When thinking on these ancient towers, O'er fields through which we used to run, Whilst I, admiring, too remiss, Forgot to scare the hovering flies, Yet envied every fly the kiss It dared to give your slumbering eyes: See still the little painted bark, In which I row'd you o'er the lake; Without thee what will they avail? This is the deepest of our woes, For this these tears our cheeks bedew; This is of love the final close, Oh, God! the fondest, last adieu! TO M. S. G. WHENE'ER I view those lips of thine, Alas! it were unhallow'd bliss. How could I dwell upon its snows! Yet is the daring wish represt, For that would banish its repose. A glance from thy soul searching eye Can raise with hope, depress with fear; Yet I conceal my love-and why? I would not force a painful tear. I ne'er have told my love, yet thou To make thy bosom's heaven a hell? Let it consume, thou shalt not know: With joy I court a certain doom, Rather than spread its guilty glow. I will not ease my tortured heart, By driving dove-eyed peace from thine; Rather than such a sting impart, Each thought presumptuous I resign. Yes! yield those lips, for which I'd brave I bid thee now a last farewell. TO CAROLINE. THINK'ST thou I saw thy beauteous eyes, When love and hope lay both o'erthrown; Yet still, my girl, this bleeding breast Throbb'd with deep sorrow as thine own. But when our cheeks with anguish glow'd, When thy sweet lips were join'd to mine, The tears that from my eyelids flow'd Were lost in those which fell from thine. In sighs alone it breathed my name. But that will make us weep the more. Ah! if thou canst, o'ercom regret, Nor let thy mind past joys review,Our only hope is to forget! Yet still, though we bend with a feign'd resignation, Life beams not for us with one ray that can cheer; Love and hope upon earth bring no more consolation, In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear. Oh! when, my adored, in the tomb will they place me, Since, in life, love and friendship for ever are fled? It again in the mansion of death I embrace thee, Perhaps they will leave unmolested the dead. TO CAROLINE. WHEN I hear you express an affection so warm, Ne'er think, my beloved, that I do not believe; For your lip would the soul of suspicion disarm, And your eye beams a ray which can never deceive. Yet, still, this fond bosom regrets, while adoring, That love, like the leaf, must fall into the sear; That age will come on, when remembrance, deploring, Contemplates the scenes of her youth with a tear; That the time must arrive when, no longer retaining Their auburn, those locks must wave thin to the breeze, When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining, Prove nature a prey to decay and disease. 'Tis this, my beloved, which spreads gloom o'er my features, Though I ne'er shall presume to arraign the decree Which God has proclaim'd as the fate of his creatures, In the death which one day will deprive you of me. Mistake not, sweet sceptic! the cause of emotion, No doubt can the mind of your lover invade; He worships each look with such faithful devotion, A smile can enchant, or a tear can dissuade. But as death, my beloved, soon or late shall o'ertake us, And our breasts, which alive with such sympathy glow, Will sleep in the grave till the blast shall awake us, When calling the dead, in earth's bosom laid low,Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure, Which from passion like ours may unceasingly flow; Let us pass round the cup of love's bliss in full mea sure, And quaff the contents as our nectar below. 1805. STANZAS TO A LADY, (1) Lord Strangford's translations of Camoëns' Amatory Poems are mentioned by Mr. Moore as having been at this period a favourite study of Lord Byron.-L. E. (2) The latter years of Camoens present a mournful picture, not merely of individual calamity, but of national ingratitude. He whose best years had been devoted to the service of his country, he who had taught her literary fame to rival the proudest efforts of Italy itself, and who seemed born to revive the remembrance of ancient gentility and Lusian heroism, was compelled to wander through the streets, A wretched dependant on casual contribution. One friend AWAY with your fictions of flimsy romance; Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove; [prove, I hate you, ye cold compositions of art! And Eden revives in the first kiss of love. When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past For years fleet away with the wings of the doveThe dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love. FRAGMENT, WRITTEN SHORTLY AFTER THE MARRIAGE OF MISS CHAWORTH. HILLS of Annesley, bleak and barren, alone remained, to smooth his downward path, and guide his steps to the grave with gentleness and consolation. It was Antonio, his slave, a native of Java, who had accompanied Camoëns to Europe, after having rescued him from the waves, when shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This faithful attendant was wont to seek alms throughout Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of the day with his poor and broken-hearted master. But his friendship was em ployed in vain. Camoëns sank beneath the pressure of penury and disease, and died in an alms-house, early in the year 1579.