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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/15368-8.txt b/15368-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7c7bcc0 --- /dev/null +++ b/15368-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2712 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Fugitive Pieces, by George Gordon Noel Byron + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fugitive Pieces + +Author: George Gordon Noel Byron + +Release Date: March 15, 2005 [EBook #15368] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUGITIVE PIECES *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +FUGITIVE PIECES + +BY + +GEORGE GORDON NOËL BYRON + + +REPRODUCED FROM THE FIRST EDITION + + +WITH A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + +BY + +MARCEL KESSEL + + + +PUBLISHED FOR + +THE FACSIMILE TEXT SOCIETY + +BY + +COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS + +NEW YORK: MCMXXXIII + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + + +_Fugitive Pieces_, Byron's first volume of verse, was privately +printed in the autumn of 1806, when Byron was eighteen years of age. +Passages in Byron's correspondence indicate that as early as August +of that year some of the poems were in the printers' hands and that +during the latter part of August and during September the printing +was suspended in order that Byron might give his poems an "entire +new form." The new form consisted, in part, in an enlargement; for he +wrote to Elizabeth Pigot about September that he had nearly doubled +his poems "partly by the discovery of some I conceived to be lost, and +partly by some new productions." According to Moore, _Fugitive Pieces_ +was ready for distribution in November. The last poem in the volume +bears the date of November 16, 1806. + +A difficulty in supposing the date of completion of the volume to be +about November 16 is that two copies contain inscriptions in Byron's +hand with earlier dates. On the copy of the late Mr. J.A. Spoor, +of Chicago, the inscription reads: "October 21st Tuesday 1806--Haec +poemata ex dono sunt--Georgii Gordon Byron, Vale." That on the +copy in the Morgan library reads: "Nov. 8, 1806, H.P.E.D.S.G.G.B., +Southwell.--Vale!--Byron," the initials evidently standing for the +Latin words of the preceding inscription. The Latin "Vale" in each +inscription, however, suggests that it commemorates a leave-taking, +the date referring not to the presentation but to the farewell. + +It has been suggested that copies of the volume were distributed +earlier than November and that some of the poems, printed separately +and distributed in fly-leaf form, were added later. This would explain +such discrepancies as the early dates of the inscriptions, and the +presence of Byron's name on pages 46 and 48 in a volume otherwise +anonymous, but there is little evidence to support it. + +Moore's account of _Fugitive Pieces_ is that it was distributed in +November, Byron presenting the first copy to the Reverend J.T. Becher, +prebendary of Southwell minster, who objected to what he considered +the too voluptuous coloring of the poem "To Mary." The objection led +Byron to suppress the edition immediately, he himself burning nearly +every copy. This account is corroborated in part by Miss Pigot and in +part by Byron. + +Immediately after the destruction, Byron began the preparation of a +second volume, to replace _Fugitive Pieces_. This appeared in January, +1807, as _Poems on Various Occasions_, Byron describing it as "vastly +correct and miraculously chaste." Of the 38 poems that constitute +_Fugitive Pieces_, all except "To Mary," "To Caroline," and the last +six stanzas of "To Miss E.P." were reprinted in _Poems on Various +Occasions_. Nineteen of the original 38 poems occur in Byron's third +work, _Hours of Idleness_, published in June or July, 1807. All three +editions were printed by S. and J. Ridge, booksellers of Newark, +England. + +Byron himself never reprinted the poems "To Mary" or "To Caroline," or +the last six stanzas of "To Miss E.P." Except in a limited facsimile +of _Fugitive Pieces_, supervised by H. Buxton Forman in 1886, "To +Mary" has never been reprinted--not even in supposedly complete +editions of Byron's works. + +Only four copies of _Fugitive Pieces_ are known to-day, and one of +these is incomplete. The copy from which the present facsimile is made +was originally given by Byron to Becher and preserved by him in spite +of his objections to the poem "To Mary." From Becher's family it +passed into the possession of Mr. Faulkner, of Louth, solicitor for +the Becher family. In 1885 it was in the possession of H.W. Ball, +antiquary and bookseller of Barton-on-Humber, who sold it to H. Buxton +Forman. Forman used it for his facsimile, but incorporated certain +manuscript corrections of the original, so that his facsimile is not +exact. The original is now owned by Mr. Thomas J. Wise, who has kindly +permitted its use for the present facsimile. + +Of the other three copies, the incomplete one, lacking pages 17-20 +("To Mary") and all after page 58, is in the possession of the family +of the late Mr. H.C. Roe, of Nottingham. This was originally sent by +Byron to Pigot, then studying medicine in Edinburgh. Byron later asked +Pigot to destroy the copy and Pigot seems to have complied so far +as to tear out the offending verses "To Mary." For many years it was +thought that only the Pigot and Becher copies had escaped destruction +at Byron's hands. But another complete copy came to light in 1907 +and is now in the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York. This contains +numerous manuscript corrections and alterations, and seems to have +been used as a proof copy for _Poems on Various Occasions_ (not, as +has sometimes been stated, for _Hours of Idleness_). A fourth copy, +also complete, was offered at public sale in 1912, and is now in the +hands of the executors of the late Mr. J.A. Spoor, of Chicago. + +The present facsimile is an exact photographic reproduction of the +text with all typographical and other errors as in the original, +except that certain manuscript corrections which appear in the +original perforce appear in the photographic reproduction, as follows: + + Page 3, _To E_.... line 2. "me" has been inserted by hand. + + Page 8, stanza 5, line 2. A letter ("s"?) has been erased + between "so" and "oft," and + the second "e" of "meets" has + been inserted to replace "l." + + Page 14, line 10. "j" in "jargon" has been + inserted by hand. + + Page 19, stanza (11), line 1. "night" was originally printed + "might," the "m" later changed + to "n" by erasure. + + Page 24, stanza 4, line 4. "s" in "setting" has been + inserted by hand. + + Page 25, _Thoughts Suggested by_ "e" in "tremble" has been + _a College Examination_, inserted, correcting "trimble." + line 4. + + Page 31, line 4. "f" in "fast" was originally + "l," but was changed by hand. + +The text has been collated with that in the Morgan library, and +except for later corrections made in ink in the Morgan copy, the only +differences noted are as follows: + + 1.) On p. 5, in the first line of the footnote, the Morgan + copy reads "piece" where the Wise copy reads "p*ece," the + "[dotless i]" lacking. + + 2.) The two pages of signature M are incorrectly numbered in + the Wise copy as "41, 41," this copy having no page numbered + 42; and are incorrectly numbered in the Morgan copy as "40, + 42," the latter copy having no page numbered 41. The text of + these pages is identical. + +M.K. + + + + +_FUGITIVE PIECES._ + + + + +TO + +THOSE FRIENDS, + +AT + +WHOSE REQUEST THEY WERE PRINTED, + +FOR WHOSE + +AMUSEMENT OR APPROBATION + +THEY ARE + +SOLELY INTENDED; + +These TRIFLES are respectfully dedicated, + +BY THE + +_AUTHOR_. + + +As these POEMS are never intended to meet the public eye, no apology +is necessary for the form in which they now appear. They are printed +merely for the perusal of a few friends to whom they are dedicated; +who will look upon them with indulgence; and as most of them were, +composed between the age of 15 and 17, their defects will be pardoned +or forgotten, in the youth and inexperience of the WRITER. + + * * * * * + + + + +_FUGITIVE PIECES._ + + * * * * * + +ON LEAVING N--ST--D. + + + Through the cracks in these battlements loud the winds whistle, + For the hall of my fathers is gone to decay; + And in yon once gay garden the hemlock and thistle + Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd in the way. + + Of the barons of old, who once proudly to battle + Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain; + The escutcheon and shield, which with ev'ry blast rattle, + Are the only sad vestiges now that remain. + + No more does old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers, + Raise a flame in the breast, for the war laurell'd wreath, + Near Askalon's Towers John of Horiston[1] slumbers, + Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel by death. + + Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy, + For the safety of Edward and ENGLAND they fell, + My fathers! the tears of your country redress ye, + How you fought! how you died! still her annals can tell. + + On [2]Marston with Rupert[3] 'gainst traitors contending, + Four Brothers enrich'd with their blood the bleak field + For Charles the Martyr their country defending, + Till death their attachment to royalty scal'd. + + Shades of heroes farewell! your descendant departing, + From the seat of his ancestors, bids ye adieu! + Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting + New courage, he'll think upon glory, and you. + + Though a tear dims his eye at this sad separation, + 'Tis nature, not fear, which commands his regret; + Far distant he goes with the same emulation, + In the grave, he alone can his fathers forget. + + Your fame, and your memory, still will he cherish, + He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown; + Like you will he live, or like you will he perish, + When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own. + +1803. + +[Footnote 1: Horiston Castle, in _Derbyshire_, an ancient seat of the +B--r--n family.] + +[Footnote 2: The battle of _Marston Moor_, where the adherents of +CHARLES I. were defeated.] + +[Footnote 3: Son of the Elector Palatine, and related to CHARLES I. He +afterwards commanded the Fleet, in the Reign of CHARLES II.] + + * * * * * + +TO E----. + + Let Folly smile, to view the names + Of thee and me in friendship twin'd, + Yet virtue will have greater claims + To love, than rank with vice combin'd. + + And though unequal is _thy_ fate, + Since title deck'd my higher birth; + Yet envy not this gaudy state, + _Thine_ is the pride of modest worth. + + Our _souls_ at least congenial meet, + Nor can _thy_ lot _my_ rank disgrace; + Our intercourse is not less sweet, + Since worth of rank supplies the place. + +_November_, 1802. + + * * * * * + +ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR AND VERY DEAR TO +HIM. + + * * * * * + + Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom, + Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove, + Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb, + And scatter flowers on the dust I love. + +2. + + Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, + That clay where once such animation beam'd; + The king of terrors seiz'd her as his prey, + Not worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd. + +3. + + Oh! could that king of terrors pity feel, + Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of fate, + Not here the mourner would his grief reveal, + Not here the muse her virtues would relate. + +4. + + But wherefore weep! her matchless spirit soars, + Beyond where aplendid shines the orb of day. + And weeping angels lead her to those bowers, + Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds repay. + +5. + + And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign! + And madly God-like Providence accuse! + Ah! no far fly from me attempts so vain, + I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse. + +6. + + Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear, + Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face; + Still they call forth my warm affection's tear. + Such sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace.[4] + +1802. + +[Footnote 4: The Author claims the indulgence of the reader, more for +this piece, than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it was +written at an earlier period than the rest, (being composed at the +age of 14) and his first Essay, be preferred submitting it to the +indulgence of his friends in its present state, to making either +addition or alteration.] + + * * * * * + +TO D. ---- + + In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp, + A friend whom death alone could sever, + But envy with malignant grasp, + Has torn thee from my breast for ever. + +2. + + True, she has forc'd thee from my _breast_, + But in my _heart_ thou keep'st thy seat; + There, there, thine image still must rest, + Until that heart shall cease to beat. + +3. + + And when the grave restores her dead, + When life again to dust is given, + On _thy dear_ breast I'll lay my head, + Without _thee_! _where_ would be _my Heaven?_ + +_February_, 1803. + + * * * * * + +TO ---- + + Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes, + Suffus'd in tears implore to stay; + And heard _unmov'd_, thy plenteous sighs, + Which said far more than words could say. + + Though deep the grief, _thy_ tears exprest, + 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 where join'd to mine; + The tears that from _my_ eye-lids flow'd, + Were lost in those which fell from _thine_. + + Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek, + _Thy_ gushing tears had quench'd its flame, + And as thy tongue essay'd to speak, + In _sighs alone_ it breath'd my name. + + And yet, my girl, we weep in vain, + In vain our fate in sighs deplore; + Remembrance only can remain, + But _that_, will make us weep the more. + + Again, thou best belov'd, adieu! + Ah! if thou canst o'ercome regret, + Nor let thy mind past joys review, + Our only _hope_ is to _forget_. + +1805. + + * * * * * + +TO CAROLINE. + + You say you love, and yet your eye + No symptom of that love conveys, + You say you love, yet know not why, + Your cheek no sign of love betrays. + +2. + + Ah! did that breast with ardour glow, + With me alone it joy could know, + Or feel with me the listless woe, + Which racks my heart when far from thee. + +3. + + Whene'er we meet my blushes rise, + And mantle through my purpled cheek, + But yet no blush to mine replies, + Nor e'en your eyes your love bespeak. + +4. + + Your voice alone declares your flame, + And though so sweet it breaths my name; + Our passions still are not the same, + Alas! you cannot love like me. + +5. + + For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow, + And though so oft it meets my kiss, + It burns with no responsive glow, + Nor melts like mine in dewy bliss. + +6. + + Ah! what are words to love like mine, + Though uttered by a voice like thine, + I still in murmurs must repine, + And think that love can ne'er be true. + +7. + + Which meets me with no joyous sign, + Without a sigh which bids adieu; + How different is my love from thine, + How keen my grief when leaving you. + +8. + + Your image fills my anxious breast, + Till day declines adown the West, + And when, at night, I sink to rest, + In dreams your fancied form I view. + +9. + + 'Tis then your breast, no longer cold, + With equal ardour seems to burn, + While close your arms around me fold, + Your lips my kiss with warmth return. + +10. + + Ah! would these joyous moments last; + Vain HOPE! the gay delusions past, + That voice!--ah! no, 'tis but the blast, + Which echoes through the neighbouring grove. + +11. + + But when _awake_, your lips I seek, + And clasp enraptur'd all your charms, + So chill's the pressure of your cheek, + I fold a statue in my arms. + +12. + + If thus, when to my heart embrac'd, + No pleasure in your eyes is trac'd, + You may be prudent, fair, and chaste, + But ah! my girl, you _do not love_. + + * * * * * + + +TO MARIA ---- + + + Since now the hour is come at last, + When you must quit your anxious lover, + Since now, our dream of bliss is past, + One pang, my girl, and all is over. + + Alas! that pang will be severe, + Which bids us part, to meet no more; + Which tears me far from _one_ so dear, + _Departing_ for a distant shore. + + Well! we have pass'd some happy hours, + And joy will mingle with our tears; + When thinking on these ancient towers, + The shelter of our infant years. + + Where from this gothic casement's height, + We view'd the lake, the park, the dell, + And still though tears obstruct our sight, + We lingering look a last farewell.-- + + O'er fields, through which we us'd to run, + And spend the hours in childish play, + O'er shades where, when our race was done, + Reposing on my breast you lay, + + Whilst I, admiring, too remiss, + Forgot to scare the hovering flies, + Yet envied every fly the kiss, + It dar'd to give your slumbering eyes. + + See still the little painted _bark_, + In which I row'd you o'er the lake; + See there, high waving o'er the park, + The _elm_, I clamber'd for your sake. + + These times are past, our joys are gone, + You leave me, leave this happy vale; + These scenes, I must retrace alone, + Without thee, what will they avail. + + Who can conceive, who has not prov'd, + The anguish of a last embrace? + When torn from all you fondly lov'd, + You bid a long adieu to peace. + + _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! + +1805. + + * * * * * + +FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES, FROM THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF +ÆSCHYLUS. + + + Great Jove! to whose Almighty Throne, + Both Gods and mortals homage pay, + Ne'er may my soul thy power disown, + Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. + Oft shall the sacred victim fall, + In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; + My voice shall raise no impious strain, + 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main. + + * * * * * + + How different now thy joyless fate, + Since first Hesione thy bride, + When plac'd aloft in godlike state, + The blushing beauty by thy side. + Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smil'd, + And mirthful strains the hours beguil'd; + The nymphs and Tritons danc'd around, + Nor yet thy doom was fix'd nor Jove relentless frown'd. + +HARROW, _December_ 1, 1804. + + * * * * * + + +LINES IN "LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN," BY J.J. +ROUSSEAU, FOUNDED ON FACTS. + + + Away, away,--your flattering arts, + May now betray some simpler hearts; + And _you_ will _smile_ at their believing, + And _they_ shall _weep_ at your deceiving. + +_ANSWER TO THE ABOVE, ADDRESS'D TO MISS ----_. + + Dear simple girl those flattering arts, + (From which you'd guard frail female hearts,) + Exist but in imagination, + Mere phantoms of your own creation; + For he who sees that witching grace, + That perfect form, that lovely face; + With eyes admiring, oh! believe me, + He never wishes to deceive thee; + Once let you at your mirror glance, + You'll there descry that elegance, + Which from our sex demands such praises, + But envy in the other raises.-- + Then he who tells you of your beauty, + Believe me only does his duty; + Ah! fly not from the candid youth, + It is not flattery, but truth. + +_July_, 1804. + + * * * * * + + +ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS, AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. + + + Where are those honours? IDA, once your own, + When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne; + As ancient Rome fast falling to disgrace, + Hail'd a Barbarian in her Cæsar's place; + So you degenerate share as hard a fate, + And seat _Pomposus_, where your _Probus_ sate. + Of narrow brain, but of a narrower soul, + Pomposus, holds you in his harsh controul; + Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd, + With florid jargon, and with vain parade; + With noisy nonsense, and new fangled rules, + (Such as were ne'er before beheld in schools,) + Mistaking _pedantry_, for _learning's_ laws, + He governs, sanctioned but by self applause. + With him, the same dire fate attending Rome, + Ill-fated IDA! soon must stamp your doom; + Like her o'erthrown, forever lost to fame, + No trace of science left you, but the name. + +HARROW, _July_, 1805. + + * * * * * + + +EPITAPH ON A BELOVED FRIEND. + + + Oh Boy! forever lov'd, for ever dear, + What fruitless tears have wash'd thy honour'd bier; + What sighs re-echoed to thy parting breath, + Whilst thou wert struggling in the pangs of death. + Could tears have turn'd the tyrant in his course, + Could sighs have check'd his dart's relentless force; + Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, + Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey. + Thou still had'st liv'd, to bless my aching sight, + Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight: + Though low thy lot, since in a cottage born, + No titles did thy humble name adorn, + To me, far dearer, was thy artless love, + Than all the joys, wealth, fame, and friends could prove. + For thee alone I liv'd, or wish'd to live, + (Oh God! if impious, this rash word forgive) + Heart broken now, I wait an equal doom, + Content to join thee in thy turf-clad tomb; + Where this frail form compos'd in endless rest, + I'll make my last, cold, pillow on thy breast; + That breast where oft in life, I've laid my head, + Will yet receive me mouldering with the dead; + This life resign'd without one parting sigh, + Together in one bed of earth we'll lie! + Together share the fate to mortals given, + Together mix our dust, and hope for Heaven. + +HARROW, 1803. + + * * * * * + + +ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL, WHEN DYING. + + + Animula! vagula, Blandula, + Hospes, comesque, corporis, + Quoe nunc abibis in Loca? + Pallidula, rigida, nudula, + Nec ut soles dabis Jocos. + +_TRANSLATION_. + + Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite! + Friend and associate of this clay, + To what unknown region borne, + Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? + No more with wonted humour gay, + But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn. + +1806. + + * * * * * + + +TO MARY. + + + Rack'd by the flames of jealous rage, + By all her torments deeply curst, + Of hell-born passions far the worst, + What hope my pangs can now assuage? + +2. + + I tore me from thy circling arms, + To madness fir'd by doubts and fears, + Heedless of thy suspicious tears, + Nor feeling for thy feign'd alarms. + +3. + + Resigning every thought of bliss, + Forever, from your love I go, + Reckless of all the tears that flow, + Disdaining thy polluted kiss. + +4. + + No more that bosom heaves for me, + On it another seeks repose, + Another riot's on its snows, + Our bonds are broken, both are free. + +5. + + No more with mutual love we burn, + No more the genial couch we bless, + Dissolving in the fond caress; + Our love o'erthrown will ne'er return. + +6. + + Though love than ours could ne'er be truer, + Yet flames too fierce themselves destroy, + Embraces oft repeated cloy, + _Ours_ came too _frequent_, to endure. + +7. + + You quickly sought a second lover, + And I too proud to share a heart, + Where once I held the _whole_, not _part_, + Another mistress must discover. + +8. + + Though not the _first_ one, who hast blest me, + Yet I will own, you was the dearest, + The one, unto my bosom nearest; + So I conceiv'd, when I possest thee. + +9. + + Even now I cannot well forget thee, + And though no more in folds of pleasure, + Kiss follows kiss in countless measure, + I hope _you_ sometimes will regret me. + +10. + + And smile to think how oft were done, + What prudes declare a sin to act is, + And never but in darkness practice, + Fearing to trust the tell-tale sun. + +11. + + And wisely therefore night prefer, + Whose dusky mantle veils their fears, + Of _this_, and _that_, of eyes and ears, + Affording shades to those that err. + +12. + + Now, by my foul, 'tis most delight + To view each other panting, dying. + In love's _extatic posture_ lying, + Grateful to _feeling_, as to _sight_. + +13. + + And had the glaring God of Day, + (As formerly of Mars and Venus) + Divulg'd the joys which pass'd between us, + Regardless of his _peeping_ ray. + +14. + + Of love admiring such a _sample_, + The Gods and Goddesses descending, + Had never fancied us offending, + But _wisely_ followed _our example_. + + * * * * * + + When to their airy hall, my father's voice, + Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice, + When pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride, + Or dark in mist, descend the mountain's side; + Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns, + To mark the spot, where earth to earth returns. + No lengthen'd scroll of virtue, and renown, + My _epitaph_, shall be my name alone; + If _that_ with honour fails to crown my clay, + Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay; + _That_, only _that_, shall single out the shot, + By _that_ remember'd, or fore'er forgot.-- + +1803. + + * * * * * + + +TO ---- + + +1. + + Oh! when shall the grave hide forever my sorrow? + Oh! when shall my soul wing her flight from this clay? + The present is hell! and the coming to-morrow, + But brings with new torture, the curse of to-day. + +2. + + From my eye flows no tear, from my lips fall no curses, + I blast not the fiends, who have hurl'd me from bliss, + For poor is the soul which bewailing rehearses, + Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this-- + +3. + + Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning. + Would my lips breathe a flame, which no stream could assuage, + On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its lightning, + With transport my tongue give a loose to its rage. + +4. + + But now tears and curses alike unavailing, + Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight; + Could they view us, our sad separation bewailing, + Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight. + +5. + + 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. + +6. + + Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place me, + Since in life, love and friendship, for ever are fled, + If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee, + Perhaps they will leave unmolested--the dead. + +1805. + + * * * * * + + + +1. + + When I hear you express an affection so warm, + Ne'er think, my belov'd, that I do not believe, + For your lip, would the soul of suspicion disarm, + And your eye beams a ray, which can never deceive. + +2. + + Yet still, this fond bosom regrets whilst 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. + +3. + + That the time must arrive, when no longer retaining + Their auburn, these locks must wave thin to the breeze. + When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining, + Prove nature a prey to decay, and disease. + +4. + + 'Tis this, my belov'd, which spreads gloom o'er my features + Tho' 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 me of thee. + +5. + + No jargon of priests o'er our union was mutter'd, + To rivet the fetters of husband and wife; + By our lips, by our hearts, were our vows alone utter'd, + To perform them, in full, would ask more than a life. + +6. + + But as death my belov'd, 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. + +7. + + Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure, + Which from passion like ours will unceasingly flow; + Let us pass round the cup of love's bliss in full measure, + And quaff the contents as our nectar below. + +1805. + + * * * * * + + +ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW ON THE HILL. +1806. + + + Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection, + Embitters the present, compar'd with the past; + Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection, + And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last. + +2. + + Where fancy yet joys, to retrace the resemblance, + Of comrades in friendship, and mischief allied; + How welcome once more your ne'er fading remembrance, + Which rests in the bosom, though hope is deny'd. + +3. + + Again I revisit the hills where we sported, + The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought; + The school where loud warn'd by the bell we resorted, + To pore o'er the precepts by Pedagogues taught. + +4. + + Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd, + As reclining at eve on yon tombstone I lay; + Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd, + To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. + +5. + + I once more view the room with spectators surrounded, + Where as Zanga I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; + While to swell my young pride such applauses resounded, + I fancied that MOSSOP[5] himself was outshone. + +6. + + Or as Lear I pour'd for the deep imprecation, + By my daughters of kingdom and reason depriv'd: + Till fir'd by loud plaudits, and self adulation, + I consider'd myself as a _Garrick_ reviv'd. + +7. + + Ye dreams of my boyhood how much I regret you, + As your memory beams through this agoniz'd breast, + Thus sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you, + Though this heart throbs to bursting by anguish possest. + +8. + + I thought this poor brain fever'd even to madness, + Of tears as of reason forever was drain'd, + But the drops which now flow down _this_ bosom of sadness, + Convince me, the springs have some moisture retain'd. + +9. + + Sweet scenes of my childhood! your blest recollection, + Has wrung from these eye-lids to weeping long dead, + In torrents, the tears of my warmest affection, + The last and the fondest, I ever shall shed. + +[Footnote 5: MOSSOP, a cotempory of GARRICK, famous for his +performance of _Zanga_, in YOUNG's tragedy of the _Revenge_.] + + * * * * * + + +THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION. + + + High in the midst surrounded by his peers, + M--ns--l his ample front sublime uprears; + Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God, + While Sophs and Freshmen, tremble at his nod. + Whilst all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom, + _His_ voice in thunder shakes the sounding dome; + Denouncing dire reproach, to luckless fools, + Unskill'd to plod