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If you are not located in the United States, you'll have +to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. + +Title: Byron's Poetical Works, Vol. 1 + +Author: Byron + +Editor: Ernest Hartley Coleridge + +Posting Date: February 22, 2015 [EBook #8861] +Release Date: September, 2005 +First Posted: August 15, 2003 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BYRON'S POETICAL WORKS, VOL. 1 *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Clytie Siddall and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1>Byron's <i>Poetical Works</i></h1> + +<br> +<br> +<b>a new, revised and enlarged edition, with illustrations<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +Volume 1.<br> +<br> +<br> + edited by Ernest Hartley Coleridge.</b><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + +<p><b><a name="toc">Table of Contents</a></b></p> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#introduction"><span style= +"color: #555555;">Preface</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section1"><i>Poems on Various Occasions</i>: <span +style="color: #555555;">facsimile of title page and Byron's +disclaimer</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section2"><span style= +"color: #555555;">Bibliographical Note to</span> <i>'Hours of +Idleness' and Other Early Poems</i></a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section2a"><span style="color: #555555;">facsimiles +of title pages of two different editions</span></a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section3"><span style= +"color: #555555;">Bibliographical Note to</span> <i>English Bards +and Scotch Reviewers</i></a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section3a"><span style="color: #555555;">facsimile +of title page of</span> <i>English Bards</i>, <span style= +"color: #555555;">including Byron's signature</span></a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section4"><i>Hours of Idleness</i> and other Early +Poems</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section5">Fugitive Pieces</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section6">On Leaving Newstead Abbey</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section7">To E——</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section8">On the Death of a Young Lady, Cousin to +the Author, and very dear to Him</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section9">To D——</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section10">To Caroline</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section11">To Caroline</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section11b">To Emma</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section12">Fragments of School Exercises: From the +<i>Prometheus Vinctus</i> of Æschylus</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section13">Lines written in "Letters of an Italian +Nun and an English Gentleman, by J.J. Rousseau: Founded on +Facts"</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section14">Answer to the Foregoing, Addressed to +Miss——</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section15">On a Change of Masters at a Great Public +School</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section16">Epitaph on a Beloved Friend</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section17">Adrian's Address to his Soul when +Dying</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section18">A Fragment</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section19">To Caroline</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section20">To Caroline</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section21">On a Distant View of the Village and +School of Harrow on the Hill, 1806</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section22">Thoughts Suggested by a College +Examination</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section23">To Mary, on Receiving Her +Picture</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section24">On the Death of Mr. Fox</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section25">To a Lady who Presented to the Author a +Lock of Hair Braided with his own, and appointed a Night in +December to meet him in the Garden</a></li> + +<li><a name="fp1"></a><a href="#section26">To a Beautiful +Quaker</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section27">To Lesbia!</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section28">To Woman</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section29">An Occasional Prologue, <span style= +"color: #555555;">Delivered by the Author Previous to the +Performance of "The Wheel of Fortune" at a Private +Theatre</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section30">To Eliza</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section31">The Tear</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section32">Reply to some Verses of J.M.B. Pigot, +Esq., on the Cruelty of his Mistress</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section33">Granta. A Medley</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section34">To the Sighing Strephon</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section35">The Cornelian</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section36">To M——</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section37">Lines Addressed to a Young Lady. <span +style="color: #555555;">[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 stanzas were addressed the next +morning]</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section38">Translation from Catullus. <i>Ad +Lesbiam</i></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section39">Translation of the Epitaph on Virgil and +Tibullus, by Domitius Marsus</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section40">Imitation of Tibullus. <i>Sulpicia ad +Cerinthum</i></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section41">Translation from Catullus. <i>Lugete +Veneres Cupidinesque</i></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section42">Imitated from Catullus. To +Ellen</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section43">Poems on Various Occasions</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section44">To M. S. G.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section45">Stanzas to a Lady, with the Poems of +Camoëns</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section46">To M. S. G.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section47">Translation from Horace. <i>Justum et +tenacem</i>, etc.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section48">The First Kiss of Love</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section49">Childish Recollections</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section50">Answer to a Beautiful Poem, Written by +Montgomery, Author of <i>The Wanderer in Switzerland</i>, etc., +entitled <i>The Common Lot</i></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section51">Love's Last Adieu</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section52">Lines Addressed to the Rev. J.T. Becher, +on his advising the Author to mix more with Society</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section53">Answer to some Elegant Verses sent by a +Friend to the Author, complaining that one of his descriptions +was rather too warmly drawn</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section54">Elegy on Newstead Abbey.</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a name="fp2"></a><a href="#section55">Hours of +Idleness</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section56">To George, Earl Delawarr</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section57">Damætas</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section58">To Marion</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section59">Oscar of Alva</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section60">Translation from Anacreon. <i>Ode +1</i></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section61">From Anacreon. <i>Ode 3</i></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section62">The Episode of Nisus and Euryalus. A +Paraphrase from the <i>Æneid</i>, Lib. 9</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section63">Translation from the <i>Medea</i> of +Euripides [L. 627-660]</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section64">Lachin y Gair</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section65">To Romance</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section66">The Death of Calmar and Orla</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section67">To Edward Noel Long, Esq.</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section68">To a Lady</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section69">Poems Original and Translated</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section70">When I Roved a Young Highlander</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section71">To the Duke of Dorset</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section72">To the Earl of Clare</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section73">I would I were a Careless Child</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section74">Lines Written beneath an Elm in the +Churchyard of Harrow</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section75">Early Poems from Various +Sources</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section76">Fragment, Written Shortly after the +Marriage of Miss Chaworth. <span style="color: #555555;">First +published in Moore's <i>Letters and Journals of Lord +Byron</i></span>, 1830, i. 56</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section77">Remembrance. <span style= +"color: #555555;">First published in <i>Works of Lord Byron</i>, +1832, vii. 152</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section78">To a Lady Who Presented the Author with +the Velvet Band which bound her Tresses. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 151</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section79">To a Knot of Ungenerous Critics. <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section80">Soliloquy of a Bard in the Country. +<span style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section81">L'Amitié est L'Amour sans Ailes. +<span style="color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. +161</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section82">The Prayer of Nature. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Letters and Journals</i>, 1830, i. +106</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section83">Translation from Anacreon. Ode 5. <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section84">Ossian's Address to the Sun in +"Carthon." <span style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. +Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a name="fp3"></a><a href="#section85">Pignus Amoris. <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section86">A Woman's Hair. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 151</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section87">Stanzas to Jessy. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Monthly Literary Recreations</i>, July, +1807</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section88">The Adieu. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 195</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section89">To——<span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section90">On the Eyes of Miss A—— +H—— <span style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. +Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section91">To a Vain Lady. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 199</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section92">To Anne. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 201</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section93">Egotism. A Letter to J.T. Becher. <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section94">To Anne. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 202</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section95">To the Author of a Sonnet Beginning, +"'Sad is my verse,' you say, 'and yet no tear.'" <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 202</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section96">On Finding a Fan. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, 203</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section97">Farewell to the Muse. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 203</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section98">To an Oak at Newstead. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 206</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section99">On Revisiting Harrow. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Letters and Journals</i>, i. +102</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section100">To my Son. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Letters and Journals</i>, i. +104</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section101">Queries to Casuists. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section102">Song. Breeze of the Night. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>MS. Lovelace</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section103">To Harriet. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>MS. Newstead</i></span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section104">There was a Time, I need not name. +<span style="color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, +1809, p. 200</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section105">And wilt Thou weep when I am low? <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, +p. 202</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section106">Remind me not, Remind me not. <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, +p. 197</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section107">To a Youthful Friend. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. +185</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section108">Lines Inscribed upon a Cup Formed from +a Skull. First published, <span style="color: #555555;"><i>Childe +Harold</i>, Cantos i., ii. (Seventh Edition), +1814</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section109">Well! Thou art Happy. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. +192</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section110">Inscription on the Monument of a +Newfoundland Dog. <span style="color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and +Translations</i>, 1809, p. 190</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section111">To a Lady, On Being asked my reason for +quitting England in the Spring. <span style= +"color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. +195</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section112">Fill the Goblet Again. A Song. <span +style="color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, +p. 204</span></a></li> + +<li><a href="#section113">Stanzas to a Lady, on Leaving England. +<span style="color: #555555;"><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, +1809, p. 227</span></a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a name="fp4"></a><a href="#section114">English Bards and +Scotch Reviewers</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section114a">Preface</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section114b">Introduction</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section114c">English Bards and Scotch +Reviewers</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section114d">Postscript to the Second +Edition</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section115">Hints from Horace</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section115a">Introduction</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section115b">Hints from Horace</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section116">The Curse of Minerva</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section116a">Notes to this edition</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section116b">Introduction</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section116c">The Curse of Minerva</a></li> +</ul> +</li> + +<li><a href="#section117">The Waltz</a></li> + +<li style="list-style: none"> +<ul> +<li><a href="#section117a">Introduction</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section117b">Note to this edition</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section117c">Preface</a></li> + +<li><a href="#section117d">The Waltz</a></li> +</ul> +</li> +</ul> +</li> +</ul> + +<h2><a name="introduction">Preface</a></h2> + +<br> +The text of the present issue of Lord Byron's <i>Poetical +Works</i> is based on that of <i>The Works of Lord Byron</i>, in +six volumes, 12mo, which was published by John Murray in 1831. +That edition followed the text of the successive issues of plays +and poems which appeared in the author's lifetime, and were +subject to his own revision, or that of Gifford and other +accredited readers. A more or less thorough collation of the +printed volumes with the MSS. which were at Moore's disposal, +yielded a number of <i>variorum</i> readings which have appeared +in subsequent editions published by John Murray. Fresh collations +of the text of individual poems with the original MSS. have been +made from time to time, with the result that the text of the +latest edition (one-vol. 8vo, 1891) includes some emendations, +and has been supplemented by additional variants. Textual errors +of more or less importance, which had crept into the numerous +editions which succeeded the seventeen-volume edition of 1832, +were in some instances corrected, but in others passed over. For +the purposes of the present edition the printed text has been +collated with all the MSS. which passed through Moore's hands, +and, also, for the first time, with MSS. of the following plays +and poems, viz. <i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>; +<i>Childe Harold</i>, Canto IV.; <i>Don Juan</i>, Cantos +VI.-XVI.; <i>Werner</i>; <i>The Deformed Transformed</i>; +<i>Lara</i>; <i>Parisina</i>; <i>The Prophecy of Dante</i>; +<i>The Vision of Judgment</i>; <i>The Age of Bronze</i>; <i>The +Island</i>. The only works of any importance which have been +printed directly from the text of the first edition, without +reference to the MSS., are the following, which appeared in +<i>The Liberal</i> (1822-23), viz.: <i>Heaven and Earth</i>, +<i>The Blues</i>, and <i>Morgante Maggiore</i>.<br> +<br> +A new and, it is believed, an improved punctuation has been +adopted. In this respect Byron did not profess to prepare his +MSS. for the press, and the punctuation, for which Gifford is +mainly responsible, has been reconsidered with reference solely +to the meaning and interpretation of the sentences as they +occur.<br> +<br> +In the <i>Hours of Idleness and Other Early Poems</i>, the +typography of the first four editions, as a rule, has been +preserved. A uniform typography in accordance with modern use has +been adopted for all poems of later date. <br> +<ul> +<li><i>Variants</i>, being the readings of one or more MSS. or of +successive editions, are [included as alphabetical footnotes to +each poem —html Ed.]</li> + +<li>Words and lines through which the author has drawn his pen in +the MSS. or Revises are marked <i>MS. erased</i>.</li> + +<li>Poems and plays are given, so far as possible, in +chronological order.<br> +<i>Childe Harold</i> and <i>Don Juan</i>, which were written and +published in parts, are printed continuously; and minor poems, +including the first four satires, have been arranged in groups +according to the date of composition.</li> + +<li>Epigrams and <i>jeux d'esprit</i> have been placed together, +in chronological order, towards the end of the sixth volume.</li> + +<li>A Bibliography of the poems will immediately precede the +Index at the close of the <b>sixth volume</b>.</li> +</ul> + +<br> +<br> +The edition contains at least thirty hitherto <b>unpublished +poems</b>, including fifteen stanzas of the unfinished +seventeenth canto of <i>Don Juan</i>, and a considerable fragment +of the third part of <i>The Deformed Transformed</i>. The eleven +unpublished poems from MSS. preserved at Newstead, which appear +in the first volume, are of slight if any literary value, but +they reflect with singular clearness and sincerity the temper and +aspirations of the tumultuous and moody stripling to whom "the +numbers came," but who wisely abstained from printing them +himself.<br> +<br> +Byron's <b>notes</b>, of which many are published for the first +time, and editorial notes, [are included as numerical footnotes +to each poem—html Ed.] The editorial notes are designed +solely to supply the reader with references to passages in other +works illustrative of the text, or to interpret expressions and +allusions which lapse of time may have rendered obscure.<br> +<br> +Much of the knowledge requisite for this purpose is to be found +in the articles of the <i>Dictionary of National Biography</i>, +to which the fullest acknowledgments are due; and much has been +arrived at after long research, involving a minute examination of +the literature, the magazines, and often the newspapers of the +period.<br> +<br> +Inasmuch as the poems and plays have been before the public for +more than three quarters of a century, it has not been thought +necessary to burden the notes with the eulogies and apologies of +the great poets and critics who were Byron's contemporaries, and +regarded his writings, both for good and evil, for praise and +blame, from a different standpoint from ours. Perhaps, even yet, +the time has not come for a definite and positive appreciation of +his genius. The tide of feeling and opinion must ebb and flow +many times before his rank and station among the poets of all +time will be finally adjudged. The splendour of his reputation, +which dazzled his own countrymen, and, for the first time, +attracted the attention of a contemporary European audience to an +English writer, has faded, and belongs to history; but the poet's +work remains, inviting a more intimate and a more extended +scrutiny than it has hitherto received in this country. The +reader who cares to make himself acquainted with the method of +Byron's workmanship, to unravel his allusions, and to follow the +tenour of his verse, will, it is hoped, find some assistance in +these volumes.<br> +<br> +I beg to record my especial thanks to the Earl of Lovelace for +the use of MSS. of his grandfather's poems, including unpublished +fragments; for permission to reproduce portraits in his +possession; and for valuable information and direction in the +construction of some of the notes.<br> +<br> +My grateful acknowledgments are due to Dr. Garnett, C.B., Dr. A. +H. Murray, Mr. R. E. Graves, and other officials of the British +Museum, for invaluable assistance in preparing the notes, and in +compiling a bibliography of the poems.<br> +<br> +I have also to thank Mr. Leslie Stephen and others for important +hints and suggestions with regard to the interpretation of some +obscure passages in <i>Hints from Horace</i>.<br> +<br> +In correcting the proofs for the press, I have had the advantage +of the skill and knowledge of my friend Mr. Frank E. Taylor, of +Chertsey, to whom my thanks are due.<br> +<br> +On behalf of the Publisher, I beg to acknowledge with gratitude +the kindness of the Lady Dorchester, the Earl Stanhope, Lord +Glenesk and Sir Theodore Martin, K.C.B., for permission to +examine MSS. in their possession; and of Mrs. Chaworth Musters, +for permission to reproduce her miniature of Miss Chaworth, and +for other favours. He desires also to acknowledge the generous +assistance of Mr. and Miss Webb, of Newstead Abbey, in permitting +the publication of MS. poems, and in making transcripts for the +press.<br> +<br> +I need hardly add that, throughout the progress of the work, the +advice and direct assistance of Mr. John Murray and Mr. R. E. +Prothero have been always within my reach. They have my cordial +thanks.<br> +<br> +Ernest Hartley Coleridge.<br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section1">Poems on Various Occasions</a></h2> + +<br> +<img src="images/BI4.gif" width="675" height="994" align="top" alt= +"facsimile of title page of 'Poems on Various Occasions'"><img +src="images/BI5.gif" width="488" height="253" align="top" alt= +"facsimile of disclaimer by Byron"><br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<h3><a name="section2">Bibliographical Note to <i>'Hours of +Idleness' and Other Early Poems</i></a></h3> + +<br> +There were four distinct issues of Byron's Juvenilia. The first +collection, entitled <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, was printed in +quarto by S. and J. Ridge of Newark. Two of the poems, <i>The +Tear</i> and the <i>Reply to Some Verses of J. M. B. Pigot, +Esq.</i>, were signed "Byron;" but the volume itself, which is +without a title-page, was anonymous. It numbers sixty-six pages, +and consists of thirty-eight distinct pieces. The last piece, +<i>Imitated from Catullus. To Anna</i>, is dated November 16, +1806. The whole of this issue, with the exception of two or three +copies, was destroyed. An imperfect copy, lacking pp. 17-20 and +pp. 58-66, is preserved at Newstead. A perfect copy, which had +been retained by the Rev. J. T. Becher, at whose instance the +issue was suppressed, was preserved by his family (see +<i>Life</i>, by Karl Elze, 1872, p. 450), and is now in the +possession of Mr. H. Buxton Forman, C.B. A facsimile reprint of +this unique volume, limited to one hundred copies, was issued, +for private circulation only, from the Chiswick Press in +1886.<br> +<br> +Of the thirty-eight <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, two poems, viz. <i>To +Caroline</i> and <i>To Mary</i>, together with the last six +stanzas of the lines, <i>To Miss E. P. [To Eliza]</i>, have never +been republished in any edition of Byron's <i>Poetical +Works</i>.<br> +<br> +A second edition, small octavo, of <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, +entitled <i>Poems on Various Occasions</i>, was printed by S. and +J. Ridge of Newark, and distributed in January, 1807. This volume +was issued anonymously. It numbers 144 pages, and consists of a +reproduction of thirty-six <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, and of twelve +hitherto unprinted poems--forty-eight in all. For references to +the distribution of this issue--limited, says Moore, to one +hundred copies--see letters to Mr. Pigot and the Earl of Clare, +dated January 16, February 6, 1807, and undated letters of the +same period to Mr. William Bankes and Mr. Falkner (<i>Life</i>, +pp. 41, 42). The annotated copy of <i>Poems on Various +Occasions</i>, referred to in the present edition, is in the +British Museum.<br> +<br> +Early in the summer (June--July) of 1807, a volume, small octavo, +named <i>Hours of Idleness</i>--a title henceforth associated +with Byron's early poems--was printed and published by S. and J. +Ridge of Newark, and was sold by the following London +booksellers: Crosby and Co.; Longman, Hurst, Rees, and Orme; F. +and C. Rivington; and J. Mawman. The full title is, "<i>Hours of +Idleness; a Series of Poems Original and Translated</i>. By +George Gordon, Lord Byron, a Minor". It numbers 187 pages, and +consists of thirty-nine poems. Of these, nineteen belonged to the +original <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, eight had first appeared in +<i>Poems on Various Occasions</i>, and twelve were published for +the first time. The "Fragment of a Translation from the 9th Book +of Virgil's Æneid" (<i>sic</i>), numbering sixteen lines, +reappears as <i>The Episode of Nisus and Euryalus, A Paraphrase +from the Æneid, Lib. 9</i>, numbering 406 lines.<br> +<br> +The final collection, also in small octavo, bearing the title +"<i>Poems Original and Translated</i>, by George Gordon, Lord +Byron", second edition, was printed and published in 1808 by S. +and J. Ridge of Newark, and sold by the same London booksellers +as <i>Hours of Idleness</i>. It numbers 174 pages, and consists +of seventeen of the original <i>Fugitive Pieces</i>, four of +those first published in <i>Poems on Various Occasions</i>, a +reprint of the twelve poems first published in <i>Hours of +Idleness</i>, and five poems which now appeared for the first +time--thirty-eight poems in all. Neither the title nor the +contents of this so-called second edition corresponds exactly +with the previous issue.<br> +<br> +Of the thirty-eight <i>Fugitive Pieces</i> which constitute the +suppressed quarto, only seventeen appear in all three subsequent +issues. Of the twelve additions to <i>Poems on Various +Occasions</i>, four were excluded from <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, +and four more from <i>Poems Original and Translated</i>.<br> +<br> +The collection of minor poems entitled <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, +which has been included in every edition of Byron's <i>Poetical +Works</i> issued by John Murray since 1831, consists of seventy +pieces, being the aggregate of the poems published in the three +issues, <i>Poems on Various Occasions</i>, <i>Hours of +Idleness</i>, and <i>Poems Original and Translated</i>, together +with five other poems of the same period derived from other +sources.<br> +<br> +In the present issue a general heading, "<i>Hours of +Idleness</i>, and other Early Poems," has been applied to the +entire collection of <i>Early Poems</i>, 1802-1809. The quarto +has been reprinted (excepting the lines <i>To Mary</i>, which +Byron himself deliberately suppressed) in its entirety, and in +the original order. The successive additions to the <i>Poems on +Various Occasions</i>, <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, and <i>Poems +Original and Translated</i>, follow in order of publication. The +remainder of the series, viz. poems first published in Moore's +<i>Life and Journals of Lord Byron</i> (1830); poems hitherto +unpublished; poems first published in the <i>Works of Lord +Byron</i> (1832), and poems contributed to J. C. Hobhouse's +<i>Imitations and Translations</i> (1809), have been arranged in +chronological order. (For an important contribution to the +bibliography of the quarto of 1806, and of the other issues of +Byron's Juvenilia, see papers by Mr. R. Edgcumbe, Mr. H. Buxton +Forman, C.B., and others, in the <i>Athenæum</i>, 1885, +vol. ii. pp. 731-733, 769; and 1886, vol. i. p. 101, etc. For a +collation of the contents of the four first issues and of certain +large-paper copies of <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, etc., see <i>The +Bibliography of the Poetical Works of Lord Byron</i>, <b>vol. vi. +of the present edition</b>.)<br> +<br> +<a name="section2a"><img src="images/BI1.gif" width="597" height="1024" +align="top" alt= +"facsimile of title page of 'Poems, Original and Translated'"><img + src="images/BI2.gif" width="642" height="992" align="top" alt= +"facsimile of title page of 'Hours of idleness'"></a><br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section3">Bibliographical Note to <i>English Bards +and Scotch Reviewers</i></a></h2> + +<br> +The MS. (<i>MS. M.</i>) of the first draft of Byron's +<i>Satire</i> (see Letter to Pigot, October 26, 1807) is now in +Mr. Murray's possession. It is written on folio sheets paged +6-25, 28-41, and numbers 360 lines. Mutilations on pages 12, 13, +34, 35 account for the absence of ten additional lines.<br> +<br> +After the publication of the January number of <i>The Edinburgh +Review</i> for 1808 (containing the critique on <i>Hours of +Idleness</i>), which was delayed till the end of February, Byron +added a beginning and an ending to the original draft. The MSS. +of these additions, which number ninety lines, are written on +quarto sheets, and have been bound up with the folios. (Lines +1-16 are missing.) The poem, which with these and other additions +had run up to 560 lines, was printed in book form (probably by +Ridge of Newark), under the title of <i>British Bards, A +Satire</i>. + +<blockquote>"This Poem," writes Byron [<i>MSS. M.</i>], "was +begun in October, 1807, in London, and at different intervals +composed from that period till September, 1808, when it was +completed at Newstead Abbey.--B., 1808."</blockquote> + +A date, 1808, is affixed to the last line. Only one copy is +extant, that which was purchased, in 1867, from the executors of +R.C. Dallas, by the Trustees of the British Museum. Even this +copy has been mutilated. Pages 17, 18, which must have contained +the first version of the attack on Jeffrey (see <i>English +Bards</i>, p. 332, line 439, <a href="#f578"><i>note</i> 2</a>), +have been torn out, and quarto proof-sheets in smaller type of +lines 438-527, "Hail to immortal Jeffrey," etc., together with a +quarto proof-sheet, in the same type as <i>British Bards</i>, +containing lines 540-559, "Illustrious Holland," etc., have been +inserted. Hobhouse's lines (first edition, lines 247-262), which +are not in the original draft, are included in <i>British +Bards</i>. The insertion of the proofs increased the printed +matter to 584 lines. After the completion of this revised version +of <i>British Bards</i>, additions continued to be made. Marginal +corrections and MS. fragments, bound up with <i>British +Bards</i>, together with forty-four lines (lines 723-726, +819-858) which do not occur in MS. M., make up with the printed +matter the 696 lines which were published in March, 1809, under +the title of <i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>. The +folio and quarto sheets in Mr. Murray's possession (<i>MS. +M.</i>) may be regarded as the MS. of <i>British Bards; British +Bards</i> (there are a few alterations, e.g. the substitution of +lines 319-326, "Moravians, arise," etc., for the eight lines on +Pratt, which are to be found in the folio MS., and are printed in +<i>British Bards</i>), with its accompanying MS. fragments, as +the foundation of the text of the first edition of <i>English +Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>.<br> +<br> +Between the first edition, published in March, and the second +edition in October, 1809, the difference is even greater than +between the first edition and <i>British Bards</i>. The Preface +was enlarged, and a postscript affixed to the text of the poem. +Hobhouse's lines (first edition, 247-262) were omitted, and the +following additional passages inserted, viz.: + +<ol type="i"> +<li>lines 1-96, "Still must I hear," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 129-142, "Thus saith the Preacher," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 363-417, "But if some new-born whim," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 638-706, "Or hail at once," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 765-798, "When some brisk youth," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 859-880, "And here let Shee," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 949-960, "Yet what avails," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 973-980, "There, Clarke," etc.;</li> + +<li>lines 1011-1070, "Then hapless Britain," etc.</li> +</ol> + +These additions number 370 lines, and, together with the 680 +lines of the first edition (reduced from 696 by the omission of +Hobhouse's contribution), make up the 1050 lines of the second +and third editions, and the doubtful fourth edition of 1810. Of +these additions, Nos. i., ii., iii., iv., vi., viii., ix. exist +in MS., and are bound up with the folio MS. now in Mr. Murray's +possession.<br> +<br> +The third edition, which is, generally, dated 1810, is a replica +of the second edition.<br> +<br> +The first issue of the fourth edition, which appeared in 1810, is +identical with the second and third editions. A second issue of +the fourth edition, dated 1811, must have passed under Byron's +own supervision. Lines 723, 724 are added, and lines 725, 726 are +materially altered. The fourth edition of 1811 numbers 1052 +lines.<br> +<br> +The suppressed fifth edition, numbering 1070 lines (the copy in +the British Museum has the title-page of the fourth edition; a +second copy, in Mr. Murray's possession, has no title-page), +varies from the fourth edition of 1811 by the addition of lines +97-102 and 528-539, and by some twenty-nine emendations of the +text. Eighteen of these emendations were made by Byron in a copy +of the fourth edition which belonged to Leigh Hunt. On another +copy, in Mr. Murray's possession, Byron made nine emendations, of +which six are identical with those in the Hunt copy, and three +appear for the first time. It was in the latter volume that he +inscribed his after-thoughts, which are dated "B. 1816."<br> +<br> +For a complete collation of the five editions of <i>English +Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>, and textual emendations in the +two annotated volumes, and for a note on genuine and spurious +copies of the first and other editions, see <i>The Bibliography +of the Poetical Works of Lord Byron</i>, <b>vol. vi</b>.<br> +<br> +<a name="section3a"><img src="images/BI3.gif" width="663" height="1015" +align="top" alt= +"facsimile of title page of 'English Bards', including Byron's signature"> +</a> + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section4"><i>Hours of Idleness</i> and Other Early +Poems</a></h2> + +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<h2><a name="section5">Fugitive Pieces</a></h2> + +<br> + + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<a name="section6"></a> +<br> +<h3>On Leaving Newstead Abbey<a href="#f1"></a><sup>a</sup></h3> + +<br> +<i>Why dost thou build the hall, Son of the winged days? <a name= +"fr2">Thou</a> lookest from thy tower to-day: yet a few years, +and the blast of the desart comes: it howls in thy empty +court.-<b>Ossian</b><a href="#f2"><sup>1</sup></a>.</i><br> +<br> +<blockquote><a name="fr3">I.</a><br> +<br> + Through thy battlements, Newstead<a href="#f3"><sup>2</sup></a>, +the hollow winds whistle<a href="#f4"><sup>b</sup></a>:<br> + <a name="fr4">Thou</a>, the hall of my Fathers, art gone to +decay;<br> + In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle<br> + Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd in the way.<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="fr5">2.</a><br> +<br> + Of the mail-cover'd Barons, who, proudly, to battle<a href= +"#f5"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain<a href= +"#f6"><sup>3</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr6">The</a> escutcheon and shield, which with ev'ry +blast rattle,<br> + Are the only sad vestiges now that remain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + No more doth old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers,<br> + <a name="fr7">Raise</a> a flame, in the breast, for the +war-laurell'd wreath;<br> + Near Askalon's towers, John of Horistan<a href= +"#f7"><sup>4</sup></a> slumbers,<br> + Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel, by death.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Paul and Hubert too sleep in the valley of Cressy;<br> + For the safety of Edward and England they fell:<br> + My Fathers! the tears of your country redress ye:<br> + How you fought! how you died! still her annals can tell.<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="fr8">5.</a><br> +<br> + <a name="fr9">On</a> Marston<a href="#f8"><sup>5</sup></a>, with +Rupert<a href="#f9"><sup>6</sup></a>, 'gainst traitors +contending,<br> + <a name="fr10">Four</a> brothers enrich'd, with their blood, the +bleak field;<br> + For the rights of a monarch their country defending<a href= +"#f10"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr11">Till</a> death their attachment to royalty +seal'd<a href="#f11"><sup>7</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr12">Shades</a> of heroes, farewell! your descendant +departing<br> + From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu<a href= +"#f12"><sup>e</sup></a>!<br> + Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting<br> + New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="fr13">7.</a><br> +<br> + Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation<a href= +"#f13"><sup>f</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr14">'Tis</a> nature, not fear, that excites his +regret<a href="#f14"><sup>g</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr15">Far</a> distant he goes, with the same +emulation,<br> + The fame of his Fathers he ne'er can forget<a href= +"#f15"><sup>h</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="fr16">8.</a><br> +<br> + That fame, and that memory, still will he cherish<a href= +"#f16"><sup>i</sup></a>;<br> + He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown:<br> + Like you will he live, or like you will he perish;<br> + When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own!<br> +<br> + 1803.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> + + +<table summary="s6 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f2"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr2">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý <i>On Leaving N ... ST ... +D.</i>--[4to],<br> + <i>On Leaving Newstead.</i>--(<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>)<br> +<a href="#section6">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f3"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý The priory of Newstead, or +de Novo Loco, in Sherwood, was founded about the year 1170, by +Henry II. On the dissolution of the monasteries it was granted +(in 1540) by Henry VIII. to "Sir John Byron the Little, with the +great beard." His portrait is still preserved at Newstead.<br> +<a href="#fr3">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f4"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Through the cracks in these battlements loud the +winds whistle<br> + For the hall of my fathers is gone to decay;<br> + And in yon once gay garden the hemlock and thistle<br> + Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd in the +way.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr4">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f6"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý No record of any crusading +ancestors in the Byron family can be found. Moore conjectures +that the legend was suggested by some groups of heads on the old +panel-work at Newstead, which appear to represent Christian +soldiers and Saracens, and were, most probably, put up before the +Abbey came into the possession of the family.<br> +<a href="#fr6">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f5"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Of the barons of old, who once proudly to +battle.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr5">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f7"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý Horistan Castle, in +<i>Derbyshire</i>, an ancient seat of the B--R--N family [4to]. +(Horiston.--4to.)<br> +<a href="#fr7">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f10"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>For Charles the Martyr their country +defending.</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr10">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f8"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý The battle of Marston +Moor, where the adherents of Charles I. were defeated.<br> +<a href="#fr8">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f12"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý <i>Bids ye adieu!</i> +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr12">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f9"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý Son of the Elector +Palatine, and related to Charles I. He afterwards commanded the +Fleet, in the reign of Charles II.<br> +<a href="#fr9">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f13"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý <i>Though a tear dims.</i> +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr13">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f11"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span> Ý Sir Nicholas Byron, the +great-grandson of Sir John Byron the Little, distinguished +himself in the Civil Wars. He is described by Clarendon (<i>Hist, +of the Rebellion</i>, 1807, i. 216) as "a person of great +affability and dexterity, as well as martial knowledge." He was +Governor of Carlisle, and afterwards Governor of Chester. His +nephew and heir-at-law, Sir John Byron, of Clayton, K.B. +(1599-1652), was raised to the peerage as Baron Byron of +Rochdale, after the Battle of Newbury, October 26, 1643. He held +successively the posts of Lieutenant of the Tower, Governor of +Chester, and, after the expulsion of the Royal Family from +England, Governor to the Duke of York. He died childless, and was +succeeded by his brother Richard, the second lord, from whom the +poet was descended. Five younger brothers, as Richard's monument +in the chancel of Hucknall Torkard Church records, "faithfully +served King Charles the First in the Civil Wars, suffered much +for their loyalty, and lost all their present fortunes." (See +<i>Life of Lord Byron</i>, by Karl Elze: Appendix, Note (A), p. +436.)<br> +<a href="#fr11">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f14"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>'Tis nature, not fear, which commands his +regret.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr14">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f15"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>In the grave he alone can his fathers +forget.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr15">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f16"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote i:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Your fame, and your memory, still will he +cherish.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr16">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<a name="section7"></a><h2>To E——<a href="#f17"> +<span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h2> + +<br> +<blockquote>Let Folly smile, to view the names<br> + Of thee and me, in Friendship twin'd;<br> + Yet Virtue will have greater claims<br> + To love, than rank with vice combin'd.<br> +<br> + And though unequal is <i>thy</i> fate,<br> + Since title deck'd my higher birth;<br> + Yet envy not this gaudy state,<br> + <i>Thine</i> is the pride of modest worth.<br> +<br> + Our <i>souls</i> at least congenial meet,<br> + Nor can <i>thy</i> lot <i>my</i> rank disgrace;<br> + Our intercourse is not less sweet,<br> + Since worth of rank supplies the place.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f17"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý E--- was, according to Moore, a boy of Byron's own +age, the son of one of the tenants at Newstead.<br> +<a href="#section7">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section8"></a>On the Death of a Young Lady<a href= +"#f18"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>, +Cousin to the Author, and very dear to Him</h2> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom,<br> + Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove,<br> + Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb,<br> + And scatter flowers on the dust I love.<br> +<br> +<br> +2.<br> +<br> + Within this narrow cell reclines her clay,<br> + That clay, where once such animation beam'd;<br> + The King of Terrors seiz'd her as his prey;<br> + Not worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd.<br> +<br> +<br> +3.<br> +<br> + Oh! could that King of Terrors pity feel,<br> + Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of fate,<br> + Not here the mourner would his grief reveal,<br> + Not here the Muse her virtues would relate.<br> +<br> +<br> +4.<br> +<br> + But wherefore weep? Her matchless spirit soars<br> + Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day;<br> + And weeping angels lead her to those bowers,<br> + Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds repay.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign!<br> + And, madly, Godlike Providence accuse!<br> + Ah! no, far fly from me attempts so vain;--<br> + I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.<br> +<br> +<br> +6.<br> +<br> + Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear,<br> + Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face;<br> + <a name="fr19">Still</a> they call forth my warm affection's +tear,<br> + Still in my heart retain their wonted place<a href= +"#f19"><sup>a</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1802.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s8 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f18"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý 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 fourteen), and +his first essay, he preferred submitting it to the indulgence of +his friends in its present state, to making either addition or +alteration.--[4to] + +<blockquote>"My first dash into poetry was as early as 1800. It +was the ebullition of a passion for--my first cousin, Margaret +Parker (daughter and granddaughter of the two Admirals Parker), +one of the most beautiful of evanescent beings. I have long +forgotten the verse; but it would be difficult for me to forget +her--her dark eyes--her long eye-lashes--her completely Greek +cast of face and figure! I was then about twelve--she rather +older, perhaps a year. She died about a year or two afterwards, +in consequence of a fall, which injured her spine, and induced +consumption ... I knew nothing of her illness, being at Harrow +and in the country till she was gone. Some years after, I made an +attempt at an elegy--a very dull one."--<br> +<br> +<i>Byron Diary</i>, 1821; <i>Life</i>, p. 17.</blockquote> + +[Margaret Parker was the sister of Sir Peter Parker, whose death +at Baltimore, in 1814, Byron celebrated in the <i>Elegiac +Stanzas</i>, which were first published in the poems attached to +the seventh edition of <i>Childe Harold</i>.<br> +<a href="#section8">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f19"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý <i>Such sorrow brings me +honour, not disgrace.</i> [4to]<br> + <a href="#fr19">return</a> </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section9"></a>To D——<a href="#f20"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h2> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + In thee, I fondly hop'd to clasp<br> + <a name="fr21">A</a> friend, whom death alone could sever;<br> + Till envy, with malignant grasp<a href= +"#f21"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + Detach'd thee from my breast for ever.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + True, she has forc'd thee from my <i>breast</i>,<br> + Yet, in my <i>heart</i>, thou keep'st thy seat<a href= +"#f22"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr22">There</a>, there, thine image still must +rest,<br> + Until that heart shall cease to beat.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + And, when the grave restores her dead,<br> + When life again to dust is given,<br> + On <i>thy dear</i> breast I'll lay my head--<br> + Without <i>thee! where</i> would be <i>my Heaven</i>?<br> +<br> +<br> +February, 1803</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s9 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f20"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý George John, 5th Earl +Delawarr (1791-1869).<br> + (See <a href="#f231">note</a>; see also lines <a href= +"#section56">To George, Earl Delawarr</a>)<br> +<br> + <a href="#section9">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f21"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But envy with malignant grasp,<br> + Has torn thee from my breast for ever.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr21">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f22"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý <i>But in my heart.</i> +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr22">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section10"></a>To Caroline<a href="#f23"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h2> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Think'st thou I saw thy beauteous eyes,<br> + Suffus'd in tears, implore to stay;<br> + <a name="fr24">And</a> heard <i>unmov'd</i> thy plenteous +sighs,<br> + Which said far more than words can say<a href= +"#f24"><sup>b</sup></a>?<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Though keen the grief <i>thy</i> tears exprest<a href= +"#f25"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr25">When</a> love and hope lay <i>both</i> +o'erthrown;<br> + Yet still, my girl, <i>this</i> bleeding breast<br> + Throbb'd, with deep sorrow, as <i>thine own</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + But, when our cheeks with anguish glow'd,<br> + When <i>thy</i> sweet lips were join'd to mine;<br> + The tears that from <i>my</i> eyelids flow'd<br> + Were lost in those which fell from <i>thine</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Thou could'st not feel my burning cheek,<br> + <i>Thy</i> gushing tears had quench'd its flame,<br> + And, as thy tongue essay'd to speak,<br> + In <i>sighs alone</i> it breath'd my name.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,<br> + In vain our fate in sighs deplore;<br> +Remembrance only can remain,<br> + But <i>that</i>, will make us weep the more.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Again, thou best belov'd, adieu!<br> + Ah! if thou canst, o'ercome regret,<br> +Nor let thy mind past joys review,<br> + Our only <i>hope</i> is, to <i>forget</i>!<br> +<br> + 1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f23"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span> Ý <i>To</i>——. [4to]<br> +<a href="#section10">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<a name="f24"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span> Ý<i>than words could say</i>. [4to]<br> +<a href="#fr24">return</a><br> +<br> +<a name="f25"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span> Ý <i>Though deep the grief</i>. [4to]<br> +<a href="#fr25">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section11"></a>To Caroline<a href="#f26"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + You say you love, and yet your eye<br> + No symptom of that love conveys,<br> + You say you love, yet know not why,<br> + Your cheek no sign of love betrays.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Ah! did that breast with ardour glow,<br> + With me alone it joy could know,<br> + Or feel with me the listless woe,<br> + Which racks my heart when far from thee.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Whene'er we meet my blushes rise,<br> + And mantle through my purpled cheek,<br> + But yet no blush to mine replies,<br> + Nor e'en your eyes your love bespeak.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Your voice alone declares your flame,<br> + And though so sweet it breathes my name,<br> + Our passions still are not the same;<br> + Alas! you cannot love like me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + For e'en your lip seems steep'd in snow,<br> + And though so oft it meets my kiss,<br> + It burns with no responsive glow,<br> + Nor melts like mine in dewy bliss.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Ah! what are words to love like <i>mine</i>,<br> + Though uttered by a voice like thine,<br> + I still in murmurs must repine,<br> + And think that love can ne'er be <i>true</i>,<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Which meets me with no joyous sign,<br> + Without a sigh which bids adieu;<br> + How different is my love from thine,<br> + How keen my grief when leaving you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Your image fills my anxious breast,<br> + Till day declines adown the West,<br> + And when at night, I sink to rest,<br> + In dreams your fancied form I view.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + 'Tis then your breast, no longer cold,<br> + With equal ardour seems to burn,<br> + While close your arms around me fold,<br> + Your lips my kiss with warmth return.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + Ah! would these joyous moments last;<br> + Vain <b>Hope</b>! the gay delusion's past,<br> + That voice!--ah! no, 'tis but the blast,<br> + Which echoes through the neighbouring grove.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + But when <i>awake</i>, your lips I seek,<br> + And clasp enraptur'd all your charms,<br> + So chill's the pressure of your cheek,<br> + I fold a statue in my arms.<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + If thus, when to my heart embrac'd,<br> + No pleasure in your eyes is trac'd,<br> + You may be prudent, fair, and <i>chaste</i>,<br> + But ah! my girl, you <i>do not love</i>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f26"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý These lines, which appear in the Quarto, were never +republished.<br> +<a href="#section11">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section11b"></a>To Emma<a href="#f27"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Since now the hour is come at last,<br> + When you must quit your anxious lover;<br> + Since now, our dream of bliss is past,<br> + One pang, my girl, and all is over.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Alas! that pang will be severe,<br> + Which bids us part to meet no more;<br> + Which tears me far from <i>one</i> so dear,<br> + <i>Departing</i> for a distant shore.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Well! we have pass'd some happy hours,<br> + And joy will mingle with our tears;<br> + When thinking on these ancient towers,<br> + The shelter of our infant years;<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Where from this Gothic casement's height,<br> + We view'd the lake, the park, the dell,<br> + And still, though tears obstruct our sight,<br> + We lingering look a last farewell,<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + O'er fields through which we us'd to run,<br> + And spend the hours in childish play;<br> + O'er shades where, when our race was done,<br> + Reposing on my breast you lay;<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,<br> + Forgot to scare the hovering flies,<br> + Yet envied every fly the kiss,<br> + It dar'd to give your slumbering eyes:<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + See still the little painted <i>bark</i>,<br> + In which I row'd you o'er the lake;<br> + See there, high waving o'er the park,<br> + The <i>elm</i> I clamber'd for your sake.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + These times are past, our joys are gone,<br> + You leave me, leave this happy vale;<br> + These scenes, I must retrace alone;<br> + Without thee, what will they avail?<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Who can conceive, who has not prov'd,<br> + The anguish of a last embrace?<br> + When, torn from all you fondly lov'd,<br> + You bid a long adieu to peace.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + <i>This</i> is the deepest of our woes,<br> + For <i>this</i> these tears our cheeks bedew;<br> + This is of love the final close,<br> + Oh, God! the fondest, <i>last</i> adieu!</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f27"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý To Maria [4to]<br> +<a href="#section11b">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section12">Fragments of School Exercises: From the +<i>Prometheus Vinctus</i> of Æschylus</a></h3> + +<br> +<a href="#f28"><img src="images/BG1.gif" width="225" height="23" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Maedam o panta nem_on, K.T.L"></a><br> +<br> +<blockquote>Great Jove! to whose Almighty Throne<br> + Both Gods and mortals homage pay,<br> + Ne'er may my soul thy power disown,<br> + Thy dread behests ne'er disobey.<br> + Oft shall the sacred victim fall,<br> + In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall;<br> + My voice shall raise no impious strain,<br> + 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main.<br> +<br> + ...<br> +<br> + How different now thy joyless fate,<br> + Since first Hesione thy bride,<br> + When plac'd aloft in godlike state,<br> + The blushing beauty by thy side,<br> + Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smil'd,<br> + And mirthful strains the hours beguil'd;<br> + <a name="fr29">The</a> Nymphs and Tritons danc'd around,<br> + Nor yet thy doom was fix'd, nor Jove relentless frown'd<a href= +"#f29"><sup>2</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +Harrow, December 1, 1804.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f28"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý The Greek heading does not appear in the Quarto, nor +in the three first Editions.<br> +<a href="#section12">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<a name="f29"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"My first Harrow verses (that is, English, as +exercises), a translation of a chorus from the <i>Prometheus</i> +of Æschylus, were received by Dr. Drury, my grand patron +(our headmaster), but coolly. No one had, at that time, the least +notion that I should subside into poetry."</blockquote> + +(<i>Life</i>, p. 20.) <br> +The lines are not a translation but a loose adaptation or +paraphrase of part of a chorus of the <i>Prometheus Vinctus</i>, +I, 528, <i>sq.</i><br> +<a href="#fr29">return</a><br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section13"></a>Lines written in "Letters of an Italian +Nun and an English Gentleman, by J.J. Rousseau<a href= +"#f30"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>: +Founded on Facts"</h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>"Away, away,--your flattering arts<br> + May now betray some simpler hearts;<br> + And <i>you</i> will <i>smile</i> at their believing,<br> + And <i>they</i> shall <i>weep</i> at your +deceiving."</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f30"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý A second edition of this work, of which the title is, +<i>Letters, etc., translated from the French of Jean Jacques +Rousseau</i>, was published in London, in 1784. It is, probably, +a literary forgery.<br> +<a href="#section13">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section14"></a>Answer to the Foregoing<a href= +"#f31"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a>, +Addressed to Miss——</h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Dear simple girl, those flattering arts,<br> + (From which thou'dst guard frail female hearts,)<a href= +"#f32"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr32">Exist</a> but in imagination,<br> + Mere phantoms of thine own creation<a href= +"#f33"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr33">For</a> he who views that witching grace,<br> + That perfect form, that lovely face,<br> + With eyes admiring, oh! believe me,<br> + He never wishes to deceive thee:<br> + Once in thy polish'd mirror glance<a href= +"#f34"><sup>d</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr34">Thou'lt</a> there descry that elegance<br> + Which from our sex demands such praises,<br> + But envy in the other raises.--<br> + Then he who tells thee of thy beauty<a href= +"#f35"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr35">Believe</a> me, only does his duty:<br> + <a name="fr36">Ah!</a> fly not from the candid youth;<br> + It is not flattery, — 'tis truth<a href= +"#f36"><sup>f</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +July, 1804.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f31"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Answer to the above.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#section14">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f32"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>From which you'd.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr32">return</a><br> +<br> + <br> +<a name="f33"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Mere phantoms of your own creation;<br> + For he who sees.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr33">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f34"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Once let you at your mirror glance<br> + You'll there descry that elegance,</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr34">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f35"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +e:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Then he who tells you of your +beauty.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr35">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f36"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +f:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>It is not flattery, but truth.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr36">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section15"></a>On a Change of Masters at a Great Public +School<a href="#f37"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Where are those honours, <b>Ida</b>! once your +own,<br> + When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne?<br> + As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace,<br> + Hail'd a Barbarian in her Cæsar's place,<br> + So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate,<br> + And seat <i>Pomposus</i> where your <i>Probus</i> sate.<br> + Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul<a href= +"#f38"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr38">Pomposus</a> holds you in his harsh controul;<br> + Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd,<br> + With florid jargon, and with vain parade;<br> + With noisy nonsense, and new-fangled rules,<br> + (Such as were ne'er before enforc'd in schools.)<a href= +"#f39"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr39">Mistaking</a> <i>pedantry</i> for +<i>learning's</i> laws,<br> + He governs, sanction'd but by self-applause;<br> + With him the same dire fate, attending Rome,<br> + Ill-fated Ida! soon must stamp your doom:<br> + Like her o'erthrown, for ever lost to fame,<br> + No trace of science left you, but the name,<br> +<br> + <b>Harrow</b>, July, 1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s15 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f37"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý In March, 1805, Dr. Drury, +the Probus of the piece, retired from the Head-mastership of +Harrow School, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler, the Pomposus. + +<blockquote>"Dr. Drury," said Byron, in one of his note-books, +"was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever +had; and I look upon him still as a father."</blockquote> + +Out of affection to his late preceptor, Byron advocated the +election of Mark Drury to the vacant post, and hence his dislike +of the successful candidate. He was reconciled to Dr. Butler +before departing for Greece, in 1809, and in his diary he says, + +<blockquote>"I treated him rebelliously, and have been sorry ever +since."</blockquote> + +(See allusions in and notes to <i>Childish Recollections</i>, pp. +84-106, and especially note I, p. 88, notes I and 2, p. 89, and +note I, p. 91.)<br> +<a href="#section15">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f38"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>——but of a narrower +soul.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr38">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f39"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Such as were ne'er before beheld in +schools.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr39">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section16"></a>Epitaph on a Beloved Friend<a href= +"#f40"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<img src="images/BG2.gif" width="307" height="19" alt= +"Greek(transliterated): Astaer prin men elampes eni tsuoisin hepsos."> +<br> +<br> +[Plato's Epitaph (<i>Epig. Græc.,</i> Jacobs, 1826, p. +309), quoted by Diog. Laertins.]<br> +<br> +<blockquote>Oh, Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear<a href= +"#f41"><sup>a</sup></a>!<br> + <a name="fr41">What</a> fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd +bier!<br> + What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,<br> + Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!<br> + Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;<br> + Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;<br> + Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,<br> + Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;<br> + Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight,<br> + Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight.<br> + If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh<br> + The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,<br> + Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,<br> + A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art.<br> + No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,<br> + But living statues there are seen to weep;<br> + Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb,<br> + Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.<br> + What though thy sire lament his failing line,<br> + A father's sorrows cannot equal mine!<br> + Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,<br> + Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:<br> + But, who with me shall hold thy former place?<br> + Thine image, what new friendship can efface?<br> + Ah, none!--a father's tears will cease to flow,<br> + Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;<br> + To all, save one, is consolation known,<br> + While solitary Friendship sighs alone.<br> +<br> +Harrow, 1803</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s16 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f40"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The heading which appears +in the Quarto and <i>P. on V. Occasions</i> was subsequently +changed to <i>Epitaph on a Friend</i>. The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>. The epigram which Bergk leaves under +Plato's name was translated by Shelley (<i>Poems</i>, 1895, iii. +361) + +<blockquote>"Thou wert the morning star<br> + Among the living,<br> + Ere thy fair light had fled;<br> + Now having died, thou art as<br> + Hesperus, giving<br> + New splendour to the dead."</blockquote> + +There is an echo of the Greek distich in Byron's exquisite line, +"The Morning-Star of Memory."<br> +<br> +The words, "Southwell, March 17," are added, in a lady's hand, on +p. 9 of the annotated copy of <i>P. on V. Occasions</i> in the +British Museum. The conjecture that the "<i>beloved</i> friend," +who is of humble origin, is identical with "E----" of the verses +on p. 4, remains uncertain.<br> +<a href="#section16">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f41"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Oh Boy! for ever lov'd, for ever dear!<br> + What fruitless tears have wash'd thy honour'd bier<a href= +"#f42"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr42">What</a> sighs re-echoed to thy parting +breath,<br> + Whilst thou wert struggling in the pangs of death.<br> + Could tears have turn'd the tyrant in his course,<br> + Could sighs have checked his dart's relentless force<a href= +"#f43"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr43">Could</a> youth and virtue claim a short +delay,<br> + Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey,<br> + Thou still had'st liv'd to bless my aching sight,<br> + Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight:<br> + Though low thy lot since in a cottage born,<br> + No titles did thy humble name adorn,<br> + To me, far dearer, was thy artless love,<br> + Than all the joys, wealth, fame, and friends could prove.<br> + For thee alone I liv'd, or wish'd to live,<br> + (Oh God! if impious, this rash word forgive,)<br> + Heart-broken now, I wait an equal doom,<br> + Content to join thee in thy turf-clad tomb;<br> + Where this frail form compos'd in endless rest,<br> + I'll make my last, cold, pillow on thy breast;<br> + That breast where oft in life, I've laid my head,<br> + Will yet receive me mouldering with the dead;<br> + This life resign'd, without one parting sigh,<br> + Together in one bed of earth we'll lie!<br> + Together share the fate to mortals given,<br> + Together mix our dust, and hope for Heaven.</i></blockquote> + +Harrow, 1803. [4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr41">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f42"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>have bath'd thy honoured bier.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr42">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f43"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý <i>Could tears retard,</i> +Ý[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>] <i>Could sighs avert.</i> Ý[<i>P. +on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr43">return</a> </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section17">Adrian's Address to his Soul when +Dying</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Animula! vagula, Blandula,<br> + Hospes, comesque corporis,<br> + Quæ nunc abibis in Loca--<br> + Pallidula, rigida, nudula,<br> + Nec, ut soles, dabis Jocos?</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<b>Translation:</b><br> + + +<blockquote>Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring Sprite,<br> + Friend and associate of this clay!<br> + To what unknown region borne,<br> + Wilt thou, now, wing thy distant flight?<br> + No more with wonted humour gay,<br> + But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.<br> +<br> + 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section18"></a>A Fragment<a href="#f44"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>When, to their airy hall, my Fathers' voice<br> + Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;<br> + When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride,<br> + Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;<br> + Oh! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns,<br> + <a name="fr45">To</a> mark the spot where earth to earth +returns!<br> + <a name="fr46">No</a> lengthen'd scroll, no praise-encumber'd +stone<a href="#f45"><sup>a</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr47">My</a> <i>epitaph</i> shall be my name alone<a +href="#f46"><sup>2</sup></a>:<br> + If <i>that</i> with honour fail to crown my clay<a href= +"#f47"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + Oh! may no other fame my deeds repay!<br> + <a name="fr48"><i>That</i></a>, only <i>that</i>, shall single +out the spot;<br> + By that remember'd, or with that forgot<a href= +"#f48"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +1803</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s18 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f44"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý There is no heading in the +Quarto.<br> + <a href="#section18">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f45"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>No lengthen'd scroll of virtue and +renown.</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occ.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr45">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f46"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý In his will, drawn up in +1811, Byron gave directions that "no inscription, save his name +and age, should be written on his tomb." June, 1819, he wrote to +Murray: + +<blockquote>"Some of the epitaphs at the Certosa cemetery, at +Ferrara, pleased me more than the more splendid monuments at +Bologna; for instance,<br> +'Martini Luigi Implora pace.'<br> +Can anything be more full of pathos? I hope whoever may survive +me will see those two words, and no more, put over +me."</blockquote> + +<i>Life</i>, pp. 131, 398.<br> +<a href="#fr46">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f47"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>If that with honour fails</i>,</blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr47">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f48"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But that remember'd, or fore'er +forgot</i>.</blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr48">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section19"></a>To Caroline<a href="#f49"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Oh! when shall the grave hide for ever my sorrow?<br> + Oh! when shall my soul wing her flight from this clay?<br> + The present is hell! and the coming to-morrow<br> + But brings, with new torture, the curse of to-day.<br> +<br> +<br> +2.<br> +<br> + From my eye flows no tear, from my lips flow no curses<a href= +"#f50"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr50">I</a> blast not the fiends who have hurl'd me +from bliss;<br> + For poor is the soul which, bewailing, rehearses<br> + Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this--<br> +<br> +<br> +3.<br> +<br> + Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes +bright'ning,<br> + Would my lips breathe a flame which no stream could assuage,<br> + On our foes should my glance launch in vengeance its +lightning,<br> + With transport my tongue give a loose to its rage.<br> +<br> +<br> +4.<br> +<br> + But now tears and curses, alike unavailing,<br> + Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight;<br> + Could they view us our sad separation bewailing,<br> + Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + Yet, still, though we bend with a feign'd resignation,<br> + Life beams not for us with one ray that can cheer;<br> + Love and Hope upon earth bring no more consolation,<br> + In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear.<br> +<br> +<br> +6.<br> +<br> + Oh! when, my ador'd, in the tomb will they place me,<br> + Since, in life, love and friendship for ever are fled?<br> + If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee,<br> + Perhaps they will leave unmolested--the dead.<br> +<br> +1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s19 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f49"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> ÝTo—— [4to].<br> + <a href="#section19">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f50"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý <i>fall no curses</i>. +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>.]<br> + <a href="#fr50">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section20"></a>To Caroline<a href="#f51"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + When I hear you express an affection so warm,<br> + Ne'er think, my belov'd, that I do not believe;<br> + For your lip would the soul of suspicion disarm,<br> + And your eye beams a ray which can never deceive.<br> +<br> +<br> +2.<br> +<br> + Yet still, this fond bosom regrets, while adoring,<br> + That love, like the leaf, must fall into the sear,<br> + That Age will come on, when Remembrance, deploring,<br> + Contemplates the scenes of her youth, with a tear;<br> +<br> +<br> +3.<br> +<br> + That the time must arrive, when, no longer retaining<br> + Their auburn, those locks must wave thin to the breeze,<br> + When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining,<br> + Prove nature a prey to decay and disease.<br> +<br> +<br> +4.<br> +<br> + Tis this, my belov'd, which spreads gloom o'er my features,<br> + Though I ne'er shall presume to arraign the decree<br> + <a name="fr52">Which</a> God has proclaim'd as the fate of his +creatures,<br> + In the death which one day will deprive you of me<a href= +"#f52"><sup>a</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + Mistake not, sweet sceptic, the cause of emotion<a href= +"#f53"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr53">No</a> doubt can the mind of your lover +invade;<br> + He worships each look with such faithful devotion,<br> + A smile can enchant, or a tear can dissuade.<br> +<br> +<br> +6.<br> +<br> + But as death, my belov'd, soon or late shall o'ertake us,<br> + And our breasts, which alive with such sympathy glow,<br> + Will sleep in the grave, till the blast shall awake us,<br> + When calling the dead, in Earth's bosom laid low.<br> +<br> +<br> +7.<br> +<br> + Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure,<br> + Which from passion, like ours, must unceasingly flow<a href= +"#f54"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr54">Let</a> us pass round the cup of Love's bliss in +full measure,<br> + And quaff the contents as our nectar below.<br> +<br> +<br> +1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s20 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f51"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý There is no heading in the +Quarto.<br> + <a href="#section20">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f52"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<i>will deprive me of +thee</i>. Ý[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr52">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f53"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>No jargon of priests o'er our union was +mutter'd,<br> + To rivet the fetters of husband and wife;<br> + By our lips, by our hearts, were our vows alone utter'd,<br> + To perform them, in full, would ask more than a +life</i>.</blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr53">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f54"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý <i>will unceasingly +flow.</i> Ý[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr54">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section21">On a Distant View of the Village and +School of Harrow on the Hill, 1806</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter +annos<a href="#f55"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr55">Virgil</a>.</i><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + Ye scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollection<br> + Embitters the present, compar'd with the past;<br> + <a name="fr56">Where</a> science first dawn'd on the powers of +reflection,<br> + And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last<a href= +"#f56"><sup>2</sup></a>;<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr57">Where</a> fancy, yet, joys to retrace the +resemblance<br> + Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied<a href= +"#f57"><sup>3</sup></a>;<br> + How welcome to me your ne'er fading remembrance<a href= +"#f58"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr58">Which</a> rests in the bosom, though hope is +deny'd!<br> +<br> +<br> +3.<br> +<br> + Again I revisit the hills where we sported,<br> + The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought<a +href="#f59"><sup>4</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr59">The</a> school where, loud warn'd by the bell, we +resorted,<br> + To pore o'er the precepts by Pedagogues taught.<br> +<br> +<br> +4.<br> +<br> + Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd,<br> + As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone<a href= +"#f60"><sup>5</sup></a> I lay;<br> + <a name="fr60">Or</a> round the steep brow of the churchyard I +wander'd,<br> + To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded,<br> + Where, as Zanga<a href="#f61"><sup>6</sup></a>, I trod on Alonzo +o'erthrown;<br> + <a name="fr61">While</a>, to swell my young pride, such +applauses resounded,<br> + <a name="fr62">I</a> fancied that Mossop<a href= +"#f62"><sup>7</sup></a> himself was outshone.<br> +<br> +<br> +6.<br> +<br> + Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep imprecation,<br> + By my daughters, of kingdom and reason depriv'd;<br> + <a name="fr63">Till</a>, fir'd by loud plaudits and +self-adulation,<br> + I regarded myself as a <i>Garrick</i> reviv'd<a href= +"#f63"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +7.<br> +<br> + Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you!<br> + Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast<a href= +"#f64"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr64">Though</a> sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget +you:<br> + Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest.<br> +<br> +<br> +8.<br> +<br> + To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me<a href= +"#f65"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr65">While</a> Fate shall the shades of the future +unroll!<br> + Since Darkness o'ershadows the prospect before me,<br> + More dear is the beam of the past to my soul!<br> +<br> +<br> +9.<br> +<br> + But if, through the course of the years which await me,<br> + Some new scene of pleasure should open to view,<br> + <a name="fr66">I</a> will say, while with rapture the thought +shall elate me,<br> + "Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew."<a href= +"#f66"><sup>8</sup></a><br> +<br> +1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="s21 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f55"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr55">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f58"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>How welcome once more.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr58">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f56"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"My school-friendships were with me <i>passions</i> +(for I was always violent), but I do not know that there is one +which has endured (to be sure, some have been cut short by death) +till now."</blockquote> + +<i>Diary</i>, 1821; <i>Life</i>, p. 21.<br> +<a href="#fr56">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f63"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>I consider'd myself.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr63">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f57"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Byron was at first placed +in the house of Mr. Henry Drury, but in 1803 was removed to that +of Mr. Evans. + +<blockquote>"The reason why Lord Byron wishes for the change, +arises from the repeated complaints of Mr. Henry Drury respecting +his inattention to business, and his propensity to make others +laugh and disregard their employment as much as +himself."</blockquote> + +(Dr. Joseph Drury to Mr. John Hanson.)<br> +<a href="#fr57">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f64"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>As your memory beams through this agonized +breast;<br> + Thus sad and deserted, I n'er can forget you,<br> + Though this heart throbs to bursting by anguish +possest.</i></blockquote> + +[4to] + +<blockquote><i>Your memory beams through this agonized +breast.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr64">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f59"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"At Harrow I fought my way very fairly. I think I +lost but one battle out of seven."</blockquote> + +<i>Diary</i>, 1821; <i>Life</i>, p. 21.<br> +<a href="#fr59">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f65"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>I thought this poor brain, fever'd even to +madness,<br> + Of tears as of reason for ever was drain'd;<br> + But the drops which now flow down <b>this</b> bosom of +sadness,<br> + Convince me the springs have some moisture retain'd.<br> +<br> + Sweet scenes of my childhood! your blest recollection,<br> + Has wrung from these eyelids, to weeping long dead,<br> + In torrents, the tears of my warmest affection,<br> + The last and the fondest, I ever shall shed</i>.</blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr65">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f60"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> ÝA tomb in the churchyard at +Harrow was so well known to be his favourite resting-place, that +the boys called it "Byron's Tomb:" and here, they say, he used to +sit for hours, wrapt up in thought.--<i>Life</i>, p. 26.<br> +<a href="#fr60">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f61"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý For the display of his +declamatory powers, on the speech-days, he selected always the +most vehement passages; such as the speech of Zanga over the body +of Alonzo, and Lear's address to the storm.--<i>Life</i>, p. 20, +<i>note</i>; and <i>post</i>, p. 103, <i>var</i>. i.<br> +<a href="#fr61">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f62"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span> Ý Henry Mossop (1729-1773), +a contemporary of Garrick, famous for his performance of "Zanga" +in Young's tragedy of <i>The Revenge</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr62">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f66"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span> Ý Stanzas 8 and 9 first +appeared in <i>Hours of Idleness</i>.</td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section22">Thoughts Suggested by a College +Examination</a></h3> + +<br> +<table summary="exam poem" border="0" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="fr67">High</a> in the midst, surrounded +by his peers,<br> +Magnus<a href="#f67"><sup>1</sup></a> his ample front sublime +uprears<a href="#f68"><sup>a</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr68">Plac'd</a> on his chair of state, he seems a +God,<br> +<a name="fr69">While</a> Sophs<a href="#f69"><sup>2</sup></a> and +Freshmen tremble at his nod;<br> +<a name="fr70">As</a> all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom<a +href="#f70"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> +<i>His</i> voice, in thunder, shakes the sounding dome;<br> +Denouncing dire reproach to luckless fools,<br> +Unskill'd to plod in mathematic rules.<br> + Happy the youth! in Euclid's axioms tried,<br> +Though little vers'd in any art beside;<br> +Who, scarcely skill'd an English line to pen<a href= +"#f71"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr71">Scans</a> Attic metres with a critic's ken.<br> +What! though he knows not how his fathers bled,<br> +When civil discord pil'd the fields with dead,<br> +When Edward bade his conquering bands advance,<br> +Or Henry trampled on the crest of France:<br> +Though marvelling at the name of <i>Magna Charta</i>,<br> +Yet well he recollects the <i>laws</i> of <i>Sparta</i>;<br> +Can tell, what edicts sage <i>Lycurgus</i> made,<br> +While <i>Blackstone's</i> on the <i>shelf</i>, <i>neglected</i> +laid;<br> +Of <i>Grecian dramas</i> vaunts the deathless fame,<br> +Of <i>Avon's bard</i>, rememb'ring scarce the name.<br> +Such is the youth whose scientific pate<br> +Class-honours, medals, fellowships, await;<br> +Or even, perhaps, the <i>declamation</i> prize,<br> +If to such glorious height, he lifts his eyes.<br> +But lo! no <i>common</i> orator can hope<br> +The envied silver cup within his scope:<br> +Not that our <i>heads</i> much eloquence require,<br> +Th' <b>Athenian's</b><a href="#f72"><sup>3</sup></a> glowing +style, or <b>Tully's</b> fire.<br> +<a name="fr72">A</a> <i>manner</i> clear or warm is useless, +since<a href="#f73"><sup>d</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr73">We</a> do not try by <i>speaking</i> to +<i>convince</i>;<br> +Be other <i>orators</i> of pleasing <i>proud</i>,--<br> +We speak to <i>please</i> ourselves, not <i>move</i> the +crowd:<br> +Our gravity prefers the <i>muttering</i> tone,<br> +A proper mixture of the <i>squeak</i> and <i>groan</i>:<br> +No borrow'd <i>grace</i> of <i>action</i> must be seen,<br> +The slightest motion would displease the <i>Dean</i>;<br> +Whilst every staring Graduate would prate,<br> +Against what--<i>he</i> could never imitate.<br> +The man, who hopes t' obtain the promis'd cup,<br> +Must in one <i>posture</i> stand, and <i>ne'er look up</i>;<br> +Nor <i>stop</i>, but rattle over <i>every</i> word--<br> +No matter <i>what</i>, so it can <i>not</i> be heard:<br> +Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest:<br> +Who speaks the <i>fastest's</i> sure to speak the +<i>best</i>;<br> +Who utters most within the shortest space,<br> +May, safely, hope to win the <i>wordy race</i>.<br> +The Sons of <i>Science</i> these, who, thus repaid,<br> +Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade;<br> +Where on Cam's sedgy banks, supine, they lie,<br> +Unknown, unhonour'd live--unwept for die:<br> +Dull as the pictures, which adorn their halls,<br> +They think all learning fix'd within their walls:<br> +In manners rude, in foolish forms precise,<br> +<a name="fr74">All</a> modern arts affecting to despise;<br> +Yet prizing <i>Bentley's, Brunck's</i>, or <i>Porson's</i><a +href="#f74"><sup>4</sup></a> note<a href= +"#f75"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr75">More</a> than the <i>verse on which the critic +wrote</i>:<br> +Vain as their honours, heavy as their Ale<a href= +"#f76"><sup>5</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr76">Sad</a> as their wit, and tedious as their +tale;<br> +To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel,<br> +<a name="fr77">When</a> Self and Church demand a Bigot zeal.<br> +With eager haste they court the lord of power<a href= +"#f77"><sup>f</sup></a>,<br> +(Whether 'tis <b>Pitt</b> or <b>Petty</b><a href= +"#f78"><sup>6</sup></a> rules the hour;)<br> +<a name="fr78">To</a> <i>him</i>, with suppliant smiles, they +bend the head,<br> +While distant mitres to their eyes are spread<a href= +"#f79"><sup>g</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr79">But</a> should a storm o'erwhelm him with +disgrace,<br> +They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place.<br> +<i>Such</i> are the men who learning's treasures guard!<br> +<i>Such</i> is their <i>practice</i>, such is their +<i>reward</i>!<br> +<a name="fr80">This</a> <i>much</i>, at least, we may presume to +say--<br> +The premium can't exceed the <i>price</i> they <i>pay</i><a href= +"#f80"><sup>h</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + 1806.</td> +<td width="50%"><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="exam poem footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f67"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>No reflection is here intended against the person +mentioned under the name of Magnus. He is merely represented as +performing an unavoidable function of his office. Indeed, such an +attempt could only recoil upon myself; as that gentleman is now +as much distinguished by his eloquence, and the dignified +propriety with which he fills his situation, as he was in his +younger days for wit and conviviality.</blockquote> + +[Dr. William Lort Mansel (1753-1820) was, in 1798, appointed +Master of Trinity College, by Pitt. He obtained the bishopric of +Bristol, through the influence of his pupil, Spencer Perceval, in +1808. He died in 1820.<br> +<a href="#fr67">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f68"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>M--us--l.--</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr68">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f69"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý Undergraduates of the +second and third year.<br> + <a href="#fr69">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f70"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Whilst all around.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr70">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f72"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Demosthenes.<br> + <a href="#fr72">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f71"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Who with scarse sense to pen an English +letter,<br> + Yet with precision scans an Attis metre.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr71">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f74"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý The present Greek +professor at Trinity College, Cambridge; a man whose powers of +mind and writings may, perhaps, justify their preference. +[Richard Porson (1759-1808). For Byron's description of him, see +letter to Murray, of February 20, 1818. Byron says (<i>Diary</i>, +December 17, 18, 1813) that he wrote the <i>Devil's Drive</i> in +imitation of Porson's <i>Devil's Walk</i>. This was a common +misapprehension at the time. The <i>Devil's Thoughts</i> was the +joint composition of Coleridge and Southey, but it was generally +attributed to Porson, who took no trouble to disclaim it. It was +originally published in the <i>Morning Post</i>, Sept. 6, 1799, +and Stuart, the editor, said that it raised the circulation of +the paper for several days after. (See Coleridge's <i>Poems</i> +(1893), pp. 147, 621.)]<br> +<a href="#fr74">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f73"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The manner of the speech is nothing, +since</i>,</blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P, on V. Occasions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr73">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f76"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý Lines 59-62 are not in the +Quarto. They first appeared in <i>Poems Original and +Translated</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr76">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f75"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Celebrated critics</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>Three first Editions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr75">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f78"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý Since this was written, +Lord Henry Petty has lost his place, and subsequently (I had +almost said consequently) the honour of representing the +University. A fact so glaring requires no comment.<br> +(Lord Henry Petty, M.P. for the University of Cambridge, was +Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1805; but in 1807 he lost his +seat. In 1809 he succeeded his brother as Marquis of Lansdowne. +He died in 1863.)<br> +<a href="#fr78">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f77"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>They court the tool of power</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr77">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f79"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý<i>While mitres, +prebends</i>.--[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr79">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f80"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>The <i>reward's</i> scarce equal to the <i>price</i> +they pay.</blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr80">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section23"></a>To Mary, on Receiving Her Picture<a href= +"#f81"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + This faint resemblance of thy charms,<br> + (Though strong as mortal art could give,)<br> + My constant heart of fear disarms,<br> + Revives my hopes, and bids me live.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Here, I can trace the locks of gold<br> + Which round thy snowy forehead wave;<br> + The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould,<br> + The lips, which made me <i>Beauty's</i> slave.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Here I can trace--ah, no! that eye,<br> + Whose azure floats in liquid fire,<br> + Must all the painter's art defy,<br> + And bid him from the task retire.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Here, I behold its beauteous hue;<br> + But where's the beam so sweetly straying<a href= +"#f82"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr82">Which</a> gave a lustre to its blue,<br> + Like Luna o'er the ocean playing?<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> + Sweet copy! far more dear to me,<br> + Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art,<br> + Than all the living forms could be,<br> + Save her who plac'd thee next my heart.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + She plac'd it, sad, with needless fear,<br> + Lest time might shake my wavering soul,<br> + Unconscious that her image there<br> + Held every sense in fast controul.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Thro' hours, thro' years, thro' time,'twill cheer--<br> + My hope, in gloomy moments, raise;<br> + In life's last conflict 'twill appear,<br> + And meet my fond, expiring gaze.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Mary footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f81"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý This "Mary" is not to be +confounded with the heiress of Annesley, or "Mary" of Aberdeen. +She was of humble station in life. Byron used to show a lock of +her light golden hair, as well as her picture, among his friends. +(See <i>Life</i>, p. 41, <i>note</i>.)<br> +<a href="#section23">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f82"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But Where's the beam of soft desire?<br> + Which gave a lustre to its blue,<br> + Love, only love, could e'er inspire.--</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V, Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr82">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section24"></a>On the Death of Mr. Fox<a href= +"#f86"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b>the following illiberal impromptu appeared in the <i>Morning +Post</i>:</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>"Our Nation's foes lament on <i>Fox's</i> death,<br> + But bless the hour, when <b>Pitt</b> resign'd his breath:<br> + These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue,<br> + We give the palm, where Justice points its due."</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<b><a name="fr83">to</a> which the author of these pieces sent +the following reply<a href="#f83"><sup>a</sup></a> for insertion +in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>Oh, factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth<br> + Would mangle, still, the dead, perverting truth<a href= +"#f84"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr84">What</a>, though our "nation's foes" lament the +fate,<br> + With generous feeling, of the good and great;<br> + Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name<a href= +"#f85"><sup>c</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr85">Of</a> him, whose meed exists in endless +fame?<br> + When <b>Pitt</b> expir'd in plenitude of power,<br> + Though ill success obscur'd his dying hour,<br> +Pity her dewy wings before him spread,<br> + For noble spirits "war not with the dead:"<br> + <a name="fr87">His</a> friends in tears, a last sad requiem +gave,<br> + As all his errors slumber'd in the grave<a href= +"#f87"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> + He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight"<a href= +"#f88"><sup>e</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr88">Of</a> cares o'erwhelming our conflicting +state.<br> + When, lo! a Hercules, in Fox, appear'd,<br> + Who for a time the ruin'd fabric rear'd:<br> + He, too, is fall'n, who Britain's loss supplied<a href= +"#f89"><sup>f</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr89">With</a> him, our fast reviving hopes have +died;<br> + Not one great people, only, raise his urn,<br> + All Europe's far-extended regions mourn.<br> + <a name="fr90">"These</a> feelings wide, let Sense and Truth +undue,<br> + To give the palm where Justice points its due;"<a href= +"#f90"><sup>g</sup></a><br> + Yet, let not canker'd Calumny assail<a href= +"#f91"><sup>h</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr91">Or</a> round her statesman wind her gloomy +veil.<br> + <b>Fox</b>! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep,<br> + Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep;<br> + For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan,<br> + While friends and foes, alike, his talents own<a href= +"#f92"><sup>i</sup></a>.--<br> + <a name="fr92">Fox!</a> shall, in Britain's future annals, +shine,<br> + <a name="fr93">Nor</a> e'en to <b>Pitt</b>, the patriot's +<i>palm</i> resign;<br> + Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,<br> + For <b>Pitt</b>, and <b>Pitt</b> alone, has dar'd to ask<a href= +"#f93"><sup>j</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + (<a name="fr94">Southwell</a>, Oct., 1806<a href= +"#f94"><sup>2</sup></a>.)</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Fox footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f86"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The stanza on the death of +Fox appeared in the <i>Morning Post</i>, September 26, 1806.<br> +<a href="#section24">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f83"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The subjoined Reply.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr83">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f94"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý This MS. is preserved at +Newstead.<br> + <a href="#fr94">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f84"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Would mangle, still, the dead, in spite of +truth.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr84">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f85"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Shall, therefore, dastard tongues assail the +name<br> + Of him, whose virtues claim eternal fame?</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr85">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f87"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>and all his errors.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr87">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f88"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>He died, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight<br> +Of cares oppressing our unhappy state.<br> +But lo! another Hercules appeared.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr88">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f89"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>He too is dead who still our England propp'd<br> +With him our fast reviving hopes have dropp'd.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr89">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f90"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And give the palm.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr90">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f91"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But let not canker'd Calumny assail<br> + And round.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr91">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f92"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote i:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And friends and foes.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr92">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f93"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>--would dare to ask.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr93">return</a> </td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section25"></a>To a Lady who Presented to the Author a +Lock of Hair Braided with his own, and appointed a Night in +December to meet him in the Garden<a href="#f95"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>These locks, which fondly thus entwine,<br> + In firmer chains our hearts confine,<br> + Than all th' unmeaning protestations<br> + Which swell with nonsense, love orations.<br> + Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it;<br> + Nor time, nor place, nor art have mov'd it;<br> + Then wherefore should we sigh and whine,<br> + With groundless jealousy repine;<br> + With silly whims, and fancies frantic,<br> + Merely to make our love romantic?<br> + Why should you weep, like <i>Lydia Languish</i>,<br> + And fret with self-created anguish?<br> + Or doom the lover you have chosen,<br> + On winter nights to sigh half frozen;<br> + In leafless shades, to sue for pardon,<br> + Only because the scene's a garden?<br> + For gardens seem, by one consent,<br> + (Since Shakespeare set the precedent;<br> + Since Juliet first declar'd her passion)<br> + To form the place of assignation.<br> + Oh! would some modern muse inspire,<br> + And seat her by a <i>sea-coal</i> fire;<br> + Or had the bard at Christmas written,<br> + And laid the scene of love in Britain;<br> + He surely, in commiseration,<br> + Had chang'd the place of declaration.<br> + In Italy, I've no objection,<br> + Warm nights are proper for reflection;<br> + But here our climate is so rigid,<br> + That love itself, is rather frigid:<br> + Think on our chilly situation,<br> + And curb this rage for imitation.<br> + Then let us meet, as oft we've done,<br> + Beneath the influence of the sun;<br> + <a name="fr96">Or</a>, if at midnight I must meet you,<br> + Within your mansion let me greet you<a href= +"#f96"><sup>a</sup></a>:<br> + <i>There</i>, we can love for hours together,<br> + Much better, in such snowy weather,<br> + Than plac'd in all th' Arcadian groves,<br> + <a name="fr97">That</a> ever witness'd rural loves;<br> + <i>Then</i>, if my passion fail to please<a href= +"#f97"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + Next night I'll be content to freeze;<br> + <a name="fr98">No</a> more I'll give a loose to laughter,<br> + But curse my fate, for ever after<a href= +"#f98"><sup>2</sup></a>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="frigid love footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f95"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý These lines are addressed +to the same Mary referred to in the lines beginning, "This faint +resemblance of thy charms." (<i>Vide ante</i>, p. 32.)<br> +<a href="#section25">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f96"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Oh! let me in your chamber greet +you.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr96">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f98"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý In the above little piece +the author has been accused by some <i>candid readers</i> of +introducing the name of a lady [Julia Leacroft] from whom he was +some hundred miles distant at the time this was written; and poor +Juliet, who has slept so long in "the tomb of all the Capulets," +has been converted, with a trifling alteration of her name, into +an English damsel, walking in a garden of their own creation, +during the month of <i>December</i>, in a village where the +author never passed a winter. Such has been the candour of some +ingenious critics. We would advise these <i>liberal</i> +commentators on taste and arbiters of decorum to read +<i>Shakespeare</i>.<br> +<br> +Having heard that a very severe and indelicate censure has been +passed on the above poem, I beg leave to reply in a quotation +from an admired work, <i>Carr's Stranger in France</i>.-- + +<blockquote>"As we were contemplating a painting on a large +scale, in which, among other figures, is the uncovered whole +length of a warrior, a prudish-looking lady, who seemed to have +touched the age of desperation, after having attentively surveyed +it through her glass, observed to her party that there was a +great deal of indecorum in that picture. Madame S. shrewdly +whispered in my ear 'that the indecorum was in the +remark.'"</blockquote> + +[<i>Ed</i>. 1803, cap. xvi. p. 171.<br> +Compare the <i>note</i> on verses addressed <i>To a Knot of +Ungenerous Critics</i>, p. 213.]<br> +<a href="#fr98">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f97"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>There if my passion</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr97">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section26"></a>To a Beautiful Quaker<a href="#f99"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Sweet girl! though only once we met,<br> + That meeting I shall ne'er forget;<br> + And though we ne'er may meet again,<br> + Remembrance will thy form retain;<br> + I would not say, "I love," but still,<br> + My senses struggle with my will:<br> + In vain to drive thee from my breast,<br> + My thoughts are more and more represt;<br> + In vain I check the rising sighs,<br> + Another to the last replies:<br> + Perhaps, this is not love, but yet,<br> + Our meeting I can ne'er forget.<br> +<br> + What, though we never silence broke,<br> + Our eyes a sweeter language spoke;<br> + The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,<br> + And tells a tale it never feels:<br> + Deceit, the guilty lips impart,<br> + And hush the mandates of the heart;<br> + But soul's interpreters, the eyes,<br> + Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.<br> + As thus our glances oft convers'd,<br> + And all our bosoms felt rehears'd,<br> + No <i>spirit</i>, from within, reprov'd us,<br> + Say rather, "'twas the <i>spirit mov'd</i> us."<br> + Though, what they utter'd, I repress,<br> + Yet I conceive thou'lt partly guess;<br> + For as on thee, my memory ponders,<br> + Perchance to me, thine also wanders.<br> + This, for myself, at least, I'll say,<br> + Thy form appears through night, through day;<br> + Awake, with it my fancy teems,<br> + In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;<br> + The vision charms the hours away,<br> + And bids me curse Aurora's ray<br> + For breaking slumbers of delight,<br> + Which make me wish for endless night.<br> + Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,<br> + Shall joy or woe my steps await;<br> + Tempted by love, by storms beset,<br> + Thine image, I can ne'er forget.<br> +<br> + Alas! again no more we meet,<br> + No more our former looks repeat;<br> + Then, let me breathe this parting prayer,<br> + The dictate of my bosom's care:<br> + "May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker,<br> + That anguish never can o'ertake her;<br> + That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her,<br> + But bliss be aye her heart's partaker!<br> + Oh! may the happy mortal, fated<a href= +"#f100"><sup>a</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr100">To</a> be, by dearest ties, related,<br> + For <i>her</i>, each hour, <i>new joys</i> discover<a href= +"#f101"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr101">And</a> lose the husband in the lover!<br> +May that fair bosom never know<br> + What 'tis to feel the restless woe,<br> + Which stings the soul, with vain regret,<br> + Of him, who never can forget!"<br> +<br> + 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="quaker footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f99"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Whom the author saw at +Harrowgate.</i></blockquote> + +Annotated copy of <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>, p. 64 (<i>British +Museum</i>).<br> +<a href="#section26">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f100"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý The Quarto inserts the +following lines:-- + +<blockquote><i>"No jealous passion shall invade,<br> +No envy that pure heart pervade;"<br> +For he that revels in such charms,<br> +Can never seek another's arms.</i></blockquote> + +<br> +<a href="#fr100">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f101"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>new joy <i>discover</i>.</blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr101">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section27"></a>To Lesbia<a href="#f102"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a> <a href="#f103"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + <b>Lesbia</b>! since far from you I've rang'd<a href= +"#f104"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr104">Our</a> souls with fond affection glow not;<br> + You say, 'tis I, not you, have chang'd,<br> + I'd tell you why,--but yet I know not.<br> +<br> +<br> +2.<br> +<br> + Your polish'd brow no cares have crost;<br> + And Lesbia! we are not much older<a href= +"#f105"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr105">Since</a>, trembling, first my heart I lost,<br> + Or told my love, with hope grown bolder.<br> +<br> +<br> +3.<br> +<br> + Sixteen was then our utmost age,<br> + Two years have lingering pass'd away, love!<br> + And now new thoughts our minds engage,<br> + At least, I feel disposed to stray, love!<br> +<br> +<br> +4.<br> +<br> + "Tis <i>I</i> that am alone to blame,<br> + <i>I</i>, that am guilty of love's treason;<br> + Since your sweet breast is still the same,<br> + Caprice must be my only reason.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + I do not, love! suspect your truth,<br> + With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not;<br> + Warm was the passion of my youth,<br> + One trace of dark deceit it leaves not.<br> +<br> +<br> +6.<br> +<br> + No, no, my flame was not pretended;<br> + For, oh! I lov'd you most sincerely;<br> + And though our dream at last is ended<br> + My bosom still esteems you dearly.<br> +<br> +<br> +7.<br> +<br> + No more we meet in yonder bowers;<br> + Absence has made me prone to roving<a href= +"#f106"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr106">But</a> older, firmer <i>hearts</i> than +ours<br> + Have found monotony in loving.<br> +<br> +<br> +8.<br> +<br> + Your cheek's soft bloom is unimpair'd,<br> + New beauties, still, are daily bright'ning,<br> + Your eye, for conquest beams prepar'd<a href= +"#f107"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr107">The</a> forge of love's resistless +lightning.<br> +<br> +<br> +9.<br> +<br> + Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed,<br> + Many will throng, to sigh like me, love!<br> + More constant they may prove, indeed;<br> + Fonder, alas! they ne'er can be, love!<br> +<br> +<br> +1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Lesbia footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f102"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý "The lady's name was Julia +Leacroft"<br> + (<i>Note by Miss E. Pigot</i>).<br> +The word "Julia" (?) is added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated +copy of <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>, p. 52 (British Museum)<br> +<a href="#section27">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f103"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý <i>To Julia</i>. +Ý[4to]<br> + <a href="#section27">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f104"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý <i>Julia since</i>. +Ý[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr104">return</a><br> + </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f105"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý <i>And Julia</i>. +Ý[4to]<br> + <a href="#fr105">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f106"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Perhaps my soul's too pure for +roving</i>.</blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr106">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f107"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Your eye for conquest comes +prepar'd.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr107">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section28">To Woman</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Woman! experience might have told me<a href= +"#f108"><sup>a</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr108">That</a> all must love thee, who behold +thee:<br> + Surely experience might have taught<br> + Thy firmest promises are nought<a href= +"#f109"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr109">But</a>, plac'd in all thy charms before me,<br> + All I forget, but to <i>adore</i> thee.<br> + Oh memory! thou choicest blessing,<br> + When join'd with hope, when still possessing<a href= +"#f110"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr110">But</a> how much curst by every lover<br> + When hope is fled, and passion's over.<br> + Woman, that fair and fond deceiver,<br> + How prompt are striplings to believe her!<br> + How throbs the pulse, when first we view<br> + The eye that rolls in glossy blue,<br> + Or sparkles black, or mildly throws<br> + A beam from under hazel brows!<br> + How quick we credit every oath,<br> + And hear her plight the willing troth!<br> + Fondly we hope 'twill last for ay,<br> + <a name="fr111">When</a>, lo! she changes in a day.<br> + <a name="fr112">This</a> record will for ever stand,'<br> + "Woman, thy vows are trac'd in sand."<a href= +"#f111"><sup>1</sup></a> <a href= +"#f112"><sup>d</sup></a></blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Woman footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f111"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The last line is almost a +literal translation from a Spanish proverb.<br> +<br> +(The last line is not "almost a literal translation from a +Spanish proverb," but an adaptation of part of a stanza from the +<i>Diana</i> of Jorge de Montemajor: + +<blockquote>"Mirà, el Amor, lo que ordena;<br> + Que os viene a hazer creer<br> + Cosas dichas por muger,<br> + Y escriptas en el arena."</blockquote> + +Southey, in his <i>Letters from Spain</i>, 1797, pp. 87-91, gives +a specimen of the <i>Diana</i>, and renders the lines in question +thus: + +<blockquote>"And Love beheld us from his secret stand,<br> + And mark'd his triumph, laughing, to behold me,<br> + To see me trust a writing traced in sand,<br> + To see me credit what a woman told me."</blockquote> + +Byron, who at this time had little or no knowledge of Spanish +literature, seems to have been struck with Southey's paraphrase, +and compressed the quatrain into an epigram.<br> +<a href="#fr111">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f108"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Surely, experience.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr108">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f109"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A woman's promises are naught.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr109">return</a> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f110"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý Here follows, in the +Quarto, an additional couplet:-- + +<blockquote><i>Thou whisperest, as our hearts are beating,<br> + "What oft we've done, we're still repeating,"</i></blockquote> + +<a href="#fr110">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f112"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A woman's promises are naught.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr112">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section29"></a>An Occasional Prologue, Delivered by the +Author Previous to the Performance of <i>The Wheel of Fortune</i> +at a Private Theatre<a href="#f113"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Since the refinement of this polish'd age<br> + Has swept immoral raillery from the stage;<br> + Since taste has now expung'd licentious wit,<br> + Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ;<br> + Since, now, to please with purer scenes we seek,<br> + Nor dare to call the blush from Beauty's cheek;<br> + Oh! let the modest Muse some pity claim,<br> + <a name="fr114">And</a> meet indulgence--though she find not +fame.<br> + Still, not for <i>her</i> alone, we wish respect<a href= +"#f114"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <i>Others</i> appear more conscious of defect:<br> + To-night no <i>vet'ran Roscii</i> you behold,<br> + In all the arts of scenic action old;<br> + No <b>Cooke</b>, no <b>Kemble</b>, can salute you here,<br> + No <b>Siddons</b> draw the sympathetic tear;<br> + To-night you throng to witness the <i>début</i><br> + Of embryo Actors, to the Drama new:<br> + Here, then, our almost unfledg'd wings we try;<br> + Clip not our <i>pinions</i>, ere the <i>birds can fly</i>:<br> + Failing in this our first attempt to soar,<br> + Drooping, alas! we fall to rise no more.<br> + Not one poor trembler, only, fear betrays,<br> + Who hopes, yet almost dreads to meet your praise;<br> + But all our Dramatis Personæ wait,<br> + In fond suspense this crisis of their fate.<br> + No venal views our progress can retard,<br> + Your generous plaudits are our sole reward;<br> + For these, each <i>Hero</i> all his power displays<a href= +"#f115"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr115">Each</a> timid <i>Heroine</i> shrinks before +your gaze:<br> + Surely the last will some protection find<a href= +"#f116"><sup>c</sup></a>?<br> + <a name="fr116">None</a>, to the softer sex, can prove +unkind:<br> + While Youth and Beauty form the female shield<a href= +"#f117"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr117">The</a> sternest Censor to the fair must yield<a +href="#f118"><sup>e</sup></a>.<br> + <a name="fr118">Yet</a>, should our feeble efforts nought +avail,<br> + Should, <i>after all</i>, our best endeavours fail;<br> + Still, let some mercy in your bosoms live,<br> + And, if you can't applaud, at least <i>forgive</i>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="prologue footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f113"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"I enacted Penruddock, in <i>The Wheel of +Fortune</i>, and Tristram Fickle, in the farce of <i>The +Weathercock</i>, for three nights, in some private theatricals at +Southwell, in 1806, with great applause. The occasional prologue +for our volunteer play was also of my composition."</blockquote> + +--<i>Diary; Life</i>, p. 38. The prologue was written by him, +between stages, on his way from Harrogate. On getting into the +carriage at Chesterfield, he said to his companion, + +<blockquote>"Now, Pigot, I'll spin a prologue for our +play;"</blockquote> + +and before they reached Mansfield he had completed his +task,--interrupting only once his rhyming reverie, to ask the +proper pronunciation of the French word <i>début</i>; and, +on being told it, exclaiming, + +<blockquote>"Aye, that will do for rhyme to +'<i>new</i>.'"</blockquote> + +--<i>Life</i>, p. 39.<br> +"The Prologue was spoken by G. Wylde, Esq."<br> +Note by Miss E. Pigot.<br> +<a href="#section29">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f114"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But not for her alone.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr114">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f115"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>For them each Hero.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr115">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f116"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Surely these last.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr116">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f117"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Whilst Youth</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr117">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f118"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>The sternest critic</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr118">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section30"></a>To Eliza<a href="#f119"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Eliza<a href="#f120"><sup>1</sup></a>! what fools are the +Mussulman sect,<br> + <a name="fr120">Who</a>, to woman, deny the soul's future +existence;<br> + <a name="fr121">Could</a> they see thee, Eliza! they'd own their +defect,<br> + And this doctrine would meet with a general resistance<a href= +"#f121"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Had their Prophet possess'd half an atom of sense<a href= +"#f122"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr122">He</a> ne'er would have <i>woman</i> from +Paradise driven;<br> + Instead of his <i>Houris</i>, a flimsy pretence<a href= +"#f123"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr123">With</a> <i>woman alone</i> he had peopled his +Heaven.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Yet, still, to increase your calamities more<a href= +"#f124"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr124">Not</a> content with depriving your bodies of +spirit,<br> + He allots one poor husband to share amongst four<a href= +"#f125"><sup>f</sup></a>!--<br> + <a name="fr125">With</a> <i>souls</i> you'd dispense; but, this +last, who could bear it?<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + His religion to please neither party is made;<br> + On <i>husbands</i> 'tis <i>hard</i>, to the wives most +uncivil;<br> + Still I can't contradict<a href="#f126"><sup>g</sup></a>, what +so oft has been said,<br> + <a name="fr126">"Though</a> women are angels, yet wedlock's the +devil."<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + This terrible truth, even Scripture has told<a href= +"#f127"><sup>2</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr127">Ye</a> Benedicks! hear me, and listen with +rapture;<br> + If a glimpse of redemption you wish to behold,<br> + Of <b>St. Matt.</b>--read the second and twentieth chapter.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + 'Tis surely enough upon earth to be vex'd,<br> + With wives who eternal confusion are spreading;<br> + "But in Heaven" (so runs the Evangelists' Text)<br> + "We neither have giving in marriage, or wedding."<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + From this we suppose, (as indeed well we may,)<br> + That should Saints after death, with their spouses put up +more,<br> + And wives, as in life, aim at absolute sway,<br> + All Heaven would ring with the conjugal uproar.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Distraction and Discord would follow in course,<br> + Nor <b>Matthew</b>, nor <b>Mark</b>, nor <b>St. Paul</b>, can +deny it,<br> + The only expedient is general divorce,<br> + To prevent universal disturbance and riot.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + But though husband and wife, shall at length be disjoin'd,<br> + Yet woman and man ne'er were meant to dissever,<br> + Our chains once dissolv'd, and our hearts unconfin'd,<br> + We'll love without bonds, but we'll love you for ever.