-Strangford. Now no more, the hours beguiling, Former favourite haunts I see; Now no more my Mary smiling Makes ye seem a heaven to me. (1) 1805. TO THE DUKE OF DORSET.(2) DORSET! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, Exploring every path of Ida's glade; Whom still affection taught me to defend, And made me less a tyrant than a friend, Though the harsh custom of our youthful band Bade thee obey, and gave me to command; (3) Thee, on whose head a few short years will shower The gift of riches and the pride of power; E'en now a name illustrious is thine own, Renown'd in rank, not far beneath the throne. Yet, Dorset! let not this seduce thy soul To shun fair science, or evade control; Though passive tutors, (4) fearful to dispraise The titled child, whose future breath may raise, View ducal errors with indulgent eyes, And wink at faults they tremble to chastise. When youthful parasites, who bend the knee To wealth, their golden idol, not to thee,And even in simple boyhood's opening dawn Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn,When these declare, "that pomp alone should wait On one by birth predestined to be great; That books were only meant for drudging fools, That gallant spirits scorn the common rules;" Believe them not;-they point the path to shame, And seek to blast the honours of thy name. Turn to the few in Ida's early throng, Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong; Or if, amidst the comrades of thy youth, None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth, Ask thine own heart; 't will bid thee, boy, forbear; For well I know that virtue lingers there. Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day, But now new scenes invite me far away; (1) The circumstances which lent so peculiar an interest to Lord Byron's introduction to the family of Chaworth are sufficiently explained in Moore's Life. "The young lady herself combined," says the writer, "with the many worldly advantages that encircled her, much personal beauty, and a disposition the most amiable and attaching. Though already fully alive to her charms, it was at this period (1804) that the young poet seems to have drunk deepest of that fascination whose effects were to be so lasting; six short weeks which he passed in her company being sufficient to lay the foundation of a feeling for all life. With the summer holidays ended this dream of his youth. He saw Miss Chaworth once more in the succeeding year, and took his last farewell of her on that hill near Annesley, which, in his poem of The Dream, he describes so happily as 'crowned with a peculiar diadem.'" In August, 1805, she was married to John Musters, Esq.; and died at Wiverton Hall, in February, 1832, in consequence, it is believed, of the alarm and danger to which she had been exposed during the sack of Colwick Hall by a party of rioters from Nottingham. The unfortunate lady had been in a feeble state of health for several years, and she and her daughter were obliged to take shelter from the violence of the mob in a shrubbery, where, partly from cold, partly from terror, her constitution sustained a shock which it wanted vigour to resist. -L. E. (2) In looking over my papers to select a few additional poems for this second edition, I found the above lines, which I had totally forgotten, composed in the summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from Harrow. They were addressed to a young schoolfellow of high rank, who had been my frequent companion in some rambles through Yes! I have mark'd within that generous mind "T is not enough, with other sons of power, To gleam the lambent meteor of an hour; To swell some peerage page in feeble pride, With long-drawn names that grace no page beside; Then share with titled crowds the common lotIn life just gazed at, in the grave forgot; While nought divides thee from the vulgar dead, Except the dull cold stone that hides thy head, The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the herald's roll, That well-emblazon'd but neglected scroll, Where lords, unhonour'd, in the tomb may find One spot, to leave a worthless name behind; There sleep, unnoticed as the gloomy vaults That veil their dust, their follies, and their faults, A race, with old armorial lists o'erspread, In records destined never to be read. Fain would I view thee, with prophetic eyes, Exalted more among the good and wise, A glorious and a long career pursue, As first in rank, the first in talent too: Spurn every vice, each little meanness shun; Not Fortune's minion, but her noblest son. Turn to the annals of a former day; Bright