in mathematic rules. + + Happy the youth! in Euclid's axioms tried, + Though little vers'd in any art beside; + Who with scarce sense to pen an _English_ letter, + Yet with precision, scans an _attic metre_. + + What! though he knows not how his fathers bled, + When civil discord pil'd the fields with dead, + When Edward bade his conquering bands advance, + Or Henry trampled on the crest of France; + Though marvelling at the name of _Magna Charta_, + Yet, well he recollects the _laws of Sparta_. + Can tell what edicts sage _Lycurgus_ made, + Whilst _Blackstone's_ on the _shelf neglected_ laid; + Of _Grecian dramas_ vaunts the deathless fame, + Of _Avon's bard_, remembering scarce the name. + + Such is the youth, whose scientific pate, + Class honours, medals, fellowships await; + Or even perhaps the _declamation_ prize, + If to such glorious height, he lifts his eyes. + But lo! no _common_ orator can hope + The envied silver cup within his scope; + Not that our _heads_ much eloquence require, + The ATHENIAN's glowing style, or TULLY's fire. + The _manner_ of the speech is nothing, since + We do not try by _speaking_ to _convince_; + Be other _orators_ of pleasing _proud_, + We speak to _please_ ourselves, not _move_ the crowd. + Our gravity prefers the _muttering_ tone, + A proper mixture of the _squeak and groan_; + No borrow'd _grace_ of _action_, must be seen, + The slightest motion would displease the _dean_. + Whilst every staring graduate would prate, + Against what, _he_ could never imitate. + + The man, who hopes t' obtain the promis'd cup, + Must in one _posture_ stand, and _ne'er look up_, + Nor _stop_, but rattle over _every_ word, + No matter _what_, so it can _not_ be heard; + Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest, + Who speaks the _fastest_, 's sure to speak the _best_; + Who utters most within the shortest space, + May safely hope to win the _wordy race_. + + The sons of _Science these_, who thus repaid, + Linger in ease, in Granta's sluggish shade; + Where on Cam's sedgy banks supine they lie, + Unknown, unhonour'd live, unwept for, die. + Dull as the pictures, which adorn their halls, + They think all learning fix'd within their walls: + In manners rude, in foolish forms precise, + All modern arts, affecting to despise. + Yet prizing _Bentley's[6] Brunck's[6]_ or _Porson's_[7] note, + More than the _verse, on which the critic wrote_; + With eager haste, they court the tool of power, + (Whether 'tis PITT or PETTY rules the hour:) + To _him_, with suppliant smiles they bend the head, + Whilst mitres, prebends, to their eyes are spread. + But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace, + They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place; + _Such_ are the men who learning's treasures guard, + _Such_ is their _practice_, such is their _reward_; + This _much_ at least we may presume to say, + Th' _reward's_ scarce equal, to the _price_ they _pay_. + +1806. + +[Footnote 6: Celebrated Critics.] + +[Footnote 7: The present Greek Professor at Cambridge.] + + * * * * * + + +TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. + + +1. + + This faint resemblance of thy charms, + (Though strong as mortal art could give) + My constant heart of fear disarms, + Revives my hopes, and bids me live. + +2. + + Here I can trace the locks of gold, + Which round thy snowy forehead wave, + The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould, + The lips which made me _Beauty's_ slave. + +3. + + Here I can trace--ah no! that eye, + Whose azure floats in liquid fire, + Must all the painter's art defy, + And bid him from the task retire. + +4. + + Here I behold, its beauteous hue, + But where's the beam of soft desire? + Which gave a lustre to its blue, + Love, only love, could e'er inspire. + +5. + + Sweet copy! far more dear to me, + Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, + Than all the living forms could be, + Save her, who plac'd thee next my heart. + +6. + + She plac'd it, sad with needless fear, + Lest time might shake my wavering soul, + Unconscious that her image there, + Held every sense in fast controul. + +7. + + Through hours, through years, through time 'twill cheer, + My hope in gloomy moments raise; + In life's last conflict 't'will appear, + And meet my fond, expiring gaze. + + * * * * * + + +ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX, THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN +THE MORNING POST. + + + "Our Nation's foes, lament on _Fox's_ death, + "But bless the hour, when PITT resign'd his breath; + "These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue, + "We give the palm, where Justice points its due." + +_To which the Author of these Pieces, sent the subjoined Reply, for +Insertion in the_ MORNING CHRONICLE.-- + + Oh! factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth, + Would mangle still the dead, in spite of truth, + What though our "nation's foes" lament the fate, + With generous feeling, of the good and great; + Shall therefore dastard tongues assail the name + Of him whose virtues claim eternal fame? + When PITT expired in plenitude of power, + Though ill success obscur'd his dying hour, + Pity her dewy wings before him spread, + For noble spirits "war not with the dead;" + His friends in tears, a last sad requiem gave, + And all his errors slumber'd in the grave. + He died an Atlas, bending 'neath the weight, + Of cares oppressing our unhappy state; + But lo! another Hercules appear'd, + Who for a time, the ruined fabric rear'd; + He too is dead! who still our England propp'd, + With him our fast reviving hopes have dropp'd; + Not one great people only raise his urn, + All Europe's far extended regions mourn. + "These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue, + "And give the palm where Justice points it due;" + But let not canker'd calumny assail, + And round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. + Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep, + Whose dear remains in honoured marble sleep; + For whom at last, even hostile nations groan, + And friends and foes alike his talents own; + Fox! shall in Britain's future annals shine, + Nor e'en to _Pitt_, the patriot's _palm_ resign; + Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask, + For PITT, and PITT alone, would dare to ask. + + * * * * * + + +TO A LADY, WHO PRESENTED THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR, BRAIDED WITH HIS +OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN DECEMBER, TO MEET HIM IN THE GARDEN. + + + These locks which fondly thus entwine, + In firmer chains our hearts confine; + Than all th' unmeaning protestations, + Which swell with nonsense, love orations. + Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it, + Nor time, nor place, nor art, have mov'd it; + Then wherefore should we sigh, and whine, + With groundless jealousy repine. + With silly whims, and fancies frantic, + Merely to make our love romantic. + Why should you weep like _Lydia Languish_, + And fret with self-created anguish. + Or doom the lover you have chosen, + On winter nights, to sigh half frozen: + In leafless shades, to sue for pardon, + Only because the scene's a garden. + For gardens seem by one consent + (Since SHAKESPEARE set the precedent;) + (Since Juliet first declar'd her passion) + To form the place of assignation. + Oh! would some modern muse inspire, + And seat her by a _sea-coal_ fire, + Or had the bard at Christmas written, + And laid the scene of love in Britain; + He surely in commiseration, + Had chang'd the place of declaration. + In Italy I've no objection, + Warm nights are proper for reflection; + But here, our climate is so rigid, + That love itself, is rather frigid; + Think on our chilly situation, + And curb this rage for imitation. + Then let us meet, as oft we've done, + Beneath the influence of the sun; + Or, if at midnight I must meet you, + Oh! let me in your chamber greet you; + _There_ we can love for hours together, + Much better in such snowy weather, + Than plac'd in all th' Arcadian groves, + That ever witness'd rural loves; + _There_ if my passion fail to please, + Next night I'll be content to freeze; + No more I'll give a loose to laughter, + But curse my fate, forever after. + + * * * * * + + +TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. + + + Sweet girl! though only once we met, + That meeting I shall ne'er forget; + And though we ne'er may meet again, + Remembrance will thy form retain; + I would not say, "I love" but still + My senses struggle with my will; + In vain to drive thee from my breast, + My thoughts are more and more represt, + In vain, I check the rising sighs, + Another to the last replies; + Perhaps this is not love, but yet + Our meeting I can ne'er forget. + + What though we never silence broke, + Our eyes a sweeter language spoke; + The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, + And tells a tale, it never feels; + Deceit, the guilty lips impart, + And hush the mandates of the heart, + But soul's interpreters, the eyes + Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise. + As thus our glances oft convers'd, + And all our bosoms felt, rehears'd, + No _spirit_ from within reprov'd us, + Say rather, "'twas the _spirit mov'd us_." + Though what they utter'd, I repress, + Yet, I conceive, thou'lt partly guess; + For, as on thee, my memory ponders, + Perchance, to me thine also wanders; + This for myself, at least I'll say, + Thy form appears through night, through day, + Awake, with it my fancy teems, + In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams; + The vision charms the hours away, + And bids me curse Aurora's ray; + For breaking slumbers of delight, + Which make me wish for endless night. + Since, oh! whate'er my future fate, + Shall joy or woe my steps await; + Tempted by love, by storms beset, + Thine image, I can ne'er forget. + + Alas! again no more we meet, + No more our former looks repeat; + Then let me breathe this parting prayer, + The dictate of my bosom's care: + "May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker, + "That anguish never can o'ertake her; + "That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her, + "But bliss be aye, her heart's partaker: + "No jealous passion shall invade, + "No envy that pure breast pervade;" + For he that revels in such charms, + Can never seek another's arms; + "Oh! may the happy mortal fated, + "To be by dearest ties related; + "For _her_ each hour _new joy_ discover, + "And lose the husband in the lover. + "May that fair bosom never know + "What 'tis to feel the restless woe; + "Which stings the soul, with vain regret, + "Of him, who never can forget." + + * * * * * + + +TO JULIA! + + + Julia! since far from you I've rang'd, + Our souls with fond affection glow not; + You say 'tis I, _not you_ have chang'd, + I'd tell you why,--but yet I know not. + +2. + + Your polish'd brow, no cares have crost, + And Julia! we are not much older, + Since trembling first my heart I lost, + Or told my love with hope, grown bolder. + +3. + + Sixteen was then our utmost age, + Two years have lingering pass'd away, love! + And now new thoughts our minds engage, + At least, _I_ feel disposed to stray, love! + +4. + + 'Tis _I_, that am alone to blame, + _I_, that am guilty of love's treason; + Since your sweet breast, is still the same, + Caprice must be my only reason. + +5. + + I do not, love, suspect your truth, + With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not, + Warm was the passion of my youth, + One trace of dark deceit it leaves not. + +6. + + No, no, my flame was not pretended, + For oh! I lov'd you most sincerely, + And though our dream at last is ended, + My bosom still esteems you dearly. + +7. + + No more we meet in yonder bowers, + Perhaps my soul's too prone to roving, + But older, firmer _hearts_ than ours, + Have found monotony in loving. + +8. + + Your cheeks soft bloom is unimpair'd, + Your beauties still are daily bright'ning, + Your eye for conquest comes prepar'd, + The forge of love's resistless lightning. + +9. + + Arm'd thus to make their bosoms bleed, + Many will throng to sigh like me, love, + More constant they may prove indeed, + Fonder alas! they ne'er can be, love! + + * * * * * + + +TO WOMAN. + + + Surely experience might have told me, + That all must love thee, who behold thee; + Surely experience might have taught, + A woman's promises are naught, + But plac'd in all thy charms before me, + All I forget, but to _adore_ thee. + Oh memory! thou choicest blessing, + When join'd with hope, when still possessing; + Thou whisperest, as our hearts are beating, + "What oft we've done, we're still repeating." + But how much curst by every lover, + When hope is fled, and passion's over. + Woman that fair and fond deceiver, + How prompt are striplings to believe her, + How throbs the pulse, when first we view, + The eye that rolls in glossy blue; + Or sparkles black, or mildly throws, + A beam from under hazel brows; + How quick we credit every oath, + And hear her plight the willing troth; + Fondly we hope 'twill last for aye, + When lo! she changes in a day, + The Record will forever stand, + "That woman's vows, are writ in sand." + + * * * * * + + +AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE DELIVERED BY THE AUTHOR, PREVIOUS TO THE +PERFORMANCE OF THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, AT A PRIVATE THEATRE. + + + Since the refinement of this polish'd age, + Has swept immoral raillery from the stage; + Since taste has now expung'd licentious wit, + Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ; + Since now to please with purer scenes we seek, + Nor dare to call the blush from beauty's cheek; + Oh! let the modest muse some pity claim, + And meet indulgence--though she find not fame. + But not for _her_ alone, we wish respect, + _Others_ appear more conscious of defect; + To night, no _Veteran Roscii_ you behold, + In all the arts of scenic action old; + No COOKE, no KEMBLE, can salute you here, + No SIDDONS draw the sympathetic tear, + To night, you thong to witness the debut, + Of embryo actors to the drama new; + Here then, our almost unfledg'd wings we try, + Clip not our _pinions_, ere the _birds can fly_; + Failing in this our first attempt to soar, + Drooping, alas, we fall to rise no more. + Not one poor trembler only, fear betrays, + Who hopes, yet almost dreads to meet your praise; + But all our Dramatis Personæ wait, + In fond suspense, this crisis of their fate; + No venal views our progress can retard, + Your generous plaudits are our sole reward; + For them each _Hero_ all his power displays, + Each timid _Heroine_ shrinks before your gaze: + Surely these last will some protection find, + None to the softer sex can prove unkind; + Whilst youth and beauty form the female shield, + The sternest critic to the fair must yield. + But should our feeble efforts nought avail, + Should, _after all_, our best endeavours fail; + Still let some mercy in your bosoms live, + And if you can't applaud, at least _forgive_. + + * * * * * + + +TO MISS E.P. + + +1. + + Eliza! what fools are the Mussulman sect, + Who to woman deny the soul's future existence, + Could they see thee, Eliza! they'd own their defect, + And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance. + +2. + + Had their Prophet possess'd but an atom of sense, + He ne'er would have _woman_ from Paradise driven, + But instead of his _Houris_ a flimsy pretence, + With _woman alone_, he had peopled his Heaven. + +3. + + But still to increase your calamities more, + Not content with depriving your bodies of spirit, + He allots but _one husband_ to share amongst four, + With _souls_ you'd dispense--but this last who could bear it. + +4. + + His religion to please neither _party_ is made, + On _husbands_ 'tis _hard_, to the wives most uncivil; + But I can't contradict what so oft has been said, + "Though women are angels, yet wedlock's the devil." + +5. + + This terrible truth, even Scripture has told, + Ye Benedicks! hear me, and listen with rapture; + If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold, + Of St. MATT.--read the second and twentieth chapter. + +6. + + 'Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex'd, + With wives who eternal confusion are spreading; + "But in Heaven" (so runs the Evangelist's Text,) + "We neither have giving in marriage, or wedding." + +7. + + From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,) + That should Saints after death, with their spouses put up more, + And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway, + All Heaven would ring with the conjugal uproar. + +8. + + Distraction and discord would follow in course, + Nor MATTHEW, nor MARK, nor St. PAUL, can deny it, + The only expedient is general divorce, + To prevent universal disturbance and riot. + +9. + + But though husband and wife, shall at length be disjoin'd + Yet woman and man ne'er were meant to dissever, + Our chains once dissolv'd, and our hearts unconfin'd, + We'll love without bonds, but we'll love you forever. + +10. + + Though souls are denied you by fools and by rakes, + Should you own it yourselves, I would even then doubt you, + Your nature so much of _celestial_ partakes, + The Garden of Eden would wither without you. + +SOUTHWELL, _October_ 9, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +THE TEAR. + + +1. + + When Friendship or Love, + Our sympathies move, + When Truth in a glance should appear, + The lips may beguile, + With a dimple or smile, + But the test of affection's a _tear_. + +2. + + Too oft is a smile, + But the hypocrite's wile, + To mask detestation, or fear, + Give me the soft sigh, + Whilst the soul telling eye + Is dimm'd, for a time, with a _tear_. + +3. + + Mild charity's glow, + To us mortals below, + Shows the soul from barbarity clear, + Compassion will melt, + Where this virtue is felt, + And its dew is diffused in a _tear_. + +4. + + The man doom'd to sail, + With the blast of the gale, + Through billows Atlantic to steer, + As he bends o'er the wave, + Which may soon be his grave, + The green sparkles bright with a _tear_. + +5. + + The soldier braves death, + For a fanciful wreath, + In Glory's romantic career; + But he raises the foe, + When in battle laid low, + And bathes every wound with a _tear_. + +6. + + When with high bounding pride, + He returns to his bride, + Renouncing the gore crimson'd spear; + All his toils are repaid, + When embracing the maid, + From her eyelid he kisses the tear. + +7. + + Sweet scene of my youth, + Seat of Friendship and Truth, + Where Love chac'd each fast-fleeting year, + Loth to leave thee I mourn'd, + For a last look I turn'd, + But thy spire was scarce seen through a _tear_. + +8. + + Though my vows I can pour, + To my Mary no more, + My Mary to love once so _dear_, + In the shade of her bower, + I remember the hour, + She rewarded those vows with a _tear_. + +9. + + By another possest, + May she live ever blest, + Her name still my heart must revere, + With a sigh I resign, + What I once thought was mine, + And forgive her deceit with a _tear_. + +10. + + Ye friends of my heart, + Ere from you I depart, + This hope to my breast is most near, + If again we shall meet, + In this rural retreat, + May we _meet_, as we _part_, with a _tear_. + +11. + + When my soul wings her flight, + To the regions of night, + And my body shall sleep on its bier; + As ye pass by the tomb, + Where my ashes consume, + Oh! moisten their dust with a _tear_. + +12. + + May no marble bestow, + The splendour of woe, + Which the children of Vanity rear, + No fiction of fame, + Shall blazon my name, + All I ask, all I wish, is a _tear_. + +BYRON, _October 26_, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J.M.B. PIGOT, ESQ. ON THE CRUELTY OF HIS +MISTRESS. + + +1. + + Why PIGOT, complain, + Of this damsel's disdain, + Why thus in despair, do you fret? + For months you may try, + But believe me a _sigh_, + Will never obtain a coquette. + +2. + + Would you teach her to love, + For a time seem to rove, + At first she may _frown_ in a _pet_; + But leave her awhile, + She shortly will smile, + And then you may _kiss_ your _coquette_. + +3. + + For such are the airs, + Of these fanciful fairs, + They think all our _homage_ a _debt_; + But a partial neglect, + Soon takes an effect, + And humbles the proudest _coquette_. + +4. + + Dissemble your pain, + And lengthen your chain, + Nor seem her _hauteur_ to _regret_, + If again you shall sigh, + She no more will deny, + That _yours_ is the rosy _coquette_. + +5. + + But if from false pride, + Your pangs she deride, + This whimsical virgin forget; + Some _other_ admire, + Who will _melt_ with your _fire_, + And laugh at the _little_ coquette. + +6. + + For _me_, I adore, + Some _twenty_ or more, + And love them most dearly, but yet, + Though my heart they enthral, + I'd abandon them all, + Did they act like your blooming _coquette_. + +7. + + No longer repine, + But form this design, + And break through her slight woven net; + Away with despair, + No longer forbear, + To fly from the captious coquette. + +8. + + Then quit her, my friend! + Your bosom defend, + Ere quite with her snares you're beset; + Lest your deep wounded heart + When incens'd by the smart, + Should lead you to _curse_ the coquette. + +BYRON, _October_ 27, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +GRANTA, A MEDLEY. + + + Oh! could LE SAGE's[8] demon's gift, + Be realized at my desire, + This night my trembling form he'd lift, + And place it on St. Mary's spire. + +2. + + Then would unroof'd old Granta's Halls + Pedantic inmates full display, + _Fellows_ who dream on _lawn_, or _stalls_, + The price of hireling votes to pay. + +3. + + Then would I view each rival Wight, + PETTY and PALMERSTON survey, + Who canvass now with all their might, + Against the next elective day. + +4. + + One on his power and place depends, + The other on the Lord knows what, + Each to some eloquence pretends, + But neither will convince by _that_. + +5. + + The first indeed may not demur, + Fellows are sage reflecting men, + And know preferment can occur, + But very seldom, _now_ and _then_. + +6. + + They know the Chancellor has got, + Some pretty livings in disposal, + Each hopes that _one_ may be his _lot_, + And therefore smiles at his proposal. + +7. + + Now from corruption's shameless scene, + I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, + And view unheeded, and unseen, + The studious sons of Alma Mater. + +8. + + There in apartments small and damp, + The candidate for college prizes, + Sits poring by the midnight lamp, + Goes late to bed and early rises. + +9. + + He surely well deserves to gain them, + And all the honours of His college, + Who striving hardly to obtain them, + Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge. + +10. + + Who sacrifices hours of rest, + To scan precisely metres attic, + And agitates his anxious breast, + In solving problems mathematic. + +11. + + Who reads false quantities in Sele,[9] + Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle, + And robs himself of many a meal, + In _barbarous latin_[10] doom'd to wrangle. + +12. + + Renouncing every pleasing page, + From authors of historic use, + Preferring to the lettered sage, + The square of the hypothenuse.[11] + +13. + + But harmless are these occupations, + Which hurt none but the hapless student; + Compared with other recreations, + Which bring together the imprudent. + +14. + + Whose daring revels shock the sight, + When vice and infamy combine, + When drunkenness and dice unite, + And every sense is steep'd in wine. + +15. + + Not so the methodistic crew, + Who plans of reformation lay, + In humble attitude they sue, + And for the sins of others pray. + +16. + + Forgetting that their pride of spirit, + And exultation in their trial; + Detracts most largely from the merit, + Of all their boasted self-denial. + +17. + + 'Tis morn,--from these I turn my sight, + What scene is this which meets the eye, + As numerous crowd array'd in white,[12] + Across the green in numbers fly. + +18. + + 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 listening ear. + +19. + + To this is join'd the sacred song, + The royal minstrel's hallowed strain, + But _he_ who hears the _music_ long, + Will _never_ wish to _hear again_. + +20. + + Our choir would scarcely be excus'd, + Even as a band of raw beginners, + But mercy now must be refus'd, + To such a set of croaking sinners. + +21. + + 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. + +22. + + The luckless Israelites when taken, + By some inhuman tyrant's order, + Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken, + On Babylonian river's border. + +23. + + But had they sung in notes like these, + Inspir'd by stratagem, or fear, + They might have set their hearts at ease, + The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. + +24. + + _But if I write_ much longer now, + The deuce a soul _will stay to read_, + My pen is blunt, the ink is low, + 'Tis almost time to _stop, indeed_. + +25. + + Therefore farewell, old GRANTA's spires, + No more like _Cleofas_ I fly, + No more thy theme my muse inspires, + The reader's tired, and so am I. + +_October_ 28, 1806. + +[Footnote 8: The Diable Boiteux of LE SAGE, where Asmodeus the Demon, +places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses +for his inspection.] + +[Footnote 9: Sele's publication on Greek metres is not remarkable for +its accuracy.] + +[Footnote 10: Every Cambridge man will assent to this,--the Latin of +the Schools is almost unintelligible.] + +[Footnote 11: 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.] + +[Footnote 12: On a Saint Day, the Students wear Surplices in Chapel.] + + * * * * * + + +TO THE SIGHING STREPHON. + + + Your pardon my friend, + If my rhymes did offend, + Your pardon a thousand times o'er, + From friendship I strove, + Your pangs to remove, + But I swear I will do so no more. + +2. + + Since your _beautiful_ maid + Your flame has repaid, + No more I your folly regret; + She's now most divine, + And I bow at the shrine, + Of this quickly reformed coquette. + +3. + + But still I must own, + I should never have known, + From _your verses_ what else she deserv'd, + Your pain seem'd so great, + I pitied your fate, + As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd. + +4. + + But since the chaste kiss, + Of this magical Miss, + Such wonderful transports produce, + Since the "_world you forget," + "When your lips once have met_," + My Counsel will get but abuse. + +5. + + You say "when I rove" + "I know nothing of love," + 'Tis true I am given to range, + If I rightly remember, + I've kiss'd a good number, + But there's pleasure at least in a change. + +6. + + I ne'er will advance, + By the rules of romance, + To humour a whimsical fair, + Though a smile may delight, + Yet a _frown_ wont _affright_, + Or drive me to dreadful despair. + +7. + + Whilst my blood is thus warm, + I ne'er shall reform, + To mix in the Platonist's school; + Of this I am sure, + Was my passion so pure, + _My mistress_ must think me _a fool_. + +8. + + Though the kisses are sweet, + Which voluptuously meet, + Of kissing I ne'er was so fond, + As to make me forget, + Though our lips oft have met, + That still there was _something beyond_. + +9. + + And if I should shun, + Every _woman_ for _one_, + Whose _image_ must fill my whole breast; + Whom I must _prefer_, + And _sigh_ but for _her_, + What an _insult_ 'twould be to the _rest_! + +10. + + Now, Strephon, good bye, + I cannot deny, + _Your passion_ appears most absurd, + Such _love_ as you plead, + Is _pure_ love indeed, + For it _only_ consists in the _word_. + + * * * * * + + +THE CORNELIAN. + + + No specious splendour of this stone, + Endears it to my memory ever, + With lustre _only once_ it shone, + But blushes modest as the giver. + +2. + + Some who can sneer at friendship's ties, + Have for my weakness oft reprov'd me, + Yet still the simple gift I prize, + For I am sure, the giver lov'd me. + +3. + + He offered it with downcast look, + As _fearful_ that I might refuse it, + I told him when the gift I took, + My _only fear_ should be to lose it. + +4. + + This pledge attentively I view'd, + And _sparkling_ as I held it near, + Methought one drop the stone bedew'd, + And ever since _I've lov'd a tear_. + +5. + + Still to adorn his humble youth, + Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield, + But he who seeks the flowers of truth, + Must quit the garden for the field. + +6. + + 'Tis not the plant uprear'd in sloth, + Which beauty shews, and sheds perfume, + The flowers which yield the most of both, + In nature's wild luxuriance bloom. + +7. + + Had Fortune aided nature's care, + For once forgetting to be blind, + _His_ would have been an ample share, + If well proportioned to his mind. + +8. + + But had the Goddess clearly seen, + His form had fixed her fickle breast, + _Her_ countless hoards would _his_ have been, + And none remain'd to give the rest. + + * * * * * + + +TO A. ---- + + Oh! did those eyes instead of fire, + With bright, but mild affection shine, + Though they might kindle less desire, + Love, more than mortal, would be thine. + +2. + + For thou art form'd so heavenly fair, + _Howe'er_ those orbs _may_ wildly beam, + We _must_ admire, but still despair, + That fatal glance forbids esteem. + +3. + + When nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth, + So much perfection in thee shone, + She fear'd, that too divine for earth, + The skies might claim thee for their own. + +4. + + Therefore to guard her dearest work, + Lest angels might dispute the prize, + She bade a secret lightning lurk, + Within those once celestial eyes. + +5. + + These might the boldest Sylph appal, + When gleaming with meridian blaze, + Thy beauty must enrapture all, + But who can dare thine ardent gaze? + +6. + + 'Tis said that Berenice's hair, + In stars adorns the vault of heaven, + But they would ne'er permit _thee_ there, + _Thou_ would'st so far outshine the seven. + +7. + + For did those eyes as planets roll, + Thy sister lights would scarce appear, + E'en suns which systems now controul, + Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. + +_Friday, Nov. 7th_, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +AS THE AUTHOR WAS DISCHARGING HIS PISTOLS IN A GARDEN, TWO LADIES +PASSING NEAR THE SPOT, WERE ALARMED BY THE SOUND OF A BULLET HISSING +NEAR THEM. TO ONE OF WHOM THE FOLLOWING VERSES ON THE OCCASION, WERE +ADDRESSED THE NEXT MORNING. + + +1. + + Doubtless, sweet girl, the hissing lead, + Wafting destruction near thy charms, + And hurtling[13] o'er thy lovely head, + Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms. + +2. + + Surely some envious Demon's force, + Vex'd to behold such beauty here, + Impell'd the bullet's viewless course, + Diverted from its first career. + +3. + + Yes! in that nearly fatal hour, + The ball obey'd some hell-born guide, + But Heaven with interposing power, + In pity turn'd the death aside. + +4. + + Yet, as perchance one trembling tear, + Upon that thrilling bosom fell, + Which _I_, th' unconscious cause of fear, + Extracted from its glistening cell;-- + +5. + + Say, what dire penance can atone? + For such an outrage done to thee, + Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne, + What punishment wilt thou decree? + +6. + + Might I perform the Judge's part, + The sentence I should scarce deplore. + It only would restore a heart, + Which but belong'd to _thee_ before. + +7. + + The least atonement, I can make, + Is to become no longer free, + Henceforth, I breathe, but for thy sake. + Thou shall be _all in all_ to me. + +8. + + But thou perhaps may'st now reject + Such expiation of my guilt, + Come then--some other mode elect? + Let it be death--or what thou wilt. + +9. + + Choose then relentless! and I swear, + Nought shall thy dread decree prevent, + Yet hold--one little word forbear! + Let it be aught but _banishment_. + +[Footnote 13: This word is used by GRAY in his poem to the fatal +Sisters:-- + + "Iron sleet of arrowy shower, + _Hurtles_ through the darken'd air." + + * * * * * + + +TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM. + + + Equal to Jove, that youth must be, + _Greater_ than Jove he seems to me; + Who free from Jealousy's alarms, + Securely views thy matchless charms; + That cheek which ever dimpling glows, + That mouth from whence such music flows; + To him alike are always known, + Reserv'd for him, and him alone. + Ah Lesbia! though 'tis death to me, + I cannot choose, but look on thee; + But at the sight, my senses fly, + I needs must gaze, but gazing die; + Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, + Parch'd to the throat, my tongue adheres. + My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, + My limbs deny their slight support. + Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread, + With deadly languor droops my head. + My ears with tingling echoes ring, + And life itself is on the wing; + My eyes refuse the cheering light, + Their orbs are veil'd in starless night: + Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, + And feels a temporary death.