_Lermontoff, being reproached by the critics of his time for imitation
of Byron in this poem, defended himself by the following, "I am not
Byron!"_




I AM NOT BYRON

I am not Byron--yet I am
One fore-elected, yet one more
Unknown, world-hunted wanderer,
A Russian in my mood and mind.

Scant from my seed the corn was ripe,
My mouth spoke young, was early hushed;
In depths of my own soul, the wreck
Of hope lies as in deep-sea sunk.

Who shall the counsels of the sea,
Its awe sublime unloose? Who shall
Read clear my spirit and my soul?
Unless it be a Poet--no man!

LERMONTOFF.