When We Two Parted”
“Fare Thee Well!” “To the Po” “Missalonghi
When We Two parted is a
typical example of a short poem of Lord Byron. The poem is divided
into 4 stanzas, each with 8 lines. as The poem opens, the narrator
describes his separation from the person the poem is directed to.
Given Byron’s lifestyle, and the biographical notes on this
poem, it can be assumed that this poem was directed to one of Byron’s
short lived romantic partners, in this case, Lady Frances Webster. He
describes how bitter the separation was, how long it lasted, and how
the separation affected his perception of her. In the second stanza,
the narrator moves to a more abstract image: he describes how his
cold environment affected him and foretold the coldness of his heart.
Near the end of this stanza, the narrator says “I hear thy name
spoken / And share in its shame.” The American heritage
dictionary defines shame as a feeling of “guilt, embarrassment,
unworthiness, or disgrace.” Without delving entirely into the
extra textual information surrounding this poem, the reader can
assume the narrator calls her name “shamed” and shares
that emotion because of their romantic involvement. Next he poet
describes how her name is like the ring of a bell, a knell, to him,
and that each time her hears her name he shudders and wonders how she
became so dear to him. The narrator describes how those who “knew
thee too well”, do not know that Byron knew her. His regret for
having become involved with her is too deep for him to express.
Finally, the poet describes how during their relationship they met in
secret and alone, and now, in grief, he is also alone and silent. He
mourns that her heart turned from him while he still loved her and
concludes by saying that he has been so hurt that if he were to ever
meet her again, he would not greet her fondly, but would greet her
with “silence and tears”.
The poem “Fare
Thee Well” is another typical poem of Lord Byron. This time,
literary critics accept that the poem is not about an illicit affair,
but about his wife. Byron married Annabella Milbanke, in 1815. But
one year later, and after having a child on they were separated and
eventually divorced. The narrator opens by bidding the reader
(Annabella) farewell, not just temporarily, but a resonantly
permanent farewell. The narrator talks of how if she were completely
exposed to him, she would understand it would not be pleasant for him
to spurn it (as, it is implied, she has to his bared feelings) The
next line requires some biographical information to understand:
“Though the world for this commend thee— / Though it
smile upon the blow.” When Byron and his wife separated, their
friends and even the public took her side, even though Byron clearly
believed he had been the one wronged by her. The narrator continues
on to describe how no other hands could inflict such unending pain
than the ones “which once embraced me.” – In other
words, no one could hurt him like Annabella. In the following stanza
the narrator admonishes her, reminding her that love can fade and
decay, but she is believing a lie if she believes sudden separation
with quench love, “But by sudden wrench, believe not / Hearts
can thus be torn away”. He continues on to describe how he will
live, though damaged is his heart at the thought they will never
again meet.
He describes how his
words, words of love lost, are greater than the wail of mourning, and
discusses how though he will live, every day he will wake as if he
had been widowed. The focus shifts in the next stanza, when he
focuses on their daughter and asks, “Wilt
thou teach her to say ‘Father!’” even though she
will not know him. He asks if her love will make Annabelle miss him
and then continues on to describe how wherever she goes she will take
the intimate knowledge of his hopes, his faults, his madness with
her. He describes how his pride is broken and now that their
separation. divorce is complete, words are useless, especially words
from him. Although words may be useless, he says, thoughts can’t
be stopped, thoughts cannot be controlled by the mind. Thus, he ends,
“Fare thee well!” describing how she is torn from him,
disunited, and left his heart injured and alone and that if anything
else were to happen to him, he would surely die.
The Po River runs
across the northern part of Italy from the Alps to the Adriatic Sea,
the lady in the poem is Countess Teresa Guiccioli, wife of Count
Alessandro Guiccioli. Lord Byron met her in Venice in 1819 and
fell madly in love. A short time later, she returned to her
home in Ravenna and Byron composed Stanzas To The Po. Teresa
left her husband for Byron, and finally, would be his last
attachment. The poem begins like an ode to the river, but the river
use used only to illuminate the woman he loves as she walks by the
river and thinks of Byron. Byron supposes what it would be like if
the river reflected himself and when she looked into the river, she
could know Byron intimately.
What do I say
-a mirror of my heart? Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and
strong? Such as my feelings were and are, thou art; And such as
thou art were my passions long.
Time may have somewhat tamed
them, -not for ever; Thou overflow'st thy banks, and not for
aye The bosom overboils, congenial river! Thy floods subside,
and mine have sunk away.
But left long wrecks behind, and
now again, Born in our old unchanged career, we move; Thou
tendest wildly onwards to the main, And I -to loving one I should
not love.
The current I behold will sweep beneath Her
native walls and murmur at her feet; Her eyes will look on thee,
when she shall breathe The twilight air, unharmed by summer's
heat.
She will look on thee, -I have looked on thee, Full
of that thought; and, from that moment, ne'er Thy waters could I
dream of, name, or see, Without the inseparable sigh for her!
Her
bright eyes will be imaged in thy stream, - Yes! they will meet
the wave I gaze on now: Mine cannot witness, even in a dream, That
happy wave repass me in its flow!
The wave that bears my tears
returns no more: Will she return by whom that wave shall
sweep? Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy shore, I by thy
source, she by the dark-blue deep.
But that which keepeth us
apart is not Distance, nor depth of wave, nor space of earth, But
the distraction of a various lot, As various as the climates of
our birth.
A stranger loves the lady of the land, Born far
beyond the mountains, but his blood Is all meridian, as if never
fanned By the black wind that chills the polar flood.
My
blood is all meridian; were it not, I had not left my clime, nor
should I be, In spite of tortures, ne'er to be forgot, A slave
again of love, -at least of thee.
'Tis vain to struggle -let
me perish young - Live as I lived, and love as I have loved; To
dust if I return, from dust I sprung, And then, at least, my heart
can ne'er be moved.