-- + + * * * * * + + +TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS, BY DOMITIUS MARSUS. + + + He who sublime in epic numbers roll'd, + And he who struck the softer lyre of love, + By Death's [14]_unequal_ hand alike controul'd, + Fit comrades in Elysian regions move. + +[Footnote 14: The hand of Death is said to be unjust or unequal, as +Virgil was considerably older than Tibullus, at his decease.] + + * * * * * + + +IMITATION OF TIBULLUS "SULPICIA AD CERINTUM." LIB. QUART. + + + Cruel Cerintus! does this fell disease, + Which racks my breast, your fickle bosom please. + Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain, + That I might live for love, and you again, + But now I scarcely shall bewail my fate, + By Death alone, I can avoid your hate. + + * * * * * + + +TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. LUCTUS DE NORTE PASSERIS. + + + Ye Cupids droop each little head, + Nor let your wings with joy be spread, + My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, + Which dearer than her eyes she lov'd: + For he was gentle and so true, + Obedient to her call he flew, + No fear, no wild alarm he knew, + But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd. + + And softly fluttering here, and there, + He never sought to cleave the air, + But chirrup'd oft, and free from care, + Tun'd to her ear his grateful strain. + But now he's pass'd the gloomy bourn, + From whence he never can return, + His death, and Lesbia's grief I mourn, + Who sighs alas! but sighs in vain. + + Oh curst be thou! devouring grave! + Whose jaws eternal victims crave, + From whom no earthly power can save, + For thou hast ta'en the bird away. + From thee, my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow, + Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow, + _Thou_ art the cause of all her woe, + Receptacle of life's decay. + + * * * * * + + +IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ANNA. + + + Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, + A million scarce would quench desire, + Still would I steep my lips in bliss, + And dwell an age on every kiss; + Nor then my soul should sated be, + Still would I kiss, and cling to thee, + Nought should my kiss from thine dissever. + Still would we kiss, and kiss forever; + E'en though the number did exceed, + The yellow harvest's countless seed, + To part would be a vain endeavour, + Could I desist?--ah! never--never. + +_November_ 16, 1806. + + * * * * * + +Printed by S. and J. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fugitive Pieces + +Author: George Gordon Noel Byron + +Release Date: March 15, 2005 [EBook #15368] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUGITIVE PIECES *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + + +</pre> + + <div class="trans-note"> + Transcriber's Note: The Table of Contents was added by the + transcriber. + </div> + <hr class="full" /> + + <h1>FUGITIVE PIECES</h1> + + <h3>BY</h3> + + <h2>GEORGE GORDON NOËL BYRON</h2> + + <h4>Reproduced from the First Edition</h4> + + <h4>WITH A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</h4> + + <h4>BY</h4> + + <h4>MARCEL KESSEL</h4> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:30%;"> + <a href="images/1.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/1.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <h4>PUBLISHED FOR</h4> + + <h4>THE FACSIMILE TEXT SOCIETY</h4> + + <h4>BY</h4> + + <h4>COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS</h4> + + <h4>NEW YORK: MCMXXXIII</h4> + + <h2>TABLE OF CONTENTS</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="sc">Bibliographical Note + <a href="#pagei">i</a></p> + + <p>ON LEAVING N--ST--D. <a href="#page1">1</a></p> + + <p>TO E----. <a href="#page3">3</a></p> + + <p>ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR + AND VERY DEAR TO HIM. <a href="#page4">4</a></p> + + <p>TO D. ---- <a href="#page5">5</a></p> + + <p>TO ---- <a href="#page6">6</a></p> + + <p>TO CAROLINE. <a href="#page7">7</a></p> + + <p>TO MARIA ---- <a href="#page10">10</a></p> + + <p>FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES, FROM THE PROMETHEUS + VINCTUS OF ÆSCHYLUS. <a href="#page11">11</a></p> + + <p>LINES in "LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH + GENTLEMAN," by J.J. ROUSSEAU, founded on facts. + <a href="#page12">12</a></p> + + <p>ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS, AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. + <a href="#page14">14</a></p> + + <p>EPITAPH ON A BELOVED FRIEND. + <a href="#page15">15</a></p> + + <p>ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL, WHEN DYING. + <a href="#page16">16</a></p> + + <p>TO MARY. <a href="#page17">17</a></p> + + <p>"When to their airy hall,..." + <a href="#page19">19</a></p> + + <p>TO ---- <a href="#page20">20</a></p> + + <p>"When I hear you express an affection so warm,..." + <a href="#page21">21</a></p> + + <p>ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF + HARROW ON THE HILL. 1806. <a href="#page23">23</a></p> + + <p>THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION. + <a href="#page25">25</a></p> + + <p>TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. + <a href="#page28">28</a></p> + + <p>ON THE DEATH OF Mr. FOX, THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL + IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN THE MORNING POST. + <a href="#page30">30</a></p> + + <p>TO A LADY, WHO PRESENTED THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR, + BRAIDED WITH HIS OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN + DECEMBER, TO MEET HIM IN THE GARDEN. + <a href="#page31">31</a></p> + + <p>TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. <a href="#page33">33</a></p> + + <p>TO JULIA! <a href="#page36">36</a></p> + + <p>TO WOMAN. <a href="#page38">38</a></p> + + <p>AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE DELIVERED BY THE AUTHOR, + PREVIOUS TO THE PERFORMANCE OF THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, AT + A PRIVATE THEATRE. <a href="#page39">39</a></p> + + <p>TO MISS E.P. <a href="#page41">41</a></p> + + <p>The TEAR. <a href="#page43">43</a></p> + + <p>REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J.M.B. PIGOT, Esq. ON THE + CRUELTY OF HIS MISTRESS. <a href="#page46">46</a></p> + + <p>GRANTA, A MEDLEY. <a href="#page49">49</a></p> + + <p>TO THE SIGHING STREPHON. + <a href="#page54">54</a></p> + + <p>THE CORNELIAN. <a href="#page57">57</a></p> + + <p>TO A. ---- <a href="#page59">59</a></p> + + <p>AS THE AUTHOR WAS DISCHARGING HIS PISTOLS IN A + GARDEN,... <a href="#page61">61</a></p> + + <p>TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM. + <a href="#page63">63</a></p> + + <p>TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS, + by DOMITIUS MARSUS. <a href="#page64">64</a></p> + + <p>IMITATION OF TIBULLUS "SULPICIA AD CERINTUM." LIB. + QUART. <a href="#page64">64</a></p> + + <p>TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. LUCTUS DE NORTE PASSERIS. + <a href="#page65">65</a></p> + + <p>IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ANNA. + <a href="#page66">66</a></p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="pagei" + id="pagei"></a>[pg i]</span> + + <h2>BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE</h2> + + <p><i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, Byron's first volume of verse, was + privately printed in the autumn of 1806, when Byron was + eighteen years of age. Passages in Byron's correspondence + indicate that as early as August of that year some of the poems + were in the printers' hands and that during the latter part of + August and during September the printing was suspended in order + that Byron might give his poems an "entire new form." The new + form consisted, in part, in an enlargement; for he wrote to + Elizabeth Pigot about September that he had nearly doubled his + poems "partly by the discovery of some I conceived to be lost, + and partly by some new productions." According to Moore, + <i>Fugitive Pieces</i> was ready for distribution in November. + The last poem in the volume bears the date of November 16, + 1806.</p> + + <p>A difficulty in supposing the date of completion of the + volume to be about November 16 is that two copies contain + inscriptions in Byron's hand with earlier dates. On the copy of + the late Mr. J.A. Spoor, of Chicago, the inscription reads: + "October 21st Tuesday 1806—Haec poemata ex dono + sunt—Georgii Gordon Byron, Vale." That on the copy in the + Morgan library reads: "Nov. 8, 1806, H.P.E.D.S.G.G.B., + Southwell.—Vale!—Byron," the initials evidently + standing for the Latin words of the preceding inscription. The + Latin "Vale" in each inscription, however, suggests that it + commemorates a leave-taking, the date referring not to the + presentation but to the farewell.</p> + + <p>It has been suggested that copies of the volume were + distributed earlier than November and that some of the poems, + printed separately and distributed in fly-leaf form, were added + later. This would explain such discrepancies as the early dates + of the inscriptions, and the presence of Byron's name on pages + 46 and 48 in a volume otherwise anonymous, but there is little + evidence to support it.</p> + + <p>Moore's account of <i>Fugitive Pieces</i> is that it was + distributed in November, Byron presenting the first copy to the + Reverend J.T. Becher, prebendary of Southwell minster, who + objected to what he considered the too voluptuous coloring of + the poem "To Mary." The objection led Byron to suppress the + edition immediately, he himself burning nearly every copy. This + account is corroborated in part by Miss Pigot and in part by + Byron.</p> + + <p>Immediately after the destruction, Byron began the + preparation of a second volume, to replace <i>Fugitive + Pieces</i>. This appeared in January, 1807, as <i>Poems on + Various Occasions</i>, Byron describing it as "vastly correct + and miraculously chaste." Of the 38 poems that constitute + <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, all except "To Mary," "To Caroline," + and the last six stanzas of "To Miss E.P." were reprinted in + <i>Poems on Various Occasions</i>. Nineteen of the original 38 + poems occur in Byron's third work, <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, + published in June or July, 1807. All three editions were + printed by S. and J. Ridge, booksellers of Newark, England.</p> + + <p>Byron himself never reprinted the poems "To Mary" or "To + Caroline," or the last six stanzas of "To Miss E.P." Except in + a limited facsimile of <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, supervised by H. + Buxton Forman in 1886, "To Mary" has never been + reprinted—not even in supposedly complete editions of + Byron's works.</p> + + <p>Only four copies of <i>Fugitive Pieces</i> are known to-day, + and one of these is incomplete. The copy from which the present + facsimile is made was originally given by Byron to Becher and + preserved by him in spite of his objections to the poem "To + Mary." From Becher's family it passed into the possession of + Mr. Faulkner, of Louth, solicitor for the Becher family. In + 1885 it was in the possession of H.W. Ball, antiquary and + bookseller of Barton-on-Humber, who sold it to H. Buxton + Forman. Forman used it for his facsimile, but incorporated + certain manuscript corrections of the original, so that his + facsimile is not exact. The original is now owned by Mr. Thomas + J. Wise, who has kindly permitted its use for the present + facsimile.</p> + + <p>Of the other three copies, the incomplete one, lacking pages + 17-20 ("To Mary") and all after page 58, is in the possession + of the family of the late Mr. H.C. Roe, of Nottingham. This was + originally sent by Byron to Pigot, then studying medicine in + Edinburgh. Byron later asked Pigot to destroy the copy and + Pigot seems to have complied so far as to tear out the + offending verses "To Mary." For many years it was thought that + only the Pigot and Becher copies had escaped destruction at + Byron's hands. But another complete copy came to light in 1907 + and is now in the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York. This + contains numerous manuscript corrections and alterations, and + seems to have been used as a proof copy for <i>Poems on Various + Occasions</i> (not, as has sometimes been stated, for <i>Hours + of Idleness</i>). A fourth copy, also complete, was offered at + public sale in 1912, and is now in the hands of the executors + of the late Mr. J.A. Spoor, of Chicago.</p> + + <p>The present facsimile is an exact photographic reproduction + of the text with all typographical and other errors as in the + original, except that certain manuscript corrections which + appear in the original perforce appear in the photographic + reproduction, as follows:</p> + + <table summary="errata" + align="center" + width="90%"> + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 3, <i>To E</i>.... line 2.</td> + + <td align="left" + valign="top">"me" has been inserted by hand.</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 8, stanza 5, line 2.</td> + + <td align="left" + valign="top">A letter ("s"?) has been erased + between "so" and "oft," and the second "e" of + "meets" has been inserted to replace "l."</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 14, line 10.</td> + + <td align="left" + valign="top">"j" in "jargon" has been inserted by + hand.</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 19, stanza (11), line 1.</td> + + <td align="left" + valign="top">"night" was originally printed + "might," the "m" later changed to "n" by + erasure.</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 24, stanza 4, line 4.</td> + + <td align="left">"s" in "setting" has been inserted by + hand.</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 25, <i>Thoughts Suggested by a + College Examination</i>, line 4.</td> + + <td align="left" + valign="top">"e" in "tremble" has been inserted, + correcting "trimble."</td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td align="left" + valign="top">Page 31, line 4.</td> + + <td align="left">"f" in "fast" was originally "l," but + was changed by hand.</td> + </tr> + </table> + + <p>The text has been collated with that in the Morgan library, + and except for later corrections made in ink in the Morgan + copy, the only differences noted are as follows:</p> + + <blockquote> + <p>1.) On p. 5, in the first line of the footnote, the + Morgan copy reads "piece" where the Wise copy reads + "p˙ece," the "ı" lacking.</p> + + <p>2.) The two pages of signature M are incorrectly + numbered in the Wise copy as "41, 41," this copy having no + page numbered 42; and are incorrectly numbered in the + Morgan copy as "40, 42," the latter copy having no page + numbered 41. The text of these pages is identical.</p> + </blockquote> + + <p class="author">M.K.</p> + + <h2><i>FUGITIVE PIECES.</i></h2> + + <center> + TO + </center> + + <center> + THOSE FRIENDS, + </center> + + <center> + AT + </center> + + <center> + WHOSE REQUEST THEY WERE PRINTED, + </center> + + <center> + FOR WHOSE + </center> + + <center> + AMUSEMENT OR APPROBATION + </center> + + <center> + THEY ARE + </center> + + <center> + SOLELY INTENDED; + </center> + + <center> + These TRIFLES are respectfully dedicated, + </center> + + <center> + BY THE + </center> + + <center> + <i>AUTHOR</i>. + </center> + + <p>As these POEMS are never intended to meet the public eye, no + apology is necessary for the form in which they now appear. + They are printed merely for the perusal of a few friends to + whom they are dedicated; who will look upon them with + indulgence; and as most of them were, composed between the age + of 15 and 17, their defects will be pardoned or forgotten, in + the youth and inexperience of the WRITER.</p> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page1" + id="page1"></a>[pg 1]</span> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/13.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/13.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <h1><i>FUGITIVE PIECES.</i></h1> + <hr /> + + <h2>ON LEAVING N—ST—D.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Through the cracks in these battlements loud the + winds whistle,</p> + + <p class="i2">For the hall of my fathers is gone to + decay;</p> + + <p>And in yon once gay garden the hemlock and + thistle</p> + + <p class="i2">Have choak'd up the rose, which late + bloom'd in the way.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Of the barons of old, who once proudly to battle</p> + + <p class="i2">Led their vassals from Europe to + Palestine's plain;</p> + + <p>The escutcheon and shield, which with ev'ry blast + rattle,</p> + + <p class="i2">Are the only sad vestiges now that + remain.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more does old Robert, with harp-stringing + numbers,</p> + + <p class="i2">Raise a flame in the breast, for the war + laurell'd + wreath,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page2" + id="page2"></a>[pg 2]</span> + + <p>Near Askalon's Towers John of + Horiston<a id="footnotetag1" + name="footnotetag1"></a><a href="#footnote1"><sup>1</sup></a> + slumbers,</p> + + <p class="i2">Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel by + death.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of + Cressy,</p> + + <p class="i2">For the safety of Edward and ENGLAND they + fell,</p> + + <p>My fathers! the tears of your country redress + ye,</p> + + <p class="i2">How you fought! how you died! still her + annals can tell.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>On <a id="footnotetag2" + name="footnotetag2"></a><a href="#footnote2"><sup>2</sup></a>Marston + with Rupert<a id="footnotetag3" + name="footnotetag3"></a><a href="#footnote3"><sup>3</sup></a> + 'gainst traitors contending,</p> + + <p class="i2">Four Brothers enrich'd with their blood + the bleak field</p> + + <p>For Charles the Martyr their country defending,</p> + + <p class="i2">Till death their attachment to royalty + scal'd.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Shades of heroes farewell! your descendant + departing,</p> + + <p class="i2">From the seat of his ancestors, bids ye + adieu!</p> + + <p>Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting</p> + + <p class="i2">New courage, he'll think upon glory, and + you.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though a tear dims his eye at this sad + separation,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis nature, not fear, which commands his + regret;</p> + + <p>Far distant he goes with the same emulation,</p> + + <p class="i2">In the grave, he alone can his fathers + forget.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your fame, and your memory, still will he + cherish,</p> + + <p class="i2">He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your + renown;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page3" + id="page3"></a>[pg 3]</span> + + <p>Like you will he live, or like you will he + perish,</p> + + <p class="i2">When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with + your own.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1803.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote1" + name="footnote1"></a><b>Footnote 1:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag1">(return)</a> + + <p>Horiston Castle, in <i>Derbyshire</i>, an ancient seat + of the B—r—n family.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote2" + name="footnote2"></a><b>Footnote 2:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag2">(return)</a> + + <p>The battle of <i>Marston Moor</i>, where the adherents + of CHARLES I. were defeated.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote3" + name="footnote3"></a><b>Footnote 3:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag3">(return)</a> + + <p>Son of the Elector Palatine, and related to CHARLES I. + He afterwards commanded the Fleet, in the Reign of CHARLES + II.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO E——.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Let Folly smile, to view the names</p> + + <p class="i2">Of thee and me in friendship twin'd,</p> + + <p>Yet virtue will have greater claims</p> + + <p class="i2">To love, than rank with vice + combin'd.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And though unequal is <i>thy</i> fate,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since title deck'd my higher birth;</p> + + <p>Yet envy not this gaudy state,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Thine</i> is the pride of modest + worth.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our <i>souls</i> at least congenial meet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor can <i>thy</i> lot <i>my</i> rank + disgrace;</p> + + <p>Our intercourse is not less sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since worth of rank supplies the + place.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"><i>November</i>, 1802.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/15.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/15.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page4" + id="page4"></a>[pg 4]</span> + + <h2>ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR AND VERY + DEAR TO HIM.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening + gloom,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the + grove,</p> + + <p>Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb,</p> + + <p class="i2">And scatter flowers on the dust I + love.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,</p> + + <p class="i2">That clay where once such animation + beam'd;</p> + + <p>The king of terrors seiz'd her as his prey,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not worth, nor beauty, have her life + redeem'd.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! could that king of terrors pity feel,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of + fate,</p> + + <p>Not here the mourner would his grief reveal,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not here the muse her virtues would + relate.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But wherefore weep! her matchless spirit soars,</p> + + <p class="i2">Beyond where aplendid shines the orb of + day.</p> + + <p>And weeping angels lead her to those bowers,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds + repay.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign!</p> + + <p class="i2">And madly God-like Providence + accuse!</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page5" + id="page5"></a>[pg 5]</span> + + <p>Ah! no far fly from me attempts so vain,</p> + + <p class="i2">I'll ne'er submission to my God + refuse.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous + face;</p> + + <p>Still they call forth my warm affection's tear.</p> + + <p class="i2">Such sorrow brings me honour, not + disgrace.<a id="footnotetag4" + name="footnotetag4"></a><a href="#footnote4"><sup>4</sup></a></p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1802.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote4" + name="footnote4"></a><b>Footnote 4:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag4">(return)</a> + + <p>The Author claims the indulgence of the reader, more for + this piece, than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but + as it was written at an earlier period than the rest, + (being composed at the age of 14) and his first Essay, be + preferred submitting it to the indulgence of his friends in + its present state, to making either addition or + alteration.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO D. ——</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp,</p> + + <p class="i2">A friend whom death alone could + sever,</p> + + <p>But envy with malignant grasp,</p> + + <p class="i2">Has torn thee from my breast for + ever.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>True, she has forc'd thee from my <i>breast</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">But in my <i>heart</i> thou keep'st thy + seat;</p> + + <p>There, there, thine image still must rest,</p> + + <p class="i2">Until that heart shall cease to beat.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page6" + id="page6"></a>[pg 6]</span> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And when the grave restores her dead,</p> + + <p class="i2">When life again to dust is given,</p> + + <p>On <i>thy dear</i> breast I'll lay my head,</p> + + <p class="i2">Without <i>thee</i>! <i>where</i> would + be <i>my Heaven?</i></p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"><i>February</i>, 1803.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO ——</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,</p> + + <p class="i2">Suffus'd in tears implore to stay;</p> + + <p>And heard <i>unmov'd</i>, thy plenteous sighs,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which said far more than words could + say.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though deep the grief, <i>thy</i> tears exprest,</p> + + <p class="i2">When love, and hope, lay <i>both</i> + o'erthrown,</p> + + <p>Yet still, my girl, <i>this</i> bleeding breast,</p> + + <p class="i2">Throbb'd with deep sorrow, as <i>thine + own</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">When <i>thy</i> sweet lips where join'd + to mine;</p> + + <p>The tears that from <i>my</i> eye-lids flow'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Were lost in those which fell from + <i>thine</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Thy</i> gushing tears had quench'd its + flame,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page7" + id="page7"></a>[pg 7]</span> + + <p>And as thy tongue essay'd to speak,</p> + + <p class="i2">In <i>sighs alone</i> it breath'd my + name.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,</p> + + <p class="i2">In vain our fate in sighs deplore;</p> + + <p>Remembrance only can remain,</p> + + <p class="i2">But <i>that</i>, will make us weep the + more.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Again, thou best belov'd, adieu!</p> + + <p class="i2">Ah! if thou canst o'ercome regret,</p> + + <p>Nor let thy mind past joys review,</p> + + <p class="i2">Our only <i>hope</i> is to + <i>forget</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1805.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO CAROLINE.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You say you love, and yet your eye</p> + + <p class="i2">No symptom of that love conveys,</p> + + <p>You say you love, yet know not why,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your cheek no sign of love betrays.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! did that breast with ardour glow,</p> + + <p>With me alone it joy could know,</p> + + <p>Or feel with me the listless woe,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which racks my heart when far from + thee.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page8" + id="page8"></a>[pg 8]</span> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Whene'er we meet my blushes rise,</p> + + <p class="i2">And mantle through my purpled cheek,</p> + + <p>But yet no blush to mine replies,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor e'en your eyes your love bespeak.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your voice alone declares your flame,</p> + + <p>And though so sweet it breaths my name;</p> + + <p>Our passions still are not the same,</p> + + <p class="i2">Alas! you cannot love like me.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow,</p> + + <p class="i2">And though so oft it meets my kiss,</p> + + <p>It burns with no responsive glow,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor melts like mine in dewy bliss.