Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/304

266 And call Captivity a kindness—meant

To shield him from insanity or shame—

Such shall be his meek guerdon! who was sent

To be Christ's Laureate—they reward him well!

Florence dooms me but death or banishment,

Ferrara him a pittance and a cell,

Harder to bear and less deserved, for I

Had stung the factions which I strove to quell;

But this meek man who with a lover's eye

Will look on Earth and Heaven, and who will deign

To embalm with his celestial flattery,

As poor a thing as e'er was spawned to reign,

What will he do to merit such a doom?

Perhaps he'll love—and is not Love in vain

Torture enough without a living tomb?

Yet it will be so—he and his compeer,

The Bard of Chivalry, will both consume

In penury and pain too many a year,

And, dying in despondency, bequeath

To the kind World, which scarce will yield a tear,

A heritage enriching all who breathe

With the wealth of a genuine Poet's soul,

And to their country a redoubled wreath,

Unmatched by time; not Hellas can unroll

Through her Olympiads two such names, though one

Of hers be mighty;—and is this the whole

Of such men's destiny beneath the Sun?