Monday, 3 January 2011

Byron: Joan Baez or Leonard Cohen?



 Two fine interpretations of a Byron poem



Not sure what to make of this setting of another Byron lyric 

Here's the text of his last poem, a poem that Yannis Ritsos read in Greek translation, at my request, in 1984


ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR

      'IS time the heart should be unmoved,
      Since others it hath ceased to move:
      Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
      Still let me love!
       
      My days are in the yellow leaf;
      The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
      The worm, the canker, and the grief
      Are mine alone!
       
      The fire that on my bosom preys
      Is lone as some volcanic isle;
      No torch is kindled at its blaze--
      A funeral pile.
       
      The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
      The exalted portion of the pain
      And power of love, I cannot share,
      But wear the chain.
       
      But 'tis not thus--and 'tis not here--
      Such thoughts should shake my soul nor now,
      Where glory decks the hero's bier,
      Or binds his brow.
       
      The sword, the banner, and the field,
      Glory and Greece, around me see!
      The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
      Was not more free.
       
      Awake! (not Greece--she is awake!)
      Awake, my spirit! Think through whom
      Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
      And then strike home!
       
      Tread those reviving passions down,
      Unworthy manhood!--unto thee
      Indifferent should the smile or frown
      Of beauty be.
       
      If thou regrett'st thy youth, why live?
      The land of honourable death
      Is here:--up to the field, and give
      Away thy breath!
       
      Seek out--less often sought than found--
      A soldier's grave, for thee the best;
      Then look around, and choose thy ground,
      And take thy rest.

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