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! what are words to love like mine,</p> + + <p>Though uttered by a voice like thine,</p> + + <p>I still in murmurs must repine,</p> + + <p class="i2">And think that love can ne'er be + true.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Which meets me with no joyous sign,</p> + + <p class="i2">Without a sigh which bids adieu;</p> + + <p>How different is my love from thine,</p> + + <p class="i2">How keen my grief when leaving you.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page9" + id="page9"></a>[pg 9]</span> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your image fills my anxious breast,</p> + + <p>Till day declines adown the West,</p> + + <p>And when, at night, I sink to rest,</p> + + <p class="i2">In dreams your fancied form I view.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis then your breast, no longer cold,</p> + + <p class="i2">With equal ardour seems to burn,</p> + + <p>While close your arms around me fold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your lips my kiss with warmth return.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>10.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! would these joyous moments last;</p> + + <p>Vain HOPE! the gay delusions past,</p> + + <p>That voice!—ah! no, 'tis but the blast,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which echoes through the neighbouring + grove.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>11.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But when <i>awake</i>, your lips I seek,</p> + + <p class="i2">And clasp enraptur'd all your charms,</p> + + <p>So chill's the pressure of your cheek,</p> + + <p class="i2">I fold a statue in my arms.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>12.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If thus, when to my heart embrac'd,</p> + + <p>No pleasure in your eyes is trac'd,</p> + + <p>You may be prudent, fair, and chaste,</p> + + <p class="i2">But ah! my girl, you <i>do not + love</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + <span class="pagenum"><a name="page10" + id="page10"></a>[pg 10]</span> + + <h2>TO MARIA ——</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Since now the hour is come at last,</p> + + <p class="i2">When you must quit your anxious + lover,</p> + + <p>Since now, our dream of bliss is past,</p> + + <p class="i2">One pang, my girl, and all is over.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Alas! that pang will be severe,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which bids us part, to meet no more;</p> + + <p>Which tears me far from <i>one</i> so dear,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Departing</i> for a distant shore.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Well! we have pass'd some happy hours,</p> + + <p class="i2">And joy will mingle with our tears;</p> + + <p>When thinking on these ancient towers,</p> + + <p class="i2">The shelter of our infant years.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where from this gothic casement's height,</p> + + <p class="i2">We view'd the lake, the park, the + dell,</p> + + <p>And still though tears obstruct our sight,</p> + + <p class="i2">We lingering look a last + farewell.—</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>O'er fields, through which we us'd to run,</p> + + <p class="i2">And spend the hours in childish play,</p> + + <p>O'er shades where, when our race was done,</p> + + <p class="i2">Reposing on my breast you lay,</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,</p> + + <p class="i2">Forgot to scare the hovering + flies,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page11" + id="page11"></a>[pg 11]</span> + + <p>Yet envied every fly the kiss,</p> + + <p class="i2">It dar'd to give your slumbering + eyes.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>See still the little painted <i>bark</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">In which I row'd you o'er the lake;</p> + + <p>See there, high waving o'er the park,</p> + + <p class="i2">The <i>elm</i>, I clamber'd for your + sake.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>These times are past, our joys are gone,</p> + + <p class="i2">You leave me, leave this happy vale;</p> + + <p>These scenes, I must retrace alone,</p> + + <p class="i2">Without thee, what will they avail.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who can conceive, who has not prov'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">The anguish of a last embrace?</p> + + <p>When torn from all you fondly lov'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">You bid a long adieu to peace.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>This</i> is the deepest of our woes,</p> + + <p class="i2">For <i>this</i>, these tears our cheeks + bedew,</p> + + <p>This is of love the final close,</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh GOD! the fondest, <i>last</i> + adieu!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1805.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES, FROM THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS + OF ÆSCHYLUS.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Great Jove! to whose Almighty Throne,</p> + + <p class="i2">Both Gods and mortals homage + pay,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page12" + id="page12"></a>[pg 12]</span> + + <p>Ne'er may my soul thy power disown,</p> + + <p class="i2">Thy dread behests ne'er disobey.</p> + + <p>Oft shall the sacred victim fall,</p> + + <p>In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall;</p> + + <p>My voice shall raise no impious strain,</p> + + <p>'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <hr /> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>How different now thy joyless fate,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since first Hesione thy bride,</p> + + <p>When plac'd aloft in godlike state,</p> + + <p class="i2">The blushing beauty by thy side.</p> + + <p>Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smil'd,</p> + + <p>And mirthful strains the hours beguil'd;</p> + + <p>The nymphs and Tritons danc'd around,</p> + + <p>Nor yet thy doom was fix'd nor Jove relentless + frown'd.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">HARROW, <i>December</i> 1, 1804.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>LINES in "LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH + GENTLEMAN," by J.J. ROUSSEAU, founded on Facts.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Away, away,—your flattering arts,</p> + + <p>May now betray some simpler hearts;</p> + + <p>And <i>you</i> will <i>smile</i> at their + believing,</p> + + <p>And <i>they</i> shall <i>weep</i> at your + deceiving.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page13" + id="page13"></a>[pg 13]</span> + + <h4><i>Answer to the above, address'd to Miss + ——</i>.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Dear simple girl those flattering arts,</p> + + <p>(From which you'd guard frail female hearts,)</p> + + <p>Exist but in imagination,</p> + + <p>Mere phantoms of your own creation;</p> + + <p>For he who sees that witching grace,</p> + + <p>That perfect form, that lovely face;</p> + + <p>With eyes admiring, oh! believe me,</p> + + <p>He never wishes to deceive thee;</p> + + <p>Once let you at your mirror glance,</p> + + <p>You'll there descry that elegance,</p> + + <p>Which from our sex demands such praises,</p> + + <p>But envy in the other raises.—</p> + + <p>Then he who tells you of your beauty,</p> + + <p>Believe me only does his duty;</p> + + <p>Ah! fly not from the candid youth,</p> + + <p>It is not flattery, but truth.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"><i>July</i>, 1804.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/25.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/25.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page14" + id="page14"></a>[pg 14]</span> + + <h2>ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS, AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where are those honours? IDA, once your own,</p> + + <p>When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne;</p> + + <p>As ancient Rome fast falling to disgrace,</p> + + <p>Hail'd a Barbarian in her Cæsar's place;</p> + + <p>So you degenerate share as hard a fate,</p> + + <p>And seat <i>Pomposus</i>, where your <i>Probus</i> + sate.</p> + + <p>Of narrow brain, but of a narrower soul,</p> + + <p>Pomposus, holds you in his harsh controul;</p> + + <p>Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd,</p> + + <p>With florid jargon, and with vain parade;</p> + + <p>With noisy nonsense, and new fangled rules,</p> + + <p>(Such as were ne'er before beheld in schools,)</p> + + <p>Mistaking <i>pedantry</i>, for <i>learning's</i> + laws,</p> + + <p>He governs, sanctioned but by self applause.</p> + + <p>With him, the same dire fate attending Rome,</p> + + <p>Ill-fated IDA! soon must stamp your doom;</p> + + <p>Like her o'erthrown, forever lost to fame,</p> + + <p>No trace of science left you, but the name.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">HARROW, <i>July</i>, 1805.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/26.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/26.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page15" + id="page15"></a>[pg 15]</span> + + <h2>EPITAPH ON A BELOVED FRIEND.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh Boy! forever lov'd, for ever dear,</p> + + <p>What fruitless tears have wash'd thy honour'd + bier;</p> + + <p>What sighs re-echoed to thy parting breath,</p> + + <p>Whilst thou wert struggling in the pangs of + death.</p> + + <p>Could tears have turn'd the tyrant in his + course,</p> + + <p>Could sighs have check'd his dart's relentless + force;</p> + + <p>Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,</p> + + <p>Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey.</p> + + <p>Thou still had'st liv'd, to bless my aching + sight,</p> + + <p>Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight:</p> + + <p>Though low thy lot, since in a cottage born,</p> + + <p>No titles did thy humble name adorn,</p> + + <p>To me, far dearer, was thy artless love,</p> + + <p>Than all the joys, wealth, fame, and friends could + prove.</p> + + <p>For thee alone I liv'd, or wish'd to live,</p> + + <p>(Oh God! if impious, this rash word forgive)</p> + + <p>Heart broken now, I wait an equal doom,</p> + + <p>Content to join thee in thy turf-clad tomb;</p> + + <p>Where this frail form compos'd in endless rest,</p> + + <p>I'll make my last, cold, pillow on thy breast;</p> + + <p>That breast where oft in life, I've laid my + head,</p> + + <p>Will yet receive me mouldering with the + dead;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page16" + id="page16"></a>[pg 16]</span> + + <p>This life resign'd without one parting sigh,</p> + + <p>Together in one bed of earth we'll lie!</p> + + <p>Together share the fate to mortals given,</p> + + <p>Together mix our dust, and hope for Heaven.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">HARROW, 1803.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL, WHEN DYING.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Animula! vagula, Blandula,</p> + + <p>Hospes, comesque, corporis,</p> + + <p>Quœ nunc abibis in Loca?</p> + + <p>Pallidula, rigida, nudula,</p> + + <p>Nec ut soles dabis Jocos.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4><i>Translation</i>.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite!</p> + + <p>Friend and associate of this clay,</p> + + <p class="i2">To what unknown region borne,</p> + + <p>Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight?</p> + + <p>No more with wonted humour gay,</p> + + <p class="i2">But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1806.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/28.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/28.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page17" + id="page17"></a>[pg 17]</span> + + <h2>TO MARY.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Rack'd by the flames of jealous rage,</p> + + <p class="i2">By all her torments deeply curst,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of hell-born passions far the worst,</p> + + <p>What hope my pangs can now assuage?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I tore me from thy circling arms,</p> + + <p class="i2">To madness fir'd by doubts and fears,</p> + + <p class="i2">Heedless of thy suspicious tears,</p> + + <p>Nor feeling for thy feign'd alarms.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Resigning every thought of bliss,</p> + + <p class="i2">Forever, from your love I go,</p> + + <p class="i2">Reckless of all the tears that flow,</p> + + <p>Disdaining thy polluted kiss.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more that bosom heaves for me,</p> + + <p class="i2">On it another seeks repose,</p> + + <p class="i2">Another riot's on its snows,</p> + + <p>Our bonds are broken, both are free.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more with mutual love we burn,</p> + + <p class="i2">No more the genial couch we bless,</p> + + <p class="i2">Dissolving in the fond caress;</p> + + <p>Our love o'erthrown will ne'er return.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page18" + id="page18"></a>[pg 18]</span> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though love than ours could ne'er be truer,</p> + + <p class="i2">Yet flames too fierce themselves + destroy,</p> + + <p class="i2">Embraces oft repeated cloy,</p> + + <p><i>Ours</i> came too <i>frequent</i>, to endure.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>You quickly sought a second lover,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I too proud to share a heart,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where once I held the <i>whole</i>, not + <i>part</i>,</p> + + <p>Another mistress must discover.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though not the <i>first</i> one, who hast blest + me,</p> + + <p class="i2">Yet I will own, you was the dearest,</p> + + <p class="i2">The one, unto my bosom nearest;</p> + + <p>So I conceiv'd, when I possest thee.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Even now I cannot well forget thee,</p> + + <p class="i2">And though no more in folds of + pleasure,</p> + + <p class="i2">Kiss follows kiss in countless + measure,</p> + + <p>I hope <i>you</i> sometimes will regret me.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>10.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And smile to think how oft were done,</p> + + <p class="i2">What prudes declare a sin to act is,</p> + + <p class="i2">And never but in darkness practice,</p> + + <p>Fearing to trust the tell-tale sun.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page19" + id="page19"></a>[pg 19]</span> + + <h4>11.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And wisely therefore night prefer,</p> + + <p class="i2">Whose dusky mantle veils their fears,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of <i>this</i>, and <i>that</i>, of eyes + and ears,</p> + + <p>Affording shades to those that err.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>12.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now, by my foul, 'tis most delight</p> + + <p class="i2">To view each other panting, dying.</p> + + <p class="i2">In love's <i>extatic posture</i> + lying,</p> + + <p>Grateful to <i>feeling</i>, as to <i>sight</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>13.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And had the glaring God of Day,</p> + + <p class="i2">(As formerly of Mars and Venus)</p> + + <p class="i2">Divulg'd the joys which pass'd between + us,</p> + + <p>Regardless of his <i>peeping</i> ray.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>14.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Of love admiring such a <i>sample</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Gods and Goddesses descending,</p> + + <p class="i2">Had never fancied us offending,</p> + + <p>But <i>wisely</i> followed <i>our example</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When to their airy hall, my father's voice,</p> + + <p>Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice,</p> + + <p>When pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride,</p> + + <p>Or dark in mist, descend the mountain's + side;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page20" + id="page20"></a>[pg 20]</span> + + <p>Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns,</p> + + <p>To mark the spot, where earth to earth returns.</p> + + <p>No lengthen'd scroll of virtue, and renown,</p> + + <p>My <i>epitaph</i>, shall be my name alone;</p> + + <p>If <i>that</i> with honour fails to crown my + clay,</p> + + <p>Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay;</p> + + <p><i>That</i>, only <i>that</i>, shall single out the + shot,</p> + + <p>By <i>that</i> remember'd, or fore'er + forgot.—</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1803.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO ——</h2> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! when shall the grave hide forever my sorrow?</p> + + <p class="i2">Oh! when shall my soul wing her flight + from this clay?</p> + + <p>The present is hell! and the coming to-morrow,</p> + + <p class="i2">But brings with new torture, the curse of + to-day.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>From my eye flows no tear, from my lips fall no + curses,</p> + + <p class="i2">I blast not the fiends, who have hurl'd + me from bliss,</p> + + <p>For poor is the soul which bewailing rehearses,</p> + + <p class="i2">Its querulous grief, when in anguish like + this—</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes + bright'ning.</p> + + <p class="i2">Would my lips breathe a flame, which no + stream could + assuage,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page21" + id="page21"></a>[pg 21]</span> + + <p>On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its + lightning,</p> + + <p class="i2">With transport my tongue give a loose to + its rage.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But now tears and curses alike unavailing,</p> + + <p class="i2">Would add to the souls of our tyrants + delight;</p> + + <p>Could they view us, our sad separation + bewailing,</p> + + <p class="i2">Their merciless hearts would rejoice at + the sight.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet still though we bend with a feign'd + resignation,</p> + + <p class="i2">Life beams not for us with one ray that + can cheer,</p> + + <p>Love and hope upon earth bring no more + consolation,</p> + + <p class="i2">In the grave is our hope, for in life is + our fear.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place + me,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since in life, love and friendship, for + ever are fled,</p> + + <p>If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee,</p> + + <p class="i2">Perhaps they will leave + unmolested—the dead.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1805.</p> + <hr /> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When I hear you express an affection so warm,</p> + + <p class="i2">Ne'er think, my belov'd, that I do not + believe,</p> + + <p>For your lip, would the soul of suspicion + disarm,</p> + + <p class="i2">And your eye beams a ray, which can never + deceive.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page22" + id="page22"></a>[pg 22]</span> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet still, this fond bosom regrets whilst + adoring,</p> + + <p class="i2">That love like the leaf, must fall into + the sear,</p> + + <p>That age will come on, when remembrance + deploring,</p> + + <p class="i2">Contemplates the scenes of her youth, + with a tear.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>That the time must arrive, when no longer + retaining</p> + + <p class="i2">Their auburn, these locks must wave thin + to the breeze.</p> + + <p>When a few silver hairs of those tresses + remaining,</p> + + <p class="i2">Prove nature a prey to decay, and + disease.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis this, my belov'd, which spreads gloom o'er my + features</p> + + <p class="i2">Tho' I ne'er shall presume to arraign the + decree;</p> + + <p>Which God has proclaim'd as the fate of his + creatures,</p> + + <p class="i2">In the death which one day will deprive + me of thee.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No jargon of priests o'er our union was + mutter'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">To rivet the fetters of husband and + wife;</p> + + <p>By our lips, by our hearts, were our vows alone + utter'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">To perform them, in full, would ask more + than a life.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But as death my belov'd, soon or late, shall + o'ertake us,</p> + + <p class="i2">And our breasts which alive with such + sympathy glow,</p> + + <p>Will sleep in the grave, till the blast shall awake + us,</p> + + <p class="i2">When calling the dead, in earth's bosom + laid low.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page23" + id="page23"></a>[pg 23]</span> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of + pleasure,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which from passion like ours will + unceasingly flow;</p> + + <p>Let us pass round the cup of love's bliss in full + measure,</p> + + <p class="i2">And quaff the contents as our nectar + below.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1805.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW ON + THE HILL. 1806.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd + recollection,</p> + + <p class="i2">Embitters the present, compar'd with the + past;</p> + + <p>Where science first dawn'd on the powers of + reflection,</p> + + <p class="i2">And friendships were form'd, too romantic + to last.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Where fancy yet joys, to retrace the + resemblance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of comrades in friendship, and mischief + allied;</p> + + <p>How welcome once more your ne'er fading + remembrance,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which rests in the bosom, though hope is + deny'd.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Again I revisit the hills where we sported,</p> + + <p class="i2">The streams where we swam, and the fields + where we fought;</p> + + <p>The school where loud warn'd by the bell we + resorted,</p> + + <p class="i2">To pore o'er the precepts by Pedagogues + taught.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page24" + id="page24"></a>[pg 24]</span> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">As reclining at eve on yon tombstone I + lay;</p> + + <p>Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I + wander'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">To catch the last gleam of the sun's + setting ray.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I once more view the room with spectators + surrounded,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where as Zanga I trod on Alonzo + o'erthrown;</p> + + <p>While to swell my young pride such applauses + resounded,</p> + + <p class="i2">I fancied that MOSSOP<a id="footnotetag5" + name="footnotetag5"></a><a href="#footnote5"><sup>5</sup></a> + himself was outshone.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Or as Lear I pour'd for the deep imprecation,</p> + + <p class="i2">By my daughters of kingdom and reason + depriv'd:</p> + + <p>Till fir'd by loud plaudits, and self adulation,</p> + + <p class="i2">I consider'd myself as a <i>Garrick</i> + reviv'd.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ye dreams of my boyhood how much I regret you,</p> + + <p class="i2">As your memory beams through this + agoniz'd breast,</p> + + <p>Thus sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though this heart throbs to bursting by + anguish possest.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I thought this poor brain fever'd even to + madness,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of tears as of reason forever was + drain'd,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page25" + id="page25"></a>[pg 25]</span> + + <p>But the drops which now flow down <i>this</i> bosom + of sadness,</p> + + <p class="i2">Convince me, the springs have some + moisture retain'd.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet scenes of my childhood! your blest + recollection,</p> + + <p class="i2">Has wrung from these eye-lids to weeping + long dead,</p> + + <p>In torrents, the tears of my warmest affection,</p> + + <p class="i2">The last and the fondest, I ever shall + shed.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote5" + name="footnote5"></a><b>Footnote 5:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag5">(return)</a> + + <p>MOSSOP, a cotempory of GARRICK, famous for his + performance of <i>Zanga</i>, in YOUNG's tragedy of the + <i>Revenge</i>.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>High in the midst surrounded by his peers,</p> + + <p>M—ns—l his ample front sublime + uprears;</p> + + <p>Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God,</p> + + <p>While Sophs and Freshmen, tremble at his nod.</p> + + <p>Whilst all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom,</p> + + <p><i>His</i> voice in thunder shakes the sounding + dome;</p> + + <p>Denouncing dire reproach, to luckless fools,</p> + + <p>Unskill'd to plod in mathematic rules.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Happy the youth! in Euclid's axioms tried,</p> + + <p>Though little vers'd in any art beside;</p> + + <p>Who with scarce sense to pen an <i>English</i> + letter,</p> + + <p>Yet with precision, scans an <i>attic + metre</i>.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page26" + id="page26"></a>[pg 26]</span> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What! though he knows not how his fathers bled,</p> + + <p>When civil discord pil'd the fields with dead,</p> + + <p>When Edward bade his conquering bands advance,</p> + + <p>Or Henry trampled on the crest of France;</p> + + <p>Though marvelling at the name of <i>Magna + Charta</i>,</p> + + <p>Yet, well he recollects the <i>laws of + Sparta</i>.</p> + + <p>Can tell what edicts sage <i>Lycurgus</i> made,</p> + + <p>Whilst <i>Blackstone's</i> on the <i>shelf + neglected</i> laid;</p> + + <p>Of <i>Grecian dramas</i> vaunts the deathless + fame,</p> + + <p>Of <i>Avon's bard</i>, remembering scarce the + name.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Such is the youth, whose scientific pate,</p> + + <p>Class honours, medals, fellowships await;</p> + + <p>Or even perhaps the <i>declamation</i> prize,</p> + + <p>If to such glorious height, he lifts his eyes.</p> + + <p>But lo! no <i>common</i> orator can hope</p> + + <p>The envied silver cup within his scope;</p> + + <p>Not that our <i>heads</i> much eloquence + require,</p> + + <p>The ATHENIAN's glowing style, or TULLY's fire.</p> + + <p>The <i>manner</i> of the speech is nothing, + since</p> + + <p>We do not try by <i>speaking</i> to + <i>convince</i>;</p> + + <p>Be other <i>orators</i> of pleasing + <i>proud</i>,</p> + + <p>We speak to <i>please</i> ourselves, not <i>move</i> + the crowd.</p> + + <p>Our gravity prefers the <i>muttering</i> tone,</p> + + <p>A proper mixture of the <i>squeak and groan</i>;</p> + + <p>No borrow'd <i>grace</i> of <i>action</i>, must be + seen,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page27" + id="page27"></a>[pg 27]</span> + + <p>The slightest motion would displease the + <i>dean</i>.</p> + + <p>Whilst every staring graduate would prate,</p> + + <p>Against what, <i>he</i> could never imitate.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The man, who hopes t' obtain the promis'd cup,</p> + + <p>Must in one <i>posture</i> stand, and <i>ne'er look + up</i>,</p> + + <p>Nor <i>stop</i>, but rattle over <i>every</i> + word,</p> + + <p>No matter <i>what</i>, so it can <i>not</i> be + heard;</p> + + <p>Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest,</p> + + <p>Who speaks the <i>fastest</i>, 's sure to speak the + <i>best</i>;</p> + + <p>Who utters most within the shortest space,</p> + + <p>May safely hope to win the <i>wordy race</i>.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The sons of <i>Science these</i>, who thus + repaid,</p> + + <p>Linger in ease, in Granta's sluggish shade;</p> + + <p>Where on Cam's sedgy banks supine they lie,</p> + + <p>Unknown, unhonour'd live, unwept for, die.</p> + + <p>Dull as the pictures, which adorn their halls,</p> + + <p>They think all learning fix'd within their + walls:</p> + + <p>In manners rude, in foolish forms precise,</p> + + <p>All modern arts, affecting to despise.</p> + + <p>Yet prizing <i>Bentley's<a id="footnotetag6" + name="footnotetag6"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a> + Brunck's<a id="footnotetag6a" + name="footnotetag6a"></a><a href="#footnote6"><sup>6</sup></a></i> + or <i>Porson's</i><a id="footnotetag7" + name="footnotetag7"></a><a href="#footnote7"><sup>7</sup></a> + note,</p> + + <p>More than the <i>verse, on which the critic + wrote</i>;</p> + + <p>With eager haste, they court the tool of power,</p> + + <p>(Whether 'tis PITT or PETTY rules the + hour:)</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page28" + id="page28"></a>[pg 28]</span> + + <p>To <i>him</i>, with suppliant smiles they bend the + head,</p> + + <p>Whilst mitres, prebends, to their eyes are + spread.</p> + + <p>But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,</p> + + <p>They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his + place;</p> + + <p><i>Such</i> are the men who learning's treasures + guard,</p> + + <p><i>Such</i> is their <i>practice</i>, such is their + <i>reward</i>;</p> + + <p>This <i>much</i> at least we may presume to say,</p> + + <p>Th' <i>reward's</i> scarce equal, to the + <i>price</i> they <i>pay</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">1806.