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + Though souls are denied you by fools and by rakes,<br> + Should you own it yourselves, I would even then doubt you,<br> + Your nature so much of <i>celestial</i> partakes,<br> + The Garden of Eden would wither without you.<br> +<br> +<br> + Southwell, October 9, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="souls footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f120"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The letters "E. B. P." are +added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated copy of <i>P. on V. +Occasions</i>, p. 26 (British Museum). The initials stand for +Miss Elizabeth Pigot.<br> +<a href="#fr120">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f119"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>To Miss E. P.</i></blockquote> + +[4to] + +<blockquote><i>To Miss——</i></blockquote> + +<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i><br> +<a href="#section30">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f127"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý Stanzas 5-10, which appear +in the Quarto, were never reprinted.<br> +<a href="#fr127">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f121"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Did they know but yourself they would bend with +respect,<br> + And this doctrine must meet</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr121">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f122"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But an atom of sense.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr122">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f123"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But instead of his</i> Houris.</blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr123">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f124"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But still to increase.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr124">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f125"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>He allots but one husband.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr125">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f126"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But I can't--</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr126">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section31">The Tear</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros<br> + Ducentium ortus ex animo; quater<br> + Felix! in imo qui scatentem<br> + Pectore te, pia Nympha, sensit<a href= +"#f128"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr128"><b>Gray</b></a>, 'Alcaic Fragment'.</i><br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + 1.<br> +<br> + When Friendship or Love<br> + Our sympathies move;<br> +When Truth, in a glance, should appear,<br> + The lips may beguile,<br> + With a dimple or smile,<br> +But the test of affection's a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Too oft is a smile<br> + But the hypocrite's wile,<br> +To mask detestation, or fear;<br> + Give me the soft sigh,<br> + Whilst the soul-telling eye<br> +Is dimm'd, for a time, with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Mild Charity's glow,<br> + To us mortals below,<br> +Shows the soul from barbarity clear;<br> + Compassion will melt,<br> + Where this virtue is felt,<br> +And its dew is diffused in a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + The man, doom'd to sail<br> + With the blast of the gale,<br> +Through billows Atlantic to steer,<br> + As he bends o'er the wave<br> + Which may soon be his grave,<br> +The green sparkles bright with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + The Soldier braves death<br> + For a fanciful wreath<br> +In Glory's romantic career;<br> + But he raises the foe<br> + When in battle laid low,<br> +And bathes every wound with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + If, with high-bounding pride<a href= +"#f129"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr129">He</a> return to his bride!<br> +Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear;<br> + All his toils are repaid<br> + When, embracing the maid,<br> +From her eyelid he kisses the <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Sweet scene of my youth<a href="#f130"><sup>2</sup></a>!<br> + <a name="fr130">Seat</a> of Friendship and Truth,<br> +Where Love chas'd each fast-fleeting year;<br> + Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd,<br> + For a last look I turn'd,<br> +But thy spire was scarce seen through a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Though my vows I can pour,<br> + To my Mary no more<a href="#f131"><sup>3</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr131">My</a> Mary, to Love once so dear,<br> + In the shade of her bow'r,<br> + I remember the hour,<br> +She rewarded those vows with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + By another possest,<br> + May she live ever blest!<br> +Her name still my heart must revere:<br> + With a sigh I resign,<br> + What I once thought was mine,<br> +And forgive her deceit with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + Ye friends of my heart,<br> + Ere from you I depart,<br> +This hope to my breast is most near:<br> + If again we shall meet,<br> + In this rural retreat,<br> +May we <i>meet</i>, as we <i>part</i>, with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + When my soul wings her flight<br> + To the regions of night,<br> +And my corse shall recline on its bier<a href= +"#f132"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr132">As</a> ye pass by the tomb,<br> + Where my ashes consume,<br> +Oh! moisten their dust with a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + May no marble bestow<br> + The splendour of woe,<br> +Which the children of Vanity rear;<br> + No fiction of fame<br> + Shall blazon my name,<br> +All I ask, all I wish, is a <i>Tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr133">October</a> 26, 1806<a href= +"#f133"><sup>c</sup></a>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Tear footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f128"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr128">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f129"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>When with high-bounding pride,<br> + He returns...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr129">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f130"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý Harrow.<br> + <a href="#fr130">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f132"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And my body shall sleep on its +bier.</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr132">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f131"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Miss Chaworth was married +in 1805.<br> + <a href="#fr131">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f133"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>BYRON, October 26, 1806.</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr133">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section32"></a>Reply to some Verses of J.M.B. Pigot, +Esq., on the Cruelty of his Mistress<a href="#f134"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Why, Pigot, complain<br> + Of this damsel's disdain,<br> + Why thus in despair do you fret?<br> + For months you may try,<br> + Yet, believe me, a <i>sigh</i><a href= +"#f135"><sup>a</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr135">Will</a> never obtain a <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Would you teach her to love?<br> + For a time seem to rove;<br> + At first she may <i>frown</i> in a <i>pet</i>;<br> + But leave her awhile,<br> + She shortly will smile,<br> + And then you may <i>kiss</i> your <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + For such are the airs<br> + Of these fanciful fairs,<br> + They think all our <i>homage</i> a <i>debt</i>:<br> + Yet a partial neglect<a href="#f136"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr136">Soon</a> takes an effect,<br> + And humbles the proudest <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Dissemble your pain,<br> + And lengthen your chain,<br> + And seem her <i>hauteur</i> to <i>regret</i><a href= +"#f137"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr137">If</a> again you shall sigh,<br> + She no more will deny,<br> + That <i>yours</i> is the rosy <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + If still, from false pride<a href="#f138"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr138">Your</a> pangs she deride,<br> + This whimsical virgin forget;<br> + Some <i>other</i> admire,<br> + Who will <i>melt</i> with your <i>fire</i>,<br> + And laugh at the <i>little coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + For <i>me</i>, I adore<br> + Some <i>twenty</i> or more,<br> + And love them most dearly; but yet,<br> + Though my heart they enthral,<br> + I'd abandon them all,<br> + Did they act like your blooming <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + No longer repine,<br> + Adopt this design<a href="#f139"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr139">And</a> break through her slight-woven net!<br> + Away with despair,<br> + No longer forbear<br> + To fly from the captious <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Then quit her, my friend!<br> + Your bosom defend,<br> + Ere quite with her snares you're beset:<br> + Lest your deep-wounded heart,<br> + When incens'd by the smart,<br> + Should lead you to <i>curse</i> the <i>coquette</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="fr140">October</a> 27, 1806<a href= +"#f140"><sup>f</sup></a>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="coquette footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f134"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The letters "C. B. F. J. +B. M." are added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated copy of +<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>, p. 14 (British Museum).<br> +<a href="#section32">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f135"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But believe me</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr135">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f136"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But a partial...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr136">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f137"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Nor seem...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr137">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f138"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But if from false pride...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr138">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f139"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But form this design...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr139">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f140"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>BYRON, October 27, 1806..</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr140">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section33">Granta. A Medley</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><a href="#f141"><img src="images/BG3.gif" width="355" +height="24" alt= +"Greek(transliterated): Argureais logchaisi machou kai panta krataese_o."> +</a><br> +<br> +<i>(<a name="fr141">Reply</a> of the Pythian Oracle to Philip of +Macedon.)</i><br> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + Oh! could <b>Le Sage's</b><a href="#f142"><sup>2</sup></a> +demon's gift<br> + <a name="fr142">Be</a> realis'd at my desire,<br> + <a name="fr143">This</a> night my trembling form he'd lift<br> + To place it on St. Mary's spire<a href= +"#f143"><sup>a</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +2.<br> +<br> + Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls,<br> + Pedantic inmates full display;<br> + <i>Fellows</i> who dream on <i>lawn</i> or <i>stalls</i>,<br> + <a name="fr144">The</a> price of venal votes to pay<a href= +"#f144"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +3.<br> +<br> + Then would I view each rival wight,<br> + <b>Petty</b> and <b>Palmerston</b> survey;<br> + <a name="fr145">Who</a> canvass there, with all their might<a +href="#f145"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr146">Against</a> the next elective day<a href= +"#f146"><sup>3</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +4.<br> +<br> + Lo! candidates and voters lie<a href= +"#f147"><sup>d</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr147">All</a> lull'd in sleep, a goodly number!<br> + A race renown'd for piety,<br> + Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + Lord H——<a href="#f148"><sup>4</sup></a> indeed, may +not demur;<br> + <a name="fr148">Fellows</a> are sage, reflecting men:<br> + They know preferment can occur,<br> + But very seldom,--<i>now</i> and <i>then</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +6.<br> +<br> + They know the Chancellor has got<br> + Some pretty livings in disposal:<br> + <a name="fr149">Each</a> hopes that <i>one</i> may be his +<i>lot</i>,<br> + And, therefore, smiles on his proposal<a href= +"#f149"><sup>e</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +7.<br> +<br> + Now from the soporific scene<a href="#f150"><sup>f</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr150">I'll</a> turn mine eye, as night grows +later,<br> + To view, unheeded and unseen<a href= +"#f151"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr151">The</a> studious sons of Alma Mater.<br> +<br> +<br> +8.<br> +<br> + There, in apartments small and damp,<br> + The candidate for college prizes,<br> + <a name="fr152">Sits</a> poring by the midnight lamp;<br> + Goes late to bed, yet early rises<a href= +"#f152"><sup>h</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + He surely well deserves to gain them,<br> + With all the honours of his college<a href= +"#f153"><sup>i</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr153">Who</a>, striving hardly to obtain them,<br> + Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge:<br> +<br> +<br> +10.<br> +<br> + Who sacrifices hours of rest,<br> + To scan precisely metres Attic;<br> + Or agitates his anxious breast<a href= +"#f154"><sup>j</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr154">In</a> solving problems mathematic:<br> +<br> +<br> +11.<br> +<br> + Who reads false quantities in Seale<a href= +"#f155"><sup>5</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr155">Or</a> puzzles o'er the deep triangle;<br> + <a name="fr156">Depriv'd</a> of many a wholesome meal<a href= +"#f156"><sup>k</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr157">In</a> <i>barbarous Latin</i><a href= +"#f157"><sup>6</sup></a> doom'd to wrangle:<br> +<br> +<br> +12.<br> +<br> + Renouncing every pleasing page,<br> + From authors of historic use;<br> + Preferring to the letter'd sage,<br> + <a name="fr158">The</a> square of the hypothenuse<a href= +"#f158"><sup>7</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +13.<br> +<br> + Still, harmless are these occupations<a href= +"#f159"><sup>m</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr159">That</a> hurt none but the hapless student,<br> + Compar'd with other recreations,<br> + Which bring together the imprudent;<br> +<br> +<br> +14.<br> +<br> + Whose daring revels shock the sight,<br> + When vice and infamy combine,<br> + When Drunkenness and dice invite<a href= +"#f160"><sup>n</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr160">As</a> every sense is steep'd in wine.<br> +<br> +<br> +15.<br> +<br> + Not so the methodistic crew,<br> + Who plans of reformation lay:<br> + In humble attitude they sue,<br> + And for the sins of others pray:<br> +<br> +<br> +16.<br> +<br> + Forgetting that their pride of spirit,<br> + Their exultation in their trial<a href= +"#f161"><sup>0</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr161">Detracts</a> most largely from the merit<br> + Of all their boasted self-denial.<br> +<br> +<br> +17.<br> +<br> + 'Tis morn:--from these I turn my sight:<br> + What scene is this which meets the eye?<br> + A numerous crowd array'd in white<a href= +"#f162"><sup>8</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr162">Across</a> the green in numbers fly.<br> +<br> +<br> +18.<br> +<br> + Loud rings in air the chapel bell;<br> + 'Tis hush'd:--what sounds are these I hear?<br> + The organ's soft celestial swell<br> + Rolls deeply on the listening ear.<br> +<br> +19.<br> +<br> + To this is join'd the sacred song,<br> + The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain;<br> + Though <i>he</i> who hears the <i>music</i> long<a href= +"#f163"><sup>p</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr163">Will</a> <i>never</i> wish to <i>hear +again</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +20.<br> +<br> + Our choir would scarcely be excus'd,<br> + E'en as a band of raw beginners;<br> + All mercy, now, must be refus'd<a href= +"#f164"><sup>q</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr164">To</a> such a set of croaking sinners.<br> +<br> +<br> +21.<br> +<br> + If David, when his toils were ended,<br> + Had heard these blockheads sing before him,<br> + To us his psalms had ne'er descended,--<br> + In furious mood he would have tore 'em.<br> +<br> +<br> +22.<br> +<br> + The luckless Israelites, when taken<br> + By some inhuman tyrant's order,<br> + Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken,<br> + On Babylonian river's border.<br> +<br> +<br> +23.<br> +<br> + Oh! had they sung in notes like these<a href= +"#f165"><sup>r</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr165">Inspir'd</a> by stratagem or fear,<br> + They might have set their hearts at ease,<br> + The devil a soul had stay'd to hear.<br> +<br> +<br> +24.<br> +<br> + But if I scribble longer now<a href= +"#f166"><sup>s</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr166">The</a> deuce a soul will <i>stay to +read</i>;<br> + My pen is blunt, my ink is low;<br> + 'Tis almost time to <i>stop, indeed</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> +25.<br> +<br> + Therefore, farewell, old <i>Granta's</i> spires!<br> + No more, like <i>Cleofas</i>, I fly;<br> + No more thy theme my Muse inspires:<br> + The reader's tir'd, and so am I.<br> +<br> +<br> +October 28, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Granta footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f141"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>: + +<blockquote>"Fight with silver spears" <i>(i. e.</i> with +bribes), "and them shall prevail in all things."</blockquote> + +<br> +<a href="#fr141">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f143"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And place it...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr143">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f142"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý The <i>Diable Boiteux</i> +of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an +elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection. [Don +Cleofas, clinging to the cloak of Asmodeus, is carried through +the air to the summit of S. Salvador.]<br> +<a href="#fr142">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f144"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>The price of hireling...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr144">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f146"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý On the death of Pitt, in +January, 1806, Lord Henry Petty beat Lord Palmerston in the +contest for the representation of the University of Cambridge in +Parliament.<br> +<a href="#fr146">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f145"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Who canvass now...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr145">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f148"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý Probably Lord Henry Petty. +See variant d.<br> + <a href="#fr148">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f147"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>One on his power and place depends,<br> + The other on--the Lord knows what!<br> +Each to some eloquence pretends,<br> + But neither will convince by that.<br> +<br> + The first, indeed, may not demur;<br> + Fellows are sage reflecting men,<br> +And know...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr147">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f155"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> ÝScale's publication on +Greek Metres displays considerable talent and ingenuity, but, as +might be expected in so difficult a work, is not remarkable for +accuracy. (<i>An Analysis of the Greek Metres; for the use of +students at the University of Cambridge</i>. By John Barlow Seale +(1764), 8vo. A fifth edition was issued in 1807.)<br> +<a href="#fr155">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f149"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And therefore smiles at his...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr149">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f157"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> ÝThe Latin of the schools is +of the <i>canine species</i>, and not very intelligible.<br> +<a href="#fr157">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f150"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Now from Corruption's shameless +scene...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr150">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f158"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span> Ý 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.<br> +<a href="#fr158">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f151"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And view unseen...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr151">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f162"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span> Ý On a saint's day the +students wear surplices in chapel.<br> + <a href="#fr162">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f152"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>and early rises...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr152">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f153"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote i:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And all the...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr153">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f154"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And agitates...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr154">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f156"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And robs himself of many a +meal...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr156">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f159"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But harmless are these occupations...<br> + Which...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr159">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f160"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>When Drunkenness and dice unite.<br> + And every sense...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr160">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f161"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And exultation...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr161">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f163"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But he...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr163">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f164"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote q:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But mercy...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr164">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f165"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote r:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But had they sung...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr165">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f166"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote s:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But if I write much longer now...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr166">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section34"></a>To the Sighing Strephon<a href= +"#f167"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Your pardon, my friend,<br> + If my rhymes did offend,<br> + Your pardon, a thousand times o'er;<br> + From friendship I strove,<br> + Your pangs to remove,<br> + But, I swear, I will do so no more.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Since your <i>beautiful</i> maid,<br> + Your flame has repaid,<br> + No more I your folly regret;<br> + She's now most divine,<br> + And I bow at the shrine,<br> + Of this quickly reformèd coquette.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Yet still, I must own<a href="#f168"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr168">I</a> should never have known,<br> + From <i>your verses</i>, what else she deserv'd;<br> + Your pain seem'd so great,<br> + I pitied your fate,<br> + As your fair was so dev'lish reserv'd.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Since the balm-breathing kiss<a href= +"#f169"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr169">Of</a> this magical Miss,<br> + Can such wonderful transports produce<a href= +"#f170"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr170">Since</a> the <i>"world you forget,<br> + When your lips once have met,"</i><br> + My counsel will get but abuse.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + You say, "When I rove,"<br> + "I know nothing of love;"<br> + Tis true, I am given to range;<br> + If I rightly remember,<br> + <i>I've lov'd</i> a good number<a href= +"#f171"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr171">Yet</a> there's pleasure, at least, in a +change.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + I will not advance<a href="#f172"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr172">By</a> the rules of romance,<br> + To humour a whimsical fair;<br> + Though a smile may delight,<br> + Yet a <i>frown</i> will <i>affright</i><a href= +"#f173"><sup>f</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr173">Or</a> drive me to dreadful despair.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + While my blood is thus warm,<br> + I ne'er shall reform,<br> + To mix in the Platonists' school;<br> + Of this I am sure,<br> + <a name="fr174">Was</a> my Passion so pure,<br> + Thy <i>Mistress</i> would think me a fool<a href= +"#f174"><sup>g</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8<a href="#f175"><sup>h</sup></a><br> +<br> + <a name="fr175">And</a> if I should shun,<br> + Every <i>woman</i> for <i>one,</i><br> + Whose <i>image</i> must fill my whole breast;<br> + Whom I must <i>prefer,</i><br> + And <i>sigh</i> but for <i>her,</i><br> + What an <i>insult</i> 'twould be to the <i>rest!</i><br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Now Strephon, good-bye;<br> + I cannot deny,<br> + Your <i>passion</i> appears most <i>absurd;</i><br> + Such <i>love</i> as you plead,<br> + Is <i>pure</i> love, indeed,<br> + For it <i>only</i> consists in the <i>word</i>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Strephon footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f167"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The letters "J. M. B. P." +are added, in a lady's hand, in the annotated copy of <i>P. on V. +Occasions</i>, p. 17 (British Museum).<br> +<a href="#section34">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f168"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But still...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr168">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f169"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But since the chaste kiss...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr169">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f170"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Such wonderful...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr170">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f171"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>I've kiss'd a good number. +But--...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr171">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f172"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>I ne'er will advance...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr172">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f173"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Yet a frown won't affright...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr173">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f174"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>My mistress must think me...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr174">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f175"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Though the kisses are sweet,<br> + Which voluptuously meet,<br> + Of kissing I ne'er was so fond,<br> + As to make me forget,<br> + Though our lips oft have met,<br> + That still there was something beyond....</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr175">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section35"></a>The Cornelian<a href="#f176"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + No specious splendour of this stone<br> + Endears it to my memory ever;<br> + <a name="fr177">With</a> lustre <i>only once</i> it shone,<br> + And blushes modest as the giver<a href= +"#f177"><sup>a</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Some, who can sneer at friendship's ties,<br> + Have, for my weakness, oft reprov'd me;<br> + Yet still the simple gift I prize,<br> + For I am sure, the giver lov'd me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + He offer'd it with downcast look,<br> + As <i>fearful</i> that I might refuse it;<br> + I told him, when the gift I took,<br> + My <i>only fear</i> should be, to lose it.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + This pledge attentively I view'd,<br> + And <i>sparkling</i> as I held it near,<br> + Methought one drop the stone bedew'd,<br> + And, ever since, <i>I've lov'd a tear</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Still, to adorn his humble youth,<br> + Nor wealth nor birth their treasures yield;<br> + But he, who seeks the flowers of truth,<br> + Must quit the garden, for the field.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + 'Tis not the plant uprear'd in sloth,<br> + Which beauty shews, and sheds perfume;<br> + The flowers, which yield the most of both,<br> + In Nature's wild luxuriance bloom.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Had Fortune aided Nature's care,<br> + For once forgetting to be blind,<br> + <i>His</i> would have been an ample share,<br> + If well proportioned to his mind.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + But had the Goddess clearly seen,<br> + His form had fix'd her fickle breast;<br> + <i>Her</i> countless hoards would <i>his</i> have been,<br> + And none remain'd to give the rest.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Carnelian footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f176"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The cornelian was a +present from his friend Edleston, a Cambridge chorister, +afterwards a clerk in a mercantile house in London. Edleston died +of consumption, May 11, 1811. (See letter from Byron to Miss +Pigot, October 28, 1811.) Their acquaintance began by Byron +saving him from drowning. (MS. note by the Rev. W. Harness.)<br> +<a href="#section35">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f177"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>But blushes modest...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr177">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section36"></a>To M——<a href="#f178"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire,<br> + With bright, but mild affection shine:<br> +Though they might kindle less desire,<br> + Love, more than mortal, would be thine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> +For thou art form'd so heavenly fair,<br> + <i>Howe'er</i> those orbs <i>may</i> wildly beam,<br> +We must <i>admire</i>, but still despair;<br> + That fatal glance forbids esteem.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth,<br> + So much perfection in thee shone,<br> +She fear'd that, too divine for earth,<br> + The skies might claim thee for their own.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Therefore, to guard her dearest work,<br> + Lest angels might dispute the prize,<br> +She bade a secret lightning lurk,<br> + Within those once celestial eyes.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + These might the boldest Sylph appall,<br> + When gleaming with meridian blaze;<br> +Thy beauty must enrapture all;<br> + But who can dare thine ardent gaze?<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + 'Tis said that Berenice's hair,<br> + In stars adorns the vault of heaven;<br> +But they would ne'er permit <i>thee</i> there,<br> + <i>Thou</i> wouldst so far outshine the seven.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + For did those eyes as planets roll,<br> + Thy sister-lights would scarce appear:<br> +E'en suns, which systems now controul,<br> + <a name="fr179">Would</a> twinkle dimly through their sphere<a +href="#f179"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + Friday, November 7, 1806</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="To M footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f179"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,<br> + Having some business, do intreat her eyes<br> + To twinkle in their spheres till they return."<br> +Shakespeare.</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr179">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f178"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>To A...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#section36">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section37"></a>Lines Addressed to a Young Lady<a href= +"#f180"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>.</h3> + +<br> +<b>(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 stanzas +were addressed the next morning)<a href= +"#f181"><sup>2</sup></a>.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote><a name="fr181">1.</a><br> +<br> + Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead,<br> + Wafting destruction o'er thy charms<a href= +"#f182"><sup>a</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr182">And</a> hurtling o'er<a href= +"#f183"><sup>3</sup></a> thy lovely head,<br> + <a name="fr183">Has</a> fill'd that breast with fond alarms.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Surely some envious Demon's force,<br> + Vex'd to behold such beauty here,<br> +Impell'd the bullet's viewless course,<br> + Diverted from its first career.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Yes! in that nearly fatal hour,<br> + The ball obey'd some hell-born guide;<br> +But Heaven, with interposing power,<br> + In pity turn'd the death aside.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Yet, as perchance one trembling tear<br> + Upon that thrilling bosom fell;<br> +Which <i>I</i>, th' unconscious cause of fear,<br> + Extracted from its glistening cell;--<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Say, what dire penance can atone<br> + For such an outrage, done to thee?<br> +Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,<br> + What punishment wilt thou decree?<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Might I perform the Judge's part,<br> + The sentence I should scarce deplore;<br> +It only would restore a heart,<br> + Which but belong'd to <i>thee</i> before.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + The least atonement I can make<br> + Is to become no longer free;<br> +Henceforth, I breathe but for thy sake,<br> + Thou shalt be <i>all in all</i> to me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject<br> + Such expiation of my guilt;<br> +Come then--some other mode elect?<br> + Let it be death--or what thou wilt.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Choose, then, relentless! and I swear<br> + Nought shall thy dread decree prevent;<br> +Yet hold--one little word forbear!<br> + Let it be aught but banishment.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Bullet footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f180"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý This title first appeared +in "Contents" to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i><br> +<a href="#section37">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f182"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>near thy charms...</i></blockquote> + +[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr182">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f181"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý The occurrence took place +at Southwell, and the beautiful lady to whom the lines were +addressed was Miss Houson, who is also commemorated in the verses +<i>To a Vain Lady</i> and <i>To Anne</i>. She was the daughter of +the Rev. Henry Houson of Southwell, and married the Rev. Luke +Jackson. She died on Christmas Day, 1821, and her monument may be +seen in Hucknall Torkard Church.<br> +<a href="#fr181">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f183"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý This word is used by Gray +in his poem to the <i>Fatal Sisters</i>:-- + +<blockquote>"Iron-sleet of arrowy shower<br> + Hurtles in the darken'd air."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr183">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section38">Translation from Catullus. <i>Ad +Lesbiam</i></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Equal to Jove that youth must be--<br> + <i>Greater</i> than Jove he seems to me--<br> + Who, free from Jealousy's alarms,<br> + Securely views thy matchless charms;<br> + That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,<br> + That mouth, from whence such music flows,<br> + To him, alike, are always known,<br> + Reserv'd for him, and him alone.<br> + Ah! Lesbia! though 'tis death to me,<br> + I cannot choose but look on thee;<br> + But, at the sight, my senses fly,<br> + I needs must gaze, but, gazing, die;<br> + Whilst trembling with a thousand fears,<br> + Parch'd to the throat my tongue adheres,<br> + My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves short,<br> + My limbs deny their slight support;<br> + Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread,<br> + With deadly languor droops my head,<br> + My ears with tingling echoes ring,<br> + And Life itself is on the wing;<br> + My eyes refuse the cheering light,<br> + Their orbs are veil'd in starless night:<br> + Such pangs my nature sinks beneath,<br> + And feels a temporary death.</blockquote> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section39">Translation of the Epitaph on Virgil and +Tibullus, by Domitius Marsus</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>He who, sublime, in epic numbers roll'd,<br> + And he who struck the softer lyre of Love,<br> + By Death's <i>unequal</i><a href="#f184"><sup>1</sup></a> hand +alike controul'd,<br> + <a name="fr184">Fit</a> comrades in Elysian regions +move!</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f184"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý The hand of Death is said to be unjust or unequal, as +Virgil was considerably older than Tibullus at his decease.<br> +<a href="#fr184">return to footnote mark</a> <br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section40">Imitation of Tibullus. <i>Sulpicia ad +Cerinthum</i></a></h3> + +<br> +<b>Lib. Quart.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>Cruel Cerinthus! does the fell disease<a href= +"#f185"><sup>a</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr185">Which</a> racks my breast your fickle bosom +please?<br> + Alas! I wish'd but to o'ercome the pain,<br> + That I might live for Love and you again;<br> + But, now, I scarcely shall bewail my fate:<br> + By Death alone I can avoid your hate.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> + <br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f185"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>does this fell disease...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr185">return</a><br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section41">Translation from Catullus. <i>Lugete +Veneres Cupidinesque</i></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><a name="fr186">Carm.</a> III</b><a href= +"#f186"><sup>a</sup></a><br> +<br> +<blockquote>Ye Cupids, droop each little head,<br> + Nor let your wings with joy be spread,<br> + My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead,<br> + Whom dearer than her eyes she lov'd<a href= +"#f187"><sup>b</sup></a>:<br> + <a name="fr187">For</a> he was gentle, and so true,<br> + Obedient to her call he flew,<br> + No fear, no wild alarm he knew,<br> + But lightly o'er her bosom mov'd:<br> +<br> + And softly fluttering here and there,<br> + He never sought to cleave the air,<br> + He chirrup'd oft, and, free from care<a href= +"#f188"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr188">Tun'd</a> to her ear his grateful strain.<br> + Now having pass'd the gloomy bourn<a href= +"#f189"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr189">From</a> whence he never can return,<br> + His death, and Lesbia's grief I mourn,<br> + Who sighs, alas! but sighs in vain.<br> +<br> + Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave!<br> + Whose jaws eternal victims crave,<br> + From whom no earthly power can save,<br> + For thou hast ta'en the bird away:<br> + From thee my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow,<br> + Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow;<br> + Thou art the cause of all her woe,<br> + Receptacle of life's decay.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f186"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span> Ý <i>Luctus De Morte Passeris</i>. Ý[4to. <i>P. on V. +Occasions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr186">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> + <a name="f187"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span> Ý <i>Which dearer</i>. Ý [4to]<br> +<a href="#fr187">return</a><br> +<br> +<a name="f188"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span> Ý <i>But chirrup'd</i>. Ý[4to]<br> +<a href="#fr188">return</a><br> +<br> +<a name="f189"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +d:</span> Ý <i>But now he's pass'd</i>.Ý [4to]<br> +<a href="#fr189">return</a> <br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section42"></a>Imitated from Catullus<a href= +"#f190"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>. To +Ellen<a href="#f191"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,<br> + A million scarce would quench desire;<br> + Still would I steep my lips in bliss,<br> + And dwell an age on every kiss;<br> + Nor then my soul should sated be,<br> + Still would I kiss and cling to thee:<br> + Nought should my kiss from thine dissever,<br> + Still would we kiss and kiss for ever;<br> + E'en though the numbers did exceed<a href= +"#f192"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + The yellow harvest's countless seed;<br> + To part would be a vain endeavour:<br> + Could I desist?--ah! never--never.<br> +<br> + November 16, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Ellen footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f190"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý From a note in Byron's +copy of Catullus (now in the possession of Mr. Murray), it is +evident that these lines are based on Carm. xlviii., <i>Mellitos +oculos tuos, Juventi</i>.<br> +<a href="#section42">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f191"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý <i>To Anna</i>. Ý[4to]<br> + <a href="#section42">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f192"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>E'en though the number...</i></blockquote> + +[4to. <i>Three first Editions</i>.]<br> + <a href="#fr192">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section43">Poems on Various Occasions</a></h2> + +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section44">To M. S. G.</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Whene'er I view those lips of thine,<br> + Their hue invites my fervent kiss;<br> +Yet, I forego that bliss divine,<br> + Alas! it were--unhallow'd bliss.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Whene'er I dream of that pure breast,<br> + How could I dwell upon its snows!<br> +Yet, is the daring wish represt,<br> + For that,--would banish its repose.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + A glance from thy soul-searching eye<br> + Can raise with hope, depress with fear;<br> +Yet, I conceal my love,--and why?<br> + I would not force a painful tear.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + I ne'er have told my love, yet thou<br> + Hast seen my ardent flame too well;<br> +And shall I plead my passion now,<br> + To make thy bosom's heaven a hell?<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + No! for thou never canst be mine,<br> + United by the priest's decree:<br> +By any ties but those divine,<br> + Mine, my belov'd, thou ne'er shalt be.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Then let the secret fire consume,<br> + Let it consume, thou shalt not know:<br> +With joy I court a certain doom,<br> + Rather than spread its guilty glow.<br> +<br> +<br> +7.<br> +<br> + I will not ease my tortur'd heart,<br> + By driving dove-ey'd peace from thine;<br> +Rather than such a sting impart,<br> + Each thought presumptuous I resign.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Yes! yield those lips, for which I'd brave<br> + More than I here shall dare to tell;<br> +Thy innocence and mine to save,--<br> + I bid thee now a last farewell.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Yes! yield that breast, to seek despair<br> + And hope no more thy soft embrace;<br> +Which to obtain, my soul would dare,<br> + All, all reproach, but thy disgrace.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + At least from guilt shall thou be free,<br> + No matron shall thy shame reprove;<br> +Though cureless pangs may prey on me,<br> + No martyr shall thou be to love.</blockquote> + +<br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section45"></a>Stanzas to a Lady, with the Poems of +Camoëns<a href="#f193"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + This votive pledge of fond esteem,<br> + Perhaps, dear girl! for me thou'lt prize;<br> +It sings of Love's enchanting dream,<br> + A theme we never can despise.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Who blames it but the envious fool,<br> + The old and disappointed maid?<br> +Or pupil of the prudish school,<br> + In single sorrow doom'd to fade?<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Then read, dear Girl! with feeling read,<br> + For thou wilt ne'er be one of those;<br> +To thee, in vain, I shall not plead<br> + In pity for the Poet's woes.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + He was, in sooth, a genuine Bard;<br> + His was no faint, fictitious flame:<br> +Like his, may Love be thy reward,<br> + But not thy hapless fate the same.</blockquote> + +<br> + <br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f193"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Lord Strangford's <i>Poems from the Portüguese +by Luis de Camoëns</i> and "Little's" Poems are mentioned by +Moore as having been Byron's favourite study at this time +(<i>Life</i>, P--39).<br> +<a href="#section45">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section46"></a>To M. S. G.<a href="#f194"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + When I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive;<br> + Extend not your anger to sleep;<br> + For in visions alone your affection can live,--<br> + I rise, and it leaves me to weep.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Then, Morpheus! envelop my faculties fast,<br> + Shed o'er me your languor benign;<br> + Should the dream of to-night but resemble the last,<br> + What rapture celestial is mine!<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + They tell us that slumber, the sister of death,<br> + Mortality's emblem is given;<br> + To fate how I long to resign my frail breath,<br> + If this be a foretaste of Heaven!<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Ah! frown not, sweet Lady, unbend your soft brow,<br> + Nor deem me too happy in this;<br> + If I sin in my dream, I atone for it now,<br> + Thus doom'd, but to gaze upon bliss.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Though in visions, sweet Lady, perhaps you may smile,<br> + Oh! think not my penance deficient!<br> + When dreams of your presence my slumbers beguile,<br> + To awake, will be torture sufficient.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f194"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý "C. G. B. to E. P."--<i>MS. Newstead</i>.<br> +<a href="#section46">return to footnote mark</a><br> + <br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section47">Translation from Horace. <i>Justum et +tenacem</i>, etc.</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>"Justum et tenacem propositi virum". <b>Hor</b>. +'Odes', iii. 3. I.</i><br> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + The man of firm and noble soul<br> + No factious clamours can controul;<br> + No threat'ning tyrant's darkling brow<br> + Can swerve him from his just intent:<br> + Gales the warring waves which plough,<br> + By Auster on the billows spent,<br> + To curb the Adriatic main,<br> +Would awe his fix'd determined mind in vain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Aye, and the red right arm of Jove,<br> + Hurtling his lightnings from above,<br> + With all his terrors there unfurl'd,<br> + He would, unmov'd, unaw'd, behold;<br> + The flames of an expiring world,<br> + Again in crashing chaos roll'd,<br> + In vast promiscuous ruin hurl'd,<br> + Might light his glorious funeral pile:<br> +Still dauntless 'midst the wreck of earth he'd +smile.</blockquote> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section48">The First Kiss of Love</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><a href="#f195"><img src="images/BG4.gif" width="171" +height="38" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Ha barbitos de chordais / Er_ota mounon aechei."> +</a><br> +<br> +<b>Anacreon, <i>Ode 1</i>.</b><br> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + Away with your fictions of flimsy romance,<br> + Those tissues of falsehood which Folly has wove<a href= +"#f196"><sup>a</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr196">Give</a> me the mild beam of the soul-breathing +glance,<br> + Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with fantasy glow<a href= +"#f197"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr197">Whose</a> pastoral passions are made for the +grove;<br> +From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow<a href= +"#f198"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr198">Could</a> you ever have tasted the first kiss of +love.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,<br> + Or the Nine be dispos'd from your service to rove,<br> +Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the Muse,<br> + And try the effect, of the first kiss of love.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + I hate you, ye cold compositions of art,<br> + Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove;<br> +<a name="fr199">I</a> court the effusions that spring from the +heart,<br> + Which throbs, with delight, to the first kiss of love<a href= +"#f199"><sup>d</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +5.<br> +<br> + Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes<a href= +"#f200"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr200">Perhaps</a> may amuse, yet they never can +move:<br> +Arcadia displays but a region of dreams<a href= +"#f201"><sup>f</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr201">What</a> are visions like these, to the first +kiss of love?<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth<a href= +"#f202"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr202">From</a> Adam, till now, has with wretchedness +strove;<br> +Some portion of Paradise still is on earth,<br> + And Eden revives, in the first kiss of love.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past--<br> +For years fleet away with the wings of the dove--<br> +The dearest remembrance will still be the last,<br> +Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love.<br> +<br> +<br> + December 23, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Anacreon footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f195"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness.</i><br> + <a href="#section48">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f196"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Moriah<a href="#f203"><sup>A</sup></a> those air +dreams and types has o'er wove...<br> +<br> + Those tissues of fancy Moriah has wove...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<br> +<a name="f203"></a><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A</span>:Ý Moriah is the "Goddess of Folly".<br> +<a href="#fr196">return to main footnote mark</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f197"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Ye rhymers, who sing as if seated on +snow...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr197">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f198"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>With what blest inspiration...</i></blockquote> + +[4to <i>MS. P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr198">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f199"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Which glows with delight at...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr199">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f200"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>our shepherds, your pipes...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr200">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f201"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Arcadia yields but a legion of +dreams...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr201">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f202"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>that man from his birth...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr202">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section49"></a>Childish Recollections<a href= +"#f204"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>"I cannot but remember such things were,<br> + And were most dear to me."<br> +<br> + 'Macbeth' <a href="#f205"><sup>2</sup></a><br> +<br> + <a name="fr205">"That</a> were most precious to me."<br> +<br> + 'Macbeth', act iv. sc. 3.)</i><br> +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Recollection" border="0" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%">When slow Disease, with all her host of Pains<a +href="#f206"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr206">Chills</a> the warm tide, which flows along the +veins;<br> +When Health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,<br> +And flies with every changing gale of spring;<br> +Not to the aching frame alone confin'd,<br> +Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind:<br> +What grisly forms, the spectre-train of woe,<br> +Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow,<br> +With Resignation wage relentless strife,<br> +While Hope retires appall'd, and clings to life.<br> +Yet less the pang when, through the tedious hour,<br> +Remembrance sheds around her genial power,<br> +Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given,<br> +When Love was bliss, and Beauty form'd our heaven;<br> +Or, dear to youth, pourtrays each childish scene,<br> +Those fairy bowers, where all in turn have been.<br> +As when, through clouds that pour the summer storm,<br> +The orb of day unveils his distant form,<br> +Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain<br> +And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain;<br> +Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams,<br> +The Sun of Memory, glowing through my dreams,<br> +Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze,<br> +To scenes far distant points his paler rays,<br> +Still rules my senses with unbounded sway,<br> +The past confounding with the present day.<br> +Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought,<br> +Which still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought;<br> +My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields,<br> +And roams romantic o'er her airy fields.<br> +Scenes of my youth, develop'd, crowd to view,<br> +To which I long have bade a last adieu!<br> +Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes;<br> +Friends lost to me, for aye, except in dreams;<br> +Some, who in marble prematurely sleep,<br> +Whose forms I now remember, but to weep;<br> +Some, who yet urge the same scholastic course<br> +Of early science, future fame the source;<br> +Who, still contending in the studious race,<br> +In quick rotation, fill the senior place!<br> +These, with a thousand visions, now unite,<br> +To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight<a href= +"#f207"><sup>3</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr207"><b>Ida</b>!</a> blest spot, where Science holds +her reign,<br> +How joyous, once, I join'd thy youthful train!<br> +Bright, in idea, gleams thy lofty spire,<br> +Again, I mingle with thy playful quire;<br> +Our tricks of mischief<a href="#f208"><sup>4</sup></a>, every +childish game,<br> +<a name="fr208">Unchang'd</a> by time or distance, seem the +same;<br> +Through winding paths, along the glade I trace<br> +The social smile of every welcome face;<br> +My wonted haunts, my scenes of joy or woe,<br> +Each early boyish friend, or youthful foe,<br> +Our feuds dissolv'd, but not my friendship past,--<br> +I bless the former, and forgive the last.<br> +Hours of my youth! when, nurtur'd in my breast,<br> +To Love a stranger, Friendship made me blest,--<br> +Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth,<br> +When every artless bosom throbs with truth;<br> +Untaught by worldly wisdom how to feign,<br> +And check each impulse with prudential rein;<br> +When, all we feel, our honest souls disclose,<br> +In love to friends, in open hate to foes;<br> +No varnish'd tales the lips of youth repeat,<br> +No dear-bought knowledge purchased by deceit;<br> +Hypocrisy, the gift of lengthen'd years,<br> +Matured by age, the garb of Prudence wears<a href= +"#f209"><sup>b</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr209">When</a>, now, the Boy is ripen'd into Man,<br> +His careful Sire chalks forth some wary plan;<br> +Instructs his Son from Candour's path to shrink,<br> +Smoothly to speak, and cautiously to think;<br> +Still to assent, and never to deny--<br> +A patron's praise can well reward the lie:<br> +And who, when Fortune's warning voice is heard,<br> +Would lose his opening prospects for a word?<br> +Although, against that word, his heart rebel,<br> +And Truth, indignant, all his bosom swell.<br> + Away with themes like this! not mine the task,<br> +From flattering friends to tear the hateful mask;<br> +Let keener bards delight in Satire's sting,<br> +My Fancy soars not on Detraction's wing:<br> +Once, and but once, she aim'd a deadly blow,<br> +To hurl Defiance on a secret Foe;<br> +But when that foe, from feeling or from shame,<br> +The cause unknown, yet still to me the same,<br> +Warn'd by some friendly hint, perchance, retir'd,<br> +With this submission all her rage expired.<br> +From dreaded pangs that feeble Foe to save,<br> +She hush'd her young resentment, and forgave.<br> +Or, if my Muse a Pedant's portrait drew,<br> +<b>Pomposus'</b><a href="#f210"><sup>5</sup></a> virtues are but +known to few:<br> +<a name="fr210">I</a> never fear'd the young usurper's nod,<br> +And he who wields must, sometimes, feel the rod.<br> +If since on Granta's failings, known to all<br> +Who share the converse of a college hall,<br> +She sometimes trifled in a lighter strain,<br> +'Tis past, and thus she will not sin again:<br> +Soon must her early song for ever cease,<br> +And, all may rail, when I shall rest in peace.<br> + Here, first remember'd be the joyous band,<br> +Who hail'd me chief<a href="#f211"><sup>6</sup></a>, obedient to +command;<br> +<a name="fr211">Who</a> join'd with me, in every boyish +sport,<br> +Their first adviser, and their last resort;<br> +<a name="fr212">Nor</a> shrunk beneath the upstart pedant's +frown<a href="#f212"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr213">Or</a> all the sable glories of his gown<a href= +"#f213"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> +Who, thus, transplanted from his father's school,<br> +Unfit to govern, ignorant of rule--<br> +Succeeded him, whom all unite to praise,<br> +The dear preceptor of my early days,<br> +<b>Probus</b><a href="#f214"><sup>7</sup></a>, the pride of +science, and the boast--<br> +<a name="fr214">To</a> <b>Ida</b> now, alas! for ever lost!<br> +With him, for years, we search'd the classic page<a href= +"#f215"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr215">And</a> fear'd the Master, though we lov'd the +Sage:<br> +Retir'd at last, his small yet peaceful seat<br> +From learning's labour is the blest retreat.<br> +<b>Pomposus</b> fills his magisterial chair;<br> +<b>Pomposus</b> governs,--but, my Muse, forbear:<br> +Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot<a href= +"#f216"><sup>f</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr216">His</a> name and precepts be alike forgot;<br> +No more his mention shall my verse degrade,--<br> +<a name="fr217">To</a> him my tribute is already paid<a href= +"#f217"><sup>8</sup></a>.<br> + High, through those elms with hoary branches crown'd<a href= +"#f218"><sup>9</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr218">Fair</a> <b>Ida's</b> bower adorns the landscape +round;<br> +There Science, from her favour'd seat, surveys<br> +The vale where rural Nature claims her praise;<br> +To her awhile resigns her youthful train,<br> +Who move in joy, and dance along the plain;<br> +In scatter'd groups, each favour'd haunt pursue,<br> +Repeat old pastimes, and discover new;<br> +Flush'd with his rays, beneath the noontide Sun,<br> +In rival bands, between the wickets run,<br> +Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force,<br> +Or chase with nimble feet its rapid course.<br> +But these with slower steps direct their way,<br> +Where Brent's cool waves in limpid currents stray,<br> +While yonder few search out some green retreat,<br> +And arbours shade them from the summer heat:<br> +Others, again, a pert and lively crew,<br> +Some rough and thoughtless stranger plac'd in view,<br> +With frolic quaint their antic jests expose,<br> +And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes;<br> +Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray<br> +Tradition treasures for a future day:<br> +"'Twas here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought,<br> +And here we earn'd the conquest dearly bought:<br> +Here have we fled before superior might,<br> +And here renew'd the wild tumultuous fight."<br> +While thus our souls with early passions swell,<br> +In lingering tones resounds the distant bell;<br> +Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er,<br> +And Learning beckons from her temple's door.<br> +No splendid tablets grace her simple hall,<br> +But ruder records fill the dusky wall:<br> +There, deeply carv'd, behold! each Tyro's name<br> +Secures its owner's academic fame;<br> +Here mingling view the names of Sire and Son,<br> +The one long grav'd, the other just begun:<br> +These shall survive alike when Son and Sire,<br> +Beneath one common stroke of fate expire<a href= +"#f220"><sup>10</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr220">Perhaps</a>, their last memorial these alone,<br> +Denied, in death, a monumental stone,<br> +Whilst to the gale in mournful cadence wave<br> +The sighing weeds, that hide their nameless grave.<br> +And, here, my name, and many an early friend's,<br> +Along the wall in lengthen'd line extends.<br> +Though, still, our deeds amuse the youthful race,<br> +Who tread our steps, and fill our former place,<br> +Who young obeyed their lords in silent awe,<br> +Whose nod commanded, and whose voice was law;<br> +And now, in turn, possess the reins of power,<br> +To rule, the little Tyrants of an hour;<br> +Though sometimes, with the Tales of ancient day,<br> +They pass the dreary Winter's eve away;<br> +"And, thus, our former rulers stemm'd the tide,<br> +And, thus, they dealt the combat, side by side;<br> +Just in this place, the mouldering walls they scaled,<br> +Nor bolts, nor bars, against their strength avail'd;"<br> +Here <b>Probus</b> came, the rising fray to quell,<br> +And, here, he falter'd forth his last farewell;<br> +And, here, one night abroad they dared to roam,<br> +While bold <b>Pomposus</b> bravely staid at home;"<br> +While thus they speak, the hour must soon arrive,<br> +When names of these, like ours, alone survive:<br> +Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelm<br> +The faint remembrance of our fairy realm.<br> + Dear honest race! though now we meet no more,<br> +One last long look on what we were before--<br> +Our first kind greetings, and our last adieu--<br> +Drew tears from eyes unus'd to weep with you.<br> +Through splendid circles, Fashion's gaudy world,<br> +Where Folly's glaring standard waves unfurl'd,<br> +I plung'd to drown in noise my fond regret,<br> +And all I sought or hop'd was to forget:<br> +Vain wish! if, chance, some well-remember'd face,<br> +Some old companion of my early race,<br> +Advanc'd to claim his friend with honest joy,<br> +My eyes, my heart, proclaim'd me still a boy;<br> +The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around,<br> +Were quite forgotten when my friend was found;<br> +The smiles of Beauty, (for, alas! I've known<br> +What 'tis to bend before Love's mighty throne;)<br> +The smiles of Beauty, though those smiles were dear,<br> +Could hardly charm me, when that friend was near:<br> +My thoughts bewilder'd in the fond surprise,<br> +The woods of <b>Ida</b> danc'd before my eyes;<br> +I saw the sprightly wand'rers pour along,<br> +I saw, and join'd again the joyous throng;<br> +Panting, again I trac'd her lofty grove,<br> +And Friendship's feelings triumph'd over Love.<br> + Yet, why should I alone with such delight<br> +Retrace the circuit of my former flight?<br> +Is there no cause beyond the common claim,<br> +Endear'd to all in childhood's very name?<br> +Ah! sure some stronger impulse vibrates here,<br> +Which whispers friendship will be doubly dear<br> +To one, who thus for kindred hearts must roam,<br> +And seek abroad, the love denied at home.<br> +Those hearts, dear <b>Ida</b>, have I found in thee,<br> +A home, a world, a paradise to me.<br> +Stern Death forbade my orphan youth to share<br> +The tender guidance of a Father's care;<br> +Can Rank, or e'en a Guardian's name supply<br> +The love, which glistens in a Father's eye?<br> +For this, can Wealth, or Title's sound atone,<br> +Made, by a Parent's early loss, my own?<br> +What Brother springs a Brother's love to seek?<br> +What Sister's gentle kiss has prest my cheek?<br> +For me, how dull the vacant moments rise,<br> +To no fond bosom link'd by kindred ties!<br> +Oft, in the progress of some fleeting dream,<br> +Fraternal smiles, collected round me seem;<br> +While still the visions to my heart are prest,<br> +The voice of Love will murmur in my rest:<br> +I hear--I wake--and in the sound rejoice!<br> +I hear again,--but, ah! no Brother's voice.<br> +A Hermit, 'midst of crowds, I fain must stray<br> +Alone, though thousand pilgrims fill the way;<br> +While these a thousand kindred wreaths entwine,<br> +I cannot call one single blossom mine:<br> +What then remains? in solitude to groan,<br> +To mix in friendship, or to sigh alone?<br> +Thus, must I cling to some endearing hand,<br> +<a name="fr221">And</a> none more dear, than <b>Ida's</b> social +band.<br> + <b>Alonzo</b><a href="#f221"><sup>11</sup></a>! best and dearest +of my friends<a href="#f222"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr222">Thy</a> name ennobles him, who thus commends:<br> +From this fond tribute thou canst gain no praise;<br> +The praise is his, who now that tribute pays.<br> +Oh! in the promise of thy early youth,<br> +If Hope anticipate the words of Truth!<br> +Some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name,<br> +To build his own, upon thy deathless fame<a href= +"#f223"><sup>h</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr223">Friend</a> of my heart, and foremost of the +list<br> +Of those with whom I lived supremely blest;<br> +Oft have we drain'd the font of ancient lore,<br> +Though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more;<br> +Yet, when Confinement's lingering hour was done,<br> +Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:<br> +Together we impell'd the flying ball,<br> +Together waited in our tutor's hall;<br> +Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,<br> +Or shar'd the produce of the river's spoil;<br> +Or plunging from the green declining shore,<br> +Our pliant limbs the buoyant billows bore<a href= +"#f224"><sup>j</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr224">In</a> every element, unchang'd, the same,<br> +All, all that brothers should be, but the name.<br> + Nor, yet, are you forgot, my jocund Boy!<br> +<b>Davus</b><a href="#f225"><sup>12</sup></a>, the harbinger of +childish joy;<br> +<a name="fr225">For</a> ever foremost in the ranks of fun,<br> +The laughing herald of the harmless pun;<br> +Yet, with a breast of such materials made,<br> +Anxious to please, of pleasing half afraid;<br> +Candid and liberal, with a heart of steel<br> +In Danger's path, though not untaught to feel.<br> +Still, I remember, in the factious strife,<br> +The rustic's musket aim'd against my life<a href= +"#f226"><sup>13</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr226">High</a> pois'd in air the massy weapon hung,<br> +A cry of horror burst from every tongue:<br> +Whilst I, in combat with another foe,<br> +Fought on, unconscious of th' impending blow;<br> +Your arm, brave Boy, arrested his career--<br> +Forward you sprung, insensible to fear;<br> +Disarm'd, and baffled by your conquering hand,<br> +The grovelling Savage roll'd upon the sand:<br> +An act like this, can simple thanks repay<a href= +"#f227"><sup>k</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr227">Or</a> all the labours of a grateful lay?<br> +Oh no! whene'er my breast forgets the deed,<br> +That instant, <b>Davus</b>, it deserves to bleed.<br> + <b>Lycus</b><a href="#f228"><sup>14</sup></a>! on me thy claims +are justly great:<br> +<a name="fr228">Thy</a> milder virtues could my Muse relate,<br> +To thee, alone, unrivall'd, would belong<br> +The feeble efforts of my lengthen'd song<a href= +"#f229"><sup>m</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr229">Well</a> canst thou boast, to lead in senates +fit,<br> +A Spartan firmness, with Athenian wit:<br> +Though yet, in embryo, these perfections shine,<br> +<b>Lycus</b>! thy father's fame<a href="#f230"><sup>15</sup></a> +will soon be thine.<br> +<a name="fr230">Where</a> Learning nurtures the superior +mind,<br> +What may we hope, from genius thus refin'd;<br> +When Time, at length, matures thy growing years,<br> +How wilt thou tower, above thy fellow peers!<br> +Prudence and sense, a spirit bold and free,<br> +With Honour's soul, united beam in thee.<br> +Shall fair <b>Euryalus</b><a href="#f231"><sup>16</sup></a>, pass +by unsung?<br> +<a name="fr231">From</a> ancient lineage, not unworthy, +sprung:<br> +What, though one sad dissension bade us part,<br> +That name is yet embalm'd within my heart,<br> +Yet, at the mention, does that heart rebound,<br> +And palpitate, responsive to the sound;<br> +Envy dissolved our ties, and not our will:<br> +We once were friends,--I'll think, we are so still.<br> +A form unmatch'd in Nature's partial mould,<br> +A heart untainted, we, in thee, behold:<br> +Yet, not the Senate's thunder thou shall wield,<br> +Nor seek for glory, in the tented field:<br> +To minds of ruder texture, these be given--<br> +Thy soul shall nearer soar its native heaven.<br> +Haply, in polish'd courts might be thy seat,<br> +But, that thy tongue could never forge deceit:<br> +The courtier's supple bow, and sneering smile,<br> +The flow of compliment, the slippery wile,<br> +Would make that breast, with indignation, burn,<br> +And, all the glittering snares, to tempt thee, spurn.<br> +Domestic happiness will stamp thy fate;<br> +Sacred to love, unclouded e'er by hate;<br> +The world admire thee, and thy friends adore;--<br> +Ambition's slave, alone, would toil for more<a href= +"#f232"><sup>n</sup></a>.<br> + <a name="fr232">Now</a> last, but nearest, of the social +band,<br> +See honest, open, generous <b>Cleon</b><a href= +"#f233"><sup>17</sup></a> stand;<br> +<a name="fr233">With</a> scarce one speck, to cloud the pleasing +scene,<br> +No vice degrades that purest soul serene.<br> +On the same day, our studious race begun,<br> +On the same day, our studious race was run;<br> +Thus, side by side, we pass'd our first career,<br> +Thus, side by side, we strove for many a year:<br> +At last, concluded our scholastic life,<br> +<a name="fr234">We</a> neither conquer'd in the classic +strife:<br> +As Speakers<a href="#f234"><sup>18</sup></a>, each supports an +equal name<a href="#f235"><sup>o</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr235">And</a> crowds allow to both a partial fame:<br> +To soothe a youthful Rival's early pride,<br> +Though Cleon's candour would the palm divide,<br> +Yet Candour's self compels me now to own,<br> +Justice awards it to my Friend alone.<br> + Oh! Friends regretted, Scenes for ever dear,<br> +Remembrance hails you with her warmest tear!<br> +Drooping, she bends o'er pensive Fancy's urn,<br> +To trace the hours, which never can return;<br> +Yet, with the retrospection loves to dwell<a href= +"#f236"><sup>p</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr236">And</a> soothe the sorrows of her last +farewell!<br> +Yet greets the triumph of my boyish mind,<br> +As infant laurels round my head were twin'd;<br> +When <b>Probus</b>' praise repaid my lyric song,<br> +Or plac'd me higher in the studious throng;<br> +Or when my first harangue receiv'd applause<a href= +"#f237"><sup>19</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr237">His</a> sage instruction the primeval cause,<br> +What gratitude, to him, my soul possest,<br> +While hope of dawning honours fill'd my breast<a href= +"#f238"><sup>q</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr238">For</a> all my humble fame, to him alone,<br> +The praise is due, who made that fame my own.<br> +Oh! could I soar above these feeble lays,<br> +These young effusions of my early days,<br> +<a name="fr239">To</a> him my Muse her noblest strain would +give,<br> +The song might perish, but the theme might live<a href= +"#f239"><sup>r</sup></a>.<br> +Yet, why for him the needless verse essay?<br> +His honour'd name requires no vain display:<br> +By every son of grateful <b>Ida</b> blest,<br> +It finds an echo in each youthful breast;<br> +A fame beyond the glories of the proud,<br> +Or all the plaudits of the venal crowd.<br> +<b>Ida</b>! not yet exhausted is the theme,<br> +Nor clos'd the progress of my youthful dream.<br> +How many a friend deserves the grateful strain!<br> +What scenes of childhood still unsung remain!<br> +Yet let me hush this echo of the past,<br> +This parting song, the dearest and the last;<br> +And brood in secret o'er those hours of joy,<br> +To me a silent and a sweet employ,<br> +While, future hope and fear alike unknown,<br> +I think with pleasure on the past alone;<br> +Yes, to the past alone, my heart confine,<br> +And chase the phantom of what once was mine.<br> +<b>Ida</b>! still o'er thy hills in joy preside,<br> +And proudly steer through Time's eventful tide:<br> +Still may thy blooming Sons thy name revere,<br> +Smile in thy bower, but quit thee with a tear;--<br> +That tear, perhaps, the fondest which will flow,<br> +O'er their last scene of happiness below:<br> +Tell me, ye hoary few, who glide along,<br> +The feeble Veterans of some former throng,<br> +Whose friends, like Autumn leaves by tempests whirl'd,<br> +Are swept for ever from this busy world;<br> +Revolve the fleeting moments of your youth,<br> +While Care has yet withheld her venom'd tooth<a href= +"#f240"><sup>s</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr240">Say</a> if Remembrance days like these +endears,<br> +Beyond the rapture of succeeding years?<br> +Say, can Ambition's fever'd dream bestow<br> +So sweet a balm to soothe your hours of woe?<br> +Can Treasures hoarded for some thankless Son,<br> +Can Royal Smiles, or Wreaths by slaughter won,<br> +Can Stars or Ermine, Man's maturer Toys,<br> +(For glittering baubles are not left to Boys,)<br> +Recall one scene so much belov'd to view,<br> +As those where Youth her garland twin'd for you?<br> +Ah, no! amid the gloomy calm of age<br> +You turn with faltering hand life's varied page,<br> +Peruse the record of your days on earth,<br> +Unsullied only where it marks your birth;<br> +Still, lingering, pause above each chequer'd leaf,<br> +And blot with Tears the sable lines of Grief;<br> +Where Passion o'er the theme her mantle threw,<br> +Or weeping Virtue sigh'd a faint adieu;<br> +But bless the scroll which fairer words adorn,<br> +Trac'd by the rosy finger of the Morn;<br> +<a name="fr241">When</a> Friendship bow'd before the shrine of +truth,<br> +And Love, without his pinion<a href="#f241"><sup>20</sup></a>, +smil'd on Youth.</td> +<td width="50%"><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +100<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +110<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +120<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +130<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +140<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +150<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +160<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +170<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +180<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +190<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +200<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +210<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +220<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +230<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +240<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +250<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +260<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +270<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +280<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +290<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +300<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + 310<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +320<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +330<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +340<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +350<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +360<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +370<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +380<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +390<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +400<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +410<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Childhood footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f204"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The words, "that schoolboy +thing," etc. (see letter to H. Drury, Jan. 8, 1808), evidently +apply, not as Moore intimates, to this period, but to the lines +<i>On a Change of Masters</i>, etc., July, 1805 (see letter to W. +Bankes, March 6, 1807).<br> + <a href="#section49">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f206"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Hence! thou unvarying song, of varied loves,<br> + Which youth commends, maturer age reproves;<br> + Which every rhyming bard repeats by rote,<br> + By thousands echo'd to the self-same note!<br> + Tir'd of the dull, unceasing, copious strain,<br> + My soul is panting to be free again.<br> + Farewell! ye nymphs, propitious to my verse,<br> + Some other Damon, will your charms rehearse;<br> + Some other paint his pangs, in hope of bliss,<br> + Or dwell in rapture on your nectar'd kiss.<br> + Those beauties, grateful to my ardent sight,<br> + No more entrance my senses in delight;<br> + Those bosoms, form'd of animated snow,<br> + Alike are tasteless and unfeeling now.<br> + These to some happier lover, I resign;<br> + The memory of those joys alone is mine.<br> + Censure no more shall brand my humble name,<br> + The child of passion and the fool of fame.<br> + Weary of love, of life, devoured with spleen,<br> + I rest a perfect Timon, not nineteen;<br> + World! I renounce thee! all my hope's o'ercast!<br> + One sigh I give thee, but that sigh's the last.<br> + Friends, foes, and females, now alike, adieu!<br> + Would I could add remembrance of you, too!<br> + Yet though the future, dark and cheerless gleams,<br> + The curse of memory, hovering in my dreams,<br> + Depicts with glowing pencil all those years,<br> + Ere yet, my cup, empoison'd, flow'd with tears,<br> + Still rules my senses with tyrannic sway,<br> + The past confounding with the present day.<br> +<br> + Alas! in vain I check the maddening thought;<br> + It still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought:<br> + My soul to Fancy's</i>,</blockquote> + +etc., etc., as at line 29.<br> +<a href="#fr206">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f205"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý The motto was prefixed in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr205">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f209"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Cunning with age...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr209">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f207"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Lines 43-98 were added in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i><br> + <a href="#fr207">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f212"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Nor shrunk before...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr212">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f208"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> ÝNewton Hanson relates that +on one occasion he accompanied his father to Harrow on Speech Day +to see his brother Hargreaves Hanson and Byron. + +<blockquote>"On our arrival at Harrow, we set out in search of +Hargreaves and Byron, but the latter was not at his tutor's. +Three or four lads, hearing my father's inquiries, set off at +full speed to find him. They soon discovered him, and, laughing +most heartily, called out, 'Hallo, Byron! here's a gentleman +wants you.' And what do you think? He had got on Drury's hat. I +can still remember the arch cock of Byron's eye at the hat and +then at my father, and the fun and merriment it caused him and +all of us whilst, during the day, he was perambulating the +highways and byeways of Ida with the hat on. 'Harrow Speech Day +and the Governor's Hat' was one of the standing rallying-points +for Lord Byron ever after."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr208">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f213"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Careless to soothe the pedant's furious frown,<br> + Scarcely respecting his majestic gown;<br> + By which, in vain, he gain'd a borrow'd grace,<br> + Adding new terror to his sneering face,...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr213">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f210"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý Dr. Butler, then +Head-master of Harrow. Had Byron published another edition of +these poems, it was his intention to replace these four lines by +the four which follow:-- + +<blockquote><i>"If once my muse a harsher portrait drew,<br> + Warm with her wrongs, and deentd the likeness true,<br> + By cooler judgment taught, her fault she owns,--<br> + With noble minds a fault confess'd, atones."</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<br> +See also allusion in letter to Mr. Henry Drury, June 25, 1809. +(Moore's <i>Note</i>).<br> +<a href="#fr210">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f215"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>With him for years I search'd the classic +page,<br> + Culling the treasures of the letter'd sage,...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr215">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f211"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý On the retirement of Dr. +Drury, three candidates for the vacant chair presented +themselves--Messrs. Drury, Evans, and Butler. On the first +movement to which this contest gave rise in the school, young +Wildman was at the head of the party for Mark Drury, while Byron +held himself aloof from any. Anxious, however, to have him as an +ally, one of the Drury faction said to Wildman, + +<blockquote>"Byron, I know, will not join, because he does not +choose to act second to any one, but, by giving up the leadership +to him, you may at once secure him."</blockquote> + +This Wildman did, and Byron took the command. (<i>Life</i>, p. +29.)<br> +<a href="#fr211">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f216"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot,<br> + Soon shall his shallow precepts be forgot;<br> + No more his mention shall my pen degrade--<br> + My tribute to his name's already paid...</i><br> +<br> +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]</blockquote> + +Another variant for a new edition ran-- + +<blockquote><i>Another fills his magisterial chair;<br> + Reluctant Ida owns a stranger's care;<br> + Oh! may like honours crown his future name:<br> + If such his virtues, such shall be his fame.</i><br> +<br> +<i>MS. M.</i></blockquote> + +<br> +<a href="#fr216">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f214"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span> ÝDr. Drury. This most able +and excellent man retired from his situation in March, 1805, +after having resided thirty-five years at Harrow; the last twenty +as head-master; an office he held with equal honour to himself +and advantage to the very extensive school over which he +presided. Panegyric would here be superfluous: it would be +useless to enumerate qualifications which were never doubted. A +considerable contest took place between three rival candidates +for his vacant chair: of this I can only say-- + +<blockquote><i>Si mea cum vestris valuissent vota, Pelasgi!<br> + Non foret ambiguus tanti certaminis hares.</i></blockquote> + +[Byron's letters from Harrow contain the same high praise of Dr. +Drury. In one, of November 2, 1804, he says, + +<blockquote>"There is so much of the gentleman, so much mildness, +and nothing of pedantry in his character, that I cannot help +liking him, and will remember his instructions with gratitude as +long as I live."</blockquote> + +A week after, he adds, + +<blockquote>"I revere Dr. Drury. I dread offending him; not, +however, through fear, but the respect I bear him makes me +unhappy when I am under his displeasure."</blockquote> + +Dr. Drury has related the secret of the influence he obtained: +the glance which told him that the lad was "a wild mountain +colt," told him also that he could be "led with a silken +string."]<br> +<a href="#fr214">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f222"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Joannes! best and dearest of my +friends....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr222">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f217"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span> Ý This alludes to a +character printed in a former private edition [<i>P. on V. +Occasions</i>] for the perusal of some friends, which, with many +other pieces, is withheld from the present volume. To draw the +attention of the public to insignificance would be deservedly +reprobated; and another reason, though not of equal consequence, +may be given in the following couplet:-- + +<blockquote>"Satire or sense, alas! can Sporus feel?<br> + Who breaks a Butterfly upon a wheel?"</blockquote> + +<i>(Prologue to the Satires</i>: Pope.)<br> +<br> +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>, p. 154, <i>note</i>]<br> +(See the lines "On a Change of Masters at a Great Public School," +<i>ante</i>, p. 16.)<br> +<br> +The following lines, attached to the Newstead MS. draft of +<i>Childish Recollections</i>, are aimed at Pomposus:-- + +<blockquote>"Just half a Pedagogue, and half a Fop,<br> + Not formed to grace the pulpit, but the Shop;<br> + The <i>Counter</i>, not the <i>Desk</i>, should be his +place,<br> + Who deals out precepts, as if dealing Lace;<br> + Servile in mind, from Elevation proud,<br> + In argument, less sensible than loud,<br> + Through half the continent, the Coxcomb's been,<br> + And stuns you with the Wonders he has seen:<br> + '<i>How</i> in Pompeii's vault he found the page,<br> + Of some long lost, and long lamented Sage,<br> + And doubtless he the Letters would have trac'd,<br> + Had they not been by age and dust effac'd:<br> + This single specimen will serve to shew,<br> + The weighty lessons of this reverend Beau,<br> + Bombast in vain would want of Genius cloke,<br> + For feeble fires evaporate in smoke;<br> + A Boy, o'er Boys he holds a trembling reign,<br> + More fit than they to seek some School again."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr217">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f223"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Could aught inspire me with poetic fire,<br> + For thee, alone, I'd strike the hallow'd lyre;<br> + But, to some abler hand, the task I wave,<br> + Whose strains immortal may outlive the +grave<...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr223">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f218"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 9:</span>Ý Lines 121-243 were added in +<i>Hours of Idleness</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr218">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f224"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Our lusty limbs.</i><br> +<br> +<i>[P. on V. Occasions.]</i><br> +<br> + <i>--the buoyant waters bore.</i><br> +<br> +<i>[Hours of Idleness.]</i>...</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr224">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f220"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 10:</span> Ý During a rebellion at +Harrow, the poet prevented the school-room from being burnt down, +by pointing out to the boys the names of their fathers and +grandfathers on the walls. (Medwin's <i>Conversations</i> (1824), +p. 85.)<br> +<br> +Byron elsewhere thus describes his usual course of life while at +Harrow: "always cricketing, rebelling, <i>rowing</i>, and in all +manner of mischiefs." One day he tore down the gratings from the +window of the hall; and when asked by Dr. Butler his reason for +the outrage, coolly answered, "because they darkened the +room."--<i>Life</i>, p. 29.<br> +<a href="#fr220">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f227"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Thus did you save that life I scarcely prize--<br> + A life unworthy such a sacrifice.<br> + Oh! when my breast forgets the generous +deed....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr227">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f221"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 11:</span> Ý "Lord Clare." (Annotated +copy of <i>P. on V. Occasions</i> in the British Museum.)<br> +(Lines 243-264, as the note in Byron's handwriting explains, were +originally intended to apply to Lord Clare. In <i>Hours of +Idleness</i> "Joannes" became "Alonzo," and the same lines were +employed to celebrate the memory of his friend the Hon. John +Wingfield, of the Coldstream Guards, brother to Richard, fourth +Viscount Powerscourt. He died at Coimbra in 1811, in his +twentieth year. Byron at one time gave him the preference over +all other friends.)<br> +<a href="#fr221">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f229"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>For ever to possess a friend in thee,<br> + Was bliss unhop'd, though not unsought by me;<br> + Thy softer soul was form'd for love alone,<br> + To ruder passions and to hate unknown;<br> + Thy mind, in union with thy beauteous form,<br> + Was gentle, but unfit to stem the storm;<br> + That face, an index of celestial worth,<br> + Proclaim'd a heart abstracted from the earth.<br> + Oft, when depress'd with sad, foreboding gloom,<br> + I sat reclin'd upon our favourite tomb,<br> + I've seen those sympathetic eyes o'erflow<br> + With kind compassion for thy comrade's woe;<br> + Or, when less mournful subjects form'd our themes,<br> + We tried a thousand fond romantic schemes,<br> + Oft hast thou sworn, in friendship's soothing tone.<br> + Whatever wish was mine, must be thine own.<br> + The next can boast to lead in senates fit,<br> + A Spartan firmness,--with Athenian wit;<br> + Tho' yet, in embryo, these perfections shine,<br> + Clarus! thy father's fame will soon be +thine....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<br> +A remonstrance which Lord Clare addressed to him at school; was +found among his papers (as were most of the notes of his early +favourites), and on the back of it was an endorsement which is a +fresh testimony of his affection:-- + +<blockquote>"This and another letter were written at Harrow, by +my <i>then</i> and, I hope, <i>ever</i> beloved friend, Lord +Clare, when we were both schoolboys; and sent to my study in +consequence of some <i>childish</i> misunderstanding,--the only +one which ever arose between us. It was of short duration, and I +retain this note solely for the purpose of submitting it to his +perusal, that we may smile over the recollection of the +insignificance of our first and last quarrel."</blockquote> + +See, also, Byron's account of his accidental meeting with Lord +Clare in Italy in 1821, as recorded in <i>Detached Thoughts</i>, +Nov. 5, 1821; in letters to Moore, March 1 and June 8, 1822; and +Mme. Guiccioli's description of his emotion on seeing Clare +(<i>My Recollections of Lord Byron</i>, ed. 1869, p. 156).]<br> +<a href="#fr229">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f225"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 12:</span> Ý The Rev. John Cecil +Tattersall, B.A., of Christ Church, Oxford, who died December 8, +1812, at Hall's Place, Kent, aged twenty-three.<br> +<a href="#fr225">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f232"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Where is the restless fool, would wish for +more?...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr232">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f226"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 13:</span> Ý Footnote 13: The +"factious strife" was brought on by the breaking up of school, +and the dismissal of some volunteers from drill, both happening +at the same hour. The butt-end of a musket was aimed at Byron's +head, and would have felled him to the ground, but for the +interposition of Tattersall.--<i>Life</i>, p. 25.<br> +<a href="#fr226">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f235"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>As speakers, each supports a rival name,<br> + Though neither seeks to damn the other's fame,<br> + Pomposus sits, unequal to decide,<br> + With youthful candour, we the palm divide...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr235">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f228"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 14:</span> Ý John Fitzgibbon, second +Earl of Clare (1792-1851), afterwards Governor of Bombay, of whom +Byron said, in 1822, + +<blockquote>"I have always loved him better than any <i>male</i> +thing in the world." "I never," was his language in 1821, "hear +the word '<i>Clare</i>' without a beating of the heart even +<i>now</i>; and I write it with the feelings of 1803-4-5, ad +infinitum."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr228">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f236"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Yet in the retrospection finds relief,<br> + And revels in the luxury of grief...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr236">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f230"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 15:</span> Ý John Fitzgibbon, first +Earl of Clare (1749-1802), became Attorney-General and Lord +Chancellor of Ireland. In the latter years of the independent +Irish Parliament, he took an active part in politics in +opposition to Grattan and the national party, and was +distinguished as a powerful, if bitter, speaker. He was made Earl +of Clare in 1795.<br> +<a href="#fr230">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f238"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote q:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>When, yet a novice in the mimic art,<br> + I feign'd the transports of a vengeful heart;<br> + When, as the Royal Slave, I trod the stage,<br> + To vent in Zanga, more than mortal rage;<br> + The praise of Probus, made me feel more proud,<br> + Than all the plaudits of the list'ning crowd.<br> +<br> + Ah! vain endeavour in this childish strain<br> + To soothe the woes of which I thus complain!<br> + What can avail this fruitless loss of time,<br> + To measure sorrow, in a jingling rhyme!<br> + No social solace from a friend, is near,<br> + And heartless strangers drop no feeling tear.<br> + I seek not joy in Woman's sparkling eye,<br> + The smiles of Beauty cannot check the sigh.<br> + Adieu, thou world! thy pleasure's still a dream,<br> + Thy virtue, but a visionary theme;<br> + Thy years of vice, on years of folly roll,<br> + Till grinning death assigns the destin'd goal,</i><br> + <i>Where all are hastening to the dread abode,<br> + To meet the judgment of a righteous God;<br> + Mix'd in the concourse of a thoughtless throng,<br> + A mourner, midst of mirth, I glide along;<br> + A wretched, isolated, gloomy thing,<br> + Curst by reflection's deep corroding sting;<br> + But not that mental sting, which stabs within,<br> + The dark avenger of unpunish'd sin;<br> + The silent shaft, which goads the guilty wretch<br> + Extended on a rack's untiring stretch:<br> + Conscience that sting, that shaft to him supplies--<br> + His mind the rack, from which he ne'er can rise,<br> + For me, whatever my folly, or my fear,<br> + One cheerful comfort still is cherish'd here.<br> + No dread internal, haunts my hours of rest,<br> + No dreams of injured innocence infest;<br> + Of hope, of peace, of almost all bereft,<br> + Conscience, my last but welcome guest, is left.<br> + Slander's empoison'd breath, may blast my name,<br> + Envy delights to blight the buds of fame:<br> + Deceit may chill the current of my blood,<br> + And freeze affection's warm impassion'd flood;<br> + Presaging horror, darken every sense,<br> + Even here will conscience be my best defence;<br> + My bosom feeds no "worm which ne'er can die:"<br> + Not crimes I mourn, but happiness gone by.<br> + Thus crawling on with many a reptile vile,<br> + My heart is bitter, though my cheek may smile;<br> + No more with former bliss, my heart is glad;<br> + Hope yields to anguish and my soul is sad;<br> + From fond regret, no future joy can save;<br> + Remembrance slumbers only in the grave....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr238">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f231"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 16:</span> Ý George John, fifth Earl +of Delawarr.-- + +<blockquote>"I am happy enough, and comfortable here," says +Byron, in a letter from Harrow of Oct. 25, 1804. "My friends are +not numerous, but select. Among the principal, I rank Lord +Delawarr, who is very amiable, and my particular friend."--<br> + "Nov. 2, 1804. Lord Delawarr is considerably younger than me, +but the most good-tempered, amiable, clever fellow in the +universe. To all which he adds the quality (a good one in the +eyes of women) of being remarkably handsome. Delawarr and myself +are, in a manner, connected; for one of my forefathers, in +Charles I.'s time, married into their family."</blockquote> + +The allusion in the text to their subsequent quarrel, receives +further light from a letter which the poet addressed to Lord +Clare under date, February 6, 1807. (See, too, lines "To George, +Earl Delawarr," p. 126.) The first Lord Byron was twice married. +His first wife was Cecilie, widow of Sir Francis Bindlose, and +daughter of Thomas, third Lord Delawarr. He died childless, and +was succeeded by his brother Richard, the poet's ancestor. His +younger brother, Sir Robert Byron, married Lucy, another daughter +of the third Lord Delawarr.<br> +<a href="#fr231">return to this poem</a><br> +<a href="#f20">cross reference: return to footnote of "To +D——"</a><br> +<a href="#f274">cross reference: return to footnote of "To +George, Earl Delawarr"</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f239"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote r:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>The song might perish, but the theme must +live...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr239">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f233"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 17:</span> Ý Edward Noel Long, who was +drowned by the foundering of a transport on the voyage to Lisbon +with his regiment, in 1809. (See lines <i>To Edward Noel Long, +Esq., post</i>, p. 184.)<br> +<a href="#fr233">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f240"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote s:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>--his venom'd tooth....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr240">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f234"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 18:</span> Ý This alludes to the +public speeches delivered at the school where the author was +educated.<br> +<a href="#fr234">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f237"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 19:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"My qualities were much more oratorical than +poetical, and Dr. Drury, my grand patron, had a great notion that +I should turn out an orator from my fluency, my turbulence, my +voice, my copiousness of declamation, and my action. I remember +that my first declamation astonished Dr. Drury into some unwonted +(for he was economical of such) and sudden compliments, before +the declaimers at our first rehearsal."<br> +<br> + <i>Byron Diary</i>.<br> +<br> + "I certainly was much pleased with Lord Byron's attitude, +gesture, and delivery, as well as with his composition. To my +surprise, he suddenly diverged from the written composition, with +a boldness and rapidity sufficient to alarm me, lest he should +fail in memory as to the conclusion. I questioned him, why he had +altered his declamation? He declared he had made no alteration, +and did not know, in speaking, that he had deviated from it one +letter. I believed him, and from a knowledge of his temperament, +am convinced that he was hurried on to expressions and colourings +more striking than what his pen had expressed."<br> +<br> + <b>Dr. Drury</b>, <i>Life</i>, p. 20.<br> +<a href="#fr237">return</a></blockquote> +</td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f241"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 20:</span> Ý "L'Amitié est +l'Amour sans ailes," is a French proverb. (See the lines so +entitled, p. 220.)<br> +<a href="#fr241">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section50"></a>Answer to a Beautiful Poem, Written by +Montgomery, Author of <i>The Wanderer in Switzerland</i>, etc., +entitled <i>The Common Lot</i> <a href="#f242"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Montgomery! true, the common lot<br> + Of mortals lies in Lethe's wave;<br> +Yet some shall never be forgot,<br> + Some shall exist beyond the grave.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + "Unknown the region of his birth,"<br> + The hero<a href="#f243"><sup>2</sup></a> rolls the tide of +war;<br> +<a name="fr243">Yet</a> not unknown his martial worth,<br> + Which glares a meteor from afar.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + His joy or grief, his weal or woe,<br> + Perchance may 'scape the page of fame;<br> +Yet nations, now unborn, will know<br> + The record of his deathless name.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + The Patriot's and the Poet's frame<br> + Must share the common tomb of all:<br> +Their glory will not sleep the same;<br> + <i>That</i> will arise, though Empires fall.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + The lustre of a Beauty's eye<br> + Assumes the ghastly stare of death;<br> +The fair, the brave, the good must die,<br> + And sink the yawning grave beneath.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Once more, the speaking eye revives,<br> + Still beaming through the lover's strain;<br> +For Petrarch's Laura still survives:<br> + She died, but ne'er will die again.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + The rolling seasons pass away,<br> + And Time, untiring, waves his wing;<br> +Whilst honour's laurels ne'er decay,<br> + But bloom in fresh, unfading spring.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + All, all must sleep in grim repose,<br> + Collected in the silent tomb;<br> +The old, the young, with friends and foes,<br> + Fest'ring alike in shrouds, consume.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + The mouldering marble lasts its day,<br> + Yet falls at length an useless fane;<br> +To Ruin's ruthless fangs a prey,<br> + The wrecks of pillar'd Pride remain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + What, though the sculpture be destroy'd,<br> + From dark Oblivion meant to guard;<br> +A bright renown shall be enjoy'd,<br> + By those, whose virtues claim reward.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + Then do not say the common lot<br> + Of all lies deep in Lethe's wave;<br> +Some few who ne'er will be forgot<br> + Shall burst the bondage of the grave.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f242"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Montgomery (James), 1771-1854, poet and hymn-writer, +published + +<ul> +<li><i>Prison Amusements</i> (1797),</li> + +<li><i>The Ocean; a Poem</i> (1805),</li> + +<li><i>The Wanderer of Switzerland, and other Poems</i> +(1806),</li> + +<li><i>The West Indies, and other Poems</i> (1810),</li> + +<li><i>Songs of Sion</i> (1822),</li> + +<li><i>The Christian Psalmist</i> (1825),</li> + +<li><i>The Pelican Island, and other Poems</i> (1827),</li> +</ul> + +<a name="c2"><i>etc.</i></a> (<i>vide post</i>, <a href= +"#c1"><i>English Bards</i>, <i>etc.</i>, line 418</a> (click c2 +to return here), and <a href="#f574"><i>note</i></a>.<br> +<br> + <a href="#section50">return to footnote mark in this +poem</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f243"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý No particular hero is here alluded to. The exploits +of Bayard, Nemours, Edward the Black Prince, and, in more modern +times, the fame of Marlborough, Frederick the Great, Count Saxe, +Charles of Sweden, etc., are familiar to every historical reader, +but the exact places of their birth are known to a very small +proportion of their admirers.<br> +<a href="#fr243">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section51">Love's Last Adieu</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><img src="images/BG5.gif" width="152" height="24" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Aeì d' aeí me pheugei."> +[Pseud.] Anacreon, <img src="images/BG6.gif" width="74" height="22" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Eis chruson"><br> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + The roses of Love glad the garden of life,<br> + Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,<br> +Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,<br> + Or prunes them for ever, in Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,<br> + In vain do we vow for an age to be true;<br> +The chance of an hour may command us to part,<br> + Or Death disunite us, in Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast<a +href="#f244"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr244">Will</a> whisper, "Our meeting we yet may +renew:"<br> +With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt,<br> + Nor taste we the poison, of Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Oh! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,<br> + Love twin'd round their childhood his flow'rs as they grew;<br> +They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,<br> + Till chill'd by the winter of Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way,<br> + Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue?<br> +Yet why do I ask?--to distraction a prey,<br> + Thy reason has perish'd, with Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Oh! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?<br> + From cities to caves of the forest he flew:<br> +There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;<br> + The mountains reverberate Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Now Hate rules a heart which in Love's easy chains,<br> + Once Passion's tumultuous blandishments knew;<br> +Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,<br> + He ponders, in frenzy, on Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!<br> + His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,<br> +Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,<br> + And dreads not the anguish of Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast;<br> + No more, with Love's former devotion, we sue:<br> +He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast;<br> + The shroud of affection is Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + In this life of probation, for rapture divine,<br> + Astrea<a href="#f245"><sup>1</sup></a> declares that some +penance is due;<br> +<a name="fr245">From</a> him, who has worshipp'd at Love's gentle +shrine,<br> + The atonement is ample, in Love's last adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light<br> + Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew:<br> +His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,<br> + His cypress, the garland of Love's last adieu!</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Adieu footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f245"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The Goddess of +Justice.<br> +<br> + <a href="#fr245">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f244"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Still, hope-beaming peace...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr244">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section52"></a>Lines<a href="#f246"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a> Addressed to the Rev. +J.T. Becher<a href="#f247"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>, on his advising the +Author to mix more with Society</h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Dear <b>Becher</b>, you tell me to mix with mankind;<br> + I cannot deny such a precept is wise;<br> +But retirement accords with the tone of my mind:<br> + I will not descend to a world I despise.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Did the Senate or Camp my exertions require,<br> + Ambition might prompt me, at once, to go forth;<br> +When Infancy's years of probation expire,<br> + Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + The fire, in the cavern of Etna, conceal'd,<br> + Still mantles unseen in its secret recess;<br> +At length, in a volume terrific, reveal'd,<br> + No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Oh! thus, the desire, in my bosom, for fame<a href= +"#f248"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr248">Bids</a> me live, but to hope for Posterity's +praise.<br> +Could I soar with the Phoenix on pinions of flame,<br> + With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,<br> + What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave!<br> +Their lives did not end, when they yielded their breath,<br> + Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave<a href= +"#f249"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="fr249">6.</a><br> +<br> + Yet why should I mingle in Fashion's full herd?<br> + Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules?<br> +Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd?<br> + Why search for delight, in the friendship of fools?<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + I have tasted the sweets, and the bitters, of love,<br> + In friendship I early was taught to believe;<br> +My passion the matrons of prudence reprove,<br> + I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + To me what is wealth?--it may pass in an hour,<br> + If Tyrants prevail, or if Fortune should frown:<br> +To me what is title?--the phantom of power;<br> + To me what is fashion?--I seek but renown.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Deceit is a stranger, as yet, to my soul;<br> + I, still, am unpractised to varnish the truth:<br> +Then, why should I live in a hateful controul?<br> + Why waste, upon folly, the days of my youth?<br> +<br> +<br> + 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Becher footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f247"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The Rev. John Thomas +Becher (1770-1848) was Vicar of Rumpton and Midsomer Norton, +Notts., and made the acquaintance of Byron when he was living at +Southwell. To him was submitted an early copy of the +<i>Quarto</i>, and on his remonstrance at the tone of some of the +verses, the whole edition (save one or two copies) was burnt. +Becher assisted in the revision of <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>, +published in 1807. He was in 1818 appointed Prebendary of +Southwell, and, all his life, took an active interest and +prominent part in the administration of the poor laws and the +welfare of the poor. (See Byron's letters to him of February 26 +and March 28, 1808.)<br> +<a href="#section52">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f246"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>To the Rev. J. T. Becher....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#section52">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f248"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Oh! such the desire...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr248">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f249"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>--the gloom of the grave....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr249">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section53">Answer to some Elegant Verses sent by a +Friend to the Author, complaining that one of his descriptions +was rather too warmly drawn</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>"But if any old Lady, Knight, Priest, or +Physician,<br> + Should condemn me for printing a second edition;<br> + If good Madam Squintum my work should abuse,<br> + May I venture to give her a smack of my muse?"<br> +<br> + Anstey's 'New Bath Guide', p. 169.</i><br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + Candour compels me, <b>Becher</b>! to commend<br> + The verse, which blends the censor with the friend;<br> + Your strong yet just reproof extorts applause<br> + <a name="fr250">From</a> me, the heedless and imprudent cause<a +href="#f250"><sup>a</sup></a>;<br> + For this wild error, which pervades my strain<a href= +"#f251"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr251">I</a> sue for pardon,--must I sue in vain?<br> + The wise sometimes from Wisdom's ways depart;<br> + Can youth then hush the dictates of the heart?<br> + Precepts of prudence curb, but can't controul,<br> + The fierce emotions of the flowing soul.<br> + When Love's delirium haunts the glowing mind,<br> + Limping Decorum lingers far behind;<br> + Vainly the dotard mends her prudish pace,<br> + Outstript and vanquish'd in the mental chase.<br> + The young, the old, have worn the chains of love;<br> + Let those, they ne'er confined, my lay reprove;<br> + Let those, whose souls contemn the pleasing power,<br> + Their censures on the hapless victim shower.<br> + Oh! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song,<br> + The ceaseless echo of the rhyming throng,<br> + Whose labour'd lines, in chilling numbers flow,<br> + To paint a pang the author ne'er can know!<br> + The artless Helicon, I boast, is youth;--<br> + My Lyre, the Heart--my Muse, the simple Truth.<br> + Far be't from me the "virgin's mind" to "taint:"<br> + Seduction's dread is here no slight restraint:<br> + The maid whose virgin breast is void of guile,<br> + Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile,<br> + Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,<br> + Firm in her virtue's strength, yet not severe;<br> + She, whom a conscious grace shall thus refine,<br> + Will ne'er be "tainted" by a strain of mine.<br> + But, for the nymph whose premature desires<br> + Torment her bosom with unholy fires,<br> + No net to snare her willing heart is spread;<br> + She would have fallen, though she ne'er had read.<br> + For me, I fain would please the chosen few,<br> + Whose souls, to feeling and to nature true,<br> + Will spare the childish verse, and not destroy<br> + The light effusions of a heedless boy<a href= +"#f252"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> + <a name="fr252">I</a> seek not glory from the senseless +crowd;<br> + Of fancied laurels, I shall ne'er be proud;<br> + Their warmest plaudits I would scarcely prize,<br> + Their sneers or censures, I alike despise.<br> +<br> + November 26, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f250"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>the heedless and unworthy +cause...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr250">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f251"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>For this sole error...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr251">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f252"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>The light effusions of an amorous +boy...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr252">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp1">Contents p.2</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section54"></a>Elegy on Newstead Abbey<a href= +"#f253"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>"It is the voice of years, that are gone! they +roll before me, with all their deeds."<br> +<br> + Ossian<a href="#f254"><sup>a</sup></a>.</i><br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<a name="fr254">1.</a><br> +<br> + <b>Newstead</b>! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome!<br> +Religion's shrine! repentant <b>Henry's</b><a href= +"#f255"><sup>2</sup></a> pride!<br> +<a name="fr255">Of</a> Warriors, Monks, and Dames the cloister'd +tomb,<br> + Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide,<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Hail to thy pile! more honour'd in thy fall,<br> + Than modern mansions, in their pillar'd state;<br> +Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,<br> + Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + No mail-clad Serfs<a href="#f256"><sup>3</sup></a>, obedient to +their Lord,<br> + <a name="fr256">In</a> grim array, the crimson cross<a href= +"#f257"><sup>4</sup></a> demand;<br> +<a name="fr257">Or</a> gay assemble round the festive board,<br> + Their chief's retainers, an immortal band.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye<br> + Retrace their progress, through the lapse of time;<br> +Marking each ardent youth, ordain'd to die,<br> + A votive pilgrim, in Judea's clime.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + But not from thee, dark pile! departs the Chief;<br> + His feudal realm in other regions lay:<br> +In thee the wounded conscience courts relief,<br> + Retiring from the garish blaze of day.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Yes! in thy gloomy cells and shades profound,<br> + The monk abjur'd a world, he ne'er could view;<br> +Or blood-stain'd Guilt repenting, solace found,<br> + Or Innocence, from stern Oppression, flew.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + A Monarch bade thee from that wild arise,<br> + Where Sherwood's outlaws, once, were wont to prowl;<br> +And Superstition's crimes, of various dyes,<br> + Sought shelter in the Priest's protecting cowl.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Where, now, the grass exhales a murky dew,<br> + The humid pall of life-extinguish'd clay,<br> +In sainted fame, the sacred Fathers grew,<br> + Nor raised their pious voices, but to pray.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr258">Where</a>, now, the bats their wavering wings +extend,<br> + Soon as the gloaming<a href="#f258"><sup>5</sup></a> spreads her +waning shade<a href="#f259"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr259">The</a> choir did, oft, their mingling vespers +blend,<br> + <a name="fr260">Or</a> matin orisons to Mary<a href= +"#f260"><sup>6</sup></a> paid.<br> +<br> +<br> +10.<br> +<br> + Years roll on years; to ages, ages yield;<br> + Abbots to Abbots, in a line, succeed:<br> +Religion's charter, their protecting shield,<br> + Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + One holy <b>Henry</b> rear'd the Gothic walls,<br> + And bade the pious inmates rest in peace;<br> +Another <b>Henry</b><a href="#f261"><sup>7</sup></a> the kind +gift recalls,<br> + <a name="fr261">And</a> bids devotion's hallow'd echoes +cease.<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + Vain is each threat, or supplicating prayer;<br> + He drives them exiles from their blest abode,<br> +<a name="fr262">To</a> roam a dreary world, in deep despair--<br> + No friend, no home, no refuge, but their God<a href= +"#f262"><sup>8</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 13.<br> +<br> + Hark! how the hall, resounding to the strain,<br> + Shakes with the martial music's novel din!<br> +The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign,<br> + High crested banners wave thy walls within.<br> +<br> +<br> + 14.<br> +<br> + Of changing sentinels the distant hum,<br> + The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnish'd arms,<br> +The braying trumpet, and the hoarser drum,<br> + Unite in concert with increas'd alarms.<br> +<br> +<br> + 15.<br> +<br> + An abbey once, a regal fortress<a href="#f263"><sup>9</sup></a> +now,<br> + <a name="fr263">Encircled</a> by insulting rebel powers;<br> +War's dread machines o'erhang thy threat'ning brow,<br> + And dart destruction, in sulphureous showers.<br> +<br> +<br> + 16.<br> +<br> + Ah! vain defence! the hostile traitor's siege,<br> + Though oft repuls'd, by guile o'ercomes the brave;<br> +His thronging foes oppress the faithful Liege,<br> + Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave.<br> +<br> +<br> + 17.<br> +<br> + Not unaveng'd the raging Baron yields;<br> + The blood of traitors smears the purple plain;<br> +Unconquer'd still, his falchion there he wields,<br> + And days of glory, yet, for him remain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 18.<br> +<br> + Still, in that hour, the warrior wish'd to strew<br> + Self-gather'd laurels on a self-sought grave;<br> +But Charles' protecting genius hither flew,<br> + The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save.<br> +<br> +<br> + 19.<br> +<br> + Trembling, she snatch'd him<a href="#f264"><sup>10</sup></a> +from th' unequal strife,<br> + <a name="fr264">In</a> other fields the torrent to repel;<br> +<a name="fr265">For</a> nobler combats, here, reserv'd his +life,<br> + To lead the band, where godlike <b>Falkland</b><a href= +"#f265"><sup>11</sup></a> fell.<br> +<br> +<br> +20.<br> +<br> + From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given,<br> + While dying groans their painful requiem sound,<br> +Far different incense, now, ascends to Heaven,<br> + Such victims wallow on the gory ground.<br> +<br> +<br> + 21.<br> +<br> + There many a pale and ruthless Robber's corse,<br> + Noisome and ghast, defiles thy sacred sod;<br> +O'er mingling man, and horse commix'd with horse,<br> + Corruption's heap, the savage spoilers trod.<br> +<br> +<br> + 22.<br> +<br> + Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread,<br> + Ransack'd resign, perforce, their mortal mould:<br> +From ruffian fangs, escape not e'en the dead,<br> + Racked from repose, in search for buried gold.<br> +<br> +<br> + 23.<br> +<br> + Hush'd is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre,<br> + The minstrel's palsied hand reclines in death;<br> +<a name="fr266">No</a> more he strikes the quivering chords with +fire,<br> + Or sings the glories of the martial wreath<a href= +"#f266"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 24.<br> +<br> + At length the sated murderers, gorged with prey,<br> + Retire: the clamour of the fight is o'er;<br> +Silence again resumes her awful sway,<br> + And sable Horror guards the massy door.<br> +<br> +<br> + 25.<br> +<br> + Here, Desolation holds her dreary court:<br> + What satellites declare her dismal reign!<br> +Shrieking their dirge, ill-omen'd birds resort,<br> + To flit their vigils, in the hoary fane.<br> +<br> +<br> + 26.<br> +<br> + Soon a new Morn's restoring beams dispel<br> + The clouds of Anarchy from Britain's skies;<br> +The fierce Usurper seeks his native hell,<br> + And Nature triumphs, as the Tyrant dies.<br> +<br> +<br> + 27.<br> +<br> + With storms she welcomes his expiring groans;<br> + Whirlwinds, responsive, greet his labouring breath;<br> +<a name="fr267">Earth</a> shudders, as her caves receive his +bones,<br> + Loathing<a href="#f267"><sup>12</sup></a> the offering of so +dark a death.<br> +<br> +<br> + 28.<br> +<br> + The legal Ruler<a href="#f268"><sup>13</sup></a> now resumes the +helm,<br> + <a name="fr268">He</a> guides through gentle seas, the prow of +state;<br> +Hope cheers, with wonted smiles, the peaceful realm,<br> + And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied Hate.<br> +<br> +<br> + 29.<br> +<br> + The gloomy tenants, Newstead! of thy cells,<br> + Howling, resign their violated nest<a href= +"#f269"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr269">Again</a>, the Master on his tenure dwells,<br> + Enjoy'd, from absence, with enraptured zest.<br> +<br> +<br> + 30.<br> +<br> + Vassals, within thy hospitable pale,<br> + Loudly carousing, bless their Lord's return;<br> +Culture, again, adorns the gladdening vale,<br> + And matrons, once lamenting, cease to mourn.<br> +<br> +<br> + 31.<br> +<br> + A thousand songs, on tuneful echo, float,<br> + Unwonted foliage mantles o'er the trees;<br> +And, hark! the horns proclaim a mellow note,<br> + The hunters' cry hangs lengthening on the breeze.<br> +<br> +<br> + 32.<br> +<br> + Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake;<br> + What fears! what anxious hopes! attend the chase!<br> +The dying stag seeks refuge in the lake;<br> + Exulting shouts announce the finish'd race.<br> +<br> +<br> + 33.<br> +<br> + Ah happy days! too happy to endure!<br> + Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew:<br> +No splendid vices glitter'd to allure;<br> + Their joys were many, as their cares were few.<br> +<br> +<br> + 34.<br> +<br> + From these descending, Sons to Sires succeed;<br> + Time steals along, and Death uprears his dart;<br> +Another Chief impels the foaming steed,<br> + Another Crowd pursue the panting hart.<br> +<br> +<br> + 35.<br> +<br> + Newstead! what saddening change of scene is thine!<br> + Thy yawning arch betokens slow decay;<br> +The last and youngest of a noble line,<br> + Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway.<br> +<br> +<br> + 36.<br> +<br> + Deserted now, he scans thy gray worn towers;<br> + Thy vaults, where dead of feudal ages sleep;<br> +Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers;<br> + These, these he views, and views them but to weep.<br> +<br> +<br> + 37.<br> +<br> + Yet are his tears no emblem of regret:<br> + Cherish'd Affection only bids them flow;<br> +Pride, Hope, and Love, forbid him to forget,<br> + But warm his bosom, with impassion'd glow.<br> +<br> +<br> + 38.<br> +<br> + Yet he prefers thee, to the gilded domes<a href= +"#f270"><sup>14</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr270">Or</a> gewgaw grottos, of the vainly great;<br> +Yet lingers 'mid thy damp and mossy tombs,<br> + Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of Fate.