Non Sum Qualis Eram
Bonae sub Regno Cynarae
(I am not as I was under the reign of the
good Cynara - Horace)
Ernest Christopher
Dowson - 1867 - 1900
LAST night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her
lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath
was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the
wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old
passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my
fashion.
All night upon mine
heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine
arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of
her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and
sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful
to you, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much,
Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses
riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy
pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and
sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was
long;
I have been faithful
to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder
music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is
finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow,
Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and
sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire: