“So we’ll go no more a roving” is another one of Byron’s shorter poems that piqued my interest as I thumbed through the book. One of the reasons that this poem interested me was not only for its shortness compared to his other works, but because of its tone of resignation. “So we’ll go no more a roving” seemingly proclaims the end of a wild, youthful phase. It announces that the speaker will stop “roving”–seeking pleasure–late into the night because they feel worn out and tired. The poem contains undertones of regret as the speaker reflects both on their lingering lust for life and on their physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion. The speaker references to “the soul wear[ing] out the breast,” evoking a sense of spiritual fatigue. It may even suggest the speaker’s awareness of their own mortality as souls exit the body upon death. The speaker then references an emotional fatigue as they state that “the heart must pause to breathe.” The usage of “pause” raises the possibility that this rest may only be temporary. The speaker’s praise for the pleasures of “the night” adds shades of doubt to their insistence that they will not be “roving” anymore. The speaker’s wistful tone creates a sense of admission that they believe that the night is still inherently enticing. This creates a conflict between expectations of maturity and the speaker’s true desires. The poem captures a transitional phase between the end of youth and the beginning of maturity, whether that maturity is embraced or not. Another aspect that makes this poem interesting is the fact that Byron himself lived fast and died young. In this way, the poem seems to be Byron’s acknowledgment of his “roving” and pleasure seeking behavior, admitting that he needs to put the breaks on his youthful endeavors.
So, we’ll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
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.
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.