<br> +<br> +<br> + 39.<br> +<br> + Haply thy sun, emerging, yet, may shine,<br> + Thee to irradiate with meridian ray;<br> +<a name="fr271">Hours,</a> splendid as the past, may still be +thine,<br> + And bless thy future, as thy former day<a href= +"#f271"><sup>e</sup></a>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Newstead footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f253"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý As one poem on this +subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no +intention of inserting the following. It is now added at the +particular request of some friends.<br> +<a href="#section54">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f254"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý <i>Hours of +Idleness</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr254">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f255"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> ÝHenry II. founded Newstead +soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket.<br> +<a href="#fr255">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f259"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Soon as the twilight winds a waning +shade....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr259">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f256"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý This word is used by +Walter Scott, in his poem, <i>The Wild Huntsman</i>, as +synonymous with "vassal."<br> +<a href="#fr256">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f266"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>--of the laurel'd wreath...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr266">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f257"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý The red cross was the +badge of the Crusaders.<br> + <a href="#fr257">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f269"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Howling, forsake--...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr269">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f258"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý As "gloaming," the +Scottish word for twilight, is far more poetical, and has been +recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. +Moore in his Letters to Burns, I have ventured to use it on +account of its harmony.<br> +<a href="#fr258">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f271"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Fortune may smile upon a future line,<br> + And heaven restore an ever-cloudless day,</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr271">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f260"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý The priory was dedicated +to the Virgin.--[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>].<br> +<a href="#fr260">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f261"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span> Ý At the dissolution of the +monasteries, Henry VIII. bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John +Byron.<br> +<a href="#fr261">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f262"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span> Ý During the lifetime of +Lord Byron's predecessor in the title there was found in the lake +a large brass eagle, in the body of which were concealed a number +of ancient deeds and documents. This eagle is supposed to have +been thrown into the lake by the retreating monks.--<i>Life</i>, +p. 2, note. It is now a lectern in Southwell Minster.<br> +<a href="#fr262">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f263"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 9:</span> Ý Newstead sustained a +considerable siege in the war between Charles I. and his +parliament.<br> +<a href="#fr263">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f264"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 10:</span> Ý Lord Byron and his +brother Sir William held high commands in the royal army. The +former was general-in-chief in Ireland, lieutenant of the Tower, +and governor to James, Duke of York, afterwards the unhappy James +II.; the latter had a principal share in many actions. [<i>Vide +ante</i>, p. 3, <i>note</i> 1.]<br> +<a href="#fr264">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f265"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 11:</span> ÝLucius Cary, Lord Viscount +Falkland, the most accomplished man of his age, was killed at the +Battle of Newbury, charging in the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment +of cavalry.<br> +<a href="#fr265">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f267"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 12:</span> Ý This is an historical +fact. A violent tempest occurred immediately subsequent to the +death or interment of Cromwell, which occasioned many disputes +between his partisans and the cavaliers: both interpreted the +circumstance into divine interposition; but whether as +approbation or condemnation, we leave to the casuists of that age +to decide. I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the +subject of my poem.<br> +<a href="#fr267">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f268"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 13:</span> Ý Charles II.<br> + <a href="#fr268">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f270"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 14:</span> Ý An indication of Byron's +feelings towards Newstead in his younger days will be found in +his letter to his mother of March 6, 1809.<br> +<a href="#fr270">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section55">Hours of Idleness</a></h2> + +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section56"></a>To George, Earl Delawarr<a href= +"#f272"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Oh! yes, I will own we were dear to each other;<br> + The friendships of childhood, though fleeting, are true;<br> +The love which you felt was the love of a brother,<br> + Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But Friendship can vary her gentle dominion;<br> + The attachment of years, in a moment expires:<br> +Like Love, too, she moves on a swift-waving pinion,<br> + But glows not, like Love, with unquenchable fires.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Full oft have we wander'd through Ida together,<br> + And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow:<br> +In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather!<br> + But Winter's rude tempests are gathering now.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + No more with Affection shall Memory blending,<br> + The wonted delights of our childhood retrace:<br> +When Pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending,<br> + And what would be Justice appears a disgrace.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + However, dear George, for I still must esteem you<a href= +"#f273"><sup>b</sup></a>--<br> + <a name="fr273">The</a> few, whom I love, I can never +upbraid;<br> +The chance, which has lost, may in future redeem you,<br> + Repentance will cancel the vow you have made.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + I will not complain, and though chill'd is affection,<br> + With me no corroding resentment shall live:<br> +My bosom is calm'd by the simple reflection,<br> + That both may be wrong, and that both should forgive.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +You knew, that my soul, that my heart, my existence,<br> + If danger demanded, were wholly your own;<br> +You knew me unalter'd, by years or by distance,<br> + Devoted to love and to friendship alone.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + You knew,--but away with the vain retrospection!<br> + The bond of affection no longer endures;<br> +Too late you may droop o'er the fond recollection,<br> + And sigh for the friend, who was formerly yours.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + For the present, we part,--I will hope not for ever<a href= +"#f274"><sup>1</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr274">For</a> time and regret will restore you at +last:<br> +To forget our dissension we both should endeavour,<br> + I ask no atonement, but days like the past.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="George footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f274"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý See Byron's Letter to Lord +Clare of February 6, 1807, referred to in <a href= +"#f231"><i>note</i></a> 2, p. 100.<br> +<br> + <a href="#fr274">return to footnote mark in this poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f272"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>To——...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions, Poems O. and Translated</i>]<br> +<a href="#section56">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f273"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>However, dear S——...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>P. on V. Occasions, Poems O. and Translated</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr273">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a><br> +(<a href="#f20">Cross-reference: return to footnote of "To +D——")</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section57"></a>Damætas<a href="#f275"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>In law an infant<a href="#f276"><sup>2</sup></a>, and +in years a boy,<br> +<a name="fr276">In</a> mind a slave to every vicious joy;<br> +From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd,<br> +In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend;<br> +Vers'd in hypocrisy, while yet a child;<br> +Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild;<br> +Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool;<br> +Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school;<br> +Damætas ran through all the maze of sin,<br> +And found the goal, when others just begin:<br> +Ev'n still conflicting passions shake his soul,<br> +And bid him drain the dregs of Pleasure's bowl;<br> +But, pall'd with vice, he breaks his former chain,<br> +And what was once his bliss appears his bane.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f275"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Moore appears to have regarded these lines as +applying to Byron himself. It is, however, very unlikely that, +with all his passion for painting himself in the darkest colours, +he would have written himself down "a hypocrite." Damætas +is, probably, a satirical sketch of a friend or acquaintance. +(Compare the solemn denunciation of Lord Falkland in <i>English +Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>, lines 668-686.)<br> +<a href="#section57">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<a name="f276"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý In law, every person is an infant who has not +attained the age of twenty-one.<br> +<a href="#fr276">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section58"></a>To Marion<a href="#f277"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><b>Marion</b>! why that pensive brow<a href= +"#f278"><sup>a</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr278">What</a> disgust to life hast thou?<br> +Change that discontented air;<br> +Frowns become not one so fair.<br> +'Tis not Love disturbs thy rest,<br> +Love's a stranger to thy breast:<br> +<i>He</i>, in dimpling smiles, appears,<br> +Or mourns in sweetly timid tears;<br> +Or bends the languid eyelid down,<br> +But <i>shuns</i> the cold forbidding <i>frown</i>.<br> +Then resume thy former fire,<br> +Some will <i>love</i>, and all admire!<br> +While that icy aspect chills us,<br> +Nought but cool Indiff'rence thrills us.<br> +Would'st thou wand'ring hearts beguile,<br> +Smile, at least, or <i>seem</i> to <i>smile</i>;<br> +Eyes like <i>thine</i> were never meant<br> +To hide their orbs in dark restraint;<br> +Spite of all thou fain wouldst say,<br> +Still in <i>truant</i> beams they play.<br> +Thy lips--but here my <i>modest</i> Muse<br> +Her impulse <i>chaste</i> must needs refuse:<br> +She <i>blushes, curtsies, frowns</i>,--in short She<br> +Dreads lest the <i>Subject</i> should transport me;<br> +And flying off, in search of <i>Reason</i>,<br> +Brings Prudence back in proper season.<br> +<i>All</i> I shall, therefore, say (whate'er<a href= +"#f279"><sup>b</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr279">I</a> think, is neither here nor there,)<br> +Is, that such <i>lips</i>, of looks endearing,<br> +Were form'd for <i>better things</i> than <i>sneering</i>.<br> +Of soothing compliments divested,<br> +Advice at least's disinterested;<br> +Such is my artless song to thee,<br> +From all the flow of Flatt'ry free;<br> +Counsel like <i>mine</i> is as a brother's,<br> +<i>My</i> heart is given to some others;<br> +That is to say, unskill'd to cozen,<br> +It shares itself among a dozen.<br> + Marion, adieu! oh, pr'ythee slight not<br> +This warning, though it may delight not;<br> +And, lest my precepts be displeasing<a href= +"#f280"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr280">To</a> those who think remonstrance teazing,<br> +At once I'll tell thee our opinion,<br> +Concerning Woman's soft Dominion:<br> +Howe'er we gaze, with admiration,<br> +On eyes of blue or lips carnation;<br> +Howe'er the flowing locks attract us,<br> +Howe'er those beauties may distract us;<br> +Still fickle, we are prone to rove,<br> +<i>These</i> cannot fix our souls to love;<br> +It is not too <i>severe</i> a stricture,<br> +To say they form a <i>pretty picture</i>;<br> +But would'st thou see the secret chain,<br> +Which binds us in your humble train,<br> +To hail you Queens of all Creation,<br> +Know, in a <i>word, 'tis Animation</i>.<br> +<br> +<b>Byron</b>, <i>January</i> 10, 1807.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Marion footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f277"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The MS. of this Poem is +preserved at Newstead. "This was to Harriet Maltby, afterwards +Mrs. Nichols, written upon her meeting Byron, and, + +<blockquote>"being <i>cold, silent</i>, and <i>reserved</i> to +him, by the advice of a Lady with whom she was staying; quite +foreign to her <i>usual</i> manner, which was gay, lively, and +full of flirtation."</blockquote> + +--Note by Miss E. Pigot. (<a href="#f280">See</a> p. 130, var. +ii.)<br> +<a href="#section58">return to this poem</a><br> +<a href="#f445">cross-reference: return to lines "to +Harriet"</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f278"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Harriet...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr278">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f279"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>All I shall therefore say of these,<br> + (Thy pardon if my words displease)....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr279">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f280"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>And lest my precepts be found fault, by<br> + Those who approved the frown of M--lt-by....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr280">return to this poem</a><br> +<a href="#f277">cross reference: return to footnote of previous +lines "To Marion"</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section59"></a>Oscar of Alva<a href="#f281"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + How sweetly shines, through azure skies,<br> + The lamp of Heaven on Lora's shore;<br> +Where Alva's hoary turrets rise,<br> + And hear the din of arms no more!<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But often has yon rolling moon,<br> + On Alva's casques of silver play'd;<br> +And view'd, at midnight's silent noon,<br> + Her chiefs in gleaming mail array'd:<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + And, on the crimson'd rocks beneath,<br> + Which scowl o'er ocean's sullen flow,<br> +<a name="fr282">Pale</a> in the scatter'd ranks of death,<br> + She saw the gasping warrior low<a href= +"#f282"><sup>a</sup></a>;<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + While many an eye, which ne'er again<a href= +"#f283"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr283">Could</a> mark the rising orb of day,<br> +Turn'd feebly from the gory plain,<br> + Beheld in death her fading ray.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Once, to those eyes the lamp of Love,<br> + They blest her dear propitious light;<br> +But, now, she glimmer'd from above,<br> + A sad, funereal torch of night.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Faded is Alva's noble race,<br> + And grey her towers are seen afar;<br> +No more her heroes urge the chase,<br> + Or roll the crimson tide of war.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + But, who was last of Alva's clan?<br> + Why grows the moss on Alva's stone?<br> +Her towers resound no steps of man,<br> + They echo to the gale alone.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + And, when that gale is fierce and high,<br> + A sound is heard in yonder hall;<br> +It rises hoarsely through the sky,<br> + And vibrates o'er the mould'ring wall.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Yes, when the eddying tempest sighs,<br> + It shakes the shield of Oscar brave;<br> +But, there, no more his banners rise,<br> + No more his plumes of sable wave.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + Fair shone the sun on Oscar's birth,<br> + When Angus hail'd his eldest born;<br> +The vassals round their chieftain's hearth<br> + Crowd to applaud the happy morn.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + They feast upon the mountain deer,<br> + The Pibroch rais'd its piercing note<a href= +"#f284"><sup>2</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr284">To</a> gladden more their Highland cheer,<br> + The strains in martial numbers float.<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + And they who heard the war-notes wild,<br> + Hop'd that, one day, the Pibroch's strain<br> +Should play before the Hero's child,<br> + While he should lead the Tartan train.<br> +<br> +<br> + 13.<br> +<br> + Another year is quickly past,<br> + And Angus hails another son;<br> +His natal day is like the last,<br> + Nor soon the jocund feast was done.<br> +<br> +<br> + 14.<br> +<br> + Taught by their sire to bend the bow,<br> + On Alva's dusky hills of wind,<br> +The boys in childhood chas'd the roe,<br> + And left their hounds in speed behind.<br> +<br> +<br> + 15.<br> +<br> + But ere their years of youth are o'er,<br> + They mingle in the ranks of war;<br> +They lightly wheel the bright claymore,<br> + And send the whistling arrow far.<br> +<br> +<br> + 16.<br> +<br> + Dark was the flow of Oscar's hair,<br> + Wildly it stream'd along the gale;<br> +But Allan's locks were bright and fair,<br> + And pensive seem'd his cheek, and pale.<br> +<br> +<br> + 17.<br> +<br> + But Oscar own'd a hero's soul,<br> + His dark eye shone through beams of truth;<br> +Allan had early learn'd controul,<br> + And smooth his words had been from youth.<br> +<br> +<br> + 18.<br> +<br> + Both, both were brave; the Saxon spear<br> + Was shiver'd oft beneath their steel;<br> +And Oscar's bosom scorn'd to fear,<br> + But Oscar's bosom knew to feel;<br> +<br> +<br> + 19.<br> +<br> + While Allan's soul belied his form,<br> + Unworthy with such charms to dwell:<br> +Keen as the lightning of the storm,<br> + On foes his deadly vengeance fell.<br> +<br> +<br> + 20.<br> +<br> + From high Southannon's distant tower<br> + Arrived a young and noble dame;<br> +With Kenneth's lands to form her dower,<br> + Glenalvon's blue-eyed daughter came;<br> +<br> +<br> + 21.<br> +<br> + And Oscar claim'd the beauteous bride,<br> + And Angus on his Oscar smil'd:<br> +It soothed the father's feudal pride<br> + Thus to obtain Glenalvon's child.<br> +<br> +<br> + 22.<br> +<br> + Hark! to the Pibroch's pleasing note,<br> + Hark! to the swelling nuptial song,<br> +In joyous strains the voices float,<br> + And, still, the choral peal prolong.<br> +<br> +<br> + 23.<br> +<br> + See how the Heroes' blood-red plumes<br> + Assembled wave in Alva's hall;<br> +Each youth his varied plaid assumes,<br> + Attending on their chieftain's call.<br> +<br> +<br> + 24.<br> +<br> + It is not war their aid demands,<br> + The Pibroch plays the song of peace;<br> +To Oscar's nuptials throng the bands<br> + Nor yet the sounds of pleasure cease.<br> +<br> +<br> + 25.<br> +<br> + But where is Oscar? sure 'tis late:<br> + Is this a bridegroom's ardent flame?<br> +While thronging guests and ladies wait,<br> + Nor Oscar nor his brother came.<br> +<br> +<br> + 26.<br> +<br> + At length young Allan join'd the bride;<br> + "Why comes not Oscar?" Angus said:<br> +"Is he not here?" the Youth replied;<br> + "With me he rov'd not o'er the glade:<br> +<br> +<br> + 27.<br> +<br> + "Perchance, forgetful of the day,<br> + 'Tis his to chase the bounding roe;<br> +Or Ocean's waves prolong his stay:<br> + Yet, Oscar's bark is seldom slow."<br> +<br> +<br> + 28.<br> +<br> + "Oh, no!" the anguish'd Sire rejoin'd,<br> + "Nor chase, nor wave, my Boy delay;<br> +Would he to Mora seem unkind?<br> + Would aught to her impede his way?<br> +<br> +<br> + 29.<br> +<br> + "Oh, search, ye Chiefs! oh, search around!<br> + Allan, with these, through Alva fly;<br> +Till Oscar, till my son is found,<br> + Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply."<br> +<br> +<br> + 30.<br> +<br> + All is confusion--through the vale,<br> + The name of Oscar hoarsely rings,<br> +It rises on the murm'ring gale,<br> + Till night expands her dusky wings.<br> +<br> +<br> + 31.<br> +<br> + It breaks the stillness of the night,<br> + But echoes through her shades in vain;<br> +It sounds through morning's misty light,<br> + But Oscar comes not o'er the plain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 32.<br> +<br> + Three days, three sleepless nights, the Chief<br> + For Oscar search'd each mountain cave;<br> +Then hope is lost; in boundless grief,<br> + His locks in grey-torn ringlets wave.<br> +<br> +<br> + 33.<br> +<br> + "Oscar! my son!--thou God of Heav'n,<br> + Restore the prop of sinking age!<br> +Or, if that hope no more is given,<br> + Yield his assassin to my rage.<br> +<br> +<br> + 34.<br> +<br> + "Yes, on some desert rocky shore<br> + My Oscar's whiten'd bones must lie;<br> +Then grant, thou God! I ask no more,<br> + With him his frantic Sire may die!<br> +<br> +<br> + 35.<br> +<br> + "Yet, he may live,--away, despair!<br> + Be calm, my soul! he yet may live;<br> +T' arraign my fate, my voice forbear!<br> + O God! my impious prayer forgive.<br> +<br> +<br> + 36.<br> +<br> + "What, if he live for me no more,<br> + I sink forgotten in the dust,<br> +The hope of Alva's age is o'er:<br> + Alas! can pangs like these be just?"<br> +<br> +<br> + 37.<br> +<br> + Thus did the hapless Parent mourn,<br> + Till Time, who soothes severest woe,<br> +Had bade serenity return,<br> + And made the tear-drop cease to flow.<br> +<br> +<br> + 38.<br> +<br> + For, still, some latent hope surviv'd<br> + That Oscar might once more appear;<br> +His hope now droop'd and now revived,<br> + Till Time had told a tedious year.<br> +<br> +<br> + 39.<br> +<br> + Days roll'd along, the orb of light<br> + Again had run his destined race;<br> +No Oscar bless'd his father's sight,<br> + And sorrow left a fainter trace.<br> +<br> +<br> + 40.<br> +<br> + For youthful Allan still remain'd,<br> + And, now, his father's only joy:<br> +And Mora's heart was quickly gain'd,<br> + For beauty crown'd the fair-hair'd boy.<br> +<br> +<br> + 41.<br> +<br> + She thought that Oscar low was laid,<br> + And Allan's face was wondrous fair;<br> +If Oscar liv'd, some other maid<br> + Had claim'd his faithless bosom's care.<br> +<br> +<br> + 42.<br> +<br> + And Angus said, if one year more<br> + In fruitless hope was pass'd away,<br> +His fondest scruples should be o'er,<br> + And he would name their nuptial day.<br> +<br> +<br> + 43.<br> +<br> + Slow roll'd the moons, but blest at last<br> + Arriv'd the dearly destin'd morn:<br> +The year of anxious trembling past,<br> + What smiles the lovers' cheeks adorn!<br> +<br> +<br> + 44.<br> +<br> + Hark to the Pibroch's pleasing note!<br> + Hark to the swelling nuptial song!<br> +In joyous strains the voices float,<br> + And, still, the choral peal prolong.<br> +<br> +<br> + 45.<br> +<br> + Again the clan, in festive crowd,<br> + Throng through the gate of Alva's hall;<br> +The sounds of mirth re-echo loud,<br> + And all their former joy recall.<br> +<br> +<br> + 46.<br> +<br> + But who is he, whose darken'd brow<br> + Glooms in the midst of general mirth?<br> +Before his eyes' far fiercer glow<br> + The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth.<br> +<br> +<br> + 47.<br> +<br> + Dark is the robe which wraps his form,<br> + And tall his plume of gory red;<br> +His voice is like the rising storm,<br> + But light and trackless is his tread.<br> +<br> +<br> + 48.<br> +<br> + 'Tis noon of night, the pledge goes round,<br> + The bridegroom's health is deeply quaff'd;<br> +With shouts the vaulted roofs resound,<br> + And all combine to hail the draught.<br> +<br> +<br> + 49.<br> +<br> + Sudden the stranger-chief arose,<br> + And all the clamorous crowd are hush'd;<br> +And Angus' cheek with wonder glows,<br> + And Mora's tender bosom blush'd.<br> +<br> +<br> + 50.<br> +<br> + "Old man!" he cried, "this pledge is done,<br> + Thou saw'st 'twas truly drunk by me;<br> +It hail'd the nuptials of thy son:<br> + Now will I claim a pledge from thee.<br> +<br> +<br> + 51.<br> +<br> + "While all around is mirth and joy,<br> + To bless thy Allan's happy lot,<br> +Say, hadst thou ne'er another boy?<br> + Say, why should Oscar be forgot?"<br> +<br> +<br> + 52.<br> +<br> + "Alas!" the hapless Sire replied,<br> + The big tear starting as he spoke,<br> +"When Oscar left my hall, or died,<br> + This aged heart was almost broke.<br> +<br> +<br> + 53.<br> +<br> + "Thrice has the earth revolv'd her course<br> + Since Oscar's form has bless'd my sight;<br> +And Allan is my last resource,<br> + Since martial Oscar's death, or flight."<br> +<br> +<br> + 54.<br> +<br> + "'Tis well," replied the stranger stern,<br> + And fiercely flash'd his rolling eye;<br> +"Thy Oscar's fate, I fain would learn;<br> + Perhaps the Hero did not die.<br> +<br> +<br> + 55.<br> +<br> + "Perchance, if those, whom most he lov'd,<br> + Would call, thy Oscar might return;<br> +<a name="fr285">Perchance</a>, the chief has only rov'd;<br> + For him thy Beltane, yet, may burn<a href= +"#f285"><sup>3</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 56.<br> +<br> + "Fill high the bowl the table round,<br> + We will not claim the pledge by stealth;<br> +With wine let every cup be crown'd;<br> + Pledge me departed Oscar's health."<br> +<br> +<br> + 57.<br> +<br> + "With all my soul," old Angus said,<br> + And fill'd his goblet to the brim:<br> +"Here's to my boy! alive or dead,<br> + I ne'er shall find a son like him."<br> +<br> +<br> + 58.<br> +<br> + "Bravely, old man, this health has sped;<br> + But why does Allan trembling stand?<br> +Come, drink remembrance of the dead,<br> + And raise thy cup with firmer hand."<br> +<br> +<br> + 59.<br> +<br> + The crimson glow of Allan's face<br> + Was turn'd at once to ghastly hue;<br> +The drops of death each other chace,<br> + Adown in agonizing dew.<br> +<br> +<br> + 60.<br> +<br> + Thrice did he raise the goblet high,<br> + And thrice his lips refused to taste;<br> +For thrice he caught the stranger's eye<br> + On his with deadly fury plac'd.<br> +<br> +<br> + 61.<br> +<br> + "And is it thus a brother hails<br> + A brother's fond remembrance here?<br> +If thus affection's strength prevails,<br> + What might we not expect from fear?"<br> +<br> +<br> + 62.<br> +<br> + Roused by the sneer, he rais'd the bowl,<br> + "Would Oscar now could share our mirth!"<br> +Internal fear appall'd his soul<a href= +"#f286"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr286">He</a> said, and dash'd the cup to earth.<br> +<br> +<br> + 63.<br> +<br> + "'Tis he! I hear my murderer's voice!"<br> + Loud shrieks a darkly gleaming Form.<br> +"A murderer's voice!" the roof replies,<br> + And deeply swells the bursting storm.<br> +<br> +<br> + 64.<br> +<br> + The tapers wink, the chieftains shrink,<br> + The stranger's gone,--amidst the crew,<br> +A Form was seen, in tartan green,<br> + And tall the shade terrific grew.<br> +<br> +<br> + 65.<br> +<br> + His waist was bound with a broad belt round,<br> + His plume of sable stream'd on high;<br> +But his breast was bare, with the red wounds there,<br> + And fix'd was the glare of his glassy eye.<br> +<br> +<br> + 66.<br> +<br> + And thrice he smil'd, with his eye so wild<br> + On Angus bending low the knee;<br> +And thrice he frown'd, on a Chief on the ground,<br> + Whom shivering crowds with horror see.<br> +<br> +<br> + 67.<br> +<br> + The bolts loud roll from pole to pole,<br> + And thunders through the welkin ring,<br> +And the gleaming form, through the mist of the storm,<br> + Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing.<br> +<br> +<br> + 68.<br> +<br> + Cold was the feast, the revel ceas'd.<br> + <a name="fr287">Who</a> lies upon the stony floor?<br> +Oblivion press'd old Angus' breast<a href= +"#f287"><sup>d</sup></a>,<br> + At length his life-pulse throbs once more.<br> +<br> +<br> + 69.<br> +<br> + "Away, away! let the leech essay<br> + To pour the light on Allan's eyes:"<br> +His sand is done,--his race is run;<br> + Oh! never more shall Allan rise!<br> +<br> +<br> + 70.<br> +<br> + But Oscar's breast is cold as clay,<br> + His locks are lifted by the gale;<br> +And Allan's barbèd arrow lay<br> + With him in dark Glentanar's vale.<br> +<br> +<br> + 71.<br> +<br> + And whence the dreadful stranger came,<br> + Or who, no mortal wight can tell;<br> +But no one doubts the form of flame,<br> + For Alva's sons knew Oscar well.<br> +<br> +<br> + 72.<br> +<br> + Ambition nerv'd young Allan's hand,<br> + Exulting demons wing'd his dart;<br> +While Envy wav'd her burning brand,<br> + And pour'd her venom round his heart.<br> +<br> +<br> + 73.<br> +<br> + Swift is the shaft from Allan's bow;<br> + Whose streaming life-blood stains his side?<br> +Dark Oscar's sable crest is low,<br> + The dart has drunk his vital tide.<br> +<br> +<br> + 74.<br> +<br> + And Mora's eye could Allan move,<br> + She bade his wounded pride rebel:<br> +Alas! that eyes, which beam'd with love,<br> + Should urge the soul to deeds of Hell.<br> +<br> +<br> + 75.<br> +<br> + Lo! see'st thou not a lonely tomb,<br> + Which rises o'er a warrior dead?<br> +It glimmers through the twilight gloom;<br> + Oh! that is Allan's nuptial bed.<br> +<br> +<br> + 76.<br> +<br> + Far, distant far, the noble grave<br> + Which held his clan's great ashes stood;<br> +And o'er his corse no banners wave,<br> + For they were stain'd with kindred blood.<br> +<br> +<br> + 77.<br> +<br> + What minstrel grey, what hoary bard,<br> + Shall Allan's deeds on harp-strings raise?<br> +The song is glory's chief reward,<br> + But who can strike a murd'rer's praise?<br> +<br> +<br> + 78.<br> +<br> + Unstrung, untouch'd, the harp must stand,<br> + No minstrel dare the theme awake;<br> +Guilt would benumb his palsied hand,<br> + His harp in shuddering chords would break.<br> +<br> +<br> + 79.<br> +<br> + No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse,<br> + Shall sound his glories high in air:<br> +A dying father's bitter curse,<br> + A brother's death-groan echoes there.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Oscar footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f281"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The catastrophe of this +tale was suggested by the story of "Jeronymo and Lorenzo," in the +first volume of Schiller's <i>Armenian, or the Ghost-Seer</i>. It +also bears some resemblance to a scene in the third act of +<i>Macbeth</i>.--[<i>Der Geisterseher</i>, Schiller's +<i>Werke</i> (1819), x. 97, <i>sq</i>.<br> +<a href="#section59">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f282"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>She view'd the gasping...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr282">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f284"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý It is evident that Byron +here confused the <i>pibroch</i>, the air, with the +<i>bagpipe</i>, the instrument.<br> +<br> + <a href="#fr284">return to this poem</a><br> +<a href="#f334">cross-reference: return to "Lachin y +Gair"</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f283"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>When many an eye which ne'er again<br> + Could view...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr283">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f285"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Beltane Tree, a Highland +festival on the first of May, held near fires lighted for the +occasion.<br> +<a href="#fr285">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f286"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Internal fears...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr286">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f287"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>Old Angus prest, the earth with his +breast...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr287">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section60">Translation from Anacreon. <i>Ode +1</i></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><a href="#f288"><img src="images/BG7.gif" width="226" +height="22" alt= +"Greek (transliteratied): Thel_o legein Atpeidas, k.t.l."> +</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<b>Ode 1<br> +<br> +To his Lyre</b><br> +<br> +<br> +I wish to tune my quivering lyre<a href= +"#f289"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr289">To</a> deeds of fame, and notes of fire;<br> +To echo, from its rising swell,<br> +How heroes fought and nations fell,<br> +When Atreus' sons advanc'd to war,<br> +Or Tyrian Cadmus rov'd afar;<br> +But still, to martial strains unknown,<br> +My lyre recurs to Love alone.<br> +Fir'd with the hope of future fame<a href= +"#f290"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr290">I</a> seek some nobler Hero's name;<br> +The dying chords are strung anew,<br> +To war, to war, my harp is due:<br> +With glowing strings, the Epic strain<br> +To Jove's great son I raise again;<br> +Alcides and his glorious deeds,<br> +Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds;<br> +All, all in vain; my wayward lyre<br> +Wakes silver notes of soft Desire.<br> +Adieu, ye Chiefs renown'd in arms!<br> +Adieu the clang of War's alarms<a href= +"#f291"><sup>c</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr291">To</a> other deeds my soul is strung,<br> +And sweeter notes shall now be sung;<br> +My harp shall all its powers reveal,<br> +To tell the tale my heart must feel;<br> +Love, Love alone, my lyre shall claim,<br> +In songs of bliss and sighs of flame.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Ode 1 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f288"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto does not appear +in <i>Hours of Idleness</i> or <i>Poems O. and T.</i><br> +<a href="#section60">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f289"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>I sought to tune...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr289">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f290"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span> Ý<br> + + +<blockquote><i>The chords resumed a second strain,<br> + To Jove's great son I strike again.<br> + Alcides and his glorious deeds,<br> + Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr290">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f291"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The Trumpet's blast with these accords<br> + To sound the clash of hostile swords--<br> + Be mine the softer, sweeter care<br> + To soothe the young and virgin Fair...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<br> +<a href="#fr291">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section61">From Anacreon. <i>Ode 3</i></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><a href="#f292"><img src="images/BG8.gif" width="236" +height="21" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Mesonuktiois poth h_opais, k.t.l."> +</a><br> +<br> +<br> +'Twas now the hour when Night had driven<br> +Her car half round yon sable heaven;<br> +Boötes, only, seem'd to roll<a href= +"#f293"><sup>a</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr293">His</a> Arctic charge around the Pole;<br> +While mortals, lost in gentle sleep,<br> +Forgot to smile, or ceas'd to weep:<br> +At this lone hour the Paphian boy,<br> +Descending from the realms of joy,<br> +Quick to my gate directs his course,<br> +And knocks with all his little force;<br> +My visions fled, alarm'd I rose,--<br> +"What stranger breaks my blest repose?"<br> +"Alas!" replies the wily child<br> +In faltering accents sweetly mild;<br> +"A hapless Infant here I roam,<br> +Far from my dear maternal home.<br> +Oh! shield me from the wintry blast!<br> +The nightly storm is pouring fast.<br> +No prowling robber lingers here;<br> +A wandering baby who can fear?"<br> +I heard his seeming artless tale<a href= +"#f294"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr294">I</a> heard his sighs upon the gale:<br> +My breast was never pity's foe,<br> +But felt for all the baby's woe.<br> +I drew the bar, and by the light<br> +Young Love, the infant, met my sight;<br> +His bow across his shoulders flung,<br> +And thence his fatal quiver hung<br> +(Ah! little did I think the dart<br> +Would rankle soon within my heart).<br> +With care I tend my weary guest,<br> +His little fingers chill my breast;<br> +His glossy curls, his azure wing,<br> +Which droop with nightly showers, I wring;<br> +His shivering limbs the embers warm;<br> +And now reviving from the storm,<br> +Scarce had he felt his wonted glow,<br> +Than swift he seized his slender bow:--<br> +"I fain would know, my gentle host,"<br> +He cried, "if this its strength has lost;<br> +I fear, relax'd with midnight dews,<br> +The strings their former aid refuse."<br> +With poison tipt, his arrow flies,<br> +Deep in my tortur'd heart it lies:<br> +Then loud the joyous Urchin laugh'd:--<br> +"My bow can still impel the shaft:<br> +'Tis firmly fix'd, thy sighs reveal it;<br> +Say, courteous host, canst thou not feel it?"</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Ode 3 footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f292"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The motto does not appear +in <i>Hours of Idleness</i> or <i>Poems O. and T.</i><br> +<a href="#section61">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f293"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span> ÝThe Newstead MS. inserts-- + +<blockquote><i>No Moon in silver robe was seen<br> + Nor e'en a trembling star between...</i></blockquote> + +<a href="#fr293">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f294"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Touched with the seeming artless tale<br> + Compassion's tears o'er doubt prevail;<br> + Methought I viewed him, cold and damp,<br> + I trimmed anew my dying lamp,<br> + Drew back the bar--and by the light<br> + A pinioned Infant met my sight;<br> + His bow across his shoulders slung,<br> + And hence a gilded quiver hung;<br> + With care I tend my weary guest,<br> + His shivering hands by mine are pressed:<br> + My hearth I load with embers warm<br> + To dry the dew drops of the storm:<br> + Drenched by the rain of yonder sky<br> + The strings are weak--but let us try.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr294">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section62"></a>The Episode of Nisus and Euryalus<a href= +"#f295"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>. A +Paraphrase from the <i>Æneid</i>, Lib. 9</h3> + +<br> +<table summary="Nisus abd Euryalus" border="0" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%">Nisus, the guardian of the portal, stood,<br> +Eager to gild his arms with hostile blood;<br> +Well skill'd, in fight, the quivering lance to wield,<br> +Or pour his arrows thro' th' embattled field:<br> +From Ida torn, he left his sylvan cave<a href= +"#f296"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr296">And</a> sought a foreign home, a distant +grave.<br> +To watch the movements of the Daunian host,<br> +With him Euryalus sustains the post;<br> +No lovelier mien adorn'd the ranks of Troy,<br> +And beardless bloom yet grac'd the gallant boy;<br> +Though few the seasons of his youthful life,<br> +As yet a novice in the martial strife,<br> +'Twas his, with beauty, Valour's gifts to share--<br> +A soul heroic, as his form was fair:<br> +These burn with one pure flame of generous love;<br> +In peace, in war, united still they move;<br> +<a name="fr297">Friendship</a> and Glory form their joint +reward;<br> +And, now, combin'd they hold their nightly guard<a href= +"#f297"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + "What God," exclaim'd the first, "instils this fire?<br> +Or, in itself a God, what great desire?<br> +My lab'ring soul, with anxious thought oppress'd,<br> +Abhors this station of inglorious rest;<br> +The love of fame with this can ill accord,<br> +Be't mine to seek for glory with my sword.<br> +See'st thou yon camp, with torches twinkling dim,<br> +Where drunken slumbers wrap each lazy limb?<br> +Where confidence and ease the watch disdain,<br> +And drowsy Silence holds her sable reign?<br> +Then hear my thought:--In deep and sullen grief<br> +Our troops and leaders mourn their absent chief:<br> +Now could the gifts and promised prize be thine,<br> +(The deed, the danger, and the fame be mine,)<br> +Were this decreed, beneath yon rising mound,<br> +Methinks, an easy path, perchance, were found;<br> +Which past, I speed my way to Pallas' walls,<br> +And lead Æneas from Evander's halls."<br> +<br> + With equal ardour fir'd, and warlike joy,<br> +His glowing friend address'd the Dardan boy:--<br> +"These deeds, my Nisus, shalt thou dare alone?<br> +Must all the fame, the peril, be thine own?<br> +Am I by thee despis'd, and left afar,<br> +As one unfit to share the toils of war?<br> +Not thus his son the great Opheltes taught:<br> +Not thus my sire in Argive combats fought;<br> +Not thus, when Ilion fell by heavenly hate,<br> +I track'd Æneas through the walks of fate:<br> +Thou know'st my deeds, my breast devoid of fear,<br> +And hostile life-drops dim my gory spear.<br> +Here is a soul with hope immortal burns,<br> +And <i>life</i>, ignoble <i>life</i>, for <i>Glory</i> spurns<a +href="#f298"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr298">Fame</a>, fame is cheaply earn'd by fleeting +breath:<br> +The price of honour, is the sleep of death."<br> +<br> + Then Nisus:--"Calm thy bosom's fond alarms<a href= +"#f299"><sup>d</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr299">Thy</a> heart beats fiercely to the din of +arms.<br> +More dear thy worth, and valour than my own,<br> +I swear by him, who fills Olympus' throne!<br> +So may I triumph, as I speak the truth,<br> +And clasp again the comrade of my youth!<br> +But should I fall,--and he, who dares advance<br> +Through hostile legions, must abide by chance,--<br> +If some Rutulian arm, with adverse blow,<br> +Should lay the friend, who ever lov'd thee, low,<br> +Live thou--such beauties I would fain preserve--<br> +Thy budding years a lengthen'd term deserve;<br> +When humbled in the dust, let some one be,<br> +Whose gentle eyes will shed one tear for me;<br> +Whose manly arm may snatch me back by force,<br> +Or wealth redeem, from foes, my captive corse;<br> +Or, if my destiny these last deny,<br> +If, in the spoiler's power, my ashes lie;<br> +Thy pious care may raise a simple tomb,<br> +To mark thy love, and signalise my doom.<br> +Why should thy doating wretched mother weep<br> +Her only boy, reclin'd in endless sleep?<br> +Who, for thy sake, the tempest's fury dar'd,<br> +Who, for thy sake, war's deadly peril shar'd;<br> +Who brav'd what woman never brav'd before,<br> +And left her native, for the Latian shore."<br> +<br> + "In vain you damp the ardour of my soul,"<br> +Replied Euryalus; "it scorns controul;<br> +Hence, let us haste!"--their brother guards arose,<br> +Rous'd by their call, nor court again repose;<br> +The pair, buoy'd up on Hope's exulting wing,<br> +Their stations leave, and speed to seek the king.<br> +<br> + Now, o'er the earth a solemn stillness ran,<br> +And lull'd alike the cares of brute and man;<br> +Save where the Dardan leaders, nightly, hold<br> +Alternate converse, and their plans unfold.<br> +On one great point the council are agreed,<br> +An instant message to their prince decreed;<br> +Each lean'd upon the lance he well could wield,<br> +And pois'd with easy arm his ancient shield;<br> +When Nisus and his friend their leave request,<br> +<a name="fr300">To</a> offer something to their high behest.<br> +With anxious tremors, yet unaw'd by fear<a href= +"#f300"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> +The faithful pair before the throne appear;<br> +Iulus greets them; at his kind command,<br> +The elder, first, address'd the hoary band.<br> +<br> + "With patience" (thus Hyrtacides began)<br> +"Attend, nor judge, from youth, our humble plan.<br> +Where yonder beacons half-expiring beam,<br> +Our slumbering foes of future conquest dream<a href= +"#f301"><sup>f</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr301">Nor</a> heed that we a secret path have +trac'd,<br> +Between the ocean and the portal plac'd;<br> +Beneath the covert of the blackening smoke,<br> +Whose shade, securely, our design will cloak!<br> +If you, ye Chiefs, and Fortune will allow,<br> +We'll bend our course to yonder mountain's brow,<br> +Where Pallas' walls, at distance, meet the sight,<br> +Seen o'er the glade, when not obscur'd by night:<br> +Then shall Æneas in his pride return,<br> +While hostile matrons raise their offspring's urn;<br> +And Latian spoils, and purpled heaps of dead<br> +Shall mark the havoc of our Hero's tread;<br> +Such is our purpose, not unknown the way,<br> +Where yonder torrent's devious waters stray;<br> +Oft have we seen, when hunting by the stream,<br> +The distant spires above the valleys gleam."<br> +<br> + Mature in years, for sober wisdom fam'd,<br> +Mov'd by the speech, Alethes here exclaim'd,--<br> +"Ye parent gods! who rule the fate of Troy,<br> +Still dwells the Dardan spirit in the boy;<br> +When minds, like these, in striplings thus ye raise,<br> +Yours is the godlike act, be yours the praise;<br> +In gallant youth, my fainting hopes revive,<br> +And Ilion's wonted glories still survive."<br> +Then in his warm embrace the boys he press'd,<br> +And, quivering, strain'd them to his agéd breast;<br> +With tears the burning cheek of each bedew'd,<br> +And, sobbing, thus his first discourse renew'd:--<br> +"What gift, my countrymen, what martial prize,<br> +Can we bestow, which you may not despise?<br> +Our Deities the first best boon have given--<br> +Internal virtues are the gift of Heaven.<br> +What poor rewards can bless your deeds on earth,<br> +Doubtless await such young, exalted worth;<br> +Æneas and Ascanius shall combine<br> +To yield applause far, far surpassing mine."<br> +<br> + Iulus then:--" By all the powers above!<br> +By those Penates, who my country love!<br> +By hoary Vesta's sacred Fane, I swear,<br> +My hopes are all in you, ye generous pair!<br> +Restore my father, to my grateful sight,<br> +And all my sorrows, yield to one delight.<br> +Nisus! two silver goblets are thine own,<br> +Sav'd from Arisba's stately domes o'erthrown;<br> +My sire secured them on that fatal day,<br> +Nor left such bowls an Argive robber's prey.<br> +Two massy tripods, also, shall be thine,<br> +Two talents polish'd from the glittering mine;<br> +An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave,<br> +While yet our vessels press'd the Punic wave:<br> +But when the hostile chiefs at length bow down,<br> +When great Æneas wears Hesperia's crown,<br> +The casque, the buckler, and the fiery steed<br> +Which Turnus guides with more than mortal speed,<br> +Are thine; no envious lot shall then be cast,<br> +I pledge my word, irrevocably past:<br> +Nay more, twelve slaves, and twice six captive dames,<br> +To soothe thy softer hours with amorous flames,<br> +And all the realms, which now the Latins sway,<br> +The labours of to-night shall well repay.<br> +But thou, my generous youth, whose tender years<br> +Are near my own, whose worth my heart reveres,<br> +Henceforth, affection, sweetly thus begun,<br> +Shall join our bosoms and our souls in one;<br> +Without thy aid, no glory shall be mine,<br> +Without thy dear advice, no great design;<br> +Alike, through life, esteem'd, thou godlike boy,<br> +In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy."<br> + <br> + To him Euryalus:--"No day shall shame<br> +The rising glories which from this I claim.<br> +Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown,<br> +But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown.<br> +Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart,<br> +One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart:<br> +My mother, sprung from Priam's royal line,<br> +Like thine ennobled, hardly less divine,<br> +Nor Troy nor king Acestes' realms restrain<br> +Her feeble age from dangers of the main;<br> +Alone she came, all selfish fears above<a href= +"#f302"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr302">A</a> bright example of maternal love.<br> +Unknown, the secret enterprise I brave,<br> +Lest grief should bend my parent to the grave;<br> +From this alone no fond adieus I seek,<br> +No fainting mother's lips have press'd my cheek;<br> +By gloomy Night and thy right hand I vow,<br> +Her parting tears would shake my purpose now<a href= +"#f303"><sup>h</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr303">Do</a> thou, my prince, her failing age +sustain,<br> +In thee her much-lov'd child may live again;<br> +Her dying hours with pious conduct bless,<br> +Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress:<br> +So dear a hope must all my soul enflame<a href= +"#f304"><sup>i</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr304">To</a> rise in glory, or to fall in fame."<br> +Struck with a filial care so deeply felt,<br> +In tears at once the Trojan warriors melt;<br> +Faster than all, Iulus' eyes o'erflow!<br> +Such love was his, and such had been his woe.<br> +"All thou hast ask'd, receive," the Prince replied;<br> +"Nor this alone, but many a gift beside.<br> +<a name="fr305">To</a> cheer thy mother's years shall be my +aim,<br> +Creusa's<a href="#f305"><sup>2</sup></a> style but wanting to the +dame;<br> +Fortune an adverse wayward course may run,<br> +But bless'd thy mother in so dear a son.<br> +Now, by my life!--my Sire's most sacred oath--<br> +To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth,<br> +All the rewards which once to thee were vow'd<a href= +"#f306"><sup>j</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr306">If</a> thou should'st fall, on her shall be +bestow'd."<br> +Thus spoke the weeping Prince, then forth to view<br> +A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew;<br> +Lycaon's utmost skill had grac'd the steel,<br> +<a name="fr307">For</a> friends to envy and for foes to feel:<br> +A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil<a href= +"#f307"><sup>k</sup></a>,<br> +Slain 'midst the forest in the hunter's toil,<br> +Mnestheus to guard the elder youth bestows<a href= +"#f308"><sup>m</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr308">And</a> old Alethes' casque defends his +brows;<br> +Arm'd, thence they go, while all th' assembl'd train,<br> +To aid their cause, implore the gods in vain<a href= +"#f309"><sup>n</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr309">More</a> than a boy, in wisdom and in grace,<br> +Iulus holds amidst the chiefs his place:<br> +<a name="fr310">His</a> prayer he sends; but what can prayers +avail,<br> +Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale<a href= +"#f310"><sup>o</sup></a>?<br> +<br> + The trench is pass'd, and favour'd by the night,<br> +Through sleeping foes, they wheel their wary flight.<br> +When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er?<br> +Alas! some slumber, who shall wake no more!<br> +Chariots and bridles, mix'd with arms, are seen,<br> +And flowing flasks, and scatter'd troops between:<br> +Bacchus and Mars, to rule the camp, combine;<br> +A mingled Chaos this of war and wine.<br> +"Now," cries the first, "for deeds of blood prepare,<br> +With me the conquest and the labour share:<br> +Here lies our path; lest any hand arise,<br> +Watch thou, while many a dreaming chieftain dies;<br> +I'll carve our passage, through the heedless foe,<br> +And clear thy road, with many a deadly blow."<br> +His whispering accents then the youth repress'd,<br> +And pierced proud Rhamnes through his panting breast:<br> +Stretch'd at his ease, th' incautious king repos'd;<br> +Debauch, and not fatigue, his eyes had clos'd;<br> +To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince,<br> +His omens more than augur's skill evince;<br> +But he, who thus foretold the fate of all,<br> +Could not avert his own untimely fall.<br> +Next Remus' armour-bearer, hapless, fell,<br> +And three unhappy slaves the carnage swell;<br> +The charioteer along his courser's sides<br> +Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides;<br> +And, last, his Lord is number'd with the dead:<br> +Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head;<br> +From the swol'n veins the blackening torrents pour;<br> +Stain'd is the couch and earth with clotting gore.<br> +Young Lamyrus and Lamus next expire,<br> +<a name="fr311">And</a> gay Serranus, fill'd with youthful +fire;<br> +Half the long night in childish games was pass'd<a href= +"#f311"><sup>p</sup></a>;<br> +Lull'd by the potent grape, he slept at last:<br> +<a name="fr312">Ah</a>! happier far, had he the morn +survey'd,<br> +And, till Aurora's dawn, his skill display'd<a href= +"#f312"><sup>q</sup></a>.<br> +In slaughter'd folds, the keepers lost in sleep<a href= +"#f313"><sup>r</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr313">His</a> hungry fangs a lion thus may steep;<br> +'Mid the sad flock, at dead of night he prowls,<br> +With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls<br> +Insatiate still, through teeming herds he roams<a href= +"#f314"><sup>s</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr314">In</a> seas of gore, the lordly tyrant foams.<br> +<br> + Nor less the other's deadly vengeance came,<br> +But falls on feeble crowds without a name;<br> +His wound unconscious Fadus scarce can feel,<br> +Yet wakeful Rhæsus sees the threatening steel;<br> +His coward breast behind a jar he hides,<br> +And, vainly, in the weak defence confides;<br> +Full in his heart, the falchion search'd his veins,<br> +The reeking weapon bears alternate stains;<br> +Through wine and blood, commingling as they flow,<br> +One feeble spirit seeks the shades below.<br> +Now where Messapus dwelt they bend their way,<br> +Whose fires emit a faint and trembling ray;<br> +<a name="fr315">There</a>, unconfin'd, behold each grazing +steed,<br> +Unwatch'd, unheeded, on the herbage feed<a href= +"#f315"><sup>t</sup></a>:<br> +Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm,<br> +Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warm:<br> +"Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is pass'd;<br> +Full foes enough, to-night, have breath'd their last:<br> +Soon will the Day those Eastern clouds adorn;<br> +Now let us speed, nor tempt the rising morn."<br> +<br> + What silver arms, with various art emboss'd,<br> +What bowls and mantles, in confusion toss'd,<br> +They leave regardless! yet one glittering prize<br> +Attracts the younger Hero's wandering eyes;<br> +The gilded harness Rhamnes' coursers felt,<br> +The gems which stud the monarch's golden belt:<br> +This from the pallid corse was quickly torn,<br> +Once by a line of former chieftains worn.<br> +Th' exulting boy the studded girdle wears,<br> +Messapus' helm his head, in triumph, bears;<br> +Then from the tents their cautious steps they bend,<br> +To seek the vale, where safer paths extend.<br> +<br> + Just at this hour, a band of Latian horse<br> +To Turnus' camp pursue their destin'd course:<br> +While the slow foot their tardy march delay,<br> +The knights, impatient, spur along the way:<br> +Three hundred mail-clad men, by Volscens led,<br> +To Turnus with their master's promise sped:<br> +Now they approach the trench, and view the walls,<br> +When, on the left, a light reflection falls;<br> +The plunder'd helmet, through the waning night,<br> +Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright;<br> +Volscens, with question loud, the pair alarms:--<br> +"Stand, Stragglers! stand! why early thus in arms?<br> +From whence? to whom?"--He meets with no reply;<br> +Trusting the covert of the night, they fly:<br> +The thicket's depth, with hurried pace, they tread,<br> +While round the wood the hostile squadron spread.<br> +<br> + With brakes entangled, scarce a path between,<br> +Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene:<br> +Euryalus his heavy spoils impede,<br> +The boughs and winding turns his steps mislead;<br> +But Nisus scours along the forest's maze,<br> +To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze,<br> +Then backward o'er the plain his eyes extend,<br> +On every side they seek his absent friend.<br> +"O God! my boy," he cries, "of me bereft<a href= +"#f316"><sup>u</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr316">In</a> what impending perils art thou left!"<br> +Listening he runs--above the waving trees,<br> +Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze;<br> +The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around<br> +Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground.<br> +Again he turns--of footsteps hears the noise--<br> +The sound elates--the sight his hope destroys:<br> +The hapless boy a ruffian train surround<a href= +"#f317"><sup>v</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr317">While</a> lengthening shades his weary way +confound;<br> +Him, with loud shouts, the furious knights pursue,<br> +Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew<a href= +"#f318"><sup>w</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr318">What</a> can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers +dare?<br> +Ah! must he rush, his comrade's fate to share?<br> +What force, what aid, what stratagem essay,<br> +Back to redeem the Latian spoiler's prey?<br> +His life a votive ransom nobly give,<br> +Or die with him, for whom he wish'd to live?<br> +Poising with strength his lifted lance on high,<br> +On Luna's orb he cast his frenzied eye:--<br> + <br> +"Goddess serene, transcending every star<a href= +"#f319"><sup>x</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr319">Queen</a> of the sky, whose beams are seen +afar!<br> +By night Heaven owns thy sway, by day the grove,<br> +When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove;<br> +If e'er myself, or Sire, have sought to grace<br> +Thine altars, with the produce of the chase,<br> +Speed, speed my dart to pierce yon vaunting crowd,<br> +To free my friend, and scatter far the proud."<br> +Thus having said, the hissing dart he flung;<br> +Through parted shades the hurtling weapon sung;<br> +The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay,<br> +Transfix'd his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay:<br> +He sobs, he dies,--the troop in wild amaze,<br> +Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze;<br> +While pale they stare, thro' Tagus' temples riven,<br> +A second shaft, with equal force is driven:<br> +Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes;<br> +Veil'd by the night, secure the Trojan lies<a href= +"#f320"><sup>y</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr320">Burning</a> with wrath, he view'd his soldiers +fall.<br> +"Thou youth accurst, thy life shall pay for all!"<br> +Quick from the sheath his flaming glaive he drew,<br> +And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew.<br> +Nisus, no more the blackening shade conceals,<br> +Forth, forth he starts, and all his love reveals;<br> +Aghast, confus'd, his fears to madness rise,<br> +And pour these accents, shrieking as he flies;<br> +"Me, me,--your vengeance hurl on me alone;<br> +Here sheathe the steel, my blood is all your own;<br> +Ye starry Spheres! thou conscious Heaven! attest!<br> +He could not--durst not--lo! the guile confest!<br> +All, all was mine,--his early fate suspend;<br> +He only lov'd, too well, his hapless friend:<br> +Spare, spare, ye Chiefs! from him your rage remove;<br> +His fault was friendship, all his crime was love."<br> +He pray'd in vain; the dark assassin's sword<br> +Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gor'd;<br> +Lowly to earth inclines his plume-clad crest,<br> +And sanguine torrents mantle o'er his breast:<br> +As some young rose whose blossom scents the air,<br> +Languid in death, expires beneath the share;<br> +Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower,<br> +Declining gently, falls a fading flower;<br> +Thus, sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head,<br> +And lingering Beauty hovers round the dead.<br> +<br> + But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide,<br> +Revenge his leader, and Despair his guide<a href= +"#f321"><sup>z</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr321">Volscens</a> he seeks amidst the gathering +host,<br> +Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost;<br> +Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe;<br> +Rage nerves his arm, Fate gleams in every blow;<br> +In vain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds,<br> +Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds;<br> +In viewless circles wheel'd his falchion flies,<br> +Nor quits the hero's grasp till Volscens dies;<br> +Deep in his throat its end the weapon found,<br> +The tyrant's soul fled groaning through the wound<a href= +"#f322"><sup>A</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr322">Thus</a> Nisus all his fond affection +prov'd--<br> +Dying, revenged the fate of him he lov'd;<br> +Then on his bosom sought his wonted place<a href= +"#f323"><sup>B</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr323">And</a> death was heavenly, in his friend's +embrace!<br> + <br> +Celestial pair! if aught my verse can claim,<br> +Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame<a href= +"#f324"><sup>C</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr324">Ages</a> on ages shall your fate admire,<br> +No future day shall see your names expire,<br> +While stands the Capitol, immortal dome!<br> +And vanquished millions hail their Empress, Rome!</td> +<td width="50%"><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +100<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> 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+</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Nisus abd Euryalus footnotes" border="2" +cellspacing="0" cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f295"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý Lines 1-18 were first +published in <i>P. on V. Occasions</i>, under the title of +"Fragment of a Translation from the 9th Book of Virgil's +<i>Æneid</i>."<br> +<a href="#section62">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f296"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Him Ida sent, a hunter, now no more,<br> + To combat foes, upon a foreign shore;<br> + Near him, the loveliest of the Trojan band,<br> + Did fair Euryalus, his comrade, stand;<br> + Few are the seasons of his youthful life,<br> + As yet a novice in the martial strife:<br> + The Gods to him unwonted gifts impart,<br> + A female's beatify, with a hero's heart.<br> +<br> + [P. on V. Occasions.]<br> +<br> + From Ida torn he left his native grove,<br> + Through distant climes, and trackless seas to rove.<br> +<br> + [Hours of Idleness.]</i></blockquote> + +<a href="#fr296">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f305"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý The mother of Iulus, lost +on the night when Troy was taken.<br> +<a href="#fr305">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f297"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And now combin'd, the massy gate they guard.<br> +<br> +[P. on V. Occasions.]<br> +<br> + --they hold the nightly guard.<br> +<br> +[Hours of Idleness.]</i></blockquote> + +<br> +<a href="#fr297">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f298"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And Love, and Life alike the glory +spurned...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr298">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f299"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Then Nisus, "Ah, my friend--why thus suspect<br> + Thy youthful breast admits of no defect."</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr299">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f300"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Trembling with diffidence not awed by +fear...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr300">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f301"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The vain Rutulians lost in slumber +dream...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr301">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f302"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Hither she came...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr302">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f303"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Her falling tears...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr303">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f304"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote i:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>With this assurance Fate's attempts are vain;<br> + Fearless I dare the foes of yonder plain....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr304">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f306"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>That all the gifts which once to thee were +vowed...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr306">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f307"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>insert...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr307">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f308"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Mnestheus presented, and the Warrior's mask<br> + Alethes gave a doubly temper'd casque...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr308">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f309"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>o glad their journey, follow them in +vain...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr309">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f310"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Dispersed and scattered on the sighing +gale...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr310">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f311"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>By Bacchus' potent draught weigh'd down at +last<br> + Half the long night in childish games was +past....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr311">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f312"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote q:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>--disportive play'd...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr312">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f313"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote r:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>By hunger prest, the keeper lull'd to sleep<br> + In slaughter thus a Lyon's fangs may steep...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr313">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f314"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote s:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Through teeming herds unchecked, unawed, he +roams...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr314">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f315"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote t:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Heedless of danger on the herbage +feed...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr315">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f316"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote u:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>of thee bereft<br> + In what dire perils is my brother left...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr316">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f317"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote v:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Then his lov'd boy the ruffian band surround<br> + Entangled in the tufted Forest ground....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr317">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f318"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote w:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>t length a captive to the hostile +crew...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr318">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f319"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote x:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The Goddess bright transcending every +star...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr319">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f320"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote y:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>No object meets them but the earth and skies.<br> + He burns for vengeance, rising in his wrath--<br> + Then you, accursed, thy life shall pay for both;<br> + Then from the sheath his flaming brand he drew,<br> + And on the raging boy defenceless flew.<br> + Nisus no more the blackening shade conceals,<br> + Forth forth he rushed and all his love reveals;<br> + Pale and confused his fear to madness grows,<br> + And thus in accents mild he greets his Foes.<br> + "On me, on me, direct your impious steel,<br> + Let me and me alone your vengeance feel--<br> + Let not a stripling's blood by Chiefs be spilt,<br> + Be mine the Death, as mine was all the guilt.<br> + By Heaven and Hell, the powers of Earth and Air.<br> + Yon guiltless stripling neither could nor dare:<br> + Spare him, oh! spare by all the Gods above,<br> + A hapless boy whose only crime was Love."<br> + He prayed in vain; the fierce assassin's sword<br> + Pierced the fair side, the snowy bosom gored;<br> + Drooping to earth inclines his lovely head,<br> + O'er his fair curls, the purpling stream is spread.<br> + As some sweet lily, by the ploughshare broke<br> + Languid in Death, sinks down beneath the stroke;<br> + Or, as some poppy, bending with the shower,<br> + Gently declining falls a waning flower...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr320">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f321"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote z:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Revenge his object...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr321">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f322"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote A:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The assassin's soul...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr322">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f323"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote B:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Then on his breast he sought his wonted place, And +Death was lovely in his Friend's embrace...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr323">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f324"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote C:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Yours are the fairest wreaths of endless +Fame...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr324">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a><br> +<a href="#f344">cross-reference: return to footnote in "Calmar +and Orla"</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section63">Translation from the <i>Medea</i> of +Euripides [L. 627-660]</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><a href="#f325"><img src="images/BG9.gif" width="227" +height="21" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Erotes hyper men agan, K.T.L."></a><br> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + When fierce conflicting passions urge<br> +The breast, where love is wont to glow,<br> +What mind can stem the stormy surge<br> +Which rolls the tide of human woe?<br> +The hope of praise, the dread of shame,<br> +Can rouse the tortur'd breast no more;<br> +The wild desire, the guilty flame,<br> +Absorbs each wish it felt before.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But if affection gently thrills<br> +The soul, by purer dreams possest,<br> +The pleasing balm of mortal ills<br> +In love can soothe the aching breast:<br> +If thus thou comest in disguise<a href= +"#f326"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr326">Fair</a> Venus! from thy native heaven,<br> +What heart, unfeeling, would despise<br> +The sweetest boon the Gods have given?<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + But, never from thy golden bow,<br> +May I beneath the shaft expire!<br> +Whose creeping venom, sure and slow,<br> +Awakes an all-consuming fire:<br> +Ye racking doubts! ye jealous fears!<br> +With others wage internal war;<br> +Repentance! source of future tears,<br> +From me be ever distant far!<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + May no distracting thoughts destroy<br> +The holy calm of sacred love!<br> +May all the hours be winged with joy,<br> +Which hover faithful hearts above!<br> +Fair Venus! on thy myrtle shrine<br> +May I with some fond lover sigh!<br> +Whose heart may mingle pure with mine,<br> +With me to live, with me to die!<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + My native soil! belov'd before,<br> +Now dearer, as my peaceful home,<br> +Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore,<br> +A hapless banish'd wretch to roam!<br> +This very day, this very hour,<br> +May I resign this fleeting breath!<br> +Nor quit my silent humble bower;<br> +A doom, to me, far worse than death.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Have I not heard the exile's sigh,<br> +And seen the exile's silent tear,<br> +Through distant climes condemn'd to fly,<br> +A pensive, weary wanderer here?<br> +Ah! hapless dame<a href="#f327"><sup>2</sup></a>! no sire +bewails,<br> +<a name="fr327">No</a> friend thy wretched fate deplores,<br> +No kindred voice with rapture hails<br> +Thy steps within a stranger's doors.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Perish the fiend! whose iron heart<br> +To fair affection's truth unknown,<br> +Bids her he fondly lov'd depart,<br> +Unpitied, helpless, and alone;<br> +Who ne'er unlocks with silver key<a href= +"#f328"><sup>3</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr328">The</a> milder treasures of his soul;<br> +May such a friend be far from me,<br> +And Ocean's storms between us roll!</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + + +<table summary="Medea footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f325"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The Greek heading does not +appear in <i>Hours of Idleness</i> or <i>Poems O. and T</i>.<br> +<a href="#section63">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f326"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>If thus thou com'st in gentle +guise...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr326">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f327"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý Medea, who accompanied +Jason to Corinth, was deserted by him for the daughter of Creon, +king of that city. The chorus, from which this is taken, here +addresses Medea; though a considerable liberty is taken with the +original, by expanding the idea, as also in some other parts of +the translation.<br> +<a href="#fr327">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f328"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý The original is +<img src="images/BG10.gif" width="232" height="18" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): katharan anoixanta klaeda phren_on"> +literally "disclosing the bright key of the mind."</td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section64"></a>Lachin y Gair<a href="#f329"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses!<br> +In you let the minions of luxury rove:<br> +Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes,<br> +Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:<br> +Yet, Caledonia, belov'd are thy mountains,<br> +Round their white summits though elements war:<br> +Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,<br> + I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy, wander'd:<br> + My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid<a href= +"#f330"><sup>2</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr330">On</a> chieftains, long perish'd, my memory +ponder'd,<br> + As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade;<br> +I sought not my home, till the day's dying glory<br> + Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star;<br> +For fancy was cheer'd, by traditional story,<br> + Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + "Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices<br> + Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?"<br> +Surely, the soul of the hero rejoices,<br> + And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale!<br> +Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers,<br> + Winter presides in his cold icy car:<br> +Clouds, there, encircle the forms of my Fathers;<br> + They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + "Ill starr'd<a href="#f331"><sup>3</sup></a>, though brave, did +no visions foreboding<br> + <a name="fr331">Tell</a> you that fate had forsaken your +cause?"<br> +Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden<a href= +"#f332"><sup>4</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr332">Victory</a> crown'd not your fall with +applause:<br> +<a name="fr333">Still</a> were you happy, in death's earthy +slumber,<br> + You rest with your clan, in the caves of Braemar<a href= +"#f333"><sup>5</sup></a>;<br> +The Pibroch<a href="#f334"><sup>6</sup></a> resounds, to the +piper's loud number,<br> + <a name="fr334">Your</a> deeds, on the echoes of dark Loch na +Garr.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Years have roll'd on, Loch na Garr, since I left you,<br> + Years must elapse, ere I tread you again:<br> +Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you,<br> + Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain:<br> +England! thy beauties are tame and domestic,<br> + To one who has rov'd on the mountains afar:<br> +<a name="fr335">Oh</a>! for the crags that are wild and +majestic,<br> + The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr<a href= +"#f335"><sup>7</sup></a>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f329"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý <i>Lachin y Gair</i>, or, as it is pronounced in the +Erse, <i>Loch na Garr</i>, towers proudly pre-eminent in the +Northern Highlands, near Invercauld. One of our modern tourists +mentions it as the highest mountain, perhaps, in Great Britain. +Be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and +picturesque amongst our "Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a +dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows. Near +Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the +recollection of which has given birth to the following stanzas. +[Prefixed to the poem in <i>Hours of Idleness</i> and <i>Poems O. +and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section64">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f330"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý This word is erroneously pronounced <i>plad</i>; the +proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the +orthography.<br> +<a href="#fr330">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f331"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +3:</span> Ý I allude here to my maternal ancestors, "the +Gordons," many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, +better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly +allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the Stuarts. George, +the second Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella +Stuart, daughter of James I. of Scotland. By her he left four +sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim +as one of my progenitors.<br> +<a href="#fr331">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f332"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +4:</span> ÝWhether any perished in the Battle of Culloden, I am +not certain; but, as many fell in the insurrection, I have used +the name of the principal action, "<i>pars pro toto</i>."<br> +<a href="#fr332">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f333"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +5:</span> Ý A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a +Castle of Braemar.<br> +<a href="#fr333">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f334"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +6:</span> Ý The Bagpipe.--<i>Hours of Idleness</i>. (<a href= +"#f284">See</a> note, p. 133.)<br> +<a href="#fr334">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f335"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +7:</span> ÝThe love of mountains to the last made Byron + +<blockquote>"Hail in each crag a friend's familiar face,<br> + And Loch na Garr with Ida looked o'er Troy."</blockquote> + + <i>The Island</i> (1823), Canto II. stanza xii.<br> +<a href="#fr335">return</a><br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section65">To Romance</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Parent of golden dreams, Romance!<br> + Auspicious Queen of childish joys,<br> +Who lead'st along, in airy dance,<br> + Thy votive train of girls and boys;<br> +At length, in spells no longer bound,<br> + I break the fetters of my youth;<br> +No more I tread thy mystic round,<br> + But leave thy realms for those of Truth.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + And yet 'tis hard to quit the dreams<br> + Which haunt the unsuspicious soul,<br> +Where every nymph a goddess seems<a href= +"#f338"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr338">Whose</a> eyes through rays immortal roll;<br> +While Fancy holds her boundless reign,<br> + And all assume a varied hue;<br> +When Virgins seem no longer vain,<br> + And even Woman's smiles are true.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + And must we own thee, but a name,<br> + And from thy hall of clouds descend?<br> +<a name="fr339">Nor</a> find a Sylph in every dame,<br> + A Pylades<a href="#f339"><sup>1</sup></a> in every friend?<br> +But leave, at once, thy realms of air<a href= +"#f340"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr340">To</a> mingling bands of fairy elves;<br> +Confess that woman's false as fair,<br> + And friends have feeling for--themselves?<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + With shame, I own, I've felt thy sway;<br> + Repentant, now thy reign is o'er;<br> +No more thy precepts I obey,<br> + No more on fancied pinions soar;<br> +Fond fool! to love a sparkling eye,<br> + And think that eye to truth was dear;<br> +To trust a passing wanton's sigh,<br> +And melt beneath a wanton's tear!<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Romance! disgusted with deceit,<br> + Far from thy motley court I fly,<br> +Where Affectation holds her seat,<br> + And sickly Sensibility;<br> +Whose silly tears can never flow<br> + For any pangs excepting thine;<br> +Who turns aside from real woe,<br> + To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Now join with sable Sympathy,<br> + With cypress crown'd, array'd in weeds,<br> +Who heaves with thee her simple sigh,<br> + Whose breast for every bosom bleeds;<br> +And call thy sylvan female choir,<br> + To mourn a Swain for ever gone,<br> +Who once could glow with equal fire,<br> + But bends not now before thy throne.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Ye genial Nymphs, whose ready tears<a href= +"#f341"><sup>c</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr341">On</a> all occasions swiftly flow;<br> +Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears,<br> + With fancied flames and phrenzy glow<br> +Say, will you mourn my absent name,<br> + Apostate from your gentle train?<br> +An infant Bard, at least, may claim<br> + From you a sympathetic strain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Adieu, fond race! a long adieu!<br> + The hour of fate is hovering nigh;<br> +E'en now the gulf appears in view,<br> + Where unlamented you must lie<a href= +"#f342"><sup>d</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr342">Oblivion's</a> blackening lake is seen,<br> + Convuls'd by gales you cannot weather,<br> +Where you, and eke your gentle queen,<br> + Alas! must perish altogether.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Romance footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f339"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý It is hardly necessary to +add, that Pylades was the companion of Orestes, and a partner in +one of those friendships which, with those of Achilles and +Patroclus, Nisus and Euryalus, Damon and Pythias, have been +handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of attachments, +which in all probability never existed beyond the imagination of +the poet, or the page of an historian, or modern novelist.<br> +<a href="#fr339">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f338"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>here every girl--...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr338">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f340"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>But quit at once thy realms of air<br> + Thy mingling ...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr340">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f341"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Auspicious bards...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr341">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f342"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Where you are doomed in death to +lie....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr342">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section66"></a>The Death of Calmar and Orla<a href= +"#f343"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b>An Imitation of Macpherson's <i>Ossian</i><a href= +"#f344"><sup>2</sup></a>.</b><br> +<br> +Dear are the days of youth! Age dwells on their remembrance +through the mist of time. In the twilight he recalls the sunny +hours of morn. He lifts his spear with trembling hand. "Not thus +feebly did I raise the steel before my fathers!" Past is the race +of heroes! But their fame rises on the harp; their souls ride on +the wings of the wind; they hear the sound through the sighs of +the storm, and rejoice in their hall of clouds. Such is Calmar. +The grey stone marks his narrow house. He looks down from eddying +tempests: he rolls his form in the whirlwind, and hovers on the +blast of the mountain.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr345">In</a> Morven dwelt the Chief; a beam of war to +Fingal. His steps in the field were marked in blood. Lochlin's +sons had fled before his angry spear<a href= +"#f345"><sup>a</sup></a>; but mild was the eye of Calmar; soft +was the flow of his yellow locks: they streamed like the meteor +of the night. No maid was the sigh of his soul: his thoughts were +given to friendship,--to dark-haired Orla, destroyer of heroes! +Equal were their swords in battle; but fierce was the pride of +Orla:--gentle alone to Calmar. Together they dwelt in the cave of +Oithona.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr346">From</a> Lochlin, Swaran bounded o'er the blue +waves. Erin's sons fell beneath his might. Fingal roused his +chiefs to combat<a href="#f346"><sup>b</sup></a>. Their ships +cover the ocean! Their hosts throng on the green hills. They come +to the aid of Erin.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr347">Night</a> rose in clouds. Darkness veils the +armies. But the blazing oaks gleam through the valley<a href= +"#f347"><sup>c</sup></a>. The sons of Lochlin slept: their dreams +were of blood. They lift the spear in thought, and Fingal flies. +Not so the Host of Morven. To watch was the post of Orla. Calmar +stood by his side. Their spears were in their hands. Fingal +called his chiefs: they stood around. The king was in the midst. +Grey were his locks, but strong was the arm of the king. Age +withered not his powers. "Sons of Morven," said the hero, +"to-morrow we meet the foe. But where is Cuthullin, the shield of +Erin? He rests in the halls of Tura; he knows not of our coming. +Who will speed through Lochlin, to the hero, and call the chief +to arms? The path is by the swords of foes; but many are my +heroes. They are thunderbolts of war. Speak, ye chiefs! Who will +arise?"<br> +<br> +"Son of Trenmor! mine be the deed," said dark-haired Orla, "and +mine alone. What is death to me? I love the sleep of the mighty, +but little is the danger. The sons of Lochlin dream. I will seek +car-borne Cuthullin. If I fall, raise the song of bards; and lay +me by the stream of Lubar."<br> +<br> +"And shalt thou fall alone?" said fair-haired Calmar. "Wilt thou +leave thy friend afar? Chief of Oithona! not feeble is my arm in +fight. Could I see thee die, and not lift the spear? No, Orla! +ours has been the chase of the roebuck, and the feast of shells; +ours be the path of danger: ours has been the cave of Oithona; +ours be the narrow dwelling on the banks of Lubar."<br> +<br> +"Calmar," said the chief of Oithona, "why should thy yellow locks +be darkened in the dust of Erin? Let me fall alone. My father +dwells in his hall of air: he will rejoice in his boy; but the +blue-eyed Mora spreads the feast for her Son in Morven. She +listens to the steps of the hunter on the heath, and thinks it is +the tread of Calmar. Let her not say, 'Calmar has fallen by the +steel of Lochlin: he died with gloomy Orla, the chief of the dark +brow.' Why should tears dim the azure eye of Mora? Why should her +voice curse Orla, the destroyer of Calmar? Live Calmar! Live to +raise my stone of moss; live to revenge me in the blood of +Lochlin. Join the song of bards above my grave. Sweet will be the +song of Death to Orla, from the voice of Calmar. My ghost shall +smile on the notes of Praise."<br> +<br> +"Orla," said the son of Mora, "could I raise the song of Death to +my friend? Could I give his fame to the winds? No, my heart would +speak in sighs: faint and broken are the sounds of sorrow. Orla! +our souls shall hear the song together. One cloud shall be ours +on high: the bards will mingle the names of Orla and Calmar."<br> +<br> +They quit the circle of the Chiefs. Their steps are to the Host +of Lochlin. The dying blaze of oak dim-twinkles through the +night. The northern star points the path to Tura. Swaran, the +King, rests on his lonely hill. Here the troops are mixed: they +frown in sleep; their shields beneath their heads. Their swords +gleam, at distance in heaps. The fires are faint; their embers +fail in smoke. All is hushed; but the gale sighs on the rocks +above. Lightly wheel the Heroes through the slumbering band. Half +the journey is past, when Mathon, resting on his shield, meets +the eye of Orla. It rolls in flame, and glistens through the +shade. His spear is raised on high.<br> +<br> +"Why dost thou bend thy brow, chief of Oithona?" said fair-haired +Calmar: "we are in the midst of foes. Is this a time for +delay?"<br> +<br> +"It is a time for vengeance," said Orla of the gloomy brow. +"Mathon of Lochlin sleeps: seest thou his spear? Its point is dim +with the gore of my father. The blood of Mathon shall reek on +mine: but shall I slay him sleeping, Son of Mora? No! he shall +feel his wound: my fame shall not soar on the blood of slumber. +Rise, Mathon, rise! The Son of Conna calls; thy life is his; rise +to combat."<br> +<br> +Mathon starts from sleep: but did he rise alone? No: the +gathering Chiefs bound on the plain.<br> +<br> +"Fly! Calmar, fly!" said dark-haired Orla. "Mathon is mine. I +shall die in joy: but Lochlin crowds around. Fly through the +shade of night."<br> +<br> +<a name="fr348">Orla</a> turns. The helm of Mathon is cleft; his +shield falls from his arm: he shudders in his blood<a href= +"#f348"><sup>d</sup></a>. He rolls by the side of the blazing +oak. Strumon sees him fall: his wrath rises: his weapon glitters +on the head of Orla: but a spear pierced his eye. His brain +gushes through the wound, and foams on the spear of Calmar. As +roll the waves of the Ocean on two mighty barks of the North, so +pour the men of Lochlin on the Chiefs. As, breaking the surge in +foam, proudly steer the barks of the North, so rise the Chiefs of +Morven on the scattered crests of Lochlin. The din of arms came +to the ear of Fingal. He strikes his shield; his sons throng +around; the people pour along the heath. Ryno bounds in joy. +Ossian stalks in his arms. Oscar shakes the spear. The eagle wing +of Fillan floats on the wind. Dreadful is the clang of death! +many are the Widows of Lochlin. Morven prevails in its +strength.<br> +<br> +Morn glimmers on the hills: no living foe is seen; but the +sleepers are many; grim they lie on Erin. The breeze of Ocean +lifts their locks; yet they do not awake. The hawks scream above +their prey.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr349">Whose</a> yellow locks wave o'er the breast of a +chief? Bright as the gold of the stranger, they mingle with the +dark hair of his friend. 'Tis Calmar: he lies on the bosom of +Orla. Theirs is one stream of blood. Fierce is the look of the +gloomy Orla. He breathes not; but his eye is still a flame. It +glares in death unclosed. His hand is grasped in Calmar's; but +Calmar lives! he lives, though low. "Rise," said the king, "rise, +son of Mora: 'tis mine to heal the wounds of Heroes. Calmar may +yet bound on the hills of Morven."<a href= +"#f349"><sup>e</sup></a><br> +<br> +"Never more shall Calmar chase the deer of Morven with Orla," +said the Hero. "What were the chase to me alone? Who would share +the spoils of battle with Calmar? Orla is at rest! Rough was thy +soul, Orla! yet soft to me as the dew of morn. It glared on +others in lightning: to me a silver beam of night. Bear my sword +to blue-eyed Mora; let it hang in my empty hall. It is not pure +from blood: but it could not save Orla. Lay me with my friend: +raise the song when I am dark!"<br> +<br> +They are laid by the stream of Lubar. Four grey stones mark the +dwelling of Orla and Calmar. When Swaran was bound, our sails +rose on the blue waves. The winds gave our barks to Morven:--the +bards raised the song.<br> +<br> +"<a name="fr350">What</a> Form rises on the roar of clouds? Whose +dark Ghost gleams on the red streams of tempests? His voice rolls +on the thunder. 'Tis Orla, the brown Chief of Oithona. He was +unmatched in war. Peace to thy soul, Orla! thy fame will not +perish. Nor thine, Calmar! Lovely wast thou, son of blue-eyed +Mora; but not harmless was thy sword. It hangs in thy cave. The +Ghosts of Lochlin shriek around its steel. Hear thy praise, +Calmar! It dwells on the voice of the mighty. Thy name shakes on +the echoes of Morven. Then raise thy fair locks, son of Mora. +Spread them on the arch of the rainbow, and smile through the +tears of the storm<a href="#f350"><sup>3</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<table summary="Ossian footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f343"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The MS. is preserved at +Newstead.<br> + <a href="#section66">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f345"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Erin's sons--</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr345">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f344"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý It may be necessary to +observe, that the story, though considerably varied in the +catastrophe, is taken from <i>Nisus and Euryalus</i>, of which +episode a translation is already given in the present volume [<a +href="#section62">see</a> pp. 151-168].<br> +<a href="#section66">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f346"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The horn of Fingal--</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr346">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f350"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý I fear Laing's late +edition has completely overthrown every hope that Macpherson's +<i>Ossian</i> might prove the translation of a series of poems +complete in themselves; but, while the imposture is discovered, +the merit of the work remains undisputed, though not without +faults--particularly, in some parts, turgid and bombastic +diction.--The present humble imitation will be pardoned by the +admirers of the original as an attempt, however inferior, which +evinces an attachment to their favourite author.<br> +[Malcolm Laing (1762-1818) published, in 1802, a <i>History of +Scotland, etc.</i>, with a dissertation "on the supposed +authenticity of Ossian's Poems," and, in 1805, a work entitled +<i>The Poems of Ossian, etc., containing the Poetical Works of +James Macpherson, Esq., in Prose and Rhyme, with Notes and +Illustrations</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr350">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f347"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>--the fires gleam--</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr347">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f348"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>He trembles in his blood. He rolls +convulsive...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr348">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f349"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>-the mountain of Morven.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr349">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section67"></a>To Edward Noel Long, Esq.<a href= +"#f351"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a> <a +href="#f352"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>"Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico."<br> +<br> +Horace.</i><br> +<br> +<br> +Dear <b>Long</b>, in this sequester'd scene<a href= +"#f353"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr353">While</a> all around in slumber lie,<br> +The joyous days, which ours have been<br> + Come rolling fresh on Fancy's eye;<br> +Thus, if, amidst the gathering storm,<br> +While clouds the darken'd noon deform,<br> +Yon heaven assumes a varied glow,<br> +I hail the sky's celestial bow,<br> +Which spreads the sign of future peace,<br> +And bids the war of tempests cease.<br> +Ah! though the present brings but pain,<br> +I think those days may come again;<br> +<a name="fr354">Or</a> if, in melancholy mood,<br> +Some lurking envious fear intrude<a href= +"#f354"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> +To check my bosom's fondest thought,<br> + And interrupt the golden dream,<br> +I crush the fiend with malice fraught,<br> + And, still, indulge my wonted theme.<br> +Although we ne'er again can trace,<br> + In Granta's vale, the pedant's lore,<br> +Nor through the groves of Ida chase<br> + Our raptured visions, as before;<br> +Though Youth has flown on rosy pinion,<br> +And Manhood claims his stern dominion,<br> +Age will not every hope destroy,<br> +But yield some hours of sober joy.<br> + Yes, I will hope that Time's broad wing<br> +Will shed around some dews of spring:<br> +But, if his scythe must sweep the flowers<br> +Which bloom among the fairy bowers,<br> +Where smiling Youth delights to dwell,<br> +And hearts with early rapture swell;<br> +If frowning Age, with cold controul,<br> +Confines the current of the soul,<br> +Congeals the tear of Pity's eye,<br> +Or checks the sympathetic sigh,<br> +Or hears, unmov'd, Misfortune's groan<br> +And bids me feel for self alone;<br> +Oh! may my bosom never learn<br> + To soothe its wonted heedless flow<a href= +"#f355"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr355">Still</a>, still, despise the censor stern,<br> + But ne'er forget another's woe.<br> +Yes, as you knew me in the days,<br> + O'er which Remembrance yet delays<a href= +"#f356"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr356">Still</a> may I rove untutor'd, wild,<br> + And even in age, at heart a child<a href= +"#f357"><sup>f</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr357">Though</a>, now, on airy visions borne,<br> + To you my soul is still the same.<br> +Oft has it been my fate to mourn<a href= +"#f358"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr358">And</a> all my former joys are tame:<br> +But, hence! ye hours of sable hue!<br> + Your frowns are gone, my sorrows o'er:<br> +By every bliss my childhood knew,<br> + I'll think upon your shade no more.<br> +Thus, when the whirlwind's rage is past,<br> + And caves their sullen roar enclose<a href= +"#f359"><sup>h</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr359">We</a> heed no more the wintry blast,<br> + When lull'd by zephyr to repose.<br> +Full often has my infant Muse,<br> + Attun'd to love her languid lyre;<br> +But, now, without a theme to choose,<br> + <a name="fr360">The</a> strains in stolen sighs expire.<br> +My youthful nymphs, alas! are flown<a href= +"#f360"><sup>i</sup></a>;<br> + E---- is a wife, and C---- a mother,<br> +And Carolina sighs alone,<br> + And Mary's given to another;<br> +And Cora's eye, which roll'd on me,<br> + Can now no more my love recall--<br> +In truth, dear <b>Long</b>, 'twas time to flee--<a href= +"#f361"><sup>j</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr361">For</a> Cora's eye will shine on all.<br> +And though the Sun, with genial rays,<br> +His beams alike to all displays,<br> +And every lady's eye's a <i>sun</i>,<br> +These last should be confin'd to one.<br> +The soul's meridian don't become her<a href= +"#f362"><sup>k</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr362">Whose</a> Sun displays a general +<i>summer</i>!<br> +<a name="fr363">Thus</a> faint is every former flame,<br> +And Passion's self is now a name<a href="#f363"><sup>m</sup></a> +<a href="#f364"><sup>n</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr364">As</a>, when the ebbing flames are low,<br> + The aid which once improv'd their light,<br> +And bade them burn with fiercer glow,<br> + Now quenches all their sparks in night;<br> +Thus has it been with Passion's fires,<br> + As many a boy and girl remembers,<br> +While all the force of love expires,<br> + Extinguish'd with the dying embers.<br> + But now, dear <b>Long</b>, 'tis midnight's noon,<br> +And clouds obscure the watery moon,<br> +Whose beauties I shall not rehearse,<br> +Describ'd in every stripling's verse;<br> +For why should I the path go o'er<br> +Which every bard has trod before<a href= +"#f365"><sup>o</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr365">Yet</a> ere yon silver lamp of night<br> + Has thrice perform'd her stated round,<br> +Has thrice retrac'd her path of light,<br> + And chas'd away the gloom profound,<br> +I trust, that we, my gentle Friend,<br> +Shall see her rolling orbit wend,<br> +Above the dear-lov'd peaceful seat,<br> +Which once contain'd our youth's retreat;<br> +And, then, with those our childhood knew,<br> +We'll mingle in the festive crew;<br> +While many a tale of former day<br> +Shall wing the laughing hours away;<br> +And all the flow of souls shall pour<br> +The sacred intellectual shower,<br> +Nor cease, till Luna's waning horn,<br> +Scarce glimmers through the mist of Morn.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Long footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f351"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý The MS. of these verses is +at Newstead. Long was with Byron at Harrow, and was the only one +of his intimate friends who went up at the same time as he did to +Cambridge, where both were noted for feats of swimming and +diving. Long entered the Guards, and served in the expedition to +Copenhagen. He was drowned early in 1809, when on his way to join +the army in the Peninsula; the transport in which he sailed being +run down in the night by another of the convoy. + +<blockquote>"Long's father," says Byron, "wrote to me to write +his son's epitaph. I promised--but I had not the heart to +complete it. He was such a good, amiable being as rarely remains +long in this world; with talent and accomplishments, too, to make +him the more regretted."</blockquote> + +<i>Diary</i>, 1821; <i>Life</i>, p. 32. See also memorandum +(<i>Life</i>, p. 31, col. ii.).<br> +<a href="#section67">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f352"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>To E. N. L. Esq...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness. Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section67">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f353"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Dear L----.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr353">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f354"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Some daring envious...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr354">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f355"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>its young romantic flow...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr355">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f356"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>O'er which my fancy...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr356">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f357"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Still may my breast to boyhood cleave,<br> + With every early passion heave;<br> + Still may I rove untutored, wild,<br> + But never cease to seem a child....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr357">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f358"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Since we have met, I learnt to +mourn...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr358">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f359"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And caves their sullen war...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr359">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f360"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote i:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>--thank Heaven are flown...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr360">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f361"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>In truth dear L----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness. Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr361">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f362"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The glances really don't become +her...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr362">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f363"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>No more I linger on its name...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr363">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f364"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And passion's self is but a +name...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr364">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f365"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And what's much worse than this I find<br> + Have left their deepen'd tracks behind<br> + Yet as yon...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr365">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a><br> +<a href="#section90">cross-reference: return to "On the Eyes of +Miss A—— H——</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section68"></a>To a Lady<a href="#f366"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Oh! had my Fate been join'd with thine<a href= +"#f367"><sup>1</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr367a">As</a> once this pledge appear'd a token,<br> +These follies had not, then, been mine,<br> + For, then, my peace had not been broken.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + To thee, these early faults I owe,<br> + To thee, the wise and old reproving:<br> +They know my sins, but do not know<br> + 'Twas thine to break the bonds of loving.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + For once my soul, like thine, was pure,<br> + And all its rising fires could smother;<br> +<a name="fr367b">But</a>, now, thy vows no more endure,<br> + Bestow'd by thee upon another<a href= +"#f367"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Perhaps, his peace I could destroy,<br> + And spoil the blisses that await him;<br> +Yet let my Rival smile in joy,<br> + For thy dear sake, I cannot hate him.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Ah! since thy angel form is gone,<br> + My heart no more can rest with any;<br> +But what it sought in thee alone,<br> + Attempts, alas! to find in many.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid!<br> + 'Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee;<br> +Nor Hope, nor Memory yield their aid,<br> + But Pride may teach me to forget thee.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Yet all this giddy waste of years,<br> + This tiresome round of palling pleasures;<br> +These varied loves, these matrons' fears,<br> + These thoughtless strains to Passion's measures--<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + If thou wert mine, had all been hush'd:--<br> + This cheek, now pale from early riot,<br> +With Passion's hectic ne'er had flush'd,<br> + But bloom'd in calm domestic quiet.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Yes, once the rural Scene was sweet,<br> + For Nature seem'd to smile before thee;<br> +And once my Breast abhorr'd deceit,--<br> + For then it beat but to adore thee.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + But, now, I seek for other joys--<br> + To think, would drive my soul to madness;<br> +In thoughtless throngs, and empty noise,<br> + I conquer half my Bosom's sadness.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + Yet, even in these, a thought will steal,<br> + In spite of every vain endeavour;<br> +And fiends might pity what I feel--<br> + To know that thou art lost for ever.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Lady footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f367"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý These verses were +addressed to Mrs. Chaworth Musters. Byron wrote in 1822, + +<blockquote>"Our meetings were stolen ones. ... A gate leading +from Mr. Chaworth's grounds to those of my mother was the place +of our interviews. The ardour was all on my side. I was serious; +she was volatile: she liked me as a younger brother, and treated +and laughed at me as a boy; she, however, gave me her picture, +and that was something to make verses upon. Had I married her, +perhaps, the whole tenour of my life would have been +different."</blockquote> + +Medwin's <i>Conversations</i>, 1824, p. 81.<br> +<a href="#fr367a">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<a href="#fr367b">return to second footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f366"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>To------...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Hours of Idleness. Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section68">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section69">Poems Original and Translated</a></h2> + +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section70"></a>When I Roved a Young Highlander<a href= +"#f368"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr369">When</a> I rov'd a young Highlander o'er the +dark heath,<br> + And climb'd thy steep summit, oh Morven of snow<a href= +"#f369"><sup>1</sup></a>!<br> +To gaze on the torrent that thunder'd beneath,<br> + Or the mist of the tempest that gather'd below<a href= +"#f370"><sup>2</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr370">Untutor'd</a> by science, a stranger to fear,<br> + And rude as the rocks, where my infancy grew,<br> +<a name="fr371">No</a> feeling, save one, to my bosom was +dear;<br> + Need I say, my sweet Mary<a href="#f371"><sup>3</sup></a>, 'twas +centred in you?<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Yet it could not be Love, for I knew not the name,--<br> + What passion can dwell in the heart of a child?<br> +But, still, I perceive an emotion the same<br> + As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-cover'd wild:<br> +One image, alone, on my bosom impress'd,<br> + I lov'd my bleak regions, nor panted for new;<br> +And few were my wants, for my wishes were bless'd,<br> + And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was with you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + I arose with the dawn, with my dog as my guide,<br> + <a name="fr372">From</a> mountain to mountain I bounded +along;<br> +I breasted<a href="#f372"><sup>4</sup></a> the billows of Dee's<a +href="#f373"><sup>5</sup></a> rushing tide,<br> + <a name="fr373">And</a> heard at a distance the Highlander's +song:<br> +At eve, on my heath-cover'd couch of repose.<br> + No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to my view;<br> +And warm to the skies my devotions arose,<br> + For the first of my prayers was a blessing on you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + I left my bleak home, and my visions are gone;<br> + The mountains are vanish'd, my youth is no more;<br> +As the last of my race, I must wither alone,<br> + And delight but in days, I have witness'd before:<br> +Ah! splendour has rais'd, but embitter'd my lot;<br> + More dear were the scenes which my infancy knew:<br> +Though my hopes may have fail'd, yet they are not<br> + forgot,<br> +Though cold is my heart, still it lingers with you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + When I see some dark hill point its crest to the sky,<br> + I think of the rocks that o'ershadow Colbleen<a href= +"#f374"><sup>6</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr374">When</a> I see the soft blue of a love-speaking +eye,<br> + I think of those eyes that endear'd the rude scene;<br> +When, haply, some light-waving locks I behold,<br> + That faintly resemble my Mary's in hue,<br> +I think on the long flowing ringlets of gold,<br> + The locks that were sacred to beauty, and you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Yet the day may arrive, when the mountains once more<br> + Shall rise to my sight, in their mantles of snow;<br> +But while these soar above me, unchang'd as before,<br> + Will Mary be there to receive me?--ah, no!<br> +Adieu, then, ye hills, where my childhood was bred!<br> + Thou sweet flowing Dee, to thy waters adieu!<br> +No home in the forest shall shelter my head,--<br> + Ah! Mary, what home could be mine, but with you?</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Highland footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f369"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý Morven, a lofty mountain +in Aberdeenshire. "Gormal of snow" is an expression frequently to +be found in Ossian.<br> +<a href="#fr369">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f368"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Song...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section70">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f370"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý This will not appear +extraordinary to those who have been accustomed to the mountains. +It is by no means uncommon, on attaining the top of Ben-e-vis, +Ben-y-bourd, etc., to perceive, between the summit and the +valley, clouds pouring down rain, and occasionally accompanied by +lightning, while the spectator literally looks down upon the +storm, perfectly secure from its effects.<br> +<a href="#fr370">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f371"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Byron, in early youth, was +"unco' wastefu'" of Marys. + +<ul> +<li>There was his distant cousin, Mary Duff (afterwards Mrs. +Robert Cockburn), who lived not far from the "Plain-Stanes" at +Aberdeen. Her "brown, dark hair, and hazel eyes--her very dress," +were long years after "a perfect image" in his memory +(<i>Life</i>, p. 9).</li> + +<li>Secondly, there was the Mary of these stanzas, "with +long-flowing ringlets of gold," the "Highland Mary" of local +tradition. She was (writes the Rev. J. Michie, of The Manse, +Dinnet) the daughter of James Robertson, of the farmhouse of +Ballatrich on Deeside, where Byron used to spend his summer +holidays (1796-98). She was of gentle birth, and through her +mother, the daughter of Captain Macdonald of Rineton, traced her +descent to the Lord of the Isles. "She died at Aberdeen, March 2, +1867, aged eighty-five years."</li> + +<li>A third Mary (see <a href="#section23">"Lines to Mary,"</a> +etc., p. 32) flits through the early poems, evanescent but +unspiritual.</li> + +<li>Last of all, there was Mary Anne Chaworth, of Annesley (see +<a href="#section76">"A Fragment,"</a> etc., p. 210; <a href= +"#section88">"The Adieu,"</a> st. 6, p. 239, etc.), whose +marriage, in 1805, "threw him out again--alone on a wide, wide +sea" (<i>Life</i>, p. 85).</li> +</ul> + +<a href="#fr371">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f372"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý "Breasting the lofty +surge" (Shakespeare).<br> + <a href="#fr372">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f373"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý The Dee is a beautiful +river, which rises near Mar Lodge, and falls into the sea at New +Aberdeen.<br> +<a href="#fr373">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f374"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý Colbleen is a mountain +near the verge of the Highlands, not far from the ruins of Dee +Castle.<br> +<a href="#fr374">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section71"></a>To the Duke of Dorset<a href= +"#f375"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a> <a +href="#f376"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<table summary="Dorset" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding= +"10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%">Dorset! whose early steps with mine have +stray'd<a href="#f377"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> +Exploring every path of Ida's glade;<br> +Whom, still, affection taught me to defend,<br> +And made me less a tyrant than a friend,<br> +Though the harsh custom of our youthful band<br> +Bade <i>thee</i> obey, and gave <i>me</i> to command<a href= +"#f378"><sup>2</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr378">Thee</a>, on whose head a few short years will +shower<br> +The gift of riches, and the pride of power;<br> +E'en now a name illustrious is thine own,<br> +Renown'd in rank, not far beneath the throne.<br> +Yet, Dorset, let not this seduce thy soul<a href= +"#f382"><sup>c</sup></a> <br> +<a name="fr382">To</a> shun fair science, or evade controul;<br> +Though passive tutors<a href="#f379"><sup>3</sup></a>, fearful to +dispraise<br> +<a name="fr379">The</a> titled child, whose future breath may +raise,<br> +View ducal errors with indulgent eyes,<br> +And wink at faults they tremble to chastise.<br> +When youthful parasites, who bend the knee<br> +To wealth, their golden idol, not to thee,--<br> +And even in simple boyhood's opening dawn<br> +Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn,--<br> +When these declare, "that pomp alone should wait<br> +On one by birth predestin'd to be great;<br> +That books were only meant for drudging fools,<br> +That gallant spirits scorn the common rules;"<br> +Believe them not,--they point the path to shame,<br> +And seek to blast the honours of thy name:<br> +Turn to the few in Ida's early throng,<br> +Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong;<br> +Or if, amidst the comrades of thy youth,<br> +None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth,<br> +Ask thine own heart--'twill bid thee, boy, forbear!<br> +For <i>well</i> I know that virtue lingers there.<br> +Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day,<br> +But now new scenes invite me far away;<br> +Yes! I have mark'd within that generous mind<br> +A soul, if well matur'd, to bless mankind;<br> +Ah! though myself, by nature haughty, wild,<br> +Whom Indiscretion hail'd her favourite child;<br> +Though every error stamps me for her own,<br> +And dooms my fall, I fain would fall alone;<br> +Though my proud heart no precept, now, can tame,<br> +I love the virtues which I cannot claim.<br> +'Tis not enough, with other sons of power,<br> +To gleam the lambent meteor of an hour;<br> +To swell some peerage page in feeble pride,<br> +With long-drawn names that grace no page beside;<br> +Then share with titled crowds the common lot--<br> +In life just gaz'd at, in the grave forgot;<br> +While nought divides thee from the vulgar dead,<br> +Except the dull cold stone that hides thy head,<br> +The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the Herald's roll,<br> +That well-emblazon'd but neglected scroll,<br> +Where Lords, unhonour'd, in the tomb may find<br> +One spot, to leave a worthless name behind.<br> +There sleep, unnotic'd as the gloomy vaults<br> +That veil their dust, their follies, and their faults,<br> +A race, with old armorial lists o'erspread,<br> +In records destin'd never to be read.<br> +Fain would I view thee, with prophetic eyes,<br> +Exalted more among the good and wise;<br> +A glorious and a long career pursue,<br> +As first in Rank, the first in Talent too:<br> +Spurn every vice, each little meanness shun;<br> +Not Fortune's minion, but her noblest son.<br> + Turn to the annals of a former day;<br> +Bright are the deeds thine earlier Sires display;<br> +One, though a courtier, lived a man of worth,<br> +And call'd, proud boast! the British drama forth<a href= +"#f380"><sup>4</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr380">Another</a> view! not less renown'd for Wit;<br> +Alike for courts, and camps, or senates fit;<br> +Bold in the field, and favour'd by the Nine;<br> +In every splendid part ordain'd to shine;<br> +Far, far distinguished from the glittering throng,<br> +The pride of Princes, and the boast of Song<a href= +"#f381"><sup>5</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr381">Such</a> were thy Fathers; thus preserve their +name,<br> +Not heir to titles only, but to Fame.<br> +The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close,<br> +To me, this little scene of joys and woes;<br> +Each knell of Time now warns me to resign<br> +Shades where Hope, Peace, and Friendship all were mine:<br> +Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue,<br> +And gild their pinions, as the moments flew;<br> +Peace, that reflection never frown'd away,<br> +By dreams of ill to cloud some future day;<br> +Friendship, whose truth let Childhood only tell;<br> +Alas! they love not long, who love so well.<br> +To these adieu! nor let me linger o'er<br> +Scenes hail'd, as exiles hail their native shore,<br> +Receding slowly, through the dark-blue deep,<br> +Beheld by eyes that mourn, yet cannot weep.<br> + Dorset, farewell! I will not ask one part<a href= +"#f383"><sup>d</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr383">Of</a> sad remembrance in so young a heart;<br> +The coming morrow from thy youthful mind<br> +Will sweep my name, nor leave a trace behind.<br> +And, yet, perhaps, in some maturer year,<br> +Since chance has thrown us in the self-same sphere,<br> +Since the same senate, nay, the same debate,<br> +May one day claim our suffrage for the state,<br> +We hence may meet, and pass each other by<br> +With faint regard, or cold and distant eye.<br> +For me, in future, neither friend nor foe,<br> +A stranger to thyself, thy weal or woe--<br> +With thee no more again I hope to trace<br> +The recollection of our early race;<br> +No more, as once, in social hours rejoice,<br> +Or hear, unless in crowds, thy well-known voice;<br> +Still, if the wishes of a heart untaught<br> +To veil those feelings, which, perchance, it ought,<br> +If these,--but let me cease the lengthen'd strain,--<br> +Oh! if these wishes are not breath'd in vain,<br> +The Guardian Seraph who directs thy fate<br> +Will leave thee glorious, as he found thee great.<br> +1805.</td> +<td width="50%"><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +100<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +110<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Dorset footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f376"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý In looking over my papers +to select a few additional poems for this second edition, I found +the above lines, which I had totally forgotten, composed in the +summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from +H[arrow]. They were addressed to a young schoolfellow of high +rank, who had been my frequent companion in some rambles through +the neighbouring country: however, he never saw the lines, and +most probably never will. As, on a re-perusal, I found them not +worse than some other pieces in the collection, I have now +published them, for the first time, after a slight revision.<br> +[The foregoing note was prefixed to the poem in <i>Poems O. and +T</i>. George John Frederick, 4th Duke of Dorset, born 1793, was +killed by a fall from his horse when hunting, in 1815, while on a +visit to his step-father the Earl of Whitworth, Lord-Lieutenant +of Ireland. (See Byron's letter to Moore, Feb. 22, 1815).]<br> +<a href="#section71">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f375"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>o the Duke of D-----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section71">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f378"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý At every public school the +junior boys are completely subservient to the upper forms till +they attain a seat in the higher classes. From this state of +probation, very properly, no rank is exempt; but after a certain +period, they command in turn those who succeed.<br> +<a href="#fr378">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f377"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>D-r-t -----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr377">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f379"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý Allow me to disclaim any +personal allusions, even the most distant. I merely mention +generally what is too often the weakness of preceptors.<br> +<a href="#fr379">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f382"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Yet D-r-t-----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr382">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f380"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, was born in 1527. +While a student of the Inner Temple, he wrote his tragedy of +<i>Gorboduc</i>, which was played before Queen Elizabeth at +Whitehall, in 1561. This tragedy, and his contribution of the +Induction and legend of the Duke of Buckingham to the <i>Mirrour +for Magistraytes</i>, compose the poetical history of Sackville. +The rest of it was political. In 1604, he was created Earl of +Dorset by James I. He died suddenly at the council-table, in +consequence of a dropsy on the brain."</blockquote> + +--<i>Specimens of the British Poets</i>, by Thomas Campbell, +London, 1819, ii. 134, <i>sq</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr380">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f383"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>D--r--t farewell...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr383">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f381"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý Charles Sackville, Earl of +Dorset [1637-1706], esteemed the most accomplished man of his +day, was alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of Charles +II. and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with great +gallantry in the sea-fight with the Dutch in 1665; on the day +previous to which he composed his celebrated song ("<i>To all you +Ladies now at Land</i>"). His character has been drawn in the +highest colours by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve. <i>Vide</i> +Anderson's <i>British Poets</i>, 1793, vi. 107, 108.<br> +<a href="#fr381">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section72"></a>To the Earl of Clare<a href="#f384"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>Tu semper amoris<br> + Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago.<br> +<br> + Val. Flac. 'Argonaut', iv. 36.</i><br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + Friend of my youth! when young we rov'd,<br> +Like striplings, mutually belov'd,<br> + With Friendship's purest glow;<br> +The bliss, which wing'd those rosy hours,<br> +Was such as Pleasure seldom showers<br> + On mortals here below.