LORD Byron the scandalous, the satirical, the iconoclastic here shows himself at his most tender and elegiac in this short poem about the finite nature of circumstance and emotion.

SO, WE'LL GO NO MORE A ROVING

I

So, we'll go no more a roving

So late into the night,

Thou the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright.

II

For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself have rest.

III

Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,

Yet we'll go no more a roving

By the light of the moon.