are the deeds thine earlier sires display. One, though a courtier, lived a man of worth, And call'd, proud boast! the British drama forth. (5) Another view, not less renown'd for wit; Alike for courts, and camps, or senates fit; Bold in the field, and favour'd by the Nine; In every splendid part ordain'd to shine; Far, far distinguish'd from the glittering throng, The pride of princes, and the boast of song. (6) Such were thy fathers: thus preserve their name; Not heir to titles only, but to fame. the neighbouring country: however, he never saw the lines, and most probably never will. As, on a re-perusal, I found them not worse than some other pieces in the collection, I have now published them, for the first time, after a slight revision. [George-John-Frederick, fourth Duke of Dorset, born November 15, 1793. This amiable nobleman was killed by a fall from his horse, while hunting near Dublin, February 22, 1815, being on a visit at the time to his mother, the duchessdowager, and her second husband, Charles Earl of Whitworth, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.-I. E } (3) At every public school the junior boys are completely subservient to the upper forms, till they attain a seat-in the higher classes. From this state of probation, very properly, no rank is exempt; but, after a certain period, they command in turn those who succeed. (4) Allow me to disclaim any personal allusions, even the most distant. I merely mention generally what is too often the weakness of preceptors. (5) Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, created Earl of Dorset by James 1. was one of the earliest and brightest ornaments to the poetry of his country, and the first who produced a regular drama."-Anderson's Poets. (6) "Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, esteemed the most accomplished man of his day, was alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of Charles II. and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with great gallantry in the sea-fight with the Dutch in 1665; on the day previous to which he composed his celebrated song, To all you ladies now at land.' His character has been drawn in the highest colours by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve."-Anderson's Poets. The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close, Since chance has thrown us in the self-same sphere; Or hear, unless in crowds, thy well-known voice. To veil those feelings which perchance it ought; 1805. ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT WHERE are those honours, Ida! once your own, (1) "I have just been, or rather ought to be, very much shocked by the death of the Duke of Dorset. We were at school together, and there I was passionately attached to him. Since, we have never met, but once, I think, since 1805-and it would be a paltry affectation to pretend that I had any feeling for him worth the name. But there was a time in my life when this event would have broken my heart; and all I can say for it now is, that-it is not worth breaking. The recollection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not, set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands." ― Byron's Letters, 1815.-{The verses referred to were those melancholy ones, beginning, "There's not a joy the world can give, like that it takes away." -L. E. (2) In March, 1805, Dr. Drury retired from his situation of head-master at Harrow, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler. -L. E. (3) "Dr. Drury, whom I plagued sufficiently, was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father."--Diary. (4) "At Harrow I was a most unpopular boy, but led latterly, and have retained many of my school friendships, and all my dislikes except to Dr. Butler, whom I treated rebelliously, and have been sorry ever since."-Diary. Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul, He governs, sanction'd but by self-applause. GRANTA. A MEDLEY. 6. Αργυρίαις λόγχαισι μάχου καὶ πάντα κρατήσεις;" Petty and Palmerston survey; Lo! candidates and voters lie (7) All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number: A race renown'd for piety, Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber. Lord H, (8) indeed, may not demur; Fellows are sage reflecting men: They know preferment can occur But very seldom,-now and then. They know the Chancellor has got Some pretty livings in disposal: Each hopes that one may be his lot, And therefore smiles on his proposal. Now from the soporific scene I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, To view, unheeded and unseen, The studious sons of Alma Mater. The reconciliation which took place between him and Dr. Butler, before his departure for Greece, in 1809, is (says Moore)" one of those instances of placability and pliableness with which his life abounded. Not content with this private atonement to the Doctor, it was his intention, had he published another edition of the Hours of Idleness, to substitute, for the offensive verses against that gentleman, a frank avowal of the wrong he had been guilty of in giving vent to them."