Must thou go, my glorious Chief, <br />Sever'd from thy faithful few? <br />Who can tell thy warrior's grief, <br />Maddening o'er that long adieu? <br />Woman's love, and friendship's zeal, <br />Dear as both have been to me <br />What are they to all I feel, <br />With a soldier's faith for thee? <br /> <br />Idol of the soldier's soul! <br />First in fight, but mightiest now; <br />Many could a world control; <br />Thee alone no doom can bow. <br />By thy side for years I dared <br />Death; and envied those who fell, <br />When their dying shout was heard, <br />Blessing him they served so well. <br /> <br />Would that I were cold with those, <br />Since this hour I live to see; <br />When the doubts of coward foes <br />Scarce dare trust a man with thee, <br />Dreading each should set thee free! <br />Oh! although in dungeons pent, <br />All their chains were light to me, <br />Gazing on thy soul unbent. <br /> <br />Would the sycophants of him <br />Now so deaf to duty's prayer, <br />Were his borrow'd glories dim, <br />In his native darkness share? <br />Were that world this hour his own, <br />All thou calmly dost resign, <br />Could he purchase with that throne <br />Hearts like those which still are thine? <br /> <br />My chief, my king, my friend, adieu! <br />Never did I droop before; <br />Never to my sovereign sue, <br />As his foes I now implore: <br />All I ask is to divide <br />Every peril he must brave; <br />Sharing by the hero's side <br />His fall, his exile, and his grave.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-from-the-french/