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + The recollection seems, alone,<br> +Dearer than all the joys I've known,<br> + When distant far from you:<br> +Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain,<br> +To trace those days and hours again,<br> + And sigh again, adieu!<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + My pensive mem'ry lingers o'er,<br> +Those scenes to be enjoy'd no more,<br> + Those scenes regretted ever;<br> +The measure of our youth is full,<br> +Life's evening dream is dark and dull,<br> + And we may meet--ah! never!<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + As when one parent spring supplies<br> +Two streams, which from one fountain rise,<br> + Together join'd in vain;<br> +How soon, diverging from their source,<br> +Each, murmuring, seeks another course,<br> + Till mingled in the Main!<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Our vital streams of weal or woe,<br> +Though near, alas! distinctly flow,<br> + Nor mingle as before:<br> +Now swift or slow, now black or clear,<br> +Till Death's unfathom'd gulph appear,<br> + And both shall quit the shore.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Our souls, my Friend! which once supplied<br> +One wish, nor breathed a thought beside,<br> + Now flow in different channels:<br> +Disdaining humbler rural sports,<br> +'Tis yours to mix in polish'd courts,<br> + And shine in Fashion's annals;<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + 'Tis mine to waste on love my time,<br> +Or vent my reveries in rhyme,<br> + Without the aid of Reason;<br> +For Sense and Reason (critics know it)<br> +Have quitted every amorous Poet,<br> + Nor left a thought to seize on.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Poor <b>Little</b>! sweet, melodious bard!<br> +Of late esteem'd it monstrous hard<br> + That he, who sang before all;<br> +He who the lore of love expanded,<br> +<a name="fr385">By</a> dire Reviewers should be branded,<br> + As void of wit and moral<a href="#f385"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + And yet, while Beauty's praise is thine,<br> +Harmonious favourite of the Nine!<br> + Repine not at thy lot.<br> +Thy soothing lays may still be read,<br> +When Persecution's arm is dead,<br> + And critics are forgot.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + Still I must yield those worthies merit<br> +Who chasten, with unsparing spirit,<br> + Bad rhymes, and those who write them:<br> +And though myself may be the next<br> +<a name="fr386">By</a> critic sarcasm to be vext,<br> + I really will not fight them<a href= +"#f386"><sup>2</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + Perhaps they would do quite as well<br> +To break the rudely sounding shell<br> + Of such a young beginner:<br> +He who offends at pert nineteen,<br> +Ere thirty may become, I ween,<br> + A very harden'd sinner.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +Now, Clare, I must return to you<a href= +"#f387"><sup>b</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr387">And</a>, sure, apologies are due:<br> + Accept, then, my concession.<br> +In truth, dear Clare, in Fancy's flight<a href= +"#f388"><sup>c</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr388">I</a> soar along from left to right;<br> + My Muse admires digression.<br> +<br> +<br> + 13.<br> +<br> + I think I said 'twould be your fate<br> +To add one star to royal state;--<br> + May regal smiles attend you!<br> +And should a noble Monarch reign,<br> +You will not seek his smiles in vain,<br> + If worth can recommend you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 14.<br> +<br> + Yet since in danger courts abound,<br> +Where specious rivals glitter round,<br> + From snares may Saints preserve you;<br> +And grant your love or friendship ne'er<br> +From any claim a kindred care,<br> + But those who best deserve you!<br> +<br> +<br> + 15.<br> +<br> + Not for a moment may you stray<br> +From Truth's secure, unerring way!<br> + May no delights decoy!<br> +O'er roses may your footsteps move,<br> +Your smiles be ever smiles of love,<br> + Your tears be tears of joy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 16.<br> +<br> + Oh! if you wish that happiness<br> +Your coming days and years may bless,<br> + And virtues crown your brow;<br> +Be still as you were wont to be,<br> +<a name="fr389">Spotless</a> as you've been known to me,--<br> + Be still as you are now<a href="#f389"><sup>3</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 17.<br> +<br> + And though some trifling share of praise,<br> +To cheer my last declining days,<br> + To me were doubly dear;<br> +Whilst blessing your beloved name,<br> +I'd <i>waive</i> at once a <i>Poet's</i> fame,<br> + To <i>prove</i> a <i>Prophet</i> here.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1807.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Clare footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f385"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý These stanzas were written +soon after the appearance of a severe critique in a northern +review, on a new publication of the British Anacreon. (Byron +refers to the article in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, of July, +1807, on "<i>Epistles, Odes, and other Poems</i>, by Thomas +Little, Esq.")<br> +<a href="#fr385">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f384"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>To the Earl of -----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section72">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f386"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý A bard [Moore] +(<i>Horresco referens</i>) defied his reviewer [Jeffrey] to +mortal combat. If this example becomes prevalent, our Periodical +Censors must be dipped in the river Styx: for what else can +secure them from the numerous host of their enraged assailants? +[Cf. <a href="#fr580"><i>English Bards</i>, l. 466</a> (click on +c3 to return), <a href="#f582"><i>note</i></a>.]<br> +<a href="#fr386">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f387"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Now ---- I must...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr387">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f389"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"Of all I have ever known, Clare has always been the +least altered in everything from the excellent qualities and kind +affections which attached me to him so strongly at school. I +should hardly have thought it possible for society (or the world, +as it is called) to leave a being with so little of the leaven of +bad passions. I do not speak from personal experience only, but +from all I have ever heard of him from others, during absence and +distance."</blockquote> + +<i>Detached Thoughts</i>, Nov. 5, 1821; <i>Life</i>, p. 540.<br> +<a href="#fr389">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f388"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>In truth dear ---- in fancy's +flight...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr388">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section73"></a>I would I were a Careless Child<a href= +"#f390"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + I would I were a careless child,<br> + Still dwelling in my Highland cave,<br> +Or roaming through the dusky wild,<br> + Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave;<br> +The cumbrous pomp of Saxon<a href="#f391"><sup>1</sup></a> +pride,<br> + <a name="fr391">Accords</a> not with the freeborn soul,<br> +Which loves the mountain's craggy side,<br> + And seeks the rocks where billows roll.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Fortune! take back these cultur'd lands,<br> + Take back this name of splendid sound!<br> +I hate the touch of servile hands,<br> + I hate the slaves that cringe around:<br> +Place me among the rocks I love,<br> + Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar;<br> +I ask but this--again to rove<br> + Through scenes my youth hath known before.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Few are my years, and yet I feel<br> + The World was ne'er design'd for me:<br> +Ah! why do dark'ning shades conceal<br> + The hour when man must cease to be?<br> +Once I beheld a splendid dream,<br> + A visionary scene of bliss:<br> +Truth!--wherefore did thy hated beam<br> + Awake me to a world like this?<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + I lov'd--but those I lov'd are gone;<br> + Had friends--my early friends are fled:<br> +How cheerless feels the heart alone,<br> + When all its former hopes are dead!<br> +Though gay companions, o'er the bowl<br> + Dispel awhile the sense of ill;<br> +Though Pleasure stirs the maddening soul,<br> + The heart--the heart--is lonely still.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + How dull! to hear the voice of those<br> + Whom Rank or Chance, whom Wealth or Power,<br> +Have made, though neither friends nor foes,<br> + Associates of the festive hour.<br> +Give me again a faithful few,<br> + In years and feelings still the same,<br> +And I will fly the midnight crew,<br> + Where boist'rous Joy is but a name.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + And Woman, lovely Woman! thou,<br> + My hope, my comforter, my all!<br> +How cold must be my bosom now,<br> + When e'en thy smiles begin to pall!<br> +Without a sigh would I resign,<br> + This busy scene of splendid Woe,<br> +To make that calm contentment mine,<br> + Which Virtue knows, or seems to know.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Fain would I fly the haunts of men<a href= +"#f392"><sup>2</sup></a>--<br> + <a name="fr392">I</a> seek to shun, not hate mankind;<br> +My breast requires the sullen glen,<br> + Whose gloom may suit a darken'd mind.<br> +Oh! that to me the wings were given,<br> + Which bear the turtle to her nest!<br> +<a name="fr393">Then</a> would I cleave the vault of Heaven,<br> + To flee away, and be at rest<a href= +"#f393"><sup>3</sup></a>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Child footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f391"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý Sassenach, or Saxon, a +Gaelic word, signifying either Lowland or English.<br> +<a href="#fr391">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f390"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Stanzas...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section73">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f392"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý Shyness was a family +characteristic of the Byrons. The poet continued in later years +to have a horror of being observed by unaccustomed eyes, and in +the country would, if possible, avoid meeting strangers on the +road.<br> +<a href="#fr392">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f393"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"And I said, O that I had wings like a dove, for then +would I fly away, and be at rest."</blockquote> + +(Psalm iv. 6.) This verse also constitutes a part of the most +beautiful anthem in our language.<br> +<a href="#fr393">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section74"></a>Lines Written beneath an Elm in the +Churchyard of Harrow<a href="#f394"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a> <a href="#f395"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Spot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,<br> +<a name="fr395">Swept</a> by the breeze that fans thy cloudless +sky;<br> +Where now alone I muse, who oft have trod,<br> +With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;<br> +With those who, scatter'd far, perchance deplore,<br> +Like me, the happy scenes they knew before:<br> +Oh! as I trace again thy winding hill,<br> +Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,<br> +Thou drooping Elm! beneath whose boughs I lay,<br> +And frequent mus'd the twilight hours away;<br> +Where, as they once were wont, my limbs recline,<br> +But, ah! without the thoughts which then were mine:<br> +How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,<br> +Invite the bosom to recall the past,<br> +And seem to whisper, as they gently swell,<br> +"Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!"<br> +<br> + When Fate shall chill, at length, this fever'd breast,<br> +And calm its cares and passions into rest,<br> +Oft have I thought, 'twould soothe my dying hour,--<br> +If aught may soothe, when Life resigns her power,--<br> +To know some humbler grave, some narrow cell,<br> +Would hide my bosom where it lov'd to dwell;<br> +With this fond dream, methinks 'twere sweet to die--<br> +And here it linger'd, here my heart might lie;<br> +Here might I sleep where all my hopes arose,<br> +Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose;<br> +For ever stretch'd beneath this mantling shade,<br> +Press'd by the turf where once my childhood play'd;<br> +Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot I lov'd,<br> +Mix'd with the earth o'er which my footsteps mov'd;<br> +Blest by the tongues that charm'd my youthful ear,<br> +Mourn'd by the few my soul acknowledged here;<br> +Deplor'd by those in early days allied,<br> +And unremember'd by the world beside.<br> +<br> + September 2, 1807.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Elm footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f395"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý On the death of his +daughter, Allegra, in April, 1822, Byron sent her remains to be +buried at Harrow, "where," he says, in a letter to Murray, "I +once hoped to have laid my own." "There is," he wrote, May 26, "a +spot in the church<i>yard</i>, near the footpath, on the brow of +the hill looking towards Windsor, and a tomb under a large tree +(bearing the name of Peachie, or Peachey), where I used to sit +for hours and hours when a boy. This was my favourite spot; but +as I wish to erect a tablet to her memory, the body had better be +deposited in the <i>church</i>." No tablet was, however, erected, +and Allegra sleeps in her unmarked grave inside the church, a few +feet to the right of the entrance.<br> +<a href="#fr395">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f394"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Lines written beneath an Elm<br> + In the Churchyard of Harrow on the Hill<br> + September 2, 1807...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section74">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section75">Early Poems from Various Sources</a></h2> + +<br> + + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section76"></a>Fragment, Written Shortly after the +Marriage of Miss Chaworth<a href="#f396"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b>First published in Moore's <i>Letters and Journals of Lord +Byron</i>, 1830, i. 56</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Hills of Annesley, Bleak and Barren,<br> + Where my thoughtless Childhood stray'd,<br> +How the northern Tempests, warring,<br> + Howl above thy tufted Shade!<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Now no more, the Hours beguiling,<br> + Former favourite Haunts I see;<br> +Now no more my Mary smiling,<br> + Makes ye seem a Heaven to Me.<br> +<br> +1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f396"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Miss Chaworth was married to John Musters, Esq., in +August, 1805. The stanzas were first published in Moore's +<i>Letters and Journals of Lord Byron</i>, 1830, i. 56. (See, +too, <i>The Dream</i>, st. ii. 1. 9.) The original MS. (which is +in the possession of Mrs. Chaworth Musters) formerly belonged to +Miss E. B. Pigot, according to whom they "were written by Lord +Byron in 1804." "We were reading Burns' <i>Farewell to +Ayrshire</i>-- + +<blockquote>Scenes of woe and Scenes of pleasure<br> + Scenes that former thoughts renew<br> + Scenes of woe and scenes of pleasure<br> + Now a sad and last adieu, etc.</blockquote> + +when he said, ' I like that metre; let me try it,' and taking up +a pencil, wrote those on the other side in an instant. I read +them to Moore, and at his particular request I copied them for +him."-E. B. Pigot, 1859.<br> +<br> +On the fly-leaf of the same volume (<i>Poetry of Robert +Burns</i>, vol. iv. Third Edition, 1802), containing the +<i>Farewell to Ayrshire</i>, Byron wrote in pencil the two +stanzas "Oh! little lock of golden hue," in 1806 (<i>vide +post</i>, p. 233).<br> +<br> +It may be noted that the verses quoted, though included until +recently among his poems, were not written by Burns, but by +Richard Gall, who died in 1801, aged 25.<br> +<a href="#section76">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section77">Remembrance</a></h3> + +<br> +<b>First published in <i>Works of Lord Byron</i>, 1832, vii. +152.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>'Tis done!--I saw it in my dreams:<br> + No more with Hope the future beams;<br> + My days of happiness are few:<br> + Chill'd by Misfortune's wintry blast,<br> + My dawn of Life is overcast;<br> + Love, Hope, and Joy, alike adieu!<br> + Would I could add Remembrance too!<br> +<br> +1806. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section78">To a Lady Who Presented the Author with +the Velvet Band which bound her Tresses.</a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 151.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + This Band, which bound thy yellow hair<br> + Is mine, sweet girl! thy pledge of love;<br> +It claims my warmest, dearest care,<br> + Like relics left of saints above.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Oh! I will wear it next my heart;<br> + 'Twill bind my soul in bonds to thee:<br> +From me again 'twill ne'er depart,<br> + But mingle in the grave with me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + The dew I gather from thy lip<br> + Is not so dear to me as this;<br> +<i>That</i> I but for a moment sip,<br> + <a name="fr397">And</a> banquet on a transient bliss<a href= +"#f397"><sup>a</sup></a>:<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + <i>This</i> will recall each youthful scene,<br> + E'en when our lives are on the wane;<br> +The leaves of Love will still be green<br> + When Memory bids them bud again.<br> +<br> +1806. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f397"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>on a transient kiss...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr397">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section79"></a>To a Knot of Ungenerous Critics<a href= +"#f398"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>MS. Newstead</i></b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>Rail on, Rail on, ye heartless crew!<br> +My strains were never meant for you;<br> +Remorseless Rancour still reveal,<br> +And damn the verse you cannot feel.<br> +Invoke those kindred passions' aid,<br> +Whose baleful stings your breasts pervade;<br> +Crush, if you can, the hopes of youth,<br> +Trampling regardless on the Truth:<br> +Truth's Records you consult in vain,<br> +She will not blast her native strain;<br> +She will assist her votary's cause,<br> +His will at least be her applause,<br> +Your prayer the gentle Power will spurn;<br> +To Fiction's motley altar turn,<br> +Who joyful in the fond address<br> +Her favoured worshippers will bless:<br> +And lo! she holds a magic glass,<br> +Where Images reflected pass,<br> +Bent on your knees the Boon receive--<br> +This will assist you to deceive--<br> +The glittering gift was made for you,<br> +Now hold it up to public view;<br> +Lest evil unforeseen betide,<br> +A Mask each canker'd brow shall hide,<br> +(Whilst Truth my sole desire is nigh,<br> +Prepared the danger to defy,)<br> +"There is the Maid's perverted name,<br> +And there the Poet's guilty Flame,<br> +Gloaming a deep phosphoric fire,<br> +Threatening--but ere it spreads, retire.<br> +Says Truth Up Virgins, do not fear!<br> +The Comet rolls its Influence here;<br> +'Tis Scandal's Mirror you perceive,<br> +These dazzling Meteors but deceive--<br> +Approach and touch--Nay do not turn<br> +It blazes there, but will not burn."--<br> +At once the shivering Mirror flies,<br> +Teeming no more with varnished Lies;<br> +The baffled friends of Fiction start,<br> +Too late desiring to depart--<br> +Truth poising high Ithuriel's spear<br> +Bids every Fiend unmask'd appear,<br> +The vizard tears from every face,<br> +And dooms them to a dire disgrace.<br> +For e'er they compass their escape,<br> +Each takes perforce a native shape--<br> +The Leader of the wrathful Band,<br> +Behold a portly Female stand!<br> +She raves, impelled by private pique,<br> +This mean unjust revenge to seek;<br> +From vice to save this virtuous Age,<br> +Thus does she vent indecent rage!<br> +What child has she of promise fair,<br> +Who claims a fostering Mother's care?<br> +Whose Innocence requires defence,<br> +Or forms at least a smooth pretence,<br> +Thus to disturb a harmless Boy,<br> +His humble hope, and peace annoy?<br> +She need not fear the amorous rhyme,<br> +Love will not tempt her future time,<br> +For her his wings have ceased to spread,<br> +No more he flutters round her head;<br> +Her day's Meridian now is past,<br> +The clouds of Age her Sun o'ercast;<br> +To her the strain was never sent,<br> +For feeling Souls alone 'twas meant--<br> +The verse she seized, unask'd, unbade,<br> +And damn'd, ere yet the whole was read!<br> +Yes! for one single erring verse,<br> +Pronounced an unrelenting Curse;<br> +Yes! at a first and transient view,<br> +Condemned a heart she never knew.--<br> +Can such a verdict then decide,<br> +Which springs from disappointed pride?<br> +Without a wondrous share of Wit,<br> +To judge is such a Matron fit?<br> +The rest of the censorious throng<br> +Who to this zealous Band belong,<br> +To her a general homage pay,<br> +And right or wrong her wish obey:<br> +Why should I point my pen of steel<br> +To break "such flies upon the wheel?"<br> +With minds to Truth and Sense unknown,<br> +Who dare not call their words their own.<br> +Rail on, Rail on, ye heartless Crew!<br> +Your Leader's grand design pursue:<br> +Secure behind her ample shield,<br> +Yours is the harvest of the field.--<br> +My path with thorns you cannot strew,<br> +Nay more, my warmest thanks are due;<br> +When such as you revile my Name,<br> +Bright beams the rising Sun of Fame,<br> +Chasing the shades of envious night,<br> +Outshining every critic Light.--<br> +Such, such as you will serve to show<br> +Each radiant tint with higher glow.<br> +Vain is the feeble cheerless toil,<br> +Your efforts on yourselves recoil;<br> +Then Glory still for me you raise,<br> +Yours is the Censure, mine the Praise.<br> +<br> +<br> + <b>Byron</b>,<br> +<br> + December 1, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f398"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<br> +There can be little doubt that these verses were called forth by +the criticisms passed on the "Fugitive Pieces" by certain ladies +of Southwell, concerning whom, Byron wrote to Mr. Pigot (Jan. 13, +1807), on sending him an early copy of the <i>Poems</i>, + +<blockquote>"That <i>unlucky</i> poem to my poor Mary has been +the cause of some animadversion from <i>ladies in years</i>. I +have not printed it in this collection in consequence of my being +pronounced a most <i>profligate sinner</i>, in short a '<i>young +Moore</i>'"</blockquote> + +--<i>Life</i>, p. 41.<br> +<a href="#section79">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section80"></a>Soliloquy of a Bard in the Country<a +href="#f399"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>MS. Newstead</i></b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>'Twas now the noon of night, and all was still,<br> +Except a hapless Rhymer and his quill.<br> +In vain he calls each Muse in order down,<br> +Like other females, these will sometimes frown;<br> +He frets, be fumes, and ceasing to invoke<br> +The Nine, in anguish'd accents thus he spoke:<br> +Ah what avails it thus to waste my time,<br> +To roll in Epic, or to rave in Rhyme?<br> +What worth is some few partial readers' praise.<br> +If ancient Virgins croaking <i>censures</i> raise?<br> +Where few attend, 'tis useless to indite;<br> +Where few can read, 'tis folly sure to write;<br> +Where none but girls and striplings dare admire,<br> +And Critics rise in every country Squire--<br> +But yet this last my candid Muse admits,<br> +When Peers are Poets, Squires may well be Wits;<br> +When schoolboys vent their amorous flames in verse,<br> +Matrons may sure their characters asperse;<br> +And if a little parson joins the train,<br> +And echos back his Patron's voice again--<br> +Though not delighted, yet I must forgive,<br> +Parsons as well as other folks must live:--<br> +From rage he rails not, rather say from dread,<br> +He does not speak for Virtue, but for bread;<br> +And this we know is in his Patron's giving,<br> +For Parsons cannot eat without a <i>Living</i>.<br> +The Matron knows I love the Sex too well,<br> +Even unprovoked aggression to repel.<br> +What though from private pique her anger grew,<br> +And bade her blast a heart she never knew?<br> +What though, she said, for one light heedless line,<br> +That Wilmot's<a href="#f400"><sup>2</sup></a> verse was far more +pure than mine!<br> +<a name="fr400">In</a> wars like these, I neither fight nor +fly,<br> +When <i>dames</i> accuse 'tis bootless to deny;<br> +Her's be the harvest of the martial field,<br> +I can't attack, where Beauty forms the shield.<br> +But when a pert Physician loudly cries,<br> +Who hunts for scandal, and who lives by lies,<br> +A walking register of daily news,<br> +Train'd to invent, and skilful to abuse--<br> +For arts like these at bounteous tables fed,<br> +When S—— condemns a book he never read.<br> +Declaring with a coxcomb's native air,<br> +The <i>moral's</i> shocking, though the <i>rhymes</i> are +fair.<br> +Ah! must he rise unpunish'd from the feast,<br> +Nor lash'd by vengeance into truth at least?<br> +Such lenity were more than Man's indeed!<br> +Those who condemn, should surely deign to read.<br> +Yet must I spare--nor thus my pen degrade,<br> +I quite forgot that scandal was his trade.<br> +For food and raiment thus the coxcomb rails,<br> +For those who fear his physic, like his <i>tales</i>.<br> +Why should his harmless censure seem offence?<br> +Still let him eat, although at my expense,<br> +And join the herd to Sense and Truth unknown,<br> +Who dare not call their very thoughts their own,<br> +And share with these applause, a godlike bribe,<br> +In short, do anything, except <i>prescribe</i>:--<br> +For though in garb of Galen he appears,<br> +His practice is not equal to his years.<br> +Without improvement since he first began,<br> +A young Physician, though an ancient Man--<br> +Now let me cease--Physician, Parson, Dame,<br> +Still urge your task, and if you can, defame.<br> +The humble offerings of my Muse destroy,<br> +And crush, oh! noble conquest! crush a Boy.<br> +What though some silly girls have lov'd the strain,<br> +And kindly bade me tune my Lyre again;<br> +What though some feeling, or some partial few,<br> +Nay, Men of Taste and Reputation too,<br> +Have deign'd to praise the firstlings of my Muse--<br> +If <i>you</i> your sanction to the theme refuse,<br> +If <i>you</i> your great protection still withdraw,<br> +Whose Praise is Glory, and whose Voice is law!<br> +Soon must I fall an unresisting foe,<br> +A hapless victim yielding to the blow.--<br> +<a name="fr401">Thus</a> Pope by Curl and Dennis was +destroyed,<br> +Thus Gray and Mason yield to furious Lloyd<a href= +"#f401"><sup>3</sup></a>;<br> +From Dryden, Milbourne<a href="#f402"><sup>4</sup></a> tears the +palm away,<br> +<a name="fr402">And</a> thus I fall, though meaner far than +they.<br> +As in the field of combat, side by side,<br> +A Fabius and some noble Roman died.<br> +<br> + Dec. 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f399"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<a href="#section80">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f400"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester (1647-1680). His +<i>Poems</i> were published in the year of his death.<br> +<a href="#fr400">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f401"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +3:</span> Ý Robert Lloyd (1733-1764). The following lines occur +in the first of two odes to <i>Obscurity and +Oblivion</i>--parodies of the odes of Gray and Mason:-- + +<blockquote>"Heard ye the din of modern rhymers bray?<br> + It was cool M----n and warm G----y,<br> + Involv'd in tenfold smoke."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr401">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f402"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +4:</span> Ý The Rev. Luke Milbourne (died 1720) published, in +1698, his <i>Notes on Dryden's Virgil</i>, containing a venomous +attack on Dryden. They are alluded to in <i>The Dunciad</i>, and +also by Dr. Johnson, who wrote (<i>Life of Dryden</i>), + +<blockquote>"His outrages seem to be the ebullitions of a mind +agitated by stronger resentment than bad poetry can +excite."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr402">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section81"></a>L'Amitié est L'Amour sans Ailes<a +href="#f403"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 161</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Why should my anxious breast repine,<br> + Because my youth is fled?<br> +Days of delight may still be mine;<br> + Affection is not dead.<br> +In tracing back the years of youth,<br> +One firm record, one lasting truth<br> + Celestial consolation brings;<br> +Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,<br> +Where first my heart responsive beat,--<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!"<br> +<br> +<br> + 2<br> +<br> + Through few, but deeply chequer'd years,<br> + What moments have been mine!<br> +Now half obscured by clouds of tears,<br> + Now bright in rays divine;<br> +Howe'er my future doom be cast,<br> +My soul, enraptured with the past,<br> + To one idea fondly clings;<br> +Friendship! that thought is all thine own,<br> +Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone--<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!"<br> +<br> +<br> + 3<br> +<br> + Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave<br> + Their branches on the gale,<br> +Unheeded heaves a simple grave,<br> + Which tells the common tale;<br> +Round this unconscious schoolboys stray,<br> +Till the dull knell of childish play<br> + From yonder studious mansion rings;<br> +But here, whene'er my footsteps move,<br> +My silent tears too plainly prove,<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!"<br> +<br> +<br> + 4<br> +<br> + Oh, Love! before thy glowing shrine,<br> + My early vows were paid;<br> +My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine,<br> + But these are now decay'd;<br> +For thine are pinions like the wind,<br> +No trace of thee remains behind,<br> + Except, alas! thy jealous stings.<br> +Away, away! delusive power,<br> +Thou shall not haunt my coming hour;<br> + Unless, indeed, without thy wings.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5<br> +<br> + Seat of my youth<a href="#f404"><sup>2</sup></a>! thy distant +spire<br> + <a name="fr404">Recalls</a> each scene of joy;<br> +My bosom glows with former fire,--<br> + In mind again a boy.<br> +Thy grove of elms, thy verdant hill,<br> +Thy every path delights me still,<br> + Each flower a double fragrance flings;<br> +Again, as once, in converse gay,<br> +Each dear associate seems to say,<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!'<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + My Lycus<a href="#f405"><sup>3</sup></a>! wherefore dost thou +weep?<br> + <a name="fr405">Thy</a> falling tears restrain;<br> +Affection for a time may sleep,<br> + But, oh, 'twill wake again.<br> +Think, think, my friend, when next we meet,<br> +Our long-wished interview, how sweet!<br> + From this my hope of rapture springs;<br> +While youthful hearts thus fondly swell,<br> +Absence my friend, can only tell,<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!"<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + In one, and one alone deceiv'd,<br> + Did I my error mourn?<br> +No--from oppressive bonds reliev'd,<br> + I left the wretch to scorn.<br> +I turn'd to those my childhood knew,<br> +With feelings warm, with bosoms true,<br> + Twin'd with my heart's according strings;<br> +And till those vital chords shall break,<br> +For none but these my breast shall wake<br> + Friendship, the power deprived of wings!<br> +<br> +<br> + 8<br> +<br> + Ye few! my soul, my life is yours,<br> + My memory and my hope;<br> +Your worth a lasting love insures,<br> + Unfetter'd in its scope;<br> +From smooth deceit and terror sprung,<br> +With aspect fair and honey'd tongue,<br> + Let Adulation wait on kings;<br> +With joy elate, by snares beset,<br> +We, we, my friends, can ne'er forget,<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!"<br> +<br> +<br> + 9<br> +<br> + Fictions and dreams inspire the bard,<br> + Who rolls the epic song;<br> +Friendship and truth be my reward--<br> + To me no bays belong;<br> +If laurell'd Fame but dwells with lies,<br> +Me the enchantress ever flies,<br> + Whose heart and not whose fancy sings;<br> +Simple and young, I dare not feign;<br> +Mine be the rude yet heartfelt strain,<br> + "Friendship is Love without his wings!"<br> +<br> +<br> + December 29, 1806. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f403"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý The MS. is preserved at Newstead.<br> +<a href="#section81">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f404"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý Harrow.<br> +<a href="#fr404">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f405"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +3:</span> Ý Lord Clare had written to Byron, + +<blockquote>"I think by your last letter that you are very much +piqued with most of your friends, and, if I am not much mistaken, +a little so with me. In one part you say, + +<blockquote>'There is little or no doubt a few years or months +will render us as politely indifferent to each other, as if we +had never passed a portion of our time together.'</blockquote> + +Indeed, Byron, you wrong me; and I have no doubt, at least I +hope, you are wrong yourself."</blockquote> + +<i>Life</i>, p. 25.<br> +<a href="#fr405">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section82"></a>The Prayer of Nature<a href="#f406"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Letters and Journals</i>, 1830, i. 106</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1<br> +<br> + Father of Light! great God of Heaven!<br> + Hear'st thou the accents of despair?<br> +Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven?<br> + Can vice atone for crimes by prayer?<br> +<br> +<br> + 2<br> +<br> + Father of Light, on thee I call!<br> + Thou see'st my soul is dark within;<br> +Thou, who canst mark the sparrow's fall,<br> + Avert from me the death of sin.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3<br> +<br> + No shrine I seek, to sects unknown;<br> + Oh, point to me the path of truth!<br> +Thy dread Omnipotence I own;<br> + Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4<br> +<br> + Let bigots rear a gloomy fane,<br> + Let Superstition hail the pile,<br> +Let priests, to spread their sable reign,<br> + With tales of mystic rites beguile.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5<br> +<br> + Shall man confine his Maker's sway<br> + To Gothic domes of mouldering stone?<br> +Thy temple is the face of day;<br> + Earth, Ocean, Heaven thy boundless throne.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6<br> +<br> + Shall man condemn his race to Hell,<br> + Unless they bend in pompous form?<br> +Tell us that all, for one who fell,<br> + Must perish in the mingling storm?<br> +<br> +<br> + 7<br> +<br> + Shall each pretend to reach the skies,<br> + Yet doom his brother to expire,<br> +Whose soul a different hope supplies,<br> + Or doctrines less severe inspire?<br> +<br> +<br> + 8<br> +<br> + Shall these, by creeds they can't expound,<br> + Prepare a fancied bliss or woe?<br> +Shall reptiles, groveling on the ground,<br> + Their great Creator's purpose know?<br> +<br> +<br> + 9<br> +<br> + Shall those, who live for self alone<a href= +"#f407"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr407">Whose</a> years float on in daily crime--<br> +Shall they, by Faith, for guilt atone,<br> + And live beyond the bounds of Time?<br> +<br> +<br> + 10<br> +<br> + Father! no prophet's laws I seek,--<br> + <i>Thy</i> laws in Nature's works appear;--<br> +I own myself corrupt and weak,<br> + Yet will I <i>pray</i>, for thou wilt hear!<br> +<br> +<br> + 11<br> +<br> + Thou, who canst guide the wandering star,<br> + Through trackless realms of aether's space;<br> +Who calm'st the elemental war,<br> + Whose hand from pole to pole I trace:<br> +<br> +<br> + 12<br> +<br> + Thou, who in wisdom plac'd me here,<br> + Who, when thou wilt, canst take me hence,<br> +Ah! whilst I tread this earthly sphere,<br> + Extend to me thy wide defence.<br> +<br> +<br> + 13<br> +<br> + To Thee, my God, to thee I call!<br> + Whatever weal or woe betide,<br> +By thy command I rise or fall,<br> + In thy protection I confide.<br> +<br> +<br> + 14.<br> +<br> + If, when this dust to dust's restor'd,<br> + My soul shall float on airy wing,<br> +How shall thy glorious Name ador'd<br> + Inspire her feeble voice to sing!<br> +<br> +<br> + 15<br> +<br> + But, if this fleeting spirit share<br> + With clay the Grave's eternal bed,<br> +While Life yet throbs I raise my prayer,<br> + Though doom'd no more to quit the dead.<br> +<br> +<br> + 16<br> +<br> + To Thee I breathe my humble strain,<br> + Grateful for all thy mercies past,<br> +And hope, my God, to thee again<a href= +"#f408"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr408">This</a> erring life may fly at last.<br> +<br> +<br> + December 29, 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Nature footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f406"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý These stanzas were first +published in Moore's <i>Letters and Journals of Lord Byron</i>, +1830, i. 106.<br> +<a href="#section82">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f407"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Shalt these who live for self alone,<br> + Whose years fleet on in daily crime--<br> + Shall these by Faith for guilt atone,<br> + Exist beyond the bounds of Time?</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr407">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f408"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>My hope, my God, in thee again<br> + This erring life will fly at last. ...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Poems O. and T.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr408">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section83"></a>Translation from Anacreon<a href= +"#f409"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>. +Ode 5.</h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><img src="images/BG11.gif" width="75" height="22" alt= +"Greek(transliterated): eis rodon"><br> +<br> + Mingle with the genial bowl<br> + The Rose, the <i>flow'ret</i> of the Soul,<br> + The Rose and Grape together quaff'd,<br> + How doubly sweet will be the draught!<br> + With Roses crown our jovial brows,<br> + While every cheek with Laughter glows;<br> + While Smiles and Songs, with Wine incite,<br> + To wing our moments with Delight.<br> + Rose by far the fairest birth,<br> + Which Spring and Nature cull from Earth--<br> + Rose whose sweetest perfume given,<br> + Breathes our thoughts from Earth to Heaven.<br> + Rose whom the Deities above,<br> + From Jove to Hebe, dearly love,<br> + When Cytherea's blooming Boy,<br> + Flies lightly through the dance of Joy,<br> + With him the Graces then combine,<br> + And rosy wreaths their locks entwine.<br> + Then will I sing divinely crown'd,<br> + With dusky leaves my temples bound--<br> + Lyæus! in thy bowers of pleasure,<br> + I'll wake a wildly thrilling measure.<br> + There will my gentle Girl and I,<br> + Along the mazes sportive fly,<br> + Will bend before thy potent throne--<br> + Rose, Wine, and Beauty, all my own.<br> +<br> + 1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f409"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<a href="#section83">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp2">Contents p.3</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section84"></a>Ossian's Address to the Sun in +<i>Carthon</i><a href="#f410"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Oh! thou that roll'st above thy glorious Fire,<br> +Round as the shield which grac'd my godlike Sire,<br> +Whence are the beams, O Sun! thy endless blaze,<br> +Which far eclipse each minor Glory's rays?<br> +Forth in thy Beauty here thou deign'st to shine!<br> +Night quits her car, the twinkling stars decline;<br> +Pallid and cold the Moon descends to cave<br> +Her sinking beams beneath the Western wave;<br> +But thou still mov'st alone, of light the Source--<br> +Who can o'ertake thee in thy fiery course?<br> +Oaks of the mountains fall, the rocks decay,<br> +Weighed down with years the hills dissolve away.<br> +A certain space to yonder Moon is given,<br> +She rises, smiles, and then is lost in Heaven.<br> +Ocean in sullen murmurs ebbs and flows,<br> +But thy bright beam unchanged for ever glows!<br> +When Earth is darkened with tempestuous skies,<br> +When Thunder shakes the sphere and Lightning flies,<br> +Thy face, O Sun, no rolling blasts deform,<br> +Thou look'st from clouds and laughest at the Storm.<br> +To Ossian, Orb of Light! thou look'st in vain,<br> +Nor cans't thou glad his agèd eyes again,<br> +Whether thy locks in Orient Beauty stream,<br> +Or glimmer through the West with fainter gleam--<br> +But thou, perhaps, like me with age must bend;<br> +Thy season o'er, thy days will find their end,<br> +No more yon azure vault with rays adorn,<br> +Lull'd in the clouds, nor hear the voice of Morn.<br> +Exult, O Sun, in all thy youthful strength!<br> +Age, dark unlovely Age, appears at length,<br> +As gleams the moonbeam through the broken cloud<br> +While mountain vapours spread their misty shroud--<br> +The Northern tempest howls along at last,<br> +And wayworn strangers shrink amid the blast.<br> +Thou rolling Sun who gild'st those rising towers,<br> +Fair didst thou shine upon my earlier hours!<br> +I hail'd with smiles the cheering rays of Morn,<br> +My breast by no tumultuous Passion torn--<br> +Now hateful are thy beams which wake no more<br> +The sense of joy which thrill'd my breast before;<br> +Welcome thou cloudy veil of nightly skies,<br> +To thy bright canopy the mourner flies:<br> +Once bright, thy Silence lull'd my frame to rest,<br> +And Sleep my soul with gentle visions blest;<br> +Now wakeful Grief disdains her mild controul,<br> +Dark is the night, but darker is my Soul.<br> +Ye warring Winds of Heav'n your fury urge,<br> +To me congenial sounds your wintry Dirge:<br> +Swift as your wings my happier days have past,<br> +Keen as your storms is Sorrow's chilling blast;<br> +To Tempests thus expos'd my Fate has been,<br> +Piercing like yours, like yours, alas! unseen.<br> +1805.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<a name="f410"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed. (See <i>Ossian's Poems</i>, London, 1819, pp. xvii. +119.)<br> +<a href="#section84">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section85"></a>Pignus Amoris<a href="#f411"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + As by the fix'd decrees of Heaven,<br> +'Tis vain to hope that Joy can last;<br> +The dearest boon that Life has given,<br> +To me is--visions of the past.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + For these this toy of blushing hue<br> + I prize with zeal before unknown,<br> +It tells me of a Friend I knew,<br> + Who loved me for myself alone.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + It tells me what how few can say<br> + Though all the social tie commend;<br> +Recorded in my heart 'twill lay<a href= +"#f412"><sup>2</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr412">It</a> tells me mine was once a Friend.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Through many a weary day gone by,<br> + With time the gift is dearer grown;<br> +And still I view in Memory's eye<br> + That teardrop sparkle through my own.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + And heartless Age perhaps will smile,<br> + Or wonder whence those feelings sprung;<br> +Yet let not sterner souls revile,<br> + For Both were open, Both were young.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + And Youth is sure the only time,<br> + When Pleasure blends no base alloy;<br> +When Life is blest without a crime,<br> + And Innocence resides with Joy.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7<br> +<br> + Let those reprove my feeble Soul,<br> + Who laugh to scorn Affection's name;<br> +While these impose a harsh controul,<br> + All will forgive who feel the same.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8<br> +<br> + Then still I wear my simple toy,<br> + With pious care from wreck I'll save it;<br> +And this will form a dear employ<br> + For dear I was to him who gave it.<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + ? 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f411"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<a href="#section85">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f412"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý For the irregular use of "lay" for "lie," compare <a +href="#section88"><i>The Adieu</i></a> (st. 10, 1. 4, p. 241), +and the much-disputed line, "And dashest him to earth--there let +him lay" (<i>Childe Harold</i>, canto iv. st. 180).<br> +<a href="#fr412">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section86"></a>A Woman's Hair<a href="#f413"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 151</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>Oh! little lock of golden hue<br> + In gently waving ringlet curl'd,<br> + By the dear head on which you grew,<br> + I would not lose you for <i>a world</i>.<br> +<br> + Not though a thousand more adorn<br> + <a name="fr414">The</a> polished brow where once you shone,<br> + Like rays which guild a cloudless sky<a href= +"#f414"><sup>a</sup></a><br> + Beneath Columbia's fervid zone.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1806.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Hair footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f413"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý These lines are preserved +in MS. at Newstead, with the following memorandum in Miss Pigot's +handwriting: "Copied from the fly-leaf in a vol. of my Burns' +books, which is written in pencil by himself." They have hitherto +been printed as stanzas 5 and 6 of the lines <a href= +"#section25">"To a Lady,"</a> etc., p. 212.<br> +<a href="#section86">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f414"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>a cloudless morn...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Ed.</i>, 1832]<br> +<a href="#fr414">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section87"></a>Stanzas to Jessy<a href="#f414a"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Monthly Literary Recreations</i>, July, 1807</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1<br> +<br> + There is a mystic thread of life<br> + So dearly wreath'd with mine alone,<br> +That Destiny's relentless knife<br> + At once must sever both, or none.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2<br> +<br> + There is a Form on which these eyes<br> + Have fondly gazed with such delight--<br> +By day, that Form their joy supplies,<br> + And Dreams restore it, through the night.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3<br> +<br> + There is a Voice whose tones inspire<br> + Such softened feelings in my breast<a href= +"#f415"><sup>a</sup></a>,--<br> +<a name="fr415">I</a> would not hear a Seraph Choir,<br> + Unless that voice could join the rest.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4<br> +<br> + There is a Face whose Blushes tell<br> + Affection's tale upon the cheek,<br> +But pallid at our fond farewell,<br> + Proclaims more love than words can speak.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5<br> +<br> + There is a Lip, which mine has prest,<br> + But none had ever prest before;<br> +<a name="fr416">It</a> vowed to make me sweetly blest,<br> + That mine alone should press it more<a href= +"#f416"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6<br> +<br> + There is a Bosom all my own,<br> + Has pillow'd oft this aching head,<br> +A Mouth which smiles on me alone,<br> + An Eye, whose tears with mine are shed.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7<br> +<br> + There are two Hearts whose movements thrill,<br> + In unison so closely sweet,<br> +That Pulse to Pulse responsive still<br> + They Both must heave, or cease to beat.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8<br> +<br> + There are two Souls, whose equal flow<br> + In gentle stream so calmly run,<br> +That when they part--they part?--ah no!<br> + They cannot part--those Souls are One.<br> +<br> +<br> + [George Gordon, Lord] Byron.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Jessy footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f414a"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý "Stanzas to Jessy" have +often been printed, but were never acknowledged by Byron, or +included in any authorized edition of his works. They are, +however, unquestionably genuine. They appeared first in +<i>Monthly Literary Recreations</i> (July, 1807), a magazine +published by B. Crosby & Co., Stationers' Court. Crosby was +London agent for Ridge, the Newark bookseller, and, with Longman +and others, "sold" the recently issued <i>Hours of Idleness</i>. +The same number of <i>Monthly Literary Recreations</i> (for July, +1807) contains Byron's review of Wordsworth's <i>Poems</i> (2 +vols., 1807), and a highly laudatory notice of <i>Hours of +Idleness</i>. The lines are headed "Stanzas to Jessy," and are +signed "George Gordon, Lord Byron." They were republished in +1824, by Knight and Lacy, in vol. v. of the three supplementary +volumes of the <i>Works</i>, and again in the same year by John +Bumpus and A. Griffin, in their <i>Miscellaneous Poems</i>, etc. +A note which is prefixed to these issues, "The following stanzas +were addressed by Lord Byron to his Lady, a few months before +their separation," and three variants in the text, make it +unlikely that the pirating editors were acquainted with the text +of the magazine. The MS. (British Museum, Eg. MSS. No. 2332) is +signed "George Gordon, Lord Byron," but the words "George Gordon, +Lord" are in another hand, and were probably added by Crosby. The +following letter (together with a wrapper addressed, "Mr. Crosby, +Stationers' Court," and sealed in red wax with Byron's arms and +coronet) is attached to the poem:-- + +<blockquote>July 21, 1807.<br> +<br> + Sir,<br> +<br> + I have sent according to my promise some Stanzas for Literary +Recreations. The insertion I leave to the option of the Editors. +They have never appeared before. I should wish to know whether +they are admitted or not, and when the work will appear, as I am +desirous of a copy.<br> +<br> + Etc., etc., Byron.<br> +<br> + P.S.--Send your answer when convenient."</blockquote> + +<a href="#section87">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f415"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Such thrills of Rapture...</i></blockquote> + +[Knight and Lacy, 1824, v. 56.]<br> +<a href="#fr415">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f416"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And mine, mine only...</i></blockquote> + +[Knight and Lacy, v. 56.]<br> +<a href="#fr416">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section88">The Adieu</a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 195</b><br> +<br> +<b><i>written under the impression that the author would soon +die.</i></b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Adieu, thou Hill<a href="#f417"><sup>1</sup></a>! where early +joy<br> + <a name="fr417">Spread</a> roses o'er my brow;<br> +Where Science seeks each loitering boy<br> + With knowledge to endow.<br> +Adieu, my youthful friends or foes,<br> +Partners of former bliss or woes;<br> + No more through Ida's paths we stray;<br> +Soon must I share the gloomy cell,<br> +Whose ever-slumbering inmates dwell<br> + Unconscious of the day.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Adieu, ye hoary Regal Fanes<a href="#f418"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr418">Ye</a> spires of Granta's vale,<br> +Where Learning robed in sable reigns.<br> + And Melancholy pale.<br> +Ye comrades of the jovial hour,<br> +Ye tenants of the classic bower,<br> +On Cama's verdant margin plac'd,<br> +Adieu! while memory still is mine,<br> +For offerings on Oblivion's shrine,<br> +These scenes must be effac'd.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3<br> +<br> + Adieu, ye mountains of the clime<br> +Where grew my youthful years;<br> +Where Loch na Garr in snows sublime<br> +His giant summit rears.<br> +Why did my childhood wander forth<br> +From you, ye regions of the North,<br> +With sons of Pride to roam?<br> +Why did I quit my Highland cave,<br> +Marr's dusky heath, and Dee's clear wave,<br> +To seek a Sotheron home?<br> +<br> +<br> + 4<br> +<br> + Hall of my Sires! a long farewell-<br> +Yet why to thee adieu?<br> +Thy vaults will echo back my knell,<br> +Thy towers my tomb will view:<br> +The faltering tongue which sung thy fall,<br> +And former glories of thy Hall,<br> +Forgets its wonted simple note--<br> +But yet the Lyre retains the strings,<br> +And sometimes, on Æolian wings,<br> +In dying strains may float.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Fields, which surround yon rustic cot<a href= +"#f419"><sup>2</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr419">While</a> yet I linger here,<br> +Adieu! you are not now forgot,<br> + To retrospection dear.<br> +Streamlet<a href="#f420"><sup>3</sup></a>! along whose rippling +surge<br> +<a name="fr420">My</a> youthful limbs were wont to urge,<br> + At noontide heat, their pliant course;<br> +Plunging with ardour from the shore,<br> +Thy springs will lave these limbs no more,<br> + Deprived of active force.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + And shall I here forget the scene,<br> + Still nearest to my breast?<br> +Rocks rise and rivers roll between<br> + The spot which passion blest;<br> +Yet Mary<a href="#f421"><sup>4</sup></a>, all thy beauties +seem<br> +<a name="fr421">Fresh</a> as in Love's bewitching dream,<br> + To me in smiles display'd;<br> +Till slow disease resigns his prey<br> +To Death, the parent of decay,<br> + Thine image cannot fade.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + And thou, my Friend! whose gentle love<br> + Yet thrills my bosom's chords,<br> +How much thy friendship was above<br> + <a name="fr422">Description's</a> power of words!<br> +Still near my breast thy gift<a href="#f422"><sup>5</sup></a> I +wear<a href="#f423"><sup>b</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr423">Which</a> sparkled once with Feeling's tear,<br> + Of Love the pure, the sacred gem:<br> +Our souls were equal, and our lot<br> +In that dear moment quite forgot;<br> + Let Pride alone condemn!<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + All, all is dark and cheerless now!<br> + No smile of Love's deceit<br> +Can warm my veins with wonted glow,<br> + Can bid Life's pulses beat:<br> +Not e'en the hope of future fame<br> +Can wake my faint, exhausted frame,<br> + Or crown with fancied wreaths my head.<br> +Mine is a short inglorious race,--<br> +To humble in the dust my face,<br> + And mingle with the dead.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Oh Fame! thou goddess of my heart;<br> + On him who gains thy praise,<br> +Pointless must fall the Spectre's dart,<br> + Consumed in Glory's blaze;<br> +But me she beckons from the earth,<br> +My name obscure, unmark'd my birth,<br> + My life a short and vulgar dream:<br> +Lost in the dull, ignoble crowd,<br> +My hopes recline within a shroud,<br> + My fate is Lethe's stream.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + When I repose beneath the sod,<br> + Unheeded in the clay,<br> +Where once my playful footsteps trod,<br> + Where now my head must lay<a href="#f424"><sup>6</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr424">The</a> meed of Pity will be shed<br> +In dew-drops o'er my narrow bed,<br> + By nightly skies, and storms alone;<br> +No mortal eye will deign to steep<br> +With tears the dark sepulchral deep<br> + Which hides a name unknown.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + Forget this world, my restless sprite,<br> + Turn, turn thy thoughts to Heaven:<br> +There must thou soon direct thy flight,<br> + If errors are forgiven.<br> +To bigots and to sects unknown,<br> +Bow down beneath the Almighty's Throne;<br> + To Him address thy trembling prayer:<br> +He, who is merciful and just,<br> +Will not reject a child of dust,<br> + Although His meanest care.<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + Father of Light! to Thee I call;<br> + My soul is dark within:<br> +Thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall,<br> + Avert the death of sin.<br> +Thou, who canst guide the wandering star<br> +Who calm'st the elemental war,<br> + Whose mantle is yon boundless sky,<br> +My thoughts, my words, my crimes forgive;<br> +<a name="fr425">And</a>, since I soon must cease to live,<br> + Instruct me how to die<a href="#f425"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Die footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f417"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý Harrow<br> + <a href="#fr417">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f418"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>--ye regal Towers...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr418">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f419"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý Mrs. Pigot's Cottage.<br> + <a href="#fr419">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f423"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The gift I wear...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr423">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f420"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý The river Grete, at +Southwell.<br> + <a href="#fr420">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f425"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And since I must forbear to live,<br> + Instruct me how to die.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr425">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f421"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span> ÝMary Chaworth.<br> + <a href="#fr421">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f422"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span> Ý Compare the verses on <a +href="#section35">"The Cornelian,"</a> p. 66, and <a href= +"#section85">"Pignus Amoris,"</a> p. 231.<br> +<a href="#fr422">return to this poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f424"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span> Ý See <a href= +"#f386">note</a> to "Pignus Amoris," st. 3, l. 3, p. 232.<br> + <a href="#fr424">return to this poem</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a><br> +<a href="#f412">cross-reference: return to footnote of "Pignus +Amoris"</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section89"></a>To——<a href="#f426"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Oh! well I know your subtle Sex,<br> + Frail daughters of the wanton Eve,--<br> +While jealous pangs our Souls perplex,<br> +No passion prompts you to relieve.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2<br> +<br> + From Love, or Pity ne'er you fall,<br> +By <i>you</i>, no mutual Flame is felt,<br> +"Tis Vanity, which rules you all,<br> +Desire alone which makes you melt.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3<br> +<br> + I will not say no <i>souls</i> are yours,<br> +Aye, ye have Souls, and dark ones too,<br> +Souls to contrive those smiling lures,<br> +To snare our simple hearts for you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4<br> +<br> + Yet shall you never bind me fast,<br> +Long to adore such brittle toys,<br> +I'll rove along, from first to last,<br> +And change whene'er my fancy cloys.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5<br> +<br> + Oh! I should be a <i>baby</i> fool,<br> +To sigh the dupe of female art--<br> +Woman! perhaps thou hast a <i>Soul</i>,<br> +But where have <i>Demons</i> hid thy <i>Heart</i>?<br> +<br> +<br> + January, 1807.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f426"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<a href="#section89">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> +' + +<h3><a name="section90"></a>On the Eyes of Miss A—— +H——<a href="#f427"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>Anne's Eye is liken'd to the <i>Sun</i>,<br> + From it such Beams of Beauty fall;<br> +And <i>this</i> can be denied by none,<br> + For like the <i>Sun</i>, it shines on <i>All</i>.<br> +Then do not admiration smother,<br> + Or say these glances don't become her;<br> +<a name="fr428">To</a> <i>you</i>, or <i>I</i>, or <i>any +other</i><br> + Her <i>Sun</i>, displays perpetual Summer<a href= +"#f428"><sup>2</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +January 14, 1807.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f427"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> ÝMiss Anne Houson. From an autograph MS. at Newstead, +now for the first time printed.<br> +<a href="#section90">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f428"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý Compare, for the same simile, the lines <a href= +"#section67">"To Edward Noel Long, Esq."</a>, p. 187, +<i>ante</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr428">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section91"></a>To a Vain Lady<a href="#f429"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1<br> +Ah, heedless girl! why thus disclose<br> + What ne'er was meant for other ears;<br> +Why thus destroy thine own repose,<br> + And dig the source of future tears?<br> +<br> +2<br> +Oh, thou wilt weep, imprudent maid,<br> +While lurking envious foes will smile,<br> +For all the follies thou hast said<br> +Of those who spoke but to beguile.<br> +<br> +3<br> +Vain girl! thy lingering woes are nigh,<br> +If thou believ'st what striplings say:<br> +Oh, from the deep temptation fly,<br> +Nor fall the specious spoiler's prey.<br> +<br> +4<br> +Dost thou repeat, in childish boast,<br> +The words man utters to deceive?<br> +Thy peace, thy hope, thy all is lost,<br> +If thou canst venture to believe.<br> +<br> +5<br> +While now amongst thy female peers<br> +Thou tell'st again the soothing tale,<br> +Canst thou not mark the rising sneers<br> +Duplicity in vain would veil?<br> +<br> +6<br> +These tales in secret silence hush,<br> +Nor make thyself the public gaze:<br> +What modest maid without a blush<br> +Recounts a flattering coxcomb's praise?<br> +<br> +7.<br> +Will not the laughing boy despise<br> +Her who relates each fond conceit--<br> +Who, thinking Heaven is in her eyes,<br> +Yet cannot see the slight deceit?<br> +<br> +8.<br> +For she who takes a soft delight<br> +These amorous nothings in revealing,<br> +Must credit all we say or write,<br> +While vanity prevents concealing.<br> +<br> +9.<br> +Cease, if you prize your Beauty's reign!<br> +No jealousy bids me reprove:<br> +One, who is thus from nature vain,<br> +I pity, but I cannot love.<br> +<br> +January 15, 1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f429"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý To A Young Lady (Miss Anne Houson) whose vanity +induced her to repeat the compliments paid her by some young men +of her acquaintance. <i>MS. Newstead.</i><br> +<a href="#section91">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section92"></a>To Anne<a href="#f430"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 201</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Oh, Anne, your offences to me have been grievous:<br> +I thought from my wrath no atonement could save you;<br> +But Woman is made to command and deceive us--<br> +I look'd in your face, and I almost forgave you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + I vow'd I could ne'er for a moment respect you,<br> + Yet thought that a day's separation was long;<br> +When we met, I determined again to suspect you--<br> + Your smile soon convinced me <i>suspicion</i> was wrong.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + I swore, in a transport of young indignation,<br> + With fervent contempt evermore to disdain you:<br> +I saw you--my <i>anger</i> became <i>admiration</i>;<br> + And now, all my wish, all my hope's to regain you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + With beauty like yours, oh, how vain the contention!<br> + Thus lowly I sue for forgiveness before you;--<br> +At once to conclude such a fruitless dissension,<br> + Be false, my sweet Anne, when I cease to adore you!<br> +<br> +<br> + January 16, 1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f430"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Miss Anne Houson.<br> +<a href="#section92">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section93"></a>Egotism. A Letter to J.T. Becher<a href= +"#f431"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><img src="images/BG12.gif" width="154" height="23" alt= +"Greek (transliterated): Heauton bur_on aeidei."><br> +<br> +1.<br> +<br> + If Fate should seal my Death to-morrow,<br> + (Though much <i>I</i> hope she will <i>postpone</i> it,)<br> +I've held a share <i>Joy</i> and <i>Sorrow</i>,<br> + Enough for <i>Ten</i>; and <i>here</i> I <i>own</i> it.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + I've lived, as many others live,<br> +And yet, I think, with more enjoyment;<br> +For could I through my days again live,<br> +I'd pass them in the <i>same</i> employment.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + That <i>is</i> to say, with <i>some exception</i>,<br> +For though I will not make confession,<br> +I've seen too much of man's deception<br> +Ever again to trust profession.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Some sage <i>Mammas</i> with gesture haughty,<br> +Pronounce me quite a youthful Sinner--<br> +But <i>Daughters</i> say, "although he's naughty,<br> +You must not check a <i>Young Beginner</i>!"<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + I've loved, and many damsels know it--<br> +But whom I don't intend to mention,<br> +As <i>certain stanzas</i> also show it,<br> +<i>Some</i> say <i>deserving Reprehension</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Some ancient Dames, of virtue fiery,<br> +(Unless Report does much belie them,)<br> +Have lately made a sharp Enquiry,<br> +And much it <i>grieves</i> me to <i>deny</i> them.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Two whom I lov'd had <i>eyes</i> of <i>Blue</i>,<br> +To which I hope you've no objection;<br> +The <i>Rest</i> had eyes of <i>darker Hue</i>--<br> +Each Nymph, of course, was <i>all perfection</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + But here I'll close my <i>chaste</i> Description,<br> +Nor say the deeds of animosity;<br> +For <i>silence</i> is the best prescription,<br> +To <i>physic</i> idle curiosity.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Of <i>Friends</i> I've known a <i>goodly Hundred</i>--<br> +For finding <i>one</i> in each acquaintance,<br> +By <i>some deceived</i>, by others plunder'd,<br> +<i>Friendship</i>, to me, was not <i>Repentance</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + At <i>School</i> I thought like other <i>Children</i>;<br> +Instead of <i>Brains</i>, a fine Ingredient,<br> +<i>Romance</i>, my <i>youthful Head bewildering</i>,<br> +To <i>Sense</i> had made me disobedient.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + A victim, <i>nearly</i> from affection,<br> +To certain <i>very precious scheming</i>,<br> +The still remaining recollection<br> +Has <i>cured</i> my <i>boyish soul</i> of <i>Dreaming</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + By Heaven! I rather would forswear<br> +The Earth, and all the joys reserved me,<br> +Than dare again the <i>specious Snare</i>,<br> +From which <i>my Fate</i> and <i>Heaven preserved</i> me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 13.<br> +<br> + Still I possess some Friends who love me--<br> +In each a much esteemed and true one;<br> +The Wealth of Worlds shall never move me<br> +To quit their Friendship, for a new one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 14.<br> +<br> + But Becher! you're a <i>reverend pastor</i>,<br> +Now take it in consideration,<br> +Whether for penance I should fast, or .<br> +Pray for my <i>sins</i> in expiation.<br> +<br> +<br> + 15.<br> +<br> + I own myself the child of <i>Folly</i>,<br> +But not so wicked as they make me--<br> +I soon must die of melancholy,<br> +If <i>Female</i> smiles should e'er forsake me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 16.<br> +<br> + <i>Philosophers</i> have <i>never doubted</i>,<br> +That <i>Ladies' Lips</i> were made for <i>kisses!</i><br> +For <i>Love!</i> I could not live without it,<br> +For such a <i>cursed</i> place as <i>This is</i>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 17.<br> +<br> + Say, Becher, I shall be forgiven!<br> +If you don't warrant my salvation,<br> +I must resign all <i>Hopes</i> of <i>Heaven</i>!<br> +For, <i>Faith</i>, I can't withstand Temptation.<br> +<br> +<br> + P.S.--These were written between one and two, after +<i>midnight</i>. I<br> +have not <i>corrected</i>, or <i>revised</i>. Yours, +<b>Byron</b>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f431"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<a href="#section93">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section94"></a>To Anne<a href="#f432"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 202</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1<br> +<br> + Oh say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed<br> +The heart which adores you should wish to dissever;<br> +Such Fates were to me most unkind ones indeed,--<br> +To bear me from Love and from Beauty for ever.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Your frowns, lovely girl, are the Fates which alone<br> +Could bid me from fond admiration refrain;<br> +By these, every hope, every wish were o'erthrown,<br> +Till smiles should restore me to rapture again.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + As the ivy and oak, in the forest entwin'd,<br> +The rage of the tempest united must weather;<br> +My love and my life were by nature design'd<br> +To flourish alike, or to perish together.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Then say not, sweet Anne, that the Fates have decreed<br> + Your lover should bid you a lasting adieu:<br> +Till Fate can ordain that his bosom shall bleed,<br> + His Soul, his Existence, are centred in you.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="fr7"><br> +<br> +</a> <a name="f432"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Miss Anne Houson.<br> +<a href="#section94">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section95">To the Author of a Sonnet Beginning, +"'Sad is my verse,' you say, 'and yet no tear.'"</a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 202</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Thy verse is "sad" enough, no doubt:<br> + A devilish deal more sad than witty!<br> +Why we should weep I can't find out,<br> + Unless for <i>thee</i> we weep in pity.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Yet there is one I pity more;<br> + And much, alas! I think he needs it:<br> +For he, I'm sure, will suffer sore,<br> + Who, to his own misfortune, reads it.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Thy rhymes, without the aid of magic,<br> + May <i>once</i> be read--but never after:<br> +Yet their effect's by no means tragic,<br> + Although by far too dull for laughter.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + But would you make our bosoms bleed,<br> +And of no common pang complain--<br> +If you would make us weep indeed,<br> +Tell us, you'll read them o'er again.<br> +<br> +<br> + March 8, 1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section96"></a>On Finding a Fan<a href="#f433"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, 203</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + In one who felt as once he felt,<br> +This might, perhaps, have fann'd the flame;<br> +But now his heart no more will melt,<br> +Because that heart is not the same.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + As when the ebbing flames are low,<br> +The aid which once improved their light,<br> +And bade them burn with fiercer glow,<br> +Now quenches all their blaze in night.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Thus has it been with Passion's fires--<br> +As many a boy and girl remembers--<br> +While every hope of love expires,<br> +Extinguish'd with the dying embers.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + The <i>first</i>, though not a spark survive,<br> + Some careful hand may teach to burn;<br> +The <i>last</i>, alas! can ne'er survive;<br> + No touch can bid its warmth return.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Or, if it chance to wake again,<br> + Not always doom'd its heat to smother,<br> +It sheds (so wayward fates ordain)<br> + Its former warmth around another.<br> +<br> +1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f433"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> ÝOf Miss A. H. (MS. Newstead).<br> +<a href="#section96">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section97"></a>Farewell to the Muse<a href="#f434"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 203.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Thou Power! who hast ruled me through Infancy's days,<br> + Young offspring of Fancy, 'tis time we should part;<br> +Then rise on the gale this the last of my lays,<br> + The coldest effusion which springs from my heart.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + This bosom, responsive to rapture no more,<br> + Shall hush thy wild notes, nor implore thee to sing;<br> +The feelings of childhood, which taught thee to soar,<br> + Are wafted far distant on Apathy's wing.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Though simple the themes of my rude flowing Lyre,<br> + Yet even these themes are departed for ever;<br> +No more beam the eyes which my dream could inspire,<br> + My visions are flown, to return,--alas, never!<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + When drain'd is the nectar which gladdens the bowl,<br> + How vain is the effort delight to prolong!<br> +When cold is the beauty which dwelt in my soul<a href= +"#f435"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr435">What</a> magic of Fancy can lengthen my +song?<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Can the lips sing of Love in the desert alone,<br> + Of kisses and smiles which they now must resign?<br> +Or dwell with delight on the hours that are flown?<br> + Ah, no! for those hours can no longer be mine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Can they speak of the friends that I lived but to love<a href= +"#f436"><sup>c</sup></a>?<br> + <a name="fr436">Ah</a>, surely Affection ennobles the +strain!<br> +But how can my numbers in sympathy move,<br> + When I scarcely can hope to behold them again?<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Can I sing of the deeds which my Fathers have done,<br> + And raise my loud harp to the fame of my Sires?<br> +For glories like theirs, oh, how faint is my tone!<br> + For Heroes' exploits how unequal my fires!<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Untouch'd, then, my Lyre shall reply to the blast--<br> + 'Tis hush'd; and my feeble endeavours are o'er;<br> +And those who have heard it will pardon the past,<br> + When they know that its murmurs shall vibrate no more.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + And soon shall its wild erring notes be forgot,<br> + Since early affection and love is o'ercast:<br> +Oh! blest had my Fate been, and happy my lot,<br> + Had the first strain of love been the dearest, the last.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + Farewell, my young Muse! since we now can ne'er meet<a href= +"#f437"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr437">If</a> our songs have been languid, they surely +are few:<br> +Let us hope that the present at least will be sweet--<br> + The present--which seals our eternal Adieu.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1807. [First published, 1832.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f434"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Adieu to the Muse...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#section97">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f435"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>When cold is the form...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr435">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f436"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>whom I lived but to love...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr436">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f437"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Since we never can meet...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr437">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section98"></a>To an Oak at Newstead<a href= +"#f438"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Works</i>, 1832, vii. 206</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Young Oak! when I planted thee deep in the ground,<br> + I hoped that thy days would be longer than mine;<br> +That thy dark-waving branches would flourish around,<br> + And ivy thy trunk with its mantle entwine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Such, such was my hope, when in Infancy's years,<br> + On the land of my Fathers I rear'd thee with pride;<br> +They are past, and I water thy stem with my tears,--<br> + Thy decay, not the <i>weeds</i> that surround thee can hide.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + I left thee, my Oak, and, since that fatal hour,<br> + A stranger has dwelt in the hall of my Sire;<br> +Till Manhood shall crown me, not mine is the power,<br> + But his, whose neglect may have bade thee expire.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Oh! hardy thou wert--even now little care<br> + Might revive thy young head, and thy wounds gently<br> + heal:<br> +But thou wert not fated affection to share--<br> + For who could suppose that a Stranger would feel?<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Ah, droop not, my Oak! lift thy head for a while;<br> + Ere twice round yon Glory this planet shall run,<br> +The hand of thy Master will teach thee to smile,<br> + When Infancy's years of probation are done.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Oh, live then, my Oak! tow'r aloft from the weeds,<br> + That clog thy young growth, and assist thy decay,<br> +For still in thy bosom are Life's early seeds,<br> + And still may thy branches their beauty display.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Oh! yet, if Maturity's years may be thine,<br> + Though <i>I</i> shall lie low in the cavern of Death,<br> +On thy leaves yet the day-beam of ages may shine<a href= +"#f439"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr439">Uninjured</a> by Time, or the rude Winter's +breath.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + For centuries still may thy boughs lightly wave<br> + O'er the corse of thy Lord in thy canopy laid;<br> +While the branches thus gratefully shelter his grave,<br> + The Chief who survives may recline in thy shade.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + And as he, with his boys, shall revisit this spot,<br> + He will tell them in whispers more softly to tread.<br> +Oh! surely, by these I shall ne'er be forgot;<br> + Remembrance still hallows the dust of the dead.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + And here, will they say, when in Life's glowing prime,<br> + Perhaps he has pour'd forth his young simple lay,<br> +And here must he sleep, till the moments of Time<br> + Are lost in the hours of Eternity's day.<br> +<br> +<br> + 1807. [First published 1832.]<br> +<br> + ["Copied for Mr. Moore, Jan. 24, 1828."--Note by Miss +Pigot.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Oak footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f438"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý There is no heading to the +original MS., but on the blank leaf at the end of the poem is +written, + +<blockquote><i>"To an oak in the garden of Newstead Abbey, +planted by the author in the 9th year of [his] age; this tree at +his last visit was in a state of decay, though perhaps not +irrecoverable."</i></blockquote> + +On arriving at Newstead, in 1798, Byron, then in his eleventh +year, planted an oak, and cherished the fancy, that as the tree +flourished so should he. On revisiting the abbey, he found the +oak choked up by weeds and almost destroyed;--hence these lines. +Shortly after Colonel Wildman took possession, he said to a +servant, + +<blockquote>"Here is a fine young oak; but it must be cut down, +as it grows in an improper place."<br> +<br> + "I hope not, sir, "replied the man, "for it's the one that my +lord was so fond of, because he set it himself."</blockquote> + +<i>Life</i>, p. 50, note.<br> +<a href="#section98">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f439"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>For ages may shine...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr439">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section99"></a>On Revisiting Harrow<a href="#f440"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Letters and Journals</i>, i. 102</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Here once engaged the stranger's view<br> + Young Friendship's record simply trac'd;<br> +Few were her words,--but yet, though few,<br> + Resentment's hand the line defac'd.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Deeply she cut--but not eras'd--<br> + The characters were still so plain,<br> +That Friendship once return'd, and gaz'd,--<br> + Till Memory hail'd the words again.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Repentance plac'd them as before;<br> + Forgiveness join'd her gentle name;<br> +So fair the inscription seem'd once more,<br> + That Friendship thought it still the same.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Thus might the Record now have been;<br> + But, ah, in spite of Hope's endeavour,<br> +Or Friendship's tears, Pride rush'd between,<br> + And blotted out the line for ever.<br> +<br> +<br> + September, 1807.<br> +<br> + [First published in Moore's <i>Life and Letters, etc.</i>, 1830, +i. 102.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f440"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý + +<blockquote>"Some years ago, when at Harrow, a friend of the +author engraved on a particular spot the names of both, with a +few additional words, as a memorial. Afterwards, on receiving +some real or imaginary injury, the author destroyed the frail +record before he left Harrow. On revisiting the place in 1807, he +wrote under it these stanzas."</blockquote> + +Moore's <i>Life, etc.</i>, i. 102.<br> +<a href="#section99">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section100"></a>To my Son<a href="#f441"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Letters and Journals</i>, i. 104</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Those flaxen locks, those eyes of blue<br> +Bright as thy mother's in their hue;<br> +Those rosy lips, whose dimples play<br> +And smile to steal the heart away,<br> +Recall a scene of former joy,<br> +And touch thy father's heart, my Boy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + And thou canst lisp a father's name--<br> +Ah, William, were thine own the same,--<br> +No self-reproach--but, let me cease--<br> +My care for thee shall purchase peace;<br> +Thy mother's shade shall smile in joy,<br> +And pardon all the past, my Boy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Her lowly grave the turf has prest,<br> +And thou hast known a stranger's breast;<br> +Derision sneers upon thy birth,<br> +And yields thee scarce a name on earth;<br> +Yet shall not these one hope destroy,--<br> +A Father's heart is thine, my Boy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Why, let the world unfeeling frown,<br> +Must I fond Nature's claims disown?<br> +Ah, no--though moralists reprove,<br> +I hail thee, dearest child of Love,<br> +Fair cherub, pledge of youth and joy--<br> +A Father guards thy birth, my Boy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Oh,'twill be sweet in thee to trace,<br> +Ere Age has wrinkled o'er my face,<br> +Ere half my glass of life is run,<br> +At once a brother and a son;<br> +And all my wane of years employ<br> +In justice done to thee, my Boy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Although so young thy heedless sire,<br> +Youth will not damp parental fire;<br> +And, wert thou still less dear to me,<br> +While Helen's form revives in thee,<br> +The breast, which beat to former joy,<br> +Will ne'er desert its pledge, my Boy!<br> +<br> +<br> + 1807.<br> +<br> + [First published in Moore's <i>Life and Letters, etc.</i>, 1830, +i. 104.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<a name="f441"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý For a reminiscence of what was, possibly, an actual +event, see <i>Don Juan</i>, canto xvi. st. 61. He told Lady Byron +that he had two natural children, whom he should provide for.<br> +<a href="#section100">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section101"></a>Queries to Casuists<a href="#f442"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>The Moralists tell us that Loving is Sinning,<br> + And always are prating about and about it,<br> +But as Love of Existence itself's the beginning,<br> + Say, what would Existence itself be without it?<br> +<br> + They argue the point with much furious Invective,<br> + Though perhaps 'twere no difficult task to confute it;<br> +But if Venus and Hymen should once prove defective,<br> + Pray who would there be to defend or dispute it?<br> +<br> +<b>Byron</b>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f442"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. (watermark 1805) at Newstead, +now for the first time printed.<br> +<a href="#section101">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section102"></a>Song. Breeze of the Night<a href= +"#f443"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Breeze of the night in gentler sighs<br> + More softly murmur o'er the pillow;<br> +For Slumber seals my Fanny's eyes,<br> + And Peace must never shun her pillow.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Or breathe those sweet Æolian strains<br> + Stolen from celestial spheres above,<br> +To charm her ear while some remains,<br> + And soothe her soul to dreams of love.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + But Breeze of night again forbear,<br> + In softest murmurs only sigh:<br> +Let not a Zephyr's pinion dare<br> + To lift those auburn locks on high.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Chill is thy Breath, thou breeze of night!<br> + Oh! ruffle not those lids of Snow;<br> +For only Morning's cheering light<br> + May wake the beam that lurks below.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Blest be that lip and azure eye!<br> + Sweet Fanny, hallowed be thy Sleep!<br> +Those lips shall never vent a sigh,<br> + Those eyes may never wake to weep.<br> +<br> + February 23rd, 1808.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f443"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From the MS. in the possession of the Earl of +Lovelace.<br> +<a href="#section102">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section103"></a>To Harriet<a href="#f444"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Harriet! to see such Circumspection<a href= +"#f445"><sup>2</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr445">In</a> Ladies I have no objection<br> + Concerning what they read;<br> +An ancient Maid's a sage adviser,<br> +Like <i>her</i>, you will be much the wiser,<br> + In word, as well as Deed.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But Harriet, I don't wish to flatter,<br> +And really think 't would make the matter<br> + More perfect if not quite,<br> +If other Ladies when they preach,<br> +Would certain Damsels also teach<br> + More cautiously to write.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<a name="f444"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý From an autograph MS. at Newstead, now for the first +time printed.<br> +<a href="#section103">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f445"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý See the poem <a href="#section58"><i>To +Marion</i></a>, and <a href="#f277"><i>note</i></a>, p. 129. It +would seem that J. T. Becher addressed some flattering lines to +Byron with reference to a poem concerning Harriet Maltby, +possibly the lines <i>To Marion</i>. The following note was +attached by Miss Pigot to these stanzas, which must have been +written on another occasion:-- + +<blockquote>"I saw Lord B. was <i>flattered</i> by John Becher's +lines, as he read <i>Apollo</i>, etc., with a peculiar smile and +emphasis; so out of <i>fun</i>, to vex him a little, I said,<br> +<br> + '<i>Apollo!</i> He <i>should</i> have said <i>Apollyon</i>.'<br> +<br> + 'Elizabeth! for Heaven's sake don't say so again! I don't mind +<i>you</i> telling me so; but if any one <i>else</i> got hold +<i>of the word</i>, I should never hear the end of it.' So I +laughed at him, and dropt it, for he was <i>red</i> with +agitation."</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section104"></a>There was a Time, I need not name<a +href="#f446"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a> <a href="#f447"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 200</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + There was a time, I need not name,<br> + Since it will ne'er forgotten be,<br> +When all our feelings were the same<br> + As still my soul hath been to thee.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + And from that hour when first thy tongue<br> + Confess'd a love which equall'd mine,<br> +Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,<br> + Unknown, and thus unfelt, by thine,<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + None, none hath sunk so deep as this--<br> + To think how all that love hath flown;<br> +Transient as every faithless kiss,<br> + But transient in thy breast alone.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + And yet my heart some solace knew,<br> + When late I heard thy lips declare,<br> +In accents once imagined true,<br> + Remembrance of the days that were.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Yes! my adored, yet most unkind!<br> + Though thou wilt never love again,<br> +<a name="fr448">To</a> me 'tis doubly sweet to find<br> + Remembrance of that love remain<a href= +"#f448"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Yes! 'tis a glorious thought to me,<br> + Nor longer shall my soul repine,<br> +Whate'er thou art or e'er shall be,<br> + Thou hast been dearly, solely mine.<br> +<br> +<br> +June 10, 1808. [First published, 1809]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Time footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f446"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý This copy of verses, with +eight others, originally appeared in a volume published in 1809 +by J. C. Hobhouse, under the title of <i>Imitations and +Translations, From the Ancient and Modern Classics, Together with +Original Poems never before published</i>. The MS. is in the +possession of the Earl of Lovelace.<br> +<a href="#section104">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f447"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Stanzas to the Same.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.,</i> p. 200.]<br> +<a href="#section104">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f448"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The memory of that love again...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr448">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section105"></a>And wilt Thou weep when I am low?<a +href="#f449"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 202</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + And wilt thou weep when I am low?<br> + Sweet lady! speak those words again:<br> +Yet if they grieve thee, say not so--<br> + I would not give that bosom pain.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + My heart is sad, my hopes are gone,<br> + My blood runs coldly through my breast;<br> +And when I perish, thou alone<br> + Wilt sigh above my place of rest.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + And yet, methinks, a gleam of peace<br> + Doth through my cloud of anguish shine:<br> +And for a while my sorrows cease,<br> + To know thy heart hath felt for mine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Oh lady! blessèd be that tear--<br> + It falls for one who cannot weep;<br> +Such precious drops are doubly dear<a href= +"#f450"><sup>b</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr450">To</a> those whose eyes no tear may steep.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Sweet lady! once my heart was warm<br> + With every feeling soft as thine;<br> +But Beauty's self hath ceased to charm<br> + A wretch created to repine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<a href="#f451"><sup>c</sup></a><br> +<br> + <a name="fr451">Yet</a> wilt thou weep when I am low?<br> +Sweet lady! speak those words again:<br> +<a name="fr452">Yet</a> if they grieve thee, say not so--<br> +I would not give that bosom pain<a href= +"#f452"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +Aug. 12, 1808. [First published, 1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Weep footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f452"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý It was in one of Byron's +fits of melancholy that the following verses were addressed to +him by his friend John Cam Hobhouse:-- + +<blockquote><i>Epistle To A Young Nobleman In Love</i>.<br> +<br> + Hail! generous youth, whom glory's sacred flame<br> +Inspires, and animates to deeds of fame;<br> +Who feel the noble wish before you die<br> +To raise the finger of each passer-by:<br> +Hail! may a future age admiring view<br> +A Falkland or a Clarendon in you.<br> + But as your blood with dangerous passion boils,<br> +Beware! and fly from Venus' silken toils:<br> +Ah! let the head protect the weaker heart,<br> +And Wisdom's Ægis turn on Beauty's dart.<br> + ...<br> + But if 'tis fix'd that every lord must pair,<br> +And you and Newstead must not want an heir,<br> +Lose not your pains, and scour the country round,<br> +To find a treasure that can ne'er be found!<br> +No! take the first the town or court affords,<br> +Trick'd out to stock a market for the lords;<br> +By chance perhaps your luckier choice may fall<br> +On one, though wicked, not the worst of all:<br> + ...<br> +One though perhaps as any Maxwell free,<br> +Yet scarce a copy, Claribel, of thee;<br> +Not very ugly, and not very old,<br> +A little pert indeed, but not a scold;<br> +One that, in short, may help to lead a life<br> +Not farther much from comfort than from strife;<br> +And when she dies, and disappoints your fears,<br> +Shall leave some joys for your declining years.<br> + But, as your early youth some time allows,<br> +Nor custom yet demands you for a spouse,<br> +Some hours of freedom may remain as yet,<br> +For one who laughs alike at love and debt:<br> +Then, why in haste? put off the evil day,<br> +And snatch at youthful comforts while you may!<br> +Pause! nor so soon the various bliss forego<br> +That single souls, and such alone, can know:<br> +Ah! why too early careless life resign,<br> +Your morning slumber, and your evening wine;<br> +Your loved companion, and his easy talk;<br> +Your Muse, invoked in every peaceful walk?<br> +What! can no more your scenes paternal please,<br> +Scenes sacred long to wise, unmated ease?<br> +The prospect lengthen'd o'er the distant down,<br> +Lakes, meadows, rising woods, and all your own?<br> +What! shall your Newstead, shall your cloister'd bowers,<br> +The high o'erhanging arch and trembling towers!<br> +Shall these, profaned with folly or with strife,<br> +An ever fond, or ever angry wife!<br> +Shall these no more confess a manly sway,<br> +But changeful woman's changing whims obey?<br> +Who may, perhaps, as varying humour calls,<br> +Contract your cloisters and o'erthrow your walls;<br> +Let Repton loose o'er all the ancient ground,<br> +Change round to square, and square convert to round;<br> +Root up the elms' and yews' too solemn gloom,<br> +And fill with shrubberies gay and green their room;<br> +Roll down the terrace to a gay parterre,<br> +Where gravel'd walks and flowers alternate glare;<br> +And quite transform, in every point complete,<br> +Your Gothic abbey to a country seat.<br> + Forget the fair one, and your fate delay;<br> +If not avert, at least defer the day,<br> +When you beneath the female yoke shall bend,<br> +And lose your <i>wit</i>, your <i>temper</i>, and your +<i>friend</i><a href="#f453"><sup>A</sup></a>.<br> + Trin. Coll. Camb., 1808.</blockquote> + +<a name="f453"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> In his mother's copy of Hobhouse's volume, +Byron has written with a pencil, + +<blockquote>"I have lost them all, and shall <b>wed</b> +accordingly. 1811. B."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr452">return to main footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f449"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Stanzas....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>] + +<blockquote><i>To the Same.....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.,</i> p. 202.]<br> +<a href="#section105">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f450"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>For one whose life is torment here, And only in +the dust may sleep....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr450">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f451"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý The MS. inserts:-- + +<blockquote><i>Lady I will not tell my tale<br> + For it would rend thy melting heart;<br> + 'Twere pity sorrow should prevail<br> + O'er one so gentle as thou art....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr451">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section106"></a>Remind me not, Remind me not<a href= +"#f455"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 197</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Remind me not, remind me not,<br> + Of those beloved, those vanish'd hours,<br> + When all my soul was given to thee;<br> +Hours that may never be forgot,<br> + Till Time unnerves our vital powers,<br> + And thou and I shall cease to be.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + Can I forget--canst thou forget,<br> + When playing with thy golden hair,<br> + How quick thy fluttering heart did move?<br> +Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet,<br> + With eyes so languid, breast so fair,<br> + And lips, though silent, breathing love.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + When thus reclining on my breast,<br> + Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet,<br> + As half reproach'd yet rais'd desire,<br> +And still we near and nearer prest,<br> + And still our glowing lips would meet,<br> + As if in kisses to expire.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + And then those pensive eyes would close,<br> + And bid their lids each other seek,<br> + Veiling the azure orbs below;<br> +While their long lashes' darken'd gloss<br> + Seem'd stealing o'er thy brilliant cheek,<br> + Like raven's plumage smooth'd on snow.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + I dreamt last night our love return'd,<br> + And, sooth to say, that very dream<br> + Was sweeter in its phantasy,<br> +Than if for other hearts I burn'd,<br> + For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam<br> + In Rapture's wild reality.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Then tell me not, remind me not<a href= +"#f456"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr456">Of</a> hours which, though for ever gone,<br> + Can still a pleasing dream restore<a href= +"#f457"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr457">Till</a> thou and I shall be forgot,<br> + And senseless, as the mouldering stone<br> + Which tells that we shall be no more.<br> +<br> +<br> +Aug. 13, 1808. [First published, 1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f455"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>A Love Song. To----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.,</i> p. 197]<br> +<a href="#section106">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f456"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Remind me not, remind me not...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr456">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f457"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Must still...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr457">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section107"></a>To a Youthful Friend<a href= +"#f458"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 185</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Few years have pass'd since thou and I<br> + Were firmest friends, at least in name,<br> +<a name="fr459">And</a> Childhood's gay sincerity<br> + Preserved our feelings long the same<a href= +"#f459"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But now, like me, too well thou know'st<a href= +"#f460"><sup>c</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr460">What</a> trifles oft the heart recall;<br> +<a name="fr461">And</a> those who once have loved the most<br> + Too soon forget they lov'd at all.<a href= +"#f461"><sup>d</sup></a><br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr462">And</a> such the change the heart displays,<br> + So frail is early friendship's reign<a href= +"#f462"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr463">A</a> month's brief lapse, perhaps a day's,<br> + Will view thy mind estrang'd again<a href= +"#f463"><sup>f</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + If so, it never shall be mine<br> + To mourn the loss of such a heart;<br> +The fault was Nature's fault, not thine,<br> + Which made thee fickle as thou art.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + As rolls the Ocean's changing tide,<br> + So human feelings ebb and flow;<br> +And who would in a breast confide<br> + Where stormy passions ever glow?<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + It boots not that, together bred,<br> + Our childish days were days of joy:<br> +My spring of life has quickly fled;<br> + Thou, too, hast ceas'd to be a boy.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + And when we bid adieu to youth,<br> + Slaves to the specious World's controul,<br> +We sigh a long farewell to truth;<br> + That World corrupts the noblest soul.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Ah, joyous season! when the mind<a href= +"#f464"><sup>1</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr464">Dares</a> all things boldly but to lie;<br> +When Thought ere spoke is unconfin'd,<br> + And sparkles in the placid eye.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Not so in Man's maturer years,<br> + When Man himself is but a tool;<br> +When Interest sways our hopes and fears,<br> + And all must love and hate by rule.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + With fools in kindred vice the same<a href= +"#f465"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr465">We</a> learn at length our faults to blend;<br> +And those, and those alone, may claim<br> + The prostituted name of friend.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + Such is the common lot of man:<br> + Can we then 'scape from folly free?<br> +Can we reverse the general plan,<br> + Nor be what all in turn must be?<br> +<br> +<br> + 12.<br> +<br> + No; for myself, so dark my fate<br> + Through every turn of life hath been;<br> +Man and the World so much I hate,<br> + I care not when I quit the scene.<br> +<br> +<br> + 13.<br> +<br> + But thou, with spirit frail and light,<br> + Wilt shine awhile, and pass away;<br> +As glow-worms sparkle through the night,<br> + But dare not stand the test of day.<br> +<br> +<br> + 14.<br> +<br> + Alas! whenever Folly calls<br> + Where parasites and princes meet,<br> +(For cherish'd first in royal halls,<br> + The welcome vices kindly greet,)<br> +<br> +<br> + 15.<br> +<br> + Ev'n now thou'rt nightly seen to add<br> + One insect to the fluttering crowd;<br> +And still thy trifling heart is glad<br> + To join the vain and court the proud.<br> +<br> +<br> + 16.<br> +<br> + There dost thou glide from fair to fair,<br> + Still simpering on with eager haste,<br> +As flies along the gay parterre,<br> + That taint the flowers they scarcely taste.<br> +<br> +<br> + 17.<br> +<br> + But say, what nymph will prize the flame<br> + Which seems, as marshy vapours move,<br> +To flit along from dame to dame,<br> + An <i>ignis-fatuus</i> gleam of love?<br> +<br> +<br> + 18.<br> +<br> + What friend for thee, howe'er inclin'd,<br> + Will deign to own a kindred care?<br> +Who will debase his manly mind,<br> + For friendship every fool may share?<br> +<br> +<br> + 19.<br> +<br> + In time forbear; amidst the throng<br> + No more so base a thing be seen;<br> +No more so idly pass along;<br> + Be something, any thing, but--mean.<br> +<br> +<br> +August 20th, 1808. [First published, 1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Youthful footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f464"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý Stanzas 8-9 are not in the +MS.<br> + <a href="#fr464">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f458"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>To Sir W. D., on his using the expression, "Soyes +constant en amitie."...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section107">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f459"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>'Twere well my friend if still with thee<br> + Through every scene of joy and woe,<br> + That thought could ever cherish'd be<br> + As warm as it was wont to glow....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr459">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f460"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And yet like me...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr460">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f461"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Forget they ever...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. Imit. and Transl., p. 185.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr461">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f462"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>So short...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr462">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f463"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>...a day<br> + Will send my friendship back again...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr463">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f465"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Each fool whose vices are the same<br> + Whose faults with ours may blend...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr465">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section108"></a>Lines Inscribed upon a Cup Formed from a +Skull<a href="#f466"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b>First published, <i>Childe Harold</i>, Cantos i., ii. (Seventh +Edition), 1814</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Start not--nor deem my spirit fled:<br> + In me behold the only skull,<br> +From which, unlike a living head,<br> + Whatever flows is never dull.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee:<br> + I died: let earth my bones resign;<br> +Fill up--thou canst not injure me;<br> + The worm hath fouler lips than thine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Better to hold the sparkling grape,<br> + Than nurse the earth-worm's slimy brood;<br> +And circle in the goblet's shape<br> + The drink of Gods, than reptile's food.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + Where once my wit, perchance, hath shone,<br> + In aid of others' let me shine;<br> +And when, alas! our brains are gone,<br> + What nobler substitute than wine?<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Quaff while thou canst: another race,<br> + When thou and thine, like me, are sped,<br> +May rescue thee from earth's embrace,<br> + And rhyme and revel with the dead.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Why not? since through life's little day<br> + Our heads such sad effects produce;<br> +Redeem'd from worms and wasting clay,<br> + This chance is theirs, to be of use.<br> +<br> +<br> + Newstead Abbey, 1808.<br> +<br> + [First published in the seventh edition of <i>Childe +Harold</i>.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f466"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý Byron gave Medwin the following account of this cup: +-- + +<blockquote>"The gardener in digging [discovered] a skull that +had probably belonged to some jolly friar or monk of the abbey, +about the time it was dis-monasteried. Observing it to be of +giant size, and in a perfect state of preservation, a strange +fancy seized me of having it set and mounted as a drinking cup. I +accordingly sent it to town, and it returned with a very high +polish, and of a mottled colour like tortoiseshell."</blockquote> + +Medwin's <i>Conversations</i>, 1824, p. 87.<br> +<a href="#section108">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section109"></a>Well! Thou art Happy<a href= +"#f467"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a> <a +href="#f468"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 192</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Well! thou art happy, and I feel<br> + That I should thus be happy too;<br> +For still my heart regards thy weal<br> + Warmly, as it was wont to do.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr469">Thy</a> husband's blest--and 'twill impart<br> + Some pangs to view his happier lot<a href= +"#f469"><sup>b</sup></a>:<br> +But let them pass--Oh! how my heart<br> + Would hate him if he loved thee not!<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + When late I saw thy favourite child,<br> + I thought my jealous heart would break;<br> +But when the unconscious infant smil'd,<br> + I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + I kiss'd it,--and repress'd my sighs<br> + Its father in its face to see;<br> +But then it had its mother's eyes,<br> + And they were all to love and me.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5<a href="#f470"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr470">Mary</a>, adieu! I must away:<br> + While thou art blest I'll not repine;<br> +But near thee I can never stay;<br> + My heart would soon again be thine.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + I deem'd that Time, I deem'd that Pride,<br> + Had quench'd at length my boyish flame;<br> +Nor knew, till seated by thy side,<br> + My heart in all,--save hope,--the same.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + Yet was I calm: I knew the time<br> + My breast would thrill before thy look;<br> +But now to tremble were a crime--<br> + We met,--and not a nerve was shook.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + I saw thee gaze upon my face,<br> + Yet meet with no confusion there:<br> +One only feeling couldst thou trace;<br> + The sullen calmness of despair.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + Away! away! my early dream<br> + Remembrance never must awake:<br> +Oh! where is Lethe's fabled stream?<br> + My foolish heart be still, or break.<br> +<br> +<br> +November, 1808. [First published, 1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Well footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f467"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý These lines were written +after dining at Annesley with Mr. and Mrs. Chaworth Musters. +Their daughter, born 1806, and now Mrs. Hamond, of Westacre, +Norfolk, is still (January, 1898) living.<br> +<a href="#section109">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f468"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>To Mrs.----[erased]...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>] + +<blockquote><i>To-----</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i> Hobhouse, 1809.]<br> +<a href="#section109">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f469"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Some pang to see my rival's +lot...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr469">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f470"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý MS. L. inserts-- + +<blockquote><i>Poor little pledge of mutual love,<br> + I would not hurt a hair of thee,<br> + Although thy birth should chance to prove<br> + Thy parents' bliss--my misery....</i></blockquote> + +<a href="#fr470">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section110"></a>Inscription on the Monument of a +Newfoundland Dog<a href="#f471"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 190</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>When some proud son of man returns to earth,<br> +Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,<br> +The sculptor's art exhausts the pomp of woe<br> +And storied urns record who rest below:<br> +When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,<br> +Not what he was, but what he should have been:<br> +But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,<br> +The first to welcome, foremost to defend,<br> +Whose honest heart is still his master's own,<br> +Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,<br> +Unhonour'd falls, unnoticed all his worth--<br> +Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:<br> +While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,<br> +And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven.<br> +Oh Man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,<br> +Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,<br> +Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,<br> +Degraded mass of animated dust!<br> +Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,<br> +Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!<br> +By nature vile, ennobled but by name,<br> +Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.<br> +Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,<br> +Pass on--it honours none you wish to mourn:<br> +<a name="fr472">To</a> mark a Friend's remains these stones +arise;<br> +I never knew but one,--and here he lies<a href= +"#f472"><sup>a</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +Newstead Abbey, October 30, 1808. [First published, +1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Boatswain footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f471"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý This monument is placed in +the garden of Newstead. A prose inscription precedes the +verses:-- + +<blockquote>"Near this spot<br> + Are deposited the Remains of one<br> + Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,<br> + Strength without Insolence,<br> + Courage without Ferocity,<br> + And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.<br> +This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery<br> + If inscribed over human ashes,<br> + Is but a just tribute to the Memory of<br> + <b>Boatswain</b>, a Dog,<br> + Who was born at Newfoundland, May, 1803,<br> + And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 18, 1808."</blockquote> + +Byron thus announced the death of his favourite to his friend +Hodgson:-- + +<blockquote>"Boatswain is dead!--he expired in a state of madness +on the 18th after suffering much, yet retaining all the +gentleness of his nature to the last; never attempting to do the +least injury to any one near him. I have now lost everything +except old Murray."</blockquote> + +In the will which the poet executed in 1811, he desired to be +buried in the vault with his dog, and Joe Murray was to have the +honour of making one of the party. When the poet was on his +travels, a gentleman, to whom Murray showed the tomb, said,<br> +<br> +"Well, old boy, you will take your place here some twenty years +hence."<br> +<br> +"I don't know that, sir," replied Joe; "if I was sure his +lordship would come here I should like it well enough, but I +should not like to lie alone with the dog."<br> +<br> +<i>Life</i>, pp. 73, 131.<br> +<a href="#section110">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f472"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>I knew but one unchang'd--and here he +lies.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i> p. 191.]<br> +<a href="#fr472">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section111"></a>To a Lady<a href="#f473"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a>, On Being asked my +reason for quitting England in the Spring<a href="#f474"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 195</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + When Man, expell'd from Eden's bowers,<br> + A moment linger'd near the gate,<br> +Each scene recall'd the vanish'd hours,<br> + And bade him curse his future fate.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But, wandering on through distant climes,<br> + He learnt to bear his load of grief;<br> +Just gave a sigh to other times,<br> + And found in busier scenes relief.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + Thus, Lady! will it be with me<a href= +"#f475"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr475">And</a> I must view thy charms no more;<br> +For, while I linger near to thee,<br> + I sigh for all I knew before.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + In flight I shall be surely wise,<br> + Escaping from temptation's snare:<br> +<a name="fr476">I</a> cannot view my Paradise<br> + Without the wish of dwelling there<a href= +"#f476"><sup>2</sup></a> <a href="#f477"><sup>c</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr477">December</a> 2, 1808. [First published, +1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Spring footnotes" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f473"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý Byron had written to his +mother on November 2, 1808, announcing his intention of sailing +for India in the following March. See <i>Childe Harold</i>, canto +i. st. 3. See also Letter to Hodgson, Nov. 27, 1808.<br> +<a href="#section111">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f474"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>The Farewell To a Lady...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i>]<br> +<a href="#section111">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f476"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> ÝIn an unpublished letter of +Byron to----, dated within a few days of his final departure from +Italy to Greece, in 1823, he writes: + +<blockquote>"Miss Chaworth was two years older than myself. She +married a man of an ancient and respectable family, but her +marriage was not a happier one than my own. Her conduct, however, +was irreproachable; but there was not sympathy between their +characters. I had not seen her for many years when an occasion +offered to me, January, 1814. I was upon the point, with her +consent, of paying her a visit, when my sister, who has always +had more influence over me than any one else, persuaded me not to +do it. "For," said she, "if you go you will fall in love again, +and then there will be a scene; one step will lead to another, +<i>et cela fera un éclat</i>."<br> +</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr476">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f475"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Thus Mary!_ (Mrs. Musters)....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr475">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f477"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Without a wish to enter there...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i>, p. 196.]<br> +<a href="#fr477">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section112"></a>Fill the Goblet Again<a href= +"#f478"><span style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a>. A +Song</h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 204</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Fill the goblet again! for I never before<br> +Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its core;<br> +Let us drink!--who would not?--since, through life's varied +round,<br> +In the goblet alone no deception is found.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + I have tried in its turn all that life can supply;<br> +I have bask'd in the beam of a dark rolling eye;<br> +I have lov'd!--who has not?--but what heart can declare<br> +That Pleasure existed while Passion was there?<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + In the days of my youth, when the heart's in its spring,<br> +And dreams that Affection can never take wing,<br> +I had friends!--who has not?--but what tongue will avow,<br> +That friends, rosy wine! are so faithful as thou?<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange,<br> +Friendship shifts with the sunbeam--thou never canst change;<br> +Thou grow'st old--who does not?--but on earth what appears,<br> +Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its years?<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + Yet if blest to the utmost that Love can bestow,<br> +Should a rival bow down to our idol below,<br> +We are jealous!--who's not?--thou hast no such alloy;<br> +For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + Then the season of youth and its vanities past,<br> +For refuge we fly to the goblet at last;<br> +There we find--do we not?--in the flow of the soul,<br> +That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth,<br> +And Misery's triumph commenc'd over Mirth,<br> +Hope was left,--was she not?--but the goblet we kiss,<br> +And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown,<br> +The age of our nectar shall gladden our own:<br> +We must die--who shall not?--May our sins be forgiven,<br> +And Hebe shall never be idle in Heaven.<br> +<br> +<br> + [First published, 1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f478"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Song...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i>, p. 204]<br> +<a href="#section112">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section113"></a>Stanzas to a Lady, on Leaving England<a +href="#f479"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b><i>Imitations and Translations</i>, 1809, p. 227</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>1.<br> +<br> + Tis done--and shivering in the gale<br> +The bark unfurls her snowy sail;<br> +And whistling o'er the bending mast,<br> +Loud sings on high the fresh'ning blast;<br> +And I must from this land be gone,<br> +Because I cannot love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 2.<br> +<br> + But could I be what I have been,<br> +And could I see what I have seen--<br> +Could I repose upon the breast<br> +Which once my warmest wishes blest--<br> +I should not seek another zone,<br> +Because I cannot love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 3.<br> +<br> + 'Tis long since I beheld that eye<br> +Which gave me bliss or misery;<br> +And I have striven, but in vain,<br> +Never to think of it again:<br> +For though I fly from Albion,<br> +I still can only love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 4.<br> +<br> + As some lone bird, without a mate,<br> +My weary heart is desolate;<br> +I look around, and cannot trace<br> +One friendly smile or welcome face,<br> +And ev'n in crowds am still alone,<br> +Because I cannot love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 5.<br> +<br> + And I will cross the whitening foam,<br> +And I will seek a foreign home;<br> +Till I forget a false fair face,<br> +I ne'er shall find a resting-place;<br> +My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,<br> +But ever love, and love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 6.<br> +<br> + The poorest, veriest wretch on earth<br> +Still finds some hospitable hearth,<br> +Where Friendship's or Love's softer glow<br> +May smile in joy or soothe in woe;<br> +But friend or leman I have none<a href= +"#f480"><sup>b</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr480">Because</a> I cannot love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 7.<br> +<br> + I go--but wheresoe'er I flee<br> +There's not an eye will weep for me;<br> +There's not a kind congenial heart,<br> +Where I can claim the meanest part;<br> +Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,<br> +Wilt sigh, although I love but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 8.<br> +<br> + To think of every early scene,<br> +Of what we are, and what we've been,<br> +Would whelm some softer hearts with woe--<br> +But mine, alas! has stood the blow;<br> +Yet still beats on as it begun,<br> +And never truly loves but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 9.<br> +<br> + And who that dear lov'd one may be,<br> +Is not for vulgar eyes to see;<br> +And why that early love was cross'd,<br> +Thou know'st the best, I feel the most;<br> +But few that dwell beneath the sun<br> +Have loved so long, and loved but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 10.<br> +<br> + I've tried another's fetters too,<br> +With charms perchance as fair to view;<br> +And I would fain have loved as well,<br> +But some unconquerable spell<br> +Forbade my bleeding breast to own<br> +A kindred care for aught but one.<br> +<br> +<br> + 11.<br> +<br> + 'Twould soothe to take one lingering view,<br> +And bless thee in my last adieu;<br> +Yet wish I not those eyes to weep<br> +<a name="fr481">For</a> him that wanders o'er the deep;<br> +His home, his hope, his youth are gone<a href= +"#f481"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr482">Yet</a> still he loves, and loves but one<a href= +"#f482"><sup>d</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +<br> +1809. [First published, 1809.]</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f479"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>To Mrs. Musters.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS</i>] + +<blockquote><i>To----on Leaving England.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i>, p. 227.]<br> +<a href="#section113">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f480"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>But friend or lover I have +none...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i>, p. 229.]<br> +<a href="#fr480">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f481"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Though wheresoever my bark may run,<br> + I love but thee, I love but one...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Imit. and Transl.</i>, p. 230.] + +<blockquote><i>The land recedes his Bark is gone,<br> + Yet still he loves and laves but one</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr481">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f482"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +d:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Yet far away he loves but one...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr482">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp3">Contents p.4</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section114">English Bards and Scotch +Reviewers</a></h2> + +<br> +<b><i>a satire.</i></b><br> +<br> +<b>by Lord Byron.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote><i>"I had rather be a kitten, and cry, mew!<br> + Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers."<br> +<br> + (Shakespeare.)<br> +<br> + "Such shameless Bards we have; and yet 'tis true,<br> + There are as mad, abandon'd Critics, too."<br> +<br> + (Pope.)</i></blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section114a"></a>Preface<a href="#f483"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +All my friends, learned and unlearned, have urged me not to +publish this Satire with my name. If I were to be "turned from +the career of my humour by quibbles quick, and paper bullets of +the brain" I should have complied with their counsel. But I am +not to be terrified by abuse, or bullied by reviewers, with or +without arms. I can safely say that I have attacked none +<i>personally</i>, who did not commence on the offensive. An +Author's works are public property: he who purchases may judge, +and publish his opinion if he pleases; and the Authors I have +endeavoured to commemorate may do by me as I have done by them. I +dare say they will succeed better in condemning my scribblings, +than in mending their own. But my object is not to prove that I +can write well, but, if <i>possible</i>, to make others write +better.