-L. E. (5) The Diable Boiteux of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection. (6) On the death of Mr. Pitt, in January, 1806, Lord Henry Petty and Lord Palmerston were candidates to represent the University of Cambridge in Parliament.-L. E. (7) The fourth and fifth stanzas ran, in the private vo lume, thus: "One on his power and place depends, The other on-the Lord knows what! "The first, indeed, may not demur; Fellows are sage reflecting men," etc.-L. E. (8) Edward-Harvey Hawke, third Lord Hawke.-L. E. There, in apartments small and damp, Goes late to bed, yet early rises. To scan precisely metres Attic; In solving problems mathematic: In barbarous Latin (2) doom'd to wrangle: From authors of historic use; The square of the hypothenuse.(3) Which bring together the imprudent; Who plans of reformation lay: And for the sins of others pray. Loud rings in air the chapel bell; 'Tis hush'd:-what sounds are these I hear? The organ's soft celestial swell Rolls deeply on the list'ning ear. (1) Seale's publication on Greek Metres displays considerable talent and ingenuity, but, as might be expected in so difficult a work, is not remarkable for accuracy. (2) The Latin of the schools is of the canine species, and not very intelligible. (3) The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled triangle. (4) On a saint's-day, the students wear surplices in chapel. (5) The free Grammar-school at Harrow ranks as one of the greatest schools of England, for the learned reputation of its masters, and the distinction which its scholars have obtained in the world. Its founder was John Lyon, a wealthy yeoman of Preston, in the parish of Harrow. He obtained, in the 14th year of Queen Elizabeth, an especial license for | perpetuating his benevolence by this foundation for gratuitous instruction. -Finden's Illustrations.-P. E. (6) "My school-friendships were with me passions (for I was always violent), but I do not know that there is one which has endured (to be sure some have been cut short by death) till now." Diary, 1821. In proof of the warmth and generosity of Byron's early friendships, Moore gives the following interesting anecdote. To this is join'd the sacred song, The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain; Though he who hears the music long Will never wish to hear again. Our choir would scarcely be excused, Even as a band of raw beginners; All mercy now must be refused To such a set of croaking sinners. If David, when his toils were ended, Had heard these blockheads sing before him, To us his psalms had ne'er descended, In furious mood he would have tore 'em. The luckless Israelites, when taken By some inhuman tyrant's order, Oh! had they sung in notes like these, The deuce a soul will stay to read: 1806. ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW ON THE HILL.(5) Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos.- VIRGIL. YE scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection Embitters the present, compared with the past; Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection, And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last;(6) Where fancy yet joys to retrace the resemblance Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; How welcome to me your ne'er-fading remembrance, Which rests in the bosom, though hope is denied! Again I revisit the hills where we sported, The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought; (7) "While Lord Byron and Mr. Peel were at Harrow together, a tyrant a few years older claimed a right to fag little Peel, which claim (whether rightly or wrongly I know not) Peel resisted. His resistance, however, was in vain: not only subdued him, but determined to punish the refractory slave; and proceeded to put this determination in practice by inflicting a kind of bastinado on the inner fleshy side of the boy's arm, which, during the operation, was twirled round with some degree of technical skill, to render the pain more acute. While the stripes were succeeding each other, and poor Peel writhing under them, Byron saw and felt for the misery of his friend, and although he knew that he was not strong enough to fight ..... with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous even to approach him, he advanced to the scene of action, and with a blush of rage, tears in his eyes, and a voice trembling between terror and indig. nation, asked, very humbly, if..... would be pleased to tell him how many stripes he meant to inflict? Why,' returned the executioner, you little rascal, what is that to you?' 'Because, if you please,' said Byron, holding out his arm, 'I would take half.'"-P. E. (7) "At Harrow I fought my way very fairly. I think I lost but one battle out of seven."- Diary, 1821. |