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote6" + name="footnote6"></a><b>Footnote 6:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag6">(return)</a> + + <p>Celebrated Critics.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote7" + name="footnote7"></a><b>Footnote 7:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag7">(return)</a> + + <p>The present Greek Professor at Cambridge.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE.</h2> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This faint resemblance of thy charms,</p> + + <p class="i2">(Though strong as mortal art could + give)</p> + + <p>My constant heart of fear disarms,</p> + + <p class="i2">Revives my hopes, and bids me live.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here I can trace the locks of gold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which round thy snowy forehead wave,</p> + + <p>The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould,</p> + + <p class="i2">The lips which made me <i>Beauty's</i> + slave.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here I can trace—ah no! that eye,</p> + + <p class="i2">Whose azure floats in liquid + fire,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page29" + id="page29"></a>[pg 29]</span> + + <p>Must all the painter's art defy,</p> + + <p class="i2">And bid him from the task retire.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Here I behold, its beauteous hue,</p> + + <p class="i2">But where's the beam of soft desire?</p> + + <p>Which gave a lustre to its blue,</p> + + <p class="i2">Love, only love, could e'er inspire.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet copy! far more dear to me,</p> + + <p class="i2">Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art,</p> + + <p>Than all the living forms could be,</p> + + <p class="i2">Save her, who plac'd thee next my + heart.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>She plac'd it, sad with needless fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Lest time might shake my wavering + soul,</p> + + <p>Unconscious that her image there,</p> + + <p class="i2">Held every sense in fast controul.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Through hours, through years, through time 'twill + cheer,</p> + + <p class="i2">My hope in gloomy moments raise;</p> + + <p>In life's last conflict 't'will appear,</p> + + <p class="i2">And meet my fond, expiring gaze.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page30" + id="page30"></a>[pg 30]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>ON THE DEATH OF Mr. FOX, THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU + APPEARED IN THE MORNING POST.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Our Nation's foes, lament on <i>Fox's</i> + death,</p> + + <p>"But bless the hour, when PITT resign'd his + breath;</p> + + <p>"These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth + unclue,</p> + + <p>"We give the palm, where Justice points its + due."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p><i>To which the Author of these Pieces, sent the subjoined + Reply, for Insertion in the</i> MORNING CHRONICLE.—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth,</p> + + <p>Would mangle still the dead, in spite of truth,</p> + + <p>What though our "nation's foes" lament the fate,</p> + + <p>With generous feeling, of the good and great;</p> + + <p>Shall therefore dastard tongues assail the name</p> + + <p>Of him whose virtues claim eternal fame?</p> + + <p>When PITT expired in plenitude of power,</p> + + <p>Though ill success obscur'd his dying hour,</p> + + <p>Pity her dewy wings before him spread,</p> + + <p>For noble spirits "war not with the dead;"</p> + + <p>His friends in tears, a last sad requiem gave,</p> + + <p>And all his errors slumber'd in the grave.</p> + + <p>He died an Atlas, bending 'neath the weight,</p> + + <p>Of cares oppressing our unhappy + state;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page31" + id="page31"></a>[pg 31]</span> + + <p>But lo! another Hercules appear'd,</p> + + <p>Who for a time, the ruined fabric rear'd;</p> + + <p>He too is dead! who still our England propp'd,</p> + + <p>With him our fast reviving hopes have dropp'd;</p> + + <p>Not one great people only raise his urn,</p> + + <p>All Europe's far extended regions mourn.</p> + + <p>"These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth + unclue,</p> + + <p>"And give the palm where Justice points it due;"</p> + + <p>But let not canker'd calumny assail,</p> + + <p>And round our statesman wind her gloomy veil.</p> + + <p>Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must + weep,</p> + + <p>Whose dear remains in honoured marble sleep;</p> + + <p>For whom at last, even hostile nations groan,</p> + + <p>And friends and foes alike his talents own;</p> + + <p>Fox! shall in Britain's future annals shine,</p> + + <p>Nor e'en to <i>Pitt</i>, the patriot's <i>palm</i> + resign;</p> + + <p>Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,</p> + + <p>For PITT, and PITT alone, would dare to ask.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO A LADY, WHO PRESENTED THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR, BRAIDED + WITH HIS OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN DECEMBER, TO MEET HIM IN + THE GARDEN.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>These locks which fondly thus entwine,</p> + + <p>In firmer chains our hearts + confine;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page32" + id="page32"></a>[pg 32]</span> + + <p>Than all th' unmeaning protestations,</p> + + <p>Which swell with nonsense, love orations.</p> + + <p>Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it,</p> + + <p>Nor time, nor place, nor art, have mov'd it;</p> + + <p>Then wherefore should we sigh, and whine,</p> + + <p>With groundless jealousy repine.</p> + + <p>With silly whims, and fancies frantic,</p> + + <p>Merely to make our love romantic.</p> + + <p>Why should you weep like <i>Lydia Languish</i>,</p> + + <p>And fret with self-created anguish.</p> + + <p>Or doom the lover you have chosen,</p> + + <p>On winter nights, to sigh half frozen:</p> + + <p>In leafless shades, to sue for pardon,</p> + + <p>Only because the scene's a garden.</p> + + <p>For gardens seem by one consent</p> + + <p>(Since SHAKESPEARE set the precedent;)</p> + + <p>(Since Juliet first declar'd her passion)</p> + + <p>To form the place of assignation.</p> + + <p>Oh! would some modern muse inspire,</p> + + <p>And seat her by a <i>sea-coal</i> fire,</p> + + <p>Or had the bard at Christmas written,</p> + + <p>And laid the scene of love in Britain;</p> + + <p>He surely in commiseration,</p> + + <p>Had chang'd the place of declaration.</p> + + <p>In Italy I've no + objection,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page33" + id="page33"></a>[pg 33]</span> + + <p>Warm nights are proper for reflection;</p> + + <p>But here, our climate is so rigid,</p> + + <p>That love itself, is rather frigid;</p> + + <p>Think on our chilly situation,</p> + + <p>And curb this rage for imitation.</p> + + <p>Then let us meet, as oft we've done,</p> + + <p>Beneath the influence of the sun;</p> + + <p>Or, if at midnight I must meet you,</p> + + <p>Oh! let me in your chamber greet you;</p> + + <p><i>There</i> we can love for hours together,</p> + + <p>Much better in such snowy weather,</p> + + <p>Than plac'd in all th' Arcadian groves,</p> + + <p>That ever witness'd rural loves;</p> + + <p><i>There</i> if my passion fail to please,</p> + + <p>Next night I'll be content to freeze;</p> + + <p>No more I'll give a loose to laughter,</p> + + <p>But curse my fate, forever after.</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sweet girl! though only once we met,</p> + + <p>That meeting I shall ne'er forget;</p> + + <p>And though we ne'er may meet again,</p> + + <p>Remembrance will thy form + retain;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page34" + id="page34"></a>[pg 34]</span> + + <p>I would not say, "I love" but still</p> + + <p>My senses struggle with my will;</p> + + <p>In vain to drive thee from my breast,</p> + + <p>My thoughts are more and more represt,</p> + + <p>In vain, I check the rising sighs,</p> + + <p>Another to the last replies;</p> + + <p>Perhaps this is not love, but yet</p> + + <p>Our meeting I can ne'er forget.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>What though we never silence broke,</p> + + <p>Our eyes a sweeter language spoke;</p> + + <p>The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,</p> + + <p>And tells a tale, it never feels;</p> + + <p>Deceit, the guilty lips impart,</p> + + <p>And hush the mandates of the heart,</p> + + <p>But soul's interpreters, the eyes</p> + + <p>Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.</p> + + <p>As thus our glances oft convers'd,</p> + + <p>And all our bosoms felt, rehears'd,</p> + + <p>No <i>spirit</i> from within reprov'd us,</p> + + <p>Say rather, "'twas the <i>spirit mov'd us</i>."</p> + + <p>Though what they utter'd, I repress,</p> + + <p>Yet, I conceive, thou'lt partly guess;</p> + + <p>For, as on thee, my memory ponders,</p> + + <p>Perchance, to me thine also wanders;</p> + + <p>This for myself, at least I'll + say,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page35" + id="page35"></a>[pg 35]</span> + + <p>Thy form appears through night, through day,</p> + + <p>Awake, with it my fancy teems,</p> + + <p>In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;</p> + + <p>The vision charms the hours away,</p> + + <p>And bids me curse Aurora's ray;</p> + + <p>For breaking slumbers of delight,</p> + + <p>Which make me wish for endless night.</p> + + <p>Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,</p> + + <p>Shall joy or woe my steps await;</p> + + <p>Tempted by love, by storms beset,</p> + + <p>Thine image, I can ne'er forget.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Alas! again no more we meet,</p> + + <p>No more our former looks repeat;</p> + + <p>Then let me breathe this parting prayer,</p> + + <p>The dictate of my bosom's care:</p> + + <p>"May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker,</p> + + <p>"That anguish never can o'ertake her;</p> + + <p>"That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her,</p> + + <p>"But bliss be aye, her heart's partaker:</p> + + <p>"No jealous passion shall invade,</p> + + <p>"No envy that pure breast pervade;"</p> + + <p>For he that revels in such charms,</p> + + <p>Can never seek another's arms;</p> + + <p>"Oh! may the happy mortal fated,</p> + + <p>"To be by dearest ties + related;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page36" + id="page36"></a>[pg 36]</span> + + <p>"For <i>her</i> each hour <i>new joy</i> + discover,</p> + + <p>"And lose the husband in the lover.</p> + + <p>"May that fair bosom never know</p> + + <p>"What 'tis to feel the restless woe;</p> + + <p>"Which stings the soul, with vain regret,</p> + + <p>"Of him, who never can forget."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO JULIA!</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Julia! since far from you I've rang'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Our souls with fond affection glow + not;</p> + + <p>You say 'tis I, <i>not you</i> have chang'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">I'd tell you why,—but yet I know + not.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your polish'd brow, no cares have crost,</p> + + <p class="i2">And Julia! we are not much older,</p> + + <p>Since trembling first my heart I lost,</p> + + <p class="i2">Or told my love with hope, grown + bolder.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Sixteen was then our utmost age,</p> + + <p class="i2">Two years have lingering pass'd away, + love!</p> + + <p>And now new thoughts our minds engage,</p> + + <p class="i2">At least, <i>I</i> feel disposed to + stray, love!</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page37" + id="page37"></a>[pg 37]</span> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis <i>I</i>, that am alone to blame,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>I</i>, that am guilty of love's + treason;</p> + + <p>Since your sweet breast, is still the same,</p> + + <p class="i2">Caprice must be my only reason.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>I do not, love, suspect your truth,</p> + + <p class="i2">With jealous doubt my bosom heaves + not,</p> + + <p>Warm was the passion of my youth,</p> + + <p class="i2">One trace of dark deceit it leaves + not.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No, no, my flame was not pretended,</p> + + <p class="i2">For oh! I lov'd you most sincerely,</p> + + <p>And though our dream at last is ended,</p> + + <p class="i2">My bosom still esteems you dearly.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No more we meet in yonder bowers,</p> + + <p class="i2">Perhaps my soul's too prone to + roving,</p> + + <p>But older, firmer <i>hearts</i> than ours,</p> + + <p class="i2">Have found monotony in loving.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Your cheeks soft bloom is unimpair'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your beauties still are daily + bright'ning,</p> + + <p>Your eye for conquest comes prepar'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">The forge of love's resistless + lightning.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page38" + id="page38"></a>[pg 38]</span> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Arm'd thus to make their bosoms bleed,</p> + + <p class="i2">Many will throng to sigh like me, + love,</p> + + <p>More constant they may prove indeed,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fonder alas! they ne'er can be, love!</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO WOMAN.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Surely experience might have told me,</p> + + <p>That all must love thee, who behold thee;</p> + + <p>Surely experience might have taught,</p> + + <p>A woman's promises are naught,</p> + + <p>But plac'd in all thy charms before me,</p> + + <p>All I forget, but to <i>adore</i> thee.</p> + + <p>Oh memory! thou choicest blessing,</p> + + <p>When join'd with hope, when still possessing;</p> + + <p>Thou whisperest, as our hearts are beating,</p> + + <p>"What oft we've done, we're still repeating."</p> + + <p>But how much curst by every lover,</p> + + <p>When hope is fled, and passion's over.</p> + + <p>Woman that fair and fond deceiver,</p> + + <p>How prompt are striplings to believe her,</p> + + <p>How throbs the pulse, when first we view,</p> + + <p>The eye that rolls in glossy blue;</p> + + <p>Or sparkles black, or mildly throws,</p> + + <p>A beam from under hazel brows;</p> + + <p>How quick we credit every + oath,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page39" + id="page39"></a>[pg 39]</span> + + <p>And hear her plight the willing troth;</p> + + <p>Fondly we hope 'twill last for aye,</p> + + <p>When lo! she changes in a day,</p> + + <p>The Record will forever stand,</p> + + <p>"That woman's vows, are writ in sand."</p> + </div> + </div> + <hr /> + + <h2>AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE DELIVERED BY THE AUTHOR, PREVIOUS TO + THE PERFORMANCE OF THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, AT A PRIVATE + THEATRE.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Since the refinement of this polish'd age,</p> + + <p>Has swept immoral raillery from the stage;</p> + + <p>Since taste has now expung'd licentious wit,</p> + + <p>Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ;</p> + + <p>Since now to please with purer scenes we seek,</p> + + <p>Nor dare to call the blush from beauty's cheek;</p> + + <p>Oh! let the modest muse some pity claim,</p> + + <p>And meet indulgence—though she find not + fame.</p> + + <p>But not for <i>her</i> alone, we wish respect,</p> + + <p><i>Others</i> appear more conscious of defect;</p> + + <p>To night, no <i>Veteran Roscii</i> you behold,</p> + + <p>In all the arts of scenic action old;</p> + + <p>No COOKE, no KEMBLE, can salute you here,</p> + + <p>No SIDDONS draw the sympathetic tear,</p> + + <p>To night, you thong to witness the debut,</p> + + <p>Of embryo actors to the drama + new;</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page40" + id="page40"></a>[pg 40]</span> + + <p>Here then, our almost unfledg'd wings we try,</p> + + <p>Clip not our <i>pinions</i>, ere the <i>birds can + fly</i>;</p> + + <p>Failing in this our first attempt to soar,</p> + + <p>Drooping, alas, we fall to rise no more.</p> + + <p>Not one poor trembler only, fear betrays,</p> + + <p>Who hopes, yet almost dreads to meet your + praise;</p> + + <p>But all our Dramatis Personæ wait,</p> + + <p>In fond suspense, this crisis of their fate;</p> + + <p>No venal views our progress can retard,</p> + + <p>Your generous plaudits are our sole reward;</p> + + <p>For them each <i>Hero</i> all his power + displays,</p> + + <p>Each timid <i>Heroine</i> shrinks before your + gaze:</p> + + <p>Surely these last will some protection find,</p> + + <p>None to the softer sex can prove unkind;</p> + + <p>Whilst youth and beauty form the female shield,</p> + + <p>The sternest critic to the fair must yield.</p> + + <p>But should our feeble efforts nought avail,</p> + + <p>Should, <i>after all</i>, our best endeavours + fail;</p> + + <p>Still let some mercy in your bosoms live,</p> + + <p>And if you can't applaud, at least + <i>forgive</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/52.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/52.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page41" + id="page41"></a>[pg 41]</span> + + <h2>TO MISS E.P.</h2> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Eliza! what fools are the Mussulman sect,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who to woman deny the soul's future + existence,</p> + + <p>Could they see thee, Eliza! they'd own their + defect,</p> + + <p class="i2">And this doctrine would meet with a + general resistance.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Had their Prophet possess'd but an atom of + sense,</p> + + <p class="i2">He ne'er would have <i>woman</i> from + Paradise driven,</p> + + <p>But instead of his <i>Houris</i> a flimsy + pretence,</p> + + <p class="i2">With <i>woman alone</i>, he had peopled + his Heaven.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But still to increase your calamities more,</p> + + <p class="i2">Not content with depriving your bodies of + spirit,</p> + + <p>He allots but <i>one husband</i> to share amongst + four,</p> + + <p class="i2">With <i>souls</i> you'd + dispense—but this last who could bear it.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>His religion to please neither <i>party</i> is + made,</p> + + <p class="i2">On <i>husbands</i> 'tis <i>hard</i>, to + the wives most uncivil;</p> + + <p>But I can't contradict what so oft has been + said,</p> + + <p class="i2">"Though women are angels, yet wedlock's + the devil."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This terrible truth, even Scripture has told,</p> + + <p class="i2">Ye Benedicks! hear me, and listen with + rapture;</p> + + <p>If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of St. MATT.—read the second and + twentieth chapter.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page42" + id="page42"></a>[pg 42]</span> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">With wives who eternal confusion are + spreading;</p> + + <p>"But in Heaven" (so runs the Evangelist's Text,)</p> + + <p class="i2">"We neither have giving in marriage, or + wedding."</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,)</p> + + <p class="i2">That should Saints after death, with + their spouses put up more,</p> + + <p>And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway,</p> + + <p class="i2">All Heaven would ring with the conjugal + uproar.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Distraction and discord would follow in course,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor MATTHEW, nor MARK, nor St. PAUL, can + deny it,</p> + + <p>The only expedient is general divorce,</p> + + <p class="i2">To prevent universal disturbance and + riot.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But though husband and wife, shall at length be + disjoin'd</p> + + <p class="i2">Yet woman and man ne'er were meant to + dissever,</p> + + <p>Our chains once dissolv'd, and our hearts + unconfin'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">We'll love without bonds, but we'll love + you forever.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>10.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Though souls are denied you by fools and by + rakes,</p> + + <p class="i2">Should you own it yourselves, I would + even then doubt you,</p> + + <p>Your nature so much of <i>celestial</i> + partakes,</p> + + <p class="i2">The Garden of Eden would wither without + you.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">SOUTHWELL, <i>October</i> 9, + 1806.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page43" + id="page43"></a>[pg 43]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>The TEAR.</h2> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">When Friendship or Love,</p> + + <p class="i2">Our sympathies move,</p> + + <p>When Truth in a glance should appear,</p> + + <p class="i2">The lips may beguile,</p> + + <p class="i2">With a dimple or smile,</p> + + <p>But the test of affection's a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Too oft is a smile,</p> + + <p class="i2">But the hypocrite's wile,</p> + + <p>To mask detestation, or fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Give me the soft sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">Whilst the soul telling eye</p> + + <p>Is dimm'd, for a time, with a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Mild charity's glow,</p> + + <p class="i2">To us mortals below,</p> + + <p>Shows the soul from barbarity clear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Compassion will melt,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where this virtue is felt,</p> + + <p>And its dew is diffused in a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">The man doom'd to sail,</p> + + <p class="i2">With the blast of the + gale,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page44" + id="page44"></a>[pg 44]</span> + + <p>Through billows Atlantic to steer,</p> + + <p class="i2">As he bends o'er the wave,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which may soon be his grave,</p> + + <p>The green sparkles bright with a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">The soldier braves death,</p> + + <p class="i2">For a fanciful wreath,</p> + + <p>In Glory's romantic career;</p> + + <p class="i2">But he raises the foe,</p> + + <p class="i2">When in battle laid low,</p> + + <p>And bathes every wound with a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">When with high bounding pride,</p> + + <p class="i2">He returns to his bride,</p> + + <p>Renouncing the gore crimson'd spear;</p> + + <p class="i2">All his toils are repaid,</p> + + <p class="i2">When embracing the maid,</p> + + <p>From her eyelid he kisses the tear.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Sweet scene of my youth,</p> + + <p class="i2">Seat of Friendship and Truth,</p> + + <p>Where Love chac'd each fast-fleeting year,</p> + + <p class="i2">Loth to leave thee I mourn'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">For a last look I turn'd,</p> + + <p>But thy spire was scarce seen through a + <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page45" + id="page45"></a>[pg 45]</span> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Though my vows I can pour,</p> + + <p class="i2">To my Mary no more,</p> + + <p>My Mary to love once so <i>dear</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">In the shade of her bower,</p> + + <p class="i2">I remember the hour,</p> + + <p>She rewarded those vows with a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">By another possest,</p> + + <p class="i2">May she live ever blest,</p> + + <p>Her name still my heart must revere,</p> + + <p class="i2">With a sigh I resign,</p> + + <p class="i2">What I once thought was mine,</p> + + <p>And forgive her deceit with a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>10.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Ye friends of my heart,</p> + + <p class="i2">Ere from you I depart,</p> + + <p>This hope to my breast is most near,</p> + + <p class="i2">If again we shall meet,</p> + + <p class="i2">In this rural retreat,</p> + + <p>May we <i>meet</i>, as we <i>part</i>, with a + <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>11.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">When my soul wings her flight,</p> + + <p class="i2">To the regions of + night,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page46" + id="page46"></a>[pg 46]</span> + + <p>And my body shall sleep on its bier;</p> + + <p class="i2">As ye pass by the tomb,</p> + + <p class="i2">Where my ashes consume,</p> + + <p>Oh! moisten their dust with a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>12.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">May no marble bestow,</p> + + <p class="i2">The splendour of woe,</p> + + <p>Which the children of Vanity rear,</p> + + <p class="i2">No fiction of fame,</p> + + <p class="i2">Shall blazon my name,</p> + + <p>All I ask, all I wish, is a <i>tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">BYRON, <i>October 26</i>, 1806.</p> + <hr /> + + <h2>REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J.M.B. PIGOT, Esq. ON THE CRUELTY + OF HIS MISTRESS.</h2> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Why PIGOT, complain,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of this damsel's disdain,</p> + + <p>Why thus in despair, do you fret?</p> + + <p class="i2">For months you may try,</p> + + <p class="i2">But believe me a <i>sigh</i>,</p> + + <p>Will never obtain a coquette.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Would you teach her to love,</p> + + <p class="i2">For a time seem to + rove,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page47" + id="page47"></a>[pg 47]</span> + + <p>At first she may <i>frown</i> in a <i>pet</i>;</p> + + <p class="i2">But leave her awhile,</p> + + <p class="i2">She shortly will smile,</p> + + <p>And then you may <i>kiss</i> your + <i>coquette</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">For such are the airs,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of these fanciful fairs,</p> + + <p>They think all our <i>homage</i> a <i>debt</i>;</p> + + <p class="i2">But a partial neglect,</p> + + <p class="i2">Soon takes an effect,</p> + + <p>And humbles the proudest <i>coquette</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Dissemble your pain,</p> + + <p class="i2">And lengthen your chain,</p> + + <p>Nor seem her <i>hauteur</i> to <i>regret</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">If again you shall sigh,</p> + + <p class="i2">She no more will deny,</p> + + <p>That <i>yours</i> is the rosy <i>coquette</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">But if from false pride,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your pangs she deride,</p> + + <p>This whimsical virgin forget;</p> + + <p class="i2">Some <i>other</i> admire,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who will <i>melt</i> with your + <i>fire</i>,</p> + + <p>And laugh at the <i>little</i> coquette.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page48" + id="page48"></a>[pg 48]</span> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">For <i>me</i>, I adore,</p> + + <p class="i2">Some <i>twenty</i> or more,</p> + + <p>And love them most dearly, but yet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though my heart they enthral,</p> + + <p class="i2">I'd abandon them all,</p> + + <p>Did they act like your blooming <i>coquette</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">No longer repine,</p> + + <p class="i2">But form this design,</p> + + <p>And break through her slight woven net;</p> + + <p class="i2">Away with despair,</p> + + <p class="i2">No longer forbear,</p> + + <p>To fly from the captious coquette.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Then quit her, my friend!</p> + + <p class="i2">Your bosom defend,</p> + + <p>Ere quite with her snares you're beset;</p> + + <p class="i2">Lest your deep wounded heart</p> + + <p class="i2">When incens'd by the smart,</p> + + <p>Should lead you to <i>curse</i> the coquette.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author">BYRON, <i>October</i> 27, + 1806.</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page49" + id="page49"></a>[pg 49]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>GRANTA, A MEDLEY.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! could LE SAGE's<a id="footnotetag8" + name="footnotetag8"></a><a href="#footnote8"><sup>8</sup></a> + demon's gift,</p> + + <p class="i2">Be realized at my desire,</p> + + <p>This night my trembling form he'd lift,</p> + + <p class="i2">And place it on St. Mary's spire.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then would unroof'd old Granta's Halls</p> + + <p class="i2">Pedantic inmates full display,</p> + + <p><i>Fellows</i> who dream on <i>lawn</i>, or + <i>stalls</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">The price of hireling votes to pay.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Then would I view each rival Wight,</p> + + <p class="i2">PETTY and PALMERSTON survey,</p> + + <p>Who canvass now with all their might,</p> + + <p class="i2">Against the next elective day.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>One on his power and place depends,</p> + + <p class="i2">The other on the Lord knows what,</p> + + <p>Each to some eloquence pretends,</p> + + <p class="i2">But neither will convince by + <i>that</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The first indeed may not demur,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fellows are sage reflecting + men,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page50" + id="page50"></a>[pg 50]</span> + + <p>And know preferment can occur,</p> + + <p class="i2">But very seldom, <i>now</i> and + <i>then</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>They know the Chancellor has got,</p> + + <p class="i2">Some pretty livings in disposal,</p> + + <p>Each hopes that <i>one</i> may be his + <i>lot</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And therefore smiles at his proposal.