<br> +<br> +As the Poem has met with far more success than I expected, I have +endeavoured in this Edition to make some additions and +alterations, to render it more worthy of public perusal.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr484">In</a> the First Edition of this Satire, +published anonymously, fourteen lines on the subject of Bowles's +Pope were written by, and inserted at the request of, an +ingenious friend of mine<a href="#f484"><sup>2</sup></a>, who has +now in the press a volume of Poetry. In the present Edition they +are erased, and some of my own substituted in their stead; my +only reason for this being that which I conceive would operate +with any other person in the same manner,--a determination not to +publish with my name any production, which was not entirely and +exclusively my own composition.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr485">With</a><a href="#f485"><sup>3</sup></a> regard +to the real talents of many of the poetical persons whose +performances are mentioned or alluded to in the following pages, +it is presumed by the Author that there can be little difference +of opinion in the Public at large; though, like other sectaries, +each has his separate tabernacle of proselytes, by whom his +abilities are over-rated, his faults overlooked, and his metrical +canons received without scruple and without consideration. But +the unquestionable possession of considerable genius by several +of the writers here censured renders their mental prostitution +more to be regretted. Imbecility may be pitied, or, at worst, +laughed at and forgotten; perverted powers demand the most +decided reprehension. No one can wish more than the Author that +some known and able writer had undertaken their exposure; but Mr. +Gifford has devoted himself to Massinger, and, in the absence of +the regular physician, a country practitioner may, in cases of +absolute necessity, be allowed to prescribe his nostrum to +prevent the extension of so deplorable an epidemic, provided +there be no quackery in his treatment of the malady. A caustic is +here offered; as it is to be feared nothing short of actual +cautery can recover the numerous patients afflicted with the +present prevalent and distressing rabies for rhyming.--As to the +<i>Edinburgh Reviewers</i>, it would indeed require an Hercules +to crush the Hydra; but if the Author succeeds in merely +"bruising one of the heads of the serpent" though his own hand +should suffer in the encounter, he will be amply satisfied.<br> +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f483"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span> Ý The Preface, as it is here printed, was prefixed to +the Second, Third, and Fourth Editions of <i>English Bards, and +Scotch Reviewers</i>. The preface to the First Edition began with +the words, "With regard to the real talents," etc. The text of +the poem follows that of the suppressed Fifth Edition, which +passed under Byron's own supervision, and was to have been issued +in 1812. From that Edition the Preface was altogether +excluded.<br> +<br> +In an annotated copy of the Fourth Edition, of 1811, underneath +the note, + +<blockquote>"This preface was written for the Second Edition, and +printed with it. The noble author had left this country previous +to the publication of that Edition, and is not yet +returned,"</blockquote> + +Byron wrote, in 1816, + +<blockquote>"He is, and gone again."</blockquote> + +MS. Notes from this volume, which is now in Mr. Murray's +possession, are marked--B., 1816.<br> +<a href="#section114a">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f484"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span> Ý John Cam Hobhouse.<br> +<a href="#fr484">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f485"></a><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +3:</span> Ý Preface to the First Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr485">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section114b">Introduction</a></h3> + +<br> +The article upon <i>Hours of Idleness</i> "which Lord Brougham +... after denying it for thirty years, confessed that he had +written" (<i>Notes from a Diary</i>, by Sir M. E. Grant Duff, +1897, ii. 189), was published in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> of +January, 1808. <i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i> did not +appear till March, 1809. The article gave the opportunity for the +publication of the satire, but only in part provoked its +composition. Years later, Byron had not forgotten its effect on +his mind. On April 26, 1821, he wrote to Shelley: + +<blockquote>"I recollect the effect on me of the Edinburgh on my +first poem: it was rage and resistance and redress: but not +despondency nor despair."</blockquote> + +And on the same date to Murray: + +<blockquote>"I know by experience that a savage review is hemlock +to a sucking author; and the one on me (which produced the +<i>English Bards</i>, etc.) knocked me down, but I got up again," +etc.</blockquote> + +It must, however, be remembered that Byron had his weapons ready +for an attack before he used them in defence. In a letter to Miss +Pigot, dated October 26, 1807, he says that "he has written one +poem of 380 lines to be published in a few weeks with notes. The +poem ... is a Satire." It was entitled <i>British Bards</i>, and +finally numbered 520 lines. With a view to publication, or for +his own convenience, it was put up in type and printed in quarto +sheets. A single copy, which he kept for corrections and +additions, was preserved by Dallas, and is now in the British +Museum. After the review appeared, he enlarged and recast the +<i>British Bards</i>, and in March, 1809, the Satire was +published anonymously. Byron was at no pains to conceal the +authorship of <i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>, and, +before starting on his Pilgrimage, he had prepared a second and +enlarged edition, which came out in October, 1809, with his name +prefixed. Two more editions were called for in his absence, and +on his return he revised and printed a fifth, when he suddenly +resolved to suppress the work. On his homeward voyage he +expressed, in a letter to Dallas, June 28, 1811, his regret at +having written the Satire. A year later he became intimate, among +others, with Lord and Lady Holland, whom he had assailed on the +supposition that they were the instigators of the article in the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i>, and on being told by Rogers that they +wished the Satire to be withdrawn, he gave orders to his +publisher, Cawthorn, to burn the whole impression. A few copies +escaped the flames. One of two copies retained by Dallas, which +afterwards belonged to Murray, and is now in his grandson's +possession, was the foundation of the text of 1831, and of all +subsequent issues. Another copy which belonged to Dallas is +retained in the British Museum.<br> +<br> +Towards the close of the last century there had been an outburst +of satirical poems, written in the style of the <i>Dunciad</i> +and its offspring the <i>Rosciad</i>, Of these, Gifford's +<i>Baviad</i> and <i>Maviad</i>,.(1794-5), and T. J. Mathias' +<i>Pursuits of Literature</i> (1794-7), were the direct +progenitors of <i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>, The +<i>Rolliad</i> (1794), the <i>Children of Apollo</i> (circ. +1794), Canning's <i>New Morality</i> (1798), and Wolcot's coarse +but virile lampoons, must also be reckoned among Byron's earlier +models. The ministry of "All the Talents" gave rise to a fresh +batch of political <i>jeux d'esprits</i>, and in 1807, when Byron +was still at Cambridge, the air was full of these ephemera. To +name only a few, <i>All the Talents</i>, by Polypus (Eaton +Stannard Barrett), was answered by <i>All the Blocks, an antidote +to All the Talents</i>, by Flagellum (W. H. Ireland); <i>Elijah's +Mantle, a tribute to the memory of the R. H. William Pitt</i>, by +James Sayer, the caricaturist, provoked <i>Melville's Mantle, +being a Parody on ... Elijah's Mantle</i>. <i>The Simpliciad, A +Satirico-Didactic Poem</i>, and Lady Anne Hamilton's <i>Epics of +the Ton</i>, are also of the same period. One and all have +perished, but Byron read them, and in a greater or less degree +they supplied the impulse to write in the fashion of the day.<br> +<br> +<i>British Bards</i> would have lived, but, unquestionably, the +spur of the article, a year's delay, and, above all, the advice +and criticism of his friend Hodgson, who was at work on his +<i>Gentle Alterative for the Reviewers</i>, 1809 (for further +details, see vol. i., <i>Letters</i>, Letter 102, <i>note</i> 1), +produced the brilliant success of the enlarged satire. <i>English +Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i> was recognized at once as a work +of genius. It has intercepted the popularity of its great +predecessors, who are often quoted, but seldom read. It is still +a popular poem, and appeals with fresh delight to readers who +know the names of many of the "bards" only because Byron mentions +them, and count others whom he ridicules among the greatest poets +of the century.<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section114c"></a>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers<a +href="#f486"><span style= +"font-size: 70%;"><sup>1</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<table summary="EBSR" border="0" cellspacing="0" cellpadding= +"10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%">Still<a href="#f487"><sup>2</sup></a> must I +hear?--shall hoarse<a href="#f488"><sup>3</sup></a> +<b>Fitzgerald</b> bawl<br> +His creaking couplets in a tavern hall,<br> +<a name="fr487">And</a> I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch +Reviews<br> +<a name="fr488">Should</a> dub me scribbler, and denounce my +<i>Muse</i>?<br> +<a name="fr489">Prepare</a> for rhyme--I'll publish, right or +wrong:<br> +Fools are my theme, let Satire be my song<a href= +"#f489"><sup>a</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Oh! Nature's noblest gift--my grey goose-quill!<br> +Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will,<br> +Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen,<br> +That mighty instrument of little men!<br> +The pen! foredoomed to aid the mental throes<br> +Of brains that labour, big with Verse or Prose;<br> +Though Nymphs forsake, and Critics may deride,<br> +The Lover's solace, and the Author's pride.<br> +What Wits! what Poets dost thou daily raise!<br> +How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise!<br> +Condemned at length to be forgotten quite,<br> +With all the pages which 'twas thine to write.<br> +But thou, at least, mine own especial pen<a href= +"#f490"><sup>b</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr490">Once</a> laid aside, but now assumed again,<br> +Our task complete, like Hamet's<a href="#f491"><sup>4</sup></a> +shall be free;<br> +<a name="fr491">Though</a> spurned by others, yet beloved by +me:<br> +Then let us soar to-day; no common theme,<br> +No Eastern vision, no distempered dream<a href= +"#f492"><sup>5</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr492">Inspires</a>--our path, though full of thorns, is +plain;<br> +Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.<br> +<br> + When Vice triumphant holds her sov'reign sway,<br> +Obey'd by all who nought beside obey<a href= +"#f493"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr493">When</a> Folly, frequent harbinger of crime,<br> +Bedecks her cap with bells of every Clime<a href= +"#f494"><sup>d</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr494">When</a> knaves and fools combined o'er all +prevail,<br> +And weigh their Justice in a Golden Scale<a href= +"#f495"><sup>e</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr495">E'en</a> then the boldest start from public +sneers,<br> +Afraid of Shame, unknown to other fears,<br> +More darkly sin, by Satire kept in awe,<br> +And shrink from Ridicule, though not from Law.<br> +<br> + Such is the force of Wit! I but not belong<br> +To me the arrows of satiric song;<br> +The royal vices of our age demand<br> +A keener weapon, and a mightier hand<a href= +"#f496"><sup>f</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr496">Still</a> there are follies, e'en for me to +chase,<br> +And yield at least amusement in the race:<br> +Laugh when I laugh, I seek no other fame,<br> +The cry is up, and scribblers are my game:<br> +Speed, Pegasus!--ye strains of great and small,<br> +Ode! Epic! Elegy!--have at you all!<br> +I, too, can scrawl, and once upon a time<br> +I poured along the town a flood of rhyme,<br> +A schoolboy freak, unworthy praise or blame;<br> +I printed--older children do the same.<br> +'Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;<br> +A Book's a Book, altho' there's nothing in't.<br> +Not that a Title's sounding charm can save<a href= +"#f497"><sup>g</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr497">Or</a> scrawl or scribbler from an equal +grave:<br> +This <b>Lamb</b><a href="#f498"><sup>6</sup></a> must own, since +his patrician name<br> +<a name="fr498">Failed</a> to preserve the spurious Farce from +shame<a href="#f499"><sup>7</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr499">No</a> matter, <b>George</b> continues still to +write<a href="#f500"><sup>8</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr500">Tho</a>' now the name is veiled from public +sight.<br> +Moved by the great example, I pursue<br> +The self-same road, but make my own review:<br> +Not seek great <b>Jeffrey's</b>, yet like him will be<br> +Self-constituted Judge of Poesy.<br> +<br> + A man must serve his time to every trade<br> +Save Censure--Critics all are ready made.<br> +Take hackneyed jokes from <b>Miller</b><a href= +"#f501"><sup>9</sup></a>, got by rote,<br> +<a name="fr501">With</a> just enough of learning to misquote;<br> +A man well skilled to find, or forge a fault;<br> +A turn for punning--call it Attic salt;<br> +To <b>Jeffrey</b> go, be silent and discreet,<br> +His pay is just ten sterling pounds per sheet:<br> +Fear not to lie,'twill seem a <i>sharper</i> hit<a href= +"#f502"><sup>h</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr502">Shrink</a> not from blasphemy, 'twill pass for +wit;<br> +Care not for feeling--pass your proper jest,<br> +And stand a Critic, hated yet caress'd.<br> +<br> + And shall we own such judgment? no--as soon<br> +Seek roses in December--ice in June;<br> +Hope constancy in wind, or corn in chaff,<br> +Believe a woman or an epitaph,<br> +Or any other thing that's false, before<br> +You trust in Critics, who themselves are sore;<br> +Or yield one single thought to be misled<br> +By <b>Jeffrey's</b> heart, or <b>Lamb's</b> Boeotian head<a href= +"#f503"><sup>10</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr503">To</a> these young tyrants, by themselves +misplaced,<br> +Combined usurpers on the Throne of Taste;<br> +To these, when Authors bend in humble awe,<br> +And hail their voice as Truth, their word as Law;<br> +While these are Censors, 'twould be sin to spare<a href= +"#f504"><sup>11</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr504">While</a> such are Critics, why should I +forbear?<br> +But yet, so near all modern worthies run,<br> +'Tis doubtful whom to seek, or whom to shun;<br> +Nor know we when to spare, or where to strike,<br> +<a name="fr505">Our</a> Bards and Censors are so much alike.<br> +Then should you ask me<a href="#f505"><sup>12</sup></a>, why I +venture o'er<br> +The path which <b>Pope</b> and <b>Gifford</b><a href= +"#f506"><sup>13</sup></a> trod before;<br> +<a name="fr506">If</a> not yet sickened, you can still +proceed;<br> +Go on; my rhyme will tell you as you read.<br> +"But hold!" exclaims a friend,--"here's some neglect:<br> +This--that--and t'other line seem incorrect."<br> +What then? the self-same blunder Pope has got,<br> +And careless Dryden--"Aye, but Pye has not:"--<br> +<a name="fr507">Indeed</a>!--'tis granted, faith!--but what care +I?<br> +Better to err with <b>Pope</b>, than shine with <b>Pye</b><a +href="#f507"><sup>14</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Time was, ere yet in these degenerate days<a href= +"#f508"><sup>15</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr508">Ignoble</a> themes obtained mistaken praise,<br> +When Sense and Wit with Poesy allied,<br> +No fabled Graces, flourished side by side,<br> +From the same fount their inspiration drew,<br> +And, reared by Taste, bloomed fairer as they grew.<br> +Then, in this happy Isle, a <b>Pope's</b> pure strain<br> +Sought the rapt soul to charm, nor sought in vain;<br> +A polished nation's praise aspired to claim,<br> +And raised the people's, as the poet's fame.<br> +Like him great <b>Dryden</b> poured the tide of song,<br> +In stream less smooth, indeed, yet doubly strong.<br> +Then <b>Congreve's</b> scenes could cheer, or <b>Otway's</b> +melt<a href="#f509"><sup>16</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr509">For</a> Nature then an English audience +felt--<br> +But why these names, or greater still, retrace,<br> +When all to feebler Bards resign their place?<br> +Yet to such times our lingering looks are cast,<br> +When taste and reason with those times are past.<br> +Now look around, and turn each trifling page,<br> +Survey the precious works that please the age;<br> +<a name="fr510">This</a> truth at least let Satire's self +allow,<br> +No dearth of Bards can be complained of now<a href= +"#f510"><sup>i</sup></a>.<br> +The loaded Press beneath her labour groans<a href= +"#f511"><sup>j</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr511">And</a> Printers' devils shake their weary +bones;<br> +While <b>Southey's</b> Epics cram the creaking shelves<a href= +"#f512"><sup>k</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr512">And</a> <b>Little's</b> Lyrics shine in +hot-pressed twelves<a href="#f513"><sup>17</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr513">Thus</a> saith the <i>Preacher</i>: "Nought +beneath the sun<br> +Is new,"<a href="#f514"><sup>18</sup></a> yet still from change +to change we run.<br> +<a name="fr514">What</a> varied wonders tempt us as they +pass!<br> +The Cow-pox, Tractors, Galvanism, and Gas<a href= +"#f515"><sup>19</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr515">In</a> turns appear, to make the vulgar +stare,<br> +Till the swoln bubble bursts--and all is air!<br> +Nor less new schools of Poetry arise,<br> +Where dull pretenders grapple for the prize:<br> +O'er Taste awhile these Pseudo-bards prevail<a href= +"#f516"><sup>m</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr516">Each</a> country Book-club bows the knee to +Baal,<br> +And, hurling lawful Genius from the throne,<br> +Erects a shrine and idol of its own<a href= +"#f517"><sup>n</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr517">Some</a> leaden calf--but whom it matters +not,<br> +From soaring <b>Southey</b>, down to groveling <b>Stott</b><a +href="#f518"><sup>20</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr518">Behold</a>! in various throngs the scribbling +crew,<br> +For notice eager, pass in long review:<br> +Each spurs his jaded Pegasus apace,<br> +And Rhyme and Blank maintain an equal race;<br> +Sonnets on sonnets crowd, and ode on ode;<br> +And Tales of Terror<a href="#f519"><sup>21</sup></a> jostle on +the road;<br> +<a name="fr519">Immeasurable</a> measures move along;<br> +For simpering Folly loves a varied song,<br> +To strange, mysterious Dulness still the friend,<br> +Admires the strain she cannot comprehend.<br> +Thus Lays of Minstrels<a href="#f520"><sup>22</sup></a>--may they +be the last!--<br> +<a name="fr520">On</a> half-strung harps whine mournful to the +blast.<br> +While mountain spirits prate to river sprites,<br> +That dames may listen to the sound at nights;<br> +And goblin brats, of Gilpin Horner's<a href= +"#f521"><sup>23</sup></a> brood<br> +<a name="fr521">Decoy</a> young Border-nobles through the +wood,<br> +And skip at every step, Lord knows how high,<br> +And frighten foolish babes, the Lord knows why;<br> +While high-born ladies in their magic cell,<br> +Forbidding Knights to read who cannot spell,<br> +Despatch a courier to a wizard's grave,<br> +And fight with honest men to shield a knave.<br> +<br> + Next view in state, proud prancing on his roan,<br> +The golden-crested haughty Marmion,<br> +Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight,<br> +Not quite a Felon, yet but half a Knight<a href= +"#f522"><sup>o</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr522">The</a> gibbet or the field prepared to +grace;<br> +A mighty mixture of the great and base.<br> +And think'st thou, <b>Scott</b>! by vain conceit perchance,<br> +On public taste to foist thy stale romance,<br> +Though <b>Murray</b> with his <b>Miller</b> may combine<br> +To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line<a href= +"#f523"><sup>24</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr523">No</a>! when the sons of song descend to +trade,<br> +Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade,<br> +Let such forego the poet's sacred name,<br> +Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame:<br> +Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain<a href= +"#f524"><sup>25</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr524">And</a> sadly gaze on Gold they cannot gain!<br> +Such be their meed, such still the just reward<a href= +"#f525"><sup>p</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr525">Of</a> prostituted Muse and hireling bard!<br> +For this we spurn Apollo's venal son,<br> +And bid a long "good night to Marmion."<a href= +"#f526"><sup>26</sup></a><br> +<br> + <a name="fr526">These</a> are the themes that claim our plaudits +now;<br> +These are the Bards to whom the Muse must bow;<br> +While <b>Milton</b>, <b>Dryden</b>, <b>Pope</b>, alike +forgot,<br> +Resign their hallowed Bays to <b>Walter Scott</b>.<br> +<br> + The time has been, when yet the Muse was young,<br> +When <b>Homer</b> swept the lyre, and <b>Maro</b> sung,<br> +An Epic scarce ten centuries could claim,<br> +While awe-struck nations hailed the magic name:<br> +The work of each immortal Bard appears<br> +The single wonder of a thousand years<a href= +"#f527"><sup>27</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr527">Empires</a> have mouldered from the face of +earth,<br> +Tongues have expired with those who gave them birth,<br> +Without the glory such a strain can give,<br> +As even in ruin bids the language live.<br> +Not so with us, though minor Bards, content<a href= +"#f528"><sup>q</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr528">On</a> one great work a life of labour spent:<br> +With eagle pinion soaring to the skies,<br> +Behold the Ballad-monger <b>Southey</b> rise!<br> +To him let <b>Camoëns</b>, <b>Milton</b>, <b>Tasso</b> +yield,<br> +Whose annual strains, like armies, take the field.<br> +First in the ranks see Joan of Arc advance,<br> +The scourge of England and the boast of France!<br> +Though burnt by wicked <b>Bedford</b> for a witch,<br> +Behold her statue placed in Glory's niche;<br> +Her fetters burst, and just released from prison,<br> +A virgin Phoenix from her ashes risen.<br> +Next see tremendous Thalaba come on<a href= +"#f529"><sup>28</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr529">Arabia's</a> monstrous, wild, and wond'rous +son;<br> +Domdaniel's dread destroyer, who o'erthrew<br> +More mad magicians than the world e'er knew.<br> +Immortal Hero! all thy foes o'ercome,<br> +For ever reign--the rival of Tom Thumb<a href= +"#f530"><sup>29</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr530">Since</a> startled Metre fled before thy +face,<br> +Well wert thou doomed the last of all thy race!<br> +Well might triumphant Genii bear thee hence,<br> +Illustrious conqueror of common sense!<br> +Now, last and greatest, Madoc spreads his sails,<br> +Cacique in Mexico<a href="#f531"><sup>30</sup></a>, and Prince in +Wales;<br> +<a name="fr531">Tells</a> us strange tales, as other travellers +do,<br> +More old than Mandeville's, and not so true.<br> +Oh, <b>Southey</b>! <b>Southey</b><a href= +"#f532"><sup>31</sup></a>! cease thy varied song!<br> +<a name="fr532">A</a> bard may chaunt too often and too long:<br> +As thou art strong in verse, in mercy, spare!<br> +A fourth, alas! were more than we could bear.<br> +But if, in spite of all the world can say,<br> +Thou still wilt verseward plod thy weary way;<br> +If still in Berkeley-Ballads most uncivil,<br> +Thou wilt devote old women to the devil<a href= +"#f533"><sup>32</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr533">The</a> babe unborn thy dread intent may rue:<br> +"God help thee," <b>Southey</b><a href="#f534"><sup>33</sup></a>, +and thy readers too.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr534">Next</a> comes the dull disciple of thy school<a +href="#f535"><sup>34</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr535">That</a> mild apostate from poetic rule,<br> +The simple <b>Wordsworth</b>, framer of a lay<br> +As soft as evening in his favourite May,<br> +Who warns his friend "to shake off toil and trouble,<br> +And quit his books, for fear of growing double;"<a href= +"#f536"><sup>35</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr536">Who</a>, both by precept and example, shows<br> +That prose is verse, and verse is merely prose;<br> +Convincing all, by demonstration plain,<br> +Poetic souls delight in prose insane;<br> +And Christmas stories tortured into rhyme<br> +Contain the essence of the true sublime.<br> +Thus, when he tells the tale of Betty Foy,<br> +The idiot mother of "an idiot Boy;"<br> +A moon-struck, silly lad, who lost his way,<br> +And, like his bard, confounded night with day<a href= +"#f537"><sup>36</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr537">So</a> close on each pathetic part he dwells,<br> +And each adventure so sublimely tells,<br> +That all who view the "idiot in his glory"<br> +Conceive the Bard the hero of the story.<br> +<br> + Shall gentle <b>Coleridge</b> pass unnoticed here<a href= +"#f538"><sup>37</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr538">To</a> turgid ode and tumid stanza dear?<br> +Though themes of innocence amuse him best,<br> +Yet still Obscurity's a welcome guest.<br> +If Inspiration should her aid refuse<br> +To him who takes a Pixy for a muse<a href= +"#f539"><sup>38</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr539">Yet</a> none in lofty numbers can surpass<br> +<a name="fr540">The</a> bard who soars to elegize an ass:<br> +So well the subject suits his noble mind<a href= +"#f540"><sup>r</sup></a>,<br> +He brays, the Laureate of the long-eared kind<a href= +"#f541"><sup>s</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr541">Oh</a>! wonder-working <b>Lewis</b><a href= +"#f542"><sup>39</sup></a>! Monk, or Bard,<br> +<a name="fr542">Who</a> fain would make Parnassus a church-yard<a +href="#f543"><sup>t</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr543">Lo</a>! wreaths of yew, not laurel, bind thy +brow,<br> +Thy Muse a Sprite, Apollo's sexton thou!<br> +Whether on ancient tombs thou tak'st thy stand,<br> +By gibb'ring spectres hailed, thy kindred band;<br> +Or tracest chaste descriptions on thy page,<br> +To please the females of our modest age;<br> +All hail, M.P.<a href="#f544"><sup>40</sup></a>! from whose +infernal brain<br> +<a name="fr544">Thin-sheeted</a> phantoms glide, a grisly +train;<br> +At whose command "grim women" throng in crowds,<br> +And kings of fire, of water, and of clouds,<br> +With "small grey men,"--"wild yagers," and what not,<br> +To crown with honour thee and <b>Walter Scott</b>:<br> +Again, all hail! if tales like thine may please,<br> +St. Luke alone can vanquish the disease:<br> +Even Satan's self with thee might dread to dwell,<br> +And in thy skull discern a deeper Hell.<br> +<br> + Who in soft guise, surrounded by a choir<br> +Of virgins melting, not to Vesta's fire,<br> +With sparkling eyes, and cheek by passion flushed<br> +Strikes his wild lyre, whilst listening dames are hushed?<br> +'Tis <b>Little</b>! young Catullus of his day,<br> +As sweet, but as immoral, in his Lay!<br> +Grieved to condemn, the Muse must still be just,<br> +Nor spare melodious advocates of lust.<br> +Pure is the flame which o'er her altar burns;<br> +From grosser incense with disgust she turns<br> +Yet kind to youth, this expiation o'er,<br> +She bids thee "mend thy line, and sin no more."<a href= +"#f545"><sup>u</sup></a><br> +<br> + <a name="fr545">For</a> thee, translator of the tinsel song,<br> +To whom such glittering ornaments belong,<br> +Hibernian <b>Strangford</b>! with thine eyes of blue<a href= +"#f546"><sup>41</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr546">And</a> boasted locks of red or auburn hue,<br> +Whose plaintive strain each love-sick Miss admires,<br> +And o'er harmonious fustian half expires<a href= +"#f547"><sup>v</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr547">Learn</a>, if thou canst, to yield thine author's +sense,<br> +Nor vend thy sonnets on a false pretence.<br> +Think'st thou to gain thy verse a higher place,<br> +By dressing Camoëns<a href="#f548"><sup>42</sup></a> in a +suit of lace?<br> +<a name="fr548">Mend</a>, <b>Strangford</b>! mend thy morals and +thy taste;<br> +Be warm, but pure; be amorous, but be chaste:<br> +Cease to deceive; thy pilfered harp restore,<br> +<a name="fr549">Nor</a> teach the Lusian Bard to copy +<b>Moore</b>.<br> +<br> + Behold--Ye Tarts!--one moment spare the text<a href= +"#f549"><sup>w</sup></a>!--<br> +<b>Hayley's</b> last work, and worst--until his next;<br> +Whether he spin poor couplets into plays,<br> +Or damn the dead with purgatorial praise<a href= +"#f550"><sup>43</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr550">His</a> style in youth or age is still the +same,<br> +For ever feeble and for ever tame.<br> +Triumphant first see "Temper's Triumphs" shine!<br> +At least I'm sure they triumphed over mine.<br> +<a name="fr551">Of</a> "Music's Triumphs," all who read may +swear<br> +That luckless Music never triumph'd there<a href= +"#f551"><sup>44</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Moravians, rise! bestow some meet reward<a href= +"#f552"><sup>45</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr552">On</a> dull devotion--Lo! the Sabbath Bard,<br> +Sepulchral <b>Grahame</b><a href="#f553"><sup>46</sup></a>, pours +his notes sublime<br> +<a name="fr553">In</a> mangled prose, nor e'en aspires to +rhyme;<br> +Breaks into blank the Gospel of St. Luke<a href= +"#f554"><sup>x</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr554">And</a> boldly pilfers from the Pentateuch;<br> +And, undisturbed by conscientious qualms,<br> +Perverts the Prophets, and purloins the Psalms.<br> +<br> + Hail, Sympathy! thy soft idea brings"<a href= +"#f555"><sup>y</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr555">A</a> thousand visions of a thousand things,<br> +And shows, still whimpering thro' threescore of years<a href= +"#f556"><sup>z</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr556">The</a> maudlin prince of mournful +sonneteers.<br> +And art thou not their prince, harmonious Bowles<a href= +"#f557"><sup>47</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr557">Thou</a> first, great oracle of tender souls?<br> +Whether them sing'st with equal ease, and grief<a href= +"#f558"><sup>A</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr558">The</a> fall of empires, or a yellow leaf;<br> +Whether thy muse most lamentably tells<br> +What merry sounds proceed from Oxford bells<a href= +"#f559"><sup>B</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr559">Or</a>, still in bells delighting, finds a +friend<br> +In every chime that jingled from Ostend;<br> +Ah! how much juster were thy Muse's hap,<br> +If to thy bells thou would'st but add a cap<a href= +"#f560"><sup>C</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr560">Delightful</a> <b>Bowles</b>! still blessing and +still blest,<br> +All love thy strain, but children like it best.<br> +'Tis thine, with gentle <b>Little's</b> moral song,<br> +To soothe the mania of the amorous throng!<br> +With thee our nursery damsels shed their tears,<br> +Ere Miss as yet completes her infant years:<br> +But in her teens thy whining powers are vain;<br> +She quits poor <b>Bowles</b> for <b>Little's</b> purer +strain.<br> +Now to soft themes thou scornest to confine<a href= +"#f561"><sup>D</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr561">The</a> lofty numbers of a harp like thine;<br> +"Awake a louder and a loftier strain,"<a href= +"#f562"><sup>48</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr562">Such</a> as none heard before, or will again!<br> +Where all discoveries jumbled from the flood,<br> +Since first the leaky ark reposed in mud,<br> +By more or less, are sung in every book,<br> +From Captain Noah down to Captain Cook.<br> +<a name="fr563">Nor</a> this alone--but, pausing on the road,<br> +The Bard sighs forth a gentle episode<a href= +"#f563"><sup>49</sup></a> <a href="#f564"><sup>E</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr564">And</a> gravely tells--attend, each beauteous +Miss!--<br> +When first Madeira trembled to a kiss.<br> +Bowles! in thy memory let this precept dwell,<br> +Stick to thy Sonnets, Man!--at least they sell.<br> +But if some new-born whim, or larger bribe,<br> +Prompt thy crude brain, and claim thee for a scribe:<br> +If 'chance some bard, though once by dunces feared,<br> +Now, prone in dust, can only be revered;<br> +If Pope, whose fame and genius, from the first<a href= +"#f565"><sup>F</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr565">Have</a> foiled the best of critics, needs the +worst,<br> +Do thou essay: each fault, each failing scan;<br> +The first of poets was, alas! but man.<br> +Rake from each ancient dunghill ev'ry pearl,<br> +Consult Lord Fanny, and confide in <b>Curll</b><a href= +"#f566"><sup>50</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr566">Let</a> all the scandals of a former age<br> +Perch on thy pen, and flutter o'er thy page;<br> +Affect a candour which thou canst not feel,<br> +Clothe envy in a garb of honest zeal;<br> +Write, as if St. John's soul could still inspire,<br> +And do from hate what <b>Mallet</b><a href= +"#f567"><sup>51</sup></a> did for hire.<br> +<a name="fr567">Oh</a>! hadst thou lived in that congenial +time,<br> +To rave with <b>Dennis</b>, and with <b>Ralph</b> to rhyme<a +href="#f568"><sup>52</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr568">Thronged</a> with the rest around his living +head,<br> +Not raised thy hoof against the lion dead,<br> +A meet reward had crowned thy glorious gains,<br> +And linked thee to the Dunciad for thy pains<a href= +"#f569"><sup>53</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr569">Another</a> Epic! Who inflicts again<br> +More books of blank upon the sons of men?<br> +Boeotian <b>Cottle</b>, rich Bristowa's boast,<br> +Imports old stories from the Cambrian coast,<br> +And sends his goods to market--all alive!<br> +Lines forty thousand, Cantos twenty-five!<br> +Fresh fish from Hippocrene<a href="#f570"><sup>54</sup></a>! +who'll buy? who'll buy?<br> +<a name="fr570">The</a> precious bargain's cheap--in faith, not +I.<br> +Your turtle-feeder's verse must needs be flat<a href= +"#f571"><sup>G</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr571">Though</a> Bristol bloat him with the verdant +fat;<br> +If Commerce fills the purse, she clogs the brain,<br> +And <b>Amos Cottle</b> strikes the Lyre in vain.<br> +In him an author's luckless lot behold!<br> +Condemned to make the books which once he sold.<br> +Oh, <b>Amos Cottle</b>!--Phoebus! what a name<br> +To fill the speaking-trump of future fame!--<br> +Oh, <b>Amos Cottle</b>! for a moment think<br> +What meagre profits spring from pen and ink!<br> +When thus devoted to poetic dreams,<br> +Who will peruse thy prostituted reams?<br> +Oh! pen perverted! paper misapplied!<br> +Had <b>Cottle</b><a href="#f572"><sup>55</sup></a> still adorned +the counter's side,<br> +<a name="fr572">Bent</a> o'er the desk, or, born to useful +toils,<br> +Been taught to make the paper which he soils,<br> +Ploughed, delved, or plied the oar with lusty limb,<br> +He had not sung of Wales, nor I of him.<br> +<br> + As Sisyphus against the infernal steep<br> +Rolls the huge rock whose motions ne'er may sleep,<br> +So up thy hill, ambrosial Richmond! heaves<br> +Dull <b>Maurice</b><a href="#f573"><sup>56</sup></a> all his +granite weight of leaves:<br> +<a name="fr573">Smooth</a>, solid monuments of mental pain!<br> +The petrifactions of a plodding brain,<br> +That, ere they reach the top, fall lumbering back again.<br> +<br> + <a name="c1">With</a> broken lyre and cheek serenely pale,<br> +Lo! sad Alcæus wanders down the vale;<br> +Though fair they rose, and might have bloomed at last,<br> +His hopes have perished by the northern blast:<br> +Nipped in the bud by Caledonian gales,<br> +His blossoms wither as the blast prevails!<br> +O'er his lost works let <i>classic</i> <b>Sheffield</b> weep;<br> +May no rude hand disturb their early sleep<a href= +"#f574"><sup>57</sup></a>!<br> +<br> + <a name="fr574">Yet</a> say! why should the Bard, at once, +resign<a href="#f575"><sup>H</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr575">His</a> claim to favour from the sacred Nine?<br> +For ever startled by the mingled howl<br> +Of Northern Wolves, that still in darkness prowl;<br> +A coward Brood, which mangle as they prey,<br> +By hellish instinct, all that cross their way;<br> +Aged or young, the living or the dead,"<a href= +"#f576"><sup>J</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr576">No</a> mercy find-these harpies must be fed.<br> +Why do the injured unresisting yield<br> +The calm possession of their native field?<br> +<a name="fr577">Why</a> tamely thus before their fangs +retreat,<br> +Nor hunt the blood-hounds back to Arthur's Seat<a href= +"#f577"><sup>58</sup></a>?<br> +<br> + Health to immortal <b>Jeffrey</b>! once, in name,<br> +England could boast a judge almost the same<a href= +"#f578"><sup>59</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr578">In</a> soul so like, so merciful, yet just,<br> +Some think that Satan has resigned his trust,<br> +And given the Spirit to the world again,<br> +To sentence Letters, as he sentenced men.<br> +With hand less mighty, but with heart as black,<br> +With voice as willing to decree the rack;<br> +Bred in the Courts betimes, though all that law<br> +As yet hath taught him is to find a flaw,--<br> +Since well instructed in the patriot school<br> +To rail at party, though a party tool--<br> +Who knows? if chance his patrons should restore<br> +Back to the sway they forfeited before,<br> +His scribbling toils some recompense may meet,<br> +And raise this Daniel to the Judgment-Seat<a href= +"#f579"><sup>60</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr579">Let</a> <b>Jeffrey's</b> shade indulge the pious +hope,<br> +And greeting thus, present him with a rope:<br> +"Heir to my virtues! man of equal mind!<br> +Skilled to condemn as to traduce mankind,<br> +This cord receive! for thee reserved with care,<br> +To wield in judgment, and at length to wear."<br> +<br> + Health to great <b>Jeffrey</b>! Heaven preserve his life,<br> +To flourish on the fertile shores of Fife,<br> +And guard it sacred in its future wars,<br> +<a name="fr580">Since</a> authors sometimes seek the field of +Mars!<br> +Can none remember that eventful day<a href= +"#f580"><sup>61</sup></a> <a href="#f581"><sup>K</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr581">That</a> ever-glorious, almost fatal fray,<br> +When <b>Little's</b> leadless pistol met his eye<a href= +"#f582"><sup>62</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr582">And</a> Bow-street Myrmidons stood laughing +by?<br> +Oh, day disastrous! on her firm-set rock,<br> +Dunedin's castle felt a secret shock;<br> +Dark rolled the sympathetic waves of Forth,<br> +Low groaned the startled whirlwinds of the north;<br> +<b>Tweed</b> ruffled half his waves to form a tear,<br> +The other half pursued his calm career<a href= +"#f583"><sup>63</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr583"><b>Arthur's</b></a> steep summit nodded to its +base,<br> +The surly Tolbooth scarcely kept her place.<br> +The Tolbooth felt--for marble sometimes can,<br> +On such occasions, feel as much as man--<br> +The Tolbooth felt defrauded of his charms,<br> +If <b>Jeffrey</b> died, except within her arms<a href= +"#f584"><sup>64</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr584">Nay</a> last, not least, on that portentous +morn,<br> +The sixteenth story, where himself was born,<br> +His patrimonial garret, fell to ground,<br> +And pale Edina shuddered at the sound:<br> +Strewed were the streets around with milk-white reams,<br> +Flowed all the Canongate with inky streams;<br> +This of his candour seemed the sable dew,<br> +That of his valour showed the bloodless hue;<br> +And all with justice deemed the two combined<br> +The mingled emblems of his mighty mind.<br> +But Caledonia's goddess hovered o'er<br> +The field, and saved him from the wrath of Moore;<br> +From either pistol snatched the vengeful lead,<br> +And straight restored it to her favourite's head;<br> +That head, with greater than magnetic power,<br> +Caught it, as Danäe caught the golden shower,<br> +And, though the thickening dross will scarce refine,<br> +Augments its ore, and is itself a mine.<br> +"My son," she cried, "ne'er thirst for gore again,<br> +Resign the pistol and resume the pen;<br> +O'er politics and poesy preside,<br> +Boast of thy country, and Britannia's guide!<br> +For long as Albion's heedless sons submit,<br> +Or Scottish taste decides on English wit,<br> +So long shall last thine unmolested reign,<br> +Nor any dare to take thy name in vain.<br> +Behold, a chosen band shall aid thy plan,<br> +<a name="fr585">And</a> own thee chieftain of the critic +clan.<br> +First in the oat-fed phalanx<a href="#f585"><sup>65</sup></a> +shall be seen<br> +The travelled Thane, Athenian Aberdeen<a href= +"#f586"><sup>66</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr586"><b>Herbert</b></a> shall wield <b>Thor's</b> +hammer<a href="#f587"><sup>67</sup></a>, and sometimes<br> +<a name="fr587">In</a> gratitude, thou'lt praise his rugged +rhymes.<br> +Smug <b>Sydney</b><a href="#f588"><sup>68</sup></a> too thy +bitter page shall seek,<br> +<a name="fr588">And</a> classic <b>Hallam</b><a href= +"#f589"><sup>69</sup></a>, much renowned for Greek;<br> +<a name="fr589"><b>Scott</b></a> may perchance his name and +influence lend,<br> +And paltry <b>Pillans</b><a href="#f590"><sup>70</sup></a> shall +traduce his friend;<br> +<a name="fr590">While</a> gay Thalia's luckless votary, +<b>Lamb</b><a href="#f591"><sup>71</sup></a> <a href= +"#f592"><sup>M</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr591">Damned</a> like the Devil--Devil-like will +damn.<br> +<a name="fr592">Known</a> be thy name! unbounded be thy sway!<br> +Thy <b>Holland's</b> banquets shall each toil repay!<br> +While grateful Britain yields the praise she owes<br> +To <b>Holland's</b> hirelings and to Learning's foes.<br> +Yet mark one caution ere thy next Review<br> +Spread its light wings of Saffron and of Blue,<br> +Beware lest blundering <b>Brougham</b><a href= +"#f593"><sup>72</sup></a> destroy the sale,<br> +<a name="fr593">Turn</a> Beef to Bannocks, Cauliflowers to +Kail."<br> +<a name="fr594">Thus</a> having said, the kilted Goddess kist<br> +Her son, and vanished in a Scottish mist<a href= +"#f594"><sup>73</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Then prosper, <b>Jeffrey</b>! pertest of the train<a href= +"#f595"><sup>74</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr595">Whom</a> Scotland pampers with her fiery +grain!<br> +Whatever blessing waits a genuine Scot,<br> +In double portion swells thy glorious lot;<br> +For thee Edina culls her evening sweets,<br> +And showers their odours on thy candid sheets,<br> +Whose Hue and Fragrance to thy work adhere--<br> +This scents its pages, and that gilds its rear<a href= +"#f596"><sup>75</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr596">Lo</a>! blushing Itch, coy nymph, enamoured +grown,<br> +Forsakes the rest, and cleaves to thee alone,<br> +And, too unjust to other Pictish men,<br> +Enjoys thy person, and inspires thy pen!<br> +<br> + Illustrious <b>Holland</b>! hard would be his lot,<br> +His hirelings mentioned, and himself forgot<a href= +"#f597"><sup>76</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr597"><b>Holland</b></a>, with <b>Henry Petty</b><a +href="#f598"><sup>77</sup></a> at his back,<br> +<a name="fr598">The</a> whipper-in and huntsman of the pack.<br> +Blest be the banquets spread at Holland House,<br> +Where Scotchmen feed, and Critics may carouse!<br> +Long, long beneath that hospitable roof<a href= +"#f599"><sup>N</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr599">Shall</a> Grub-street dine, while duns are kept +aloof.<br> +<a name="fr600">See</a> honest <b>Hallam</b><a href= +"#f600"><sup>78</sup></a> lay aside his fork,<br> +<a name="fr601">Resume</a> his pen, review his Lordship's +work,<br> +And, grateful for the dainties on his plate<a href= +"#f601"><sup>P</sup></a>,<br> +Declare his landlord can at least translate<a href= +"#f602"><sup>79</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr602">Dunedin</a>! view thy children with delight,<br> +They write for food--and feed because they write<a href= +"#f603"><sup>Q</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr603">And</a> lest, when heated with the unusual +grape,<br> +Some glowing thoughts should to the press escape,<br> +And tinge with red the female reader's cheek,<br> +My lady skims the cream of each critique;<br> +<a name="fr604">Breathes</a> o'er the page her purity of +soul,<br> +Reforms each error, and refines the whole<a href= +"#f604"><sup>80</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Now to the Drama turn--Oh! motley sight!<br> +<a name="fr605">What</a> precious scenes the wondering eyes +invite:<br> +Puns, and a Prince within a barrel pent<a href= +"#f605"><sup>81</sup></a> <a href="#f606"><sup>R</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr606">And</a> Dibdin's nonsense yield complete +content<a href="#f607"><sup>82</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr607">Though</a> now, thank Heaven! the Rosciomania's +o'er<a href="#f608"><sup>83</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr608">And</a> full-grown actors are endured once +more;<br> +Yet what avail their vain attempts to please,<br> +While British critics suffer scenes like these;<br> +<a name="fr609">While</a> <b>Reynolds</b> vents his +"<i>dammes!</i>" "poohs!" and "zounds!"<a href= +"#f609"><sup>84</sup></a> <a href="#f610"><sup>S</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr610">And</a> common-place and common sense +confounds?<br> +While <b>Kenney's</b><a href="#f611"><sup>85</sup></a> +"World"--ah! where is <b>Kenney's</b> wit<a href= +"#f612"><sup>T</sup></a>?--<br> +<a name="fr611">Tires</a> the sad gallery, lulls the listless +Pit;<br> +<a name="fr612">And</a> <b>Beaumont's</b> pilfered Caratach +affords<br> +A tragedy complete in all but words<a href= +"#f613"><sup>85a</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr613">Who</a> but must mourn, while these are all the +rage<br> +The degradation of our vaunted stage?<br> +Heavens! is all sense of shame and talent gone?<br> +<a name="fr614">Have</a> we no living Bard of merit?--none?<br> +Awake, <b>George Colman</b><a href="#f614"><sup>86</sup></a>! +<b>Cumberland</b>, awake<a href="#f615"><sup>87</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr615">Ring</a> the alarum bell! let folly quake!<br> +Oh! <b>Sheridan</b>! if aught can move thy pen,<br> +Let Comedy assume her throne again<a href= +"#f616"><sup>V</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr616">Abjure</a> the mummery of German schools;<br> +Leave new Pizarros to translating fools<a href= +"#f617"><sup>88</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr617">Give</a>, as thy last memorial to the age,<br> +One classic drama, and reform the stage.<br> +<a name="fr618">Gods</a>! o'er those boards shall Folly rear her +head,<br> +Where <b>Garrick</b> trod, and <b>Siddons</b> lives to tread<a +href="#f618"><sup>89</sup></a><a href= +"#f619"><sup>W</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr619">On</a> those shall Farce display buffoonery's +mask,<br> +And <b>Hook</b> conceal his heroes in a cask<a href= +"#f620"><sup>90</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr620">Shall</a> sapient managers new scenes produce<br> +<a name="fr621">From</a> <b>Cherry</b><a href= +"#f621"><sup>91</sup></a>, <b>Skeffington</b><a href= +"#f622"><sup>92</sup></a>, and Mother <b>Goose</b><a href= +"#f623"><sup>93</sup></a> <a href="#f624"><sup>X</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr622">While</a> <b>Shakespeare</b>, <b>Otway</b>, +<b>Massinger</b>, forgot,<br> +<a name="fr623">On</a> stalls must moulder, or in closets +rot?<br> +<a name="fr624">Lo</a>! with what pomp the daily prints +proclaim<br> +The rival candidates for Attic fame!<br> +In grim array though <b>Lewis</b>' spectres rise,<br> +Still <b>Skeffington</b> and <b>Goose</b> divide the prize.<br> +And sure <i>great</i> Skeffington must claim our praise,<br> +For skirtless coats and skeletons of plays<br> +<a name="fr625">Renowned</a> alike; whose genius ne'er +confines<br> +Her flight to garnish Greenwood's gay designs<a href= +"#f625"><sup>94</sup></a> <a href="#f626"><sup>Y</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr626">Nor</a> sleeps with "Sleeping Beauties," but +anon<br> +In five facetious acts comes thundering on.<br> +While poor John Bull, bewildered with the scene,<br> +Stares, wondering what the devil it can mean;<br> +But as some hands applaud, a venal few!<br> +Rather than sleep, why John applauds it too.<br> +<br> + Such are we now. Ah! wherefore should we turn<br> +To what our fathers were, unless to mourn?<br> +Degenerate Britons! are ye dead to shame,<br> +Or, kind to dulness, do you fear to blame?<br> +Well may the nobles of our present race<br> +Watch each distortion of a <b>Naldi's</b> face;<br> +<a name="fr627">Well</a> may they smile on Italy's buffoons,<br> +And worship <b>Catalani's</b> pantaloons<a href= +"#f627"><sup>95</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr628">Since</a> their own Drama yields no fairer +trace<br> +Of wit than puns, of humour than grimace<a href= +"#f628"><sup>96</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Then let Ausonia, skill'd in every art<br> +To soften manners, but corrupt the heart,<br> +Pour her exotic follies o'er the town,<br> +To sanction Vice, and hunt Decorum down:<br> +Let wedded strumpets languish o'er <b>Deshayes</b>,<br> +And bless the promise which his form displays;<br> +While Gayton bounds before th' enraptured looks<br> +Of hoary Marquises, and stripling Dukes:<br> +Let high-born lechers eye the lively Presle<br> +Twirl her light limbs, that spurn the needless veil;<br> +Let Angiolini bare her breast of snow,<br> +Wave the white arm, and point the pliant toe;<br> +Collini trill her love-inspiring song,<br> +Strain her fair neck, and charm the listening throng!<br> +Whet<a href="#f629"><sup>97</sup></a> not your scythe, +Suppressors of our Vice!<br> +<a name="fr629">Reforming</a> Saints! too delicately nice!<br> +By whose decrees, our sinful souls to save,<br> +No Sunday tankards foam, no barbers shave;<br> +And beer undrawn, and beards unmown, display<br> +Your holy reverence for the Sabbath-day.<br> +<br> + Or hail at once the patron and the pile<br> +Of vice and folly, Greville and Argyle<a href= +"#f630"><sup>98</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr630">Where</a> yon proud palace, Fashion's hallow'd +fane,<br> +<a name="fr631">Spreads</a> wide her portals for the motley +train,<br> +Behold the new Petronius<a href="#f631"><sup>99</sup></a> of the +day<a href="#f632"><sup>Z</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr632">Our</a> arbiter of pleasure and of play!<br> +There the hired eunuch, the Hesperian choir,<br> +The melting lute, the soft lascivious lyre,<br> +The song from Italy, the step from France,<br> +The midnight orgy, and the mazy dance,<br> +The smile of beauty, and the flush of wine,<br> +For fops, fools, gamesters, knaves, and Lords combine:<br> +Each to his humour--Comus all allows;<br> +Champaign, dice, music, or your neighbour's spouse.<br> +Talk not to us, ye starving sons of trade!<br> +Of piteous ruin, which ourselves have made;<br> +In Plenty's sunshine Fortune's minions bask,<br> +Nor think of Poverty, except "en masque,"<a href= +"#f633"><sup>100</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr633">When</a> for the night some lately titled ass<br> +Appears the beggar which his grandsire was,<br> +The curtain dropped, the gay Burletta o'er,<br> +The audience take their turn upon the floor:<br> +Now round the room the circling dow'gers sweep,<br> +Now in loose waltz the thin-clad daughters leap;<br> +The first in lengthened line majestic swim,<br> +The last display the free unfettered limb!<br> +Those for Hibernia's lusty sons repair<br> +With art the charms which Nature could not spare;<br> +These after husbands wing their eager flight,<br> +Nor leave much mystery for the nuptial night.<br> +<br> + Oh! blest retreats of infamy and ease,<br> +Where, all forgotten but the power to please,<br> +Each maid may give a loose to genial thought,<br> +Each swain may teach new systems, or be taught:<br> +There the blithe youngster, just returned from Spain,<br> +Cuts the light pack, or calls the rattling main;<br> +The jovial Caster's set, and seven's the Nick,<br> +Or--done!--a thousand on the coming trick!<br> +If, mad with loss, existence 'gins to tire,<br> +<a name="fr634">And</a> all your hope or wish is to expire,<br> +Here's <b>Powell's</b><a href="#f634"><sup>101</sup></a> pistol +ready for your life,<br> +And, kinder still, two <b>Pagets</b> for your wife<a href= +"#f635"><sup>Aa</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr635">Fit</a> consummation of an earthly race<br> +Begun in folly, ended in disgrace,<br> +While none but menials o'er the bed of death,<br> +Wash thy red wounds, or watch thy wavering breath;<br> +Traduced by liars, and forgot by all,<br> +<a name="fr636">The</a> mangled victim of a drunken brawl,<br> +To live like <b>Clodius</b><a href="#f636"><sup>102</sup></a>, +and like <b>Falkland</b> fall<a href= +"#f637"><sup>103</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr637">Truth</a>! rouse some genuine Bard, and guide +his hand<br> +To drive this pestilence from out the land.<br> +E'en I--least thinking of a thoughtless throng,<br> +Just skilled to know the right and choose the wrong,<br> +Freed at that age when Reason's shield is lost,<br> +To fight my course through Passion's countless host<a href= +"#f638"><sup>104</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr638">Whom</a> every path of Pleasure's flow'ry way<br> +Has lured in turn, and all have led astray--<br> +E'en I must raise my voice, e'en I must feel<br> +Such scenes, such men, destroy the public weal:<br> +Altho' some kind, censorious friend will say,<br> +"What art thou better, meddling fool<a href= +"#f639"><sup>105</sup></a>, than they?"<br> +<a name="fr639">And</a> every Brother Rake will smile to see<br> +That miracle, a Moralist in me.<br> +No matter--when some Bard in virtue strong,<br> +Gifford perchance, shall raise the chastening song,<br> +Then sleep my pen for ever! and my voice<br> +Be only heard to hail him, and rejoice,<br> +Rejoice, and yield my feeble praise, though I<br> +May feel the lash that Virtue must apply.<br> +<br> + As for the smaller fry, who swarm in shoals<br> +From silly <b>Hafiz</b> up to simple <b>Bowles</b><a href= +"#f640"><sup>106</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr640">Why</a> should we call them from their dark +abode,<br> +In Broad St. Giles's or Tottenham-Road?<br> +Or (since some men of fashion nobly dare<br> +To scrawl in verse) from Bond-street or the Square<a href= +"#f641"><sup>Bb</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr641">If</a> things of Ton their harmless lays +indite,<br> +Most wisely doomed to shun the public sight,<br> +What harm? in spite of every critic elf,<br> +Sir T. may read his stanzas to himself;<br> +<b>Miles Andrews</b><a href="#f642"><sup>107</sup></a> still his +strength in couplets try,<br> +<a name="fr642">And</a> live in prologues, though his dramas +die.<br> +Lords too are Bards: such things at times befall,<br> +And 'tis some praise in Peers to write at all.<br> +<a name="fr643">Yet</a>, did or Taste or Reason sway the +times,<br> +Ah! who would take their titles with their rhymes<a href= +"#f643"><sup>108</sup></a>?<br> +<b>Roscommon</b><a href="#f644"><sup>109</sup></a>! +<b>Sheffield</b><a href="#f645"><sup>110</sup></a>! with your +spirits fled<a href="#f646"><sup>111</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr644">No</a> future laurels deck a noble head;<br> +<a name="fr645">No</a> Muse will cheer, with renovating +smile,<br> +<a name="fr646">The</a> paralytic puling of <b>Carlisle</b><a +href="#f647"><sup>112</sup></a> <a href= +"#f648"><sup>Cc</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr647">The</a> puny schoolboy and his early lay<br> +<a name="fr648">Men</a> pardon, if his follies pass away;<br> +But who forgives the Senior's ceaseless verse,<br> +Whose hairs grow hoary as his rhymes grow worse?<br> +What heterogeneous honours deck the Peer!<br> +Lord, rhymester, petit-maître, pamphleteer<a href= +"#f649"><sup>113</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr649">So</a> dull in youth, so drivelling in his +age,<br> +His scenes alone had damned our sinking stage;<br> +But Managers for once cried, "Hold, enough!"<br> +Nor drugged their audience with the tragic stuff.<br> +Yet at their judgment let his Lordship laugh<a href= +"#f650"><sup>Dd</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr650">And</a> case his volumes in congenial calf;<br> +<a name="fr651">Yes</a>! doff that covering, where Morocco +shines,<br> +And hang a calf-skin on those recreant lines<a href= +"#f651"><sup>114</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + With you, ye Druids! rich in native lead,<br> +Who daily scribble for your daily bread:<br> +With you I war not: <b>Gifford's</b> heavy hand<br> +Has crushed, without remorse, your numerous band.<br> +On "All the Talents" vent your venal spleen<a href= +"#f652"><sup>115</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr652">Want</a> is your plea, let Pity be your +screen.<br> +Let Monodies on Fox regale your crew,<br> +And Melville's Mantle<a href="#f653"><sup>116</sup></a> prove a +Blanket too!<br> +<a name="fr653">One</a> common Lethe waits each hapless Bard,<br> +And, peace be with you! 'tis your best reward.<br> +Such damning fame; as Dunciads only give<a href= +"#f654"><sup>Ee</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr654">Could</a> bid your lines beyond a morning +live;<br> +But now at once your fleeting labours close,<br> +With names of greater note in blest repose.<br> +Far be't from me unkindly to upbraid<br> +The lovely <b>Rosa's</b> prose in masquerade,<br> +<a name="fr655">Whose</a> strains, the faithful echoes of her +mind,<br> +Leave wondering comprehension far behind<a href= +"#f655"><sup>117</sup></a>.<br> +Though Crusca's bards no more our journals fill<a href= +"#f656"><sup>118</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr656">Some</a> stragglers skirmish round the columns +still;<br> +Last of the howling host which once was Bell's<a href= +"#f657"><sup>Ff</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr657">Matilda</a> snivels yet, and Hafiz yells;<br> +And Merry's<a href="#f658"><sup>119</sup></a> metaphors appear +anew,<br> +<a name="fr658">Chained</a> to the signature of O. P. Q.<a href= +"#f659"><sup>120</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr659">When</a> some brisk youth, the tenant of a +stall,<br> +Employs a pen less pointed than his awl,<br> +Leaves his snug shop, forsakes his store of shoes,<br> +St. Crispin quits, and cobbles for the Muse,<br> +Heavens! how the vulgar stare! how crowds applaud!<br> +How ladies read, and Literati laud<a href= +"#f660"><sup>121</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr660">If</a> chance some wicked wag should pass his +jest,<br> +'Tis sheer ill-nature--don't the world know best?<br> +Genius must guide when wits admire the rhyme,<br> +And <b>Capel Lofft</b><a href="#f661"><sup>122</sup></a> declares +'tis quite sublime.<br> +<a name="fr661">Hear</a>, then, ye happy sons of needless +trade!<br> +Swains! quit the plough, resign the useless spade!<br> +Lo! <b>Burns</b> and <b>Bloomfield</b>, nay, a greater far,<br> +<b>Gifford</b> was born beneath an adverse star,<br> +Forsook the labours of a servile state,<br> +Stemmed the rude storm, and triumphed over Fate:<br> +<a name="fr662">Then</a> why no more? if Phoebus smiled on +you,<br> +<b>Bloomfield</b>! why not on brother Nathan too<a href= +"#f662"><sup>123</sup></a>?<br> +Him too the Mania, not the Muse, has seized;<br> +Not inspiration, but a mind diseased:<br> +And now no Boor can seek his last abode,<br> +No common be inclosed without an ode.<br> +Oh! since increased refinement deigns to smile<br> +On Britain's sons, and bless our genial Isle,<br> +Let Poesy go forth, pervade the whole,<br> +Alike the rustic, and mechanic soul!<br> +Ye tuneful cobblers! still your notes prolong,<br> +Compose at once a slipper and a song;<br> +So shall the fair your handywork peruse,<br> +Your sonnets sure shall please--perhaps your shoes.<br> +May Moorland weavers<a href="#f663"><sup>124</sup></a> boast +Pindaric skill,<br> +<a name="fr663">And</a> tailors' lays be longer than their +bill!<br> +While punctual beaux reward the grateful notes,<br> +And pay for poems--when they pay for coats.<br> +<br> + To the famed throng now paid the tribute due<a href= +"#f664"><sup>Gg</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr664">Neglected</a> Genius! let me turn to you.<br> +Come forth, oh <b>Campbell</b>! give thy talents scope;<br> +Who dares aspire if thou must cease to hope?<br> +And thou, melodious <b>Rogers</b>! rise at last,<br> +Recall the pleasing memory of the past<a href= +"#f665"><sup>125</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr665">Arise</a>! let blest remembrance still +inspire,<br> +And strike to wonted tones thy hallowed lyre;<br> +Restore Apollo to his vacant throne,<br> +Assert thy country's honour and thine own.<br> +What! must deserted Poesy still weep<br> +Where her last hopes with pious <b>Cowper</b> sleep?<br> +Unless, perchance, from his cold bier she turns,<br> +To deck the turf that wraps her minstrel, <b>Burns</b>!<br> +No! though contempt hath marked the spurious brood,<br> +The race who rhyme from folly, or for food,<br> +<a name="fr666">Yet</a> still some genuine sons 'tis hers to +boast,<br> +Who, least affecting, still affect the most<a href= +"#f666"><sup>Hh</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr667">Feel</a> as they write, and write but as they +feel--<br> +Bear witness <b>Gifford</b><a href="#f667"><sup>126</sup></a>, +<b>Sotheby</b><a href="#f668"><sup>127</sup></a>, +<b>Macneil</b><a href="#f669"><sup>128</sup></a>.<br> +"<a name="fr668">Why</a> slumbers <b>Gifford</b>?" once was asked +in vain;<br> +<a name="fr669">Why</a> slumbers <b>Gifford</b>? let us ask +again<a href="#f670"><sup>129</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr670">Are</a> there no follies for his pen to +purge?<br> +Are there no fools whose backs demand the scourge?<br> +Are there no sins for Satire's Bard to greet?<br> +Stalks not gigantic Vice in every street?<br> +Shall Peers or Princes tread pollution's path,<br> +And 'scape alike the Laws and Muse's wrath?<br> +Nor blaze with guilty glare through future time,<br> +Eternal beacons of consummate crime?<br> +Arouse thee, <b>Gifford</b>! be thy promise claimed,<br> +<a name="fr671">Make</a> bad men better, or at least ashamed.<br> +<br> + Unhappy <b>White</b><a href="#f671"><sup>130</sup></a>! while +life was in its spring,<br> +<a name="fr672">And</a> thy young Muse just waved her joyous +wing,<br> +The Spoiler swept that soaring Lyre away<a href= +"#f672"><sup>131</sup></a> <a href="#f673"><sup>Jj</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr673">Which</a> else had sounded an immortal lay.<br> +Oh! what a noble heart was here undone,<br> +When Science' self destroyed her favourite son!<br> +Yes, she too much indulged thy fond pursuit,<br> +She sowed the seeds, but Death has reaped the fruit.<br> +'Twas thine own Genius gave the final blow,<br> +And helped to plant the wound that laid thee low:<br> +So the struck Eagle, stretched upon the plain,<br> +No more through rolling clouds to soar again,<br> +Viewed his own feather on the fatal dart,<br> +And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart;<br> +Keen were his pangs, but keener far to feel<br> +He nursed the pinion which impelled the steel;<br> +While the same plumage that had warmed his nest<br> +Drank the last life-drop of his bleeding breast.<br> +<br> + There be who say, in these enlightened days,<br> +That splendid lies are all the poet's praise;<br> +That strained Invention, ever on the wing,<br> +Alone impels the modern Bard to sing:<br> +Tis true, that all who rhyme--nay, all who write,<br> +Shrink from that fatal word to Genius--Trite;<br> +Yet Truth sometimes will lend her noblest fires,<br> +And decorate the verse herself inspires:<br> +This fact in Virtue's name let <b>Crabbe</b><a href= +"#f674"><sup>132</sup></a> attest;<br> +<a name="fr674">Though</a> Nature's sternest Painter, yet the +best.<br> +<br> + And here let <b>Shee</b><a href="#f675"><sup>133</sup></a> and +Genius find a place,<br> +<a name="fr675">Whose</a> pen and pencil yield an equal +grace;<br> +To guide whose hand the sister Arts combine,<br> +And trace the Poet's or the Painter's line;<br> +Whose magic touch can bid the canvas glow,<br> +Or pour the easy rhyme's harmonious flow;<br> +While honours, doubly merited, attend<a href= +"#f676"><sup>Kk</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr676">The</a> Poet's rival, but the Painter's +friend.<br> +<br> + Blest is the man who dares approach the bower<br> +Where dwelt the Muses at their natal hour;<br> +Whose steps have pressed, whose eye has marked afar,<br> +The clime that nursed the sons of song and war,<br> +The scenes which Glory still must hover o'er,<br> +Her place of birth, her own Achaian shore.<br> +But doubly blest is he whose heart expands<br> +With hallowed feelings for those classic lands;<br> +Who rends the veil of ages long gone by,<br> +And views their remnants with a poet's eye!<br> +<b>Wright</b><a href="#f677"><sup>134</sup></a>! 'twas thy happy +lot at once to view<br> +<a name="fr677">Those</a> shores of glory, and to sing them +too;<br> +And sure no common Muse inspired thy pen<br> +To hail the land of Gods and Godlike men.<br> +<br> + And you, associate Bards<a href="#f678"><sup>135</sup></a>! who +snatched to light<a href="#f679"><sup>Mm</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr678">Those</a> gems too long withheld from modern +sight;<br> +<a name="fr679">Whose</a> mingling taste combined to cull the +wreath<br> +While Attic flowers Aonian odours breathe,<br> +And all their renovated fragrance flung,<br> +To grace the beauties of your native tongue;<br> +Now let those minds, that nobly could transfuse<br> +The glorious Spirit of the Grecian Muse,<br> +Though soft the echo, scorn a borrowed tone<a href= +"#f680"><sup>Nn</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr680">Resign</a> Achaia's lyre, and strike your +own.<br> +<br> + Let these, or such as these, with just applause<a href= +"#f681"><sup>Pp</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr681">Restore</a> the Muse's violated laws;<br> +But not in flimsy <b>Darwin's</b><a href= +"#f682"><sup>136</sup></a> pompous chime<a href= +"#f683"><sup>Qq</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr682">That</a> mighty master of unmeaning rhyme,<br> +<a name="fr683">Whose</a> gilded cymbals, more adorned than +clear,<br> +The eye delighted, but fatigued the ear,<br> +In show the simple lyre could once surpass,<br> +But now, worn down, appear in native brass;<br> +While all his train of hovering sylphs around<br> +Evaporate in similes and sound:<br> +<a name="fr684">Him</a> let them shun, with him let tinsel +die:<br> +False glare attracts, but more offends the eye<a href= +"#f684"><sup>137</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Yet let them not to vulgar <b>Wordsworth</b><a href= +"#f685"><sup>138</sup></a> stoop,<br> +<a name="fr685">The</a> meanest object of the lowly group,<br> +Whose verse, of all but childish prattle void,<br> +Seems blessed harmony to <b>Lamb</b> and <b>Lloyd</b><a href= +"#f686"><sup>139</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr686">Let</a> them--but hold, my Muse, nor dare to +teach<br> +A strain far, far beyond thy humble reach:<br> +The native genius with their being given<br> +Will point the path, and peal their notes to heaven.<br> +<br> + And thou, too, <b>Scott</b><a href="#f687"><sup>140</sup></a>! +resign to minstrels rude<br> +<a name="fr687">The</a> wilder Slogan of a Border feud:<br> +Let others spin their meagre lines for hire;<br> +<a name="fr688">Enough</a> for Genius, if itself inspire!<br> +Let <b>Southey</b> sing, altho' his teeming muse<a href= +"#f688"><sup>Rr</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr689">Prolific</a> every spring, be too profuse;<br> +Let simple <b>Wordsworth</b><a href="#f689"><sup>141</sup></a> +chime his childish verse,<br> +And brother <b>Coleridge</b> lull the babe at nurse<a href= +"#f690"><sup>Ss</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr690">Let</a> Spectre-mongering <b>Lewis</b> aim, at +most<a href="#f691"><sup>Tt</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr691">To</a> rouse the Galleries, or to raise a +ghost;<br> +Let <b>Moore</b> still sigh; let <b>Strangford</b> steal from +<b>Moore</b><a href="#f692"><sup>Uu</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr692">And</a> swear that <b>Camoëns</b> sang such +notes of yore;<br> +Let <b>Hayley</b> hobble on, <b>Montgomery</b> rave,<br> +<a name="fr693">And</a> godly <b>Grahame</b> chant a stupid +stave;<br> +Let sonneteering <b>Bowles</b><a href="#f693"><sup>142</sup></a> +his strains refine,<br> +<a name="fr694">And</a> whine and whimper to the fourteenth +line;<br> +Let <b>Stott</b>, <b>Carlisle</b><a href= +"#f694"><sup>143</sup></a>, <b>Matilda</b>, and the rest<br> +Of Grub Street, and of Grosvenor Place the best,<br> +Scrawl on, 'till death release us from the strain,<br> +<a name="fr740">Or</a> Common Sense assert her rights again;<br> +But Thou, with powers that mock the aid of praise,<br> +Should'st leave to humbler Bards ignoble lays:<br> +Thy country's voice, the voice of all the Nine,<br> +Demand a hallowed harp--that harp is thine.<br> +Say! will not Caledonia's annals yield<br> +The glorious record of some nobler field,<br> +Than the vile foray of a plundering clan,<br> +Whose proudest deeds disgrace the name of man?<br> +Or Marmion's acts of darkness, fitter food<br> +For <b>Sherwood's</b> outlaw tales of <b>Robin Hood</b><a href= +"#f695"><sup>Vv</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr695">Scotland</a>! still proudly claim thy native +Bard,<br> +And be thy praise his first, his best reward!<br> +Yet not with thee alone his name should live,<br> +But own the vast renown a world can give;<br> +Be known, perchance, when Albion is no more,<br> +And tell the tale of what she was before;<br> +To future times her faded fame recall,<br> +And save her glory, though his country fall.<br> +<br> + Yet what avails the sanguine Poet's hope,<br> +To conquer ages, and with time to cope?<br> +New eras spread their wings, new nations rise,<br> +And other Victors fill th' applauding skies<a href= +"#f696"><sup>144</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr696">A</a> few brief generations fleet along,<br> +Whose sons forget the Poet and his song:<br> +E'en now, what once-loved Minstrels scarce may claim<br> +The transient mention of a dubious name!<br> +When Fame's loud trump hath blown its noblest blast,<br> +Though long the sound, the echo sleeps at last;<br> +And glory, like the Phoenix<a href="#f697"><sup>145</sup></a> +midst her fires,<br> +<a name="fr697">Exhales</a> her odours, blazes, and expires.<br> +<br> + Shall hoary Granta call her sable sons,<br> +Expert in science, more expert at puns?<br> +<a name="fr698">Shall</a> these approach the Muse? ah, no! she +flies,<br> +Even from the tempting ore of Seaton's prize<a href= +"#f698"><sup>Ww</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr699">Though</a> Printers condescend the press to +soil<br> +<a name="fr700">With</a> rhyme by <b>Hoare</b><a href= +"#f699"><sup>146</sup></a>, and epic blank by <b>Hoyle</b><a +href="#f700"><sup>147</sup></a> <a href= +"#f701"><sup>Xx</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr701">Not</a> him whose page, if still upheld by +whist,<br> +Requires no sacred theme to bid us list<a href= +"#f702"><sup>148</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr702">Ye</a>! who in Granta's honours would +surpass,<br> +Must mount her Pegasus, a full-grown ass;<br> +<a name="fr703">A</a> foal well worthy of her ancient Dam,<br> +Whose Helicon<a href="#f703"><sup>149</sup></a> is duller than +her Cam<a href="#f704"><sup>Yy</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr704">There</a> <b>Clarke</b><a href= +"#f705"><sup>150</sup></a>, still striving piteously "to +please,"<a href="#f706"><sup>Zz</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr705">Forgetting</a> doggerel leads not to degrees,<br> +<a name="fr706">A</a> would-be satirist, a hired Buffoon,<br> +A monthly scribbler of some low Lampoon<a href= +"#f707"><sup>151</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr707">Condemned</a> to drudge, the meanest of the +mean,<br> +And furbish falsehoods for a magazine,<br> +Devotes to scandal his congenial mind;<br> +<a name="fr708">Himself</a> a living libel on mankind.<br> +<br> + Oh! dark asylum of a Vandal race<a href= +"#f708"><sup>152</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr709">At</a> once the boast of learning, and +disgrace!<br> +<a name="fr710">So</a> lost to Phoebus, that nor Hodgson's<a +href="#f709"><sup>153</sup></a> verse<br> +Can make thee better, nor poor Hewson's<a href= +"#f710"><sup>154</sup></a> worse<a href= +"#f711"><sup>aA</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr711">But</a> where fair Isis rolls her purer wave,<br> +The partial Muse delighted loves to lave;<br> +On her green banks a greener wreath she wove<a href= +"#f712"><sup>bB</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr712">To</a> crown the Bards that haunt her classic +grove;<br> +<a name="fr713">Where</a> <b>Richards</b> wakes a genuine poet's +fires,<br> +And modern Britons glory in their Sires<a href= +"#f713"><sup>155</sup></a> <a href="#f714"><sup>cC</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr714">For</a> me, who, thus unasked, have dared to +tell<br> +My country, what her sons should know too well<a href= +"#f715"><sup>dD</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr715">Zeal</a> for her honour bade me here engage<a +href="#f716"><sup>eE</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr716">The</a> host of idiots that infest her age;<br> +No just applause her honoured name shall lose,<br> +As first in freedom, dearest to the Muse.<br> +Oh! would thy bards but emulate thy fame,<br> +And rise more worthy, Albion, of thy name!<br> +What Athens was in science, Rome in power,<br> +What Tyre appeared in her meridian hour,<br> +'Tis thine at once, fair Albion! to have been--<br> +Earth's chief Dictatress, Ocean's lovely Queen<a href= +"#f717"><sup>fF</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr717">But</a> Rome decayed, and Athens strewed the +plain,<br> +And Tyre's proud piers lie shattered in the main;<br> +Like these, thy strength may sink, in ruin hurled<a href= +"#f718"><sup>gG</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr718">And</a> Britain fall, the bulwark of the +world.<br> +But let me cease, and dread Cassandra's fate,<br> +With warning ever scoffed at, till too late;<br> +<a name="fr719">To</a> themes less lofty still my lay +confine,<br> +And urge thy Bards to gain a name like thine<a href= +"#f719"><sup>156</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Then, hapless Britain! be thy rulers blest,<br> +The senate's oracles, the people's jest!<br> +Still hear thy motley orators dispense<br> +The flowers of rhetoric, though not of sense,<br> +While <b>Canning's</b> colleagues hate him for his wit,<br> +And old dame <b>Portland</b><a href="#f720"><sup>157</sup></a> +fills the place of <b>Pitt</b>.<br> +<br> + <a name="fr720">Yet</a> once again, adieu! ere this the sail<br> +<a name="fr721">That</a> wafts me hence is shivering in the +gale;<br> +And Afric's coast and Calpe's adverse height<a href= +"#f721"><sup>158</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr722">And</a> Stamboul's minarets must greet my +sight:<br> +Thence shall I stray through Beauty's native clime<a href= +"#f722"><sup>159</sup></a>,<br> +Where Kaff<a href="#f723"><sup>160</sup></a> is clad in rocks, +and crowned with snows sublime.<br> +<a name="fr723">But</a> should I back return, no tempting press<a +href="#f724"><sup>hH</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr724">Shall</a> drag my Journal from the desk's +recess;<br> +Let coxcombs, printing as they come from far,<br> +Snatch his own wreath of Ridicule from Carr;<br> +Let <b>Aberdeen</b> and <b>Elgin</b><a href= +"#f725"><sup>161</sup></a> still pursue<br> +<a name="fr725">The</a> shade of fame through regions of +Virtù;<br> +Waste useless thousands on their Phidian freaks,<br> +Misshapen monuments and maimed antiques;<br> +And make their grand saloons a general mart<br> +For all the mutilated blocks of art:<br> +<a name="fr726">Of</a> Dardan tours let Dilettanti tell,<br> +I leave topography to rapid<a href="#f726"><sup>162</sup></a> +<b>Gell</b><a href="#f727"><sup>163</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr728">And</a>, quite content, no more shall +interpose<br> +<a name="fr727">To</a> stun the public ear--at least with Prose<a +href="#f728"><sup>jJ</sup></a>.<br> +<br> + Thus far I've held my undisturbed career,<br> +Prepared for rancour, steeled 'gainst selfish fear;<br> +This thing of rhyme I ne'er disdained to own--<br> +Though not obtrusive, yet not quite unknown:<br> +My voice was heard again, though not so loud,<br> +My page, though nameless, never disavowed;<br> +And now at once I tear the veil away:--<br> +<a name="fr729">Cheer</a> on the pack! the Quarry stands at +bay,<br> +Unscared by all the din of <b>Melbourne</b> house<a href= +"#f729"><sup>164</sup></a>,<br> +By <b>Lamb's</b> resentment, or by <b>Holland's</b> spouse,<br> +By <b>Jeffrey's</b> harmless pistol, <b>Hallam's</b> rage,<br> +Edina's brawny sons and brimstone page.<br> +Our men in buckram shall have blows enough,<br> +And feel they too are "penetrable stuff:"<br> +And though I hope not hence unscathed to go,<br> +Who conquers me shall find a stubborn foe.<br> +The time hath been, when no harsh sound would fall<br> +From lips that now may seem imbued with gall;<br> +Nor fools nor follies tempt me to despise<br> +The meanest thing that crawled beneath my eyes:<br> +But now, so callous grown, so changed since youth,<br> +I've learned to think, and sternly speak the truth;<br> +Learned to deride the critic's starch decree,<br> +And break him on the wheel he meant for me;<br> +To spurn the rod a scribbler bids me kiss,<br> +Nor care if courts and crowds applaud or hiss:<br> +Nay more, though all my rival rhymesters frown,<br> +I too can hunt a Poetaster down;<br> +And, armed in proof, the gauntlet cast at once<br> +To Scotch marauder, and to Southern dunce.<br> +Thus much I've dared; if my incondite lay<a href= +"#f730"><sup>kK</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr730">Hath</a> wronged these righteous times, let +others say:<br> +<a name="fr731">This</a>, let the world, which knows not how to +spare,<br> +Yet rarely blames unjustly, now declare<a href= +"#f731"><sup>165</sup></a>.</td> +<td width="50%"><br> +<a href="#f920">c11</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + 100<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +110<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +120<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +130<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +140<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +150<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +160<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +170<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +180<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +190<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +200<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +210<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +220<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +230<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +240<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +250<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +260<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +270<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +280<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +290<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +300<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +310<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +320<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +330<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +340<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +350<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +360<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +370<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +380<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +390<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +400<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +410<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +420<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#c2">c2</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +430<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +440<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +450<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +460<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#f386">c3</a> <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +470<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +480<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +490<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +500<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +510<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +520<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +530<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +540<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +550<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +560<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#f620">c4</a> <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +570<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +580<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +590<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +600<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +610<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +620<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +630<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +640<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +650<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +660<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +670<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +680<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#fr634">c5</a> <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +690<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +700<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +710<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +720<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +730<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +740<br> +<a href="#f908">c10</a> <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +750<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +760<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#f901a">c7</a> Ý770<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +780<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#f901a">c6</a> <br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +790<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +800<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +810<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +820<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +830<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +840<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +850<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +860<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +870<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +880<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +890<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +900<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +910<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +920<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +930<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +940<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +950<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +960<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +970<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +980<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +990<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +1000<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#cr13">c13</a> <br> +<br> +<br> +1010<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +1020<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +1030<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +1040<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +1050<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +1060<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +1070</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="EBSR footnotes!!" border="2" cellspacing="0" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f486"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span> Ý "The <i>binding</i> of +this volume is considerably too valuable for the contents. +Nothing but the consideration of its being the property of +another, prevents me from consigning this miserable record of +misplaced anger and indiscriminate acrimony to the flames."--B., +1816.<br> +<a href="#section114c">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f489"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>Truth be my theme, and Censure guide my +song.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr489">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f487"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span> Ý<b>Imitation</b>: + +<blockquote>"Semper ego auditor tantum? nunquamne reponam,<br> + Vexatus toties, rauci Theseide Codri?"</blockquote> + +<b>Juvenal</b>, <i>Satire I</i>.l. 1.<br> +<a href="#fr487">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f490"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>But thou, at least, mine own especial quill<br> + Dipt in the dew drops from Parnassus' hill,<br> + Shalt ever honoured and regarded be,<br> + By more beside no doubt, yet still by me....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr490">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f488"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span> Ý "<i>Hoarse +Fitzgerald</i>.--"Right enough; but why notice such a +mountebank?"--B., 1816.<br> +<br> +Mr. Fitzgerald, facetiously termed by Cobbett the "Small Beer +Poet," inflicts his annual tribute of verse on the Literary Fund: +not content with writing, he spouts in person, after the company +have imbibed a reasonable quantity of bad port, to enable them to +sustain the operation.<br> +<br> +[William Thomas Fitzgerald (circ. 1759-1829) played the part of +unofficial poet laureate. His loyal recitations were reported by +the newspapers. He published, <i>inter alia</i>, <i>Nelson's +Triumph</i> (1798), <i>Tears of Hibernia, dispelled by the +Union</i> (1802), and <i>Nelson's Tomb</i> (1806). He owes his +fame to the first line of <i>English Bards</i>, and the famous +parody in <i>Rejected Addresses</i>. The following <i>jeux +d'esprits</i> were transcribed by R. C. Dallas on a blank leaf of +a copy of the Fifth Edition:--<br> +<br> +"Written on a copy of <i>English Bards</i> at the 'Alfred' by W. +T. Fitzgerald, Esq.-- + +<blockquote>I find Lord Byron scorns my Muse, Our Fates are ill +agreed; The Verse is safe, I can't abuse Those lines, I never +read.</blockquote> + +Signed W. T. F."<br> +<br> +Answer written on the same page by Lord Byron-- + +<blockquote>"What's writ on me," cries Fitz, "I never read"! +What's writ by thee, dear Fitz, none will, indeed. The case +stands simply thus, then, honest Fitz, Thou and thine enemies are +fairly quits; Or rather would be, if for time to come, They +luckily were <i>deaf</i>, or thou wert dumb; <a name= +"fr732">But</a> to their pens while scribblers add their tongues. +The Waiter only can escape their lungs<a href="#f732"><span +style="color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>.</blockquote> + +<a name="f732"></a><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A</span> Compare <i>Hints from Horace</i>, <a href="#fr920">l. +808</a> (click c12 to return), <a href="#f920"><i>note</i> +1</a>.<br> +<a href="#fr488">return to main footnote mark</a><br> +<a href="#f920">cross-reference: return to Footnote 77 of +<i>Hints from Horace</i></a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f493"></a><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span>Ý + +<blockquote><i>And men through life her willing slaves +obey...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Second, Third, and Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr493">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f491"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span></a> Ý Cid Hamet Benengeli +promises repose to his pen, in the last chapter of <i>Don +Quixote</i>. Oh! that our voluminous gentry would follow the +example of Cid Hamet Benengeli!<br> +<a href="#fr491">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f494"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Unfolds her motley store to suit the +time...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Second, Third, and Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr494">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f492"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span></a> Ý"This must have been +written in the spirit of prophecy." (B., 1816.)<br> +<a href="#fr492">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f495"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>When Justice halts and Right begins to +fail...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Second, Third, and Fourth Editions.</i><br> +<a href="#fr495">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f498"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span></a> Ý "He's a very good +fellow; and, except his mother and sister, the best of the set, +to my mind."--B., 1816. [William (1779-1848) and George +(1784-1834) Lamb, sons of Sir Peniston Lamb (Viscount Melbourne, +1828), by Elizabeth, only daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke, were +Lady Byron's first cousins. William married, in 1805, Lady +Caroline Ponsonby, the writer of <i>Glenarvon</i>. George, who +was one of the early contributors to the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, +married in 1809 Caroline Rosalie Adelaide St. Jules. At the time +of the separation, Lady Caroline Lamb and Mrs. George Lamb warmly +espoused Lady Byron's cause, Lady Melbourne and her daughter Lady +Cowper (afterwards Lady Palmerston) were rather against than for +Lady Byron. William Lamb was discreetly silent, and George Lamb +declaimed against Lady Byron, calling her a d----d fool. Hence +Lord Byron's praises of George. Cf. line 517 of <i>English +Bards</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr498">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f496"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A mortal weapon...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr496">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f499"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span></a> ÝThis ingenuous youth is +mentioned more particularly, with his production, in another +place. (<i>Vide post</i>, l. 516.)<br> +<br> +"Spurious Brat" [see <a href="#f497">Footnote g</a>], that is the +farce; the ingenuous youth who begat it is mentioned more +particularly with his offspring in another place. [<i>Note. MS. +M.</i>]<br> +<br> +[The farce <i>Whistle for It</i> was performed two or three times +at Covent Garden Theatre in 1807.<br> +<a href="#fr499">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f497"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Yet Titles sounding lineage cannot save<br> + Or scrawl or scribbler from an equal grave,<br> + Lamb had his farce but that Patrician name<br> + Failed to preserve the spurious brat from +shame....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr497">return to poem</a><br> +<a href="#f499">cross-reference: return to Footnote 7 of this +poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f500"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span></a> Ý In the <i>Edinburgh +Review</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr500">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f502"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>a lucky hit....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Second, Third, and Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr502">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f501"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 9:</span></a> Ý The proverbial "Joe" +Miller, an actor by profession (1684-1738), was a man of no +education, and is said to have been unable to read. His +reputation rests mainly on the book of jests compiled after his +death, and attributed to him by John Mottley. (First Edition. T. +Read. 1739.)<br> +<a href="#fr501">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f510"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote i:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>No dearth of rhyme...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr510">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f503"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 10:</span></a> Ý Messrs. Jeffrey and +Lamb are the alpha and omega, the first and last of the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i>; the others are mentioned hereafter.<br> +<br> +[The MS. Note is as follows:-- + +<blockquote>"Of the young gentlemen who write in the <i>E.R.</i>, +I have now named the alpha and omega, the first and the last, the +best and the worst. The intermediate members are designated with +due honour hereafter."]<br> +<br> +"This was not just. Neither the heart nor the head of these +gentlemen are at all what they are here represented. At the time +this was written, I was personally unacquainted with +either."--B., 1816.</blockquote> + +[Francis Jeffrey (1773-1850) founded the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> +in conjunction with Sydney Smith, Brougham, and Francis Horner, +in 1802. In 1803 he succeeded Smith as editor, and conducted the +<i>Review</i> till 1829. Independence of publishers and high pay +to contributors ("Ten guineas a sheet," writes Southey to Scott, +June, 1807, "instead of seven pounds for the Annual," <i>Life and +Corr</i>., iii. 125) distinguished the new journal from the +first. Jeffrey was called to the Scottish bar in 1794, and as an +advocate was especially successful with juries. He was constantly +employed, and won fame and fortune. In 1829 he was elected Dean +of the Faculty of Advocates, and the following year, when the +Whigs came into office, he became Lord Advocate. He sat as M.P. +twice for Malton (1830-1832), and, afterwards, for Edinburgh. In +1834 he was appointed a Judge of the Court of Sessions, when he +took the title of Lord Jeffrey. Byron had attacked Jeffrey in +British Bards before his <i>Hours of Idleness</i> had been cut up +by the <i>Edinburgh</i>, and when the article appeared (Jan. +1808), under the mistaken impression that he was the author, +denounced him at large (ll. 460-528) in the first edition of +<i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>. None the less, the +great critic did not fail to do ample justice to the poet's +mature work, and won from him repeated acknowledgments of his +kindness and generosity. (See <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, vol. xxii. +p. 416, and Byron's comment in his <i>Diary</i> for March +20,1814; <i>Life</i>, p. 232. See, too, <i>Hints from Horace</i>, +ll. 589-626; and <i>Don Juan</i>, canto x. st. 11-16, and canto +xii. st. 16. See also Bagehot's <i>Literary Studies</i>, vol. i. +article I.)]<br> +<a href="#fr503">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f511"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The Press oppressed...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr511">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f504"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 11:</span></a> Ý <b>Imitation</b>: + +<blockquote>"Stulta est dementia, cum tot ubique<br> + ----occurras perituræ parcere chartæ."</blockquote> + +<b>Juvenal</b>, <i>Sat. I.</i> ll. 17, 18.<br> +<a href="#fr504">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f512"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>While Southey's Epics load....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr512">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f505"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 12:</span></a> Ý <b>Imitation</b>. + +<blockquote>"Cur tamen hoc potius libeat decurrere campo,<br> + Per quem magnus equos Auruncæ flexit alumnus,<br> + Si vacat, et placidi rationem admittitis, edam."</blockquote> + +<b>Juvenal</b>, <i>Sat. I</i>. ll. 19-21.<br> +<a href="#fr505">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f516"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>O'er taste awhile these Infidels +prevail...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr516">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f506"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 13:</span></a> Ý William Gifford +(1756-1826), a self-taught scholar, first a ploughboy, then boy +on board a Brixham coaster, afterwards shoemaker's apprentice, +was sent by friends to Exeter College, Oxford (1779-81). In the +<i>Baviad</i> (1794) and the <i>Maeviad</i> (1795) he attacked +many of the smaller writers of the day, who were either silly, +like the Della Cruscan School, or discreditable, like Williams, +who wrote as "Anthony Pasquin." In his <i>Epistle to Peter +Pindar</i> (1800) he laboured to expose the true character of +John Wolcot. As editor of the <i>Anti-Jacobin, or Weekly +Examiner</i> (November, 1797, to July, 1798), he supported the +political views of Canning and his friends. As editor of the +<i>Quarterly Review</i>, from its foundation (February, 1809) to +his resignation in September, 1824, he soon rose to literary +eminence by his sound sense and adherence to the best models, +though his judgments were sometimes narrow-minded and warped by +political prejudice. His editions of <i>Massinger</i> (1805), +which superseded that of Monck Mason and Davies (1765), of <i>Ben +Jonson</i> (1816), of <i>Ford</i> (1827), are valuable. To his +translation of <i>Juvenal</i> (1802) is prefixed his +autobiography. His translation of <i>Persius</i> appeared in +1821. To Gifford, Byron usually paid the utmost deference. + +<blockquote>"Any suggestion of yours, even if it were conveyed," +he writes to him, in 1813, "in the less tender text of the +<i>Baviad</i>, or a Monck Mason note to Massinger, would be +obeyed."</blockquote> + +See also his letter (September 20, 1821, <i>Life</i>, p.531): + +<blockquote>"I know no praise which would compensate me in my own +mind for his censure."</blockquote> + +Byron was attracted to Gifford, partly by his devotion to the +classical models of literature, partly by the outspoken frankness +of his literary criticism, partly also, perhaps, by his physical +deformity.<br> +<a href="#fr506">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f517"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Erect and hail an idol of their +own....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr517">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f507"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 14:</span></a> Ý Henry James Pye +(1745-1813), M.P. for Berkshire, and afterwards Police Magistrate +for Westminster, held the office of poet laureate from 1790 till +his death in 1813, succeeding Thomas Warton, and succeeded by +Southey. He published <i>Farringdon Hill</i> in 1774, The +<i>Progress of Refinement</i> in 1783, and a translation of +Burger's <i>Lenore</i> in 1795. His name recurs in the <i>Vision +of Judgment</i>, stanza xcii. Lines 97-102 were inserted in the +Fifth Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr507">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f522"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Not quite a footpad...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr522">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f508"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 15:</span></a> Ý The first edition of +the Satire opened with this line; and Byron's original intention +was to prefix the following argument, first published in +<i>Recollections</i>, by R. C. Dallas (1824):-- + +<blockquote>"<b>Argument</b>.<br> +<br> + "The poet considereth times past, and their poesy--makes a +sudden transition to times present--is incensed against +book-makers--revileth Walter Scott for cupidity and +ballad-mongering, with notable remarks on Master +Southey--complaineth that Master Southey had inflicted three +poems, epic and otherwise, on the public--inveigheth against +William Wordsworth, but laudeth Mister Coleridge and his elegy on +a young ass--is disposed to vituperate Mr. Lewis--and greatly +rebuketh Thomas Little (the late) and Lord +Strangford--recommendeth Mr. Hayley to turn his attention to +prose--and exhorteth the Moravians to glorify Mr. +Grahame--sympathiseth with the Rev. [William Bowles]--and +deploreth the melancholy fate of James Montgomery--breaketh out +into invective against the Edinburgh Reviewers--calleth them hard +names, harpies and the like--apostrophiseth Jeffrey, and +prophesieth.--Episode of Jeffrey and Moore, their jeopardy and +deliverance; portents on the morn of the combat; the Tweed, +Tolbooth, Firth of Forth [and Arthur's Seat], severally shocked; +descent of a goddess to save Jeffrey; incorporation of the +bullets with his sinciput and occiput.--Edinburgh Reviews <i>en +masse</i>.--Lord Aberdeen, Herbert, Scott, Hallam, Pillans, +Lambe, Sydney Smith, Brougham, etc.--Lord Holland applauded for +dinners and translations.--The Drama; Skeffington, Hook, +Reynolds, Kenney, Cherry, etc.--Sheridan, Colman, and Cumberland +called upon [requested, MS.] to write.--Return to +poesy--scribblers of all sorts--lords sometimes rhyme; much +better not--Hafiz, Rosa Matilda, and X.Y.Z.--Rogers, Campbell, +Gifford, etc. true poets--Translators of the Greek +Anthology--Crabbe--Darwin's style--Cambridge--Seatonian +Prize--Smythe--Hodgson--Oxford--Richards--Poeta +loquitur--Conclusion."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr508">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f525"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Low may they sink to merited +contempt...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<blockquote><i>And Scorn reimmerate the mean +attempt!</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr525">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f509"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 16:</span></a> Ý Lines 115, 116, were +a MS. addition to the printed text of <i>British Bards</i>. An +alternative version has been pencilled on the margin:-- + +<blockquote>"Otway and Congreve mimic scenes had wove<br> + And Waller tuned his Lyre to mighty Love."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr509">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f528"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote q:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>though lesser bards content...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr528">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f513"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 17:</span></a> Ý Thomas Little was the +name under which Moore's early poems were published, <i>The +Poetical Works of the late Thomas Little, Esq.</i> (1801). +"Twelves" refers to the "duodecimo." Sheets, after printing, are +pressed between cold or hot rollers, to impart smoothness of +"surface." Hot rolling is the more expensive process.<br> +<a href="#fr513">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f540"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote r:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>How well the subject...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr540">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f514"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 18:</span></a> Ý Eccles. chapter i. +verse 9.<br> + <a href="#fr514">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f541"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote s:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A fellow feeling makes us wondrous +kind...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards, First to Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr541">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f515"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 19:</span></a> Ý At first sight Byron +appears to refer to the lighting of streets by gas, especially as +the first shop lighted with it was that of Lardner & Co., at +the corner of the Albany (June, 1805), and as lamps were on view +at the premises of the Gas Light and Coke Company in Pall Mall +from 1808 onwards. But it is almost certain that he alludes to +the "sublimating gas" of Dr. Beddoes, which his assistant, Davy, +mentions in his <i>Researches</i> (1800) as nitrous oxide, and +which was used by Southey and Coleridge. The same four "wonders" +of medical science are depicted in Gillray's caricatures, +November, 1801, and May and June, 1802, and are satirized in +Christopher Caustic's <i>Terrible Tractoration! A Poetical +Petition against Galvanising Trumpery and the Perkinistit +Institution</i> (in 4 cantos, 1803).<br> +<br> +Against vaccination, or cow-pox, a brisk war was still being +carried on. Gillray has a likeness of Jenner vaccinating +patients.<br> +<br> +Metallic "Tractors" were a remedy much advertised at the +beginning of the century by an American quack, Benjamin Charles +Perkins, founder of the Perkinean Institution in London, as a +"cure for all Disorders, Red Noses, Gouty Toes, Windy Bowels, +Broken Legs, Hump Backs."<br> +<br> +In Galvanism several experiments, conducted by Professor Aldini, +nephew of Galvani, are described in the <i>Morning Post</i> for +Jan. 6th, Feb. 6th, and Jan. 22nd, 1803. The latter were made on +the body of Forster the murderer.<br> +<br> +For the allusion to Gas, compare <i>Terrible Tractoration</i>, +canto 1-- + +<blockquote>"Beddoes (bless the good doctor) has<br> + Sent me a bag full of his gas,<br> + Which snuff'd the nose up, makes wit brighter,<br> + And eke a dunce an airy writer."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr515">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f543"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote t:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Who fain would'st...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards, First to Fifth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr543">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f518"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 20:</span></a> Ý Stott, better known +in the <i>Morning Post</i> by the name of Hafiz. This personage +is at present the most profound explorer of the bathos. I +remember, when the reigning family left Portugal, a special Ode +of Master Stott's, beginning thus:--(<i>Stott loquitur quoad +Hibernia</i>)-- + +<blockquote>"Princely offspring of Braganza,<br> + Erin greets thee with a stanza," etc.</blockquote> + +Also a Sonnet to Rats, well worthy of the subject, and a most +thundering Ode, commencing as follows:-- + +<blockquote>"Oh! for a Lay! loud as the surge That lashes +Lapland's sounding shore."</blockquote> + +Lord have mercy on us! the "Lay of the Last Minstrel" was nothing +to this.<br> +<br> +[The lines "Princely Offspring," headed "Extemporaneous Verse on +the expulsion of the Prince Regent from Portugal by Gallic +Tyranny," were published in the <i>Morning Post</i>, Dec. 30, +1807. (See <i>post</i>, l. 708, and <i>note</i>.)]<br> + <a href="#fr518">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f545"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote u:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Mend thy life, and sin no more...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr545">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f519"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 21:</span></a> Ý<a href= +"#f542">See</a> p. 317, note 1<br> + <a href="#fr519">return</a>.</td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f547"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote v:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And o'er harmonious nonsense...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First Edition</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr547">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f520"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 22:</span></a> Ý See the "Lay of the +Last Minstrel," <i>passim</i>. Never was any plan so incongruous +and absurd as the groundwork of this production. The entrance of +Thunder and Lightning prologuising to Bayes' tragedy [(<i>vide +The Rehearsal</i>), <i>British Bards</i>], unfortunately takes +away the merit of originality from the dialogue between Messieurs +the Spirits of Flood and Fell in the first canto. Then we have +the amiable William of Deloraine, "a stark moss-trooper," +<i>videlicet</i>, a happy compound of poacher, sheep-stealer, and +highwayman. The propriety of his magical lady's injunction not to +read can only be equalled by his candid acknowledgment of his +independence of the trammels of spelling, although, to use his +own elegant phrase, "'twas his neckverse at Harribee," <i>i. +e.</i> the gallows.<br> +<br> +The biography of Gilpin Horner, and the marvellous pedestrian +page, who travelled twice as fast as his master's horse, without +the aid of seven-leagued boots, are <i>chefs d'oeuvre</i> in the +improvement of taste. For incident we have the invisible, but by +no means sparing box on the ear bestowed on the page, and the +entrance of a Knight and Charger into the castle, under the very +natural disguise of a wain of hay. Marmion, the hero of the +latter romance, is exactly what William of Deloraine would have +been, had he been able to read and write. The poem was +manufactured for Messrs. <b>Constable</b>, <b>Murray</b>, and +<b>Miller</b>, worshipful Booksellers, in consideration of the +receipt of a sum of money; and truly, considering the +inspiration, it is a very creditable production. If Mr. +<b>Scott</b> will write for hire, let him do his best for his +paymasters, but not disgrace his genius, which is undoubtedly +great, by a repetition of Black-Letter Ballad imitations.<br> +<br> +[Constable paid Scott a thousand pounds for <i>Marmion</i>, and + +<blockquote>"offered one fourth of the copyright to Mr. Miller of +Albemarle Street, and one fourth to Mr. Murray of Fleet Street +(see line 173). Both publishers eagerly accepted the +proposal."<br> +...<br> +"A severe and unjust review of <i>Marmion</i> by Jeffrey appeared +in [the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> for April] 1808, accusing Scott +of a mercenary spirit in writing for money.<br> + ...<br> +Scott was much nettled by these observations"</blockquote> + +(<i>Memoirs of John Murray</i>, i. 76, 95). In his diary of 1813 +Byron wrote of Scott, + +<blockquote>"He is undoubtedly the Monarch of Parnassus, and the +most <i>English</i> of Bards."</blockquote> + +--<i>Life</i>, p. 206.]<br> +<a href="#fr520">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f549"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote w:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>In many marble-covered volumes view<br> + Hayley, in vain attempting something new,<br> + Whether he spin his comedies in rhyme,<br> + Or scrawls as Wood and Barclay<a href="#f733"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> walk, 'gainst +Time....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<br> + <a name="f733"></a><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp; Captain Robert Barclay (1779-1854) of Ury, +agriculturalist and pedestrian, came of a family noted for +physical strength and endurance. Byron saw him win his walk +against Wood at Newmarket. (See Angelo's <i>Reminiscences</i> +(1837), vol. ii. pp. 37-44.) In July, 1809, Barclay completed his +task of walking a thousand miles in a thousand hours, at the rate +of one mile in each and every hour. (See, too, for an account of +Barclay, <i>The Eccentric Review</i> (1812), i. 133-150.)<br> +<a href="#fr549">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f521"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 23:</span></a> Ý It was the suggestion +of the Countess of Dalkeith, that Scott should write a ballad on +the old border legend of <i>Gilpin Horner</i>, which first gave +shape to the poet's ideas, and led to the <i>Lay of the Last +Minstrel</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr521">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f554"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote x:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Breaks into mawkish lines each holy +Book...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First Edition.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr554">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f523"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 24:</span></a> Ý In his strictures on +Scott and Southey, Byron takes his lead from Lady Anne Hamilton's +(1766-1846, daughter of Archibald, ninth Duke of Hamilton, and +Lady-in-waiting to Caroline of Brunswick) <i>Epics of the Ton</i> +(1807), a work which has not shared the dubious celebrity of her +<i>Secret Memories of the Court</i>, etc. (1832). Compare the +following lines (p. 9):-- + +<blockquote>"Then still might Southey sing his crazy Joan,<br> + Or feign a Welshman o'er the Atlantic flown,<br> + Or tell of Thalaba the wondrous matter,<br> + Or with clown Wordsworth, chatter, chatter, chatter.<br> + ...<br> + Good-natured Scott rehearse, in well-paid lays,<br> + The marv'lous chiefs and elves of other days."</blockquote> + +(For Scott's reference to "my share of flagellation among my +betters," and an explicit statement that he had remonstrated with +Jeffrey against the "offensive criticism" of <i>Hours of +Idleness</i>, because he thought it treated with undue severity, +see Introduction to <i>Marmion</i>, 1830.)<br> +<a href="#fr523">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f555"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote y:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Thy "Sympathy" that...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr555">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f524"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 25:</span></a> ÝLines 179, 180, in the +Fifth Edition, were substituted for variant i. p. 3l2.--<i>Leigh +Hunt's annotated Copy of the Fourth Edition</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr524">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f556"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote z:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And shows dissolved in sympathetic tears.<br> + ----in thine own melting tears...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First to Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr556">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f526"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 26:</span></a> Ý "Good night to +Marmion"--the pathetic and also prophetic exclamation of Henry +Blount, Esquire, on the death of honest Marmion.<br> +<a href="#fr526">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f558"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote A:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Whether in sighing winds them seek'st relief<br> + Or Consolation in a yellow leaf...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. first to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr558">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f527"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 27:</span></a> ÝAs the <i>Odyssey</i> +is so closely connected with the story of the <i>Iliad</i>, they +may almost be classed as one grand historical poem. In alluding +to Milton and Tasso, we consider the <i>Paradise Lost</i> and +<i>Gerusalemme Liberata</i> as their standard efforts; since +neither the <i>Jerusalem Conquered</i> of the Italian, nor the +<i>Paradise Regained</i> of the English bard, obtained a +proportionate celebrity to their former poems. Query: Which of +Mr. Southey's will survive?<br> +<a href="#fr527">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f559"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote B:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>What pretty sounds...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr559">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f529"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 28:</span></a> Ý <i>Thalaba</i>, Mr. +Southey's second poem, is written in defiance of precedent and +poetry. Mr. S. wished to produce something novel, and succeeded +to a miracle. <i>Joan of Arc</i> was marvellous enough, but +<i>Thalaba</i> was one of those poems "which," in the word of +<b>Porson</b>, + +<blockquote>"will be read when Homer and Virgil are forgotten, +but--<i>not till then</i>."</blockquote> + +["Of <i>Thalaba</i> the wild and wondrous song"--Proem to +<i>Madoc</i>, Southey's <i>Poetical Works</i> (1838), vol. v. +<i>Joan of Arc</i> was published in 1796, <i>Thalaba the +Destroyer</i> in 1801, and <i>Madoc</i> in 1805.]<br> +<a href="#fr529">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f560"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote C:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Thou fain woulds't----</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr560">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f530"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 29:</span></a> ÝThe hero of Fielding's +farce, <i>The Tragedy of Tragedies</i>, <i>or the Life and Death +of Tom Thumb the Great</i>, first played in 1730 at the +Haymarket.<br> +<a href="#fr530">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f561"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote D:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But to soft themes...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards, First Edition</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr561">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f531"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 30:</span></a> ÝSouthey's <i>Madoc</i> +is divided into two parts--Part I., "Madoc in Wales;" Part II., +"Madoc in Aztlan." The word "cacique" ("Cacique or cazique... a +native chief or 'prince' of the aborigines in the West Indies:" +<i>New Engl. Dict</i>., Art. "Cacique") occurs in the +translations of Spanish writers quoted by Southey in his notes, +but not in the text of the poem.<br> +<a href="#fr531">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f564"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote E:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The Bard has wove...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr564">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f532"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 31:</span></a> Ý We beg Mr. Southey's +pardon: "Madoc disdains the degraded title of Epic." See his +Preface. ["It assumes not the degraded title of Epic."--Preface +to <i>Madoc</i> (1805), Southey's <i>Poetical Works</i> (1838), +vol. v. p. xxi.] Why is Epic degraded? and by whom? Certainly the +late Romaunts of Masters Cottle, Laureat Pye, Ogilvy, Hole<a +href="#f734"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>, and gentle Mistress +Cowley, have not exalted the Epic Muse; but, as Mr. +<b>Southey's</b> poem "disdains the appellation," allow us to +ask--has he substituted anything better in its stead? or must he +be content to rival Sir <b>Richard Blackmore</b> in the quantity +as well as quality of his verse?<br> +<br> +<a name="f734"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> For "Hole," the <i>MS</i>. and <i>British +Bards</i> read "Sir J. B. Burgess; Cumberland."<br> +<a href="#fr532">return to poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f565"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote F:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>If Pope, since mortal, not untaught to err<br> + Again demand a dull biographer...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr565">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f533"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 32:</span></a> Ý See <i>The Old Woman +of Berkeley</i>, a ballad by Mr. Southey, wherein an aged +gentlewoman is carried away by Beelzebub, on a "high trotting +horse."<br> +<a href="#fr533">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f571"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote G:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Too much in Turtle Bristol's sons delight<br> + Too much in Bowls of Rack prolong the night....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Second to Fourth Editions.</i>] + +<blockquote><i>Too much o'er Bowls...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Second and Third Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr571">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f534"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 33:</span></a> Ý The last line, "God +help thee," is an evident plagiarism from the <i>Anti-Jacobin</i> +to Mr. Southey, on his Dactylics:-- + +<blockquote>"God help thee, silly one!"</blockquote> + +<i>Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin</i>, p. 23.<br> +<a href="#fr534">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f575"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote H:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And yet why...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr575">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f535"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 34:</span></a> Ý In the annotated copy +of the Fourth Edition Byron has drawn a line down the margin of +the passage on Wordsworth, lines 236-248, and adds the word +"Unjust." The first four lines on Coleridge (lines 255-258) are +also marked "Unjust." The recantation is, no doubt, intended to +apply to both passages from beginning to end. +"<i>Unjust</i>."--B., 1816. (See also Byron's letter to S. T. +Coleridge, March 31, 1815.)<br> +<a href="#fr535">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f576"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote J:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Or old or young...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr576">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f536"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 35:</span></a> Ý<i>Lyrical +Ballads</i>, p. 4.--"The Tables Turned," Stanza 1. + +<blockquote>"Up, up, my friend, and clear your looks,<br> + Why all this toil and trouble?<br> + Up, up, my friend, and quit your books,<br> + Or surely you'll grow double."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr536">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f581"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote K:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>yes, I'm sure all may...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Quarto Proof Sheet</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr581">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f537"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote: 36</span></a> ÝMr. W. in his preface +labours hard to prove, that prose and verse are much the same; +and certainly his precepts and practice are strictly +conformable:-- + +<blockquote>"And thus to Betty's questions he<br> + Made answer, like a traveller bold.<br> + 'The cock did crow, to-whoo, to-whoo,<br> + And the sun did shine so cold.'"</blockquote> + +<i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, p. 179.<br> +[Compare <i>The Simpliciad</i>, II. 295-305, and <i>note</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr537">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f592"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote M:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>While Cloacina's holy pontiff Lambe<a href= +"#f735"><span style="color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a><br> + As he himself was damned shall try to damn...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<br> + <a name="f735"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> We have heard of persons who "when the +Bagpipe sings in the nose cannot contain their urine for +affection," but Mr. L. carries it a step further than +Shakespeare's diuretic amateurs, being notorious at school and +college for his inability to contain--anything. We do not know to +what "Pipe" to attribute this additional effect, but the fact is +uncontrovertible.--[<i>Note</i> to Quarto Proof bound up with +<i>British Bards</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr592">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f538"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote: 37</span></a> Ý "He has not published +for some years."--<i>British Bards</i>. (A marginal note in +pencil.)<br> +[Coleridge's <i>Poems</i> (3rd edit.) appeared in 1803; the first +number of <i>The Friend</i> on June 1, 1809.]<br> +<a href="#fr538">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f599"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote N:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Lo! long beneath_...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr599">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f539"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 38:</span></a> Ý <b>Coleridge's</b> +<i>Poems</i>, p. 11, "Songs of the Pixies," <i>i. e.</i> +Devonshire Fairies; p. 42, we have "Lines to a Young Lady;" and, +p. 52, "Lines to a Young Ass."<br> +[Compare <i>The Simpliciad</i>, ll. 211, 213-- + +<blockquote>"Then in despite of scornful Folly's pother,<br> + Ask him to live with you and hail him brother."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr539">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f601"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote P:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And grateful to the founder of the feast<br> + Declare his landlord can translate at least...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards. First to Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr601">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f542"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 39:</span></a> Ý Matthew Gregory Lewis +(1775-1818), known as "Monk" Lewis, was the son of a rich Jamaica +planter. During a six months' visit to Weimar (1792-3), when he +was introduced to Goethe, he applied himself to the study of +German literature, especially novels and the drama. In 1794 he +was appointed <i>attaché</i> to the Embassy at the Hague, +and in the course of ten weeks wrote <i>Ambrosio, or The +Monk</i>, which was published in 1795. In 1798 he made the +acquaintance of Scott, and procured his promise of co-operation +in his contemplated <i>Tales of Terror</i>. In the same year he +published the <i>Castle Spectre</i> (first played at Drury Lane, +Dec. 14, 1797), in which, to quote the postscript "To the +Reader," he meant (but Sheridan interposed) "to have exhibited a +whole regiment of Ghosts." <i>Tales of Terror</i> were printed at +Weybridge in 1801, and two or three editions of <i>Tales of +Wonder</i>, to which Byron refers, came out in the same year. +Lewis borrowed so freely from all sources that the collection was +called "Tales of Plunder." In the first edition (two vols., +printed by W. Bulmer for the author, 1801) the first eighteen +poems, with the exception of <i>The Fire King</i> (xii.) by +Walter Scott, are by Lewis, either original or translated. Scott +also contributed <i>Glenfinlas, The Eve of St. John, Frederick +and Alice, The Wild Huntsmen (Der Wilde Jäger)</i>. Southey +contributed six poems, including <i>The Old Woman of Berkeley</i> +(xxiv.). <i>The Little Grey Man</i> (xix.) is by H. Bunbury. The +second volume is made up from Burns, Gray, Parnell, Glover, +Percy's <i>Reliques</i>, and other sources.<br> +<br> +A second edition, published in 1801, which consists of thirty-two +ballads (Southey's are not included), advertises "<i>Tales of +Terror</i> printed uniform with this edition of <i>Tales of +Wonder</i>." <i>Romantic Tales</i>, in four volumes, appeared in +1808. Of his other works, <i>The Captive, A Monodrama</i>, was +played in 1803; the <i>Bravo of Venice, A Translation from the +German</i>, in 1804; and <i>Timour the Tartar</i> in 1811. His +<i>Journal of a West Indian Proprietor</i> was not published till +1834. He sat as M.P. for Hindon (1796-1802).