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There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar:
I love not Man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,

To mingle with the Universe, and feel

What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal.

(Childe Harold.)

So hat es für ihn besonderen Reiz, fern von menschlichen Wohnstätten zu träumen, unbegangene Pfade zu wandeln, an Orten zu weilen, die der menschliche Fuß selten betritt. Hier ist er nicht allein und einsam; aber einsam und verlassen fühlt er sich im Gedränge und Getriebe der Menschen, die sich um das Wohl und Wesen des einzelnen so wenig kümmern:

To sit on rocks, to muse o'er flood and fell,

To slowly trace the forests shady scene,

Where things that own not man's dominion dwell,

And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;

To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;

Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;

This is not solitude; 'tis but to hold

Converse with Natures charms, and view her stores unroll'd.

But 'midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,

To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the world's tired denizen,

With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress!
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,

If we were not, would seem to smile the less

Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!

(Childe Harold.)

Dieser Zug zur Einsamkeit, die Flucht vor den Menschen, die den Dichter in den Staub niederziehen, wenn seine Seele sich über alles Enge und Niedere des Erdendaseins in kühnem Fluge erheben will, diese Art von Übermenschentum, das sich selbst genug ist, das nur in seiner eigenen Atmosphäre atmen kann, auf die übrige Menschheit deshalb auch herabsieht und jede Gemeinschaft mit ihr verleugnen möchte, eine Gesinnung, die schließlich zu Menschenverachtung und Menschenhaß führen muß das ist auch in Byrons Manfred ausgesprochen, wenn dieser sich vernehmen läßt:

I said, with men, and with the thoughts of men.

I held but slight communion; but, instead,

My joy was in the wilderness, to breathe

The difficult air of the iced mountain's top,
Where the birds dare not build, nor insects wing
Flit o'er the herbless granite; or to plunge
Into the torrent, and to roll along

On the swift whirl of the new-breaking wave
Of river-stream, or ocean, in their flow.
In these my early strength exulted; or
To follow through the night the moving moon,
The stars and their development; or catch
The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim;
Or to look, list'ning, on the scatter'd leaves,
While Autumn winds were at their evening song.
These were my pastimes, and to be alone;
For if the beings, of whom I was one, ---

Hating to be so, crossed me in my path,

I felt myself degraded back to them,

And was all clay again.

Haben wir bisher die allgemeine Richtung des Naturgefühls bei Byron anzudeuten versucht, das einen stark subjektivistischen Charakter mit einem erheblichen Einschlag von Pessimismus aufweist, während es zugleich eine begeisterte Liebe zu den gewaltigen Werken der Schöpfung kundgibt, so wollen wir nun die Byronschen Dichtungen in ihren einzelnen Beziehungen zu den besonderen Naturerscheinungen ins Auge fassen.

Die früh geahnte Erkenntnis, daß die Menschen in bedeutungsvollem Sinne Kinder der Sonne sind, der unsere Erde das mannigfaltige Leben auf ihr verdankt, hat nicht bloß in den ältesten Religionen und Mythen, sondern ebenso in den Dichtungen aller Zeiten ihren poetischen Niederschlag gefunden.

Auch Byron bringt das bald scheue, bald begeisterte Gefühl der Bewunderung, mit dem das leuchtende Tagesgestirn, dessen Wesen so geheimnisvoll ist, den Menschen erfüllt, vielfach zum Ausdruck. So apostrophiert Manfred die scheidende Sonne, nachdem er den Entschluß gefaßt hat, seinem Dasein ein Ende zu machen, mit den Worten:

Glorious Orb! the idol

Of early nature, and the vigorous race
Of undiseased mankind, the giant sons

Of the embrace of angels with a sex

More beautiful than they, which did draw down

The erring spirits, who can ne'er return.

Most glorious orb! that wert a worship, ere

The mystery of thy making was reveal'd!

Thou earliest minister of the Almighty,

Which gladden'd, on their mountain tops, the hearts
Of the Chaldean shepherds, till they pour'd

Themselves in orisons! Thou material God!

And representative of the Unknown

Who chose thee for His shadow! Thou chief star!
Centre of many stars! which mak'st our earth
Endurable, and temperest the hues

And hearts of all who walk within thy rays!
Sire of the seasons! Monarch of the climes,
And those who dwell in them! for near or far,
Our inborn spirits have a tint af thee,
Even as our outward aspects;
And shine, and set in glory.
I ne'er shall see thee more.