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Now from corruption's shameless scene,</p> + + <p class="i2">I'll turn mine eye, as night grows + later,</p> + + <p>And view unheeded, and unseen,</p> + + <p class="i2">The studious sons of Alma Mater.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>There in apartments small and damp,</p> + + <p class="i2">The candidate for college prizes,</p> + + <p>Sits poring by the midnight lamp,</p> + + <p class="i2">Goes late to bed and early rises.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He surely well deserves to gain them,</p> + + <p class="i2">And all the honours of His college,</p> + + <p>Who striving hardly to obtain them,</p> + + <p class="i2">Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>10.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who sacrifices hours of rest,</p> + + <p class="i2">To scan precisely metres + attic,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page51" + id="page51"></a>[pg 51]</span> + + <p>And agitates his anxious breast,</p> + + <p class="i2">In solving problems mathematic.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>11.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Who reads false quantities in + Sele,<a id="footnotetag9" + name="footnotetag9"></a><a href="#footnote9"><sup>9</sup></a></p> + + <p class="i2">Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle,</p> + + <p>And robs himself of many a meal,</p> + + <p class="i2">In <i>barbarous + latin</i><a id="footnotetag10" + name="footnotetag10"></a><a href="#footnote10"><sup>10</sup></a> + doom'd to wrangle.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>12.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Renouncing every pleasing page,</p> + + <p class="i2">From authors of historic use,</p> + + <p>Preferring to the lettered sage,</p> + + <p class="i2">The square of the + hypothenuse.<a id="footnotetag11" + name="footnotetag11"></a><a href="#footnote11"><sup>11</sup></a></p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>13.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But harmless are these occupations,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which hurt none but the hapless + student;</p> + + <p>Compared with other recreations,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which bring together the imprudent.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>14.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Whose daring revels shock the sight,</p> + + <p class="i2">When vice and infamy combine,</p> + + <p>When drunkenness and dice unite,</p> + + <p class="i2">And every sense is steep'd in wine.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page52" + id="page52"></a>[pg 52]</span> + + <h4>15.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Not so the methodistic crew,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who plans of reformation lay,</p> + + <p>In humble attitude they sue,</p> + + <p class="i2">And for the sins of others pray.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>16.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Forgetting that their pride of spirit,</p> + + <p class="i2">And exultation in their trial;</p> + + <p>Detracts most largely from the merit,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of all their boasted self-denial.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>17.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis morn,—from these I turn my sight,</p> + + <p class="i2">What scene is this which meets the + eye,</p> + + <p>As numerous crowd array'd in + white,<a id="footnotetag12" + name="footnotetag12"></a><a href="#footnote12"><sup>12</sup></a></p> + + <p class="i2">Across the green in numbers fly.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>18.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Loud rings in air, the chapel bell,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis hush'd,—what sounds are these + I hear,</p> + + <p>The organ's soft celestial swell,</p> + + <p class="i2">Rolls deeply on the listening ear.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>19.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>To this is join'd the sacred song,</p> + + <p class="i2">The royal minstrel's hallowed strain,</p> + + <p>But <i>he</i> who hears the <i>music</i> long,</p> + + <p class="i2">Will <i>never</i> wish to <i>hear + again</i>.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page53" + id="page53"></a>[pg 53]</span> + + <h4>20.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Our choir would scarcely be excus'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Even as a band of raw beginners,</p> + + <p>But mercy now must be refus'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">To such a set of croaking sinners.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>21.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>If David when his toils were ended,</p> + + <p class="i2">Had heard these blockheads sing before + him,</p> + + <p>To us his psalms had ne'er descended,</p> + + <p class="i2">In furious mood he would have tore + 'em.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>22.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The luckless Israelites when taken,</p> + + <p class="i2">By some inhuman tyrant's order,</p> + + <p>Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken,</p> + + <p class="i2">On Babylonian river's border.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>23.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But had they sung in notes like these,</p> + + <p class="i2">Inspir'd by stratagem, or fear,</p> + + <p>They might have set their hearts at ease,</p> + + <p class="i2">The devil a soul had stay'd to hear.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>24.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p><i>But if I write</i> much longer now,</p> + + <p class="i2">The deuce a soul <i>will stay to + read</i>,</p> + + <p>My pen is blunt, the ink is low,</p> + + <p class="i2">'Tis almost time to <i>stop, + indeed</i>.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page54" + id="page54"></a>[pg 54]</span> + + <h4>25.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Therefore farewell, old GRANTA's spires,</p> + + <p class="i2">No more like <i>Cleofas</i> I fly,</p> + + <p>No more thy theme my muse inspires,</p> + + <p class="i2">The reader's tired, and so am I.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"><i>October</i> 28, 1806.</p> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote8" + name="footnote8"></a><b>Footnote 8:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag8">(return)</a> + + <p>The Diable Boiteux of LE SAGE, where Asmodeus the Demon, + places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs + the houses for his inspection.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote9" + name="footnote9"></a><b>Footnote 9:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag9">(return)</a> + + <p>Sele's publication on Greek metres is not remarkable for + its accuracy.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote10" + name="footnote10"></a><b>Footnote 10:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag10">(return)</a> + + <p>Every Cambridge man will assent to this,—the Latin + of the Schools is almost unintelligible.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote11" + name="footnote11"></a><b>Footnote 11:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag11">(return)</a> + + <p>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.</p> + </blockquote> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote12" + name="footnote12"></a><b>Footnote 12:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag12">(return)</a> + + <p>On a Saint Day, the Students wear Surplices in + Chapel.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>TO THE SIGHING STREPHON.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Your pardon my friend,</p> + + <p class="i2">If my rhymes did offend,</p> + + <p>Your pardon a thousand times o'er,</p> + + <p class="i2">From friendship I strove,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your pangs to remove,</p> + + <p>But I swear I will do so no more.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Since your <i>beautiful</i> maid</p> + + <p class="i2">Your flame has repaid,</p> + + <p>No more I your folly regret;</p> + + <p class="i2">She's now most divine,</p> + + <p class="i2">And I bow at the shrine,</p> + + <p>Of this quickly reformed coquette.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">But still I must own,</p> + + <p class="i2">I should never have + known,</p><span class="pagenum"><a name="page55" + id="page55"></a>[pg 55]</span> + + <p>From <i>your verses</i> what else she deserv'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Your pain seem'd so great,</p> + + <p class="i2">I pitied your fate,</p> + + <p>As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">But since the chaste kiss,</p> + + <p class="i2">Of this magical Miss,</p> + + <p>Such wonderful transports produce,</p> + + <p class="i2">Since the "<i>world you forget</i>,"</p> + + <p class="i2">"<i>When your lips once have + met</i>,"</p> + + <p>My Counsel will get but abuse.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">You say "when I rove"</p> + + <p class="i2">"I know nothing of love,"</p> + + <p>'Tis true I am given to range,</p> + + <p class="i2">If I rightly remember,</p> + + <p class="i2">I've kiss'd a good number,</p> + + <p>But there's pleasure at least in a change.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">I ne'er will advance,</p> + + <p class="i2">By the rules of romance,</p> + + <p>To humour a whimsical fair,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though a smile may delight,</p> + + <p class="i2">Yet a <i>frown</i> wont + <i>affright</i>,</p> + + <p>Or drive me to dreadful despair.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page56" + id="page56"></a>[pg 56]</span> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Whilst my blood is thus warm,</p> + + <p class="i2">I ne'er shall reform,</p> + + <p>To mix in the Platonist's school;</p> + + <p class="i2">Of this I am sure,</p> + + <p class="i2">Was my passion so pure,</p> + + <p><i>My mistress</i> must think me <i>a fool</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Though the kisses are sweet,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which voluptuously meet,</p> + + <p>Of kissing I ne'er was so fond,</p> + + <p class="i2">As to make me forget,</p> + + <p class="i2">Though our lips oft have met,</p> + + <p>That still there was <i>something beyond</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">And if I should shun,</p> + + <p class="i2">Every <i>woman</i> for <i>one</i>,</p> + + <p>Whose <i>image</i> must fill my whole breast;</p> + + <p class="i2">Whom I must <i>prefer</i>,</p> + + <p class="i2">And <i>sigh</i> but for <i>her</i>,</p> + + <p>What an <i>insult</i> 'twould be to the + <i>rest</i>!</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>10.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p class="i2">Now, Strephon, good bye,</p> + + <p class="i2">I cannot deny,</p> + + <p><i>Your passion</i> appears most absurd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Such <i>love</i> as you plead,</p> + + <p class="i2">Is <i>pure</i> love indeed,</p> + + <p>For it <i>only</i> consists in the <i>word</i>.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page57" + id="page57"></a>[pg 57]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>THE CORNELIAN.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>No specious splendour of this stone,</p> + + <p class="i2">Endears it to my memory ever,</p> + + <p>With lustre <i>only once</i> it shone,</p> + + <p class="i2">But blushes modest as the giver.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Some who can sneer at friendship's ties,</p> + + <p class="i2">Have for my weakness oft reprov'd me,</p> + + <p>Yet still the simple gift I prize,</p> + + <p class="i2">For I am sure, the giver lov'd me.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He offered it with downcast look,</p> + + <p class="i2">As <i>fearful</i> that I might refuse + it,</p> + + <p>I told him when the gift I took,</p> + + <p class="i2">My <i>only fear</i> should be to lose + it.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>This pledge attentively I view'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">And <i>sparkling</i> as I held it + near,</p> + + <p>Methought one drop the stone bedew'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">And ever since <i>I've lov'd a + tear</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Still to adorn his humble youth,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nor wealth nor birth their treasures + yield,</p> + + <p>But he who seeks the flowers of truth,</p> + + <p class="i2">Must quit the garden for the field.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page58" + id="page58"></a>[pg 58]</span> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis not the plant uprear'd in sloth,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which beauty shews, and sheds + perfume,</p> + + <p>The flowers which yield the most of both,</p> + + <p class="i2">In nature's wild luxuriance bloom.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Had Fortune aided nature's care,</p> + + <p class="i2">For once forgetting to be blind,</p> + + <p><i>His</i> would have been an ample share,</p> + + <p class="i2">If well proportioned to his mind.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But had the Goddess clearly seen,</p> + + <p class="i2">His form had fixed her fickle breast,</p> + + <p><i>Her</i> countless hoards would <i>his</i> have + been,</p> + + <p class="i2">And none remain'd to give the rest.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/70.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/70.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page59" + id="page59"></a>[pg 59]</span> + + <h2>TO A. ——</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! did those eyes instead of fire,</p> + + <p class="i2">With bright, but mild affection + shine,</p> + + <p>Though they might kindle less desire,</p> + + <p class="i2">Love, more than mortal, would be + thine.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For thou art form'd so heavenly fair,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Howe'er</i> those orbs <i>may</i> + wildly beam,</p> + + <p>We <i>must</i> admire, but still despair,</p> + + <p class="i2">That fatal glance forbids esteem.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>When nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth,</p> + + <p class="i2">So much perfection in thee shone,</p> + + <p>She fear'd, that too divine for earth,</p> + + <p class="i2">The skies might claim thee for their + own.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Therefore to guard her dearest work,</p> + + <p class="i2">Lest angels might dispute the prize,</p> + + <p>She bade a secret lightning lurk,</p> + + <p class="i2">Within those once celestial eyes.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>These might the boldest Sylph appal,</p> + + <p class="i2">When gleaming with meridian blaze,</p> + + <p>Thy beauty must enrapture all,</p> + + <p class="i2">But who can dare thine ardent gaze?</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page60" + id="page60"></a>[pg 60]</span> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>'Tis said that Berenice's hair,</p> + + <p class="i2">In stars adorns the vault of heaven,</p> + + <p>But they would ne'er permit <i>thee</i> there,</p> + + <p class="i2"><i>Thou</i> would'st so far outshine the + seven.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>For did those eyes as planets roll,</p> + + <p class="i2">Thy sister lights would scarce + appear,</p> + + <p>E'en suns which systems now controul,</p> + + <p class="i2">Would twinkle dimly through their + sphere.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"><i>Friday, Nov. 7th</i>, 1806.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:12%;"> + <a href="images/72.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/72.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page61" + id="page61"></a>[pg 61]</span> + + <h2>AS THE AUTHOR WAS DISCHARGING HIS PISTOLS IN A GARDEN, TWO + LADIES PASSING NEAR THE SPOT, WERE ALARMED BY THE SOUND OF A + BULLET HISSING NEAR THEM. TO ONE OF WHOM THE FOLLOWING VERSES + ON THE OCCASION, WERE ADDRESSED THE NEXT MORNING.</h2> + + <h4>1.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Doubtless, sweet girl, the hissing lead,</p> + + <p class="i2">Wafting destruction near thy charms,</p> + + <p>And hurtling<a id="footnotetag13" + name="footnotetag13"></a><a href="#footnote13"><sup>13</sup></a> + o'er thy lovely head,</p> + + <p class="i2">Has fill'd that breast with fond + alarms.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>2.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Surely some envious Demon's force,</p> + + <p class="i2">Vex'd to behold such beauty here,</p> + + <p>Impell'd the bullet's viewless course,</p> + + <p class="i2">Diverted from its first career.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>3.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yes! in that nearly fatal hour,</p> + + <p class="i2">The ball obey'd some hell-born guide,</p> + + <p>But Heaven with interposing power,</p> + + <p class="i2">In pity turn'd the death aside.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>4.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Yet, as perchance one trembling tear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Upon that thrilling bosom fell,</p> + + <p>Which <i>I</i>, th' unconscious cause of fear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Extracted from its glistening + cell;—</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page62" + id="page62"></a>[pg 62]</span> + + <h4>5.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Say, what dire penance can atone?</p> + + <p class="i2">For such an outrage done to thee,</p> + + <p>Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,</p> + + <p class="i2">What punishment wilt thou decree?</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>6.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Might I perform the Judge's part,</p> + + <p class="i2">The sentence I should scarce deplore.</p> + + <p>It only would restore a heart,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which but belong'd to <i>thee</i> + before.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>7.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>The least atonement, I can make,</p> + + <p class="i2">Is to become no longer free,</p> + + <p>Henceforth, I breathe, but for thy sake.</p> + + <p class="i2">Thou shall be <i>all in all</i> to + me.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>8.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>But thou perhaps may'st now reject</p> + + <p class="i2">Such expiation of my guilt,</p> + + <p>Come then—some other mode elect?</p> + + <p class="i2">Let it be death—or what thou + wilt.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <h4>9.</h4> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Choose then relentless! and I swear,</p> + + <p class="i2">Nought shall thy dread decree + prevent,</p> + + <p>Yet hold—one little word forbear!</p> + + <p class="i2">Let it be aught but + <i>banishment</i>.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote13" + name="footnote13"></a><b>Footnote 13:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag13">(return)</a> + + <p>This word is used by GRAY in his poem to the fatal + Sisters:—</p> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>"Iron sleet of arrowy shower,</p> + + <p><i>Hurtles</i> through the darken'd air."</p> + </div> + </div> + </blockquote><span class="pagenum"><a name="page63" + id="page63"></a>[pg 63]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Equal to Jove, that youth must be,</p> + + <p><i>Greater</i> than Jove he seems to me;</p> + + <p>Who free from Jealousy's alarms,</p> + + <p>Securely views thy matchless charms;</p> + + <p>That cheek which ever dimpling glows,</p> + + <p>That mouth from whence such music flows;</p> + + <p>To him alike are always known,</p> + + <p>Reserv'd for him, and him alone.</p> + + <p>Ah Lesbia! though 'tis death to me,</p> + + <p>I cannot choose, but look on thee;</p> + + <p>But at the sight, my senses fly,</p> + + <p>I needs must gaze, but gazing die;</p> + + <p>Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,</p> + + <p>Parch'd to the throat, my tongue adheres.</p> + + <p>My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,</p> + + <p>My limbs deny their slight support.</p> + + <p>Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread,</p> + + <p>With deadly languor droops my head.</p> + + <p>My ears with tingling echoes ring,</p> + + <p>And life itself is on the wing;</p> + + <p>My eyes refuse the cheering light,</p> + + <p>Their orbs are veil'd in starless night:</p> + + <p>Such pangs my nature sinks beneath,</p> + + <p>And feels a temporary death.—</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page64" + id="page64"></a>[pg 64]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS, by + DOMITIUS MARSUS.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>He who sublime in epic numbers roll'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">And he who struck the softer lyre of + love,</p> + + <p>By Death's <a id="footnotetag14" + name="footnotetag14"></a><a href="#footnote14"><sup>14</sup></a><i> + unequal</i> hand alike controul'd,</p> + + <p class="i2">Fit comrades in Elysian regions move.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <blockquote class="footnote"> + <a id="footnote14" + name="footnote14"></a><b>Footnote 14:</b> + <a href="#footnotetag14">(return)</a> + + <p>The hand of Death is said to be unjust or unequal, as + Virgil was considerably older than Tibullus, at his + decease.</p> + </blockquote> + <hr /> + + <h2>IMITATION OF TIBULLUS "SULPICIA AD CERINTUM." LIB. + QUART.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Cruel Cerintus! does this fell disease,</p> + + <p>Which racks my breast, your fickle bosom please.</p> + + <p>Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain,</p> + + <p>That I might live for love, and you again,</p> + + <p>But now I scarcely shall bewail my fate,</p> + + <p>By Death alone, I can avoid your hate.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/76.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/76.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page65" + id="page65"></a>[pg 65]</span> + <hr /> + + <h2>TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. LUCTUS DE NORTE PASSERIS.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Ye Cupids droop each little head,</p> + + <p>Nor let your wings with joy be spread,</p> + + <p>My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead,</p> + + <p class="i2">Which dearer than her eyes she lov'd:</p> + + <p>For he was gentle and so true,</p> + + <p>Obedient to her call he flew,</p> + + <p>No fear, no wild alarm he knew,</p> + + <p class="i2">But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>And softly fluttering here, and there,</p> + + <p>He never sought to cleave the air,</p> + + <p>But chirrup'd oft, and free from care,</p> + + <p class="i2">Tun'd to her ear his grateful strain.</p> + + <p>But now he's pass'd the gloomy bourn,</p> + + <p>From whence he never can return,</p> + + <p>His death, and Lesbia's grief I mourn,</p> + + <p class="i2">Who sighs alas! but sighs in vain.</p> + </div> + + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh curst be thou! devouring grave!</p> + + <p>Whose jaws eternal victims crave,</p> + + <p>From whom no earthly power can save,</p> + + <p class="i2">For thou hast ta'en the bird away.</p> + + <p>From thee, my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow,</p> + + <p>Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow,</p> + + <p><i>Thou</i> art the cause of all her woe,</p> + + <p class="i2">Receptacle of life's decay.</p> + </div> + </div><span class="pagenum"><a name="page66" + id="page66"></a>[pg 66]</span> + + <h2>IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ANNA.</h2> + + <div class="poem"> + <div class="stanza"> + <p>Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,</p> + + <p>A million scarce would quench desire,</p> + + <p>Still would I steep my lips in bliss,</p> + + <p>And dwell an age on every kiss;</p> + + <p>Nor then my soul should sated be,</p> + + <p>Still would I kiss, and cling to thee,</p> + + <p>Nought should my kiss from thine dissever.</p> + + <p>Still would we kiss, and kiss forever;</p> + + <p>E'en though the number did exceed,</p> + + <p>The yellow harvest's countless seed,</p> + + <p>To part would be a vain endeavour,</p> + + <p>Could I desist?—ah! never—never.</p> + </div> + </div> + + <p class="author"><i>November</i> 16, 1806.</p> + + <div class="figcenter" + style="width:40%;"> + <a href="images/78.png"><img width="100%" + src="images/78.png" + alt="" /></a> + </div> + + <center> + Printed by S. and J. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Fugitive Pieces + +Author: George Gordon Noel Byron + +Release Date: March 15, 2005 [EBook #15368] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FUGITIVE PIECES *** + + + + +Produced by David Starner, William Flis, and the PG Online Distributed +Proofreading Team. + + + + + +FUGITIVE PIECES + +BY + +GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON + + +REPRODUCED FROM THE FIRST EDITION + + +WITH A BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + +BY + +MARCEL KESSEL + + + +PUBLISHED FOR + +THE FACSIMILE TEXT SOCIETY + +BY + +COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS + +NEW YORK: MCMXXXIII + + + + +BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE + + +_Fugitive Pieces_, Byron's first volume of verse, was privately +printed in the autumn of 1806, when Byron was eighteen years of age. +Passages in Byron's correspondence indicate that as early as August +of that year some of the poems were in the printers' hands and that +during the latter part of August and during September the printing +was suspended in order that Byron might give his poems an "entire +new form." The new form consisted, in part, in an enlargement; for he +wrote to Elizabeth Pigot about September that he had nearly doubled +his poems "partly by the discovery of some I conceived to be lost, and +partly by some new productions." According to Moore, _Fugitive Pieces_ +was ready for distribution in November. The last poem in the volume +bears the date of November 16, 1806. + +A difficulty in supposing the date of completion of the volume to be +about November 16 is that two copies contain inscriptions in Byron's +hand with earlier dates. On the copy of the late Mr. J.A. Spoor, +of Chicago, the inscription reads: "October 21st Tuesday 1806--Haec +poemata ex dono sunt--Georgii Gordon Byron, Vale." That on the +copy in the Morgan library reads: "Nov. 8, 1806, H.P.E.D.S.G.G.B., +Southwell.--Vale!