<br> +<br> +He had been a favourite in society before Byron appeared on the +scene, but there is no record of any intimacy or acquaintance +before 1813. When Byron was living at Geneva, Lewis visited the +Maison Diodati in August, 1816, on which occasion he "translated +to him Goethe's <i>Faust</i> by word of mouth," and drew up a +codicil to his will, witnessed by Byron, Shelley, and Polidori, +which contained certain humane provisions for the well-being of +the negroes on his Jamaica estates. He also visited him at <i>La +Mira</i> in August, 1817. Byron wrote of him after his death: + +<blockquote>"He was a good man, and a clever one, but he was a +bore, a damned bore--one may say. But I liked him."</blockquote> + +To judge from his letters to his mother and other evidence +(Scott's testimony, for instance), he was a kindly, +well-intentioned man, but lacking in humour. When his father +condemned the indecency of the <i>Monk</i>, he assured him "that +he had not the slightest idea that what he was then writing could +injure the principles of any human being." "He was," said Byron, +"too great a bore to lie," and the plea is evidently offered in +good faith. As a writer, he is memorable chiefly for his +sponsorship of German literature. Scott said of him that he had +the finest ear for rhythm he ever met with--finer than Byron's; +and Coleridge, in a letter to Wordsworth, Jan., 1798 (<i>Letters +of S. T. C.</i> (1895), i. 237), and again in <i>Table Talk</i> +for March 20, 1834, commends his verses. Certainly his ballad of +"Crazy Jane," once so famous that ladies took to wearing "Crazy +Jane" hats, is of the nature of poetry. (See <i>Life</i>, 349, +362, 491, etc.; <i>Life and Correspondence</i> of M. G. Lewis +(1839), i. 158, etc.; <i>Life of Scott</i>, by J. G. Lockhart +(1842), pp. 80-83, 94.)<br> +<a href="#fr542">return</a><br> +<a href="#f519">cross-reference: return to Footnote 21 of this +poem</a><br> +<a href="#f808">cross-reference: return to Footnote 22 of +<i>Hints from Horace</i></a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f603"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Q:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>--are fed because they write...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr603">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f544"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 40:</span></a> Ý "For every one knows +little Matt's an M.P."--See a poem to Mr. Lewis, in <i>The +Statesman</i>, supposed to be written by Mr. Jekyll.<br> +<br> +[Joseph Jekyll (d. 1837) was celebrated for his witticisms and +metrical <i>jeux d'esprit</i> which he contributed to the +<i>Morning Chronicle</i> and the <i>Evening Statesman</i>. His +election as M.P. for Calne in 1787, at the nomination of Lord +Lansdowne, gave rise to <i>Jekyll, A Political Eclogue</i> (see +<i>The Rottiad</i> (1799), pp. 219-224). He was a favourite with +the Prince Regent, at whose instance he was appointed a Master in +Chancery in 1815.]<br> +<a href="#fr544">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f606"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote R:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Princes in Barrels, Counts in arbours +pent...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr606">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f546"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 41:</span></a> Ý The reader, who may +wish for an explanation of this, may refer to "Strangford's +Camoëns," p. 127, note to p. 56, or to the last page of the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i> of Strangford's Camoëns.<br> +<br> +[Percy Clinton Sydney Smythe, sixth Viscount Strangford +(1780-1855), published <i>Translations from the Portuguese by +Luis de Camoens</i> in 1803. The note to which Byron refers is on +the canzonet <i>Naö sei quem assella</i>, "Thou hast an eye +of tender blue." It runs thus: + +<blockquote>"Locks of auburn and eyes of blue have ever been dear +to the sons of song.... Sterne even considers them as indicative +of qualities the most amiable.... The Translator does not wish to +deem ... this unfounded. He is, however, aware of the danger to +which such a confession exposes him--but he flies for protection +to the temple of <b>Aurea Venus</b>."</blockquote> + +It may be added that Byron's own locks were auburn, and his eyes +a greyish-blue.]<br> +<a href="#fr546">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f610"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote S:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>His "damme, poohs."...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First Edition</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr610">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f548"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 42:</span></a> Ý It is also to be +remarked, that the things given to the public as poems of +Camoëns are no more to be found in the original Portuguese, +than in the Song of Solomon.<br> +<a href="#fr548">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f612"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote T:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>While Kenny's World just suffered to proceed +Proclaims the audience very kind indeed...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards. First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr612">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f550"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 43:</span></a> Ý See his various +Biographies of defunct Painters, etc. [William Hayley (1745-1820) +published <i>The Triumphs of Temper</i> in 1781, and <i>The +Triumph of Music</i> in 1804. His biography of Milton appeared in +1796, of Cowper in 1803-4, of Romney in 1809. He had produced, +among other plays, <i>The Happy Prescription</i> and <i>The Two +Connoisseurs</i> in 1784. In 1808 he would be regarded as out of +date, "hobbling on" behind younger rivals in the race (see E.B., +I. 923). For his life and works, see Southey's article in the +<i>Quarterly Review</i> (vol. xxxi. p. 263). The appeal to +"tarts" to "spare the text," is possibly an echo of <i>The +Dunciad</i>, i. 155, 156-- + +<blockquote>"Of these twelve volumes, twelve of amplest size,<br> + Redeemed from topers and defrauded pies."</blockquote> + +The meaning of the appeal is fixed by such a passage as this from +<i>The Blues</i>, where the company discuss Wordsworth's +appointment to a Collectorship of Stamps-- + +<blockquote>"<i>Inkle</i>. I shall think of him oft when I buy a +new hat;<br> + There his works will appear.<br> +<br> + <i>Lady Bluemount</i>. Sir, they reach to the Ganges.<br> +<br> + <i>Inkle</i>. I sha'n't go so far. I can have them at +Grange's."</blockquote> + +Grange's was a well-known pastry-cook's in Piccadilly. In Pierce +Egan's <i>Life in London</i> (ed. 1821), p. 70, <i>note</i> 1, +the author writes, + +<blockquote>"As I sincerely hope that this work will shrink from +the touch of a pastry-cook, and also avoid the foul uses of a +trunk-maker,... I feel induced now to describe, for the benefit +of posterity, the pedigree of a Dandy in 1820."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr550">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f551"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 44:</span></a> Ý Hayley's two most +notorious verse productions are <i>Triumphs of Temper</i> and +<i>The Triumph of Music</i>. He has also written much Comedy in +rhyme, Epistles, etc., etc. As he is rather an elegant writer of +notes and biography, let us recommend <b>Pope's</b> advice to +<b>Wycherley</b> to Mr. H.'s consideration, viz., "to convert +poetry into prose," which may be easily done by taking away the +final syllable of each couplet.<br> +<a href="#fr551">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f616"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote V:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Resume her throne again..</i>.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards. First to Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr616">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f552"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 45:</span></a> Ý Lines 319-326 do not +form part of the original <i>MS</i>. A slip of paper which +contains a fair copy of the lines in Byron's handwriting has +been, with other fragments, bound up with Dallas's copy of +<i>British Bards</i>. In the <i>MS</i>. this place is taken by a +passage and its pendant note, which Byron omitted at the request +of Dallas, who was a friend of Pratt's:-- + +<blockquote>"In verse most stale, unprofitable, flat--<br> + Come, let us change the scene, and '<i>glean</i>' with +Pratt;<br> + In him an author's luckless lot behold,<br> + Condemned to make the books which once he sold:<br> + Degraded man! again resume thy trade--<br> + The votaries of the Muse are ill repaid,<br> + Though daily puffs once more invite to buy<br> + A new edition of thy 'Sympathy.'"</blockquote> + +"Mr. Pratt, once a Bath bookseller, now a London author, has +written as much, to as little purpose, as any of his scribbling +contemporaries. Mr. P.'s <i>Sympathy</i> is in rhyme; but his +prose productions are the most voluminous."<br> +<br> +Samuel Jackson Pratt (1749-1814), actor, itinerant lecturer, poet +of the Cruscan school, tragedian, and novelist, published a large +number of volumes. His <i>Gleanings</i> in England, Holland, +Wales, and Westphalia attained some reputation. His <i>Sympathy; +a Poem</i> (1788) passed through several editions. His pseudonym +was Courtney Melmoth. He was a patron of the cobbler-poet, +Blacket<br> +<a href="#fr552">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f619"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote W:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>and Kemble lives to tread</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards. First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr619">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f553"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 46:</span></a> Ý Mr. Grahame has +poured forth two volumes of Cant, under the name of <i>Sabbath +Walks</i> and <i>Biblical Pictures</i>.<br> +[James Grahame (1765-1811), a lawyer, who subsequently took Holy +Orders. <i>The Sabbath</i>, a poem, was published anonymously in +1804; and to a second edition were added <i>Sabbath Walks</i>. +<i>Biblical Pictures</i> appeared in 1807.]<br> +<a href="#fr553">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f624"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote X:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>St. George<a href="#f736"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> and Goody Goose divide +the prize...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. alternative in British Bards.</i>]<br> +<br> + <a name="f736"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> We need not inform the reader that we do not +allude to the Champion of England who slew the Dragon. Our St. +George is content to draw status with a very different kind of +animal.--[Pencil note to <i>British Bards</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr624">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f557"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 47:</span></a> Ý The Rev. W. Lisle +Bowles (1768-1850). His edition of Pope's <i>Works</i>, in ten +vols., which stirred Byron's gall, appeared in 1807. The <i>Fall +of Empires</i>, Tyre, Carthage, etc., is the subject of part of +the third book of <i>The Spirit of Discovery by Sea</i> (1805). +Lines "To a Withered Leaf," are, perhaps, of later date; but the +"sear tresses" and "shivering leaves" of "Autumn's gradual gloom" +are familiar images in his earlier poems. Byron's senior by +twenty years, he was destined to outlive him by more than a +quarter of a century; but when <i>English Bards, etc.</i>, was in +progress, he was little more than middle-aged, and the "three +score years" must have been written in the spirit of prophecy. As +it chanced, the last word rested with him, and it was a generous +one. Addressing Moore, in 1824, he says (<i>Childe Harold's Last +Pilgrimage</i>)-- + +<blockquote>"So Harold ends, in Greece, his pilgrimage!<br> + There fitly ending--in that land renown'd,<br> + Whose mighty Genius lives in Glory's page,--<br> + He on the Muses' consecrated ground,<br> + Sinking to rest, while his young brows are bound<br> + With their unfading wreath!"</blockquote> + +Among his poems are a "Sonnet to Oxford," and "Stanzas on hearing +the Bells of Ostend."<br> +<a href="#fr557">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f626"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Y:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Its humble flight to splendid +Pantomimes...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards. MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr626">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f562"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 48:</span></a> Ý "Awake a louder," +etc., is the first line in <b>Bowles's</b> <i>Spirit of +Discovery</i>: a very spirited and pretty dwarf Epic. Among other +exquisite lines we have the following:-- + +<blockquote>----"A kiss<br> + Stole on the list'ning silence, never yet<br> + Here heard; they trembled even as if the power," etc., +etc.</blockquote> + +That is, the woods of Madeira trembled to a kiss; very much +astonished, as well they might be, at such a phenomenon. + +<blockquote>"Mis-quoted and misunderstood by me; but not +intentionally. It was not the 'woods,' but the people in them who +trembled--why, Heaven only knows--unless they were overheard +making this prodigious smack."</blockquote> + +(B., 1816.)<br> +<a href="#fr562">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f632"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Z:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Behold the new Petronius of the times<br> + The skilful Arbiter of modern crimes....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr632">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f563"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 49:</span></a> Ý The episode above +alluded to is the story of "Robert à Machin" and "Anna +d'Arfet," a pair of constant lovers, who performed the kiss above +mentioned, that startled the woods of Madeira.<br> +[See Byron's letter to Murray, Feb. 7, 1821, "On Bowies' +Strictures," <i>Life</i>, p. 688.]<br> +<a href="#fr563">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f635"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Aa:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>a Paget for your wife...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First to Fourth Editions.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr635">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f566"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 50:</span></a> Ý<b>Curll</b> is one of +the Heroes of the <i>Dunciad</i>, and was a bookseller. Lord +Fanny is the poetical name of Lord <b>Hervey</b>, author of +<i>Lines to the Imitator of Horace</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr566">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f641"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Bb:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>From Grosvenor Place or Square...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr641">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f567"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 51:</span></a> Ý Lord +<b>Bolingbroke</b> hired <b>Mallet</b> to traduce <b>Pope</b> +after his decease, because the poet had retained some copies of a +work by Lord Bolingbroke--the "Patriot King,"--which that +splendid, but malignant genius had ordered to be destroyed.<br> +<a href="#fr567">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f648"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Cc:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>On one alone Apollo deigns to smile<br> + And crowns a new Roscommon in Carlisle....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Addition to British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr648">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f568"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 52:</span></a> Ý Dennis the critic, +and Ralph the rhymester:-- + +<blockquote>"Silence, ye Wolves! while Ralph to Cynthia +howls,<br> + Making Night hideous: answer him, ye owls!"<br> +<br> + <i>Dunciad</i>.</blockquote> + +[Book III. II. 165, 166, Pope wrote, "And makes night," etc.]<br> +<a href="#fr568">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f650"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Dd:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Yet at their fiat----<br> + Yet at their nausea----...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr650">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f569"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 53:</span></a> Ý See Bowles's late +edition of Pope's works, for which he received three hundred +pounds. [Twelve hundred guineas.--<i>British Bards</i>.] Thus Mr. +B. has experienced how much easier it is to profit by the +reputation of another, than to elevate his own.<br> +<br> +["Too savage all this on Bowles," wrote Byron, in 1816, but he +afterwards returned to his original sentiments. "Although," he +says (Feb. 7, 1821), "I regret having published <i>English Bards, +and Scotch Reviewers</i>, the part which I regret the least is +that which regards Mr. Bowles, with reference to Pope. Whilst I +was writing that publication, in 1807 and 1808, Mr. Hobhouse was +desirous that I should express our mutual opinion of Pope, and of +Mr. Bowles's edition of his works. As I had completed my outline, +and felt lazy, I requested that <i>he</i> would do so. He did it. +His fourteen lines on Bowles's Pope are in the first edition of +<i>English Bards</i>, and are quite as severe, and much more +poetical, than my own, in the second. On reprinting the work, as +I put my name to it, I omitted Mr. Hobhouse's lines, by which the +work gained less than Mr. Bowles.... I am grieved to say that, in +reading over those lines, I repent of their having so far fallen +short of what I meant to express upon the subject of his edition +of Pope's works" (<i>Life</i>, pp. 688, 689). The lines supplied +by Hobhouse are here subjoined:-- + +<blockquote>"Stick to thy sonnets, man!--at least they sell.<br> + Or take the only path that open lies<br> + For modern worthies who would hope to rise:<br> + Fix on some well-known name, and, bit by bit,<br> + Pare off the merits of his worth and wit:<br> + On each alike employ the critic's knife,<br> + And when a comment fails, prefix a life;<br> + Hint certain failings, faults before unknown,<br> + Review forgotten lies, and add your own;<br> + Let no disease, let no misfortune 'scape,<br> + And print, if luckily deformed, his shape:<br> + Thus shall the world, quite undeceived at last,<br> + Cleave to their present wits, and quit their past;<br> + Bards once revered no more with favour view,<br> + But give their modern sonneteers their due;<br> + Thus with the dead may living merit cope,<br> + Thus Bowles may triumph o'er the shade of Pope."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr569">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f654"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ee:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Such sneering fame....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr654">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f570"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 54:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"'Helicon' is a mountain, and not a fish-pond. It +should have been 'Hippocrene.'"--B., 1816.</blockquote> + +[The correction was made in the Fifth Edition.]<br> +<a href="#fr570">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f657"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ff:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Though Bell has lost his nightingales and +owls,<br> + Matilda snivels still and Hafiz howls,<br> + And Crusca's spirit rising from the dead<br> + Revives in Laura, Quiz, and X. Y. Z.<...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards. First to Third Editions</i>, 1810]<br> +<a href="#fr657">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f572"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 55:</span></a> Ý Mr. Cottle, Amos, +Joseph, I don't know which, but one or both, once sellers of +books they did not write, and now writers of books they do not +sell, have published a pair of Epics--<i>Alfred</i> (poor Alfred! +Pye has been at him too!)--<i>Alfred</i> and the <i>Fall of +Cambria</i>. + +<blockquote>"All right. I saw some letters of this fellow (Jh. +Cottle) to an unfortunate poetess, whose productions, which the +poor woman by no means thought vainly of, he attacked so roughly +and bitterly, that I could hardly regret assailing him, even were +it unjust, which it is not--for verily he is an ass."--B., +1816.</blockquote> + +[Compare <i>Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin</i>-- + +<blockquote>"And Cottle, not he whom that Alfred made famous,<br> + But Joseph of Bristol, the brother of Amos."</blockquote> + +The identity of the brothers Cottle appears to have been a matter +beneath the notice both of the authors of the <i>Anti-Jacobin</i> +and of Byron. Amos Cottle, who died in 1800 (see Lamb's Letter to +Coleridge of Oct. 9, 1800; <i>Letters of C. Lamb</i>, 1888, i. +140), was the author of a <i>Translation of the Edda of +Soemund</i>, published in 1797. Joseph Cottle, <i>inter alia</i>, +published <i>Alfred</i> in 1801, and <i>The Fall of Cambria</i>, +1807. An <i>Expostulatory Epistle</i>, in which Joseph avenges +Amos and solemnly castigates the author of <i>Don Juan</i>, was +issued in 1819 (see Lamb's Letter to Cottle, Nov. 5, 1819), and +was reprinted in the Memoir of Amos Cottle, inserted in his +brother's <i>Early Recollections of Coleridge</i> (London, 1837, +i. 119). The "unfortunate poetess" was, probably, Ann Yearsley, +the Bristol milk-woman. Wordsworth, too (see <i>Recollections of +the Table-Talk of S. Rogers</i>, 1856, p. 235), dissuaded her +from publishing her poems. Roughness and bitterness were not +among Cottle's faults or foibles, and it is possible that Byron +misconceived the purport of the correspondence.]<br> +<a href="#fr572">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f664"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Gg:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>None since the past have claimed the tribute +due...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards. MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr664">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f573"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 56:</span></a> Ý Mr. Maurice hath +manufactured the component parts of a ponderous quarto, upon the +beauties of "Richmond Hill," and the like:--it also takes in a +charming view of Turnham Green, Hammersmith, Brentford, Old and +New, and the parts adjacent. [The Rev. Thomas Maurice (1754-1824) +had this at least in common with Byron--that his <i>History of +Ancient and Modern Hindostan</i> was severely attacked in the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i>. He published a vindication of his work +in 1805. He must have confined his dulness to his poems +(<i>Richmond Hill</i> (1807), etc.), for his <i>Memoirs</i> +(1819) are amusing, and, though otherwise blameless, he left +behind him the reputation of an "indiscriminate enjoyment" of +literary and other society. Lady Anne Hamilton alludes to him in +<i>Epics of the Ton</i> (1807), p. 165-- + +<blockquote>"Or warmed like Maurice by Museum fire,<br> + From Ganges dragged a hurdy-gurdy lyre."</blockquote> + +He was assistant keeper of MSS. at the British Museum from 1799 +till his death.<br> +<a href="#fr573">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f666"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Hh:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>From Albion's cliffs to Caledonia's coast.<br> + Some few who know to write as well as feel...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr666">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f574"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 57:</span></a> Ý Poor +<b>Montgomery</b>, though praised by every English Review, has +been bitterly reviled by the <i>Edinburgh</i>. After all, the +Bard of Sheffield is a man of considerable genius. His +<i>Wanderer of Switzerland</i> is worth a thousand <i>Lyrical +Ballads</i>, and at least fifty <i>Degraded Epics</i>.<br> +<br> +[James Montgomery (1771-1854) was born in Ayrshire, but settled +at Sheffield, where he edited a newspaper, the <i>Iris</i>, a +radical print, which brought him into conflict with the +authorities. His early poems were held up to ridicule in the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i> by Jeffrey, in Jan. 1807. It was probably +the following passage which provoked Byron's note: + +<blockquote>"When every day is bringing forth some new work from +the pen of Scott, Campbell,... Wordsworth, and Southey, it is +natural to feel some disgust at the undistinguishing voracity +which can swallow down these... verses to a pillow."</blockquote> + +The <i>Wanderer of Switzerland</i>, which Byron said he preferred +to the <i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, was published in 1806. The +allusion in line 419 is to the first stanza of <i>The Lyre</i>-- + +<blockquote>"Where the roving rill meand'red<br> + Down the green, retiring vale,<br> + Poor, forlorn Alcæus wandered,<br> + Pale with thoughts--serenely pale."</blockquote> + +He is remembered chiefly as the writer of some admirable +hymns.<br> +(<i>Vide ante</i>, p. 107, <a href="#section50">Answer to a +Beautiful Poem</a>, and <a href="#f242"><i>note</i></a>.)]<br> +<a href="#fr574">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f673"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Jj:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The spoiler came; and all thy promise fair<br> + Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever +there....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr673">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f577"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 58:</span></a> Ý Arthur's Seat; the +hill which overhangs Edinburgh.<br> + <a href="#fr577">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f676"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Kk:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>On him may meritorious honours tend<br> + While doubly mingling,...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr676">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f578"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 59:</span></a> Ý Lines 439-527 are not +in the <i>MS.</i> The first draft of the passage on Jeffrey, +which appears to have found a place in <i>British Bards</i> and +to have been afterwards cut out, runs as follows:-- + +<blockquote>"Who has not heard in this enlightened age,<br> + When all can criticise the historic page,<br> + Who has not heard in James's Bigot Reign<br> + Of Jefferies! monarch of the scourge, and chain,<br> + Jefferies the wretch whose pestilential breath,<br> + Like the dread Simoom, winged the shaft of Death;<br> + The old, the young to Fate remorseless gave<br> + Nor spared one victim from the common grave?<br> +<br> + "Such was the Judge of James's iron time,<br> + When Law was Murder, Mercy was a crime,<br> + Till from his throne by weary millions hurled<br> + The Despot roamed in Exile through the world.<br> +<br> + "Years have rolled on;--in all the lists of Shame,<br> + Who now can parallel a Jefferies' name?<br> + With hand less mighty, but with heart as black<br> + With voice as willing to decree the Rack,<br> + With tongue envenomed, with intentions foul<br> + The same in name and character and soul."</blockquote> + +The first four lines of the above, which have been erased, are to +be found on p. 16 of <i>British Bards.</i> Pages 17, 18, are +wanting, and quarto proofs of lines 438-527 have been inserted. +Lines 528-539 appear for the first time in the Fifth Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr578">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f679"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Mm:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And you united Bards...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Addition to British Bards</i>] + +<blockquote><i>And you ye nameless...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. erased.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr679">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f579"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 60:</span></a> Ý "Too ferocious--this +is mere insanity."--B., 1816. [The comment applies to lines +432-453.]<br> +<a href="#fr579">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f680"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Nn:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Translation's servile work at length disown<br> + And quit Achaia's Muse to court your own...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Addition to British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr680">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f580"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 61:</span></a> Ý "All this is bad, +because personal."--B., 1816.<br> + <a href="#fr580">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f681"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Pp:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Let these arise and anxious of +applause...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards. MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr681">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f582"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 62:</span></a> Ý In 1806, Messrs. +Jeffrey and Moore met at Chalk Farm. The duel was prevented by +the interference of the Magistracy; and on examination, the balls +of the pistols were found to have evaporated. This incident gave +occasion to much waggery in the daily prints. [The first four +editions read, "the balls of the pistols, like the courage of the +combatants."]<br> +<br> +[The following disclaimer to the foregoing note appears in the +MS. in Leigh Hunt's copy of the Fourth Edition, 1811. It was +first printed in the Fifth Edition:--] + +<blockquote>"I am informed that Mr. Moore published at the time a +disavowal of the statements in the newspapers, as far as regarded +himself; and, in justice to him, I mention this circumstance. As +I never heard of it before, I cannot state the particulars, and +was only made acquainted with the fact very lately. November 4, +1811."</blockquote> + +[As a matter of fact, it was Jeffrey's pistol that was found to +be leadless.]<br> +<a href="#fr582">return</a><br> +<a href="#f386">cross-reference: return to footnote of lines "To +the Earl of Clare</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f683"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Qq:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But not in heavy...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards. MS</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr683">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f583"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 63:</span></a> Ý The Tweed here +behaved with proper decorum; it would have been highly +reprehensible in the English half of the river to have shown the +smallest symptom of apprehension.<br> +<a href="#fr583">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f688"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Rr:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Let prurient Southey cease...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr688">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f584"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 64:</span></a> Ý This display of +sympathy on the part of the Tolbooth (the principal prison in +Edinburgh), which truly seems to have been most affected on this +occasion, is much to be commended. It was to be apprehended, that +the many unhappy criminals executed in the front might have +rendered the Edifice more callous. She is said to be of the +softer sex, because her delicacy of feeling on this day was truly +feminine, though, like most feminine impulses, perhaps a little +selfish.<br> +<a href="#fr584">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f690"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ss:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>still the babe at nurse...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>] + +<blockquote>Let Lewis jilt our nurseries with alarm<br> + With tales that oft disgust and never charm</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr690">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f585"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 65:</span></a> ÝLine 508. For "oat-fed +phalanx," the Quarto Proof and Editions 1-4 read "ranks +illustrious." The correction is made in <i>MS</i>. in the +Annotated Edition. It was suggested that the motto of the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i> should have been, "Musam tenui meditamur +avenâ."<br> +<a href="#fr585">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f691"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Tt:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But thou with powers...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr691">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f586"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 66:</span></a> Ý His Lordship has been +much abroad, is a member of the Athenian Society, and reviewer of +Gell's <i>Topography of Troy</i>. [George Gordon, fourth Earl of +Aberdeen (1784-1860), published in 1822 <i>An Inquiry into the +Principles of Beauty in Grecian Architecture</i>. His grandfather +purchased Gight, the property which Mrs. Byron had sold to pay +her husband's debts. This may have been an additional reason for +the introduction of his name.]<br> +<a href="#fr586">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f692"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Uu:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Let <b>Moore</b> be lewd; let <b>Strangford</b> +steal from <b>Moore</b>...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr692">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f587"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 67:</span></a> Ý Mr. Herbert is a +translator of Icelandic and other poetry. One of the principal +pieces is a <i>Song on the Recovery of Thor's Hammer</i>: the +translation is a pleasant chant in the vulgar tongue, and endeth +thus:-- + +<blockquote>"Instead of money and rings, I wot,<br> + The hammer's bruises were her lot.<br> + Thus Odin's son his hammer got."</blockquote> + +[William Herbert (1778-1847), son of the first Earl of Carnarvon, +edited <i>Musæ Etonenses</i> in 1795, whilst he was still +at school. He was one of the earliest contributors to the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i>. At the time when Byron was writing his +satire, he was M.P. for Hampshire, but in 1814 he took Orders. He +was appointed Dean of Manchester in 1840, and republished his +poetical works, and among them his Icelandic Translations or +<i>Horæ Scandicæ (Miscellaneous Works</i>, 2 vols.), +in 1842.]<br> +<a href="#fr587">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f695"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Vv:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>For outlawed Sherwood's tales...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Brit. Bards. Eds.</i> 1-4]<br> +<a href="#fr695">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f588"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 68:</span></a> Ý The Rev. <b>Sydney +Smith</b>, the reputed Author of <i>Peter Plymley's Letters</i>, +and sundry criticisms. [Sydney Smith (1771-1845), the "witty +Canon of St. Paul's," was one of the founders, and for a short +time (1802) the editor, of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. His +<i>Letters on the Catholicks, from Peter Plymley to his brother +Abraham</i>, appeared in 1807-8.]<br> +<a href="#fr588">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f698"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ww:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And even spurns the great Seatonian +prize...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. First to Fourth Editions</i> (a correction in the +Annotated Copy).]<br> +<a href="#fr698">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f589"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 69:</span></a> Ý Mr. <b>Hallam</b> +reviewed <b>Payne Knight's</b> "Taste," and was exceedingly +severe on some Greek verses therein. It was not discovered that +the lines were Pindar's till the press rendered it impossible to +cancel the critique, which still stands an everlasting monument +of Hallam's ingenuity.-- [<i>Note added to Second Edition</i>: + +<blockquote>Hallam is incensed because he is falsely accused, +seeing that he never dineth at Holland House. If this be true, I +am sorry--not for having said so, but on his account, as I +understand his Lordship's feasts are preferable to his +compositions. If he did not review Lord <b>Holland's</b> +performance, I am glad; because it must have been painful to +read, and irksome to praise it. If Mr. <b>Hallam</b> will tell me +who did review it, the real name shall find a place in the text; +provided, nevertheless, the said name be of two orthodox musical +syllables, and will come into the verse: till then, <b>Hallam</b> +must stand for want of a better.]</blockquote> + +[Henry Hallam (1777-1859), author of <i>Europe during the Middle +Ages</i>, 1808, etc. + +<blockquote>"This," said Byron, "is the style in which history +ought to be written, if it is wished to impress it on the +memory"</blockquote> + +(<i>Lady Blessington's Conversations with Lord Byron</i>, 1834, +p. 213). The article in question was written by Dr. John Allen, +Lord Holland's domestic physician, and Byron was misled by the +similarity of sound in the two names (see H. C. Robinson's +<i>Diary</i>, i. 277), or repeated what Hodgson had told him (see +Introduction, and Letter 102, <i>note</i> i).<br> +<br> +For a disproof that Hallam wrote the article, see <i>Gent. +Mag</i>., 1830, pt. i. p. 389; and for an allusion to the mistake +in the review, compare <i>All the Talents</i>, p. 96, and +<i>note</i>. + +<blockquote>"Spare me not <i>Chronicles</i> and <i>Sunday +News</i>,<br> + Spare me not <i>Pamphleteers</i> and <i>Scotch +Reviews</i>"</blockquote> + +"The best literary joke I recollect is its [the <i>Edin. +Rev</i>.] attempting to prove some of the Grecian Pindar rank non +sense, supposing it to have been written by Mr. P. Knight."]<br> +<a href="#fr589">return</a><br> +<a href="#f600">go to Footnote 78</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f701"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Xx:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>With odes by Smyth<a href="#f737"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> and epic songs by +Hoyle,<br> + Hoyle whose learn'd page, if still upheld by whist<br> + Required no sacred theme to bid us list...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards</i>]<br> +<br> +<a name="f737"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> William Smyth (1766-1849). Professor of +Modern History at Cambridge, published his <i>English Lyrics</i> +(in 1806), and several other works.<br> +<a href="#fr701">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f590"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 70:</span></a> Ý Pillans is a +[private, <i>MS</i>.] tutor at Eton.<br> + [James Pillans (1778-1864), Rector of the High School, and +Professor of Humanity in the University, Edinburgh. Byron +probably assumed that the review of Hodgson's <i>Translation of +Juvenal</i>, in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, April, 1808, was by +him.]<br> +<a href="#fr590">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f704"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Yy:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Yet hold--as when by Heaven's supreme behest,<br> + If found, ten righteous had preserved the Rest<br> + In Sodom's fated town--for Granta's name<br> + Let Hodgson's Genius plead and save her fame<br> + But where fair Isis, etc....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. and British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr704">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f591"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 71:</span></a> ÝThe Honourable G. +Lambe reviewed "<b>Beresford's</b> Miseries," and is moreover +Author of a farce enacted with much applause at the Priory, +Stanmore; and damned with great expedition at the late theatre, +Covent Garden. It was entitled <i>Whistle for It</i>. [See note, +<i>supra</i>, on line 57.] His review of James Beresford's +<i>Miseries of Human Life; or the Last Groans of Timothy Testy +and Samuel Sensitive</i>, appeared in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> +for Oct. 1806.<br> +<a href="#fr591">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f706"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Zz:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>See Clarke still striving piteously to please<br> + Forgets that Doggrel leads not to degrees...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Fragment</i> bound up with <i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr706">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f593"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 72:</span></a> Ý Mr. Brougham, in No. +XXV. of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, throughout the article +concerning Don Pedro de Cevallos, has displayed more politics +than policy; many of the worthy burgesses of Edinburgh being so +incensed at the infamous principles it evinces, as to have +withdrawn their subscriptions.<br> +<br> +[Here followed, in the First Edition: + +<blockquote>"The name of this personage is pronounced Broom in +the south, but the truly northern and <i>musical</i> +pronunciation is <b>Brough-am</b>, in two +syllables;"</blockquote> + +but for this, Byron substituted in the Second Edition: + +<blockquote>"It seems that Mr. Brougham is not a Pict, as I +supposed, but a Borderer, and his name is pronounced Broom, from +Trent to Tay:--so be it."</blockquote> + +The title of the work was "Exposition of the Practices and +Machinations which led to the usurpation of the Crown of Spain, +and the means adopted by the Emperor of the French to carry it +into execution," by Don Pedro Cevallos. The article, which +appeared in Oct. 1808, was the joint composition of Jeffrey and +Brougham, and proved a turning-point in the political development +of the <i>Review</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr593">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f711"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote aA:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>So sunk in dullness and so lost in shame<br> + That Smythe and Hodgson scarce redeem thy +fame...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Addition to British Bards. First to Fourth +Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr711">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f594"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 73:</span></a> Ý: I ought to apologise +to the worthy Deities for introducing a new Goddess with short +petticoats to their notice: but, alas! what was to be done? I +could not say Caledonia's Genius, it being well known there is no +genius to be found from Clackmannan to Caithness; yet without +supernatural agency, how was Jeffrey to be saved? The national +"Kelpies" are too unpoetical, and the "Brownies" and "gude +neighbours" (spirits of a good disposition) refused to extricate +him. A Goddess, therefore, has been called for the purpose; and +great ought to be the gratitude of Jeffrey, seeing it is the only +communication he ever held, or is likely to hold, with anything +heavenly.<br> +<a href="#fr594">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f712"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote bB:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>is wove...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards</i> and <i>First to Fourth +Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr712">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f595"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 74:</span></a> Ý Lines 528-539 +appeared for the first time in the Fifth Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr595">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f714"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote cC:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And modern Britons justly praise their +sires...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards</i> and <i>First to Fourth +Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr714">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f596"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 75:</span></a> Ý See the colour of the +back binding of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr596">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f715"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote dD:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>--what her sons must know too +well...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr715">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f597"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 76:</span></a> Ý "Bad enough, and on +mistaken grounds too."--B., 1816.<br> + [The comment applies to the whole passage on Lord Holland.]<br> +<br> +[Henry Richard Vassall, third Lord Holland (1773-1840), to whom +Byron dedicated the <i>Bride of Abydos</i> (1813). His <i>Life of +Lope de Vega</i> (see note 4) was published in 1806, and <i>Three +Comedies from the Spanish</i>, in 1807.]<br> +<a href="#fr597">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f716"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote eE:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Zeal for her honour no malignant Rage,<br> + Has bade me spurn the follies of the age....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. British Bards. First Edition</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr716">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f598"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 77:</span></a> ÝHenry Petty +(1780-1863) succeeded his brother as third Marquis of Lansdowne +in 1809. He was a regular attendant at the social and political +gatherings of his relative, Lord Holland; and as Holland House +was regarded as one of the main rallying-points of the Whig party +and of the Edinburgh Reviewers, the words, "whipper-in and +hunts-man," probably refer to their exertions in this +respect.<br> +<a href="#fr598">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f717"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote fF:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>--Ocean's lonely Queen...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards</i>] + +<blockquote><i>--Ocean's mighty Queen...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>First to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr717">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f600"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 78:</span></a> Ý See <a href= +"#f589">note</a> 1, p. 337.<br> + <a href="#fr600">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f718"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote gG:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Like these thy cliffs may sink in ruin hurled<br> + The last white ramparts of a falling world...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>British Bards MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr718">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f602"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 79:</span></a> Ý Lord Holland has +translated some specimens of Lope de Vega, inserted in his life +of the author. Both are bepraised by his <i>disinterested</i> +guests.<br> +<a href="#fr602">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f724"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote hH:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But should I back return, no lettered rage<br> + <a name="fr738">Shall</a> drag my common-place book on the +stage:<br> + Let vain Valentia<a href="#f738"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> rival luckless +Carr,<br> + And equal him whose work he sought to mar...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Second to Fourth Editions</i>]<br> +<br> +<a name="f738"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a>. Lord Valentia (whose tremendous travels are +forthcoming with due decorations, graphical, topographical, +typographical) deposed, on Sir John Carr's unlucky suit, that Mr. +Dubois's satire prevented his purchase of <i>The Stranger</i> in +Ireland.--Oh, fie, my lord! has your lordship no more feeling for +a fellow-tourist?--but "two of a trade," they say, etc.<br> +<br> +[George Annesley, Viscount Valentia (1769-1844), published, in +1809, <i>Voyages and Travels to India, Ceylon, the Red Sea, +Abyssinia, and Egypt in the Years 1802-6</i>. Byron calls him +"vain" Valentia, because his "accounts of ceremonies attending +his lordship's interviews with several of the petty princes" +suggest the thought "that his principal errand to India was to +measure certain rank in the British peerage against the +gradations of Asiatic royalty."--<i>Eclectic Review</i>, August, +1809. In August, 1808, Sir John Carr, author of numerous +<i>Travels</i>, brought an unsuccessful action for damages +against Messrs. Hood and Sharpe, the publishers of the parody of +his works by Edward Dubois,--<i>My Pocket Book: or Hints for a +Ryghte Merrie and Conceitede Tour, in 4to, to be called "The +Stranger in Ireland in 1805,"</i> By a Knight Errant, and +dedicated to the papermakers. (See Letter to Hodgson, August 6, +1809, and suppressed stanza (stanza Ixxxvii.) of the first canto +of <i>Childe Harold</i>.)]<br> +<a href="#f724">return to Footnote hH</a><br> +<a href="#fr724">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f604"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 80:</span></a> Ý Certain it is, her +ladyship is suspected of having displayed her matchless wit in +the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. However that may be, we know from +good authority, that the manuscripts are submitted to her +perusal--no doubt, for correction.<br> +<a href="#fr604">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f728"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote jJ:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To stun mankind, with Poesy or +Prose</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Second to Fourth Editions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr728">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f605"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 81:</span></a> Ý In the melo-drama of +<i>Tekeli</i>, that heroic prince is clapt into a barrel on the +stage; a new asylum for distressed heroes.<br> +[In the <i>MS</i>. and <i>British Bards</i> the note stands thus: + +<blockquote>"In the melodrama of <i>Tekeli</i>, that heroic +prince is clapt into a barrel on the stage, and Count Everard in +the fortress hides himself in a green-house built expressly for +the occasion. 'Tis a pity that Theodore Hook, who is really a man +of talent, should confine his genius to such paltry productions +as <i>The Fortress, Music Mad</i>, etc. etc."</blockquote> + +Theodore Hook (1788-1841) produced <i>Tekeli</i> in 1806. +<i>Fortress</i> and <i>Music Mad</i> were played in 1807. He had +written some eight or ten popular plays before he was +twenty-one.]<br> +<a href="#fr605">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f730"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote kK:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Thus much I've dared to do, how far my +lay</i></blockquote> + +. [<i>First to Fourth Editions</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr730">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f607"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 82:</span></a> Ý <i>Vide post</i>, 1. +591, <a href="#f623">note</a> 3.<br> + <a href="#fr607">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f608"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 83:</span></a> Ý William Henry West +Betty (1791-1874) ("the Young Roscius") made his first appearance +on the London stage as Selim, disguised as Achmet, in +<i>Barbarossa</i>, Dec. 1, 1804, and his last, as a boy actor, in +<i>Tancred</i>, and Captain Flash in <i>Miss in her Teens</i>, +Mar. 17, 1806, but acted in the provinces till 1808. So great was +the excitement on the occasion of his <i>début</i>, that +the military were held in readiness to assist in keeping order. +Having made a large fortune, he finally retired from the stage in +1824, and passed the last fifty years of his life in retirement, +surviving his fame by more than half a century.<br> +<a href="#fr608">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f609"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 84:</span></a> Ý All these are +favourite expressions of Mr. Reynolds, and prominent in his +comedies, living and defunct. [Frederick Reynolds (1764-1841) +produced nearly one hundred plays, one of the most successful of +which was <i>The Caravan, or the Driver and his Dog</i>. The text +alludes to his endeavour to introduce the language of ordinary +life on the stage. Compare <i>The Children of Apollo</i>, p. 9-- + +<blockquote>"But in his diction Reynolds grossly errs;<br> + For whether the love hero smiles or mourns,<br> + 'Tis oh! and ah! and ah! and oh! by turns."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr609">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f611"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 85:</span></a> Ý James Kenney +(1780-1849). Among his very numerous plays, the most successful +were <i>Raising the Wind</i> (1803), and <i>Sweethearts and +Wives</i> (1823). <i>The World</i> was brought out at Covent +Garden, March 30, 1808, and had a considerable run. He was +intimate with Charles and Mary Lamb (see <i>Letters of Charles +Lamb</i>, ii. 16, 44).<br> +<a href="#fr611">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f613"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 85a:</span></a> Ý Mr. T. Sheridan, the +new Manager of Drury Lane theatre, stripped the Tragedy of +<i>Bonduca</i> [<i>Caratach</i> in the original <i>MS</i>.] of +the dialogue, and exhibited the scenes as the spectacle of +<i>Caractacus</i>. Was this worthy of his sire? or of +himself?<br> +[Thomas Sheridan (1775-1817), most famous as the son of Richard +Brinsley Sheridan, and father of Lady Dufferin, Mrs. Norton, and +the Duchess of Somerset, was author of several plays. His +<i>Bonduca</i> was played at Covent Garden, May 3, 1808. The +following answer to a real or fictitious correspondent, in the +<i>European Magazine</i> for May, 1808, is an indication of +contemporary opinion: "The Fishwoman's letter to the author of +<i>Caractacus</i> on the art of gutting is inadmissible." For +anecdotes of Thomas Sheridan, see Angelo's <i>Reminiscences</i>, +1828, ii. 170-175. See, too, <i>Epics of the Ton</i>, p. 264.<br> +<a href="#fr613">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f614"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 86:</span></a> Ý George Colman, the +younger (1762-1836), wrote numerous dramas, several of which, +<i>e.g. The Iron Chest</i> (1796), <i>John Bull</i> (1803), +<i>The Heir-at-Law</i> (1808), have been popular with more than +one generation of playgoers. An amusing companion, and a +favourite at Court, he was appointed Lieutenant of the Yeomen of +the Guard, and examiner of plays by Royal favour, but his +reckless mode of life kept him always in difficulties. <i>John +Bull</i> is referred to in <i>Hints from Horace</i>, line +166.<br> +<a href="#fr614">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f615"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 87:</span></a> Ý Richard Cumberland +(1732-1811), the original of Sir Fretful Plagiary in <i>The +Critic</i>, a man of varied abilities, wrote poetry, plays, +novels, classical translations, and works of religious +controversy. He was successively Fellow of Trinity College, +Cambridge, secretary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and +secretary to the Board of Trade. His best known plays are <i>The +West Indian, The Wheels of Fortune</i>, and <i>The Jew</i>. He +published his <i>Memoirs</i> in 1806-7.<br> +<a href="#fr615">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f617"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 88:</span></a> Ý Sheridan's +translation of <i>Pizarro</i>, by Kotzebue, was first played at +Drury Lane, 1799. Southey wrote of it, "It is impossible to sink +below <i>Pizarro</i>. Kotzebue's play might have passed for the +worst possible if Sheridan had not proved the possibility of +making it worse" (Southey's <i>Letters</i>, i. 87). Gifford +alludes to it in a note to <i>The Mæviad</i> as "the +translation so maliciously attributed to Sheridan."<br> +<a href="#fr617">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f618"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 89:</span></a> Ý In all editions, +previous to the fifth, it was, "Kemble lives to tread." Byron +used to say, that, of actors, + +<blockquote>"Cooke was the most natural, Kemble the most +supernatural, Kean the medium between the two; but that Mrs. +Siddons was worth them all put together."</blockquote> + +Such effect, however, had Kean's acting on his mind, that once, +on seeing him play Sir Giles Overreach, he was seized with a +fit.<br> +<a href="#fr618">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f620"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 90:</span></a> Ý See <i>supra</i>, <a +href="#fr605">line 562.</a> (click c4 to return)<br> + <a href="#fr620">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f621"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 91:</span></a> Ý Andrew Cherry +(1762-1812) acted many parts in Ireland and in the provinces, and +for a few years appeared at Drury Lane. He was popular in Dublin, +where he was known as "Little Cherry." He was painted as +Lazarillo in Jephson's <i>Two Strings to Your Bow</i>. He wrote +<i>The Travellers</i> (1806), <i>Peter the Great</i> (1807), and +other plays.<br> +<a href="#fr621">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f622"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 92:</span></a> Ý Mr. [now Sir Lumley] +Skeffington is the illustrious author of <i>The Sleeping +Beauty</i>; and some comedies, particularly <i>Maids and +Bachelors: Baccalaurii</i> baculo magis quam lauro digni.<br> +<br> + [Lumley St. George (afterwards Sir Lumley) Skeffington +(1768-1850). Besides the plays mentioned in the note, he wrote +<i>The Maid of Honour</i> (1803) and <i>The Mysterious Bride</i> +(1808). <i>Amatory Verses, by Tom Shuffleton of the Middle +Temple</i> (1815), are attributed to his pen. They are prefaced +by a dedicatory letter to Byron, which includes a coarse but +clever skit in the style of <i>English Bards</i>. "Great +Skeffington" was a great dandy. According to Capt. Gronow +(<i>Reminiscences</i>, i. 63), "he used to paint his face so that +he looked like a French toy; he dressed <i>à la +Robespierre</i>, and practised all the follies;... was remarkable +for his politeness and courtly manners... You always knew of his +approach by an <i>avant courier</i> of sweet smell." His play +<i>The Sleeping Beauty</i> had a considerable vogue.]<br> +<a href="#fr622">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f623"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 93:</span></a> Ý Thomas John Dibdin +(1771-1841), natural son of Charles Dibdin the elder, made his +first appearance on the stage at the age of four, playing Cupid +to Mrs. Siddons' Venus at the Shakespearian Jubilee in 1775. One +of his best known pieces is <i>The Jew and the Doctor</i> (1798). +His pantomime, <i>Mother Goose</i>, in which Grimaldi took a +part, was played at Covent Garden in 1807, and is said to have +brought the management £20,000.<br> +<a href="#fr623">return</a><br> +<a href="#f607">cross-reference: return to Footnote 82 of this +poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f625"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 94:</span></a> Ý Mr. Greenwood is, we +believe, scene-painter to Drury Lane theatre--as such, Mr. +Skeffington is much indebted to him.<br> +<a href="#fr625">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f627"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 95:</span></a> Ý Naldi and Catalani +require little notice; for the visage of the one, and the salary +of the other, will enable us long to recollect these amusing +vagabonds. Besides, we are still black and blue from the squeeze +on the first night of the Lady's appearance in trousers. +[Guiseppe Naldi (1770-1820) made his <i>début</i> on the +London stage at the King's Theatre in April, 1806. In conjunction +with Catalani and Braham, he gave concerts at Willis' Rooms. +Angelica Catalani (circ. 1785-1849), a famous soprano, Italian by +birth and training, made her <i>début</i> at Venice in +1795. She remained in England for eight years (1806-14). Her +first appearance in England was at the King's Theatre, in +Portogallo's <i>Semiramide,</i> in 1806. Her large salary was one +of the causes which provoked the O. P. (Old Prices) Riots in +December, 1809, at Covent Garden. Praed says of his <i>Ball Room +Belle</i>-- + +<blockquote>"She warbled Handel: it was grand; She made the +Catalani jealous."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr627">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f628"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 96:</span></a> Ý Moore says that the +following twenty lines were struck off one night after Lord +Byron's return from the Opera, and sent the next morning to the +printer. The date of the letter to Dallas, with which the lines +were enclosed, suggests that the representation which provoked +the outburst was that of <i>I Villegiatori Rezzani,</i> at the +King's Theatre, February 21, 1809. The first piece, in which +Naldi and Catalani were the principal singers, was followed by +d'Egville's musical extravaganza, <i>Don Quichotte, on les Noces +de Gamache.</i> In the <i>corps de ballet</i> were Deshayes, for +many years master of the <i>ballet</i> at the King's Theatre; +Miss Gayton, who had played a Sylph at Drury Lane as early as +1806 (she was married, March 18, 1809, to the Rev. William +Murray, brother of Sir James Pulteney, Bart.--<i>Morning +Chronicle,</i> December 30, 1810), and Mademoiselle Angiolini, +"elegant of figure, <i>petite</i>, but finely formed, with the +manner of Vestris." Mademoiselle Presle does not seem to have +taken part in <i>Don Quichotte;</i> but she was well known as +<i>première danseuse</i> in <i>La Belle Laitière, +La Fête Chinoise,</i> and other ballets.<br> +<a href="#fr628">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f629"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 97:</span></a> ÝFor "whet" Editions +1-5 read "raise." Lines 632-637 are marked "good" in the +Annotated Fourth Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr629">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f630"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 98:</span></a> Ý To prevent any +blunder, such as mistaking a street for a man, I beg leave to +state, that it is the institution, and not the Duke of that name, +which is here alluded to.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr739">A</a> gentleman, with whom I am slightly +acquainted, lost in the Argyle Rooms several thousand pounds at +Backgammon<a href="#f739"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>. It is but justice to +the manager in this instance to say, that some degree of +disapprobation was manifested: but why are the implements of +gaming allowed in a place devoted to the society of both sexes? A +pleasant thing for the wives and daughters of those who are +blessed or cursed with such connections, to hear the +Billiard-Balls rattling in one room, and the dice in another! +That this is the case I myself can testify, as a late unworthy +member of an Institution which materially affects the morals of +the higher orders, while the lower may not even move to the sound +of a tabor and fiddle, without a chance of indictment for riotous +behaviour.<br> +<br> +[The Argyle Institution, founded by Colonel Greville, flourished +many years before the Argyll Rooms were built by Nash in 1818. +This mention of Greville's name caused him to demand an +explanation from Byron, but the matter was amicably settled by +Moore and G. F. Leckie, who acted on behalf of the disputants +(see <i>Life</i>, pp. 160, 161).]<br> +<br> +<a name="f739"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> "True. It was Billy Way who lost the money. I +knew him, and was a subscriber to the Argyle at the time of this +event."--B., 1816.<br> +<a href="#f630">return to Footnote 98</a><br> +<a href="#fr630">return to poem</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f631"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 99:</span></a> Ý Petronius, "Arbiter +elegantiarum" to Nero, "and a very pretty fellow in his day," as +Mr. Congreve's "Old Bachelor" saith of Hannibal.<br> +<a href="#fr631">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f633"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 100:</span></a> Ý "We are authorised +to state that Mr. Greville, who has a small party at his private +assembly rooms at the Argyle, will receive from 10 to 12 [p.m.] +masks who have Mrs. Chichester's Institution tickets.--<i>Morning +Post</i>, June 7, 1809.<br> +<a href="#fr633">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f634"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 101:</span></a> Ý See <a href= +"#f637">note</a> on <a href="#fr636">line 686</a> (click c5 to +return), infra.<br> + <a href="#fr634">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f636"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 102:</span></a> Ý +<i>Clodius</i>--"Mutato nomine de te Fabula +narratur."--[<i>MS</i>] [The allusion is to the well-known +incidents of his intrigue with Pompeia, Cæsar's wife, and +his sacrilegious intrusion into the mysteries of the Bona Dea. +The Romans had a proverb, "Clodius accuset Moechos?" (Juv., +<i>Sat.</i> ii. 27). That "Steenie" should lecture on the +"turpitude of incontinence!" (<i>The Fortunes of Nigel,</i> cap. +xxxii.)]<br> +<a href="#fr636">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f637"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 103:</span></a> Ý I knew the late Lord +Falkland well. On Sunday night I beheld him presiding at his own +table, in all the honest pride of hospitality; on Wednesday +morning, at three o'clock, I saw stretched before me all that +remained of courage, feeling, and a host of passions. He was a +gallant and successful officer: his faults were the faults of a +sailor--as such, Britons will forgive them. ["His behaviour on +the field was worthy of a better fate, and his conduct on the bed +of death evinced all the firmness of a man without the farce of +repentance--I say the farce of repentance, for death-bed +repentance is a farce, and as little serviceable to the soul at +such a moment as the surgeon to the body, though both may be +useful if taken in time. Some hireling in the papers forged a +tale about an agonized voice, etc. On mentioning the circumstance +to Mr. Heaviside, he exclaimed, 'Good God! what absurdity to talk +in this manner of one who died like a lion!'--he did +more."--[<i>MS</i>] He died like a brave man in a better cause; +for had he fallen in like manner on the deck of the frigate to +which he was just appointed, his last moments would have been +held up by his countrymen as an example to succeeding heroes.<br> +<br> +[Charles John Carey, ninth Viscount Falkland, died from a wound +received in a duel with Mr. A. Powell on Feb. 28, 1809. (See +Byron's letter to his mother, March 6, 1809.) The story of "the +agonized voice" may be traced to a paragraph in the <i>Morning +Post,</i> March 2, 1809: "Lord Falkland, after hearing the +surgeon's opinion, said with a faltering voice and as +intelligibly as the agonized state of his body and mind +permitted, "I acquit Mr. Powell of all blame; in this transaction +I alone am culpable.'"]<br> +<a href="#fr637">return</a><br> +<a href="#f634">cross-reference: return to Footnote 101</a><br> +<a href="#f808">cross-reference: return to Footnote 55 of +<i>Hints from Horace</i></a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f638"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 104:</span></a> Ý "Yes: and a precious +chase they led me."--B., 1816.<br> + <a href="#fr638">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f639"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 105:</span></a> Ý "<i>Fool</i> enough, +certainly, then, and no wiser since."--B., 1816.<br> +<a href="#fr639">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f640"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 106:</span></a> ÝWhat would be the +sentiments of the Persian Anacreon, <b>Hafiz</b>, could he rise +from his splendid sepulchre at Sheeraz (where he reposes with +<b>Ferdousi</b> and <b>Sadi</b>, the Oriental Homer and +Catullus), and behold his name assumed by one <b>Stott of +Dromore</b>, the most impudent and execrable of literary poachers +for the Daily Prints?<br> +<a href="#fr640">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f642"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 107:</span></a> Ý Miles Peter Andrews +(d. 1824) was the owner of large powder-mills at Dartford. He was +M.P. for Bewdley. He held a good social position, but his +intimate friends were actors and playwrights. His <i>Better Late +than Never</i> (which Reynolds and Topham helped him to write) +was played for the first time at Drury Lane, October 17, 1790, +with Kemble as Saville, and Mrs. Jordan as Augusta. He is +mentioned in <i>The Baviad</i>, l. 10; and in a note Gifford +satirizes his prologue to <i>Lorenzo</i>, and describes him as an +"industrious paragraph-monger."<br> +<a href="#fr642">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f643"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 108:</span></a> Ý In a manuscript +fragment, bound in the same volume as <i>British Bards</i>, we +find these lines:-- + +<blockquote>"In these, our times, with daily wonders big,<br> + A Lettered peer is like a lettered pig;<br> + Both know their Alphabet, but who, from thence,<br> + Infers that peers or pigs have manly sense?<br> + Still less that such should woo the graceful nine;<br> + Parnassus was not made for lords and swine."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr643">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f644"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 109:</span></a> Ý Wentworth Dillon, +4th Earl of Roscommon (1634-1685), author of many translations +and minor poems, endeavoured (circ. 1663) to found an English +literary academy.<br> +<a href="#fr644">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f645"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 110:</span></a> Ý John Sheffield, Earl +of Mulgrave (1658), Marquis of Normanby (1694), Duke of +Buckingham (1703) (1649-1721), wrote an <i>Essay upon Poetry</i>, +and several other works.<br> +<a href="#fr645">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f646"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 111:</span></a> Ý Lines 727-740 were +added after <i>British Bards</i> had been printed, and are +included in the First Edition, but the appearance in <i>British +Bards</i> of lines 723-726 and 741-746, which have been cut out +from Mr. Murray's MS., forms one of many proofs as to the +identity of the text of the <i>MS</i>. and the printed +Quarto.<br> +<a href="#fr646">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f647"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 112:</span></a> Ý Frederick Howard, +5th Earl of Carlisle, K.G. (1748-1825), Viceroy of Ireland, +1780-1782, and Privy Seal, etc., published <i>Tragedies and +Poems</i>, 1801. He was Byron's first cousin once removed, and +his guardian. <i>Poems Original and Translated,</i> were +dedicated to Lord Carlisle, and, as an erased MS. addition to +<i>British Bards</i> testifies, he was to have been excepted from +the roll of titled poetasters-- + +<blockquote>"Ah, who would take their titles from their +rhymes?<br> + On <i>one</i> alone Apollo deigns to smile,<br> + And crowns a new Roscommon in Carlisle."</blockquote> + +Before, however, the revised Satire was sent to the press, +Carlisle ignored his cousin's request to introduce him on taking +his seat in the House of Lords, and, to avenge the slight, +eighteen lines of castigation supplanted the flattering couplet. +Lord Carlisle suffered from a nervous disorder, and Byron was +informed that some readers had scented an allusion in the words +"paralytic puling." "I thank Heaven," he exclaimed, "I did not +know it; and would not, could not, if I had. I must naturally be +the last person to be pointed on defects or maladies."<br> +<br> +In 1814 he consulted Rogers on the chance of conciliating +Carlisle, and in <i>Childe Harold</i>, iii. 29, he laments the +loss of the "young and gallant Howard" (Carlisle's youngest son) +at Waterloo, and admits that "he did his sire some wrong." But, +according to Medwin (<i>Conversations</i>, 1824, p. 362), who +prints an excellent parody on Carlisle's lines addressed to Lady +Holland in 1822, in which he urges her to decline the legacy of +Napoleon's snuff-box, Byron made fun of his "noble relative" to +the end of the chapter (<i>vide post</i>, p. 370, <i>note</i> +2).<br> + <a href="#fr647">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f649"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 113:</span></a> ÝThe Earl of Carlisle +has lately published an eighteen-penny pamphlet on the state of +the Stage, and offers his plan for building a new theatre. It is +to be hoped his Lordship will be permitted to bring forward +anything for the Stage--except his own tragedies. [This pamphlet +was entitled <i>Thoughts upon the present condition of the stage, +and upon the construction of a new Theatre</i>, anon. 1808.]<br> +<br> +Line 732. None of the earlier editions, including the fifth and +Murray, 1831, insert "and" between "petit-maître" and +"pamphleteer." No doubt Byron sounded the final syllable of +"maître," <i>anglicé</i> "mailer."<br> +<a href="#fr649">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f651"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 114:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Doff that lion's hide,<br> + And hang a calf-skin on those recreant limbs."<br> +<br> + <b>Shakespeare</b>, <i>King John.</i></blockquote> + +Lord Carlisle's works, most resplendently bound, form a +conspicuous ornament to his book-shelves:-- + +<blockquote>"The rest is all but [only, MS.] leather and +prunella."</blockquote> + +"Wrong also--the provocation was not sufficient to justify such +acerbity."--B., 1816.<br> +<a href="#fr651">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f652"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 115:</span></a> Ý <i>All the Blocks, +or an Antidote to "All the Talents"</i> by Flagellum (W. H. +Ireland), London, 1807:<br> +<i>The Groan of the Talents, or Private Sentiments on Public +Occasions,</i> 1807;<br> +"Gr--vile Agonistes, <i>A Dramatic Poem, 1807,</i> etc., +etc."<br> +<a href="#fr652">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f653"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 116:</span></a> Ý "<b>Melville's</b> +Mantle," a parody on <i>Elijah's Mantle</i>, a poem. [<i>Elijah's +Mantle, being verses occasioned by the death of that illustrious +statesman, the Right Hon. W. Pitt.</i> Dedicated to the Right +Rev. the Lord Bishop of Lincoln (1807), was written by James +Sayer. <i>Melville's Mantle, being a Parody on the poem entitled +"Elijah's Mantle"</i> was published by Budd, 1807. <i>A Monody on +the death of the R. H. C. J. Fox,</i> by Richard Payne Knight, +was printed for J. Payne, 1806-7. Another "Monody," <i>Lines +written on returning from the Funeral of the R. H. C. J. Fox, +Friday Oct</i>. 10, 1806, addressed to Lord Holland, was by M. G. +Lewis, and there were others.]<br> +<a href="#fr653">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f655"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 117:</span></a> Ý This lovely little +Jessica, the daughter of the noted Jew King, seems to be a +follower of the Della Crusca school, and has published two +volumes of very respectable absurdities in rhyme, as times go; +besides sundry novels in the style of the first edition of <i>The +Monk.</i><br> +<br> +"She since married the <i>Morning Post</i>--an exceeding good +match; and is now dead--which is better."--B., 1816. [The last +seven words are in pencil, and, possibly, by another hand. The +novelist "Rosa," the daughter of "Jew King," the lordly +money-lender who lived in Clarges Street, and drove a yellow +chariot, may possibly be confounded with "Rosa Matilda," Mrs. +Byrne (Gronow, <i>Rem.</i> (1889), i. 132-136). (See note 1, p. +358.)]<br> +<a href="#fr655">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f656"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 118:</span></a> ÝLines 759, 760 were +added for the first time in the Fourth Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr656">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f658"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 119:</span></a> Ý Lines 756-764, with +variant ii., refer to the Della Cruscan school, attacked by +Gifford in <i>The Baviad</i> and <i>The Mæviad.</i> Robert +Merry (1755-1798), together with Mrs. Piozzi, Bertie Greatheed, +William Parsons, and some Italian friends, formed a literary +society called the <i>Oziosi</i> at Florence, where they +published <i>The Arno Miscellany</i> (1784) and <i>The Florence +Miscellany</i> (1785), consisting of verses in which the authors +"say kind things of each other" (Preface to <i>The Florence +Miscellany,</i> by Mrs. Piozzi). In 1787 Merry, who had become a +member of the Della Cruscan Academy at Florence, returned to +London, and wrote in the <i>World</i> (then edited by Captain +Topham) a sonnet on "Love," under the signature of "Della +Crusca." He was answered by Mrs. Hannah Cowley, <i>née</i> +Parkhouse (1743-1809), famous as the authoress of <i>The Belle's +Stratagem</i> (acted at Covent Garden in 1782), in a sonnet +called "The Pen," signed "Anna Matilda." The poetical +correspondence which followed was published in <i>The British +Album</i> (1789, 2 vols.) by John Bell. Other writers connected +with the Della Cruscan school were "Perdita" Robinson, +<i>née</i> Darby (1758-1800), who published <i>The +Mistletoe</i> (1800) under the pseudonym "Laura Maria," and to +whom Merry addressed a poem quoted by Gifford in <i>The +Baviad</i> (<i>note</i> to line 284); Charlotte Dacre, who +married Byrne, Robinson's successor as editor of the <i>Morning +Post,</i> wrote under the pseudonym of "Rosa Matilda," and +published poems (<i>Hours of Solitude,</i> 1805) and numerous +novels (<i>Confessions of the Nun of St. Omer's,</i> 1805; +<i>Zofloya;</i> <i>The Libertine,</i> etc.); and "Hafiz" (Robert +Stott, of the <i>Morning Post</i>). Of these writers, "Della +Crusca" Merry, and "Laura Maria" Robinson, were dead; "Anna +Matilda" Cowley, "Hafiz" Stott, and "Rosa Matilda" Dacre were +still living. John Bell (1745-1831), the publisher of <i>The +British Album,</i> was also one of the proprietors of the +<i>Morning Post,</i> the <i>Oracle,</i> and the <i>World,</i> in +all of which the Della Cruscans wrote. His "Owls and +Nightingales" are explained by a reference to <i>The Baviad</i> +(l. 284), where Gifford pretends to mistake the nightingale, to +which Merry ("Arno") addressed some lines, for an owl. "On +looking again, I find the owl to be a +nightingale!--N'importe."]<br> +<a href="#fr658">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f659"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 120:</span></a> Ý These are the +signatures of various worthies who figure in the poetical +departments of the newspapers.<br> +<a href="#fr659">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f660"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 121:</span></a> Ý "This was meant for +poor Blackett, who was then patronised by A. I. B." (Lady Byron); +"but <i>that</i> I did not know, or this would not have been +written, at least I think not."--B., 1816.<br> +<br> +[Joseph Blacket (1786-1810), said by Southey (<i>Letters,</i> i. +172) to possess "force and rapidity," and to be endowed with +"more powers than Robert Bloomfield, and an intellect of higher +pitch," was the son of a labourer, and by trade a cobbler. He was +brought into notice by S. J. Pratt (who published Blacket's +<i>Remains</i> in 1811), and was befriended by the Milbanke +family. Miss Milbanke, afterwards Lady Byron, wrote (Sept. 2, +1809), "Seaham is at present the residence of a poet, by name +Joseph Blacket, one of the Burns-like and Dermody kind, whose +genius is his sole possession. I was yesterday in his company for +the first time, and was much pleased with his manners and +conversation. He is extremely diffident, his deportment is mild, +and his countenance animated melancholy and of a satirical turn. +His poems certainly display a superior genius and an enlarged +mind...." Blacket died on the Seaham estate in Sept., 1810, at +the age of twenty-three. (See Byron's letter to Dallas, June 28, +1811; his <i>Epitaph for Joseph Blackett;</i> and <i>Hints from +Horace,</i> <a href="#fr904">l. 734</a>. (click c8 to +return))]<br> +<a href="#fr660">return</a><br> +<a href="#fr901a">cross-reference: return to Footnote 70 of +<i>Hints from Horace</i></a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f661"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 122:</span></a> Ý Capel Lofft, Esq., +the Mæcenas of shoemakers, and Preface-writer-General to +distressed versemen; a kind of gratis Accoucheur to those who +wish to be delivered of rhyme, but do not know how to bring it +forth.<br> +<br> +[Capel Lofft (1751-1824), jurist, poet, critic, and +horticulturist, honoured himself by his kindly patronage of +Robert Bloomfield (1766-1823), who was born at Honington, near +Lofft's estate of Throston, Suffolk. Robert Bloomfield was +brought up by his elder brothers--Nathaniel a tailor, and George +a shoemaker. It was in the latter's workshop that he composed +<i>The Farmer's Boy,</i> which was published (1798) with the help +of Lofft. He also wrote <i>Rural Tales</i> (1802), <i>Good +Tidings; or News from the Farm</i> (1804), <i>The Banks of the +Wye</i> (1811), etc. (See <i>Hints from Horace,</i> <a href= +"#fr904">line 734</a> (cllck c9 to return), notes <a href= +"#f904">1</a> and <a href="#f905">2</a>.)]<br> +<a href="#fr661">return to poem</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f662"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 123:</span></a> Ý See Nathaniel +Bloomfield's ode, elegy, or whatever he or any one else chooses +to call it, on the enclosures of "Honington Green." [Nathaniel +Bloomfield, as a matter of fact, called it a +ballad.--<i>Poems</i> (1803).]<br> +<a href="#fr662">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f663"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 124:</span></a> Ý <i>Vide +Recollections of a Weaver in the Moorlands of Staffordshire</i>. +[The exact title is <i>The Moorland Bard; or Poetical +Recollections of a Weaver</i>, etc. 2 vols., 1807. The author was +T. Bakewell, who also wrote <i>A Domestic Guide to Insanity</i>, +1805.]<br> +<a href="#fr663">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f665"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 125:</span></a> Ý It would be +superfluous to recall to the mind of the reader the authors of +<i>The Pleasures of Memory</i> and <i>The Pleasures of Hope</i>, +the most beautiful didactic poems in our language, if we except +Pope's <i>Essay on Man</i>: but so many poetasters have started +up, that even the names of Campbell and Rogers are become +strange.--[Beneath this note Byron scribbled, in 1816,-- + +<blockquote>"Pretty Miss Jaqueline<br> + Had a nose aquiline,<br> + And would assert rude<br> + Things of Miss Gertrude,<br> + While Mr. Marmion<br> + Led a great army on,<br> + Making Kehama look<br> + Like a fierce Mameluke."</blockquote> + +"I have been reading," he says, in 1813, <i>Memory</i> again, and +<i>Hope</i> together, and retain all my preference of the former. +His elegance is really wonderful--there is no such a thing as a +vulgar line in his book." In the annotations of 1816, Byron +remarks, "Rogers has not fulfilled the promise of his first +poems, but has still very great merit."<br> +<a href="#fr665">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f667"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 126:</span></a> Ý <b>Gifford</b>, +author of the <i>Baviad</i> and <i>Mæviad</i>, the first +satires of the day, and translator of Juvenal, [and one (though +not the best) of the translators of Juvenal.--<i>British +Bards</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr667">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f668"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 127:</span></a> Ý <b>Sotheby</b>, +translator of <b>Wieland's</b> <i>Oberon</i> and Virgil's +<i>Georgics</i>, and author of <i>Saul</i>, an epic poem.<br> +<br> +[William Sotheby (1757-1833) began life as a cavalry officer, but +being a man of fortune, sold out of the army and devoted himself +to literature, and to the patronage of men of letters. His +translation of the <i>Oberon</i> appeared in 1798, and of the +<i>Georgics</i> in 1800. <i>Saul</i> was published in 1807. When +Byron was in Venice, he conceived a dislike to Sotheby, in the +belief that he had made an anonymous attack on some of his works; +but, later, his verdict was, "a good man, rhymes well (if not +wisely); but is a bore" (<i>Diary</i>, 1821; <i>Works</i>, p. +509, note). He is "the solemn antique man of rhyme" +(<i>Beppo</i>, st. lxiii.), and the "Botherby" of <i>The +Blues</i>; and in <i>Don Juan</i>, Canto I. st. cxvi., we read-- + +<blockquote>"Thou shalt not covet Mr. Sotheby's house<br> + His Pegasus nor anything that's his."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr668">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f669"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 128:</span></a> Ý <b>Macneil</b>, +whose poems are deservedly popular, particularly +"<b>Scotland's</b> Scaith," and the "Waes of War," of which ten +thousand copies were sold in one month.<br> +<br> +[Hector Macneil (1746-1816) wrote in defence of slavery in +Jamaica, and was the author of several poems: <i>Scotland's +Skaith, or the History of Will and Jean</i> (1795), <i>The Waes +of War, or the Upshot of the History of Will and Jean</i> (1796), +etc., etc.]<br> +<a href="#fr669">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f670"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 129:</span></a> Ý Mr. <b>Gifford</b> +promised publicly that the <i>Baviad</i> and <i>Mæviad</i> +should not be his last original works: let him remember, "Mox in +reluctantes dracones." [Cf. <i>New Morality,</i> lines +29-42.]<br> +<a href="#fr670">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f671"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 130:</span></a> Ý Henry Kirke White +died at Cambridge, in October 1806, in consequence of too much +exertion in the pursuit of studies that would have matured a mind +which disease and poverty could not impair, and which Death +itself destroyed rather than subdued. His poems abound in such +beauties as must impress the reader with the liveliest regret +that so short a period was allotted to talents, which would have +dignified even the sacred functions he was destined to +assume.<br> +<br> +[H. K. White (1785-1806) published <i>Clifton Grove</i> and other +poems in 1803. Two volumes of his <i>Remains,</i> consisting of +poems, letters, etc., with a life by Southey, were issued in +1808. His tendency to epilepsy was increased by over-work at +Cambridge. He once remarked to a friend that "were he to paint a +picture of Fame, crowning a distinguished undergraduate after the +Senate house examination, he would represent her as concealing a +Death's head under a mask of Beauty" (<i>Life of H. K. W.</i>, by +Southey, i. 45). By "the soaring lyre, which else had sounded an +immortal lay," Byron, perhaps, refers to the unfinished +<i>Christiad,</i> which, says Southey, "Henry had most at +heart."]<br> +<a href="#fr671">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f672"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 131:</span></a> Ý Lines 832-834, as +they stand in the text, were inserted in MS. in both the +Annotated Copies of the Fourth Edition.<br> +<a href="#fr672">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f674"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 132:</span></a> Ý "I consider Crabbe +and Coleridge as the first of these times, in point of power and +genius."--B., 1816.<br> +<a href="#fr674">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f675"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 133:</span></a> Ý Mr. Shee, author of +<i>Rhymes on Art</i> and <i>Elements of Art</i>.<br> +<br> +[Sir Martin Archer Shee (1770-1850) was President of the Royal +Academy (1830-45). His <i>Rhymes on Art</i> (1805) and +<i>Elements of Art</i> (1809), a poem in six cantos, will hardly +be regarded as worthy of Byron's praise, which was probably quite +genuine. He also wrote a novel, <i>Harry Calverley</i>, and other +works.]<br> +<a href="#fr675">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f677"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 134:</span></a> Ý Mr. Wright, late +Consul-General for the Seven Islands, is author of a very +beautiful poem, just published: it is entitled <i>Horæ +Ionicæ</i>, and is descriptive of the isles and the +adjacent coast of Greece.<br> +<br> +[Walter Rodwell Wright was afterwards President of the Court of +Appeal in Malta, where he died in 1826. <i>Horæ +Ionicæ, a Poem descriptive of the Ionian Islands, and Part +of the Adjacent Coast of Greece</i>, was published in 1809. He is +mentioned in one of Byron's long notes to <i>Childe Harold</i>, +canto ii., dated Franciscan Convent, Mar. 17, 1811.]<br> +<a href="#fr677">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f678"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 135:</span></a> Ý The translators of +the Anthology have since published separate poems, which evince +genius that only requires opportunity to attain eminence.<br> +<br> +[The Rev. Robert Bland (1779-1825) published, in 1806, +<i>Translations chiefly from the Greek Anthology, with Tales and +Miscellaneous Poems</i>. In these he was assisted (see <i>Life of +the Rev. Francis Hodgson</i>, vol. i. pp. 226-260) by Denman +(afterwards Chief Justice), by Hodgson himself, and, above all, +by John Herman Merivale (1779-1844), who subsequently, in 1813, +was joint editor with him of <i>Collections from the Greek +Anthology</i>, etc.]<br> +<a href="#fr678">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f682"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 136:</span></a> Ý Erasmus Darwin +(1731-1802), the grandfather of Charles Robert Darwin. Coleridge +describes his poetry as "nothing but a succession of landscapes +or paintings. It arrests the attention too often, and so prevents +the rapidity necessary to pathos."--<i>Anima Poetæ</i>, +1895, p. 5. His chief works are <i>The Botanic Garden</i> +(1789-92) and <i>The Temple of Nature</i> (1803). Byron's censure +of <i>The Botanic Garden</i> is inconsistent with his principles, +for Darwin's verse was strictly modelled on the lines of Pope and +his followers. But the <i>Loves of the Triangles</i> had laughed +away the <i>Loves of the Plants</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr682">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f684"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 137:</span></a> Ý The neglect of +<i>The Botanic Garden</i> is some proof of returning taste. The +scenery is its sole recommendation.<br> +<a href="#fr684">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f685"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 138:</span></a> Ý This was not Byron's +mature opinion, nor had he so expressed himself in the review of +Wordsworth's <i>Poems</i> which he contributed to <i>Crosby's +Magazine</i> in 1807 (<i>Life</i>, p. 669). His scorn was, in +part, provoked by indignities offered to Pope and Dryden, and, in +part, assumed because one Lake poet called up the rest; and it +was good sport to flout and jibe at the "Fraternity." That the +day would come when the message of Wordsworth would reach his +ears and awaken his enthusiasm, he could not, of course, foresee +(see <i>Childe Harold</i>, canto iii. stanzas 72, <i>et +seqq.</i>).<br> +<a href="#fr685">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f686"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 139:</span></a> Ý Messrs. Lamb and +Lloyd, the most ignoble followers of Southey and Co.<br> +<br> +[Charles Lloyd (1775-1839) resided for some months under +Coleridge's roof, first in Bristol, and afterwards at Nether +Stowey (1796-1797). He published, in 1796, a folio edition of his +<i>Poems on the Death of Priscilla Farmer</i>, in which a sonnet +by Coleridge and a poem of Lamb's were included. Lamb and Lloyd +contributed several pieces to the second edition of Coleridge's +<i>Poems</i>, published in 1797; and in 1798 they brought out a +joint volume of their own composition, named <i>Poems in Blank +Verse</i>. <i>Edmund Oliver</i>, a novel, appeared also in 1798. +An estrangement between Coleridge and Lloyd resulted in a quarrel +with Lamb, and a drawing together of Lamb, Lloyd, and Southey. +But Byron probably had in his mind nothing more than the lines in +the <i>Anti-Jacobin</i>, where Lamb and Lloyd are classed with +Coleridge and Southey as advocates of French socialism:-- + +<blockquote>"Coleridge and Southey, Lloyd and Lamb and Co.,<br> + Tune all your mystic harps to praise Lepaux."</blockquote> + +In later life Byron expressed a very different opinion of Lamb's +literary merits. (See the preface to <i>Werner</i>, now first +published.)]<br> +<a href="#fr686">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f687"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 140:</span></a> Ý By the bye, I hope +that in Mr. Scott's next poem, his hero or heroine will be less +addicted to "Gramarye," and more to Grammar, than the Lady of the +Lay and her Bravo, William of Deloraine.<br> +<a href="#fr687">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f689"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 141:</span></a> Ý"Unjust."--B., +1816.<br> + <br> + [In <i>Frost at Midnight</i>, first published in 1798, Coleridge +twice mentions his "Cradled infant."]<br> +<a href="#fr689">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f693"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 142:</span></a> Ý The Rev. W. L. +Bowles (<i>vide ante</i>, p. 323, note 2), published, in 1789, +<i>Fourteen Sonnets written chiefly on Picturesque Spots during a +Journey</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr693">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f694"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 143:</span></a> Ý It may be asked, why +I have censured the Earl of <b>Carlisle</b>, my guardian and +relative, to whom I dedicated a volume of puerile poems a few +years ago?--The guardianship was nominal, at least as far as I +have been able to discover; the relationship I cannot help, and +am very sorry for it; but as his Lordship seemed to forget it on +a very essential occasion to me, I shall not burden my memory +with the recollection. I do not think that personal differences +sanction the unjust condemnation of a brother scribbler; but I +see no reason why they should act as a preventive, when the +author, noble or ignoble, has, for a series of years, beguiled a +"discerning public" (as the advertisements have it) with divers +reams of most orthodox, imperial nonsense. Besides, I do not step +aside to vituperate the earl: no--his works come fairly in review +with those of other Patrician Literati. If, before I escaped from +my teens, I said anything in favour of his Lordship's paper +books, it was in the way of dutiful dedication, and more from the +advice of others than my own judgment, and I seize the first +opportunity of pronouncing my sincere recantation. I have heard +that some persons conceive me to be under obligations to Lord +<b>Carlisle</b>: if so, I shall be most particularly happy to +learn what they are, and when conferred, that they may be duly +appreciated and publicly acknowledged. What I have humbly +advanced as an opinion on his printed things, I am prepared to +support, if necessary, by quotations from Elegies, Eulogies, +Odes, Episodes, and certain facetious and dainty tragedies +bearing his name and mark:-- + +<blockquote>"What can ennoble knaves, or <i>fools</i>, or +cowards?<br> + Alas! not all the blood of all the Howards."</blockquote> + +So says Pope. Amen!<br> +<br> +"Much too savage, whatever the foundation might be."--B., +1816.<br> +<a href="#fr694">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f696"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 144:</span></a> Ý Line 952. +<i>Note</i>-- + +<blockquote>"Tollere humo, victorque virum volitare per +ora."</blockquote> + +(<b>Virgil</b>.)<br> +<a href="#fr696">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f697"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 145:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"The devil take that 'Phoenix'! How came it +there?"</blockquote> + +(B., 1816.)<br> +<a href="#fr697">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f699"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 146:</span></a> ÝThe Rev. Charles +James Hoare (1781-1865), a close friend of the leaders of the +Evangelical party, gained the Seatonian Prize at Cambridge in +1807 with his poem on the <i>Shipwreck of St. Paul</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr699">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f700"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 147:</span></a> Ý Edmund Hoyle, the +father of the modern game of whist, lived from 1672 to 1769. The +Rev. Charles Hoyle, his "poetical namesake," was, like Hoare, a +Seatonian prizeman, and wrote an epic in thirteen books on the +<i>Exodus</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr700">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f702"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 148:</span></a> Ý The <i>Games of +Hoyle</i>, well known to the votaries of Whist, Chess, etc., are +not to be superseded by the vagaries of his poetical namesake +["illustrious Synonime" in <i>MS</i>. and <i>British Bards</i>, +whose poem comprised, as expressly stated in the advertisement, +all the "Plagues of Egypt."<br> +<a href="#fr702">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f703"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 149:</span></a> Ý Here, as in line +391, "Fresh fish from Helicon," etc., Byron confounds Helicon and +Hippocrene.<br> +<a href="#fr703">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f705"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 150:</span></a> Ý This person, who has +lately betrayed the most rabid symptoms of confirmed authorship, +is writer of a poem denominated <i>The Art of Pleasing</i>, as +"Lucus a non lucendo," containing little pleasantry, and less +poetry. He also acts as ["lies as" in <i>MS.</i>] monthly +stipendiary and collector of calumnies for the <i>Satirist</i>. +If this unfortunate young man would exchange the magazines for +the mathematics, and endeavour to take a decent degree in his +university, it might eventually prove more serviceable than his +present salary.<br> +<br> +[Note.--An unfortunate young person of Emanuel College, +Cambridge, ycleped Hewson Clarke, has lately manifested the most +rabid symptoms of confirmed Authorship. His Disorder commenced +some years ago, and the <i>Newcastle Herald</i> teemed with his +precocious essays, to the great edification of the Burgesses of +Newcastle, Morpeth, and the parts adjacent even unto Berwick upon +Tweed. These have since been abundantly scurrilous upon the +[town] of Newcastle, his native spot, Mr. Mathias and Anacreon +Moore. What these men had done to offend Mr. Hewson Clarke is not +known, but surely the town in whose markets he had sold meat, and +in whose weekly journal he had written prose deserved better +treatment. Mr. H.C. should recollect the proverb "'tis a +villainous bird that defiles his own nest." He now writes in the +<i>Satirist</i>. We recommend the young man to abandon the +magazines for mathematics, and to believe that a high degree at +Cambridge will be more advantageous, as well as profitable in the +end, than his present precarious gleanings.]<br> +<br> +[Hewson Clarke (1787-circ. 1832) was entered at Emmanuel Coll. +Camb. circ. 1806 (see <i>Postscript</i>). He had to leave the +University without taking a degree, and migrated to London, where +he devoted his not inconsiderable talents to contributions to the +<i>Satirist</i>, the <i>Scourge</i>, etc. He also wrote: <i>An +Impartial History of the Naval, etc., Events of Europe ... from +the French Revolution ... to the Conclusion of a General +Peace</i> (1815); and a continuation of Hume's <i>History of +England</i>, 2 vols. (1832).<br> +<br> +The <i>Satirist</i>, a monthly magazine illustrated with coloured +cartoons, was issued 1808-1814. <i>Hours of Idleness</i> was +reviewed Jan. 1808 (i. 77-81). "The Diary of a Cantab" (June, +1808, ii. 368) contains some verses of "Lord B----n to his Bear. +To the tune of Lachin y gair." The last verse runs thus:- + +<blockquote>"But when with the ardour of Love I am burning,<br> + I feel for thy torments, I feel for thy care;<br> + And weep for thy bondage, so truly discerning<br> + What's felt by a <i>Lord</i>, may be felt by a +<i>Bear</i>."</blockquote> + +In August, 1808 (iii. 78-86), there is a critique on <i>Poems +Original and Translated</i>, in which the bear plays many parts. +The writer "is without his bear and is himself muzzled," etc. +Towards the close of the article a solemn sentence is passed on +the author for his disregard of the advice of parents, tutors, +friends; "but," adds the reviewer, "in the paltry volume before +us we think we observe some proof that the still small voice of +conscience will be heard in the cool of the day. Even now the +gay, the gallant, the accomplished bear-leader is not happy," +etc. Hence the castigation of "the sizar of Emmanuel +College."<br> +<a href="#fr705">return to poem</a><br> +<a href="#f797">cross-reference: return to Footnote 19 of +<i>Hints from Horace</i></a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f707"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 151:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Right enough: this was well deserved, and well laid +on."</blockquote> + +(B., 1816.)<br> +<a href="#fr707">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f708"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 152:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Into Cambridgeshire the Emperor Probus transported a +considerable body of Vandals."</blockquote> + +(Gibbon's <i>Decline and Fall</i>, ii. 83.) There is no reason to +doubt the truth of this assertion; the breed is still in high +perfection.<br> +<br> +We see no reason to doubt the truth of this statement, as a large +stock of the same breed are to be found there at this +day.--<i>British Bards</i>.<br> +<br> +[Lines 981-984 do not occur in the <i>MS</i>. Lines 981, 982, are +inserted in MS. in <i>British Bards</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr708">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f709"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 153:</span></a> ÝThis gentleman's name +requires no praise: the man who [has surpassed Dryden and Gifford +as a Translator.--<i>MS. British Bards</i>] in translation +displays unquestionable genius may be well expected to excel in +original composition, of which, it is to be hoped, we shall soon +see a splendid specimen.<br> +<br> +[Francis Hodgson (1781-1852) was Byron's lifelong friend. His +<i>Juvenal</i> appeared in 1807; <i>Lady Jane Grey and other +Poems</i>, in 1809; <i>Sir Edgar, a Tale</i>, in 1810. For other +works and details, see <i>Life of the Rev. Francis Hodgson</i>, +by the Rev. James T. Hodgson (1878).]<br> +<a href="#fr709">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f710"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 154:</span></a> Ý Hewson Clarke, +<i>Esq</i>., as it is written.<br> + <a href="#fr710">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f713"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 155:</span></a> Ý <i>The Aboriginal +Britons</i>, an excellent ["most excellent" in <i>MS.</i>] poem, +by Richards.<br> +<br> +[The Rev. George Richards, D.D. (1769-1835), a Fellow of Oriel, +and afterwards Rector of St. Martin's-in-the-Fields. <i>The +Aboriginal Britons</i>, a prize poem, was published in 1792, and +was followed by <i>The Songs of the Aboriginal Bards of +Britain</i> (1792), and various other prose and poetical +works.]<br> +<a href="#fr713">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f719"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 156:</span></a> Ý With this verse the +satire originally ended.<br> + <a href="#fr719">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f720"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 157:</span></a> ÝA friend of mine +being asked, why his Grace of Portland was likened to an old +woman? replied, "he supposed it was because he was past bearing." +(Even Homer was a punster--a solitary pun.)--[<i>MS</i>.] His +Grace is now gathered to his grandmothers, where he sleeps as +sound as ever; but even his sleep was better than his colleagues' +waking. 1811.<br> +<br> +[William Henry Cavendish, third Duke of Portland (1738-1809), +Prime Minister in 1807, on the downfall of the Ministry of "All +the Talents," till his death in 1809, was, as the wits said, "a +convenient block to hang Whigs on," but was not, even in his +vigour, a man of much intellectual capacity. When Byron meditated +a tour to India in 1808, Portland declined to write on his behalf +to the Directors of the East India Company, and couched his +refusal in terms which Byron fancied to be offensive.]<br> +<a href="#fr720">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f721"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 158:</span></a> Ý "Saw it August, +1809."--B., 1816.<br> + <br> + [The following notes were omitted from the Fifth Edition:-- + +<blockquote>"Calpe is the ancient name of Gibraltar. Saw it +August, 1809.--B., 1816.<br> +<br> + "Stamboul is the Turkish word for Constantinople. Was there the +summer 1810."<br> +<br> + To "Mount Caucasus," he adds, "Saw the distant ridge of,--1810, +1811"]</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr721">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f722"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 159:</span></a> Ý Georgia.<br> + <a href="#fr722">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f723"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 160:</span></a> Ý Mount Caucasus.<br> + <a href="#fr723">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f725"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 161:</span></a> Ý Lord Elgin would +fain persuade us that all the figures, with and without noses, in +his stoneshop, are the work of Phidias! "Credat +Judæus!"<br> +<br> +[R. Payne Knight, in his introduction to <i>Specimens of Ancient +Sculpture</i>, published 1809, by the Dilettanti Society, throws +a doubt on the Phidian workmanship of the "Elgin" marbles. See +the <a href="#section116b">Introduction</a> to <i>The Curse of +Minerva</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr725">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f726"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 162:</span></a> Ý Sir William Gell +(1777-1836) published the <i>Topography of Troy</i> (1804), the +<i>Geography and Antiquities of Ithaca</i> (1807), and the +<i>Itinerary of Greece</i> (1808). Byron reviewed the two last +works in the <i>Monthly Review</i> (August, 1811), (<i>Life</i>, +pp. 670, 676). Fresh from the scenes, he speaks with authority. + +<blockquote>"With Homer in his pocket and Gell on his +sumpter-mule, the Odysseus tourist may now make a very classical +and delightful excursion."</blockquote> + +The epithet in the original MS. was "coxcomb," but becoming +acquainted with Gell while the satire was in the press, Byron +changed it to "classic." In the fifth edition he altered it to +"rapid," and appended this note:-- + +<blockquote>"'Rapid,' indeed! He topographised and typographised +King Priam's dominions in three days! I called him 'classic' +before I saw the Troad, but since have learned better than to +tack to his name what don't belong to it."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr726">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f727"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 163:</span></a> Ý Mr. Gell's +<i>Topography of Troy and Ithaca</i> cannot fail to ensure the +approbation of every man possessed of classical taste, as well +for the information Mr. Gell conveys to the mind of the reader, +as for the ability and research the respective works display. + +<blockquote>"'Troy and Ithaca.' Visited both in 1810, 18ll."--B., +1816.<br> +<br> + "'Ithaca' passed first in 1809."--B., 1816.<br> +<br> + "Since seeing the plain of Troy, my opinions are somewhat +changed as to the above note. Cell's survey was hasty and +superficial."--B., 1816.</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr727">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f729"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 164:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Singular enough, and <i>din</i> enough, God +knows."</blockquote> + +(B., 1816).<br> +<a href="#fr729">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f731"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 165:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"The greater part of this satire I most sincerely +wish had never been written-not only on account of the injustice +of much of the critical, and some of the personal part of it--but +the tone and temper are such as I cannot approve."</blockquote> + +<b>Byron</b>. July 14, 1816. <i>Diodati, Geneva</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr731">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section114d">Postscript to the Second +Edition</a></h3> + +<br> +I have been informed, since the present edition went to the +press, that my trusty and well-beloved cousins, the Edinburgh +Reviewers, are preparing a most vehement critique on my poor, +gentle, <i>unresisting</i> Muse, whom they have already so +be-deviled with their ungodly ribaldry; + +<blockquote>"Tantæne animis coelestibus +Iræ!"</blockquote> + +I suppose I must say of <b>Jeffrey</b> as Sir <b>Andrew +Aguecheek</b> saith, + +<blockquote>"an I had known he was so cunning of fence, I had +seen him damned ere I had fought him."</blockquote> + +<a name="fr741">What</a> a pity it is that I shall be beyond the +Bosphorus before the next number has passed the Tweed! But I yet +hope to light my pipe with it in Persia<a href= +"#f741"><sup>1</sup></a>.<br> +<br> +My Northern friends have accused me, with justice, of personality +towards their great literary Anthropophagus, Jeffery; but what +else was to be done with him and his dirty pack, who feed by +"lying and slandering," and slake their thirst by "evil +speaking"? I have adduced facts already well known, and of +<b>Jeffrey's</b> mind I have stated my free opinion, nor has he +thence sustained any injury:--what scavenger was ever soiled by +being pelted with mud? It may be said that I quit England because +I have censured there "persons of honour and wit about town;" but +I am coming back again, and their vengeance will keep hot till my +return. Those who know me can testify that my motives for leaving +England are very different from fears, literary or personal: +those who do not, may one day be convinced. Since the publication +of this thing, my name has not been concealed; I have been mostly +in London, ready to answer for my transgressions, and in daily +expectation of sundry cartels; but, alas! "the age of chivalry is +over," or, in the vulgar tongue, there is no spirit +now-a-days.<br> +<br> +There is a youth ycleped Hewson Clarke (subaudi <i>esquire</i>), +a sizer of Emanuel College, and, I believe, a denizen of +Berwick-upon-Tweed, whom I have introduced in these pages to much +better company than he has been accustomed to meet; he is, +notwithstanding, a very sad dog, and for no reason that I can +discover, except a personal quarrel with a bear, kept by me at +Cambridge to sit for a fellowship, and whom the jealousy of his +Trinity contemporaries prevented from success, has been abusing +me, and, what is worse, the defenceless innocent above mentioned, +in the <i>Satirist</i> for one year and some months. I am utterly +unconscious of having given him any provocation; indeed, I am +guiltless of having heard his name, till coupled with the +<i>Satirist</i>. He has therefore no reason to complain, and I +dare say that, like Sir Fretful Plagiary, he is rather +<i>pleased</i> than otherwise. I have now mentioned all who have +done me the honour to notice me and mine, that is, my bear and my +book, except the editor of the <i>Satirist</i>, who, it seems, is +a gentleman--God wot! I wish he could impart a little of his +gentility to his subordinate scribblers. <a name="fr742">I</a> +hear that Mr. <b>Jerningham</b><a href="#f742"><sup>2</sup></a> +is about to take up the cudgels for his Mæcenas, Lord +Carlisle. I hope not: he was one of the few, who, in the very +short intercourse I had with him, treated me with kindness when a +boy; and whatever he may say or do, "pour on, I will endure." I +have nothing further to add, save a general note of thanksgiving +to readers, purchasers, and publishers, and, in the words of +<i>Scott,</i> I wish + +<blockquote>"To all and each a fair good night,<br> + And rosy dreams and slumbers light."</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f741"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span></a> Ý The article never appeared, and Lord Byron, in +the <i>Hints from Horace</i>, taunted Jeffrey with a silence +which seemed to indicate that the critic was beaten from the +field.<br> +<a href="#fr741">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f742"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span></a> Ý Edward Jerningham (1727-1812), third son of Sir +George Jerningham, Bart., was an indefatigable versifier. Between +the publication of his first poem, <i>The Nunnery</i>, in 1766, +and his last, <i>The Old Bard's Farewell</i>, in 1812, he sent to +the press no less than thirty separate compositions. As a +contributor to the <i>British Album</i>, Gifford handled him +roughly in the <i>Baviad</i> (lines 21, 22); and Mathias, in a +note to <i>Pursuits of Literature</i>, brackets him with Payne +Knight as "ecrivain du commun et poëte vulgaire." He was a +dandy with a literary turn, who throughout a long life knew every +one who was worth knowing. Some of his letters have recently been +published (see <i>Jerningham Letters</i>, two vols., 1896).<br> +<a href="#fr742">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a><br> +<a href="#f797">cross-reference: return to Footnote 19 of +<i>Hints from Horace</i></a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section115"></a>Hints from Horace<a href="#f743"><span +style="font-size: 70%;"><sup>a</sup></span></a></h3> + +<br> +<b>being An Allusion in English Verse to the Epistle "ad Pisones, +de Arte Poeticâ," and Intended as a Sequel to <i>English +Bards, And Scotch Reviewers</i>.</b><br> +<br> +<blockquote>----"Ergo fungar vice cotis, acutum<br> + Reddere quæ ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi."<br> +<br> + <b>Hor</b>. <i>De Arte Poet</i>., II. 304 and 305.<br> +<br> +<br> + "Rhymes are diftlcult things--they are stubborn things, +Sir."<br> +<br> + <b>Fielding's</b> <i>Amelia</i>, Vol. iii. Book; and Chap. +v.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f743"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +a:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>Hints from Horace (Athens, Capuchin Convent, March +12, 1811); being an Imitation in English Verse from the Epistle, +etc.</blockquote> + +[MS. M.] + +<blockquote>Hints from Horace: being a Partial Imitation, in +English Verse, of the Epistle <i>Ad Pisones, De Arte +Poeticâ</i>; and intended as a sequel to <i>English Bards, +and Scotch Reviewers</i>.<br> +<br> +Athens, Franciscan Convent, March 12, 1811.</blockquote> + +[<i>Proof b</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr743">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> + + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section115a">Introduction to <i>Hints from +Horace</i></a></h3> + +<br> +Three MSS. of <i>Hints from Horace</i> are extant, two in the +possession of Lord Lovelace (MSS. L. a and b), and a third in the +possession of Mr. Murray (<i>MS. M</i>.).<br> +<br> +Proofs of lines 173-272 and 1-272 (<i>Proofs a, b</i>), are among +the Egerton MSS. in the British Museum. They were purchased from +the Rev. Alexander Dallas, January 12, 1867, and are, doubtless, +fragments of the proofs set up in type for Cawthorn in 1811. They +are in "book-form," and show that the volume was intended to be +uniform with the Fifth Edition of <i>English Bards, and Scotch +Reviewers</i>, of 1811. The text corresponds closely but not +exactly with that adopted by Murray in 1831, and does not embody +the variants of the several MSS. It is probable that complete +proofs were in Moore's possession at the time when he included +the selections from the <i>Hints</i> in his <i>Letters and +Journals</i>, pp. 263-269, and that the text of the entire poem +as published in 1831 was derived from this source. Selections, +numbering in all 156 lines, had already appeared in +<i>Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron</i>, by R. C. Dallas, +1824, pp. 104-113. Byron, estimating the merit by the difficulty +of the performance, rated the <i>Hints from Horace</i> +extravagantly high. He only forbore to publish them after the +success of <i>Childe Harold</i>, because he felt, as he states, +that he should be "heaping coals of fire upon his head" if he +were in his hour of triumph to put forth a sequel to a lampoon +provoked by failure. Nine years afterwards, when he resolved to +print the work with some omissions, he gravely maintained that it +excelled the productions of his mature genius. + +<blockquote>"As far," he said, "as versification goes, it is +good; and on looking back at what I wrote about that period, I am +astonished to see how little I have trained on. I wrote better +then than now; but that comes of my having fallen into the +atrocious bad taste of the times"</blockquote> + +[September 23, 1820]. The opinion of J. C. Hobhouse that the +<i>Hints</i> would require "a good deal of slashing" to adapt +them to the passing hour, and other considerations, again led +Byron to suspend the publication. Authors are frequently bad +judges of their own works, but of all the literary hallucinations +upon record there are none which exceed the mistaken preferences +of Lord Byron. Shortly after the appearance of <i>The Corsair</i> +he fancied that <i>English Bards</i> was still his masterpiece; +when all his greatest works had been produced, he contended that +his translation from Pulci was his "grand performance,--the best +thing he ever did in his life;" and throughout the whole of his +literary career he regarded these <i>Hints from Horace</i> with a +special and unchanging fondness.<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section115b">Hints from Horace</a></h3> + +<br> +<b><a name="fr744">Athens</a>: Capuchin Convent, March. 12, +1811<a href="#f744"><sup>a</sup></a>.</b><br> +<br> +<table summary="Hints from Horace" border="0" cellspacing="5" +cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td><a name="fr745">Who</a> would not laugh, if Lawrence<a href= +"#f745"><sup>1</sup></a>, hired to grace<a href= +"#f746"><sup>b</sup></a> <br> +<a name="fr746">His</a> costly canvas with each flattered +face,<br> +Abused his art, till Nature, with a blush,<br> +Saw cits grow Centaurs underneath his brush?<br> +<a name="fr747">Or</a>, should some limner join, for show or +sale,<br> +A Maid of Honour to a Mermaid's tail<a href= +"#f747"><sup>c</sup></a>?<br> +Or low Dubost<a href="#f748"><sup>2</sup></a>--as once the world +has seen--<br> +<a name="fr748">Degrade</a> God's creatures in his graphic +spleen?<br> +Not all that forced politeness, which defends<br> +<a name="fr749">Fools</a> in their faults, could gag his grinning +friends.<br> +Believe me, Moschus, like that picture seems<a href= +"#f749"><sup>d</sup></a><br> +The book which, sillier than a sick man's dreams,<br> +Displays a crowd of figures incomplete,<br> +Poetic Nightmares, without head or feet.<br> + Poets and painters, as all artists know<a href= +"#f750"><sup>3</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr750">May</a> shoot a little with a lengthened bow;<br> +We claim this mutual mercy for our task,<br> +And grant in turn the pardon which we ask;<br> +But make not monsters spring from gentle dams--<br> +Birds breed not vipers, tigers nurse not lambs.<br> + A laboured, long Exordium, sometimes tends<br> +(Like patriot speeches) but to paltry ends<a href= +"#f751"><sup>f</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr751">And</a> nonsense in a lofty note goes down,<br> +As Pertness passes with a legal gown<a href= +"#f752"><sup>g</sup></a>:<br> +<a name="fr752">Thus</a> many a Bard describes in pompous +strain<a href="#f753"><sup>h</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr753">The</a> clear brook babbling through the goodly +plain:<br> +The groves of Granta, and her Gothic halls,<br> +King's Coll-Cam's stream-stained windows, and old walls:<br> +<a name="fr754">Or</a>, in adventurous numbers, neatly aims<br> +To paint a rainbow, or the river Thames<a href= +"#f754"><sup>3</sup></a>.<br> + You sketch a tree, and so perhaps may shine<a href= +"#f755"><sup>j</sup></a>--<br> +<a name="fr755">But</a> daub a shipwreck like an alehouse +sign;<br> +You plan a <i>vase</i>--it dwindles to a <i>pot</i>;<br> +Then glide down Grub-street--fasting and forgot:<br> +Laughed into Lethe by some quaint Review,<br> +Whose wit is never troublesome till--true.<br> +In fine, to whatsoever you aspire,<br> +Let it at least be simple and entire.<br> + The greater portion of the rhyming tribe<a href= +"#f756"><sup>k</sup></a><br> +(<a name="fr756">Give</a> ear, my friend, for thou hast been a +scribe)<br> +Are led astray by some peculiar lure<a href= +"#f757"><sup>m</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr757">I</a> labour to be brief--become obscure;<br> +One falls while following Elegance too fast;<br> +Another soars, inflated with Bombast;<br> +Too low a third crawls on, afraid to fly,<br> +He spins his subject to Satiety;<br> +<a name="fr758">Absurdly</a> varying, he at last engraves<br> +Fish in the woods, and boars beneath the waves<a href= +"#f758"><sup>n</sup></a>!<br> + Unless your care's exact, your judgment nice,<br> +The flight from Folly leads but into Vice;<br> +None are complete, all wanting in some part,<br> +<a name="fr759">Like</a> certain tailors, limited in art.<br> +For galligaskins Slowshears is your man<a href= +"#f759"><sup>o</sup></a><br> +But coats must claim another artisan<a href= +"#f760"><sup>4</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr760">Now</a> this to me, I own, seems much the +same<br> +As Vulcan's feet to bear Apollo's frame;<br> +Or, with a fair complexion, to expose<br> +Black eyes, black ringlets, but--a bottle nose!<br> + Dear Authors! suit your topics to your strength,<br> +And ponder well your subject, and its length;<br> +Nor lift your load, before you're quite aware<br> +What weight your shoulders will, or will not, bear.<br> +But lucid Order, and Wit's siren voice<a href= +"#f761"><sup>p</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr761">Await</a> the Poet, skilful in his choice;<br> +With native Eloquence he soars along,<br> +Grace in his thoughts, and Music in his song.<br> + Let Judgment teach him wisely to combine<br> +With future parts the now omitted line:<br> +This shall the Author choose, or that reject,<br> +Precise in style, and cautious to select;<br> +Nor slight applause will candid pens afford<br> +To him who furnishes a wanting word<a href= +"#f762"><sup>q</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr762">Then</a> fear not, if 'tis needful, to +produce<br> +Some term unknown, or obsolete in use,<br> +(As Pitt has furnished us a word or two<a href= +"#f763"><sup>5</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr763">Which</a> Lexicographers declined to do;)<br> +So you indeed, with care,--(but be content<br> +To take this license rarely)--may invent.<br> +New words find credit in these latter days,<br> +If neatly grafted on a Gallic phrase<a href= +"#f764"><sup>r</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr764">What</a> Chaucer, Spenser did, we scarce +refuse<br> +To Dryden's or to Pope's maturer Muse.<br> +If you can add a little, say why not,<br> +As well as William Pitt, and Walter Scott?<br> +Since they, by force of rhyme and force of lungs<a href= +"#f765"><sup>s</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr765">Enriched</a> our Island's ill-united tongues;<br> +'Tis then--and shall be--lawful to present<br> +Reform in writing, as in Parliament.<br> + As forests shed their foliage by degrees,<br> +So fade expressions which in season please;<br> +And we and ours, alas! are due to Fate,<br> +And works and words but dwindle to a date.<br> +Though as a Monarch nods, and Commerce calls<a href= +"#f766"><sup>t</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr766">Impetuous</a> rivers stagnate in canals;<br> +Though swamps subdued, and marshes drained, sustain<a href= +"#f767"><sup>u</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr767">The</a> heavy ploughshare and the yellow +grain,<br> +And rising ports along the busy shore<br> +Protect the vessel from old Ocean's roar,<br> +All, all, must perish; but, surviving last,<br> +<a name="fr768">The</a> love of Letters half preserves the +past.<br> +True, some decay, yet not a few revive;<a href= +"#f768"><sup>6</sup></a> <a href="#f769"><sup>v</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr769">Though</a> those shall sink, which now appear to +thrive,<br> +As Custom arbitrates, whose shifting sway<a href= +"#f770"><sup>w</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr770">Our</a> life and language must alike obey.<br> + The immortal wars which Gods and Angels wage,<br> +Are they not shown in Milton's sacred page?<br> +<a name="fr771">His</a> strain will teach what numbers best +belong<br> +To themes celestial told in Epic song<a href= +"#f771"><sup>x</sup></a>.<br> + The slow, sad stanza will correctly paint<br> +The Lover's anguish, or the Friend's complaint.<br> +But which deserves the Laurel--Rhyme or Blank<a href= +"#f772"><sup>y</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr772">Which</a> holds on Helicon the higher rank?<br> +Let squabbling critics by themselves dispute<br> +This point, as puzzling as a Chancery suit.<br> + Satiric rhyme first sprang from selfish spleen.<br> +You doubt--see Dryden, Pope, St. Patrick's Dean<a href= +"#f773"><sup>7</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr773">Blank</a> verse is now, with one consent, +allied<br> +To Tragedy, and rarely quits her side.<br> +Though mad Almanzor<a href="#f774"><sup>8</sup></a> rhymed in +Dryden's days,<br> +No sing-song Hero rants in modern plays;<br> +Whilst modest Comedy her verse foregoes<br> +For jest and <i>pun</i><a href="#f775"><sup>9</sup></a> in very +middling prose.<br> +<a name="fr775">Not</a> that our Bens or Beaumonts show the +worse,<br> +Or lose one point, because they wrote in verse.<br> +But so Thalia pleases to appear<a href= +"#f776"><sup>z</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr776">Poor</a> Virgin! damned some twenty times a +year!<br> +Whate'er the scene, let this advice have weight:--<br> +Adapt your language to your Hero's state.<br> +At times Melpomene forgets to groan,<br> +And brisk Thalia takes a serious tone;<br> +Nor unregarded will the act pass by<br> +Where angry Townly<a href="#f777"><sup>10</sup></a> "lifts his +voice on high."<br> +<a name="fr777">Again</a>, our Shakespeare limits verse to +Kings,<br> +<a name="fr778">When</a> common prose will serve for common +things;<br> +<a name="fr779">And</a> lively Hal resigns heroic ire<a href= +"#f778"><sup>A</sup></a>,--<br> +<a name="fr780">To</a> "hollaing Hotspur"<a href= +"#f779"><sup>11</sup></a> and his sceptred sire<a href= +"#f780"><sup>B</sup></a>.