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about
Claire Clairmont was Mary Shelley's stepsister.
She accompanied Mary and Percy Shelley on their European elopement, but she was definitely the "lemon" of this strange ménage a trois. She tried to sneak her way into Percy Shelley's affections....
... but having (probably?) failed, she threw herself into the arms of George Gordon Byron. Byron left England shortly after, headed for Geneva's Shore: the Shelleys and the pregnant Claire followed, to continue her pursuit of Byron. In January 1817, a daughter was born, whom Claire named Alba (a feminine form of Byron's pet name, Albee, or L.B.?). There ensued a nasty custody battle which Byron, the father, won (as was customary at that time). Having gained Alba, Byron decided he really couldn't be doing with a child - he renamed her Allegra and put her in the care of a convent in Ravenna. Alba died there a few years later.
An older and wiser Claire disappeared to Russia, to work as a governess.
lyrics
In Clairmont’s face, a power like light doth lie
Byron’s damned bitch – with dark and damning eye.
Alas torn heart can bleed but not forget;
Attract and yet repulse – fierce and beautiful comet
Alba. Alba Come home. My commodore. My comet’s halo.
Alba. Alba. Come quick from Italy
In an unmarked grave be laid low.
Alba, my commodore. My comet’s halo.
Allegra, Byron’s daughter, we tend to forget she had a mother.
Her name was once Alba – a wholly other child.
She would have been loved and cherished – never sent
To die alone in a Ravenna Capuchin convent.
Alba. Alba Come home. My commodore. My comet’s halo.
Alba. Alba. Come quick from Italy
For I feel Russia’s winter calling me
Alba, my commodore. My comet’s halo.
And she’d scramble yet 400 miles,
And walk 400 more likewise,
To plague Lord Byron’s gilted door;
To accuse and unphilosophise.
What shall poor Cordelia do? But wait
And love and hold her tongue and brew such hate
As would buffet down the years. An eternal font
Of retribution from the Little Fiend, Claire Clairmont.
The circumstances of first glances
Or a favoured handshake can change the landscape
To be totally fair, when I first noticed her there,
I was more aware of the stare than the clothes and the hair
‘Cos when she smiles, it’s with the eyes
And if she sighs the twinkle dies and shrinks inside;
But life is never that easy as a lesson to teach me
Love is ever so greedy, plus quite clever and sneaky;
But the view is dependent on the place you stand
And the day in hand it never goes the way you planned.
And it’s somewhat unfitting for such a humble beginning,
I was never sold on the notion of a stolen emotion.
The stylish kids in the riot acquired our kicks on the quiet,
If we’d the tickets to buy it, never too chicken to try it:
The first to listen, the last to leave
The plans and schemes we hatched and weaved to catch the breeze.
So, if you want to try, there’s no worse you can do and
If you’re nursing the blues, I’ll be the first in the queue.
No more a rovin’ blindly into the dark –
Let’s rewind to the start and find the kindness of the heart.
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
We'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon
Poem by Lord George Gordon Byron
credits
released June 26, 2021
A single from the Poke O'Swedgers album "Geneva's Shore"
Kev McInally: vocal
Kworyl: spoken word
Dave Banks: backing vox and guitars
Mixed and mastered by Steve Swallow
Released as Trousers! Tro-017
℗ David Banks & Kevin McInally
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