--Byron," the initials evidently standing for the +Latin words of the preceding inscription. The Latin "Vale" in each +inscription, however, suggests that it commemorates a leave-taking, +the date referring not to the presentation but to the farewell. + +It has been suggested that copies of the volume were distributed +earlier than November and that some of the poems, printed separately +and distributed in fly-leaf form, were added later. This would explain +such discrepancies as the early dates of the inscriptions, and the +presence of Byron's name on pages 46 and 48 in a volume otherwise +anonymous, but there is little evidence to support it. + +Moore's account of _Fugitive Pieces_ is that it was distributed in +November, Byron presenting the first copy to the Reverend J.T. Becher, +prebendary of Southwell minster, who objected to what he considered +the too voluptuous coloring of the poem "To Mary." The objection led +Byron to suppress the edition immediately, he himself burning nearly +every copy. This account is corroborated in part by Miss Pigot and in +part by Byron. + +Immediately after the destruction, Byron began the preparation of a +second volume, to replace _Fugitive Pieces_. This appeared in January, +1807, as _Poems on Various Occasions_, Byron describing it as "vastly +correct and miraculously chaste." Of the 38 poems that constitute +_Fugitive Pieces_, all except "To Mary," "To Caroline," and the last +six stanzas of "To Miss E.P." were reprinted in _Poems on Various +Occasions_. Nineteen of the original 38 poems occur in Byron's third +work, _Hours of Idleness_, published in June or July, 1807. All three +editions were printed by S. and J. Ridge, booksellers of Newark, +England. + +Byron himself never reprinted the poems "To Mary" or "To Caroline," or +the last six stanzas of "To Miss E.P." Except in a limited facsimile +of _Fugitive Pieces_, supervised by H. Buxton Forman in 1886, "To +Mary" has never been reprinted--not even in supposedly complete +editions of Byron's works. + +Only four copies of _Fugitive Pieces_ are known to-day, and one of +these is incomplete. The copy from which the present facsimile is made +was originally given by Byron to Becher and preserved by him in spite +of his objections to the poem "To Mary." From Becher's family it +passed into the possession of Mr. Faulkner, of Louth, solicitor for +the Becher family. In 1885 it was in the possession of H.W. Ball, +antiquary and bookseller of Barton-on-Humber, who sold it to H. Buxton +Forman. Forman used it for his facsimile, but incorporated certain +manuscript corrections of the original, so that his facsimile is not +exact. The original is now owned by Mr. Thomas J. Wise, who has kindly +permitted its use for the present facsimile. + +Of the other three copies, the incomplete one, lacking pages 17-20 +("To Mary") and all after page 58, is in the possession of the family +of the late Mr. H.C. Roe, of Nottingham. This was originally sent by +Byron to Pigot, then studying medicine in Edinburgh. Byron later asked +Pigot to destroy the copy and Pigot seems to have complied so far +as to tear out the offending verses "To Mary." For many years it was +thought that only the Pigot and Becher copies had escaped destruction +at Byron's hands. But another complete copy came to light in 1907 +and is now in the Pierpont Morgan Library in New York. This contains +numerous manuscript corrections and alterations, and seems to have +been used as a proof copy for _Poems on Various Occasions_ (not, as +has sometimes been stated, for _Hours of Idleness_). A fourth copy, +also complete, was offered at public sale in 1912, and is now in the +hands of the executors of the late Mr. J.A. Spoor, of Chicago. + +The present facsimile is an exact photographic reproduction of the +text with all typographical and other errors as in the original, +except that certain manuscript corrections which appear in the +original perforce appear in the photographic reproduction, as follows: + + Page 3, _To E_.... line 2. "me" has been inserted by hand. + + Page 8, stanza 5, line 2. A letter ("s"?) has been erased + between "so" and "oft," and + the second "e" of "meets" has + been inserted to replace "l." + + Page 14, line 10. "j" in "jargon" has been + inserted by hand. + + Page 19, stanza (11), line 1. "night" was originally printed + "might," the "m" later changed + to "n" by erasure. + + Page 24, stanza 4, line 4. "s" in "setting" has been + inserted by hand. + + Page 25, _Thoughts Suggested by_ "e" in "tremble" has been + _a College Examination_, inserted, correcting "trimble." + line 4. + + Page 31, line 4. "f" in "fast" was originally + "l," but was changed by hand. + +The text has been collated with that in the Morgan library, and +except for later corrections made in ink in the Morgan copy, the only +differences noted are as follows: + + 1.) On p. 5, in the first line of the footnote, the Morgan + copy reads "piece" where the Wise copy reads "p*ece," the + "[dotless i]" lacking. + + 2.) The two pages of signature M are incorrectly numbered in + the Wise copy as "41, 41," this copy having no page numbered + 42; and are incorrectly numbered in the Morgan copy as "40, + 42," the latter copy having no page numbered 41. The text of + these pages is identical. + +M.K. + + + + +_FUGITIVE PIECES._ + + + + +TO + +THOSE FRIENDS, + +AT + +WHOSE REQUEST THEY WERE PRINTED, + +FOR WHOSE + +AMUSEMENT OR APPROBATION + +THEY ARE + +SOLELY INTENDED; + +These TRIFLES are respectfully dedicated, + +BY THE + +_AUTHOR_. + + +As these POEMS are never intended to meet the public eye, no apology +is necessary for the form in which they now appear. They are printed +merely for the perusal of a few friends to whom they are dedicated; +who will look upon them with indulgence; and as most of them were, +composed between the age of 15 and 17, their defects will be pardoned +or forgotten, in the youth and inexperience of the WRITER. + + * * * * * + + + + +_FUGITIVE PIECES._ + + * * * * * + +ON LEAVING N--ST--D. + + + Through the cracks in these battlements loud the winds whistle, + For the hall of my fathers is gone to decay; + And in yon once gay garden the hemlock and thistle + Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd in the way. + + Of the barons of old, who once proudly to battle + Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain; + The escutcheon and shield, which with ev'ry blast rattle, + Are the only sad vestiges now that remain. + + No more does old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers, + Raise a flame in the breast, for the war laurell'd wreath, + Near Askalon's Towers John of Horiston[1] slumbers, + Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel by death. + + Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy, + For the safety of Edward and ENGLAND they fell, + My fathers! the tears of your country redress ye, + How you fought! how you died! still her annals can tell. + + On [2]Marston with Rupert[3] 'gainst traitors contending, + Four Brothers enrich'd with their blood the bleak field + For Charles the Martyr their country defending, + Till death their attachment to royalty scal'd. + + Shades of heroes farewell! your descendant departing, + From the seat of his ancestors, bids ye adieu! + Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting + New courage, he'll think upon glory, and you. + + Though a tear dims his eye at this sad separation, + 'Tis nature, not fear, which commands his regret; + Far distant he goes with the same emulation, + In the grave, he alone can his fathers forget. + + Your fame, and your memory, still will he cherish, + He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown; + Like you will he live, or like you will he perish, + When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own. + +1803. + +[Footnote 1: Horiston Castle, in _Derbyshire_, an ancient seat of the +B--r--n family.] + +[Footnote 2: The battle of _Marston Moor_, where the adherents of +CHARLES I. were defeated.] + +[Footnote 3: Son of the Elector Palatine, and related to CHARLES I. He +afterwards commanded the Fleet, in the Reign of CHARLES II.] + + * * * * * + +TO E----. + + Let Folly smile, to view the names + Of thee and me in friendship twin'd, + Yet virtue will have greater claims + To love, than rank with vice combin'd. + + And though unequal is _thy_ fate, + Since title deck'd my higher birth; + Yet envy not this gaudy state, + _Thine_ is the pride of modest worth. + + Our _souls_ at least congenial meet, + Nor can _thy_ lot _my_ rank disgrace; + Our intercourse is not less sweet, + Since worth of rank supplies the place. + +_November_, 1802. + + * * * * * + +ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR AND VERY DEAR TO +HIM. + + * * * * * + + Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom, + Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove, + Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb, + And scatter flowers on the dust I love. + +2. + + Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, + That clay where once such animation beam'd; + The king of terrors seiz'd her as his prey, + Not worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd. + +3. + + Oh! could that king of terrors pity feel, + Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of fate, + Not here the mourner would his grief reveal, + Not here the muse her virtues would relate. + +4. + + But wherefore weep! her matchless spirit soars, + Beyond where aplendid shines the orb of day. + And weeping angels lead her to those bowers, + Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds repay. + +5. + + And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign! + And madly God-like Providence accuse! + Ah! no far fly from me attempts so vain, + I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse. + +6. + + Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear, + Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face; + Still they call forth my warm affection's tear. + Such sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace.[4] + +1802. + +[Footnote 4: The Author claims the indulgence of the reader, more for +this piece, than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it was +written at an earlier period than the rest, (being composed at the +age of 14) and his first Essay, be preferred submitting it to the +indulgence of his friends in its present state, to making either +addition or alteration.] + + * * * * * + +TO D. ---- + + In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp, + A friend whom death alone could sever, + But envy with malignant grasp, + Has torn thee from my breast for ever. + +2. + + True, she has forc'd thee from my _breast_, + But in my _heart_ thou keep'st thy seat; + There, there, thine image still must rest, + Until that heart shall cease to beat. + +3. + + And when the grave restores her dead, + When life again to dust is given, + On _thy dear_ breast I'll lay my head, + Without _thee_! _where_ would be _my Heaven?_ + +_February_, 1803. + + * * * * * + +TO ---- + + Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes, + Suffus'd in tears implore to stay; + And heard _unmov'd_, thy plenteous sighs, + Which said far more than words could say. + + Though deep the grief, _thy_ tears exprest, + 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 where join'd to mine; + The tears that from _my_ eye-lids flow'd, + Were lost in those which fell from _thine_. + + Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek, + _Thy_ gushing tears had quench'd its flame, + And as thy tongue essay'd to speak, + In _sighs alone_ it breath'd my name. + + And yet, my girl, we weep in vain, + In vain our fate in sighs deplore; + Remembrance only can remain, + But _that_, will make us weep the more. + + Again, thou best belov'd, adieu! + Ah! if thou canst o'ercome regret, + Nor let thy mind past joys review, + Our only _hope_ is to _forget_. + +1805. + + * * * * * + +TO CAROLINE. + + You say you love, and yet your eye + No symptom of that love conveys, + You say you love, yet know not why, + Your cheek no sign of love betrays. + +2. + + Ah! did that breast with ardour glow, + With me alone it joy could know, + Or feel with me the listless woe, + Which racks my heart when far from thee. + +3. + + Whene'er we meet my blushes rise, + And mantle through my purpled cheek, + But yet no blush to mine replies, + Nor e'en your eyes your love bespeak. + +4. + + Your voice alone declares your flame, + And though so sweet it breaths my name; + Our passions still are not the same, + Alas! you cannot love like me. + +5. + + For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow, + And though so oft it meets my kiss, + It burns with no responsive glow, + Nor melts like mine in dewy bliss. + +6. + + Ah! what are words to love like mine, + Though uttered by a voice like thine, + I still in murmurs must repine, + And think that love can ne'er be true. + +7. + + Which meets me with no joyous sign, + Without a sigh which bids adieu; + How different is my love from thine, + How keen my grief when leaving you. + +8. + + Your image fills my anxious breast, + Till day declines adown the West, + And when, at night, I sink to rest, + In dreams your fancied form I view. + +9. + + 'Tis then your breast, no longer cold, + With equal ardour seems to burn, + While close your arms around me fold, + Your lips my kiss with warmth return. + +10. + + Ah! would these joyous moments last; + Vain HOPE! the gay delusions past, + That voice!--ah! no, 'tis but the blast, + Which echoes through the neighbouring grove. + +11. + + But when _awake_, your lips I seek, + And clasp enraptur'd all your charms, + So chill's the pressure of your cheek, + I fold a statue in my arms. + +12. + + If thus, when to my heart embrac'd, + No pleasure in your eyes is trac'd, + You may be prudent, fair, and chaste, + But ah! my girl, you _do not love_. + + * * * * * + + +TO MARIA ---- + + + Since now the hour is come at last, + When you must quit your anxious lover, + Since now, our dream of bliss is past, + One pang, my girl, and all is over. + + Alas! that pang will be severe, + Which bids us part, to meet no more; + Which tears me far from _one_ so dear, + _Departing_ for a distant shore. + + Well! we have pass'd some happy hours, + And joy will mingle with our tears; + When thinking on these ancient towers, + The shelter of our infant years. + + Where from this gothic casement's height, + We view'd the lake, the park, the dell, + And still though tears obstruct our sight, + We lingering look a last farewell.-- + + O'er fields, through which we us'd to run, + And spend the hours in childish play, + O'er shades where, when our race was done, + Reposing on my breast you lay, + + Whilst I, admiring, too remiss, + Forgot to scare the hovering flies, + Yet envied every fly the kiss, + It dar'd to give your slumbering eyes. + + See still the little painted _bark_, + In which I row'd you o'er the lake; + See there, high waving o'er the park, + The _elm_, I clamber'd for your sake. + + These times are past, our joys are gone, + You leave me, leave this happy vale; + These scenes, I must retrace alone, + Without thee, what will they avail. + + Who can conceive, who has not prov'd, + The anguish of a last embrace? + When torn from all you fondly lov'd, + You bid a long adieu to peace. + + _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! + +1805. + + * * * * * + +FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES, FROM THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF +AESCHYLUS. + + + Great Jove! to whose Almighty Throne, + Both Gods and mortals homage pay, + Ne'er may my soul thy power disown, + Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. + Oft shall the sacred victim fall, + In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; + My voice shall raise no impious strain, + 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main. + + * * * * * + + How different now thy joyless fate, + Since first Hesione thy bride, + When plac'd aloft in godlike state, + The blushing beauty by thy side. + Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smil'd, + And mirthful strains the hours beguil'd; + The nymphs and Tritons danc'd around, + Nor yet thy doom was fix'd nor Jove relentless frown'd. + +HARROW, _December_ 1, 1804. + + * * * * * + + +LINES IN "LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN," BY J.J. +ROUSSEAU, FOUNDED ON FACTS. + + + Away, away,--your flattering arts, + May now betray some simpler hearts; + And _you_ will _smile_ at their believing, + And _they_ shall _weep_ at your deceiving. + +_ANSWER TO THE ABOVE, ADDRESS'D TO MISS ----_. + + Dear simple girl those flattering arts, + (From which you'd guard frail female hearts,) + Exist but in imagination, + Mere phantoms of your own creation; + For he who sees that witching grace, + That perfect form, that lovely face; + With eyes admiring, oh! believe me, + He never wishes to deceive thee; + Once let you at your mirror glance, + You'll there descry that elegance, + Which from our sex demands such praises, + But envy in the other raises.-- + Then he who tells you of your beauty, + Believe me only does his duty; + Ah! fly not from the candid youth, + It is not flattery, but truth. + +_July_, 1804. + + * * * * * + + +ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS, AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. + + + Where are those honours? IDA, once your own, + When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne; + As ancient Rome fast falling to disgrace, + Hail'd a Barbarian in her Caesar's place; + So you degenerate share as hard a fate, + And seat _Pomposus_, where your _Probus_ sate. + Of narrow brain, but of a narrower soul, + Pomposus, holds you in his harsh controul; + Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd, + With florid jargon, and with vain parade; + With noisy nonsense, and new fangled rules, + (Such as were ne'er before beheld in schools,) + Mistaking _pedantry_, for _learning's_ laws, + He governs, sanctioned but by self applause. + With him, the same dire fate attending Rome, + Ill-fated IDA! soon must stamp your doom; + Like her o'erthrown, forever lost to fame, + No trace of science left you, but the name. + +HARROW, _July_, 1805. + + * * * * * + + +EPITAPH ON A BELOVED FRIEND. + + + Oh Boy! forever lov'd, for ever dear, + What fruitless tears have wash'd thy honour'd bier; + What sighs re-echoed to thy parting breath, + Whilst thou wert struggling in the pangs of death. + Could tears have turn'd the tyrant in his course, + Could sighs have check'd his dart's relentless force; + Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, + Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey. + Thou still had'st liv'd, to bless my aching sight, + Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight: + Though low thy lot, since in a cottage born, + No titles did thy humble name adorn, + To me, far dearer, was thy artless love, + Than all the joys, wealth, fame, and friends could prove. + For thee alone I liv'd, or wish'd to live, + (Oh God! if impious, this rash word forgive) + Heart broken now, I wait an equal doom, + Content to join thee in thy turf-clad tomb; + Where this frail form compos'd in endless rest, + I'll make my last, cold, pillow on thy breast; + That breast where oft in life, I've laid my head, + Will yet receive me mouldering with the dead; + This life resign'd without one parting sigh, + Together in one bed of earth we'll lie! + Together share the fate to mortals given, + Together mix our dust, and hope for Heaven. + +HARROW, 1803. + + * * * * * + + +ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL, WHEN DYING. + + + Animula! vagula, Blandula, + Hospes, comesque, corporis, + Quoe nunc abibis in Loca? + Pallidula, rigida, nudula, + Nec ut soles dabis Jocos. + +_TRANSLATION_. + + Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite! + Friend and associate of this clay, + To what unknown region borne, + Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? + No more with wonted humour gay, + But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn. + +1806. + + * * * * * + + +TO MARY. + + + Rack'd by the flames of jealous rage, + By all her torments deeply curst, + Of hell-born passions far the worst, + What hope my pangs can now assuage? + +2. + + I tore me from thy circling arms, + To madness fir'd by doubts and fears, + Heedless of thy suspicious tears, + Nor feeling for thy feign'd alarms. + +3. + + Resigning every thought of bliss, + Forever, from your love I go, + Reckless of all the tears that flow, + Disdaining thy polluted kiss. + +4. + + No more that bosom heaves for me, + On it another seeks repose, + Another riot's on its snows, + Our bonds are broken, both are free. + +5. + + No more with mutual love we burn, + No more the genial couch we bless, + Dissolving in the fond caress; + Our love o'erthrown will ne'er return. + +6. + + Though love than ours could ne'er be truer, + Yet flames too fierce themselves destroy, + Embraces oft repeated cloy, + _Ours_ came too _frequent_, to endure. + +7. + + You quickly sought a second lover, + And I too proud to share a heart, + Where once I held the _whole_, not _part_, + Another mistress must discover. + +8. + + Though not the _first_ one, who hast blest me, + Yet I will own, you was the dearest, + The one, unto my bosom nearest; + So I conceiv'd, when I possest thee. + +9. + + Even now I cannot well forget thee, + And though no more in folds of pleasure, + Kiss follows kiss in countless measure, + I hope _you_ sometimes will regret me. + +10. + + And smile to think how oft were done, + What prudes declare a sin to act is, + And never but in darkness practice, + Fearing to trust the tell-tale sun. + +11. + + And wisely therefore night prefer, + Whose dusky mantle veils their fears, + Of _this_, and _that_, of eyes and ears, + Affording shades to those that err. + +12. + + Now, by my foul, 'tis most delight + To view each other panting, dying. + In love's _extatic posture_ lying, + Grateful to _feeling_, as to _sight_. + +13. + + And had the glaring God of Day, + (As formerly of Mars and Venus) + Divulg'd the joys which pass'd between us, + Regardless of his _peeping_ ray. + +14. + + Of love admiring such a _sample_, + The Gods and Goddesses descending, + Had never fancied us offending, + But _wisely_ followed _our example_. + + * * * * * + + When to their airy hall, my father's voice, + Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice, + When pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride, + Or dark in mist, descend the mountain's side; + Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns, + To mark the spot, where earth to earth returns. + No lengthen'd scroll of virtue, and renown, + My _epitaph_, shall be my name alone; + If _that_ with honour fails to crown my clay, + Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay; + _That_, only _that_, shall single out the shot, + By _that_ remember'd, or fore'er forgot.-- + +1803. + + * * * * * + + +TO ---- + + +1. + + Oh! when shall the grave hide forever my sorrow? + Oh! when shall my soul wing her flight from this clay? + The present is hell! and the coming to-morrow, + But brings with new torture, the curse of to-day. + +2. + + From my eye flows no tear, from my lips fall no curses, + I blast not the fiends, who have hurl'd me from bliss, + For poor is the soul which bewailing rehearses, + Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this-- + +3. + + Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning. + Would my lips breathe a flame, which no stream could assuage, + On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its lightning, + With transport my tongue give a loose to its rage. + +4. + + But now tears and curses alike unavailing, + Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight; + Could they view us, our sad separation bewailing, + Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight. + +5. + + 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. + +6. + + Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place me, + Since in life, love and friendship, for ever are fled, + If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee, + Perhaps they will leave unmolested--the dead. + +1805. + + * * * * * + + + +1. + + When I hear you express an affection so warm, + Ne'er think, my belov'd, that I do not believe, + For your lip, would the soul of suspicion disarm, + And your eye beams a ray, which can never deceive. + +2. + + Yet still, this fond bosom regrets whilst 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. + +3. + + That the time must arrive, when no longer retaining + Their auburn, these locks must wave thin to the breeze. + When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining, + Prove nature a prey to decay, and disease. + +4. + + 'Tis this, my belov'd, which spreads gloom o'er my features + Tho' 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 me of thee. + +5. + + No jargon of priests o'er our union was mutter'd, + To rivet the fetters of husband and wife; + By our lips, by our hearts, were our vows alone utter'd, + To perform them, in full, would ask more than a life. + +6. + + But as death my belov'd, 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. + +7. + + Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure, + Which from passion like ours will unceasingly flow; + Let us pass round the cup of love's bliss in full measure, + And quaff the contents as our nectar below. + +1805. + + * * * * * + + +ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW ON THE HILL. +1806. + + + Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection, + Embitters the present, compar'd with the past; + Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection, + And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last. + +2. + + Where fancy yet joys, to retrace the resemblance, + Of comrades in friendship, and mischief allied; + How welcome once more your ne'er fading remembrance, + Which rests in the bosom, though hope is deny'd. + +3. + + Again I revisit the hills where we sported, + The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought; + The school where loud warn'd by the bell we resorted, + To pore o'er the precepts by Pedagogues taught. + +4. + + Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd, + As reclining at eve on yon tombstone I lay; + Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd, + To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. + +5. + + I once more view the room with spectators surrounded, + Where as Zanga I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; + While to swell my young pride such applauses resounded, + I fancied that MOSSOP[5] himself was outshone. + +6. + + Or as Lear I pour'd for the deep imprecation, + By my daughters of kingdom and reason depriv'd: + Till fir'd by loud plaudits, and self adulation, + I consider'd myself as a _Garrick_ reviv'd. + +7. + + Ye dreams of my boyhood how much I regret you, + As your memory beams through this agoniz'd breast, + Thus sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you, + Though this heart throbs to bursting by anguish possest. + +8. + + I thought this poor brain fever'd even to madness, + Of tears as of reason forever was drain'd, + But the drops which now flow down _this_ bosom of sadness, + Convince me, the springs have some moisture retain'd. + +9. + + Sweet scenes of my childhood! your blest recollection, + Has wrung from these eye-lids to weeping long dead, + In torrents, the tears of my warmest affection, + The last and the fondest, I ever shall shed. + +[Footnote 5: MOSSOP, a cotempory of GARRICK, famous for his +performance of _Zanga_, in YOUNG's tragedy of the _Revenge_.] + + * * * * * + + +THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION. + + + High in the midst surrounded by his peers, + M--ns--l his ample front sublime uprears; + Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God, + While Sophs and Freshmen, tremble at his nod. + Whilst all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom, + _His_ voice in thunder shakes the sounding dome; + Denouncing dire reproach, to luckless fools, + Unskill'd to plod in mathematic rules. + + Happy the youth! in Euclid's axioms tried, + Though little vers'd in any art beside; + Who with scarce sense to pen an _English_ letter, + Yet with precision, scans an _attic metre_. + + What! though he knows not how his fathers bled, + When civil discord pil'd the fields with dead, + When Edward bade his conquering bands advance, + Or Henry trampled on the crest of France; + Though marvelling at the name of _Magna Charta_, + Yet, well he recollects the _laws of Sparta_. + Can tell what edicts sage _Lycurgus_ made, + Whilst _Blackstone's_ on the _shelf neglected_ laid; + Of _Grecian dramas_ vaunts the deathless fame, + Of _Avon's bard_, remembering scarce the name. + + Such is the youth, whose scientific pate, + Class honours, medals, fellowships await; + Or even perhaps the _declamation_ prize, + If to such glorious height, he lifts his eyes. + But lo! no _common_ orator can hope + The envied silver cup within his scope; + Not that our _heads_ much eloquence require, + The ATHENIAN's glowing style, or TULLY's fire. + The _manner_ of the speech is nothing, since + We do not try by _speaking_ to _convince_; + Be other _orators_ of pleasing _proud_, + We speak to _please_ ourselves, not _move_ the crowd. + Our gravity prefers the _muttering_ tone, + A proper mixture of the _squeak and groan_; + No borrow'd _grace_ of _action_, must be seen, + The slightest motion would displease the _dean_. + Whilst every staring graduate would prate, + Against what, _he_ could never imitate. + + The man, who hopes t' obtain the promis'd cup, + Must in one _posture_ stand, and _ne'er look up_, + Nor _stop_, but rattle over _every_ word, + No matter _what_, so it can _not_ be heard; + Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest, + Who speaks the _fastest_, 's sure to speak the _best_; + Who utters most within the shortest space, + May safely hope to win the _wordy race_. + + The sons of _Science these_, who thus repaid, + Linger in ease, in Granta's sluggish shade; + Where on Cam's sedgy banks supine they lie, + Unknown, unhonour'd live, unwept for, die. + Dull as the pictures, which adorn their halls, + They think all learning fix'd within their walls: + In manners rude, in foolish forms precise, + All modern arts, affecting to despise. + Yet prizing _Bentley's[6] Brunck's[6]_ or _Porson's_[7] note, + More than the _verse, on which the critic wrote_; + With eager haste, they court the tool of power, + (Whether 'tis PITT or PETTY rules the hour:) + To _him_, with suppliant smiles they bend the head, + Whilst mitres, prebends, to their eyes are spread. + But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace, + They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place; + _Such_ are the men who learning's treasures guard, + _Such_ is their _practice_, such is their _reward_; + This _much_ at least we may presume to say, + Th' _reward's_ scarce equal, to the _price_ they _pay_. + +1806. + +[Footnote 6: Celebrated Critics.] + +[Footnote 7: The present Greek Professor at Cambridge.] + + * * * * * + + +TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. + + +1. + + This faint resemblance of thy charms, + (Though strong as mortal art could give) + My constant heart of fear disarms, + Revives my hopes, and bids me live. + +2. + + Here I can trace the locks of gold, + Which round thy snowy forehead wave, + The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould, + The lips which made me _Beauty's_ slave. + +3. + + Here I can trace--ah no! that eye, + Whose azure floats in liquid fire, + Must all the painter's art defy, + And bid him from the task retire. + +4. + + Here I behold, its beauteous hue, + But where's the beam of soft desire? + Which gave a lustre to its blue, + Love, only love, could e'er inspire. + +5. + + Sweet copy! far more dear to me, + Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, + Than all the living forms could be, + Save her, who plac'd thee next my heart. + +6. + + She plac'd it, sad with needless fear, + Lest time might shake my wavering soul, + Unconscious that her image there, + Held every sense in fast controul. + +7. + + Through hours, through years, through time 'twill cheer, + My hope in gloomy moments raise; + In life's last conflict 't'will appear, + And meet my fond, expiring gaze. + + * * * * * + + +ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX, THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN +THE MORNING POST. + + + "Our Nation's foes, lament on _Fox's_ death, + "But bless the hour, when PITT resign'd his breath; + "These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue, + "We give the palm, where Justice points its due." + +_To which the Author of these Pieces, sent the subjoined Reply, for +Insertion in the_ MORNING CHRONICLE.