<br> + 'Tis not enough, ye Bards, with all your art,<br> +To polish poems; they must touch the heart:<br> +Where'er the scene be laid, whate'er the song,<br> +Still let it bear the hearer's soul along;<br> +Command your audience or to smile or weep,<br> +Whiche'er may please you--anything but sleep.<br> +The Poet claims our tears; but, by his leave,<br> +Before I shed them, let me see <i>him</i> grieve.<br> + If banished Romeo feigned nor sigh nor tear,<br> +Lulled by his languor, I could sleep or sneer<a href= +"#f781"><sup>C</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr781">Sad</a> words, no doubt, become a serious +face,<br> +And men look angry in the proper place.<br> +At double meanings folks seem wondrous sly,<br> +And Sentiment prescribes a pensive eye;<br> +For Nature formed at first the inward man,<br> +And actors copy Nature--when they can.<br> +She bids the beating heart with rapture bound,<br> +Raised to the Stars, or levelled with the ground;<br> +And for Expression's aid, 'tis said, or sung<a href= +"#f782"><sup>D</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr782">She</a> gave our mind's interpreter--the +tongue,<br> +Who, worn with use, of late would fain dispense<br> +(At least in theatres) with common sense;<br> +O'erwhelm with sound the Boxes, Gallery, Pit,<br> +And raise a laugh with anything--but Wit.<br> + To skilful writers it will much import,<br> +Whence spring their scenes, from common life or Court;<br> +<a name="fr783">Whether</a> they seek applause by smile or +tear,<br> +To draw a Lying Valet,<a href="#f783"><sup>12</sup></a> or a +Lear,<a href="#f784"><sup>13</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr784">A</a> sage, or rakish youngster wild from +school,<br> +A wandering Peregrine, or plain John Bull;<br> +All persons please when Nature's voice prevails,<br> +Scottish or Irish, born in Wilts or Wales.<br> + Or follow common fame, or forge a plot;<a href= +"#f785"><sup>E</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr785">Who</a> cares if mimic heroes lived or not!<br> +One precept serves to regulate the scene:<br> +Make it appear as if it <i>might</i> have <i>been</i>.<br> + If some Drawcansir<a href="#f786"><sup>14</sup></a> you aspire +to draw,<br> +<a name="fr786">Present</a> him raving, and above all law:<br> +If female furies in your scheme are planned,<br> +Macbeth's fierce dame is ready to your hand;<br> +For tears and treachery, for good and evil,<br> +Constance, King Richard, Hamlet, and the Devil!<br> +But if a new design you dare essay,<br> +And freely wander from the beaten way,<br> +True to your characters, till all be past,<br> +Preserve consistency from first to last.<br> + Tis hard<a href="#f787"><sup>15</sup></a> to venture where our +betters fail, [xxx]<br> +<a name="fr787">Or</a> lend fresh interest to a twice-told +tale;<br> +And yet, perchance,'tis wiser to prefer<br> +A hackneyed plot, than choose a new, and err;<br> +Yet copy not too closely, but record,<br> +More justly, thought for thought than word for word;<br> +Nor trace your Prototype through narrow ways,<br> +But only follow where he merits praise.<br> + For you, young Bard! whom luckless fate may lead<a href= +"#f788"><sup>16</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr788">To</a> tremble on the nod of all who read,<br> +Ere your first score of cantos Time unrolls,<a href= +"#f789"><sup>F</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr789">Beware</a>--for God's sake, don't begin like +Bowles!<br> +"Awake a louder and a loftier strain,"<a href= +"#f790"><sup>17</sup></a>--<br> +<a name="fr790">And</a> pray, what follows from his boiling +brain?--<br> +He sinks to Southey's level in a trice,<br> +Whose Epic Mountains never fail in mice!<br> +Not so of yore awoke your mighty Sire<br> +The tempered warblings of his master-lyre;<br> +Soft as the gentler breathing of the lute,<br> +"Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit"<br> +He speaks, but, as his subject swells along,<br> +Earth, Heaven, and Hades echo with the song."<a href= +"#f791"><sup>G</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr791">Still</a> to the "midst of things" he hastens +on,<br> +As if we witnessed all already done;<a href= +"#f792"><sup>H</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr792">Leaves</a> on his path whatever seems too +mean<br> +To raise the subject, or adorn the scene;<br> +Gives, as each page improves upon the sight,<br> +Not smoke from brightness, but from darkness--light;<br> +And truth and fiction with such art compounds,<br> +We know not where to fix their several bounds.<br> + If you would please the Public, deign to hear<br> +What soothes the many-headed monster's ear:<a href= +"#f793"><sup>J</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr793">If</a> your heart triumph when the hands of +all<br> +Applaud in thunder at the curtain's fall,<br> +Deserve those plaudits--study Nature's page,<br> +And sketch the striking traits of every age;<br> +While varying Man and varying years unfold<br> +Life's little tale, so oft, so vainly told;<br> +Observe his simple childhood's dawning days,<br> +His pranks, his prate, his playmates, and his plays:<br> +<a name="fr794">Till</a> time at length the mannish tyro +weans,<br> +And prurient vice outstrips his tardy teens!<a href= +"#f794"><sup>K</sup></a><br> + Behold him Freshman! forced no more to groan<a href= +"#f795"><sup>M</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr795">O'er</a> Virgil's<a href= +"#f796"><sup>18</sup></a> devilish verses and his own;<br> +<a name="fr796">Prayers</a> are too tedious, Lectures too +abstruse,<br> +<a name="fr797">He</a> flies from Tavell's frown to "Fordham's +Mews;"<br> +(Unlucky Tavell!<a href="#f797"><sup>19</sup></a> doomed to daily +cares<a href="#f798"><sup>N</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr798">By</a> pugilistic pupils, and by bears,)<br> +Fines, Tutors, tasks, Conventions threat in vain,<br> +Before hounds, hunters, and Newmarket Plain.<br> +Rough with his elders, with his equals rash,<br> +Civil to sharpers, prodigal of cash;<br> +Constant to nought--save hazard and a whore,<a href= +"#f799"><sup>P</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr799">Yet</a> cursing both--for both have made him +sore:<br> +Unread (unless since books beguile disease,<br> +<a name="fr800">The</a> P----x becomes his passage to +Degrees);<br> +Fooled, pillaged, dunned, he wastes his terms away,<a href= +"#f800"><sup>Q</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr801">And</a> unexpelled, perhaps, retires M.A.;<br> +Master of Arts! as <i>hells</i> and <i>clubs</i><a href= +"#f801"><sup>20</sup></a> proclaim,<a href= +"#f802"><sup>R</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr802">Where</a> scarce a blackleg bears a brighter +name!<br> + Launched into life, extinct his early fire,<br> +He apes the selfish prudence of his Sire;<br> +Marries for money, chooses friends for rank,<br> +Buys land, and shrewdly trusts not to the Bank;<br> +Sits in the Senate; gets a son and heir;<br> +Sends him to Harrow--for himself was there.<br> +Mute, though he votes, unless when called to cheer,<br> +His son's so sharp--he'll see the dog a Peer!<br> + Manhood declines--Age palsies every limb;<br> +He quits the scene--or else the scene quits him;<br> +Scrapes wealth, o'er each departing penny grieves,<a href= +"#f803"><sup>S</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr803">And</a> Avarice seizes all Ambition leaves;<br> +Counts cent per cent, and smiles, or vainly frets,<br> +O'er hoards diminished by young Hopeful's debts;<br> +Weighs well and wisely what to sell or buy,<br> +Complete in all life's lessons--but to die;<br> +Peevish and spiteful, doting, hard to please,<br> +Commending every time, save times like these;<br> +Crazed, querulous, forsaken, half forgot,<br> +Expires unwept--is buried--Let him rot!<br> + <a name="fr804">But</a> from the Drama let me not digress,<br> +Nor spare my precepts, though they please you less.<a href= +"#f804"><sup>T</sup></a><br> +Though Woman weep, and hardest hearts are stirred,<a href= +"#f805"><sup>U</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr805">When</a> what is done is rather seen than +heard,<br> +Yet many deeds preserved in History's page<br> +Are better told than acted on the stage;<br> +The ear sustains what shocks the timid eye,<br> +And Horror thus subsides to Sympathy,<br> +True Briton all beside, I here am French--<br> +Bloodshed 'tis surely better to retrench:<br> +The gladiatorial gore we teach to flow<br> +In tragic scenes disgusts though but in show;<br> +We hate the carnage while we see the trick,<br> +And find small sympathy in being sick.<br> +Not on the stage the regicide Macbeth<br> +Appals an audience with a Monarch's death;<a href= +"#f806"><sup>V</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr806">To</a> gaze when sable Hubert threats to sear<br> +Young Arthur's eyes, can <i>ours</i> or <i>Nature</i> bear?<br> +A haltered heroine<a href="#f807"><sup>21</sup></a> Johnson +sought to slay--<br> +<a name="fr807">We</a> saved Irene, but half damned the play,<br> +And (Heaven be praised!) our tolerating times<br> +Stint Metamorphoses to Pantomimes;<br> +And Lewis'<a href="#f808"><sup>22</sup></a> self, with all his +sprites, would quake<br> +<a name="fr808">To</a> change Earl Osmond's negro to a snake!<br> +Because, in scenes exciting joy or grief,<br> +We loathe the action which exceeds belief:<br> +<a name="fr809">And</a> yet, God knows! what may not authors +do,<br> +Whose Postscripts prate of dyeing "heroines blue"?<a href= +"#f809"><sup>23</sup></a><br> + Above all things, <i>Dan</i> Poet, if you can,<br> +Eke out your acts, I pray, with mortal man,<br> +Nor call a ghost, unless some cursed scrape<a href= +"#f810"><sup>W</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr810">Must</a> open ten trap-doors for your escape.<br> +Of all the monstrous things I'd fain forbid,<br> +I loathe an Opera worse than Dennis did;<a href= +"#f811"><sup>24</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr811">Where</a> good and evil persons, right or +wrong,<br> +Rage, love, and aught but moralise--in song.<br> +Hail, last memorial of our foreign friends,<a href= +"#f812"><sup>X</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr812">Which</a> Gaul allows, and still Hesperia +lends!<br> +Napoleon's edicts no embargo lay<br> +On whores--spies--singers--wisely shipped away.<br> +Our giant Capital, whose squares are spread<a href= +"#f813"><sup>Y</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr813">Where</a> rustics earned, and now may beg, their +bread,<br> +In all iniquity is grown so nice,<br> +It scorns amusements which are not of price.<br> +<a name="fr814">Hence</a> the pert shopkeeper, whose throbbing +ear<br> +Aches with orchestras which he pays to hear,<a href= +"#f814"><sup>Z</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr815">Whom</a> shame, not sympathy, forbids to +snore,<br> +His anguish doubling by his own "encore;"<a href= +"#f815"><sup>Aa</sup></a><br> +Squeezed in "Fop's Alley,"<a href="#f816"><sup>25</sup></a> +jostled by the beaux,<br> +<a name="fr816">Teased</a> with his hat, and trembling for his +toes;<br> +Scarce wrestles through the night, nor tastes of ease,<br> +Till the dropped curtain gives a glad release:<br> +<a name="fr817">Why</a> this, and more, he suffers--can ye +guess?--<br> +Because it costs him dear, and makes him dress!<a href= +"#f817"><sup>26</sup></a><br> + So prosper eunuchs from Etruscan schools;<br> +<a name="fr818">Give</a> us but fiddlers, and they're sure of +fools!<br> +Ere scenes were played by many a reverend clerk,<a href= +"#f818"><sup>27</sup></a> <a href="#f819"><sup>Bb</sup></a><br> +(<a name="fr819">What</a> harm, if David danced before the +ark?)<a href="#f820"><sup>Cc</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr820">In</a> Christmas revels, simple country folks<br> +Were pleased with morrice-mumm'ry and coarse jokes.<br> +Improving years, with things no longer known,<br> +<a name="fr821">Produced</a> blithe Punch and merry Madame +Joan,<br> +Who still frisk on with feats so lewdly low,<a href= +"#f821"><sup>Dd</sup></a><br> +'Tis strange Benvolio<a href="#f822"><sup>28</sup></a> suffers +such a show;<br> +<a name="fr822">Suppressing</a> peer! to whom each vice gives +place,<a href="#f823"><sup>Ee</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr823">Oaths</a>, boxing, begging--all, save rout and +race.<br> + Farce followed Comedy, and reached her prime,<br> +In ever-laughing Foote's fantastic time:<a href= +"#f824"><sup>29</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr824">Mad</a> wag! who pardoned none, nor spared the +best,<br> +And turned some very serious things to jest.<br> +Nor Church nor State escaped his public sneers,<br> +Arms nor the Gown--Priests--Lawyers--Volunteers:<br> +"Alas, poor Yorick!" now for ever mute!<br> +Whoever loves a laugh must sigh for Foote.<br> + We smile, perforce, when histrionic scenes<br> +Ape the swoln dialogue of Kings and Queens,<br> +When "Crononhotonthologos must die,"<a href= +"#f825"><sup>30</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr825">And</a> Arthur struts in mimic majesty.<br> + Moschus! with whom once more I hope to sit,<a href= +"#f826"><sup>Ff</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr826">And</a> smile at folly, if we can't at wit;<br> +Yes, Friend! for thee I'll quit my cynic cell,<br> +And bear Swift's motto, "Vive la bagatelle!"<br> +Which charmed our days in each Ægean clime,<br> +As oft at home, with revelry and rhyme.<br> +Then may Euphrosyne, who sped the past,<br> +<a name="fr827">Soothe</a> thy Life's scenes, nor leave thee in +the last;<br> +But find in thine--like pagan Plato's bed,<a href= +"#f827"><sup>31</sup></a> <a href="#f828"><sup>Gg</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr828">Some</a> merry Manuscript of Mimes, when +dead.<br> + Now to the Drama let us bend our eyes,<br> +Where fettered by whig Walpole low she lies;<a href= +"#f829"><sup>32</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr829">Corruption</a> foiled her, for she feared her +glance;<br> +Decorum left her for an Opera dance!<br> +Yet Chesterfield,<a href="#f830"><sup>33</sup></a> whose polished +pen inveighs<br> +'<a name="fr830">Gainst</a> laughter, fought for freedom to our +Plays;<br> +Unchecked by Megrims of patrician brains,<br> +And damning Dulness of Lord Chamberlains.<br> +Repeal that act! again let Humour roam<br> +<a name="fr831">Wild</a> o'er the stage--we've time for tears at +home;<br> +Let Archer<a href="#f831"><sup>34</sup></a> plant the horns on +Sullen's brows,<br> +And Estifania gull her "Copper"<a href="#f832"><sup>35</sup></a> +spouse;<br> +<a name="fr832">The</a> moral's scant--but that may be +excused,<br> +Men go not to be lectured, but amused.<br> +<a name="fr833">He</a> whom our plays dispose to Good or Ill<br> +Must wear a head in want of Willis' skill;<a href= +"#f833"><sup>36</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr834">Aye</a>, but Macheath's example--psha!--no +more!<br> +It formed no thieves--the thief was formed before;<a href= +"#f834"><sup>37</sup></a><br> +And spite of puritans and Collier's curse,<a href= +"#f835"><sup>Hh</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr835">Plays</a> make mankind no better, and no worse.<a +href="#f836"><sup>38</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr836">Then</a> spare our stage, ye methodistic men!<br> +Nor burn damned Drury if it rise again.<a href= +"#f837"><sup>39</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr837">But</a> why to brain-scorched bigots thus +appeal?<br> +Can heavenly Mercy dwell with earthly Zeal?<br> +For times of fire and faggot let them hope!<br> +Times dear alike to puritan or Pope.<br> +As pious Calvin saw Servetus blaze,<br> +So would new sects on newer victims gaze.<br> +E'en now the songs of Solyma begin;<br> +Faith cants, perplexed apologist of Sin!<br> +<a name="fr838">While</a> the Lord's servant chastens whom he +loves,<br> +<a name="fr839">And</a> Simeon kicks,<a href= +"#f838"><sup>40</sup></a> where Baxter only "shoves."<a href= +"#f839"><sup>41</sup></a><br> + Whom Nature guides, so writes, that every dunce,<a href= +"#f840"><sup>Jj</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr840">Enraptured</a>, thinks to do the same at +once;<br> +But after inky thumbs and bitten nails,<a href= +"#f841"><sup>Kk</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr841">And</a> twenty scattered quires, the coxcomb +fails.<br> + Let Pastoral be dumb; for who can hope<br> +<a name="fr842">To</a> match the youthful eclogues of our +Pope?<br> +Yet his and Philips'<a href="#f842"><sup>42</sup></a> faults, of +different kind,<br> +For Art too rude, for Nature too refined,<a href= +"#f843"><sup>Mm</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr843">Instruct</a> how hard the medium 'tis to hit<br> +'Twixt too much polish and too coarse a wit.<br> + A vulgar scribbler, certes, stands disgraced<br> +In this nice age, when all aspire to taste;<br> +The dirty language, and the noisome jest,<br> +Which pleased in Swift of yore, we now detest;<br> +Proscribed not only in the world polite,<a href= +"#f844"><sup>Nn</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr844">But</a> even too nasty for a City Knight!<br> + Peace to Swift's faults! his wit hath made them pass,<br> +Unmatched by all, save matchless Hudibras!<br> +Whose author is perhaps the first we meet,<br> +Who from our couplet lopped two final feet;<br> +Nor less in merit than the longer line,<br> +This measure moves a favourite of the Nine.<br> +<a name="fr845">Though</a> at first view eight feet may seem in +vain<br> +Formed, save in Ode, to bear a serious strain,<a href= +"#f845"><sup>Pp</sup></a><br> +Yet Scott has shown our wondering isle of late<br> +This measure shrinks not from a theme of weight,<br> +And, varied skilfully, surpasses far<br> +Heroic rhyme, but most in Love and War,<br> +Whose fluctuations, tender or sublime,<br> +Are curbed too much by long-recurring rhyme.<br> + But many a skilful judge abhors to see,<br> +What few admire--irregularity.<br> +This some vouchsafe to pardon; but 'tis hard<br> +When such a word contents a British Bard.<br> + And must the Bard his glowing thoughts confine,<a href= +"#f846"><sup>Qq</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr846">Lest</a> Censure hover o'er some faulty line?<br> +Remove whate'er a critic may suspect,<br> +To gain the paltry suffrage of "Correct"?<br> +Or prune the spirit of each daring phrase,<br> +To fly from Error, not to merit Praise?<br> + Ye, who seek finished models, never cease,<a href= +"#f847"><sup>Rr</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr847">By</a> day and night, to read the works of +Greece.<br> +But our good Fathers never bent their brains<br> +To heathen Greek, content with native strains.<br> +The few who read a page, or used a pen,<br> +Were satisfied with Chaucer and old Ben;<br> +The jokes and numbers suited to their taste<br> +Were quaint and careless, anything but chaste;<br> +Yet, whether right or wrong the ancient rules,<br> +It will not do to call our Fathers fools!<br> +Though you and I, who eruditely know<br> +To separate the elegant and low,<br> +Can also, when a hobbling line appears,<br> +Detect with fingers--in default of ears.<br> + In sooth I do not know, or greatly care<br> +To learn, who our first English strollers were;<br> +Or if, till roofs received the vagrant art,<br> +Our Muse, like that of Thespis, kept a cart;<br> +But this is certain, since our Shakespeare's days,<br> +There's pomp enough--if little else--in plays;<br> +Nor will Melpomene ascend her Throne<a href= +"#f848"><sup>Ss</sup></a> <br> +<a name="fr848">Without</a> high heels, white plume, and Bristol +stone.<br> + Old Comedies still meet with much applause,<br> +Though too licentious for dramatic laws;<br> +<a name="fr849">At</a> least, we moderns, wisely, 'tis +confest,<br> +Curtail, or silence, the lascivious jest.<a href= +"#f849"><sup>Tt</sup></a><br> + Whate'er their follies, and their faults beside,<br> +Our enterprising Bards pass nought untried;<br> +Nor do they merit slight applause who choose<br> +An English subject for an English Muse,<br> +And leave to minds which never dare invent<br> +French flippancy and German sentiment.<br> +Where is that living language which could claim<br> +Poetic more, as philosophic, fame,<br> +<a name="fr850">If</a> all our Bards, more patient of delay,<br> +Would stop, like Pope, to polish by the way?<a href= +"#f850"><sup>43</sup></a><br> + Lords of the quill, whose critical assaults<br> +O'erthrow whole quartos with their quires of faults,<a href= +"#f851"><sup>Uu</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr851">Who</a> soon detect, and mark where'er we +fail,<br> +And prove our marble with too nice a nail!<br> +Democritus himself was not so bad;<br> +He only <i>thought</i>--but <i>you</i> would make us--mad!<br> + But truth to say, most rhymers rarely guard<br> +Against that ridicule they deem so hard;<br> +In person negligent, they wear, from sloth,<br> +Beards of a week, and nails of annual growth;<br> +Reside in garrets, fly from those they meet,<br> +And walk in alleys rather than the street.<br> + <br> + With little rhyme, less reason, if you please,<br> +The name of Poet may be got with ease,<br> +So that not tuns of helleboric juice<a href= +"#f852"><sup>Vv</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr852">Shall</a> ever turn your head to any use;<br> +<a name="fr853">Write</a> but like Wordsworth--live beside a +lake,<br> +And keep your bushy locks a year from Blake;<a href= +"#f853"><sup>44</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr854">Then</a> print your book, once more return to +town,<br> +And boys shall hunt your Bardship up and down.<a href= +"#f854"><sup>45</sup></a><br> +Am I not wise, if such some poets' plight,<br> +To purge in spring--like Bayes<a href= +"#f855"><sup>46</sup></a>--before I write?<br> +<a name="fr855">If</a> this precaution softened not my bile,<br> +I know no scribbler with a madder style;<br> +But since (perhaps my feelings are too nice)<br> +I cannot purchase Fame at such a price,<br> +I'll labour gratis as a grinders' wheel,<a href= +"#f856"><sup>Ww</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr856">And</a>, blunt myself, give edge to other's +steel,<br> +Nor write at all, unless to teach the art<br> +To those rehearsing for the Poet's part;<br> +From Horace show the pleasing paths of song,<a href= +"#f857"><sup>Xx</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr857">And</a> from my own example--what is wrong.<br> + Though modern practice sometimes differs quite,<br> +'Tis just as well to think before you write;<br> +Let every book that suits your theme be read,<br> +So shall you trace it to the fountain-head.<br> + He who has learned the duty which he owes<br> +To friends and country, and to pardon foes;<br> +Who models his deportment as may best<br> +Accord with Brother, Sire, or Stranger-guest;<br> +Who takes our Laws and Worship as they are,<br> +Nor roars reform for Senate, Church, and Bar;<br> +In practice, rather than loud precept, wise,<br> +Bids not his tongue, but heart, philosophize:<br> +Such is the man the Poet should rehearse,<br> +As joint exemplar of his life and verse.<br> + Sometimes a sprightly wit, and tale well told,<br> +Without much grace, or weight, or art, will hold<br> +A longer empire o'er the public mind<br> +Than sounding trifles, empty, though refined.<br> + Unhappy Greece! thy sons of ancient days<br> +The Muse may celebrate with perfect praise,<br> +Whose generous children narrowed not their hearts<br> +With Commerce, given alone to Arms and Arts.<a href= +"#f858"><sup>Yy</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr858">Our</a> boys (save those whom public schools +compel<br> +To "Long and Short" before they're taught to spell)<br> +From frugal fathers soon imbibe by rote,<br> +"A penny saved, my lad, 's a penny got."<br> +Babe of a city birth! from sixpence take<a href= +"#f859"><sup>Zz</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr859">The</a> third, how much will the remainder +make?--<br> +"<a name="fr860">A</a> groat."--"Ah, bravo! Dick hath done the +sum!<a href="#f860"><sup>aA</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr861">He'll</a> swell my fifty thousand to a Plum."<a +href="#f861"><sup>47</sup></a><br> + They whose young souls receive this rust betimes,<br> +'Tis clear, are fit for anything but rhymes;<br> +And Locke will tell you, that the father's right<br> +<a name="fr862">Who</a> hides all verses from his children's +sight;<br> +For Poets (says this Sage<a href="#f862"><sup>48</sup></a>, and +many more,)<br> +Make sad mechanics with their lyric lore:<a href= +"#f863"><sup>bB</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr863">And</a> Delphi now, however rich of old,<br> +<a name="fr864">Discovers</a> little silver, and less gold,<br> +<a name="fr865">Because</a> Parnassus, though a Mount divine,<br> +<a name="fr866">Is</a> poor as Irus,<a href= +"#f864"><sup>49</sup></a> or an Irish mine.<a href= +"#f865"><sup>50</sup></a> <a href="#f866"><sup>cC</sup></a><br> + Two objects always should the Poet move,<br> +Or one or both,--to please or to improve.<br> +Whate'er you teach, be brief, if you design<br> +For our remembrance your didactic line;<br> +<a name="fr867">Redundance</a> places Memory on the rack,<br> +For brains may be o'erloaded, like the back.<a href= +"#f867"><sup>dD</sup></a><br> + Fiction does best when taught to look like Truth,<br> +And fairy fables bubble none but youth:<br> +Expect no credit for too wondrous tales,<br> +Since Jonas only springs alive from Whales!<br> + Young men with aught but Elegance dispense;<br> +Maturer years require a little Sense.<br> +To end at once:--that Bard for all is fit<a href= +"#f868"><sup>eE</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr868">Who</a> mingles well instruction with his +wit;<br> +For him Reviews shall smile; for him o'erflow<br> +The patronage of Paternoster-row;<br> +His book, with Longman's liberal aid, shall pass<br> +(Who ne'er despises books that bring him brass);<br> +Through three long weeks the taste of London lead,<br> +And cross St. George's Channel and the Tweed.<br> +But every thing has faults, nor is't unknown<br> +That harps and fiddles often lose their tone,<br> +And wayward voices, at their owner's call,<br> +With all his best endeavours, only squall;<br> +<a name="fr869">Dogs</a> blink their covey, flints withhold the +spark,<br> +<a name="fr870">And</a> double-barrels (damn them!) miss their +mark.<a href="#f869"><sup>51</sup></a> <a href= +"#f870"><sup>fF</sup></a><br> +Where frequent beauties strike the reader's view,<br> +We must not quarrel for a blot or two;<br> +But pardon equally to books or men,<br> +The slips of Human Nature, and the Pen.<br> +Yet if an author, spite of foe or friend,<br> +Despises all advice too much to mend,<br> +But ever twangs the same discordant string,<br> +<a name="fr871">Give</a> him no quarter, howsoe'er he sing.<br> +Let Havard's<a href="#f871"><sup>52</sup></a> fate o'ertake him, +who, for once,<br> +Produced a play too dashing for a dunce:<br> +At first none deemed it his; but when his name<br> +Announced the fact--what then?--it lost its fame.<br> +Though all deplore when Milton deigns to doze,<a href= +"#f872"><sup>gG</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr872">In</a> a long work 'tis fair to steal repose.<br> +As Pictures, so shall Poems be; some stand<br> +The critic eye, and please when near at hand;<a href= +"#f873"><sup>hH</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr873">But</a> others at a distance strike the +sight;<br> +This seeks the shade, but that demands the light,<br> +Nor dreads the connoisseur's fastidious view,<br> +But, ten times scrutinised, is ten times new.<br> +Parnassian pilgrims! ye whom chance, or choice,<a href= +"#f874"><sup>jJ</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr874">Hath</a> led to listen to the Muse's voice,<br> +Receive this counsel, and be timely wise;<br> +Few reach the Summit which before you lies.<br> +Our Church and State, our Courts and Camps, concede<br> +Reward to very moderate heads indeed!<br> +<a name="fr875">In</a> these plain common sense will travel +far;<br> +All are not Erskines who mislead the Bar:<a href= +"#f875"><sup>53</sup></a> <a href="#f876"><sup>kK</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr876">But</a> Poesy between the best and worst<br> +No medium knows; you must be last or first;<br> +<a name="fr877">For</a> middling Poets' miserable volumes<br> +Are damned alike by Gods, and Men, and Columns.<a href= +"#f877"><sup>mM</sup></a><br> +Again, my Jeffrey--as that sound inspires,<a href= +"#f878"><sup>54</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr878">How</a> wakes my bosom to its wonted fires!<br> +Fires, such as gentle Caledonians feel<br> +When Southrons writhe upon their critic wheel,<br> +Or mild Eclectics,<a href="#f879"><sup>55</sup></a> when some, +worse than Turks,<br> +<a name="fr879">Would</a> rob poor Faith to decorate "Good +Works."<br> +Such are the genial feelings them canst claim--<br> +My Falcon flies not at ignoble game.<br> +Mightiest of all Dunedin's beasts of chase!<br> +For thee my Pegasus would mend his pace.<br> +Arise, my Jeffrey! or my inkless pen<br> +Shall never blunt its edge on meaner men;<br> +Till thee or thine mine evil eye discerns,<br> +"Alas! I cannot strike at wretched kernes."<a href= +"#f880"><sup>56</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr880">Inhuman</a> Saxon! wilt thou then resign<br> +A Muse and heart by choice so wholly thine?<br> +Dear d--d contemner of my schoolboy songs,<br> +Hast thou no vengeance for my Manhood's wrongs?<br> +If unprovoked thou once could bid me bleed,<br> +Hast thou no weapon for my daring deed?<br> +What! not a word!--and am I then so low?<br> +Wilt thou forbear, who never spared a foe?<br> +Hast thou no wrath, or wish to give it vent?<br> +No wit for Nobles, Dunces by descent?<br> +No jest on "minors," quibbles on a name,<a href= +"#f881"><sup>57</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr881">Nor</a> one facetious paragraph of blame?<br> +Is it for this on Ilion I have stood,<br> +And thought of Homer less than Holyrood?<br> +On shore of Euxine or Ægean sea,<br> +My hate, untravelled, fondly turned to thee.<br> +Ah! let me cease! in vain my bosom burns,<br> +From Corydon unkind Alexis turns:<a href= +"#f882"><sup>58</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr882">Thy</a> rhymes are vain; thy Jeffrey then +forego,<br> +Nor woo that anger which he will not show.<br> +What then?--Edina starves some lanker son,<br> +To write an article thou canst not shun;<br> +Some less fastidious Scotchman shall be found,<br> +As bold in Billingsgate, though less renowned.<br> + As if at table some discordant dish,<a href= +"#f883"><sup>59</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr883">Should</a> shock our optics, such as frogs for +fish;<br> +As oil in lieu of butter men decry,<br> +And poppies please not in a modern pie'<a href= +"#f884"><sup>nN</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr884">If</a> all such mixtures then be half a +crime,<br> +We must have Excellence to relish rhyme.<br> +Mere roast and boiled no Epicure invites;<br> +Thus Poetry disgusts, or else delights.<br> + Who shoot not flying rarely touch a gun:<br> +Will he who swims not to the river run?<br> +And men unpractised in exchanging knocks<br> +Must go to Jackson<a href="#f885"><sup>60</sup></a> ere they dare +to box.<br> +<a name="fr885">Whate'er</a> the weapon, cudgel, fist, or +foil,<br> +None reach expertness without years of toil;<br> +But fifty dunces can, with perfect ease,<br> +Tag twenty thousand couplets, when they please.<br> +Why not?--shall I, thus qualified to sit<br> +<a name="fr886">For</a> rotten boroughs, never show my wit?<br> +Shall I, whose fathers with the "Quorum" sate,<a href= +"#f886"><sup>pP</sup></a><br> +And lived in freedom on a fair estate;<br> +Who left me heir, with stables, kennels, packs,<a href= +"#f887"><sup>qQ</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr887">To</a> <i>all</i> their income, and +to--<i>twice</i> its tax;<br> +Whose form and pedigree have scarce a fault,<br> +Shall I, I say, suppress my Attic Salt?<br> + Thus think "the Mob of Gentlemen;" but you,<br> +Besides all this, must have some Genius too.<br> +Be this your sober judgment, and a rule,<br> +And print not piping hot from Southey's school,<br> +Who (ere another Thalaba appears),<br> +I trust, will spare us for at least nine years.<br> +And hark'ye, Southey!<a href="#f888"><sup>61</sup></a> pray--but +don't be vexed--<br> +<a name="fr888">Burn</a> all your last three works--and half the +next.<br> +<a name="fr889">But</a> why this vain advice? once published, +books<br> +Can never be recalled--from pastry-cooks!<a href= +"#f889"><sup>rR</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr890">Though</a> "Madoc," with "Pucelle,"<a href= +"#f890"><sup>62</sup></a> instead of Punk,<br> +<a name="fr891">May</a> travel back to Quito--on a trunk!<a href= +"#f891"><sup>63</sup></a><br> + Orpheus, we learn from Ovid and Lempriere,<br> +Led all wild beasts but Women by the ear;<br> +And had he fiddled at the present hour,<br> +We'd seen the Lions waltzing in the Tower;<a href= +"#f892"><sup>64</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr892">And</a> old Amphion, such were minstrels +then,<br> +Had built St. Paul's without the aid of Wren.<br> +Verse too was Justice, and the Bards of Greece<br> +Did more than constables to keep the peace;<br> +Abolished cuckoldom with much applause,<br> +Called county meetings, and enforced the laws,<br> +Cut down crown influence with reforming scythes,<br> +And served the Church--without demanding tithes;<br> +And hence, throughout all Hellas and the East,<br> +Each Poet was a Prophet and a Priest,<br> +Whose old-established Board of Joint Controls<a href= +"#f893"><sup>65</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr893">Included</a> kingdoms in the cure of souls.<br> + Next rose the martial Homer, Epic's prince,<br> +And Fighting's been in fashion ever since;<br> +And old Tyrtæus, when the Spartans warred,<br> +(A limping leader, but a lofty bard)<a href= +"#f894"><sup>sS</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr894">Though</a> walled Ithome had resisted long,<br> +Reduced the fortress by the force of song.<br> + When Oracles prevailed, in times of old,<br> +In song alone Apollo's will was told.<a href= +"#f895"><sup>tT</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr895">Then</a> if your verse is what all verse should +be,<br> +And Gods were not ashamed on't, why should we?<br> + The Muse, like mortal females, may be wooed;<a href= +"#f896"><sup>66</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr896">In</a> turns she'll seem a Paphian, or a +prude;<br> +Fierce as a bride when first she feels affright,<br> +Mild as the same upon the second night;<br> +Wild as the wife of Alderman or Peer,<br> +Now for His Grace, and now a grenadier!<br> +Her eyes beseem, her heart belies, her zone--<br> +Ice in a crowd--and Lava when alone.<br> + If Verse be studied with some show of Art.<br> +Kind Nature always will perform her part;<br> +Though without Genius, and a native vein<br> +Of wit, we loathe an artificial strain,<br> +Yet Art and Nature joined will win the prize,<br> +Unless they act like us and our allies.<br> + The youth who trains to ride, or run a race,<br> +Must bear privations with unruffled face,<br> +Be called to labour when he thinks to dine,<br> +And, harder still, leave wenching and his wine.<br> +Ladies who sing, at least who sing at sight,<br> +Have followed Music through her farthest flight;<a href= +"#f897"><sup>uU</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr897">But</a> rhymers tell you neither more nor +less,<br> +"I've got a pretty poem for the Press;"<br> +And that's enough; then write and print so fast;--<br> +<a name="fr898">If</a> Satan take the hindmost, who'd be +last?<br> +They storm the Types, they publish, one and all,<a href= +"#f898"><sup>67</sup></a> <a href="#f899"><sup>vV</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr899">They</a> leap the counter, and they leave the +stall.<br> +Provincial Maidens, men of high command,<br> +Yea! Baronets have inked the bloody hand!<br> +Cash cannot quell them; Pollio played this prank,<a href= +"#f900"><sup>wW</sup></a><br> +(<a name="fr900">Then</a> Phoebus first found credit in a +Bank!)<br> +Not all the living only, but the dead,<br> +Fool on, as fluent as an Orpheus' Head;<a href= +"#f901"><sup>68</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr901">Damned</a> all their days, they posthumously +thrive,<br> +Dug up from dust, though buried when alive!<br> +Reviews record this epidemic crime,<br> +Those Books of Martyrs to the rage for rhyme.<br> +Alas! woe worth the scribbler! often seen<br> +In Morning Post, or Monthly Magazine.<br> +There lurk his earlier lays; but soon, hot pressed,<a href= +"#f902"><sup>xX</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr902">Behold</a> a Quarto!--Tarts must tell the +rest.<br> +Then leave, ye wise, the Lyre's precarious chords<br> +To muse-mad baronets, or madder lords,<a href= +"#f903"><sup>yY</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr903">Or</a> country Crispins, now grown somewhat +stale,<br> +Twin Doric minstrels, drunk with Doric ale!<br> +<a name="fr904">Hark</a> to those notes, narcotically soft!<br> +<a name="fr905">The</a> Cobbler-Laureats<a href= +"#f904"><sup>69</sup></a> sing to Capel Lofft!<a href= +"#f905"><sup>70</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr906">Till</a>, lo! that modern Midas, as he hears,<a +href="#f906"><sup>zZ</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr907">Adds</a> an ell growth to his egregious ears!<a +href="#f907"><sup>AA</sup></a><br> +There lives one Druid, who prepares in time<a href= +"#f908"><sup>71</sup></a><br> +'<a name="fr908">Gainst</a> future feuds his poor revenge of +rhyme;<br> +Racks his dull Memory, and his duller Muse,<br> +To publish faults which Friendship should excuse.<br> +If Friendship's nothing, Self-regard might teach<br> +More polished usage of his parts of speech.<br> +But what is shame, or what is aught to him?<a href= +"#f909"><sup>BB</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr909">He</a> vents his spleen, or gratifies his +whim.<br> +Some fancied slight has roused his lurking hate,<br> +Some folly crossed, some jest, or some debate;<br> +Up to his den Sir Scribbler hies, and soon<br> +The gathered gall is voided in Lampoon.<br> +Perhaps at some pert speech you've dared to frown,<br> +Perhaps your Poem may have pleased the Town:<br> +If so, alas! 'tis nature in the man--<br> +May Heaven forgive you, for he never can!<br> +Then be it so; and may his withering Bays<br> +Bloom fresh in satire, though they fade in praise<br> +While his lost songs no more shall steep and stink<br> +The dullest, fattest weeds on Lethe's brink,<br> +But springing upwards from the sluggish mould,<br> +<a name="fr910">Be</a> (what they never were before) +be--sold!<br> +Should some rich Bard (but such a monster now,<a href= +"#f910"><sup>72</sup></a><br> +In modern Physics, we can scarce allow),<a href= +"#f911"><sup>CC</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr911">Should</a> some pretending scribbler of the +Court,<br> +<a name="fr912">Some</a> rhyming Peer--there's plenty of the +sort--<a href="#f912"><sup>73</sup></a> <a href= +"#f913"><sup>DD</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr913">All</a> but one poor dependent priest +withdrawn,<br> +(Ah! too regardless of his Chaplain's yawn!)<br> +Condemn the unlucky Curate to recite<br> +Their last dramatic work by candle-light,<br> +How would the preacher turn each rueful leaf,<br> +Dull as his sermons, but not half so brief!<br> +Yet, since 'tis promised at the Rector's death,<br> +He'll risk no living for a little breath.<br> +Then spouts and foams, and cries at every line,<br> +(The Lord forgive him!) "Bravo! Grand! Divine!"<br> +Hoarse with those praises (which, by Flatt'ry fed,<a href= +"#f914"><sup>EE</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr914">Dependence</a> barters for her bitter bread),<br> +He strides and stamps along with creaking boot;<br> +Till the floor echoes his emphatic foot,<br> +Then sits again, then rolls his pious eye,<a href= +"#f915"><sup>FF</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr915">As</a> when the dying vicar will not die!<br> +Nor feels, forsooth, emotion at his heart;--<br> +But all Dissemblers overact their part.<br> + Ye, who aspire to "build the lofty rhyme,"<a href= +"#f916"><sup>74</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr916">Believe</a> not all who laud your false +"sublime;"<br> +But if some friend shall hear your work, and say,<br> +"Expunge that stanza, lop that line away,"<br> +And, after fruitless efforts, you return<br> +Without amendment, and he answers, "Burn!"<br> +That instant throw your paper in the fire,<br> +<a name="fr917">Ask</a> not his thoughts, or follow his +desire;<br> +But (if true Bard!) you scorn to condescend,<a href= +"#f917"><sup>GG</sup></a><br> +And will not alter what you can't defend,<br> +If you will breed this Bastard of your Brains,<a href= +"#f918"><sup>75</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr918">We'll</a> have no words--I've only lost my +pains.<br> + Yet, if you only prize your favourite thought,<br> +As critics kindly do, and authors ought;<br> +If your cool friend annoy you now and then,<br> +And cross whole pages with his plaguy pen;<br> +No matter, throw your ornaments aside,--<br> +Better let him than all the world deride.<br> +Give light to passages too much in shade,<br> +Nor let a doubt obscure one verse you've made;<br> +Your friend's a "Johnson," not to leave one word,<br> +However trifling, which may seem absurd;<br> +<a name="fr919">Such</a> erring trifles lead to serious ills,<br> +And furnish food for critics, or their quills.<a href= +"#f919"><sup>76</sup></a><br> + As the Scotch fiddle, with its touching tune,<br> +Or the sad influence of the angry Moon,<br> +<a name="fr920">All</a> men avoid bad writers' ready tongues,<br> +<a name="fr921">As</a> yawning waiters fly<a href= +"#f920"><sup>77</sup></a> Fitzscribble's lungs;<a href= +"#f921"><sup>HH</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr922">Yet</a> on he mouths--ten minutes--tedious each<a +href="#f922"><sup>78</sup></a> <a href= +"#f923"><sup>JJ</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr923">As</a> Prelate's homily, or placeman's +speech;<br> +Long as the last years of a lingering lease,<br> +When Riot pauses until Rents increase.<br> +While such a minstrel, muttering fustian, strays<br> +O'er hedge and ditch, through unfrequented ways,<br> +If by some chance he walks into a well,<br> +And shouts for succour with stentorian yell,<br> +"A rope! help, Christians, as ye hope for grace!"<br> +Nor woman, man, nor child will stir a pace;<br> +For there his carcass he might freely fling,<a href= +"#f924"><sup>KK</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr924">From</a> frenzy, or the humour of the thing.<br> +Though this has happened to more Bards than one;<br> +I'll tell you Budgell's story,--and have done.<br> +Budgell, a rogue and rhymester, for no good,<br> +(Unless his case be much misunderstood)<br> +When teased with creditors' continual claims,<br> +"To die like Cato,"<a href="#f925"><sup>79</sup></a> leapt into +the Thames!<br> +<a name="fr925">And</a> therefore be it lawful through the +town<br> +For any Bard to poison, hang, or drown.<br> +Who saves the intended Suicide receives<br> +Small thanks from him who loathes the life he leaves;<a href= +"#f926"><sup>MM</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr926">And</a>, sooth to say, mad poets must not +lose<br> +The Glory of that death they freely choose.<br> +Nor is it certain that some sorts of verse<a href= +"#f927"><sup>NN</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr927">Prick</a> not the Poet's conscience as a +curse;<br> +Dosed<a href="#f928"><sup>80</sup></a> with vile drams on Sunday +he was found,<br> +<a name="fr928">Or</a> got a child on consecrated ground!<br> +And hence is haunted with a rhyming rage--<br> +Feared like a bear just bursting from his cage.<br> +If free, all fly his versifying fit,<br> +Fatal at once to Simpleton or Wit:<br> +But <i>him</i>, unhappy! whom he seizes,--<i>him</i><br> +He flays with Recitation limb by limb;<br> +Probes to the quick where'er he makes his breach,<br> +And gorges like a Lawyer--or a Leech.</td> +<td><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +100<br> 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href="#f660">c8</a> Ý<a href="#f661">c9</a> <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +740<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +750<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +760<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +770<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +780<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +790<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +800<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#f488">c12</a> <br> +<br> +810<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +820<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +830<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +840<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +The last page of <i>MS. M.</i> is dated-- + +<blockquote><b>Byron</b>,<br> +<br> + Capuchin Convent,<br> +<br> + Athens. <i>March 14th, 1811</i>.</blockquote> + +The following memorandum, in Byron's handwriting, is also +inscribed on the last page: + +<blockquote>"722 lines, and 4 inserted after and now counted, in +all 726.--B.<br> +Since this several lines are added.--B. June 14th, 1811.<br> +<br> +Copied fair at Malta, May 3rd, 1811.--B."<br> +<br> +<br> +<b>Byron</b><br> +<br> +<i>March 11th and 12th</i>,<br> +Athens. 1811.,</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (a)</i>.] + +<blockquote><b>Byron</b>,<br> +<i>March 14th, 1811.</i><br> +Athens, Capuchin Convent.</blockquote> + +.[<i>MS. L. (b)</i>.]<br> +<br> +<table summary="Hints from Horace footnotes" border="1" +cellspacing="5" cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f745"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span></a> Ý Sir Thomas Lawrence +(1769-1830) succeeded West as P.R.A. in 1820. Benjamin West +(1738-1820) had been elected P.R.A. in 1792, on the death of Sir +Joshua Reynolds.<br> +<a href="#fr745">return to footnote mark</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f744"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><b>Athens</b>, <i>March 2nd, 1811</i>.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i> (a).] + +<blockquote><b>Athens</b>, <i>March 12th, 1811</i>.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (i), MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr744">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f748"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span></a> Ý In an English +newspaper, which finds its way abroad wherever there are +Englishmen, I read an account of this dirty dauber's caricature +of Mr. H--- as a "beast," and the consequent action, etc. The +circumstance is, probably, too well known to require further +comment.<br> +[Thomas Hope (1770-1831) was celebrated for his collections of +pictures, sculpture, and <i>bric-à-brac</i>. He was the +author of <i>Anastasius, or Memoirs of a Greek, etc</i>., which +was attributed to Byron, and, according to Lady Blessington, +excited his envy. "Low Dubost" was a French painter, who, in +revenge for some fancied injustice, caricatured Hope and his wife +as Beauty and the Beast. An exhibition of the sketch is said to +have brought in from twenty to thirty pounds a week. A brother of +Mrs. Hope (Louisa Beresford, daughter of Lord Decies, Archbishop +of Tuam) mutilated the picture, and, an action having been +brought, was ordered to pay a nominal sum of five pounds. +Dubost's academy portrait of Mrs. Hope did not please Peter +Pindar. + +<blockquote>"In Mistress Hope, Monsieur Dubost! Thy Genius +yieldeth up the Ghost."</blockquote> + +<i>Works</i> (1812), v. 372.]<br> +<a href="#fr748">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f746"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>If<a href="#f929"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> <a name= +"fr929">West</a> or Lawrence, (take whichever you will)<br> + Sons of the Brush, supreme in graphic skill,<br> + Should clap a human head-piece on a mare,<br> + How would our Exhibition's loungers stare!<br> + Or should some dashing limner set to sale<br> + My Lady's likeness with a Mermaid's tail.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i> (a).] + +<blockquote>The features finished, should superbly deck<br> + My Lady's likeness with a Filly's neck;<br> + Or should some limner mad or maudlin group<br> + A Mermaid's tail and Maid of Honour's Hoop.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i>(b).]<br> +<br> +<br> + <a name="f734"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> I have been obliged to dive into the "Bathos" +for the simile, as I could not find a description of these +Painters' merits above ground. + +<blockquote>"Si liceat parvis<br> + Componere magna"--<br> +<br> + "Like London's column pointing to the skies<br> + Like a <i>tall Bully</i>, lifts its head and lies"</blockquote> + +I was in hopes might bear me out, if the monument be like a +Bully. West's glory may be reduced by the scale of comparison. If +not, let me have recourse to <i>Tom Thumb the Great</i> +[Fielding's farce, first played 1730] to keep my simile in +countenance.--[<i>MS. L. (b) erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr929"><span style="color: #663300;">return to main +footnote</span></a><br> +<a href="#fr746">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f754"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"While pure Description held the place of +Sense."</blockquote> + +Pope, <i>Prol. to the Sat.</i>, L. 148. + +<blockquote>"While Mr. Sol decked out all so glorious<br> + Shines like a Beau in his Birthday Embroidery."</blockquote> + +[Fielding, <i>Tom Thumb</i>, act i. sc. I.] [<i>MS. M.</i>] +"<i>Fas est et ab Hoste doceri.</i>" In the 7th Art. of the 31st +No. of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> (vol. xvi. Ap. 1810) the +"Observations" of an Oxford Tutor are compared to "Children's +Cradles" (page 181), then to a "Barndoor fowl flying" (page 182), +then the man himself to "a Coach-horse on the Trottoir" (page +185) etc., etc., with a variety of other conundrums all tending +to prove that the ingenuity of comparison increases in proportion +to the dissimilarity between the things compared.--[<i>MS. L. (b) +erased.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr754">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f747"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span></a> Ý After line 6, the +following lines (erased) were inserted:-- + +<blockquote>Or patch a Mammoth up with wings and limbs,<br> + And fins of aught that flies or walks or swims.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<br> +Another variant ran-- + +<blockquote>Or paint (astray from Truth and Nature led)<br> + A Judge with wings, a Statesman with a Head!</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr747">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f760"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span></a> Ý Mere common mortals +were commonly content with one Taylor and with one bill, but the +more particular gentlemen found it impossible to confide their +lower garments to the makers of their body clothes. I speak of +the beginning of 1809: what reform may have since taken place I +neither know, nor desire to know.--[<i>MSS. L. (b), M</i>.]]<br> +<a href="#fr760">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f749"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Believe me, Hobhouse...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr749">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f763"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span></a> Ý Mr. Pitt was liberal +in his additions to our Parliamentary tongue; as may be seen in +many publications, particularly the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>.<br> +[The reference may be to financial terms, such as sinking fund (a +phrase not introduced by Pitt), the English equivalent of +<i>caisse d'amortissement</i>, or income tax (<i>impôt sur +le revenu</i>), or to actual French words such as <i>chouannerie, +projet</i>, etc. But Pitt's "additions" are unnoticed by Frere +and other reporters and critics of his speeches. For a satirical +description of Pitt's words, "which are finer and longer than can +be conceived," see <i>Rolliad</i>, 1799; <i>Political +Miscellanies</i>, p. 421; and <i>Political Eclogues</i>, p. 195. + +<blockquote>"And Billy best of all things loves--a +trope."</blockquote> + +Compare, too, Peter Pindar, "To Sylvanus Urban," <i>Works</i> +(1812), ii. 259. + +<blockquote>"Lycurgus Pitt whose penetrating eyes<br> + Behold the fount of Freedom in excise,<br> + Whose <i>patriot</i> logic possibly maintains<br> + The <i>identity</i> of <i>liberty</i> and +<i>chains</i>."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr763">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f750"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>as we scribblers...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MSS. L. (a and b), MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr750">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f768"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span></a> Ý Old ballads, old +plays, and old women's stories, are at present in as much request +as old wine or new speeches. In fact, this is the millennium of +black letter: thanks to our Hebers, Webers, and Scotts!<br> +[Richard Heber (1773-1833), book-collector and man of letters, +was half-brother of the Bishop of Calcutta. He edited, <i>inter +alia, Specimens of the Early English Poets</i>, by George Ellis, +3 vols., London: 1811.<br> +<br> +W. H. Weber (1783-1818), a German by birth, was employed by Sir +Walter Scott as an amanuensis and "searcher." He edited, in 1810, +<i>Metrical Romances of the 13th, 14th, and 15th Centuries</i>, a +work described by Southey (<i>Letters</i>, ii. 308) as "admirably +edited, exceedingly curious, and after my own heart." He also +published editions of Ford, and Beaumont and Fletcher, which were +adversely criticized by Gifford. For an account of his relations +to Scott and of his melancholy end, see Lockhart's <i>Life of +Scott</i> (1871), p. 251.]<br> +<a href="#fr768">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f751"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i><a name="fr930">Like</a> Wardle's<a href= +"#f930"><span style="color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> +speeches</i>.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (a)</i>.] <a name="f930"><span style= +"color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote A:</span> nbsp;</a> Gwyllim Lloyd +Wardle (1762-1834), who served in Ireland in 1798, as Colonel of +the Welsh Fusiliers, known as "Wynne's lambs," was M.P. for +Okehampton 1807-12. In January, 1809, he brought forward a motion +for a parliamentary investigation into the exercise of military +patronage by the Duke of York, and the supposed influence of the +Duke's mistress, Mary Anne Clarke.<br> +<a href="#fr930"><span style="color: #663300;">return main +footnote</span></a><br> +<a href="#fr7">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f773"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span></a> Ý <i>Mac Flecknoe</i>, +the <i>Dunciad</i>, and all Swift's lampooning ballads. Whatever +their other works may be, these originated in personal feelings, +and angry retort on unworthy rivals; and though the ability of +these satires elevates the poetical, their poignancy detracts +from the personal character of the writers.<br> +<a href="#fr773">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f752"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>As pertness lurks beneath a legal gown.<br> + And nonsense in a lofty note goes down.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (a)</i>.]<br> +<br> +or, + +<blockquote>Which covers all things like a Prelate's +gown.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (a).</i>]]<br> +<br> + or, + +<blockquote>Which wraps presumption.</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M. erased</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr752">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f774"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span></a> Ý<i>Almanzor: or the +Conquest of Granada by the Spaniards</i>, a Tragedy by John +Dryden. The bombastic character of the hero was severely +criticized in Dryden's own time, and was defended by him thus: + +<blockquote>"'Tis said that Almanzor is no perfect pattern of +heroic virtue, that he is a contemner of kings, and that he is +made to perform impossibilities. I must therefore avow, in the +first place, from whence I took the character. The first image I +had of him was from the Achilles of Homer: the next from Tasso's +Rinaldo, and the third from the Artaban of Mons. +Calprenède.... He talks extravagantly in his passion, but +if I would take the trouble to quote from Ben Jonson's Cethegus, +I could easily show you that the rhodomontades of Almanzor are +neither so irrational as his nor so impossible to be put in +execution."</blockquote> + +<i>An Essay on Heroic Plays. Works of John Dryden</i> (1821), iv. +23-25.<br> +<a href="#fr774">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f753"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>As when the poet to description yields<br> + Of waters gliding through the goodly fields;<br> + The Groves of Granta and her Gothic Halls,<br> + Oxford and Christchurch, London and St. Pauls,<br> + Or with a ruder flight he feebly aims<br> + To paint a rainbow or the River Thames.<br> + Perhaps you draw a fir tree or a beech,<br> + But then a landscape is beyond your reach;<br> + Or, if that allegory please you not,<br> + Take this--you'ld form a vase, but make a +pot...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr753">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f774"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 9:</span></a> Ý With all the vulgar +applause and critical abhorrence of puns, they have Aristotle on +their side; who permits them to orators, and gives them +consequence by a grave disquisition.<br> +<blockquote>["Cicero also," says Addison, "has sprinkled several +of his works with them; and in his book on Oratory, quotes +abundance of sayings as pieces of wit, which, upon examination, +prove arrant puns."</blockquote> + +<i>Essay on Wit, Works</i> (1888), ii. 354.]]<br> +<a href="#fr774">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f755"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Although you sketch a tree which Taste +endures,<br> + Your ill-daubed Shipwreck shocks the +Connoisseurs....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr755">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f777"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span></a> Ý In Vanbrugh and +Gibber's comedy of <i>The Provoked Husband</i>, first played at +Drury Lane, January 10, 1728.<br> +<a href="#fr777">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f756"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The greater portion of the men of rhyme<br> + Parents and children or their Sires sublime...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr756">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f779"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 11:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"And in his ear I'll holla--Mortimer!"</blockquote> + +[<i>I Henry IV</i>., act i. sc. 3.]<br> +<a href="#fr779">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f757"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But change the malady they strive to +cure...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr757">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f783"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 12:</span></a> ÝGarrick's <i>Lying +Valet</i> was played for the first time at Goodman's Fields, +November 30, 1741.<br> +<br> +["Peregrine" is a character in George Colman's <i>John Bull,</i> +or <i>An Englishman's Fire-Side</i>, Covent Garden. March 5, +1803.]<br> +<a href="#fr783">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f758"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Fish in the woods and wild-boars in the +waves...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr758">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f784"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 13:</span></a> Ý I have Johnson's +authority for making Lear a monosyllable-- + +<blockquote>"Perhaps where Lear rav'd or Hamlet died<br> + On flying cars new sorcerers may ride."<br> +<br> + ["Perhaps where Lear has rav'd, and Hamlet dy'd."</blockquote> + +Prologue to <i>Irene. Johnson's Works</i> (1806), i. 168.] and +(if it need be mentioned) the <i>authority</i> of the epigram on +Barry and Garrick. [Note <i>erased, Proof b, British +Museum</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr784">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f759"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>For Coat and waistcoat Slowshears is your man,<br> + But Breeches claim another Artisan;<br> + Now this to me I own seems much the same<br> + As one leg perfect and the other lame</i>.</blockquote> + +[<i>MSS. M., L. (a).</i>] + +<blockquote><i>Sweitzer is your man</i>.</blockquote> + +[MS. M. <i>erased</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr759">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f786"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 14:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"<i>Johnson</i>: Pray, Mr. Bayes, who is that +Drawcansir?<br> +<br> + <i>Bayes</i>. Why, Sir, a great [fierce] hero, that frights his +mistress, snubs up kings, baffles armies, and does what he will, +without regard to numbers, good sense, or justice [good manners, +justice, or numbers]."</blockquote> + +<i>The Rehearsal,</i> act iv. sc. I.<br> +<br> +<i>The Rehearsal</i>, by George Villiers, second Duke of +Buckingham (1627-1688), appeared in 1671. Sprat and others are +said to have shared the authorship. So popular was the play that +"Drawcansir" passed into a synonime for a braggadocio. It is +believed that "Bayes" (that is, of course, "laureate") was meant +for a caricature of Dryden: "he himself complains bitterly that +it was so." (See <i>Lives of the Poets</i> (1890), i. 386; and +Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i> (1876), p. 235, and +<i>note</i>.)<br> +<a href="#fr786">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f761"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Him who hath sense to make a skilful choice<br> +Nor lucid Order, nor the Siren Voice<br> +Of Eloquence shall shun, and Wit and Grace<br> +(Or I'm deceived) shall aid him in the Race:<br> +These too will teach him to defer or join<br> +To future parts the now omitted line:<br> +This shall the Author like or that reject,<br> +Sparing in words and cautious to select:<br> +Nor slight applause will candid pens afford<br> +To him who well compounds a wanting word,<br> +And if, by chance, 'tis needful to produce<br> +Some term long laid and obsolete in use...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MSS. M., L. (a and b). The last line partly erased.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr761">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f787"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 15:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Difficile est proprie communia dicere; tuque<br> + Rectius Iliacum carmen deducis in actus,<br> + Quam si proferres ignota indictaque primus."</blockquote> + +<b>Hor</b>: <i>De Arte Poet</i>: 128-130.<br> +<br> +Mons. Dacier, Mons. de Sévigné, Boileau, and +others, have left their dispute on the meaning of this sentence +in a tract considerably longer than the poem of Horace. It is +printed at the close of the eleventh volume of Madame de +Sévigné's Letters, edited by Grouvelle, Paris, +1806. Presuming that all who can construe may venture an opinion +on such subjects, particularly as so many who <i>can't</i> have +taken the same liberty, I should have held "my farthing candle" +as awkwardly as another, had not my respect for the wits of Louis +14th's Augustan "Siècle" induced me to subjoin these +illustrious authorities. I therefore offer + +<ol type="1"> +<li>Boileau: "Il est difficile de trailer des sujets qui sont +à la portée de tout le monde d'une maniere qui vous +les rende propres, ce qui s'appelle s'approprier un sujet par le +tour qu'on y donne."</li> + +<li>Batteux: "Mais il est bien difficile de donner des traits +propres et individuels aux etres purement possibles."</li> + +<li>Dacier: "Il est difficile de traiter convenablement ces +caractères que tout le monde peut inventer."</li> +</ol> + +Mr. Sévigné's opinion and translation, consisting +of some thirty pages, I omit, particularly as Mr. Grouvelle +observes, + +<blockquote>"La chose est bien remarquable, aucune de ces +diverses interpretations ne parait être la +veritable."</blockquote> + +But, by way of comfort, it seems, fifty years afterwards, "Le +lumineux Dumarsais" made his appearance, to set Horace on his +legs again, "dissiper tous les nuages, et concilier tous les +dissentiments;" and I suppose some fifty years hence, somebody, +still more luminous, will doubtless start up and demolish +Dumarsais and his system on this weighty affair, as if he were no +better than Ptolemy or Copernicus and comments of no more +consequence than astronomical calculations. I am happy to say, +"la longueur de la dissertation" of Mr. D. prevents Mr. G. from +saying any more on the matter. A better poet than Boileau, and at +least as good a scholar as Mr. de Sévigné, has +said, + +<blockquote>"A little learning is a dangerous +thing."</blockquote> + +And by the above extract, it appears that a good deal may be +rendered as useless to the Proprietors.<br> +[Byron chose the words in question, <i>Difficile,</i> etc., as a +motto for the first five cantos of <i>Don Juan</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr787">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f762"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote q:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The dextrous Coiner of a</i> wanting +<i>word</i>...</blockquote> + +[<i>Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr762">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f788"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 16:</span></a> Ý About two years ago a +young man named Townsend was announced by Mr. Cumberland, in a +review (since deceased) [the <i>London Review</i>], as being +engaged in an epic poem to be entitled "Armageddon." The plan and +specimen promise much; but I hope neither to offend Mr. Townsend, +nor his friends, by recommending to his attention the lines of +Horace to which these rhymes allude. If Mr. Townsend succeeds in +his undertaking, as there is reason to hope, how much will the +world be indebted to Mr. Cumberland for bringing him before the +public! But, till that eventful day arrives, it may be doubted +whether the premature display of his plan (sublime as the ideas +confessedly are) has not,--by raising expectation too high, or +diminishing curiosity, by developing his argument,--rather +incurred the hazard of injuring Mr. Townsend's future prospects. +Mr. Cumberland (whose talents I shall not depreciate by the +humble tribute of my praise) and Mr. Townsend must not suppose me +actuated by unworthy motives in this suggestion. I wish the +author all the success he can wish himself, and shall be truly +happy to see epic poetry weighed up from the bathos where it lies +sunken with Southey, Cottle, Cowley (Mrs. or Abraham), Ogilvy, +Wilkie, Pye, and all the "dull of past and present days." Even if +he is not a <i>Milton</i>, he may be better than +<i>Blackmore</i>; if not a <i>Homer</i>, an <i>Antimachus</i>. I +should deem myself presumptuous, as a young man, in offering +advice, were it not addressed to one still younger. Mr. Townsend +has the greatest difficulties to encounter; but in conquering +them he will find employment; in having conquered them, his +reward. I know too well "the scribbler's scoff, the critic's +contumely;" and I am afraid time will teach Mr. Townsend to know +them better. Those who succeed, and those who do not, must bear +this alike, and it is hard to say which have most of it. I trust +that Mr. Townsend's share will be from <i>envy</i>; he will soon +know mankind well enough not to attribute this expression to +malice.<br> +[This note was written [at Athens] before the author was apprised +of Mr. Cumberland's death [in May, 1811].--<i>MS</i>. (See +Byron's letter to Dallas, August 27, 1811.) The Rev. George +Townsend (1788-1857) published <i>Poems</i> in 1810, and eight +books of his <i>Armageddon</i> in 1815. They met with the fate +which Byron had predicted. In later life he compiled numerous +works of scriptural exegesis. He was a Canon of Durham from 1825 +till his death.]<br> +<a href="#fr788">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f764"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote r:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Adroitly grafted...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr764">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f790"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 17:</span></a> ÝThe first line of <i>A +Spirit of Discovery by Sea</i>, by the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles, +first published in 1805.<br> +<a href="#fr790">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f765"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote s:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Since they enriched our language in their time<br> + In modern speeches or Black letter rhyme....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr765">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f796"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 18:</span></a> ÝHarvey, the +<i>circulator</i> of the <i>circulation</i> of the blood, used to +fling away Virgil in his ecstasy of admiration and say, "the book +had a devil." Now such a character as I am copying would probably +fling it away also, but rather wish that "the devil had the +book;" not from dislike to the poet, but a well-founded horror of +hexameters. Indeed, the public school penance of "Long and Short" +is enough to beget an antipathy to poetry for the residue of a +man's life, and, perhaps, so far may be an advantage.<br> +<a href="#fr796">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f766"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote t:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Though at a Monarch's nod, and Traffic's call<br> + Reluctant rivers deviate to Canal...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MSS M., L. (a and b).</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr766">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f797"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 19:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"<i>Infandum, regina, jubes renovare +dolorem</i>."</blockquote> + +I dare say Mr. Tavell (to whom I mean no affront) will understand +me; and it is no matter whether any one else does or no.--To the +above events, "<i>quæque ipse miserrima vidi, et quorum +pars magna fui</i>," all <i>times</i> and <i>terms</i> bear +testimony.<br> +<br> +[The Rev. G.F. Tavell was a fellow and tutor of Trinity College, +Cambridge, during Byron's residence, and owed this notice to the +"zeal with which he protested against his juvenile vagaries." +During a part of his residence at Trinity, Byron kept a tame bear +in his rooms in Neville's Court. (See <i>English Bards</i>, l. +973, <a href="#f705"><i>note</i></a>, and <a href= +"#section114d">postscript to the Second Edition</a>, <i>ante</i>, +p. 383. See also letter to Miss Pigot, October 26, 1807.)<br> +<br> +The following copy of a bill (no date) tells its own story:-- + +<blockquote>The Honble. Lord Byron.<br> +<br> + To John Clarke.<br> +<br> + To Bread & Milk for the Bear deliv'd. to Haladay ... ... ... +£ 1 9 7<br> +<br> + Cambridge Reve. A Clarke.]<br> +<a href="#fr797">return</a></blockquote> +</td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f767"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote u:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>marshes dried, sustain...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr767">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f801"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 20:</span></a> Ý + +<ul> +<li>"Hell," a gaming-house so called, where you risk little, and +are cheated a good deal.</li> + +<li>"Club," a pleasant purgatory, where you lose more, and are +not supposed to be cheated at all.</li> +</ul> + +<a href="#fr801">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f769"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote v:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Thus--future years dead volumes shall +revive...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr769">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f807"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 21:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Irene had to speak two lines with the bowstring +round her neck; but the audience cried out ['Murder!'] 'Murder!' +and she was obliged to go off the stage alive."</blockquote> + +<i>Boswell's Johnson</i> [1876, p. 60].<br> +<br> +[Irene (first played February 6, 1749) for the future was put to +death behind the scenes. The strangling her, contrary to Horace's +rule, <i>coram populo</i>, was suggested by Garrick. (See Davies' +<i>Life of Garrick</i> (1808), i. 157.)]<br> +<a href="#fr807">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f770"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote w:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>As Custom fluctuates whose Iron Sway<br> + Though ever changing Mortals must obey...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr770">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f808"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 22:</span></a> Ý Matthew Gregory Lewis +(1775-1818). (<i>Vide English Bards, etc</i>., l. 265, <a href= +"#f542">n. 8.</a>) The character of Hassan, "my misanthropic +negro," as Lewis called him, was said by the critics of the day +to have been borrowed from Zanga in Young's <i>Revenge</i>. +Lewis, in his "Address to the Reader," quoted by Byron (in <a +href="#f809">note 3</a>), defends the originality of the +conception.<br> +<a href="#fr808">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f771"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote x:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To mark the Majesty of Epic +song...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr771">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f809"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 23:</span></a> Ý In the postscript to +<i>The Castle Spectre</i>, Mr. Lewis tells us, that though blacks +were unknown in England at the period of his action, yet he has +made the anachronism to set off the scene: and if he could have +produced the effect "by making his heroine blue,"--I quote +him--"blue he would have made her!" [<i>The Castle Spectre</i>, +by M.G. Lewis, Esq., M.P., London, 1798, page 102.]<br> +<a href="#fr809">return</a><br> +<a href="#f808">cross-reference: return to Footnote 22 of this +poem</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f772"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote y:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But which is preferable rhyme or blank<br> + Which holds in poesy...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr772">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f811"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 24:</span></a> Ý In 1706 John Dennis, +the critic (1657-1734), wrote an <i>Essay on the Operas after the +Italian manner, which are about to be established on the English +Stage</i>; to show that they were more immoral than the most +licentious play.<br> +<a href="#fr811">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f776"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote z:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>ventures to appear...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Corr. in Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr776">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f816"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 25:</span></a> Ý One of the gangways +in the Opera House, where the young men of fashion used to +assemble. (See letter to Murray, Nov. 9, 1820; <i>Life</i>, p. +62.)<br> +<a href="#fr816">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f778"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote A:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And Harry Monmouth, till the scenes require,<br> + Resigns heroics to his sceptred Sire....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr778">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f817"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 26:</span></a> Ý In the year 1808, +happening at the opera to tread on the toes of a very +well-dressed man, I turned round to apologize, when, to my utter +astonishment, I recognized the face of the porter of the very +hotel where I then lodged in Albemarle Street. So here was a +gentleman who ran every morning forty errands for half a crown, +throwing away half a guinea at night, besides the expense of his +habiliments, and the hire of his "Chapeau de Bras."--[<i>MS. L. +(a).</i>]]<br> +<a href="#fr817">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f780"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote B:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To "hollaing Hotspur" and the sceptred +sire...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Corr. in Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr780">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f818"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 27:</span></a> Ý The first theatrical +representations, entitled "Mysteries and Moralities," were +generally enacted at Christmas, by monks (as the only persons who +could read), and latterly by the clergy and students of the +universities. The dramatis personae were usually Adam, Pater +Coelestis, Faith, Vice, and sometimes an angel or two; but these +were eventually superseded by <i>Gammer Gurton's +Needle</i>.--<i>Vide</i> Warton's <i>History of English Poetry +[passim]</i>.--[<i>MSS. M., L. (b)</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr818">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f781"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote C:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Dull as an Opera, I should sleep or +sneer...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr781">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f822"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 28:</span></a> Ý <i>Benvolio</i> [Lord +Grosvenor, <i>MS. L. (b)</i>] does not bet; but every man who +maintains racehorses is a promoter of all the concomitant evils +of the turf. Avoiding to bet is a little pharisaical. Is it an +exculpation? I think not. I never yet heard a bawd praised for +chastity, because <i>she herself</i> did not commit +fornication.<br> +<br> +[Robert, second Earl Grosvenor (1767-1845), was created Marquis +of Westminster in 1831. Like his father, Gifford's patron, the +first Earl Grosvenor, he was a breeder of racehorses, and a +patron of the turf. As Lord Belgrave, he brought forward a motion +for the suppression of Sunday newspapers, June 11, 1799, +denouncing them in a violent speech. The motion was lost; but +many years after, in a speech delivered in the House of Lords, +January 2, 1807, he returned to the charge. (See <i>Parl. +Hist</i>., 34. 1006, 1010; and <i>Parl. Deb</i>., 8. 286.) (For a +skit on Lord Belgrave's sabbatarian views, see Peter Pindar, +<i>Works</i> (1812), iv. 519.)]<br> +<a href="#fr822">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f782"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote D:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And for Emotion's aid 'tis said and +sung...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr782">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f824"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 29:</span></a> Ý Samuel Foote +(1720-1777), actor and playwright. His solo entertainments, in +<i>The Dish of Tea, An Auction of Pictures</i>, 1747-8 (see his +comedy <i>Taste</i>), were the precursors of <i>Mathews at +Home</i>, and a long line of successors. His farces and +curtain-pieces were often "spiced-up" with more or less malicious +character-sketches of living persons. Among his better known +pieces are <i>The Minor</i> (1760), ridiculing Whitefield and the +Methodists, and <i>The Mayor of Garratt</i> (1763), in which he +played the part of Sturgeon (Byron used this piece, for an +illustration in his speech on the Frame-workers Bill, February +27, 1812). <i>The Lyar</i>, first played at Covent Garden, +January 12, 1762, was the latest to hold the stage. It was +reproduced at the Opera Comique in 1877.<br> +<a href="#fr824">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f785"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote E:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>or form a plot...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Proof b, British Museum</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr785">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f825"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 30:</span></a> ÝHenry Carey, poet and +musician (d. 1743), a natural son of George Savile, Marquis of +Halifax, was the author of <i>Chrononhotonthologos</i>, "the most +tragical tragedy ever yet tragedised by any company of +tragedians," which was first played at the Haymarket, February +22, 1734. The well-known lines, "Go, call a coach, and let a +coach be called," etc., which Scott prefixed to the first chapter +of <i>The Antiquary</i>, are from the last scene, in which +Bombardinion fights with and kills the King Chrononhotonthologos. +But his one achievement was <i>Sally in our Alley</i>, of which +he wrote both the words and the music. The authorship of "God +Save the King" has been attributed to him, probably under a +misapprehension.<br> +<a href="#fr825">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f789"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote F:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>What'eer the critic says or poet sings<br> + 'Tis no slight task to write on common +things...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr789">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f827"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 31:</span></a> ;nbsp Under Plato's +pillow a volume of the <i>Mimes</i> of Sophron was found the day +he died.--<i>Vide</i> Barthélémi, De Pauw, or +Diogenes Laërtius, [Lib. iii. p. 168--Chouet 1595] if +agreeable. De Pauw calls it a jest-book. Cumberland, in his +<i>Observer</i>, terms it moral, like the sayings of Publius +Syrus.<br> +<a href="#fr827">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f791"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote G:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Ere o'er our heads your Muse's Thunder +rolls....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr791">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f829"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 32:</span></a> Ý In 1737 the manager +of Goodman's Fields Theatre having brought Sir Robert Walpole a +farce called <i>The Golden Rump</i>, the minister detained the +copy. He then made extracts of the most offensive passages, read +them to the house, and brought in a bill to limit the number of +playhouses and to subject all dramatic writings to the inspection +of the Lord Chamberlain. Horace Walpole ascribed <i>The Golden +Rump</i> to Fielding, and said that he had found an imperfect +copy of the play among his father's papers. But this has been +questioned. (See <i>A Book of the Play</i>, by Dutton Cook +(1881), p. 27.)<br> +<a href="#fr829">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f792"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote H:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Earth, Heaven and Hell, are shaken with the +Song....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr792">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f830"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 33:</span></a> Ý His speech on the +Licensing Act [in which he opposed the Bill], is reckoned one of +his most eloquent efforts.<br> +<br> +[The following sentences have been extracted from the speech +which was delivered:-- + +<blockquote>"The bill is not only an encroachment upon liberty, +it is likewise an encroachment on property. Wit, my lords, is a +sort of property; it is the property of those who have it, and +too often the only property they have to depend on...<br> +<br> +"Those gentlemen who have any such property are all, I hope, our +friends; do not let us subject them to any unnecessary or +arbitrary restraint...<br> +<br> +"The stage and the press, my lord, are two of our out-sentries; +if we remove them, if we hoodwink them, if we throw them into +fetters, the enemy may surprise us. Therefore I must now look +upon the bill before us as a step for introducing arbitrary power +into this kingdom."</blockquote> + +Lord Chesterfield's sentiments with regard to laughter are +contained in an apophthegm, repeated more than once in his +correspondence: + +<blockquote>"The vulgar laugh aloud, but never smile; on the +contrary, people of fashion often smile, but seldom or never +laugh aloud."</blockquote> + +<i>Chesterfield's Letters to his Godson</i>, Oxford, 1890, p. +27.]<br> +<a href="#fr830">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f793"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote J:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Through deeds we know not, though already +done,...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr793">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f831"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 34:</span></a> Ý Archer and Squire +Sullen are characters in Farquhar's play (1678-1707), <i>The +Beaux' Stratagem</i>, March 8, 1707.<br> +<a href="#fr831">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f794"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote K:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>What soothes the people's, Peer's, and Critic's +ear....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr794">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f832"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 35:</span></a> Ý Michael Perez, the +"Copper Captain," in [Fletcher's] <i>Rule a Wife and Have a +Wife</i> [licensed October 19, 1624].<br> +<a href="#fr832">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f795"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote M:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And Vice buds forth developed with his +Teens....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr795">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f833"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 36:</span></a> Ý The Rev. Dr. Francis +Willis died in 1807, in the 90th year of his age. He attended +George III. in his first attack of madness in 1788. The power of +his eye on other persons is illustrated by a story related by +Frederick Reynolds (<i>Life and Times</i>, ii. 23), who describes +how Edmund Burke quailed under his look. His son, John Willis, +was entrusted with the entire charge of the king in 1811. Compare +Shelley's <i>Peter Bell the Third</i>, part vi.-- + +<blockquote>"Let him shave his head:<br> + Where's Dr. Willis?"</blockquote> + +(See, too, <i>Bland-Burges Papers</i> (1885), pp. 113-115, and +<i>Life of George IV</i>., by Percy Fitzgerald (1881), ii. +18.)<br> +<a href="#fr833">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f798"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote N:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The beardless Tyro freed at length from +school.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MSS. L. (b), M. erased</i>.] + +<blockquote><i>And blushing Birch disdains all College +rule.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M. erased</i>.] + +<blockquote><i>And dreaded Birch.</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L.</i> (<i>a</i> and <i>b</i>).]<br> +<a href="#fr798">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f834"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 37:</span></a> Ý Dr. Johnson was of +the like opinion. + +<blockquote>"Highwaymen and housebreakers," he says, in his Life +of Gay, "seldom frequent the playhouse, or mingle in any elegant +diversion; nor is it possible for any one to imagine that he may +rob with safety, because he sees Macheath reprieved upon the +stage."</blockquote> + +<i>Lives of the Poets</i>, by Samuel Johnson (1890), ii. 266. It +was asserted, on the other hand, by Sir John Fielding, the +Bow-street magistrate, that on every run of the piece, <i>The +Beggar's Opera</i>, an increased number of highwaymen were +brought to his office; and so strong was his conviction, that in +1772 he remonstrated against the performance with the managers of +both the houses.<br> +<a href="#fr834">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f799"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote P:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Unlucky Tavell! damned to daily cares<br> + By pugilistic Freshmen, and by Bears....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr799">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f836"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 38:</span></a> Ý Jerry Collier's +controversy with Congreve, etc., on the subject of the drama, is +too well known to require further comment.<br> +<br> +[Jeremy Collier (1650-1756), non-juring bishop and divine. The +occasion of his controversy with Congreve was the publication of +his <i>Short View of the Immorality and Profaneness of the +English Stage</i> (1697-8). Congreve, who had been attacked by +name, replied in a tract entitled <i>Amendments upon Mr. +Collier's false and imperfect citations from the</i> <b>Old +Batcheleur</b>, etc.]<br> +<a href="#fr836">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f800"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Q:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Ready to quit whatever he loved before,<br> + Constant to nought, save hazard and a whore....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr800">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f837"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 39:</span></a> ÝA few months after +lines 370-381 were added to <i>The Hints</i>, in September, 1812, +Byron, at the request of Lord Holland, wrote the address +delivered on the opening of the theatre, which had been rebuilt +after the fire of February 24, 1809. He subsequently joined the +Committee of Management<br> +<a href="#fr837">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f802"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote R:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The better years of youth he wastes +away....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr802">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f838"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 40:</span></a> Ý Mr. Simeon is the +very bully of beliefs, and castigator of "good works." He is ably +supported by John Stickles, a labourer in the same vineyard:--but +I say no more, for, according to Johnny in full +congregation,<i>"No hopes for them as laughs."</i><br> +<br> +[The Rev. Charles Simeon (1758-1836) was the leader of the +evangelical movement in Cambridge. The reference may be to the +rigour with which he repelled a charge brought against him by Dr. +Edwards, the Master of Sidney Sussex, that a sermon which he had +preached in November, 1809, savoured of antinomianism. It may be +noted that a friend (the Rev. W. Parish), to whom he submitted +the MS. of a rejoinder to Pearson's <i>Cautions, etc.</i>, +advised him to print it, "especially if you should rather keep +down a lash or two which might irritate." Simeon was naturally +irascible, and, in reply to a friend who had mildly reproved him +for some display of temper, signed himself, in humorous +penitence, "Charles proud and irritable." (See <i>Memoirs of the +Life of the Rev. Mr. Simeon</i>, by Rev. W. Carus (1847), pp. +195, 282, etc.)]<br> +<a href="#fr838">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f803"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote S:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Master of Arts, as all the Clubs +proclaim...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr803">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f839"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 41:</span></a> Ý<i>Baxter's Shove to +heavy-a--d Christians</i>, the veritable title of a book once in +good repute, and likely enough to be so again.<br> +<br> +["Baxter" is a slip of the pen. The tract or sermon, <i>An +Effectual Shove to the heavy-arse Christian</i>, was, according +to the title-page, written by William Bunyan, minister of the +gospel in South Wales, and "printed for the author" in London in +1768.]<br> +<a href="#fr839">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f804"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote T:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>Scrapes wealth, o'er Grandam's endless jointure +grieves...</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. erased.</i>] + +<blockquote>O'er Grandam's mortgage, or young hopeful's +debts...</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (a).</i>] + +<blockquote>O'er Uncle's mortgage...</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. L. (b).</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr804">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f842"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 42:</span></a> Ý Ambrose Philips +(1675?-1749) published his<i>Epistle to the Earl of Dorset</i> +and his <i>Pastorals</i> in 1709. It is said that Pope attacked +him in his satires in consequence of an article in the +<i>Guardian</i>, in which the <i>Pastorals</i> were unduly +extolled. His verses, addressed to the children of his patron, +Lord Carteret, were parodied by Henry Carey, in <i>Namby Pamby, +or a Panegyric on the New Versification</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr842">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f805"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote U:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Your plot is told or acted more or +less...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr805">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f850"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 43:</span></a> Ý See letters to +Murray, Sept. 15, 1817; Jan. 25, 1819; Mar. 29, 1820; Nov. 4, +1820; etc. See also the two <i>Letters</i> against Bowles, +written at Ravenna, Feb. 7 and Mar. 21, 1821, in which Byron's +enthusiastic reverence for Pope is the dominant note.<br> +<a href="#fr850">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f806"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote V:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To greater sympathy our feelings rise When what is +done is done before our eyes....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr806">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f853"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 44:</span></a> ÝAs famous a tonsor as +Licinus himself, and better paid [and may be like him a senator, +one day or other: no disparagement to the High Court of +Parliament.--<i>MS.L. (b)</i>], and may, like him, be one day a +senator, having a better qualification than one half of the heads +he crops, viz.-- Independence.<br> +<br> +[According to the Scholiast, Cassar made his barber Licinus a +senator, "quod odisset Pompeium." Blake (see Letter to Murray, +Nov. 9, 1820) was, presumably, Benjamin Blake, a perfumer, who +lived at 46, Park Street, Grosvenor Square.]<br> +<a href="#fr853">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f810"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote W:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Appalls an audience with the work of Death-- To +gaze when Hubert simply threats to sere....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr810">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f854"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 45:</span></a> Ý There was some +foundation for this. When Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy +called on Daniel Stuart, editor of the <i>Courier</i>, at his +fine new house in Harley Street, the butler would not admit them +further than the hall, and was not a little taken aback when he +witnessed the deference shown to these strangely-attired figures +by his master.-- Personal Reminiscence of the late Miss Stuart, +of 106, Harley Street.<br> +<a href="#fr854">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f812"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote X:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Nor call a Ghost, unless some cursed hitch<br> + Requires a trapdoor Goblin or a Witch....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr812">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f855"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 46:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"<i>Bayes</i>: If I am to write familiar things, as +sonnets to Armida, and the like, I make use of stewed prunes +only; but when I have a grand design in hand, I ever take physic +and let blood; for when you would have pure swiftness of thought, +and fiery flights of fancy, you must have a care of the pensive +part. In fine, you must purge."</blockquote> + +<i>Rehearsal</i>, act ii. sc. 1.<br> +<br> +This passage is instanced by Johnson as a proof that "Bayes" was +a caricature of Dryden. + +<blockquote>"Bayes, when he is to write, is blooded and purged; +this, as Lamotte relates, ... was the real practice of the +poet."</blockquote> + +<i>Lives of the Poets</i> 1890), i. 388.<br> +<a href="#fr855">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f813"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Y:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>This comes from Commerce with our foreign +friends<br> + These are the precious fruits Ausonia sends....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr813">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f861"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 47:</span></a> Ý Cant term for +£100,000.<br> + <a href="#fr861">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f814"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Z:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Our Giant Capital where streets still spread<br> + Where once our simpler sins were bred....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote><i>Our fields where once the rustic earned his +bread....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>] <a href="#fr814">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f862"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 48:</span></a> Ý I have not the +original by me, but the Italian translation runs as follows:-- + +<blockquote>"E una cosa a mio credere molto stravagante, che un +Padre desideri, o permetta, che suo figliuolo coltivi e +perfezioni questo talento."</blockquote> + +A little further on: " + +<blockquote>Si trovano di rado nel Parnaso le miniere d' oro e d' +argento,"</blockquote> + +<i>Educazione dei Fanciulli del Signer Locke</i> (Venice, 1782), +ii. 87. + +<blockquote>["If the child have a poetic vein, it is to me the +strangest thing in the world, that the father should desire or +suffer it to be cherished or improved."<br> +...<br> +"It is very seldom seen, that any one discovers mines of gold or +silver on Parnassus."</blockquote> + +<i>Some Thoughts concerning Education</i>, by John Locke (1880), +p. 152.]<br> +<a href="#fr862">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f815"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Aa:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Aches with the Orchestra he pays to +hear...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr815">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f864"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 49:</span></a> Ý "Iro pauperior:" a +proverb: this is the same beggar who boxed with Ulysses for a +pound of kid's fry, which he lost and half a dozen teeth besides. +(See <i>Odyssey</i>, xviii. 98.)<br> +<a href="#fr864">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f819"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Bb:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Scarce kept awake by roaring out +encore...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr819">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f865"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 50:</span></a> Ý The Irish gold mine +in Wicklow, which yields just ore enough to swear by, or gild a +bad guinea.<br> +<a href="#fr865">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f820"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Cc:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Ere theatres were built and reverend clerks<br> + Wrote plays as some old book remarks...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr820">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f869"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 51:</span></a> Ý As Mr. Pope took the +liberty of damning Homer, to whom he was under great +obligations--"<i>And Homer (damn him!) calls</i>"--it may be +presumed that anybody or anything may be damned in verse by +poetical licence [I shall suppose one may damn anything else in +verse with impunity.--<i>MS. L. (b)</i>]; and, in case of +accident, I beg leave to plead so illustrious a precedent.<br> +<a href="#fr869">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f821"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Dd:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Who did what Vestris--yet, at least,--cannot,<br> + And cut his kingly capers "Sans culotte."...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr821">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f871"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 52:</span></a> Ý For the story of +Billy Havard's tragedy, see Davies's <i>Life of Garrick</i>. I +believe it is <i>Regulus</i>, or <i>Charles the First</i> +[Lincoln's Inn Fields, March 1, 1737]. The moment it was known to +be his the theatre thinned, and the book-seller refused to give +the customary sum for the copyright. [See <i>Life of Garrick</i>, +by Thomas Davies (1808), ii. 205.]<br> +<a href="#fr871">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f823"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ee:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Who yet squeaks on nor fears to be forgot<br> + If good Earl Grosvenor supersede them not...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote><i>Who still frisk on with feats so vastly low<br> + 'Tis strange Earl Grosvenor suffers such a +show...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>] <a href="#fr823">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f875"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 53:</span></a> Ý: Thomas Erskine +(third son of the fifth Earl of Buchan) afterwards Lord Erskine +(1750-1823), Lord Chancellor (1806-7), an eloquent orator, a +supremely great advocate, was, by comparison, a failure as a +judge. His power over a jury, "his little twelvers," as he would +sometimes address them, was practically unlimited. (See +<i>Recollections of the Table-Talk of Samuel Rogers</i> (1856), +p. 126.)<br> +<a href="#fr875">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f826"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ff:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Suppressing Peer! to whom all vice gives +place,<br> + Save Gambling--for his Lordship loves a Race...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr826">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f878"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 54:</span></a> Ý Lines 589-626 are not +in the <i>Murray MS</i>., nor in either of the <i>Lovelace +MSS</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr878">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f828"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Gg:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Hobhouse, since we have roved through Eastern +climes,<br> + While all the Ægean echoed to our rhymes,<br> + And bound to Momus by some pagan spell<br> + Laughed, sang and quaffed to "Vive la +Bagatelle!...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote>Hobhouse, with whom once more I hope to sit And smile +at what our Stage retails for wit. Since few, I know, enjoy a +laugh so well Sardonic slave to "Vive la Bagatelle" So that in +your's like Pagan Plato's bed They'll find some book of Epigrams +when dead</blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>] <a href="#fr828">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f879"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 55:</span></a> ÝTo the Eclectic or +Christian Reviewers I have to return thanks for the fervour of +that charity which, in 1809, induced them to express a hope that +a thing then published by me might lead to certain consequences, +which, although natural enough, surely came but rashly from +reverend lips. I refer them to their own pages, where they +congratulated themselves on the prospect of a tilt between Mr. +Jeffrey and myself, from which some great good was to accrue, +provided one or both were knocked on the head. Having survived +two years and a half those "Elegies" which they were kindly +preparing to review, I have no peculiar gusto to give them "so +joyful a trouble," except, indeed, "upon compulsion, Hal;" but +if, as David says in <i>The Rivals</i>, it should come to "bloody +sword and gun fighting," we "won't run, will we, Sir Lucius?"<br> +<br> +[Byron, writing at Athens, away from his books, misquotes <i>The +Rivals</i>. The words, "Sir Lucius, we--we--we--we won't run," +are spoken by Acres, not by David.]<br> +<br> +I do not know what I had done to these Eclectic gentlemen: my +works are their lawful perquisite, to be hewn in pieces like +Agag, if it seem meet unto them: but why they should be in such a +hurry to kill off their author, I am ignorant. "The race is not +always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong:" and now, as +these Christians have "smote me on one cheek," I hold them up the +other; and, in return for their good wishes, give them an +opportunity of repeating them. Had any other set of men expressed +such sentiments, I should have smiled, and left them to the +"recording angel;" but from the pharisees of Christianity decency +might be expected. I can assure these brethren, that, publican +and sinner as I am, I would not have treated "mine enemy's dog +thus." To show them the superiority of my brotherly love, if ever +the Reverend Messrs. Simeon or Ramsden should be engaged in such +a conflict as that in which they requested me to fall, I hope +they may escape with being "winged" only, and that Heaviside may +be at hand to extract the ball.-- + +<blockquote>["If, however, the noble Lord and the learned +advocate have the courage requisite to sustain their mutual +insults, we shall probably soon hear the explosions of another +kind of <i>paper</i> war, after the fashion of the ever-memorable +duel which the latter is said to have fought, or seemed to fight, +with 'Little' Moore. We confess there is sufficient provocation, +if not in the critique, at least in the satire, to urge a 'man of +honour' to defy his assailant to mortal combat, and perhaps to +warrant a man of law to <i>declare</i> war in Westminster Hall. +Of this we shall no doubt hear more in due time"</blockquote> + +(<i>Eclectic Review</i>, May, 1809).<br> +<br> +Byron pretends to believe that the "Christian" Reviewers, +actuated by stern zeal for piety, were making mischief in sober +earnest.<br> +<br> +"Heaviside" (see last line of Byron's note) was the surgeon in +attendance at the duel between Lord Falkland and Mr. A. Powell. +(See <i>English Bards</i>, 1. 686, <a href= +"#f637"><i>note</i></a> 2.)<br> +<a href="#fr879">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f835"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Hh:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>My wayward Spirit weakly yields to gloom,<br> + But thine will waft thee lightly to the Tomb,<br> + So that in thine, like Pagan Plato's, bed<br> + They'll find some Manuscript of Mimes, when +dead...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr835">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f880"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 56:</span></a> Ý <i>Macbeth</i>, act +v. sc. 7.<br> + <a href="#fr880">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f840"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Jj:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And spite of Methodism and Collier's +curse...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>] + +<blockquote><i>He who's seduced by plays must be a fool<br> +<br> + If boys want teaching let them stay at +school...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] <a href="#fr840">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f881"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 57:</span></a> ÝSee the critique of +the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> on <i>Hours of Idleness</i>, January, +1808.<br> +<a href="#fr881">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f841"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Kk:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Whom Nature guides so writes that he who sees<br> + Enraptured thinks to do the same with ease...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr841">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f882"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 58:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Invenies alium, si te hic fastidit, +Alexin."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr882">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f843"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Mm:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But after toil-inked thumbs and bitten nails<br> + Scratched head, ten quires--the easy scribbler +fails...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr843">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f883"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 59:</span></a> ÝHere <i>MS. L.</i> (a) +recommences.<br> + <a href="#fr883">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f844"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Nn:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The one too rustic, t'other too +refined...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a and b)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr844">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f885"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 60:</span></a> ÝJohn Jackson +(1769-1845), better known as "Gentleman" Jackson, was champion of +England from 1795 to 1803. His three fights were against Fewterel +(1788), George Ingleston, nicknamed "the Brewer" (1789), and +Mendoza (1795). In 1803 he retired from the ring. His rooms at +13, Bond Street, became the head-quarters of the Pugilistic Club. +(See Pierce Egan's <i>Life in London</i>, pp. 252-254, where the +rooms are described, and a drawing of them by Cruikshank is +given.) Jackson's character stood high. + +<blockquote>"From the highest to the lowest person in the +Sporting World, his <i>decision</i> is law."</blockquote> + +He was Byron's guest at Cambridge, Newstead, and Brighton; +received from him many letters; and is described by him, in a +note to <i>Don Juan</i> (xi. 19), as + +<blockquote>"my old friend and corporeal pastor and +master."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr885">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f845"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Pp:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Offensive most to men with house and land<br> + Possessed of Pedigree and bloody hand...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr845">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f888"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 61:</span></a> Ý Mr. Southey has +lately tied another canister to his tail in <i>The Curse of +Kehama</i>, maugre the neglect of <i>Madoc</i>, etc., and has in +one instance had a wonderful effect. A literary friend of mine, +walking out one lovely evening last summer, on the eleventh +bridge of the Paddington canal, was alarmed by the cry of "one in +jeopardy:" he rushed along, collected a body of Irish haymakers +(supping on butter-milk in an adjacent paddock), procured three +rakes, one eel-spear and a landing net, and at last (<i>horresco +referens</i>) pulled out--his own publisher. The unfortunate man +was gone for ever, and so was a large quarto wherewith he had +taken the leap, which proved, on inquiry, to have been Mr. +Southey's last work. Its "alacrity of sinking" was so great, that +it has never since been heard of; though some maintain that it is +at this moment concealed at Alderman Birch's pastry premises, +Cornhill. Be this as it may, the coroner's inquest brought in a +verdict of "<i>Felo de bibliopolâ</i>" against a "quarto +unknown;" and circumstantial evidence being since strong against +<i>The Curse of Kehama</i> (of which the above words are an exact +description), it will be tried by its peers next session, in +Grub-street--Arthur, Alfred, Davideis, Richard Coeur de Lion, +Exodus, Exodiad, Epigoniad, Calvary, Fall of Cambria, Siege of +Acre, Don Roderick, and Tom Thumb the Great, are the names of the +twelve jurors. The judges are Pye, Bowles, and the bell-man of +St. Sepulchre's.<br> +<br> +The same advocates, pro and con, will be employed as are now +engaged in Sir F. Burdett's celebrated cause in the Scotch +courts. The public anxiously await the result, and all +<i>live</i> publishers will be subpoenaed as witnesses.--But Mr. +Southey has published <i>The Curse of Kehama</i>,--an inviting +title to quibblers. By the bye, it is a good deal beneath Scott +and Campbell, and not much above Southey, to allow the booby +Ballantyne to entitle them, in the <i>Edinburgh Annual +Register</i> (of which, by the bye, Southey is editor) "the grand +poetical triumvirate of the day." But, on second thoughts, it can +be no great degree of praise to be the one-eyed leaders of the +blind, though they might as well keep to themselves "Scott's +thirty thousand copies sold," which must sadly discomfort poor +Southey's unsaleables. Poor Southey, it should seem, is the +"Lepidus" of this poetical triumvirate. I am only surprised to +see him in such good company. + +<blockquote>"Such things, we know, are neither rich nor rare,<br> + But wonder how the devil <i>he</i> came there."</blockquote> + +The trio are well defined in the sixth proposition of Euclid:-- + +<blockquote>"Because, in the triangles D B C, A C B; D B is equal +to A C; and B C common to both; the two sides D B, B C, are equal +to the two A C, C B, each to each, and the angle D B C is equal +to the angle A C B: therefore, the base D C is equal to the base +A B, and the triangle D B C (Mr. Southey) is equal to the +triangle A C B, the less to the greater, which is absurd" +etc.</blockquote> + +<a name="fr931">The</a> editor of the <i>Edinburgh Register</i> +will find the rest of the theorem hard by his stabling; he has +only to cross the river; 'tis the first turnpike t' other side +<i>Pons Asinorum</i><a href="#f931"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>. + +<ul> +<li>[<i>The Curse of Kehama</i>, by Robert Southey, was published +1810;</li> + +<li><i>Arthur, or The Northern Enchantment</i>, by the Rev. +Richard Hole, in 1789;</li> + +<li><i>Alfred</i>, by Joseph Cottle, in 1801;</li> + +<li><i>Davideis`</i>, by Abraham Cowley, in 1656;</li> + +<li><i>Richard the First</i>, by Sir James Bland Surges, in +1801;</li> + +<li><i>Exodiad</i>, by Sir J. Bland Surges and R. Cumberland, in +1808;</li> + +<li><i>Exodus</i>, by Charles Hoyle, in 1802;</li> + +<li><i>Epigoniad</i>, by W. Wilkie, D.D., in 1757;</li> + +<li><i>Calvary</i>, by R. Cumberland, in 1792;</li> + +<li><i>Fall of Cambria</i>, by Joseph Cottle, in 1809;</li> + +<li><i>Siege of Acre</i>, by Hannah Cowley, in 1801;</li> + +<li><i>The Vision of Don Roderick</i>, by Sir Walter Scott, in +1811;</li> + +<li><i>Tom Thumb the Great</i>, by Henry Fielding, in 1730.</li> +</ul> + +The <i>Courier</i> of July 16, 1811, reports in full the first +stage of the case Sir F. Burdett <i>v.</i> William Scott (<i>vide +supra</i>), which was brought before Lord Meadowbank as ordinary +in the outer court. Jeffrey was counsel for the pursuer, who +sought to recover a sum of £5000 lent under a bond. For the +defence it was alleged that the money had been entrusted for a +particular purpose, namely, the maintenance of an infant. Jeffrey +denied the existence of any such claim, and maintained that +whatever was scandalous or calumnious in the defence was +absolutely untrue. The case, which was not included in the +Scottish Law Reports, was probably settled out of court. +Evidently the judge held that on technical grounds an action did +not lie. Burdett's enemies were not slow in turning the scandal +to account. (See a contemporary pamphlet, <i>Adultery and +Patriotism</i>, London, 1811.)]<br> +<br> +<a name="f931"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> This Latin has sorely puzzled the University +of Edinburgh. Ballantyne said it meant the "Bridge of Berwick," +but Southey claimed it as half English; Scott swore it was the +"Brig o' Stirling:" he had just passed two King James's and a +dozen Douglasses over it. At last it was decided by Jeffrey, that +it meant nothing more nor less than the "counter of Archy +Constable's shop."<br> +<a href="#fr931">return to main footnote</a><br> +<a href="#fr888">return to poem</a><br> +<a href="#fr891">cross-reference: return to Footnote 63 of this +poem</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f846"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Qq:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Composed for any but the lightest +strain...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr846">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f890"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 62:</span></a> ÝVoltaire's +<i>Pucelle</i> is not quite so immaculate as Mr. Southey's +<i>Joan of Arc</i>, and yet I am afraid the Frenchman has both +more truth and poetry too on his side--(they rarely go +together)--than our patriotic minstrel, whose first essay was in +praise of a fanatical French strumpet, whose title of witch would +be correct with the change of the first letter.<br> +<a href="#fr890">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f847"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Rr:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And must I then my...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr847">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f891"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 63:</span></a> Ý Like Sir Bland +Burges's <i>Richard</i>; the tenth book of which I read at Malta, +on a trunk of Eyre's, 19, Cockspur-street. If this be doubted, I +shall buy a portmanteau to quote from.<br> +<br> +[Sir James Bland Burges (1752-1824), who assumed, in 1821, the +name of Lamb, married, as his first wife, the Hon. Elizabeth +Noel, daughter of Lord Wentworth, and younger sister of Byron's +mother-in-law, Lady Milbanke. He was called to the bar in 1777, +and in the same year was appointed a Commissioner in Bankruptcy. +In 1787 he was returned M.P. for the borough of Helleston; and +from 1789 to 1795 held office as Under-Secretary for Foreign +Affairs. In 1795, at the instance of his chief, Lord Grenville, +he vacated his post, and by way of compensation was created a +baronet with a sinecure post as Knight-Marshal of the Royal +Household. Thenceforth he devoted himself to literature. In 1796 +he wrote the <i>Birth and Triumph of Love</i>, by way of +letter-press to some elegant designs of the Princess Elizabeth. +(For <i>Richard the First</i> and the <i>Exodiad</i>, see <a +href="#f888">note</a>, p. 436.) His plays, <i>Riches and Tricks +for Travellers</i>, appeared in 1810, and there were other works. +In spite of Wordsworth's testimony (Wordsworth signed, but +Coleridge dictated and no doubt composed, the letter: see +<i>Thomas Poole and His Friends</i>, ii. 27) "to a pure and +unmixed vein of native English" in <i>Richard the First</i> +(<i>Bland-Burges Papers</i>, 1885, p. 308), Burges as a poet +awaits rediscovery. His diaries, portions of which were published +in 1885, are lively and instructive. He has been immortalized in +Person's <i>Macaronics</i>-- + +<blockquote>"Poetis nos lætamur tribus,<br> + Pye, Petro Pindar, parvo Pybus.<br> + Si ulterius ire pergis,<br> + Adde his Sir James Bland Burges!"</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr891">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f848"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ss:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Ye who require Improvement...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr848">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f892"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 64:</span></a> Ý [Charles Lamb, in +"Christ's Hospital Five and Thirty Years Ago" (<i>Prose +Works</i>, 1836, ii. 30), records his repeated visits, as a Blue +Coat boy, "to the Lions in the Tower--to whose levée, by +courtesy immemorial, we had a prescriptive title to +admission."<br> +<a href="#fr892">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f849"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Tt:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And Tragedy, whatever stuff he spoke<br> + Now wants high heels, long sword and velvet +cloak...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a) erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr849">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f893"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 65:</span></a> Ý Lines 677, 678 are +not in <i>MS. L. (a)</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr893">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f851"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Uu:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Curtail or silence the offensive +jest...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>] + +<blockquote><i>Curtail the personal or smutty +jest...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a) erased</i>] <a href="#fr851">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f896"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 66:</span></a> Ý Lines 689-696 are not +in <i>MS. L. (a)</i> or <i>MS. L. (b)</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr896">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f852"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Vv:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Overthrow whole books with all their hosts of +faults...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr852">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f898"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 67:</span></a> Ý <i>MS. L. (a and +b)</i> continue at line 758.<br> + <a href="#fr898">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f856"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Ww:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>So that not Hellebore with all its +juice...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr856">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f901"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 68:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>"Tum quoque marmorea caput a cervice revulsum,<br> + Gurgite cum medio portans OEagrius Hebrus,<br> + Volveret Eurydicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua;<br> + Ah, miseram Eurydicen! animâ fugiente vocabat;<br> + Eurydicen toto referebant flumine ripæ."</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Georgic</i>, iv. 523-527.]<br> +<a href="#fr901">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f857"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Xx:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>I'll act instead of whetstone--blunted, but<br> + Of use to make another's razor cut...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr857">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f904"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 69:</span></a> Ý I beg Nathaniel's +pardon: he is not a cobbler; <i>it</i> is a <i>tailor</i>, but +begged Capel Lofft to sink the profession in his preface to two +pair of panta--psha!--of cantos, which he wished the public to +try on; but the sieve of a patron let it out, and so far saved +the expense of an advertisement to his country customers--Merry's +"Moorfields whine" was nothing to all this. The "Delia Cruscans" +were people of some education, and no profession; but these +Arcadians ("Arcades ambo"--bumpkins both) send out their native +nonsense without the smallest alloy, and leave all the shoes and +small-clothes in the parish unrepaired, to patch up Elegies on +Enclosures, and Pæans to Gunpowder. Sitting on a +shop-board, they describe the fields of battle, when the only +blood they ever saw was shed from the finger; and an "Essay on +War" is produced by the ninth part of a "poet;" + +<blockquote>"And own that <i>nine</i> such poets made a +Tate."</blockquote> + +Did Nathan ever read that line of Pope? and if he did, why not +take it as his motto?<br> +<br> +[<i>An Essay on War; Honington Green, a Ballad,. . . an Elegy and +other Poems</i>, was published in 1803.]<br> +<a href="#fr904">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f858"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Yy:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>From Horace show the better arts of +song...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr858">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f905"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 70:</span></a> Ý This well-meaning +gentleman has spoiled some excellent shoemakers, and been +accessory to the poetical undoing of many of the industrious +poor. Nathaniel Bloomfield and his brother Bobby have set all +Somersetshire singing; nor has the malady confined itself to one +county. Pratt too (who once was wiser) has caught the contagion +of patronage, and decoyed a poor fellow named Blackett into +poetry; but he died during the operation, leaving one child and +two volumes of "Remains" utterly destitute. The girl, if she +don't take a poetical twist, and come forth as a shoemaking +Sappho, may do well; but the "tragedies" are as ricketty as if +they had been the offspring of an Earl or a Seatonian prize poet. +The patrons of this poor lad are certainly answerable for his +end; and it ought to be an indictable offence. But this is the +least they have done: for, by a refinement of barbarity, they +have made the (late) man posthumously ridiculous, by printing +what he would have had sense enough never to print himself. +Certes these rakers of "Remains" come under the statute against +"resurrection men." What does it signify whether a poor dear dead +dunce is to be stuck up in Surgeons' or in Stationers' Hall? Is +it so bad to unearth his bones as his blunders? Is it not better +to gibbet his body on a heath, than his soul in an octavo? "We +know what we are, but we know not what we may be;" and it is to +be hoped we never shall know, if a man who has passed through +life with a sort of eclat is to find himself a mountebank on the +other side of Styx, and made, like poor Joe Blackett, the +laughing-stock of purgatory. The plea of publication is to +provide for the child; now, might not some of this <i>Sutor ultra +Crepidaitis</i> friends and seducers have done a decent action +without inveigling Pratt into biography? And then his inscription +split into so many modicums!-- "To the Duchess of Somuch, the +Right Hon. So-and-So, and Mrs. and Miss Somebody, these volumes +are," etc. etc.-- why, this is doling out the "soft milk of +dedication" in gills,-- there is but a quart, and he divides it +among a dozen. Why, Pratt, hadst thou not a puff left? Dost thou +think six families of distinction can share this in quiet? There +is a child, a book, and a dedication: send the girl to her grace, +the volumes to the grocer, and the dedication to the devil.<br> +<br> +[<a name="fr901a">For</a> Robert Bloomfield, see <i>English +Bards</i>, <a href="#fr661">ll. 774-786</a> (click c6 to return), +and <a href="#f661">note 2.</a> For Joseph Blacket, see +<i>English Bards</i>, <a href="#fr659">ll. 765-770</a> (click c7 +to return), and <a href="#f660">note 1</a>. Blacket's +<i>Remains</i>, with Life by Pratt, appeared in 1811. The work +was dedicated "To Her Grace the Duchess of Leeds, Lady Milbanke +and Family, Benevolent Patrons of the Author," etc.]