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thou dost rise,

Fare thee well!

As my first glance

Of love and wonder was for thee, then take

My latest look; thou wilt not beam on one

To whom the gifts of life and warmth have been

Of a more fatal nature. He is gone:

I follow.

Das glänzende Licht und Farbenspiel, welches das Erscheinen der Sonne begleitet, die wundervollen Beleuchtungseffekte auf den Wolken am Himmel, wie sie der wechselvolle Kampf zwischen Licht und Finsternis hervorbringt, bald an wild zerrissene schneebedeckte Gebirge, bald an die lebhaft bewegten Wogen des Meeres erinnernd, die Wirkungen auf den Beschauer, der das gewaltige Schauspiel am Himmel in Beziehung setzt zu den Ereignissen auf der Erde dies findet sich ausgesprochen in Byrons Sardanapal:

How beautiful in heaven!

Though varied with a transitory storm,

More beautiful in that variety!

How hideous upon earth! where peace and hope,
And love and revel, in an hour were trampled

-

By human passions to a human chaos,
Not yet resolved to separate elements
'Tis warring still! And can the sun so rise,
So bright, so rolling back the clouds into
Vapours more lovely than the unclouded sky,
With golden pinnacles, and snowy mountains,
And billows purpler than the ocean's, making
In heaven a glorious mockery of the earth,
So like we almost deem it permanent;
So fleeting, we can scarcely call it aught
Beyond a vision, 'tis so transiently
Scatter'd along the eternal vault: and yet
It dwells upon the soul, and soothes the soul,

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Das sieghafte Hervorbrechen des Tagesgestirns, vor dem die Nebel weichen und die Sterne verblassen, bis alles im Sonnenlicht flutet, schildert der Dichter im Mazeppa:

Some streaks announced the coming sun

How slow, alas! he came!

Methought that mist of dawning grey
Would never dapple into day;

How heavily it roll'd away

Before the eastern flame

Rose crimson, and deposed the stars,

And call'd the radiance from their cars,

And fill'd the earth, from his deep throne.

With lonely lustre, all his own.

Auch die lebende Kreatur begrüßt den Aufgang der Sonne; mit ihr erwacht auch der Mensch zu neuem Leben und zu freudiger Betätigung seiner Kräfte:

't is, no doubt, a sight to see when breaks
Bright Phoebus, while the mountains still are wet
With mist, and every bird with him awakes,
And night is flung off like a mourning suit
Worn for a husband, or some other brute.
I say, the sun is a most glorious sight,
I've seen him rise full oft, indeed of late

I have sat up on purpose all the night,
Which hastens, as physicians say, one's fate;
And so all ye, who would be in the right

In health and purse, begin your day to date

From daybreak, and when coffin'd at fourscore,

Engrave upon the plate, you rose at four. (Don Juan.)

Die durch Regengewölk in bleichem Licht blinkende Sonne ist dem Dichter das Bild der Erinnerung, welche die glänzenden Bilder der Vergangenheit verblaßter in die Gegenwart zurückruft:

As when through clouds that pour the summer storm,

The orb of day unveils his distant form,

Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain,
And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain;
Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams,
The sun of memory, glowing through my dreams,
Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze,
To scenes far distant points his paler rays:

Still rules my senses with unbounded sway,

The past confounding with the present day. (Hours of Idleness)

Die glühende Farbenpracht des Sonnenuntergangs in südlichen Breiten unter blauem Himmel am Gestade Griechenlands tritt uns entgegen in The Curse of Minerva“:

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Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run

Along Morea's hills the setting sun;

Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,
But one unclouded blaze of living light;

O'er the hush'd deep the yellow beam he throws,
Gilds the green wave that trembles as it glows,
On old Aegina's rock and Hydra's isle
The god of gladness sheds his parting smile;
O'er his own regions lingering loves to shine
Though there his altars are no more divine.
Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss
Thy glorious gulf, unconquer'd Salamis!
Their azure arches through the long expanse,
More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance
And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,
Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven;
Till darkly shaded from the land and deep,
Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep.

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