-- + + Oh! factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth, + Would mangle still the dead, in spite of truth, + What though our "nation's foes" lament the fate, + With generous feeling, of the good and great; + Shall therefore dastard tongues assail the name + Of him whose virtues claim eternal fame? + When PITT expired in plenitude of power, + Though ill success obscur'd his dying hour, + Pity her dewy wings before him spread, + For noble spirits "war not with the dead;" + His friends in tears, a last sad requiem gave, + And all his errors slumber'd in the grave. + He died an Atlas, bending 'neath the weight, + Of cares oppressing our unhappy state; + But lo! another Hercules appear'd, + Who for a time, the ruined fabric rear'd; + He too is dead! who still our England propp'd, + With him our fast reviving hopes have dropp'd; + Not one great people only raise his urn, + All Europe's far extended regions mourn. + "These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue, + "And give the palm where Justice points it due;" + But let not canker'd calumny assail, + And round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. + Fox! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep, + Whose dear remains in honoured marble sleep; + For whom at last, even hostile nations groan, + And friends and foes alike his talents own; + Fox! shall in Britain's future annals shine, + Nor e'en to _Pitt_, the patriot's _palm_ resign; + Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask, + For PITT, and PITT alone, would dare to ask. + + * * * * * + + +TO A LADY, WHO PRESENTED THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR, BRAIDED WITH HIS +OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN DECEMBER, TO MEET HIM IN THE GARDEN. + + + These locks which fondly thus entwine, + In firmer chains our hearts confine; + Than all th' unmeaning protestations, + Which swell with nonsense, love orations. + Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it, + Nor time, nor place, nor art, have mov'd it; + Then wherefore should we sigh, and whine, + With groundless jealousy repine. + With silly whims, and fancies frantic, + Merely to make our love romantic. + Why should you weep like _Lydia Languish_, + And fret with self-created anguish. + Or doom the lover you have chosen, + On winter nights, to sigh half frozen: + In leafless shades, to sue for pardon, + Only because the scene's a garden. + For gardens seem by one consent + (Since SHAKESPEARE set the precedent;) + (Since Juliet first declar'd her passion) + To form the place of assignation. + Oh! would some modern muse inspire, + And seat her by a _sea-coal_ fire, + Or had the bard at Christmas written, + And laid the scene of love in Britain; + He surely in commiseration, + Had chang'd the place of declaration. + In Italy I've no objection, + Warm nights are proper for reflection; + But here, our climate is so rigid, + That love itself, is rather frigid; + Think on our chilly situation, + And curb this rage for imitation. + Then let us meet, as oft we've done, + Beneath the influence of the sun; + Or, if at midnight I must meet you, + Oh! let me in your chamber greet you; + _There_ we can love for hours together, + Much better in such snowy weather, + Than plac'd in all th' Arcadian groves, + That ever witness'd rural loves; + _There_ if my passion fail to please, + Next night I'll be content to freeze; + No more I'll give a loose to laughter, + But curse my fate, forever after. + + * * * * * + + +TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. + + + Sweet girl! though only once we met, + That meeting I shall ne'er forget; + And though we ne'er may meet again, + Remembrance will thy form retain; + I would not say, "I love" but still + My senses struggle with my will; + In vain to drive thee from my breast, + My thoughts are more and more represt, + In vain, I check the rising sighs, + Another to the last replies; + Perhaps this is not love, but yet + Our meeting I can ne'er forget. + + What though we never silence broke, + Our eyes a sweeter language spoke; + The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, + And tells a tale, it never feels; + Deceit, the guilty lips impart, + And hush the mandates of the heart, + But soul's interpreters, the eyes + Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise. + As thus our glances oft convers'd, + And all our bosoms felt, rehears'd, + No _spirit_ from within reprov'd us, + Say rather, "'twas the _spirit mov'd us_." + Though what they utter'd, I repress, + Yet, I conceive, thou'lt partly guess; + For, as on thee, my memory ponders, + Perchance, to me thine also wanders; + This for myself, at least I'll say, + Thy form appears through night, through day, + Awake, with it my fancy teems, + In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams; + The vision charms the hours away, + And bids me curse Aurora's ray; + For breaking slumbers of delight, + Which make me wish for endless night. + Since, oh! whate'er my future fate, + Shall joy or woe my steps await; + Tempted by love, by storms beset, + Thine image, I can ne'er forget. + + Alas! again no more we meet, + No more our former looks repeat; + Then let me breathe this parting prayer, + The dictate of my bosom's care: + "May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker, + "That anguish never can o'ertake her; + "That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her, + "But bliss be aye, her heart's partaker: + "No jealous passion shall invade, + "No envy that pure breast pervade;" + For he that revels in such charms, + Can never seek another's arms; + "Oh! may the happy mortal fated, + "To be by dearest ties related; + "For _her_ each hour _new joy_ discover, + "And lose the husband in the lover. + "May that fair bosom never know + "What 'tis to feel the restless woe; + "Which stings the soul, with vain regret, + "Of him, who never can forget." + + * * * * * + + +TO JULIA! + + + Julia! since far from you I've rang'd, + Our souls with fond affection glow not; + You say 'tis I, _not you_ have chang'd, + I'd tell you why,--but yet I know not. + +2. + + Your polish'd brow, no cares have crost, + And Julia! we are not much older, + Since trembling first my heart I lost, + Or told my love with hope, grown bolder. + +3. + + Sixteen was then our utmost age, + Two years have lingering pass'd away, love! + And now new thoughts our minds engage, + At least, _I_ feel disposed to stray, love! + +4. + + 'Tis _I_, that am alone to blame, + _I_, that am guilty of love's treason; + Since your sweet breast, is still the same, + Caprice must be my only reason. + +5. + + I do not, love, suspect your truth, + With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not, + Warm was the passion of my youth, + One trace of dark deceit it leaves not. + +6. + + No, no, my flame was not pretended, + For oh! I lov'd you most sincerely, + And though our dream at last is ended, + My bosom still esteems you dearly. + +7. + + No more we meet in yonder bowers, + Perhaps my soul's too prone to roving, + But older, firmer _hearts_ than ours, + Have found monotony in loving. + +8. + + Your cheeks soft bloom is unimpair'd, + Your beauties still are daily bright'ning, + Your eye for conquest comes prepar'd, + The forge of love's resistless lightning. + +9. + + Arm'd thus to make their bosoms bleed, + Many will throng to sigh like me, love, + More constant they may prove indeed, + Fonder alas! they ne'er can be, love! + + * * * * * + + +TO WOMAN. + + + Surely experience might have told me, + That all must love thee, who behold thee; + Surely experience might have taught, + A woman's promises are naught, + But plac'd in all thy charms before me, + All I forget, but to _adore_ thee. + Oh memory! thou choicest blessing, + When join'd with hope, when still possessing; + Thou whisperest, as our hearts are beating, + "What oft we've done, we're still repeating." + But how much curst by every lover, + When hope is fled, and passion's over. + Woman that fair and fond deceiver, + How prompt are striplings to believe her, + How throbs the pulse, when first we view, + The eye that rolls in glossy blue; + Or sparkles black, or mildly throws, + A beam from under hazel brows; + How quick we credit every oath, + And hear her plight the willing troth; + Fondly we hope 'twill last for aye, + When lo! she changes in a day, + The Record will forever stand, + "That woman's vows, are writ in sand." + + * * * * * + + +AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE DELIVERED BY THE AUTHOR, PREVIOUS TO THE +PERFORMANCE OF THE WHEEL OF FORTUNE, AT A PRIVATE THEATRE. + + + Since the refinement of this polish'd age, + Has swept immoral raillery from the stage; + Since taste has now expung'd licentious wit, + Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ; + Since now to please with purer scenes we seek, + Nor dare to call the blush from beauty's cheek; + Oh! let the modest muse some pity claim, + And meet indulgence--though she find not fame. + But not for _her_ alone, we wish respect, + _Others_ appear more conscious of defect; + To night, no _Veteran Roscii_ you behold, + In all the arts of scenic action old; + No COOKE, no KEMBLE, can salute you here, + No SIDDONS draw the sympathetic tear, + To night, you thong to witness the debut, + Of embryo actors to the drama new; + Here then, our almost unfledg'd wings we try, + Clip not our _pinions_, ere the _birds can fly_; + Failing in this our first attempt to soar, + Drooping, alas, we fall to rise no more. + Not one poor trembler only, fear betrays, + Who hopes, yet almost dreads to meet your praise; + But all our Dramatis Personae wait, + In fond suspense, this crisis of their fate; + No venal views our progress can retard, + Your generous plaudits are our sole reward; + For them each _Hero_ all his power displays, + Each timid _Heroine_ shrinks before your gaze: + Surely these last will some protection find, + None to the softer sex can prove unkind; + Whilst youth and beauty form the female shield, + The sternest critic to the fair must yield. + But should our feeble efforts nought avail, + Should, _after all_, our best endeavours fail; + Still let some mercy in your bosoms live, + And if you can't applaud, at least _forgive_. + + * * * * * + + +TO MISS E.P. + + +1. + + Eliza! what fools are the Mussulman sect, + Who to woman deny the soul's future existence, + Could they see thee, Eliza! they'd own their defect, + And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance. + +2. + + Had their Prophet possess'd but an atom of sense, + He ne'er would have _woman_ from Paradise driven, + But instead of his _Houris_ a flimsy pretence, + With _woman alone_, he had peopled his Heaven. + +3. + + But still to increase your calamities more, + Not content with depriving your bodies of spirit, + He allots but _one husband_ to share amongst four, + With _souls_ you'd dispense--but this last who could bear it. + +4. + + His religion to please neither _party_ is made, + On _husbands_ 'tis _hard_, to the wives most uncivil; + But I can't contradict what so oft has been said, + "Though women are angels, yet wedlock's the devil." + +5. + + This terrible truth, even Scripture has told, + Ye Benedicks! hear me, and listen with rapture; + If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold, + Of St. MATT.--read the second and twentieth chapter. + +6. + + 'Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex'd, + With wives who eternal confusion are spreading; + "But in Heaven" (so runs the Evangelist's Text,) + "We neither have giving in marriage, or wedding." + +7. + + From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,) + That should Saints after death, with their spouses put up more, + And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway, + All Heaven would ring with the conjugal uproar. + +8. + + Distraction and discord would follow in course, + Nor MATTHEW, nor MARK, nor St. PAUL, can deny it, + The only expedient is general divorce, + To prevent universal disturbance and riot. + +9. + + But though husband and wife, shall at length be disjoin'd + Yet woman and man ne'er were meant to dissever, + Our chains once dissolv'd, and our hearts unconfin'd, + We'll love without bonds, but we'll love you forever. + +10. + + Though souls are denied you by fools and by rakes, + Should you own it yourselves, I would even then doubt you, + Your nature so much of _celestial_ partakes, + The Garden of Eden would wither without you. + +SOUTHWELL, _October_ 9, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +THE TEAR. + + +1. + + When Friendship or Love, + Our sympathies move, + When Truth in a glance should appear, + The lips may beguile, + With a dimple or smile, + But the test of affection's a _tear_. + +2. + + Too oft is a smile, + But the hypocrite's wile, + To mask detestation, or fear, + Give me the soft sigh, + Whilst the soul telling eye + Is dimm'd, for a time, with a _tear_. + +3. + + Mild charity's glow, + To us mortals below, + Shows the soul from barbarity clear, + Compassion will melt, + Where this virtue is felt, + And its dew is diffused in a _tear_. + +4. + + The man doom'd to sail, + With the blast of the gale, + Through billows Atlantic to steer, + As he bends o'er the wave, + Which may soon be his grave, + The green sparkles bright with a _tear_. + +5. + + The soldier braves death, + For a fanciful wreath, + In Glory's romantic career; + But he raises the foe, + When in battle laid low, + And bathes every wound with a _tear_. + +6. + + When with high bounding pride, + He returns to his bride, + Renouncing the gore crimson'd spear; + All his toils are repaid, + When embracing the maid, + From her eyelid he kisses the tear. + +7. + + Sweet scene of my youth, + Seat of Friendship and Truth, + Where Love chac'd each fast-fleeting year, + Loth to leave thee I mourn'd, + For a last look I turn'd, + But thy spire was scarce seen through a _tear_. + +8. + + Though my vows I can pour, + To my Mary no more, + My Mary to love once so _dear_, + In the shade of her bower, + I remember the hour, + She rewarded those vows with a _tear_. + +9. + + By another possest, + May she live ever blest, + Her name still my heart must revere, + With a sigh I resign, + What I once thought was mine, + And forgive her deceit with a _tear_. + +10. + + Ye friends of my heart, + Ere from you I depart, + This hope to my breast is most near, + If again we shall meet, + In this rural retreat, + May we _meet_, as we _part_, with a _tear_. + +11. + + When my soul wings her flight, + To the regions of night, + And my body shall sleep on its bier; + As ye pass by the tomb, + Where my ashes consume, + Oh! moisten their dust with a _tear_. + +12. + + May no marble bestow, + The splendour of woe, + Which the children of Vanity rear, + No fiction of fame, + Shall blazon my name, + All I ask, all I wish, is a _tear_. + +BYRON, _October 26_, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J.M.B. PIGOT, ESQ. ON THE CRUELTY OF HIS +MISTRESS. + + +1. + + Why PIGOT, complain, + Of this damsel's disdain, + Why thus in despair, do you fret? + For months you may try, + But believe me a _sigh_, + Will never obtain a coquette. + +2. + + Would you teach her to love, + For a time seem to rove, + At first she may _frown_ in a _pet_; + But leave her awhile, + She shortly will smile, + And then you may _kiss_ your _coquette_. + +3. + + For such are the airs, + Of these fanciful fairs, + They think all our _homage_ a _debt_; + But a partial neglect, + Soon takes an effect, + And humbles the proudest _coquette_. + +4. + + Dissemble your pain, + And lengthen your chain, + Nor seem her _hauteur_ to _regret_, + If again you shall sigh, + She no more will deny, + That _yours_ is the rosy _coquette_. + +5. + + But if from false pride, + Your pangs she deride, + This whimsical virgin forget; + Some _other_ admire, + Who will _melt_ with your _fire_, + And laugh at the _little_ coquette. + +6. + + For _me_, I adore, + Some _twenty_ or more, + And love them most dearly, but yet, + Though my heart they enthral, + I'd abandon them all, + Did they act like your blooming _coquette_. + +7. + + No longer repine, + But form this design, + And break through her slight woven net; + Away with despair, + No longer forbear, + To fly from the captious coquette. + +8. + + Then quit her, my friend! + Your bosom defend, + Ere quite with her snares you're beset; + Lest your deep wounded heart + When incens'd by the smart, + Should lead you to _curse_ the coquette. + +BYRON, _October_ 27, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +GRANTA, A MEDLEY. + + + Oh! could LE SAGE's[8] demon's gift, + Be realized at my desire, + This night my trembling form he'd lift, + And place it on St. Mary's spire. + +2. + + Then would unroof'd old Granta's Halls + Pedantic inmates full display, + _Fellows_ who dream on _lawn_, or _stalls_, + The price of hireling votes to pay. + +3. + + Then would I view each rival Wight, + PETTY and PALMERSTON survey, + Who canvass now with all their might, + Against the next elective day. + +4. + + One on his power and place depends, + The other on the Lord knows what, + Each to some eloquence pretends, + But neither will convince by _that_. + +5. + + The first indeed may not demur, + Fellows are sage reflecting men, + And know preferment can occur, + But very seldom, _now_ and _then_. + +6. + + They know the Chancellor has got, + Some pretty livings in disposal, + Each hopes that _one_ may be his _lot_, + And therefore smiles at his proposal. + +7. + + Now from corruption's shameless scene, + I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, + And view unheeded, and unseen, + The studious sons of Alma Mater. + +8. + + There in apartments small and damp, + The candidate for college prizes, + Sits poring by the midnight lamp, + Goes late to bed and early rises. + +9. + + He surely well deserves to gain them, + And all the honours of His college, + Who striving hardly to obtain them, + Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge. + +10. + + Who sacrifices hours of rest, + To scan precisely metres attic, + And agitates his anxious breast, + In solving problems mathematic. + +11. + + Who reads false quantities in Sele,[9] + Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle, + And robs himself of many a meal, + In _barbarous latin_[10] doom'd to wrangle. + +12. + + Renouncing every pleasing page, + From authors of historic use, + Preferring to the lettered sage, + The square of the hypothenuse.[11] + +13. + + But harmless are these occupations, + Which hurt none but the hapless student; + Compared with other recreations, + Which bring together the imprudent. + +14. + + Whose daring revels shock the sight, + When vice and infamy combine, + When drunkenness and dice unite, + And every sense is steep'd in wine. + +15. + + Not so the methodistic crew, + Who plans of reformation lay, + In humble attitude they sue, + And for the sins of others pray. + +16. + + Forgetting that their pride of spirit, + And exultation in their trial; + Detracts most largely from the merit, + Of all their boasted self-denial. + +17. + + 'Tis morn,--from these I turn my sight, + What scene is this which meets the eye, + As numerous crowd array'd in white,[12] + Across the green in numbers fly. + +18. + + 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 listening ear. + +19. + + To this is join'd the sacred song, + The royal minstrel's hallowed strain, + But _he_ who hears the _music_ long, + Will _never_ wish to _hear again_. + +20. + + Our choir would scarcely be excus'd, + Even as a band of raw beginners, + But mercy now must be refus'd, + To such a set of croaking sinners. + +21. + + 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. + +22. + + The luckless Israelites when taken, + By some inhuman tyrant's order, + Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken, + On Babylonian river's border. + +23. + + But had they sung in notes like these, + Inspir'd by stratagem, or fear, + They might have set their hearts at ease, + The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. + +24. + + _But if I write_ much longer now, + The deuce a soul _will stay to read_, + My pen is blunt, the ink is low, + 'Tis almost time to _stop, indeed_. + +25. + + Therefore farewell, old GRANTA's spires, + No more like _Cleofas_ I fly, + No more thy theme my muse inspires, + The reader's tired, and so am I. + +_October_ 28, 1806. + +[Footnote 8: The Diable Boiteux of LE SAGE, where Asmodeus the Demon, +places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses +for his inspection.] + +[Footnote 9: Sele's publication on Greek metres is not remarkable for +its accuracy.] + +[Footnote 10: Every Cambridge man will assent to this,--the Latin of +the Schools is almost unintelligible.] + +[Footnote 11: 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.] + +[Footnote 12: On a Saint Day, the Students wear Surplices in Chapel.] + + * * * * * + + +TO THE SIGHING STREPHON. + + + Your pardon my friend, + If my rhymes did offend, + Your pardon a thousand times o'er, + From friendship I strove, + Your pangs to remove, + But I swear I will do so no more. + +2. + + Since your _beautiful_ maid + Your flame has repaid, + No more I your folly regret; + She's now most divine, + And I bow at the shrine, + Of this quickly reformed coquette. + +3. + + But still I must own, + I should never have known, + From _your verses_ what else she deserv'd, + Your pain seem'd so great, + I pitied your fate, + As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd. + +4. + + But since the chaste kiss, + Of this magical Miss, + Such wonderful transports produce, + Since the "_world you forget," + "When your lips once have met_," + My Counsel will get but abuse. + +5. + + You say "when I rove" + "I know nothing of love," + 'Tis true I am given to range, + If I rightly remember, + I've kiss'd a good number, + But there's pleasure at least in a change. + +6. + + I ne'er will advance, + By the rules of romance, + To humour a whimsical fair, + Though a smile may delight, + Yet a _frown_ wont _affright_, + Or drive me to dreadful despair. + +7. + + Whilst my blood is thus warm, + I ne'er shall reform, + To mix in the Platonist's school; + Of this I am sure, + Was my passion so pure, + _My mistress_ must think me _a fool_. + +8. + + Though the kisses are sweet, + Which voluptuously meet, + Of kissing I ne'er was so fond, + As to make me forget, + Though our lips oft have met, + That still there was _something beyond_. + +9. + + And if I should shun, + Every _woman_ for _one_, + Whose _image_ must fill my whole breast; + Whom I must _prefer_, + And _sigh_ but for _her_, + What an _insult_ 'twould be to the _rest_! + +10. + + Now, Strephon, good bye, + I cannot deny, + _Your passion_ appears most absurd, + Such _love_ as you plead, + Is _pure_ love indeed, + For it _only_ consists in the _word_. + + * * * * * + + +THE CORNELIAN. + + + No specious splendour of this stone, + Endears it to my memory ever, + With lustre _only once_ it shone, + But blushes modest as the giver. + +2. + + Some who can sneer at friendship's ties, + Have for my weakness oft reprov'd me, + Yet still the simple gift I prize, + For I am sure, the giver lov'd me. + +3. + + He offered it with downcast look, + As _fearful_ that I might refuse it, + I told him when the gift I took, + My _only fear_ should be to lose it. + +4. + + This pledge attentively I view'd, + And _sparkling_ as I held it near, + Methought one drop the stone bedew'd, + And ever since _I've lov'd a tear_. + +5. + + Still to adorn his humble youth, + Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield, + But he who seeks the flowers of truth, + Must quit the garden for the field. + +6. + + 'Tis not the plant uprear'd in sloth, + Which beauty shews, and sheds perfume, + The flowers which yield the most of both, + In nature's wild luxuriance bloom. + +7. + + Had Fortune aided nature's care, + For once forgetting to be blind, + _His_ would have been an ample share, + If well proportioned to his mind. + +8. + + But had the Goddess clearly seen, + His form had fixed her fickle breast, + _Her_ countless hoards would _his_ have been, + And none remain'd to give the rest. + + * * * * * + + +TO A. ---- + + Oh! did those eyes instead of fire, + With bright, but mild affection shine, + Though they might kindle less desire, + Love, more than mortal, would be thine. + +2. + + For thou art form'd so heavenly fair, + _Howe'er_ those orbs _may_ wildly beam, + We _must_ admire, but still despair, + That fatal glance forbids esteem. + +3. + + When nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth, + So much perfection in thee shone, + She fear'd, that too divine for earth, + The skies might claim thee for their own. + +4. + + Therefore to guard her dearest work, + Lest angels might dispute the prize, + She bade a secret lightning lurk, + Within those once celestial eyes. + +5. + + These might the boldest Sylph appal, + When gleaming with meridian blaze, + Thy beauty must enrapture all, + But who can dare thine ardent gaze? + +6. + + 'Tis said that Berenice's hair, + In stars adorns the vault of heaven, + But they would ne'er permit _thee_ there, + _Thou_ would'st so far outshine the seven. + +7. + + For did those eyes as planets roll, + Thy sister lights would scarce appear, + E'en suns which systems now controul, + Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. + +_Friday, Nov. 7th_, 1806. + + * * * * * + + +AS THE AUTHOR WAS DISCHARGING HIS PISTOLS IN A GARDEN, TWO LADIES +PASSING NEAR THE SPOT, WERE ALARMED BY THE SOUND OF A BULLET HISSING +NEAR THEM. TO ONE OF WHOM THE FOLLOWING VERSES ON THE OCCASION, WERE +ADDRESSED THE NEXT MORNING. + + +1. + + Doubtless, sweet girl, the hissing lead, + Wafting destruction near thy charms, + And hurtling[13] o'er thy lovely head, + Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms. + +2. + + Surely some envious Demon's force, + Vex'd to behold such beauty here, + Impell'd the bullet's viewless course, + Diverted from its first career. + +3. + + Yes! in that nearly fatal hour, + The ball obey'd some hell-born guide, + But Heaven with interposing power, + In pity turn'd the death aside. + +4. + + Yet, as perchance one trembling tear, + Upon that thrilling bosom fell, + Which _I_, th' unconscious cause of fear, + Extracted from its glistening cell;-- + +5. + + Say, what dire penance can atone? + For such an outrage done to thee, + Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne, + What punishment wilt thou decree? + +6. + + Might I perform the Judge's part, + The sentence I should scarce deplore. + It only would restore a heart, + Which but belong'd to _thee_ before. + +7. + + The least atonement, I can make, + Is to become no longer free, + Henceforth, I breathe, but for thy sake. + Thou shall be _all in all_ to me. + +8. + + But thou perhaps may'st now reject + Such expiation of my guilt, + Come then--some other mode elect? + Let it be death--or what thou wilt. + +9. + + Choose then relentless! and I swear, + Nought shall thy dread decree prevent, + Yet hold--one little word forbear! + Let it be aught but _banishment_. + +[Footnote 13: This word is used by GRAY in his poem to the fatal +Sisters:-- + + "Iron sleet of arrowy shower, + _Hurtles_ through the darken'd air." + + * * * * * + + +TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. AD LESBIAM. + + + Equal to Jove, that youth must be, + _Greater_ than Jove he seems to me; + Who free from Jealousy's alarms, + Securely views thy matchless charms; + That cheek which ever dimpling glows, + That mouth from whence such music flows; + To him alike are always known, + Reserv'd for him, and him alone. + Ah Lesbia! though 'tis death to me, + I cannot choose, but look on thee; + But at the sight, my senses fly, + I needs must gaze, but gazing die; + Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, + Parch'd to the throat, my tongue adheres. + My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short, + My limbs deny their slight support. + Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread, + With deadly languor droops my head. + My ears with tingling echoes ring, + And life itself is on the wing; + My eyes refuse the cheering light, + Their orbs are veil'd in starless night: + Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, + And feels a temporary death.-- + + * * * * * + + +TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS, BY DOMITIUS MARSUS. + + + He who sublime in epic numbers roll'd, + And he who struck the softer lyre of love, + By Death's [14]_unequal_ hand alike controul'd, + Fit comrades in Elysian regions move. + +[Footnote 14: The hand of Death is said to be unjust or unequal, as +Virgil was considerably older than Tibullus, at his decease.] + + * * * * * + + +IMITATION OF TIBULLUS "SULPICIA AD CERINTUM." LIB. QUART. + + + Cruel Cerintus! does this fell disease, + Which racks my breast, your fickle bosom please. + Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain, + That I might live for love, and you again, + But now I scarcely shall bewail my fate, + By Death alone, I can avoid your hate. + + * * * * * + + +TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. LUCTUS DE NORTE PASSERIS. + + + Ye Cupids droop each little head, + Nor let your wings with joy be spread, + My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead, + Which dearer than her eyes she lov'd: + For he was gentle and so true, + Obedient to her call he flew, + No fear, no wild alarm he knew, + But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd. + + And softly fluttering here, and there, + He never sought to cleave the air, + But chirrup'd oft, and free from care, + Tun'd to her ear his grateful strain. + But now he's pass'd the gloomy bourn, + From whence he never can return, + His death, and Lesbia's grief I mourn, + Who sighs alas! but sighs in vain. + + Oh curst be thou! devouring grave! + Whose jaws eternal victims crave, + From whom no earthly power can save, + For thou hast ta'en the bird away. + From thee, my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow, + Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow, + _Thou_ art the cause of all her woe, + Receptacle of life's decay. + + * * * * * + + +IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. TO ANNA. + + + Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire, + A million scarce would quench desire, + Still would I steep my lips in bliss, + And dwell an age on every kiss; + Nor then my soul should sated be, + Still would I kiss, and cling to thee, + Nought should my kiss from thine dissever. + Still would we kiss, and kiss forever; + E'en though the number did exceed, + The yellow harvest's countless seed, + To part would be a vain endeavour, + Could I desist?--ah! never--never. + +_November_ 16, 1806. + + * * * * * + +Printed by S. and J. 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