wasting clay,
This chance is theirs to be of use.
Newstead Abbey, 1808.
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Comments
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What thoughts flow when one reads these words.
The truth is he has such a view of things that some forget and look at the words, and not the meanings.
In this, the thoughts of what comes from within the head, then to become eventually worms food one day, is so amazing in the depth of thought of what can be achieved.
But also to Byron's grace was his sence of humor, which is one thing that kept him going through out his life.
A wonderful piece! -
I love this poem. Very funny, and yet its pretty sick, isn't it :-P One of my favorites.
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