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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396105" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Farewell To The Muse</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days,<br>Young offspring of Fancy, 'tis time we should part;<br>Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays,<br>The coldest effusion which springs from my heart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This bosom, responsive to rapture no more,<br>Shall hush thy wild notes, nor implore thee to sing;<br>The feelings of childhood, which taught thee to soar,<br>Are wafted far distant on Apathy's wing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Though simple the themes of my rude flowing Lyre,<br>Yet even these themes are departed for ever;<br>No more beam the eyes which my dream could inspire,<br>My visions are flown, to return, alas, never!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">When drain'd is the nectar which gladdens the bowl,<br>How vain is the effort delight to prolong!<br>When cold is the beauty which dwelt in my soul,<br>What magic of Fancy can lengthen my song?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can the lips sing of Love in the desert alone,<br>Of kisses and smiles which they now must resign?<br>Or dwell with delight on the hours that are flown?<br>Ah, no! for those hours can no longer be mine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can they speak of the friends that I lived but to love?<br>Ah, surely Affection ennobles the strain!<br>But how can my numbers in sympathy move,<br>When I scarcely can hope to behold them again?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Can I sing of the deeds which my Fathers have done,<br>And raise my loud harp to the fame of my Sires?<br>For glories like theirs, oh, how faint is my tone!<br>For Heroes' exploits how unequal my fires!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Untouch'd, then, my Lyre shall reply to the blast--<br>'Tis hush'd; and my feeble endeavors are o'er;<br>And those who have heard it will pardon the past,<br>When they know that its murmurs shall vibrate no more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And soon shall its wild erring notes be forgot,<br>Since early affection and love is o'ercast:<br>Oh! blest had my Fate been, and happy my lot,<br>Had the first strain of love been the dearest, the last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Farewell, my young Muse! since we now can ne'er meet;<br>If our songs have been languid, they surely are few:<br>Let us hope that the present at least will be sweet--<br>The present--which seals our eternal Adieu.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396105" data-title="Farewell To The Muse de Byron" data-description="Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days,
Young offspring of Fancy, 'tis time we should part;
Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays,
The coldest effusion which springs from my heart.

This bosom, responsive to rapture no more,..."></div>
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