Analysis of To Edward Noel Long, Esq.
George Gordon Lord Byron 1788 (London) – 1824 (Missolonghi, Aetolia)
'Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico.'~Horace.
Dear Long, in this sequester'd scene,
While all around in slumber lie,
The joyous days, which ours have been
Come rolling fresh on Fancy's eye;
Thus, if, amidst the gathering storm,
While clouds the darken'd noon deform,
Yon heaven assumes a varied glow,
I hail the sky's celestial bow,
Which spreads the sign of future peace,
And bids the war of tempests cease.
Ah! though the present brings but pain,
I think those days may come again;
Or if, in melancholy mood,
Some lurking envious fear intrude,
To check my bosom's fondest thought,
And interrupt the golden dream
I crush the fiend with malice fraught,
And, still, indulge my wonted theme.
Although we ne'er again can trace,
In Granta's vale, the pedant's lore,
Nor through the groves of Ida chace
Our raptured visions, as before;
Though Youth has flown on rosy pinion,
And Manhood claims his stern dominion,
Age will not every hope destroy,
But yields some hours of sober joy.
Yes, I will hope that Time's broad wing
Will shed around some dews of spring:
But, if his scythe must sweep the flowers
Which bloom among the fairy bowers,
Where smiling Youth delights to dwell,
And hearts with early rapture swell;
In frowning Age, with cold control,
Confines the current of the soul,
Congeals the tear of Pity's eye,
Or checks the sympathetic sigh,
Or hears, unmov'd, Misfortune's groan,
And bids me feel for self alone;
Oh! may my bosom never learn
To soothe its wonted heedless flow;
Still may I rove untutor'd, wild,
But ne'er forget another's woe.
Yes, as you knew me in the days
O'er which Remembrance yet delays
And even in age, at heart a child.
Though, now, on airy visions borne,
To you my soul is still the same.
Oft has it ben my fate to mourn,
And all my former joys are tame:
But, hence! ye hours of sabl hue!
Your frowns are gone, my sorrows o'er:
By every bliss my childhood knew,
I'll think upon your shade no more.
Thus, when the whirlwind's rage is past,
And caves their sullen roar enclose,
We heed no more the wintery blast,
When lull'd by zephyr to repose.
Full often has my infant Muse
Attun'd to love her languid lyre;
But, now, without a theme to choose,
The strains in stolen sighs expire.
My youthful nymps, alas! are flown;
E — is a wife, and C — a mother,
And Carolina sighs alone,
And Mary's given to another;
And Cora's eye, which roll'd on me,
Can now no more my love recall -
In truth, dear LONG, 'twas time to flee -
For Cora's eye will shine on all.
And though the Sun, with genial rays,
His beams aike to all displays,
And every lady's eye's a sun,
These last should be confin'd to one.
The souls' meridian don't become her,
Whose sun desplays a general summer!
Thus faint is every former flame,
And Passion's self is now a name;
As, when the ebbing flames are low,
The aid which once improv'd their light,
And bade them burn with fiercer glow,
Now quenches all their sparks in night;
Thus has it been with Passion's fires,
As many a boy and girl remembers,
While all the force of love expires,
Extinguish'd with the dying embers.
But now, dear LONG, 'tis midnight's noon,
And clouds obscure the watery moon,
Whose beauties I shall not rehearse,
Describ'd in every stripling's verse;
For why should I the path go o'er
Which every bard has trod before?
Yet ere yon silver lamp of night
Has thrice perform'd her stated round,
Has thrice retraced her path of light,
And chased away the gloom profound,
I trust that we, my gentle Friend,
Shall see her rolling orbit wend,
Above the dear-loved peaceful seat,
Which once contain'd our youth's retreat;
And then, with those our childhood knew,
We'll mingle in the festive crew;
While many a tale of former day
Shall wing the laughing hours away;
And all the flow of souls shall pour
Tha sacred intellectual shower,
Nor cease, till Luna's waning horn
Scarce glimmers through the mist of Morn.
Scheme | X XAXABBCXDDXXEEFGFGHIHIJJKKLLMMNNOOAAPPXCQCRRQ STSTUVUIWXWX YZYZPVPV1 2 1 2 RRJJVVTTC3 C3 MMMM 4 4 5 5 VI3 6 3 6 7 7 8 8 UU9 9 IVSS |
---|---|
Poetic Form | |
Metre | 110111110 11010101 11010101 010111011 1101111 110101001 1101011 110010101 11010101 11011101 0101111 11010111 11111101 1101001 110100101 1111101 0010101 11011101 0101111 1110111 011011 11011101 10110101 111111010 01111010 111100101 111101101 11111111 11011111 111111010 110101010 11010111 01110101 01011101 1010101 101111 1100101 110111 01111101 11110101 111111 111111 11010101 11111001 101010101 010011101 11110101 11111101 11111111 01110111 11110111 111111010 11001111 11011111 1101111 01110101 1111011 11110101 11011101 01110101 11010111 01010101 11010111 110101010 0010101 010101010 01011111 1111111 01111111 11011111 01011101 1111101 010010101 11110111 0101001010 111010010 111100101 0111101 11010111 01110111 01111101 11011101 11111110 1100101010 110111010 010101010 1111111 010101001 11011101 01010011 111101110 110011101 11110111 11010101 11010111 01010101 11111101 11010101 01011101 110110101 01111011 11000101 110011101 110101001 01011111 110010010 1111101 11010111 |
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 3,774 |
Words | 697 |
Sentences | 23 |
Stanzas | 5 |
Stanza Lengths | 1, 45, 12, 28, 22 |
Lines Amount | 108 |
Letters per line (avg) | 28 |
Words per line (avg) | 6 |
Letters per stanza (avg) | 598 |
Words per stanza (avg) | 139 |
Font size:
Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on March 05, 2023
- 3:41 min read
- 42 Views
Citation
Use the citation below to add this poem analysis to your bibliography:
Style:MLAChicagoAPA
"To Edward Noel Long, Esq." Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem-analysis/15272/to-edward-noel-long%2C-esq.>.
Discuss this George Gordon Lord Byron poem analysis with the community:
Report Comment
We're doing our best to make sure our content is useful, accurate and safe.
If by any chance you spot an inappropriate comment while navigating through our website please use this form to let us know, and we'll take care of it shortly.
Attachment
You need to be logged in to favorite.
Log In