<br> +<a href="#fr905">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f859"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote Zz:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To Trade, but gave their hours to arms and +arts...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote><i>With traffic...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>] <a href="#fr859">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f908"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 71:</span></a> Ý Lines 737-758 are not +in either of the three original MSS. of <i>Hints from Horace</i>, +and were probably written in the autumn of 1811. They appear +among a sheet of "alterations to <i>English Bards, and S. +Reviewers</i>, continued with additions" (<i>MSS. L.</i>), drawn +up for the fifth edition, and they are inserted on a separate +sheet in <i>MS. M.</i> A second sheet (<i>MSS. L.</i>) of "scraps +of rhyme,... principally additions and corrections for <i>English +Bards</i>, etc." (for the fifth edition), some of which are dated +1810, does not give the whole passage, but includes the following +variants (erased) of lines 753-756:-- + +<blockquote>(i.)<br> +<br> + "Then let thy ponderous quarto steep and stink,<br> + The dullest fattest weed on Lethe's brink.<br> + Down with that volume to the depths of hell!<br> + Oblivion seems rewarding it too well."<br> +<br> +<br> + (ii.)<br> +<br> + "Yet then thy quarto still may," etc.</blockquote> + +A "Druid" (see <i>English Bards</i>, l<a href="#fr651">ine +741</a> (click c10 to return)) was Byron's name for a scribbler +who wrote for his living. In <i>MS. M.</i>, "scribbler" has been +erased, and "Druid" substituted. It is doubtful to whom the +passage, in its final shape, was intended to apply, but it is +possible that the erased lines, in which "ponderous quarto" +stands for "lost songs," were aimed at Southey (see <i>ante</i>, +<a href="#fr888">line 657</a>, <a href="#f888"><i>note</i> +1</a>).<br> +<a href="#fr908">return to poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f860"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote aA:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Babe of old Thelusson<a href="#f932"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>--...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a) and (b)</i>]<br> +<br> + <a name="f734"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> Peter Isaac Thellusson, banker (died July 21, +1797), by his will directed that his property should accumulate +for the benefit of the unborn heir of an unborn grandson. The +will was, finally, upheld, but, meanwhile, on July 28, 1800, an +act (39 and 40 Geo. III.c.98) was passed limiting such executory +devises.] <a href="#fr860">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f910"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 72:</span></a> Ý<i>MS. L. (a)</i> +recommences at line 758.<br> + <a href="#fr910">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f863"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote bB:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A groat--ah bravo! Dick's the boy for sums<br> + He'll swell my fifty thousand into plums...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr863">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f912"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 73:</span></a> Ý Here will Mr. Gifford +allow me to introduce once more to his notice the sole survivor, +the <i>ultimus Romanorum</i>, the last of the Cruscanti--"Edwin" +the "profound" by our Lady of Punishment! here he is, as lively +as in the days of "well said Baviad the Correct." I thought +Fitzgerald had been the tail of poesy; but, alas! he is only the +penultimate. <b>A Familiar Epistle to the Editor of the +<i>Morning Chronicle</i>.</b> + +<blockquote>"What reams of paper, floods of ink,"<br> + Do some men spoil, who never think!<br> + And so perhaps you'll say of me,<br> + In which your readers may agree.<br> + Still I write on, and tell you why;<br> + Nothing's so bad, you can't deny,<br> + But may instruct or entertain<br> + Without the risk of giving pain, etc., etc.</blockquote> + +<br> + <b>On Some Modern Quacks and Reformists.</b> + +<blockquote>In tracing of the human mind<br> + Through all its various courses,<br> + Though strange, 'tis true, we often find<br> + It knows not its resources:<br> +<br> + And men through life assume a part<br> + For which no talents they possess,<br> + Yet wonder that, with all their art,<br> + They meet no better with success, etc., etc.</blockquote> + +[<i>A Familiar Epistle, etc.</i>, by T. Vaughan, Esq., was +published in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, October 7, 1811. +Gifford, in the <i>Baviad</i> (l. 350), speaks of "Edwin's +mewlings," and in a note names "Edwin" as the "profound Mr. T. +Vaughan." <i>Love's Metamorphoses</i>, by T. Vaughan, was played +at Drury Lane, April 15, 1776. He also wrote <i>The Hotel, or +Double Valet</i>, November 26, 1776, which Jephson rewrote under +the title of <i>The Servant with Two Masters.</i> Compare +<i>Children of Apollo</i>, p. 49:-- + +<blockquote>"Jephson, who has no humour of his own,<br> + Thinks it no crime to borrow from the town;<br> + The farce (almost forgot) of <i>The Hotel</i><br> + Or <i>Double Valet</i> seems to answer well.<br> + This and his own make <i>Two Strings to his +Bow</i>."]</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr912">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f866"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote cC:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Are idle dogs and (damn them!) always +poor...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a) and (b)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr866">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f916"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 74:</span></a> Ý See Milton's +<i>Lycidas</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr916">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f867"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote dD:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Unlike Potosi holds no silver +mine...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote><i>Keeps back his ingots like/Is rather +costive--like/Is no Potosi, but...an Irish Mine</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>] <a href="#fr867">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f918"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 75:</span></a> Ý Minerva being the +first by Jupiter's head-piece, and a variety of equally +unaccountable parturitions upon earth, such as Madoc, etc. +etc.<br> +<a href="#fr918">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f8"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote eE:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Write but recite not, e'en Apollo's song<br> + Mouthed in a mortal ear would seem too long,<br> + Long as the last year of a lingering lease,<br> + When Revel pauses until Rents increase...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr8">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f919"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 76:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A crust for the critics....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Bayes, in "the Rehearsal"</i>, [act ii. sc. 2]]<br> +<a href="#fr919">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f870"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote fF:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To finish all...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b )</i>] + +<blockquote><i>That Bard the mask will fit...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>] <a href="#fr870">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f920"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 77:</span></a> Ý And the "waiters" are +the only fortunate people who can "fly" from them; all the rest, +viz. the sad subscribers to the "Literary Fund," being compelled, +by courtesy, to sit out the recitation without a hope of +exclaiming, "Sic" (that is, by choking Fitz. with bad wine, or +worse poetry) "me servavit Apollo!"<br> +<br> +[See <i>English Bards</i>, <a href="#fr488">line 1</a> and <a +href="#f488"><i>note</i></a> 3.]<br> +<a href="#fr920">return to poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f872"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote gG:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Revenge defeats its object in the dark<br> + And pistols (courage bullies!) miss their +mark...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote><i>And pistols (courage duellists!) miss their +mark...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b)</i>] <a href="#fr872">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f922"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 78:</span></a> ÝLines 813-816 not in +<i>MS. L. (a)</i> or <i>MS. L. (b)</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr922">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f873"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote hH:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Though much displeased...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a) and (b)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr873">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f925"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 79:</span></a> ÝOn his table were +found these words:--"What Cato did, and Addison approved, cannot +be wrong." But Addison did not "approve;" and if he had, it would +not have mended the matter. He had invited his daughter on the +same water-party; but Miss Budgell, by some accident, escaped +this last paternal attention. Thus fell the sycophant of +"Atticus," and the enemy of Pope!<br> +<br> +[Eustace Budgell (1686-1737), a friend and relative of Addison's, +"leapt into the Thames" to escape the dishonour which attached to +him in connection with Dr. Tindal's will, and the immediate +pressure of money difficulties. He was, more or less, insane. + +<blockquote>"We talked (says Boswell) of a man's drowning +himself. I put the case of Eustace Budgell.<br> +<br> + 'Suppose, sir,' said I, 'that a man is absolutely sure that, if +he lives a few days longer, he shall be detected in a fraud, the +consequence of which will be utter disgrace, and expulsion from +society?'<br> +<br> + <b>Johnson</b>. 'Then, sir, let him go abroad to a distant +country; let him go to some place where he is <i>not</i> known. +Don't let him go to the devil, where he <i>is</i> +known.'"</blockquote> + +Boswell's <i>Life of Johnson</i> (1886), p. 281.]<br> +<a href="#fr925">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f874"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote jJ:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The The scrutiny....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr874">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f928"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 80:</span></a> Ý If "dosed with," etc. +be censured as low, I beg leave to refer to the original for +something still lower; and if any reader will translate "Minxerit +in patrios cineres," etc. into a decent couplet, I will insert +said couplet in lieu of the present.<br> +<a href="#fr928">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f876"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote kK:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Oh ye aspiring youths whom fate or +choice...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr876">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f877"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote mM:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>All are not Erskines who adorn the +bar...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr877">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f884"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote nN:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>With very middling verses to offend<br> + The Devil and Jeffrey grant but to a friend....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>] + +<blockquote><i><a name="fr933">Though</a> what "Gods, men, and +columns" interdict,<br> + The Devil and Jeffrey<a href="#f933"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> pardon--in a +Pict....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<br> +<a name="f734"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> "The Devil and Jeffrey are here placed +antithetically to gods and men, such being their usual position, +and their due one--according to the facetious saying, 'If God +won't take you, the Devil must;' and I am sure no one durst +object to his taking the poetry, which, rejected by Horace, is +accepted by Jeffrey. That these gentlemen are in some cases +kinder,--the one to countrymen, and the other from his odd +propensity to prefer evil to good,--than the 'gods, men, and +columns' of Horace, may be seen by a reference to the review of +Campbell's <i>Gertrude of Wyoming</i>; and in No. 31 of the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i> (given to me the other day by the captain +of an English frigate off Salamis), there is a similar concession +to the mediocrity of Jamie Graham's <i>British Georgics</i>. It +is fortunate for Campbell, that his fame neither depends on his +last poem, nor the puff of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. The +catalogues of our English are also less fastidious than the +pillars of the Roman librarians. A word more with the author of +<i>Gertrude of Wyoming</i>. At the end of a poem, and even of a +couplet, we have generally 'that unmeaning thing we call a +thought;' so Mr. Campbell concludes with a thought in such a +manner as to fulfil the whole of Pope's prescription, and be as +'unmeaning' as the best of his brethren:-- + +<blockquote>'Because I may not <i>stain</i> with grief<br> + The death-song of an Indian chief.'</blockquote> + +"When I was in the fifth form, I carried to my master the +translation of a chorus in Prometheus, wherein was a pestilent +expression about 'staining a voice,' which met with no quarter. +Little did I think that Mr. Campbell would have adopted my fifth +form 'sublime'--at least in so conspicuous a situation. 'Sorrow' +has been 'dry' (in proverbs), and 'wet' (in sonnets), this many a +day; and now it '<i>stains</i>,' and stains a sound, of all +feasible things! To be sure, death-songs might have been stained +with that same grief to very good purpose, if Outalissi had +clapped down his stanzas on wholesome paper for the <i>Edinburgh +Evening Post</i>, or any other given hyperborean gazette; or if +the said Outalissi had been troubled with the slightest second +sight of his own notes embodied on the last proof of an +overcharged quarto; but as he is supposed to have been an +improvisatore on this occasion, and probably to the last tune he +ever chanted in this world, it would have done him no discredit +to have made his exit with a mouthful of common sense. Talking of +'<i>staining</i>' (as Caleb Quotem says) 'puts me in mind' of a +certain couplet, which Mr. Campbell will find in a writer for +whom he, and his school, have no small contempt:-- + +<blockquote>'E'en copious Dryden wanted, or forgot,<br> + The last and greatest art--the art to <i>blot</i>!' +"</blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr933">return to this footnote</a> <a href= +"#fr884">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f886"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote pP:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And mustard rarely pleases in a +pie...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr886">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f887"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote qQ:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>At the Sessions...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (b) in pencil</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr887">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f889"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote rR:</span></a> Ý Lines 647-650-- + +<blockquote><i>Whose character contains no glaring fault...<br> + Shall I, I say...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr889">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f894"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote sS:</span></a> Ý After 660-- + +<blockquote><i>But why this hint-what author e'er could stop<br> + His poems' progress in a Grocers shop....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr894">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f895"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote tT:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>As lame as I am, but a better +bard...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr895">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f897"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote uU:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Apollo's song the fate of men +foretold...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr897">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f899"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote vV:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Have studied with a Master day and +night...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a, b)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr899">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f900"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote wW:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>They storm Bolt Court, they publish one and +all...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr900">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f902"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote xX:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Rogers played this prank...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr902">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f903"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote yY:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>There see their sonnets first--but Spring--hot +prest<br> + Beholds a Quarto--Tarts must tell the Rest....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr903">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f906"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote zZ:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To fuddled Esquires or to flippant +Lords...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr906">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f907"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote AA:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Till lo! that modern Midas of the swains--<br> + Feels his ears lengthen--with the lengthening +strains...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr907">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f909"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote BB:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Adds a week's growth to his enormous +ears...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr909">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f911"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote CC:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But what are these? Benefits might bind<br> + Some decent ties about a manly mind...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr911">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f913"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote DD:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Our modern sceptics can no more +allow....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr913">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f913"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote DD:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Some rhyming peer--Carlisle or Carysfort<a href= +"#f934"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS Newstead</i>]<br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f933"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> [To variant ii. (p. 444) (this footnote) is +subjoined this note: + +<blockquote>"Of 'John Joshua, Earl of Carysfort,' I know nothing +at present, but from an advertisement in an old newspaper of +certain Poems and Tragedies by his Lordship, which I saw by +accident in the Morea. Being a rhymer himself, he will forgive +the liberty I take with his name, seeing, as he must, how very +commodious it is at the close of that couplet; and as for what +follows and goes before, let him place it to the account of the +other Thane; since I cannot, under these circumstances, augur pro +or con the contents of his 'foolscap crown +octavos.'"</blockquote> + +[John Joshua Proby, first Earl of Carysfort, was joint +postmaster-general in 1805, envoy to Berlin in 1806, and +ambassador to Petersburgh in 1807. Besides his poems (<i>Dramatic +and Miscellaneous Works</i>, 1810), he published two pamphlets +(1780,1783), to show the necessity of universal suffrage and +short parliaments. He died in 1828.] <a href="#fr913">return to +poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f914"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote EE:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Hoarse with bepraising, and half choaked with +lies,<br> + Sweat on his brow and tear drops in his eyes...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr914">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f915"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote FF:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>hen sits again, then shakes his piteous head<br> + As if the Vicar were already dead....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr915">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f917"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote GG:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>But if you're too conceited to +amend...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr917">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f921"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote HH:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>On pain of suffering from their pen or +tongues...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>] + +<blockquote><i>fly Fitzgerald's lungs...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>] <a href="#fr921">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f923"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote JJ:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Ah when Bards mouth! how sympathetic Time<br> + Stagnates, and Hours stand still to hear their +rhyme...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M. erased</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr923">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f924"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote KK:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Besides how know ye? that he did not fling<br> + Himself there--for the humour of the thing....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr924">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f926"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote MM:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Small thanks, unwelcome life he quickly +leaves;<br> + And raving poets--really should not lose...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr926">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f927"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote NN:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Nor is it clearly understood that verse<br> + Has not been given the poet for a curse;<br> + Perhaps he sent the parson's pig to pound,<br> + Or got a child on consecrated ground;<br> + But, be this as it may, his rhyming rage<br> + Exceeds a Bear who strives to break his cage.<br> + If free, all fly his versifying fit;<br> + The young, the old, the simpleton and wit...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS L. (a)</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr927">return</a></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> + + +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section116">The Curse of Minerva</a></h2> + +<br> +<blockquote>--"Pallas te hoc vulnere, Pallas<br> + Immolat, et poenam scelerato ex sanguine sumit."<br> +<br> + <i>Æneid</i>, lib. xii. 947, 948.</blockquote> + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section116a">Notes to this edition</a></h3> + +<br> +<h4>Note 1</h4> + +In <i>The Malediction of Minerva (New Monthly Magazine</i>, vol. +iii. p. 240) additional footnotes are appended<br> +<ol> +<li>to line 106, recording the obliteration of Lord Elgin's name, +"which had been inscribed on a pillar of one of the principal +temples," while that of Lady Elgin had been left untouched; +and</li> + +<li>to line 196, giving quotations from pp. 158, 269, 419 of +Eustace's <i>Classical Tour in Italy</i>.</li> +</ol> + +After line 130, which reads, "And well I know within that murky +land" (<i>i.e</i>. Caledonia), the following apology for a hiatus +was inserted: + +<blockquote>"Here follows in the original certain lines which the +editor has exercised his discretion by suppressing; inasmuch as +they comprise national reflections which the bard's justifiable +indignation has made him pour forth against a people which, if +not universally of an amiable, is generally of a respectable +character, and deserves not in this case to be censured <i>en +masse</i> for the faults of an individual."</blockquote> + +<br> + + +<h4>Note 2</h4> + +The text of <i>The Curse of Minerva</i> is based on that of the +quarto printed by T. Davison in 1813. With the exception of the +variants, as noted, the text corresponds with the MS. in the +possession of Lord Stanhope. Doubtless it represents Byron's +final revision. The text of an edition of <i>The Curse, etc</i>., +Philadelphia, 1815, 8vo [printed by De Silver and Co.], was +followed by Galignani (third edit., 1818, etc.). The same text is +followed, but not invariably, in the selections printed by Hone +in 1816 (111 lines); Wilson, 1818 (112 lines); and Knight and +Lacy, 1824 (111 lines). It exhibits the following variants from +the quarto of 1813:-- + +<table summary="Minerva Note 2 variants" border="0" cellspacing= +"5" cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td><b>Line</b></td> +<td><b>Variant</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>56</td> +<td>---- <i>lands and main.</i> </td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>81</td> +<td><i>Her helm was deep indented and her lance.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>94</td> +<td><i>Seek'st thou the cause? O mortal, look around.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>102</td> +<td><i>That Hadrian ----</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>116</td> +<td><i>The last base brute ----</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>143</td> +<td><i>Ten thousand schemes of petulance and pride.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>152</td> +<td><i>----victors o'er the grave.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>162</td> +<td><i>----Time shall tell the rest.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>199</td> +<td><i>Loath'd throughout life--scarce pardon'd in the +dust.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>203</td> +<td><i>Erostratus and Elgin, etc.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>206</td> +<td><i>----viler than the first.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>222</td> +<td><i>Shall shake your usurpation to its base.</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>233</td> +<td><i>While Lusitania ----</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>273</td> +<td><i>Then in the Senates ----</i></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>290</td> +<td><i>---- decorate his fall.</i></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> + The following variants may also be noted:-- + +<table summary="Minerva Note 2 variants again" border="0" +cellspacing="5" cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td><b>Line</b></td> +<td><b>Variant</b></td> +<td><b>Publisher</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>1</td> +<td><i>Slow sinks now lovely, etc.--</i></td> +<td>Hone</td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>110</td> +<td><i>The Gothic monarch and the British----.</i></td> +<td>Hone</td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>110</td> +<td><i>----and his fit compeer</i></td> +<td>Wilson</td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>131</td> +<td><i>And well I know within that murky land.<br> + ...<br> + Dispatched her reckoning children far and wide.</i> </td> +<td>Hone</td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>131</td> +<td><i>And well I know, albeit afar, the land,<br> + Where starving Avarice keeps her chosen band;<br> + Or sends their hungry numbers eager forth.<br> + ...<br> + And aye accursed, etc.</i> </td> +<td>Wilson</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section116b">Introduction to <i>The Curse of +Minerva</i></a></h3> + +<br> +<i>The Curse of Minerva</i>, which was written at Athens, and is +dated March 17, 1811, remained unpublished, as a whole, in this +country, during Byron's life-time. The arrangement which had been +made with Cawthorn, to bring out a fifth edition of <i>English +Bards</i>, included the issue of a separate volume, containing +<i>Hints from Horace</i> and <i>The Curse of Minerva;</i> and, as +Moore intimates, it was the withdrawal of the latter, in +deference to the wishes of Lord Elgin or his connections, which +led to the suppression of the other satires.<br> +<br> +The quarto edition of The <i>Curse of Minerva</i>, printed by T. +Davison in 1812, was probably set up at the same time as Murray's +quarto edition of <i>Childe Harold</i>, and reserved for private +circulation. With or without Byron's consent, the poem as a whole +was published in Philadelphia by De Silver and Co., 18l5, 8vo +(for variants, see p. 453, <a href= +"#section116a"><i>note</i></a>). In a letter to Murray, March 6, +1816, he says that he "disowns" <i>The Curse, etc.</i>, "as +stolen and published in a miserable and villainous copy in the +magazine." The reference is to <i>The Malediction of Minerva, or +The Athenian Marble-Market</i>, which appeared in the <i>New +Monthly Magazine</i> for April, 1818, vol. iii. 240. It numbers +111 lines, and is signed "Steropes" (The Lightner, a Cyclops). +The text of the magazine, with the same additional footnotes, but +under the title of <i>The Curse</i>, etc., was republished in the +eighth edition of <i>Poems on His Domestic Circumstances</i>, W. +Hone, London, 1816, 8vo, and, thenceforth, in other piratical +issues. Whatever may have been his feelings or intentions in +1812, four years later Byron was well aware that <i>The Curse of +Minerva</i> would not increase his reputation as a poet, while +the object of his satire--the exposure and denunciation of Lord +Elgin--had been accomplished by the scathing stanzas (canto ii. +10-15), with their accompanying note, in <i>Childe Harold</i>. +"Disown" it as he might, his words were past recall, and both +indictments stand in his name.<br> +<br> +<a name="cr13">Byron</a> was prejudiced against Elgin before he +started on his tour. He had, perhaps, glanced at the splendid +folio, <i>Specimens of Ancient Sculpture</i>, which was issued by +the Dilettanti Society in 1809. Payne Knight wrote the preface, +in which he maintains that the friezes and metopes of the +Parthenon were not the actual work of Phidias, "but ... +architectural studies ... probably by workmen scarcely ranked +among artists." So judged the leader of the <i>cognoscenti</i>, +and, in accordance with his views, Elgin and Aberdeen are held up +to ridicule in <i>English Bards</i> (second edition, October, +1809, <a href="#fr717">l. 1007</a> (click c13 to return), and <a +href="#f725"><i>note</i></a>) as credulous and extravagant +collectors of "maimed antiques." It was, however, not till the +first visit to Athens (December, 1809-March, 1810), when he saw +with his own eyes the "ravages of barbarous and antiquarian +despoilers" (Lord Broughton's <i>Travels in Albania</i>, 1858, i. +259), that contempt gave way to indignation, and his wrath found +vent in the pages of <i>Childe Harold</i>.<br> +<br> +Byron cared as little for ancient buildings as he did for the +authorities, or for patriotic enterprise, but he was stirred to +the quick by the marks of fresh and, as he was led to believe, +wanton injury to "Athena's poor remains." The southern side of +the half-wrecked Parthenon had been deprived of its remaining +metopes, which had suffered far less from the weather than the +other sides which are still in the building; all that remained of +the frieze had been stripped from the three sides of the cella, +and the eastern pediment had been despoiled of its diminished and +mutilated, but still splendid, group of figures; and, though five +or six years had gone by, the blank spaces between the triglyphs +must have revealed their recent exposure to the light, and the +shattered edges of the cornice, which here and there had been +raised and demolished to permit the dislodgment of the metopes, +must have caught the eye as they sparkled in the sun. Nor had the +removal and deportation of friezes and statues come to an end. +The firman which Dr. Hunt, the chaplain to the embassy, had +obtained in 1801, which empowered Elgin and his agents to take +away <i>qualche pezzi di pietra</i>, still ran, and Don Tita +Lusieri, the Italian artist, who remained in Elgin's service, was +still, like the <i>canes venatici</i> (Americané, +"smell-dogs") employed by Verres in Sicily (see <i>Childe +Harold</i>, canto ii. st. 12, <i>note</i>), finding fresh relics, +and still bewailing to sympathetic travellers the hard fate which +compelled him to despoil the temples <i>malgré lui</i>. +The feelings of the inhabitants themselves were not much in +question, but their opinions were quoted for and against the +removal of the marbles. Elgin's secretary and prime agent, W.R. +Hamilton, testifies, from personal knowledge, that, "so far from +exciting any unpleasant sensations, the people seemed to feel it +as the means of bringing foreigners into the country, and of +having money spent there" (<i>Memoir on the Earl of Elgin's +Pursuits in Greece</i>, 1811). On the other hand, the traveller, +Edward Daniel Clarke, with whom Byron corresponded (see <i>Childe +Harold</i>, canto ii. st. 12, <i>note</i>), speaks of the +attachment of the Turks to the Parthenon, and their religious +veneration for the building as a mosque, and tells a pathetic +story of the grief of the Disdar when "a metope was lowered, and +the adjacent masonry scattered its white fragments with +thundering noise among the ruins" (<i>Travels in Various +Countries</i>, part ii. sect. ii. p. 483).<br> +<br> +Other travellers of less authority than Clarke--Dodwell, for +instance, who visited the Parthenon before it had been +dismantled, and, afterwards, was present at the removal of +metopes; and Hughes, who came after Byron (autumn, 18l3)--make +use of such phrases as "shattered desolation," "wanton +devastation and avidity of plunder." Even Michaelis, the great +archaeologist, who denounces <i>The Curse of Minerva</i> as a +"<i>libellous</i> poem," and affirms "that only blind passion +could doubt that Lord Elgin's act was an act of preservation," +admits that "the removal of several metopes and of the statue +from the Erechtheion had severely injured the surrounding +architecture" (<i>Ancient Marbles in Great Britain</i>, by A. +Michaelis, translated by C.A.M. Fennell, 1882, p. 135). Highly +coloured and emotional as some of these phrases may be, they +explain, if they do not justify, the <i>sæva indignatio</i> +of Byron's satire.<br> +<br> +It is almost, if not quite, unnecessary to state the facts on the +other side. History regards Lord Elgin as a disinterested +official, who at personal loss (at least thirty-five thousand +pounds on his own showing), and in spite of opposition and +disparagement, secured for his own country and the furtherance of +art the perishable fragments of Phidian workmanship, which, but +for his intervention, might have perished altogether. If they had +eluded the clutches of Turkish mason and Greek dealer in +antiquities--if, by some happy chance, they had escaped the +ravages of war, the gradual but gradually increasing assaults of +rain and frost would have already left their effacing scars on +the "Elgin marbles." As it is, the progress of decay has been +arrested, and all the world is the gainer. Byron was neither a +prophet nor an archaeologist, and time and knowledge have put him +in the wrong. But in 1810 the gaps in the entablature of the +Parthenon were new, the Phidian marbles were huddled in a "damp +dirty penthouse" in Park Lane (see <i>Life of Haydon</i>, i. 84), +and the logic of events had not justified a sad necessity.<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section116c">The Curse of Minerva</a></h3> + +<br> +<blockquote><i>Pallas te hoc Vulnere Pallas<br> + Immolat et poenam scelerato ex Sanguine Sumit.</i><br> +<br> +<b>Athens: Capuchin Convent</b>, March 17, 1811.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> + + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Curse of Minerva" border="0" cellspacing="5" +cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>Slow sinks, more lovely ere his race be run<a href= +"#f936"><sup>1</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr936">Along</a> Morea's hills the setting Sun;<br> + Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,<br> + <a name="fr937">But</a> one unclouded blaze of living light;<br> + O'er the hushed deep the yellow beam he throws<a href= +"#f937"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr938">Gilds</a> the green wave that trembles as it +glows;<br> + On old Ægina's rock and Hydra's isle<a href= +"#f938"><sup>2</sup></a><br> + The God of gladness sheds his parting smile;<br> + <a name="fr939">O'er</a> his own regions lingering loves to +shine,<br> + Though there his altars are no more divine<a href= +"#f939"><sup>b</sup></a>.<br> + Descending fast, the mountain-shadows kiss<br> + <a name="fr940">Thy</a> glorious Gulf, unconquered Salamis!<br> + Their azure arches through the long expanse<a href= +"#f940"><sup>c</sup></a>,<br> + More deeply purpled, meet his mellowing glance,<br> + And tenderest tints, along their summits driven,<br> + Mark his gay course, and own the hues of Heaven;<br> + <a name="fr941">Till</a>, darkly shaded from the land and +deep,<br> + Behind his Delphian rock he sinks to sleep<a href= +"#f941"><sup>d</sup></a>.<br> + <br> + On such an eve his palest beam he cast<br> + When, Athens! here thy Wisest looked his last.<br> + <a name="fr942">How</a> watched thy better sons his farewell +ray,<br> + That closed their murdered Sage's<a href= +"#f942"><sup>3</sup></a> latest day!<br> + Not yet--not yet--Sol pauses on the hill,<br> + The precious hour of parting lingers still;<br> + But sad his light to agonizing eyes,<br> + And dark the mountain's once delightful dyes;<br> + Gloom o'er the lovely land he seemed to pour,<br> + The land where Phoebus never frowned before;<br> + But ere he sunk below Cithaeron's head,<br> + <a name="fr943">The</a> cup of Woe was quaffed--the Spirit +fled;<br> + The soul of Him that scorned to fear or fly<a href= +"#f943"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> + Who lived and died as none can live or die.<br> + <br> + <a name="fr944">But</a> lo! from high Hymettus to the plain<br> + The Queen of Night asserts her silent reign;<a href= +"#f944"><sup>4</sup></a> <a href="#f945"><sup>f</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr945">No</a> murky vapour, herald of the storm<a href= +"#f946"><sup>g</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr946">Hides</a> her fair face, or girds her glowing +form;<br> + With cornice glimmering as the moonbeams play,<br> + There the white column greets her grateful ray,<br> + And bright around, with quivering beams beset,<br> + Her emblem sparkles o'er the Minaret;<br> + The groves of olive scattered dark and wide,<br> + Where meek Cephisus sheds his scanty tide,<br> + The cypress saddening by the sacred mosque,<br> + The gleaming turret of the gay kiosk<a href= +"#f947"><sup>5</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr947">And</a> sad and sombre 'mid the holy calm,<br> + Near Theseus' fane, yon solitary palm;<br> + All, tinged with varied hues, arrest the eye;<br> + And dull were his that passed them heedless by<a href= +"#f948"><sup>6</sup></a>.<br> + <a name="fr948">Again</a> the Ægean, heard no more +afar,<br> + Lulls his chafed breast from elemental war:<br> + Again his waves in milder tints unfold<br> + Their long expanse of sapphire and of gold,<br> + <a name="fr949">Mixed</a> with the shades of many a distant +isle<br> + That frown, where gentler Ocean deigns to smile<a href= +"#f949"><sup>h</sup></a>.<br> + <br> + As thus, within the walls of Pallas' fane,<br> + I marked the beauties of the land and main,<br> + Alone, and friendless, on the magic shore,<br> + Whose arts and arms but live in poets' lore;<br> + Oft as the matchless dome I turned to scan,<br> + Sacred to Gods, but not secure from Man,<br> + The Past returned, the Present seemed to cease,<br> + And Glory knew no clime beyond her Greece!<br> + <br> + Hour rolled along, and Dian's orb on high<br> + Had gained the centre of her softest sky;<br> + And yet unwearied still my footsteps trod<br> + O'er the vain shrine of many a vanished God<a href= +"#f950"><sup>j</sup></a>:<br> + <a name="fr950">But</a> chiefly, Pallas! thine, when Hecate's +glare<br> + Checked by thy columns, fell more sadly fair<br> + O'er the chill marble, where the startling tread<br> + Thrills the lone heart like echoes from the dead.<br> + Long had I mused, and treasured every trace<br> + The wreck of Greece recorded of her race,<br> + When, lo! a giant-form before me strode,<br> + And Pallas hailed me in her own Abode!<br> + <br> + Yes,'twas Minerva's self; but, ah! how changed,<br> + Since o'er the Dardan field in arms she ranged!<br> + Not such as erst, by her divine command,<br> + Her form appeared from Phidias' plastic hand:<br> + Gone were the terrors of her awful brow,<br> + Her idle Ægis bore no Gorgon now;<br> + Her helm was dinted, and the broken lance<br> + Seemed weak and shaftless e'en to mortal glance;<br> + The Olive Branch, which still she deigned to clasp,<br> + Shrunk from her touch, and withered in her grasp;<br> + And, ah! though still the brightest of the sky,<br> + Celestial tears bedimmed her large blue eye;<br> + Round the rent casque her owlet circled slow,<br> + And mourned his mistress with a shriek of woe!<br> + <br> + "Mortal!"--'twas thus she spake--"that blush of shame<br> + Proclaims thee Briton, once a noble name;<br> + First of the mighty, foremost of the free<a href= +"#f951"><sup>k</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr951">Now</a> honoured <i>less</i> by all, and +<i>least</i> by me:<br> + Chief of thy foes shall Pallas still be found.<br> + Seek'st thou the cause of loathing!--look around.<br> + Lo! here, despite of war and wasting fire,<br> + I saw successive Tyrannies expire;<br> + 'Scaped from the ravage of the Turk and Goth<a href= +"#f952"><sup>m</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr952">Thy</a> country sends a spoiler worse than +both.<br> + Survey this vacant, violated fane;<br> + <a name="fr953">Recount</a> the relics torn that yet remain:<br> + <i>These</i> Cecrops placed, <i>this</i> Pericles adorned<a +href="#f953"><sup>7</sup></a>,<br> + <i>That</i> Adrian reared when drooping Science mourned.<br> + What more I owe let Gratitude attest--<br> + Know, Alaric and Elgin did the rest.<br> + That all may learn from whence the plunderer came,<br> + The insulted wall sustains his hated name<a href= +"#f954"><sup>8</sup></a>:<br> + <a name="fr954">For</a> Elgin's fame thus grateful Pallas +pleads,<br> + Below, his name--above, behold his deeds!<br> + Be ever hailed with equal honour here<br> + The Gothic monarch and the Pictish peer<a href= +"#f955"><sup>n</sup></a>:<br> + <a name="fr955">Arms</a> gave the first his right, the last had +none,<br> + But basely stole what less barbarians won.<br> + So when the Lion quits his fell repast,<br> + Next prowls the Wolf, the filthy Jackal last<a href= +"#f956"><sup>o</sup></a>:<br> + <a name="fr956">Flesh</a>, limbs, and blood the former make +their own,<br> + The last poor brute securely gnaws the bone.<br> + Yet still the Gods are just, and crimes are crossed:<br> + See here what Elgin won, and what he lost!<br> + Another name with <i>his</i> pollutes my shrine:<br> + Behold where Dian's beams disdain to shine!<br> + <a name="fr957">Some</a> retribution still might Pallas +claim,<br> + When Venus half avenged Minerva's shame."<a href= +"#f957"><sup>9</sup></a><br> + <br> + She ceased awhile, and thus I dared reply,<br> + <a name="fr958">To</a> soothe the vengeance kindling in her +eye:<br> + "Daughter of Jove! in Britain's injured name<a href= +"#f958"><sup>p</sup></a>,<br> + A true-born Briton may the deed disclaim.<br> + Frown not on England; England owns him not:<br> + Athena, no! thy plunderer was a Scot.<br> + Ask'st thou the difference? From fair Phyles' towers<br> + Survey Boeotia;--Caledonia's ours.<br> + And well I know within that bastard land<a href= +"#f959"><sup>10</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr959">Hath</a> Wisdom's goddess never held +command;<br> + A barren soil, where Nature's germs, confined<br> + To stern sterility, can stint the mind;<br> + Whose thistle well betrays the niggard earth,<br> + Emblem of all to whom the Land gives birth;<br> + Each genial influence nurtured to resist;<br> + A land of meanness, sophistry, and mist<a href= +"#f960"><sup>q</sup></a>.<br> + <a name="fr960">Each</a> breeze from foggy mount and marshy +plain<br> + Dilutes with drivel every drizzly brain,<br> + Till, burst at length, each wat'ry head o'erflows,<br> + Foul as their soil, and frigid as their snows:<br> + Then thousand schemes of petulance and pride<br> + Despatch her scheming children far and wide;<br> + Some East, some West, some--everywhere but North!<br> + In quest of lawless gain, they issue forth.<br> + And thus--accursed be the day and year!<br> + She sent a Pict to play the felon here.<br> + Yet Caledonia claims some native worth<a href= +"#f961"><sup>11</sup></a>,<br> + <a name="fr961">As</a> dull Boeotia gave a Pindar birth;<br> + So may her few, the lettered and the brave,<br> + Bound to no clime, and victors of the grave,<br> + Shake off the sordid dust of such a land,<br> + And shine like children of a happier strand;<br> + As once, of yore, in some obnoxious place,<br> + Ten names (if found) had saved a wretched race."<br> + <br> + "Mortal!" the blue-eyed maid resumed, "once more<br> + Bear back my mandate to thy native shore.<a href= +"#f962"><sup>12</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr962">Though</a> fallen, alas! this vengeance yet is +mine,<br> + To turn my counsels far from lands like thine.<br> + Hear then in silence Pallas' stern behest;<br> + Hear and believe, for Time will tell the rest.<br> + <br> + "First on the head of him who did this deed<br> + My curse shall light,--on him and all his seed:<br> + Without one spark of intellectual fire,<br> + Be all the sons as senseless as the sire:<br> + If one with wit the parent brood disgrace,<br> + Believe him bastard of a brighter race:<br> + Still with his hireling artists let him prate,<br> + And Folly's praise repay for Wisdom's hate;<br> + Long of their Patron's gusto let them tell,<br> + Whose noblest, <i>native</i> gusto is--to sell:<br> + To sell, and make--may shame record the day!--<br> + The State--Receiver of his pilfered prey.<br> + Meantime, the flattering, feeble dotard, West,<br> + Europe's worst dauber, and poor Britain's best,<br> + <a name="fr963">With</a> palsied hand shall turn each model +o'er,<br> + And own himself an infant of fourscore.<a href= +"#f963"><sup>13</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr964">Be</a> all the Bruisers culled from all St. +Giles',<br> + That Art and Nature may compare their styles<a href= +"#f964"><sup>r</sup></a>;<br> + <a name="fr965">While</a> brawny brutes in stupid wonder +stare,<br> + And marvel at his Lordship's 'stone shop' there.<a href= +"#f965"><sup>14</sup></a><br> + Round the thronged gate shall sauntering coxcombs creep<br> + To lounge and lucubrate, to prate and peep;<br> + While many a languid maid, with longing sigh,<br> + On giant statues casts the curious eye;<br> + The room with transient glance appears to skim,<br> + Yet marks the mighty back and length of limb;<br> + Mourns o'er the difference of <i>now</i> and <i>then</i>;<br> + Exclaims, 'These Greeks indeed were proper men!'<br> + Draws slight comparisons of <i>these</i> with <i>those</i>,<a +href="#f966"><sup>s</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr966">And</a> envies Laïs all her Attic +beaux.<br> + When shall a modern maid have swains like these?<a href= +"#f967"><sup>t</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr967">Alas</a>! Sir Harry is no Hercules!<br> + And last of all, amidst the gaping crew,<br> + Some calm spectator, as he takes his view,<br> + In silent indignation mixed with grief,<br> + Admires the plunder, but abhors the thief.<br> + Oh, loathed in life, nor pardoned in the dust,<br> + May Hate pursue his sacrilegious lust!<br> + <a name="fr968">Linked</a> with the fool that fired the Ephesian +dome,<br> + Shall vengeance follow far beyond the tomb,<a href= +"#f968"><sup>15</sup></a><br> + And Eratostratus<a href="#f969"><sup>16</sup></a> and Elgin +shine<br> + <a name="fr969">In</a> many a branding page and burning +line;<br> + Alike reserved for aye to stand accursed,<br> + Perchance the second blacker than the first.<br> + <br> + "So let him stand, through ages yet unborn,<br> + Fixed statue on the pedestal of Scorn;<br> + Though not for him alone revenge shall wait,<br> + But fits thy country for her coming fate:<br> + Hers were the deeds that taught her lawless son<br> + To do what oft Britannia's self had done.<br> + <a name="fr970">Look</a> to the Baltic--blazing from afar,<br> + Your old Ally yet mourns perfidious war.<a href= +"#f970"><sup>17</sup></a><br> + Not to such deeds did Pallas lend her aid,<br> + Or break the compact which herself had made;<br> + Far from such counsels, from the faithless field<br> + She fled--but left behind her Gorgon shield;<br> + A fatal gift that turned your friends to stone,<br> + And left lost Albion hated and alone.<br> + <br> + "Look to the East,<a href="#f971"><sup>18</sup></a> where +Ganges' swarthy race<br> + <a name="fr971">Shall</a> shake your tyrant empire to its +base;<br> + Lo! there Rebellion rears her ghastly head,<br> + And glares the Nemesis of native dead;<br> + Till Indus rolls a deep purpureal flood,<br> + And claims his long arrear of northern blood.<br> + So may ye perish!--Pallas, when she gave<br> + Your free-born rights, forbade ye to enslave.<br> + <br> + "Look on your Spain!--she clasps the hand she hates,<br> + But boldly clasps, and thrusts you from her gates.<br> + Bear witness, bright Barossa!<a href="#f972"><sup>19</sup></a> +thou canst tell<br> + <a name="fr972">Whose</a> were the sons that bravely fought and +fell.<br> + But Lusitania, kind and dear ally,<br> + Can spare a few to fight, and sometimes fly.<br> + Oh glorious field! by Famine fiercely won,<br> + The Gaul retires for once, and all is done!<br> + But when did Pallas teach, that one retreat<br> + Retrieved three long Olympiads of defeat?<br> + <br> + "Look last at home--ye love not to look there<br> + On the grim smile of comfortless despair:<br> + Your city saddens: loud though Revel howls,<br> + Here Famine faints, and yonder Rapine prowls.<br> + See all alike of more or less bereft;<br> + No misers tremble when there's nothing left.<br> + 'Blest paper credit;'<a href="#f973"><sup>20</sup></a> who shall +dare to sing?<br> + <a name="fr973">It</a> clogs like lead Corruption's weary +wing.<br> + Yet Pallas pluck'd each Premier by the ear,<br> + Who Gods and men alike disdained to hear;<br> + But one, repentant o'er a bankrupt state,<br> + On Pallas calls,--but calls, alas! too late:<br> + Then raves for '——'; to that Mentor bends,<br> + Though he and Pallas never yet were friends.<br> + Him senates hear, whom never yet they heard,<br> + Contemptuous once, and now no less absurd.<br> + So, once of yore, each reasonable frog,<br> + Swore faith and fealty to his sovereign 'log.'<br> + <a name="fr974">Thus</a> hailed your rulers their patrician +clod,<br> + As Egypt chose an onion<a href="#f974"><sup>21</sup></a> for a +God.<br> + <br> + "Now fare ye well! enjoy your little hour;<br> + Go, grasp the shadow of your vanished power;<br> + Gloss o'er the failure of each fondest scheme;<br> + Your strength a name, your bloated wealth a dream.<br> + Gone is that Gold, the marvel of mankind.<br> + And Pirates barter all that's left behind.<a href= +"#f975"><sup>22</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr975">No</a> more the hirelings, purchased near and +far,<br> + Crowd to the ranks of mercenary war.<br> + The idle merchant on the useless quay<br> + Droops o'er the bales no bark may bear away;<br> + Or, back returning, sees rejected stores<br> + Rot piecemeal on his own encumbered shores:<br> + The starved mechanic breaks his rusting loom,<br> + And desperate mans him 'gainst the coming doom.<br> + Then in the Senates of your sinking state<br> + Show me the man whose counsels may have weight.<br> + Vain is each voice where tones could once command;<br> + E'en factions cease to charm a factious land:<br> + Yet jarring sects convulse a sister Isle,<br> + And light with maddening hands the mutual pile.<br> + <br> + "'Tis done, 'tis past--since Pallas warns in vain;<br> + The Furies seize her abdicated reign:<br> + Wide o'er the realm they wave their kindling brands,<br> + <a name="fr976">And</a> wring her vitals with their fiery +hands.<br> + But one convulsive struggle still remains,<a href= +"#f976"><sup>u</sup></a><br> + <a name="fr977">And</a> Gaul shall weep ere Albion wear her +chains,<br> + The bannered pomp of war, the glittering files,<a href= +"#f977"><sup>v</sup></a><br> + O'er whose gay trappings stern Bellona smiles;<br> + The brazen trump, the spirit-stirring drum,<br> + That bid the foe defiance ere they come;<br> + The hero bounding at his country's call,<br> + The glorious death that consecrates his fall,<br> + Swell the young heart with visionary charms.<br> + And bid it antedate the joys of arms.<br> + But know, a lesson you may yet be taught,<br> + With death alone are laurels cheaply bought;<br> + Not in the conflict Havoc seeks delight,<br> + His day of mercy is the day of fight.<br> + But when the field is fought, the battle won,<br> + Though drenched with gore, his woes are but begun:<br> + His deeper deeds as yet ye know by name;<br> + The slaughtered peasant and the ravished dame,<br> + The rifled mansion and the foe-reaped field,<br> + Ill suit with souls at home, untaught to yield.<br> + Say with what eye along the distant down<br> + Would flying burghers mark the blazing town?<br> + How view the column of ascending flames<br> + Shake his red shadow o'er the startled Thames?<br> + Nay, frown not, Albion! for the torch was thine<br> + That lit such pyres from Tagus to the Rhine:<br> + Now should they burst on thy devoted coast,<br> + Go, ask thy bosom who deserves them most?<br> + The law of Heaven and Earth is life for life,<br> + And she who raised, in vain regrets, the strife."</td> +<td><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +100<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +110<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +120<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +130<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +140<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +150<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +160<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +170<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +180<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +190<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +200<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +210<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +220<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +230<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +240<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +250<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<a href="#f971">c13</a> <br> +<br> +<br> + 260<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +270<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +280<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +290<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +300<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +310<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="Curse of Minerva footnotes" border="1" +cellspacing="5" cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f936"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span></a> Ý The lines (1-54) with +which the Satire begins, down to "As thus, within the walls of +Pallas' fane," first appeared (1814) as the opening stanza of the +Third Canto of <i>The Corsair</i>. At that time the publication +of <i>The Curse of Minerva</i> had been abandoned. (See Byron's +<i>note</i> to <i>The Corsair</i>, Canto III. st. i. line i.)<br> +<a href="#fr936">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f937"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>O'er the blue ocean way his...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.<a href="#f979"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a></i>]<br> +<br> +<a name="f979"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> The only MS. of <i>The Curse of Minerva</i> +which the editor has seen, is in the possession of the Earl of +Stanhope. A second MS., formerly in the possession of the Duke of +Newcastle, is believed to have perished in a fire which broke out +at Clumber in 1879.<br> +<a href="#fr937">return to poem</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f938"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span></a> Ý Idra; <i>The +Corsair</i>, III. st. i. line 7. Hydra, or Hydrea, is an island +on the east coast of the Peloponnese, between the gulfs of +Nauplia and Ægina. As an "isle of Greece" it had almost no +history until the War of Independence, when its chief town became +a "city of refuge" for the inhabitants of the Morea and Northern +Greece. Byron was, perhaps, the first poet to give it a name in +song.<br> +<a href="#fr938">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f939"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Nor yet forbears each long-abandoned +shrine...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr939">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f942"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span></a> Ý Socrates drank the +hemlock a short time before sunset (the hour of execution), +notwithstanding the entreaties of his disciples to wait till the +sun went down.<br> +<a href="#fr942">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f940"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Their varying azure mingled with the sky<br> + Beneath his rays assumes a deeper dye...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr940">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f944"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span></a> ÝThe twilight in Greece +is much shorter than in our own country; the days in winter are +longer, but in summer of less duration.<br> +<a href="#fr944">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f941"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Behind his Delphian cliff...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Corsair</i>, III. st. i. l. 18.]<br> +<a href="#fr941">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f947"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span></a> Ý The kiosk is a Turkish +summer-house; the palm is without the present walls of Athens, +not far from the temple of Theseus, between which and the tree +the wall intervenes. Cephisus' stream is indeed scanty, and +Ilissus has no stream at all.<br> +<a href="#fr947">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f943"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>The soul of him who...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Corsair</i>, III. st. i. 1. 31.<br> +<a href="#fr943">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f948"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"The Temple of Theseus is the most perfect ancient +edifice in the world. In this fabric, the most enduring +stability, and a simplicity of design peculiarly striking, are +united with the highest elegance and accuracy of +workmanship."</blockquote> + +<i>Travels in Albania, etc.</i>, by Lord Broughton (1858), i. +259.<br> +<a href="#fr948">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f945"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>silver reign...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr945">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f953"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span></a> Ý This is spoken of the +city in general, and not of the Acropolis in particular. The +temple of Jupiter Olympius, by some supposed the Pantheon, was +finished by Hadrian; sixteen columns are standing, of the most +beautiful marble and architecture.<br> +<a href="#fr953">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f946"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>How sweet and Silent, not a passing cloud<br> + Hides her fair face with intervening shroud...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr946">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f954"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span></a> Ý The following lines, +of which the first two were written on the original <i>MS</i>., +are in Byron's handwriting:-- + +<blockquote>"Aspice quos Scoto Pallas concedit honores;<br> + Subter stat nomen, facta superque vide.<br> +Scote miser! quamvis nocuisti Palladis ædi,<br> + Infandum facinus vindicat ipsa Venus.<br> +Pygmalion statuam pro sponsâ arsisse refertur;<br> + Tu statuam rapias, Scote, sed uxor abest."</blockquote> + +Compare <i>Horace in London</i>, by the authors of <i>Rejected +Addresses</i> (James and Horace Smith), London, 1813, ode xv., +"The Parthenon," "<i>Pastor quum traheret per freta navibus</i>." + + +<blockquote>"And Hymen shall thy nuptial hopes consume,<br> + Unless, like fond Pygmalion, thou canst wed<br> +Statues thy hand could never give to bloom.<br> + In wifeless wedlock shall thy life be led,<br> +No marriage joys to bless thy solitary bed."<br> +</blockquote> + +[Lord Elgin's first marriage with Mary, daughter of William +Hamilton Nisbet, was dissolved by Act of Parliament in 1808.]<br> +<a href="#fr954">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f949"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>seems to smile...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Corsair</i>, III. st. i. 1. 54.]<br> +<a href="#fr949">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f957"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 9:</span></a> Ý His lordship's name, +and that of one who no longer bears it, are carved conspicuously +on the Parthenon; above, in a part not far distant, are the torn +remnants of the bassorelievos, destroyed in a vain attempt to +remove them.<br> +<br> +[On the Erechtheum there was deeply cut in a plaster wall the +words-- + +<blockquote>"<b>Quod Non Fecerunt Goti,<br> + Hoc Fecerunt Scoti</b>."]</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr957">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f950"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Sad shrine...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr950">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f959"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 10:</span></a> Ý"Irish bastards," +according to Sir Callaghan O'Brallaghan. ["A wild Irish soldier +in the Prussian Army," in Macklin's <i>Love-à-la-Mode</i> +(first played December 12, 1759).]<br> +<a href="#fr959">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f951"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Welcome to slaves, and +foremost...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr951">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f961"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 11:</span></a> ÝLines 149-156 not in +original <i>MS</i>.<br> + <a href="#fr961">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f952"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Ah, Athens! scarce escaped from Turk and Goth,<br> + Hell sends a paltry Scotchman worse than +both....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr952">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f962"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 12:</span></a> Ý Compare <i>Horace in +London</i>, ode xv.:-- + +<blockquote>"All who behold my mutilated pile,<br> + Shall brand its ravages with classic rage;<br> +And soon a titled bard from Britain's isle<br> + Thy country's praise and suffrage shall engage,<br> + And fire with Athens' wrongs an angry age."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr962">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f955"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>British peer...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr955">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f963"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 13:</span></a> Ý Mr. West, on seeing +the "Elgin Collection," (I suppose we shall hear of the +"Abershaw" and "Jack Shephard" collection) declared himself a +"mere tyro" in art.<br> +<br> +[Compare Letters of Benjamin West to the Earl of Elgin, February +6, 1809, March 20, 1811, published in W.R. Hamilton's +<i>Memorandum</i>, 1811.]<br> +<a href="#fr963">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f956"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote o:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Sneaking Jackal...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr956">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f965"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 14:</span></a> ÝPoor Crib was sadly +puzzled when the marbles were first exhibited at Elgin House; he +asked if it was not "a stone shop?"--He was right; it <i>is</i> a +shop.<br> +<a href="#fr965">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f958"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>guilty name...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr958">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f968"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 15:</span></a> Ý Lines 202-265 are not +in the MS.<br> + <a href="#fr968">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f960"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote q:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>A land of liars, mountebanks, and +Mist...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr960">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f969"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 16:</span></a> Ý Herostratus or +Eratostratus fired the temple of Artemis on the same night that +Alexander the Great was born. (See Plut., <i>Alex</i>., 3, +etc.)<br> +<a href="#fr969">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f964"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote r:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>That Art may measure old and modern +styles...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr964">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f970"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 17:</span></a> ÝThe affair of +Copenhagen. Copenhagen was bombarded by sea by Admiral Lord +Gambier (1756-1833), and by land by General Lord Cathcart +(1755-1843), September 2-8, 1807. The citadel was given up to the +English, and the Danes surrendered their fleet, with all the +naval stores, and their arsenals and dockyards. The expedition +was "promptly and secretly equipped" by the British Government +"with an activity and celerity," says Koch (<i>Hist. of +Europe</i>, p. 214), "such as they had never displayed in sending +aid to their allies," with a view to anticipate the seizure and +appropriation of the Danish fleet by Napoleon and Alexander +(Green's <i>Hist. English People</i> (1875), p. 799).<br> +<a href="#fr970">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f966"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote s:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>shy comparisons...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr966">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f971"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 18:</span></a> Ý"The East" is brought +within range of Minerva's curse, <i>symmetriae causâ</i>, +and it is hard to say to which "rebellion" she refers. A choice +lies between the mutiny which broke out in 1809, during Sir +George Barlow's presidency of Madras, among the officers of the +Company's service, and which at one time threatened the +continuance of British sway in India; and later troubles, in +1810, arising from the Pindárí hordes, who laid +waste the villages of Central India and Hindostan, and from the +Pathans, who invaded Berar under Ameer Khan. But here, as in <a +href="#fr973">lines 245-258</a> (click on c13 to return) (<i>vide +infra</i>, p. 470, <a href="#f974"><i>note</i></a> i), Byron is +taking toll of a note to <i>Epics of the Ton</i>, pp. 246, 247, +which enlarges on the mutiny of native soldiers which took place +at Vellore in 1806, where several "European officers and a +considerable portion of the 69th Regiment were massacred," in +consequence of "an injudicious order with respect to the dress of +the Sepoys."--Gleig's <i>History of the British Empire in +India</i> (1835), iii. 233, <i>note</i>.x<br> +<a href="#fr971">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f967"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote t:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>In sooth the Nymph 'twere no slight task to +please<br> + Since young Sir Harry, etc....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr967">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f972"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 19:</span></a> Ý The victory of +"bright Barossa," March 5, 1811, was achieved by the sudden +determination--"an inspiration rather than a resolution," says +Napier--of the British commander, General Graham (Thomas, Lord +Lynedoch, 1750-1843), to counter-march his troops, and force the +eminence known as the Cerro de Puerco, or hill of Barosa, which +had fallen into the hands of the French under Ruffin. Graham was +at this time second in command to the Spanish Captain-general, La +Peña, and at his orders, but under the impression that the +hill would be guarded by the Spanish troops, was making his way +to a neighbouring height. Meantime La Peña had withdrawn +the corps of battle to a distance, and left the hill covered with +baggage and imperfectly protected. Graham recaptured Barosa, and +repulsed the French with heavy loss, in an hour and a half. +Napier affirms that La Peña "looked idly on, neither +sending his cavalry nor his horse artillery to the assistance of +his ally;" and testifies "that no stroke in aid of the British +was struck by a Spanish sabre that day."<br> +<br> +"Famine" may have raised the devil in the English troops, but it +prevented them from following up the victory. A further charge +against the Spaniards was that, after Barosa had been won, the +English were left for hours without food, and, as they had +marched through the night before they came into action, they +could only look on while the French made good their retreat.<br> +<br> +Two companies of the 20th Portuguese formed part of the British +contingent, and took part in the engagement. The year before, at +Busaco (September 27, 1810), the Portuguese had displayed signal +bravery; but at Gebora (February 19, 1811) "Madden's Portuguese, +regardless of his example and reproaches, shamefully turned their +backs" (Napier's <i>History of the Peninsular War</i> (1890), +iii. 26, 98, 102-107).<br> +<a href="#fr972">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f976"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote u:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Fallen is each dear bought friend on Foreign +Coast<br> + Or leagued to add you to the world you lost...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr976">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f973"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 20:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"Blest paper credit! last and best supply,<br> + That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly."<br> +<br> + (<b>Pope</b>.)</blockquote> + +[In February, 1811, a select committee of the House of Commons +"on commercial credit" recommended an advance of £6,000,000 +to manufacturers who were suffering from over-speculation. + +<blockquote>"Did they not know," asked Lord Grenville, in the +House of Lords, March 21, "that they were adding to the mass of +paper at this moment in existence a sum of £6,000,000, as +if there was not paper enough already in the country, in order to +protect their commerce and manufactures from +destruction?"</blockquote> + +Nevertheless, the measure passed. The year before (February 19, +1810), a committee which had sat under the presidency of Francis +Horner, to inquire into the cause of the high price of gold +bullion (gold was worth £4. 10s. an ounce), returned (June +10) a report urging the resumption of cash payment at the end of +two years.<br> +<br> +It has been suggested to the editor that the asterisks +('——') in line 251 (which are not filled up in Lord +Stanhope's MS. of <i>The Curse of Minerva</i>) stand for +"Horner," and that Byron, writing at Athens in March, 1811, was +under the impression that Perceval would adopt sound views on the +currency question, and was not aware that he was strongly +anti-bullionist. On that supposition the two premiers are +Portland and Perceval, Horner is the Mentor, and Perceval (line +257) the "patrician clod." To what extent Byron was <i>au +courant</i> with home politics when he wrote the lines, it is +impossible to say, and without such knowledge some doubt must +rest on any interpretation of the passage. But of its genesis +there is no doubt. Lady Ann Hamilton, in her estimate of Lord +Henry Petty, in <i>Epics of the Ton</i> (p. 139), has something +to say on budget "figures"-- + +<blockquote>"Those imps which make the senses reel, and +zounds!<br> + Mistake a cypher for a thousand pounds;"</blockquote> + +and her note-writer comments thus: "It somewhat hurts the +feelings to see a minister stand up in his place, and after a +very pretty exordium to the budget, take up a bundle of papers +from the table, gaze at the incomprehensible calculations before +him, stammer out a few confused numbers, and then, with a rueful +face, look over his shoulder to V--ns--rt for assistance. How +often have I grieved to see unhappy A--d--g--n in this lamentable +predicament!" Again, on Thellusson being raised to the peerage as +Lord Rendlesham, she asks-- + +<blockquote>"Say, shall we bend to titles thus bestowed,<br> + And like the Egyptians, hail the calf a god?<br> + With toads, asps, onions, ornament the shrine,<br> + And reptiles own and pot-herbs things divine?"<br> +</blockquote> + +It is evident that Byron, uninspired by Pallas, turned to the +<i>Epics of the Ton</i> for "copy," but whether he left a blank +on purpose because "Vansittart" (to whom Perceval did turn) would +not scan, or, misled by old newspapers, would have written +"Horner," must remain a mystery.<br> +<a href="#fr973">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f977"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote v:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>---the glittering file<br> + The martial sounds that animate the while...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr977">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f974"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 21:</span></a> Ý See the portrait of +Spencer Perceval in the National Portrait Gallery.<br> +<a href="#fr974">return</a><br> +<a href="#f971">cross-reference: return to Footnote 18 of this +poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f975"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 22:</span></a> ÝThe Deal and Dover +traffickers in specie.<br> + <a href="#fr975">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h2><a name="section117">The Waltz</a></h2> + +<br> +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<h3><a name="section117a">Introduction</a></h3> + +<br> +Byron spent the autumn of 1812 "by the waters of Cheltenham," +and, besides writing to order his <i>Song of Drury Lane</i> (the +address spoken at the opening of the theatre, Oct. 10, 1812), he +put in hand a <i>Satire on Waltzing</i>. It was published +anonymously in the following spring; but, possibly, because it +was somewhat coolly received, he told Murray (April 21, 1813) "to +contradict the report that he was the author of a certain +malicious publication on waltzing." In his memoranda "chiefly +with reference to my Byron," Moore notes "Byron's hatred of +waltzing," and records a passage of arms between "the lame boy" +and Mary Chaworth, which arose from her "dancing with some person +who was unknown to her." Then, and always, he must have +experienced the bitter sense of exclusion from active amusements; +but it is a hasty assumption that Byron only denounced waltzing +because he was unable to waltz himself. To modern sentiment, on +the moral side, waltzing is unassailable; but the first +impressions of spectators, to whom it was a novelty, were +distinctly unfavourable.<br> +<br> +In a letter from Germany (May 17, 1799) Coleridge describes a +dance round the maypole at Rübeland. + +<blockquote>"The dances were reels and the waltzes, but chiefly +the latter; this dance is in the higher circles sufficiently +voluptuous, but here the motions of it were <i>far</i> more +faithful interpreters of the passions."</blockquote> + +A year later, H.C. Robinson, writing from Frankfort in 1800 +(<i>Diary and Letters</i>, i. 76), says, "The dancing is unlike +anything you ever saw. You must have heard of it under the name +of waltzing, that is rolling and turning, though the rolling is +not horizontal but perpendicular. Yet Werther, after describing +his first waltz with Charlotte, says, and I say so too, 'I felt +that if I were married my wife should waltz (or roll) with no one +but myself.'" Ten years later, Gillray publishes a caricature of +the waltz, as a French dance, which he styles, "Le bon Genre." It +is not a pretty picture. By degrees, however, and with some +reluctance, society yielded to the fascinations of the stranger. + +<blockquote>"My cousin Hartington," writes Lady Caroline Lamb, in +1812 (<i>Memoirs of Viscount Melbourne</i>, by W.T. McCullagh +Torrens, i. 105), "wanted to have waltzes and quadrilles; and at +Devonshire House it could not be allowed, so we had them in the +great drawing-room at Whitehall. All the <i>bon ton</i> assembled +there continually. There was nothing so +fashionable."</blockquote> + +"No event," says Thomas Raikes (<i>Personal Reminiscences</i>, p. +284), ever produced so great a sensation in English society as +the introduction of the German waltz.... Old and young returned +to school, and the mornings were now absorbed at home in +practising the figures of a French quadrille or whirling a chair +round the room to learn the step and measure of the German waltz. +The anti-waltzing party took the alarm, cried it down; mothers +forbad it, and every ballroom became a scene of feud and +contention. The foreigners were not idle in forming their +<i>élèves</i>; Baron Tripp, Neumann, St. Aldegonde, +etc., persevered in spite of all prejudices which were marshalled +against them. It was not, however, till Byron's "malicious +publication" had been issued and forgotten that the new dance +received full recognition. "When," Raikes concludes, "the Emperor +Alexander was seen waltzing round the room at Almack's with his +tight uniform and numerous decorations," or [Gronow, +<i>Recollections</i>, 1860, pp. 32, 33] "Lord Palmerston might +have been seen describing an infinite number of circles with +Madame de Lieven," insular prejudices gave way, and waltzing +became general.<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section117b">Note to this edition</a></h3> + +<br> +The title-page of the first edition (4to.) of <i>The Waltz</i> +bears the imprint: + +<blockquote>London:<br> +Printed by S. Gosnell,<br> +Little Queen Street, Holborn.<br> +For Sherwood, Neely and Jones,<br> +Paternoster Row. 1813.<br> +(Price Three Shillings.)</blockquote> + +Successive Revises had run as follows:-- + +<ol type="i"> +<li>London: Printed for John Murray, Albemarle Street, +Piccadilly. By S. Gosnell, Little Queen Street. 1813.</li> + +<li>Cambridge: Printed by G. Maitland. For John Murray, etc.</li> + +<li>Cambridge: Printed by G. Maitland. For Sherwood, Neely and +Jones, Paternoster Row. 1813.</li> +</ol> + +For the Bibliography of <i>The Waltz</i>, see <b>vol. vi.</b> of +the present issue.<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section117c">Preface</a></h3> + +<br> +<b>To the Publisher.<br> +<br> +Sir,</b><br> +<br> +<a name="fr980">I</a> am a country Gentleman of a midland county. +I might have been a Parliament-man for a certain borough; having +had the offer of as many votes as General T. at the general +election in 1812<a href="#f980"><sup>1</sup></a>. But I was all +for domestic happiness; as, fifteen years ago, on a visit to +London, I married a middle-aged Maid of Honour. We lived happily +at Hornem Hall till last Season, when my wife and I were invited +by the Countess of Waltzaway (a distant relation of my Spouse) to +pass the winter in town. Thinking no harm, and our Girls being +come to a marriageable (or, as they call it, <i>marketable</i>) +age, and having besides a Chancery suit inveterately entailed +upon the family estate, we came up in our old chariot,--of which, +by the bye, my wife grew so ashamed in less than a week, that I +was obliged to buy a second-hand barouche, of which I might mount +the box, Mrs. H. says, if I could drive, but never see the +inside--that place being reserved for the Honourable Augustus +Tiptoe, her partner-general and Opera-knight. Hearing great +praises of Mrs. H.'s dancing (she was famous for birthnight +minuets in the latter end of the last century), I unbooted, and +went to a ball at the Countess's, expecting to see a country +dance, or, at most, Cotillons, reels, and all the old paces to +the newest tunes, <a name="fr981">But</a>, judge of my surprise, +on arriving, to see poor dear Mrs. Hornem with her arms half +round the loins of a huge hussar-looking gentleman I never set +eyes on before; and his, to say truth, rather more than half +round her waist, turning round, and round, to a d----d see-saw +up-and-down sort of tune, that reminded me of the "Black Joke," +only more "<i>affettuoso</i>"<a href="#f981"><sup>2</sup></a> +till it made me quite giddy with wondering they were not so. <a +name="fr982">By</a> and by they stopped a bit, and I thought they +would sit or fall down:--but no; with Mrs. H.'s hand on his +shoulder, "<i>Quam familiariter</i>"<a href= +"#f982"><sup>3</sup></a> (as Terence said, when I was at school,) +they walked about a minute, and then at it again, like two +cock-chafers spitted on the same bodkin. I asked what all this +meant, when, with a loud laugh, a child no older than our +Wilhelmina (a name I never heard but in the <i>Vicar of +Wakefield</i>, though her mother would call her after the +Princess of Swappenbach,) said, "L--d! Mr. Hornem, can't you see +they're valtzing?" or waltzing (I forget which); and then up she +got, and her mother and sister, and away they went, and +round-abouted it till supper-time. Now that I know what it is, I +like it of all things, and so does Mrs. H. (though I have broken +my shins, and four times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid, in +practising the preliminary steps in a morning). <a name= +"fr983">Indeed</a>, so much do I like it, that having a turn for +rhyme, tastily displayed in some election ballads, and songs in +honour of all the victories (but till lately I have had little +practice in that way), I sat down, and with the aid of William +Fitzgerald, Esq., and a few hints from Dr. Busby, (whose +recitations I attend, and am monstrous fond of Master Busby's +manner of delivering his father's late successful "Drury Lane +Address,")<a href="#f983"><sup>4</sup></a> I composed the +following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentiments known to the +Public; whom, nevertheless, I heartily despise, as well as the +critics.<br> +<br> +I am, Sir, yours, etc., etc.<br> +<br> +<b>Horace Hornem.</b><br> +<br> + + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f980"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +1:</span></a> Ý State of the poll (last day) 5.<br> +<br> + [General Tarleton (1754-1833) contested Liverpool in October, +1812. For three days the poll stood at five, and on the last day, +eleven. Canning and Gascoigne were the successful +candidates.]<br> +<a href="#fr980">return to footnote mark</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f981"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +2:</span></a> Ý More expressive.--[<i>MS</i>.]<br> +<a href="#fr981">return</a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f982"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +3:</span></a> Ý My Latin is all forgotten, if a man can be said +to have forgotten what he never remembered; but I bought my +title-page motto of a Catholic priest for a three-shilling bank +token, after much haggling for the even sixpence. I grudged the +money to a papist, being all for the memory of Perceval and "No +popery," and quite regretting the downfall of the pope, because +we can't burn him any more.--[Revise No. 2.]<br> +<a href="#fr982">return</a><br> +<a href="#fr1024">cross-reference: return to Footnote 17 of +<i>The Waltz</i></a><br> +<br> +<br> +<a name="f983"><span style="color: #FF0000;">Footnote +4:</span></a> Ý See <i>Rejected Addresses</i>.<br> +<a href="#fr983">return</a><br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + + +<h3><a name="section117d">The Waltz</a></h3> + +<br> +<b>an Apostrophic Hymn.<br> +<br> +by Horace Hornem, Esq.</b><br> +<br> +<br> +<blockquote>"Qualis in Eurotæ ripis, aut per juga +Cynthi,<br> + Exercet <b>Diana</b> choros."<br> +<br> + <b>Virgil</b>, <i>Æn</i>. i. 502.<br> +<br> +<br> + "Such on Eurotas's banks, or Cynthus's height,<br> + Diana seems: and so she charms the sight,<br> + When in the dance the graceful goddess leads<br> + The quire of nymphs, and overtops their heads."<br> +<br> + <b>Dryden's</b> <i>Virgil</i>.</blockquote> + +<br> +<br> + + +<hr width="50%" align="left"> +<br> + + +<table summary="The Waltz" border="0" cellspacing="5" +cellpadding="10"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td>Muse of the many-twinkling feet<a href= +"#f984"><sup>1</sup></a>! whose charms<br> +<a name="fr984">Are</a> now extended up from legs to arms;<br> +Terpsichore!--too long misdeemed a maid--<br> +Reproachful term--bestowed but to upbraid--<br> +Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine<a href= +"#f985"><sup>a</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr985">The</a> least a Vestal of the Virgin Nine.<br> +Far be from thee and thine the name of Prude:<br> +Mocked yet triumphant; sneered at, unsubdued;<br> +Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly,<br> +If but thy coats are reasonably high!<br> +Thy breast--if bare enough--requires no shield;<br> +Dance forth--<i>sans armour</i> thou shalt take the field<br> +And own--impregnable to <i>most</i> assaults,<br> +Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz."<br> + Hail, nimble Nymph! to whom the young hussar<a href= +"#f986"><sup>2</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr986">The</a> whiskered votary of Waltz and War,<br> +His night devotes, despite of spur and boots;<br> +A sight unmatched since Orpheus and his brutes:<br> +Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz!--beneath whose banners<br> +A modern hero fought for modish manners;<br> +On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's<a href= +"#f987"><sup>3</sup></a> fame,<br> +<a name="fr987">Cocked</a>, fired, and missed his man--but gained +his aim;<br> +Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast<br> +Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest.<br> +Oh! for the flow of Busby<a href="#f988"><sup>4</sup></a>, or of +Fitz,<br> +<a name="fr988">The</a> latter's loyalty, the former's wits,<br> +<a name="fr989">To</a> "energise the object I pursue,"<br> +And give both Belial and his Dance their due<a href= +"#f989"><sup>b</sup></a>!<br> + Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine<br> +(Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine),<br> +Long be thine import from all duty free,<br> +And Hock itself be less esteemed than thee;<br> +In some few qualities alike--for Hock<br> +Improves our cellar--<i>thou</i> our living stock.<br> +The head to Hock belongs--thy subtler art<br> +Intoxicates alone the heedless heart:<br> +Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,<br> +And wakes to Wantonness the willing limbs.<br> + Oh, Germany! how much to thee we owe,<br> +As heaven-born Pitt can testify below,<br> +Ere cursed Confederation made thee France's,<br> +And only left us thy d--d debts and dances<a href= +"#f990"><sup>5</sup></a>!<br> +<a name="fr990">Of</a> subsidies and Hanover bereft,<br> +We bless thee still--George the Third is left!<br> +Of kings the best--and last, not least in worth,<br> +For graciously begetting George the Fourth.<br> +To Germany, and Highnesses serene,<br> +Who owe us millions--don't we owe the Queen?<br> +To Germany, what owe we not besides?<br> +So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides;<br> +Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,<br> +Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud:<br> +Who sent us--so be pardoned all her faults--<br> +A dozen dukes, some kings, a Queen--and Waltz.<br> + But peace to her--her Emperor and Diet,<br> +Though now transferred to Buonapartè's "fiat!"<br> +Back to my theme--O muse of Motion! say,<br> +How first to Albion found thy Waltz her way?<br> + Borne on the breath of Hyperborean gales,<br> +From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had <i>mails</i>),<br> +Ere yet unlucky Fame--compelled to creep<br> +To snowy Gottenburg-was chilled to sleep;<br> +<a name="fr991">Or</a>, starting from her slumbers, deigned +arise,<br> +Heligoland! to stock thy mart with lies<a href= +"#f991"><sup>c</sup></a>;<br> +While unburnt Moscow<a href="#f992"><sup>6</sup></a> yet had news +to send,<br> +<a name="fr992">Nor</a> owed her fiery Exit to a friend,<br> +She came--Waltz came--and with her certain sets<br> +Of true despatches, and as true Gazettes;<br> +Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest despatch<a href= +"#f993"><sup>7</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr993">Which</a> <i>Moniteur</i> nor <i>Morning Post</i> +can match<br> +And--almost crushed beneath the glorious news--<br> +Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's<a href= +"#f994"><sup>8</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr994">One</a> envoy's letters, six composer's airs,<br> +<a name="fr995">And</a> loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic +fairs:<br> +Meiners' four volumes upon Womankind<a href= +"#f995"><sup>9</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr996">Like</a> Lapland witches to ensure a wind;<br> +<a name="fr997">Brunck's</a> heaviest tome for ballast,<a href= +"#f996"><sup>10</sup></a> and, to back it,<br> +<a name="fr998">Of</a> Heynè,<a href= +"#f997"><sup>11</sup></a> such as should not sink the packet<a +href="#f998"><sup>d</sup></a>.<br> + Fraught with this cargo--and her fairest freight,<br> +Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a Mate,<br> +The welcome vessel reached the genial strand,<br> +And round her flocked the daughters of the land.<br> +Not decent David, when, before the ark,<br> +His grand <i>Pas-seul</i> excited some remark;<br> +Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought<br> +The knight's <i>Fandango</i> friskier than it ought;<br> +Not soft Herodias, when, with winning tread,<br> +Her nimble feet danced off another's head;<br> +Not Cleopatra on her Galley's Deck,<br> +Displayed so much of <i>leg</i> or more of <i>neck</i>,<br> +Than Thou, ambrosial Waltz, when first the Moon<br> +Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune!<br> + <br> + To You, ye husbands of ten years! whose brows<br> +Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse;<br> +To you of nine years less, who only bear<br> +The budding sprouts of those that you <i>shall</i> wear,<br> +With added ornaments around them rolled<br> +Of native brass, or law-awarded gold;<br> +To You, ye Matrons, ever on the watch<br> +To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match;<br> +To You, ye children of--whom chance accords--<br> +<i>Always</i> the Ladies, and <i>sometimes</i> their Lords;<br> +To You, ye single gentlemen, who seek<br> +Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;<br> +As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide,<br> +To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;--<br> +To one and all the lovely Stranger came,<br> +And every Ball-room echoes with her name.<br> + Endearing Waltz!--to thy more melting tune<br> +Bow Irish Jig, and ancient Rigadoon.<a href= +"#f999"><sup>12</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr999">Scotch</a> reels, avaunt! and Country-dance +forego<br> +Your future claims to each fantastic toe!<br> +Waltz--Waltz alone--both legs and arms demands,<br> +Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;<br> +Hands which may freely range in public sight<br> +Where ne'er before--but--pray "put out the light."<br> +Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier<br> +Shines much too far--or I am much too near;<br> +And true, though strange--Waltz whispers this remark,<br> +"My slippery steps are safest in the dark!"<br> +But here the Muse with due decorum halts,<br> +And lends her longest petticoat to "Waltz."<br> + Observant Travellers of every time!<br> +Ye Quartos published upon every clime!<br> +0 say, shall dull <i>Romaika's</i> heavy round,<br> +<i>Fandango's</i> wriggle, or <i>Bolero's</i> bound;<br> +Can Egypt's <i>Almas</i><a href= +"#f1000"><sup>13</sup></a>--tantalising group--<br> +<a name="fr1000">Columbia's</a> caperers to the warlike +Whoop--<br> +Can aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn<br> +With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be born?<br> +Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's,<a href= +"#f1001"><sup>14</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1001">Each</a> tourist pens a paragraph for +"Waltz."<br> + Shades of those Belles whose reign began of yore,<br> +With George the Third's--and ended long before!--<br> +Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive<a href= +"#f1002"><sup>e</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr1002">Burst</a> from your lead, and be yourselves +alive!<br> +<a name="fr1003">Back</a> to the Ball-room speed your spectred +host,<br> +Fool's Paradise is dull to that you lost<a href= +"#f1003"><sup>f</sup></a>.<br> +<a name="fr1004">No</a> treacherous powder bids Conjecture +quake;<br> +No stiff-starched stays make meddling fingers ache<a href= +"#f1004"><sup>g</sup></a>;<br> +(Transferred to those ambiguous things that ape<br> +Goats in their visage,<a href="#f1005"><sup>15</sup></a> women in +their shape;)<br> +<a name="fr1005">No</a> damsel faints when rather closely +pressed,<br> +But more caressing seems when most caressed;<br> +Superfluous Hartshorn, and reviving Salts,<br> +Both banished by the sovereign cordial "Waltz."<br> + Seductive Waltz!--though on thy native shore<br> +Even Werter's self proclaimed thee half a whore;<br> +Werter--to decent vice though much inclined,<br> +Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind--<br> +Though gentle Genlis,<a href="#f1006"><sup>16</sup></a> in her +strife with Staël,<br> +<a name="fr1006">Would</a> even proscribe thee from a Paris +ball;<br> +The fashion hails--from Countesses to Queens,<br> +And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes;<br> +Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads,<br> +And turns--if nothing else--at least our <i>heads</i>;<br> +With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce,<br> +And cockney's practise what they can't pronounce.<br> +Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts,<br> +And Rhyme finds partner Rhyme in praise of "Waltz!"<br> +Blest was the time Waltz chose for her <i>début</i>!<br> +The Court, the Regent, like herself were new;<a href= +"#f1007"><sup>17</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1007">New</a> face for friends, for foes some new +rewards;<br> +New ornaments for black-and royal Guards<a href= +"#f1008"><sup>h</sup></a>;<br> +<a name="fr1008">New</a> laws to hang the rogues that roared for +bread;<br> +New coins (most new)<a href="#f1009"><sup>18</sup></a> to follow +those that fled;<br> +<a name="fr1009">New</a> victories--nor can we prize them +less,<br> +Though Jenky<a href="#f1010"><sup>19</sup></a> wonders at his own +success;<br> +<a name="fr1010">New</a> wars, because the old succeed so +well,<br> +That most survivors envy those who fell;<br> +New mistresses--no, old--and yet 'tis true,<br> +Though they be <i>old</i>, the <i>thing</i> is something new;<br> +Each new, quite new--(except some ancient tricks),<a href= +"#f1011"><sup>20</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1011">New</a> +white-sticks--gold-sticks--broom-sticks--<i>all new +sticks</i>!<br> +With vests or ribands--decked alike in hue,<br> +New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue:<br> +So saith the Muse: my----,<a href="#f1012"><sup>21</sup></a> what +say you?<br> +<a name="fr1012">Such</a> was the time when Waltz might best +maintain<br> +Her new preferments in this novel reign;<br> +Such was the time, nor ever yet was such;<br> +Hoops are <i>more</i>, and petticoats <i>not much</i>;<br> +Morals and Minuets, Virtue and her stays,<br> +And tell-tale powder--all have had their days.<br> +The Ball begins--the honours of the house<br> +First duly done by daughter or by spouse,<br> +Some Potentate--or royal or serene--<br> +With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Gloster's mien<a href= +"#f1013"><sup>j</sup></a>,<br> +<a name="fr1013">Leads</a> forth the ready dame, whose rising +flush<br> +Might once have been mistaken for a blush.<br> +From where the garb just leaves the bosom free,<br> +That spot where hearts<a href="#f1014"><sup>22</sup></a> were +once supposed to be;<br> +<a name="fr1014">Round</a> all the confines of the yielded +waist,<br> +The strangest hand may wander undisplaced:<br> +The lady's in return may grasp as much<br> +As princely paunches offer to her touch.<br> +Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip<br> +One hand reposing on the royal hip!<a href= +"#f1015"><sup>23</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1015">The</a> other to the shoulder no less royal<br> +Ascending with affection truly loyal!<br> +Thus front to front the partners move or stand,<br> +The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand;<br> +And all in turn may follow in their rank,<br> +<a name="fr1016">The</a> Earl of--Asterisk--and Lady--Blank;<br> +Sir--Such-a-one--with those of fashion's host,<a href= +"#f1016"><sup>24</sup></a> <a href="#f1017"><sup>k</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1017">For</a> whose blest surnames--vide "Morning +Post."<br> +(Or if for that impartial print too late,<br> +Search Doctors' Commons six months from my date)--<br> +Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow,<br> +The genial contact gently undergo;<br> +<a name="fr1018">Till</a> some might marvel, with the modest +Turk,<br> +If "nothing follows all this palming work?"<a href= +"#f1018"><sup>25</sup></a><br> +True, honest Mirza!--you may trust my rhyme--<br> +Something does follow at a fitter time;<br> +The breast thus publicly resigned to man,<br> +In private may resist him--if it can.<br> + <a name="fr1019">O</a> ye who loved our Grandmothers of +yore,<br> +Fitzpatrick,<a href="#f1019"><sup>26</sup></a> Sheridan, and many +more!<br> +And thou, my Prince! whose sovereign taste and will<a href= +"#f1020"><sup>m</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1020">It</a> is to love the lovely beldames still!<br> +Thou Ghost of Queensberry!<a href="#f1021"><sup>27</sup></a> +whose judging Sprite<br> +<a name="fr1021">Satan</a> may spare to peep a single night,<br> +Pronounce--if ever in your days of bliss<br> +Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this;<br> +To teach the young ideas how to rise,<br> +Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes;<br> +Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame,<br> +With half-told wish, and ill-dissembled flame,<br> +For prurient Nature still will storm the breast--<br> +<i>Who</i>, tempted thus, can answer for the rest?<br> + But ye--who never felt a single thought<br> +For what our Morals are to be, or ought;<br> +Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,<br> +Say--would you make those beauties quite so cheap?<br> +Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,<br> +Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side,<br> +Where were the rapture then to clasp the form<br> +From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm<a href= +"#f1022"><sup>n</sup></a>?<br> +<a name="fr1022">At</a> once Love's most endearing thought +resign,<br> +To press the hand so pressed by none but thine;<br> +To gaze upon that eye which never met<br> +Another's ardent look without regret;<br> +Approach the lip which all, without restraint,<br> +Come near enough--if not to touch--to taint;<br> +If such thou lovest--love her then no more,<br> +Or give--like her--caresses to a score;<br> +Her Mind with these is gone, and with it go<br> +The little left behind it to bestow.<br> + Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme?<br> +Thy bard forgot thy praises were his theme.<br> +Terpsichore forgive!--at every Ball<br> +My wife <i>now</i> waltzes--and my daughters <i>shall</i>;<br> +<i>My</i> son--(or stop--'tis needless to inquire--<br> +These little accidents should ne'er transpire;<br> +Some ages hence our genealogic tree<a href= +"#f1023"><sup>p</sup></a><br> +<a name="fr1023">Will</a> wear as green a bough for him as +me)--<br> +Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends<br> +Grandsons for me--in heirs to all his friends.</td> +<td><br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +10<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +20<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +30<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +40<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +50<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +60<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +70<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +80<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +90<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +100<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +110<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +120<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +130<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +140<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +150<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +160<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +170<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +180<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +<br> +<br> +190<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +200<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +210<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> + <br> +220<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +230<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +240<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +250<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<br> +</td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<table summary="The Waltz footnotes" border="1" cellspacing="5" +cellpadding="10" bgcolor="#FFFFCC"> +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f984"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 1:</span></a> Ý "Glance their +many-twinkling feet."--<b>Gray</b>.<br> + <a href="#fr984">return to footnote mark</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f985"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote a:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Henceforth with due unblushing brightness +shine...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr985">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f986"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 2:</span></a> Ý Lines 15-28 do not +appear in the MS., but ten lines (omitting lines 21-24) were +inserted in Proof No. 1.<br> +<a href="#fr986">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f989"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote b:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And weave a couplet worthy them and +you...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Proof</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr989">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f987"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 3:</span></a> Ý To rival Lord +Wellesley's, or his nephew's, as the reader pleases:--the one +gained a pretty woman, whom he deserved, by fighting for; and the +other has been fighting in the Peninsula many a long day, "by +Shrewsbury clock," without gaining anything in <i>that</i> +country but the title of "the Great Lord," and "the Lord;" which +savours of profanation, having been hitherto applied only to that +Being to whom "<i>Te Deums</i>" for carnage are the rankest +blasphemy.--It is to be presumed the general will one day return +to his Sabine farm: there + +<blockquote>"To tame the genius of the stubborn plain,<br> + <i>Almost as quickly</i> as he conquer'd Spain!"</blockquote> + +The Lord Peterborough conquered continents in a summer; we do +more--we contrive both to conquer and lose them in a shorter +season. If the "great Lord's" <i>Cincinnatian</i> progress in +agriculture be no speedier than the proportional average of time +in Pope's couplet, it will, according to the farmer's proverb, be +"ploughing with dogs."<br> +<br> +By the bye--one of this illustrious person's new titles is +forgotten--it is, however, worth remembering--"<i>Salvador del +mundo!" credite, posteri</i>! If this be the appellation annexed +by the inhabitants of the Peninsula to the name of a <i>man</i> +who has not yet saved them--query--are they worth saving, even in +this world? for, according to the mildest modifications of any +Christian creed, those three words make the odds much against +them in the next--"Saviour of the world," quotha!--it were to be +wished that he, or any one else, could save a corner of it--his +country. Yet this stupid misnomer, although it shows the near +connection between superstition and impiety, so far has its use, +that it proves there can be little to dread from those Catholics +(inquisitorial Catholics too) who can confer such an appellation +on a <i>Protestant</i>. I suppose next year he will be entitled +the "Virgin Mary;" if so, Lord George Gordon himself would have +nothing to object to such liberal bastards of our Lady of +Babylon.<br> +<br> +[William Pole-Wellesley (1785?-1857), afterwards fourth Lord +Mornington, a nephew of the great Duke of Wellington, married, in +March, 1812, Catharine, daughter and heiress of Sir Tylney Long, +Bart. On his marriage he added his wife's double surname to his +own, and, thereby, gave the wits their chance. In <i>Rejected +Addresses</i> Fitzgerald is made to exclaim-- + +<blockquote>"Bless every man possess'd of aught to give,<br> + Long may Long-Tilney-Wellesley-Long-Pole live."</blockquote> + +The principals in the duel to which Byron alludes were +Wellesley-Pole and Lord Kilworth. The occasion of the quarrel was +a misconception of some expression of Pole's at an assembly at +Lady Hawarden's (August 6, 1811). A meeting took place on +Wimbledon Common (August 9), at which the seconds intervened, and +everything was "amicably adjusted." Some days later a letter +appeared in the <i>Morning Post</i> (August 14, 1811), signed +"Kilworth," to the effect that an apology had been offered and +accepted. This led to a second meeting on Hounslow Heath (August +15), when shots were exchanged. Again the seconds intervened, +and, after more explanations, matters were finally arranged. A +<i>jeu d'esprit</i> which appeared in the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i> (August 16, 1811) connects the "mortal fracas" with +Pole's prowess in waltzing at a fête at Wanstead House, +near Hackney, where, when the heiress had been wooed and won, his +guests used to dine at midnight after the opera. + +<blockquote>"Mid the tumult of waltzing and wild Irish reels,<br> + A prime dancer, I'm sure to get at her--<br> + And by Love's graceful movements to trip up her heels,<br> + Is the Long and the short of the matter."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr987">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f991"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote c:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>To make Heligoland the mart for +lies...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr991">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f988"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 4:</span></a> Ý Thomas Busby, Mus. +Doc. (1755-1838), musical composer, and author of <i>A New and +Complete Musical Dictionary</i>, 1801, etc. He was also a +versifier. As early as 1785 he published <i>The Age of Genius, A +Satire</i>; and, after he had ceased to compose music for the +stage, brought out a translation of Lucretius, which had long +been in MS. His "rejected address" on the reopening of Drury Lane +Theatre, would have been recited by his son (October 15), but the +gallery refused to hear it out. On the next night (October 16) +"Master" Busby was more successful. Byron's parody of Busby's +address, which began with the line, "When energising objects men +pursue," is headed, "Parenthetical Address. By Dr. Plagiary."<br> +<a href="#fr988">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f998"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote d:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>As much of Heyne as should not sink the +packet...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr998">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f990"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 5:</span></a> ÝThe Confederation of +the Rhine (1803-1813), by which the courts of Würtemberg and +Bavaria, together with some lesser principalities, detached +themselves from the Germanic Body, and accepted the immediate +protection of France.<br> +<a href="#fr990">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1002"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote e:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Who in your daughters' daughters yet survive<br> + Like Banquo's spirit be yourselves alive....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1002">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f992"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 6:</span></a> Ý<a name="frabc">The</a> +patriotic arson of our amiable allies cannot be sufficiently +commended--nor subscribed for. Amongst other details omitted in +the various<a href="#fabc"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a> despatches of our +eloquent ambassador, he did not state (being too much occupied +with the exploits of Colonel C----, in swimming rivers frozen, +and galloping over roads impassable,) that one entire province +perished by famine in the most melancholy manner, as follows:--In +General Rostopchin's consummate conflagration, the consumption of +tallow and train oil was so great, that the market was inadequate +to the demand: and thus one hundred and thirty-three thousand +persons were starved to death, by being reduced to wholesome +diet! the lamp-lighters of London have since subscribed a pint +(of oil) a piece, and the tallow-chandlers have unanimously voted +a quantity of best moulds (four to the pound), to the relief of +the surviving Scythians;--the scarcity will soon, by such +exertions, and a proper attention to the <i>quality</i> rather +than the quantity of provision, be totally alleviated. It is +said, in return, that the untouched Ukraine has subscribed sixty +thousand beeves for a day's meal to our suffering +manufacturers.<br> +<br> +[Hamburg fell to Napoleon's forces in 1810, and thence-forward +the mails from the north of Europe were despatched from Anholt, +or Gothenberg, or Heligoland. In 1811 an attempt to enforce the +conscription resulted in the emigration of numbers of young men +of suitable age for military service. The unfortunate city was +deprived of mails and males at the same time. Heligoland, which +was taken by the British in 1807, and turned into a depot for the +importation of smuggled goods to French territory, afforded a +meeting-place for British and continental traders. Mails from +Heligoland detailed rumours of what was taking place at the +centres of war; but the newspapers occasionally threw doubts on +the information obtained from this source. Lord Cathcart's +despatch, dated November 23, appeared in the <i>Gazette</i> +December 16, 1812. The paragraph which appealed to Byron's sense +of humour is as follows: + +<blockquote>"The expedition of Colonel Chernichef (<i>sic</i>) +[the Czar's aide-de-camp] was a continued and extraordinary +exertion, he having marched seven hundred wersts (<i>sic</i>) in +five days, and swam several rivers."</blockquote> + +<a name="fabc"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a>Veracious despatches.--[<i>MS. M</i>.]<br> +<a href="#frabc">return to main footnote</a><br> +<a href="#fr992">return to poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1003"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote f:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Elysium's ill exchanged for that you +lost...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1003">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f993"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 7:</span></a> ÝAusterlitz was fought +on Dec. 2, 1805. On Dec. 20 the <i>Morning Chronicle</i> +published a communication from a correspondent, giving the +substance of Napoleon's "Proclamation to the Army," issued on the +evening after the battle, which had reached Bourrienne, the +French minister at Hamburg. "An army," ran the proclamation, "of +100,000 men, which was commanded by the Emperors of Russia and +Austria, has been in less than four hours either cut off or +dispersed." It was an official note of this "blest despatch," +forwarded by courier to Bath, which brought "the heavy news" to +Pitt, and, it is believed, hastened his death.<br> +<a href="#fr993">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1004"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote g:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>No stiff-starched stays make meddling lovers +ache...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1004">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f994"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 8:</span></a> ÝAugust Frederick +Ferdinand von Kotzebue (1761-1819), whom Coleridge appraised as +"the German Beaumont and Fletcher without their poetic powers," +and Carlyle as "a bundle of dyed rags," wrote over a hundred +plays, publishing twenty within a few years.<br> +<br> +An adaptation of <i>Misanthropy and Repentance</i> as <i>The +Stranger</i>, Sheridan's <i>Pizarro</i>, and Lewis' <i>Castle +Spectre</i> are well-known instances of his powerful influence on +English dramatists. + +<blockquote>"The Present," writes Sara Coleridge, in a note to +one of her father's letters, "will ever have her special votaries +in the world of letters, who collect into their focus, by a kind +of burning-glass, the feelings of the day. Amongst such Kotzebue +holds a high rank. Those 'dyed rags' of his once formed gorgeous +banners, and flaunted in the eyes of refined companies from +London to Madrid, from Paris to Moscow."</blockquote> + +--Coleridge's <i>Biographia Literaria</i> (1847), ii. 227.<br> +<a href="#fr994">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1008"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote h:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>New caps and Jackets for the royal +Guards...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1008">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f995"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 9:</span></a> ÝA translation of +Christopher Meiner's <i>History of the Female Sex</i>, in four +volumes, was published in London in 1808. Lapland wizards, not +witches, were said to raise storms by knotting pieces of string, +which they exposed to the wind.<br> +<a href="#fr995">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1013"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote j:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>With K--t's gay grace, or silly-Billy's +mien...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>] + +<blockquote><i>With K--t's gay grace, or G--r's booby +mien...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. erased.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1013">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f996"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 10:</span></a> Ý Richard Franz +Philippe Brunck (1729-1803). His editions of the <i>Anthologia +Græca</i>, and of the Greek dramatists are among his best +known works. Compare Sheridan's doggerel-- + +<blockquote>"Huge leaves of that great commentator, old +Brunck,<br> + Perhaps is the paper that lined my poor +<i>Trunk</i>."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr996">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1017"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote k:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Sir--Such a one--with Mrs.--Miss +So-so...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>Revise</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1017">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f997"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 11:</span></a> Ý Christian Gottlob +Heyne (1729-1812) published editions of <i>Virgil</i> +(1767-1775), <i>Pindar</i> (1773), and <i>Opuscula Academica</i>, +in six vols. (1785-1812).<br> +<a href="#fr997">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1020"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote m:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>And thou my Prince whose undisputed +will...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1020">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f999"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 12:</span></a> ÝA lively dance for one +couple, characterized by a peculiar jumping step. It probably +originated in Provence.<br> +<a href="#fr999">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1022"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote n:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>From this abominable contact +warm...</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. M.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1022">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1000"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 13:</span></a> Ý Dancing girls--who do +for hire what Waltz doth gratis.<br> + <br> + [The Romaika is a modern Greek dance, characterized by +serpentining figures and handkerchief-throwing among the dancers. +The Fandango (Spaniards use the word "seguidilla") was of Moorish +origin. The Bolero was brought from Provence, circ. 1780. + +<blockquote>"The Bolero intoxicates, the Fandango +inflames"</blockquote> + +(<i>Hist. of Dancing</i>, by G. Vuillier-Heinemann, 1898).]<br> +<a href="#fr1000">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1023"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote p:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote><i>Some generations hence our Pedigree Will never +look the worse for him or me....</i></blockquote> + +[<i>MS. Erased.</i>]<br> +<a href="#fr1023">return</a></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1001"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 14:</span></a> Ý For Morier, see note +to line 211. Galt has a paragraph descriptive of the waltzing +Dervishes (<i>Voyages and Travels</i> (1812), p.190).<br> +<a href="#fr1001">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1005"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 15:</span></a> Ý <a name= +"frbcd">It</a> cannot be complained now, as in the Lady +Baussière's time, of the "Sieur de la Croix," that there +be "no whiskers;" but how far these are indications of valour in +the field, or elsewhere, may still be questionable. Much may be, +and hath been<a href="#fbcd"><span style= +"color: #663300;"><sup>A</sup></span></a>; avouched on both +sides. In the olden time philosophers had whiskers, and soldiers +none--Scipio himself was shaven--Hannibal thought his one eye +handsome enough without a beard; but Adrian, the emperor, wore a +beard (having warts on his chin, which neither the Empress Sabina +nor even the courtiers could abide)--Turenne had whiskers, +Marlborough none--Buonaparte is unwhiskered, the Regent +whiskered; "<i>argal</i>" greatness of mind and whiskers may or +may not go together; but certainly the different occurrences, +since the growth of the last mentioned, go further in behalf of +whiskers than the anathema of Anselm did <i>against</i> long hair +in the reign of Henry I.--Formerly, <i>red</i> was a favourite +colour. See Lodowick Barrey's comedy of <i>Ram Alley</i>, 1661; +Act I. Scene I. + +<blockquote><i>Taffeta</i>. Now for a wager--What coloured beard +comes next by the window?<br> +<br> +<i>Adriana</i>. A black man's, I think.<br> +<br> +<i>Taffeta</i>. I think not so: I think a <i>red</i>, for that is +most in fashion."</blockquote> + +There is "nothing new under the sun:" but <i>red</i>, then a +<i>favourite</i>, has now subsided into a favourite's colour.<br> +<br> +[This is, doubtless, an allusion to Lord Yarmouth, whose fiery +whiskers gained him the nickname of "Red Herrings."]<br> +<br> + <a name="fbcd"><span style="color: #663300;">Sub-Footnote +A:</span> nbsp;</a> The paragraph "Much may be" down to "reign of +Henry I." was added in Revise 1, and the remainder of the note in +Revise 2.<br> +<a href="#frbcd">return to main footnote</a><br> +<a href="#fr1005">return to poem</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1006"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 16:</span></a> Ý Madame Genlis +(Stephanie Félicité Ducrest, Marquise de Sillery), +commenting on the waltz, writes, + +<blockquote>"As a foreigner, I shall not take the liberty to +censure this kind of dance; but this I can say, that it appears +intolerable to German writers of superior merits who are not +accused of severity of manners,"</blockquote> + +and by way of example instances M. Jacobi, who affirms that +"Werther (<i>Sorrows of Werther</i>, Letter ix.), the lover of +Charlotte, swears that, were he to perish for it, never should a +girl for whom he entertained any affection, and on whom he had +honourable views, dance the waltz with any other man besides +himself."--<i>Selections from the Works of Madame de Genlis</i> +(1806), p. 65.<br> +<br> +Compare, too, "Faulkland" on country-dances in <i>The Rivals</i>, +act ii. sc. I, + +<blockquote>"Country-dances! jigs and reels!... A minuet I could +have forgiven.... Zounds! had she made one in a cotillon--I +believe I could have forgiven even that--but to be monkey-led for +a night! to run the gauntlet through a string of amorous palming +puppies... Oh, Jack, there never can be but one man in the world +whom a truly modest and delicate woman ought to pair with in a +country-dance; and even then, the rest of the couples should be +her great-uncles and aunts!"</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr1006">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1007"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 17:</span></a> Ý An anachronism--Waltz +and the battle of Austerlitz are before said to have opened the +ball together; the bard means (if he means anything), Waltz was +not so much in vogue till the Regent attained the acme of his +popularity. Waltz, the comet, whiskers, and the new government, +illuminated heaven and earth, in all their glory, much about the +same time: of these the comet only has disappeared; the other +three continue to astonish us still.--<i>Printers Devil</i>.<br> +<br> +[As the <i>Printer's Devil</i> intimates, the various novelties +of the age of "Waltz" are somewhat loosely enumerated. The Comet, +which signalized 1811, the year of the restricted Regency, had +disappeared before the Prince and his satellites burst into full +blaze in 1812. It was (see <i>Historical Record of the Life +Guards</i>, 1835, p.177) in 1812 that the Prince Regent commanded +the following alterations to be made in the equipments of the +regiment of Life Guards: + +<blockquote>"Cocked hats with feathers to be discontinued, and +brass helmets with black horsehair crests substituted. Long +coats, trimmed with gold lace across the front. Shirts and cuffs +to be replaced by short coatees," etc., etc.</blockquote> + +In the same branch of the service, whiskers were already in +vogue. The "new laws" were those embodied in the "Frame-work +Bill," which Byron denounced in his speech in the House of Lords, +Feb. 27, 1812. Formerly the breaking of frames had been treated +"as a minor felony, punishable by transportation for fourteen +years," and the object of the bill was to make such offences +capital. The bill passed into law on March 5, and as a result we +read (<i>Annual Register</i>, 1812, pp.38,39) that on May 24 a +special commission for the rioters of Cheshire was opened by +Judge Dallas at Chester. + +<blockquote>"His lordship passed the awful sentence of death upon +sixteen, and in a most impressioned address, held out not the +smallest hope of mercy."</blockquote> + +Of these five <i>only</i> were hanged.<br> +<br> +<a name="fr1024">Owing</a> to the scarcity of silver coinage, the +Bank of England was empowered to issue bank-tokens for various +sums (Mr. Hornem bought his motto for <i>The Waltz</i> with a +three-shilling bank-token; see <a href="#f982"><i>note</i></a> to +Preface) which came into circulation on July 9, 1811. The "new +ninepences" which were said to be forthcoming never passed into +circulation at all. A single "pattern" coin (on the obverse, +<i>Bank Token, Ninepence, 1812</i>) is preserved in the British +Museum (see privately printed <i>Catalogue</i>, by W. Boyne +(1866), p.11). The "new victories" were the fall of Ciudad +Rodrigo (Jan. 17), the capture of Badajoz (April 7), and the +Battle of Salamanca (July 12, 1812). By way of "new wars," the +President of the United States declared war with Great Britain on +June 18, and Great Britain with the United States, Oct. 13, 1812. +As to "new mistresses," for a reference to "<i>Our</i> Sultan's" +"she-promotions" of "those only plump and sage, Who've reached +the regulation age," see <i>Intercepted Letters, or the Twopenny +Post-bag</i>, by Thomas Brown the Younger, 1813, and for "gold +sticks," etc., see "Promotions" in the <i>Annual Register</i> for +March, 1812, in which a long list of Household appointments is +duly recorded.]<br> +<a href="#fr1007">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1009"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 18:</span></a> Ý Amongst others a new +ninepence--a creditable coin now forthcoming, worth a pound, in +paper, at the fairest calculation.<br> +<a href="#fr1009">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1010"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 19:</span></a> ÝRobert Banks +Jenkinson, second Earl of Liverpool, was Secretary at War and for +the Colonies from 1809 to 1812, in Spencer Perceval's +administration, and, on the assassination of the premier, +undertook the government. Both as Secretary at War and as Prime +Minister his chief efforts were devoted to the support of +Wellington in the Peninsula.<br> +<a href="#fr1010">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1011"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 20:</span></a> Ý "Oh that <i>right</i> +should thus overcome <i>might</i>!" Who does not remember the +"delicate investigation" in the <i>Merry Wives of Windsor</i>?-- + +<blockquote><i>Ford</i>: Pray you, come near; if I suspect +without cause, why then make sport at me; then let me be your +jest; I deserve it. How now? whither bear you this?<br> +<br> + <i>Mrs. Ford</i>. What have you to do whither they bear it?--You +were best meddle with buck-washing."</blockquote> + +[Act iii. sc. 3.]<br> +<a href="#fr1011">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1012"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 21:</span></a> ÝThe gentle, or +ferocious, reader may fill up the blank as he pleases--there are +several dissyllabic names at <i>his</i> service (being already in +the Regent's): it would not be fair to back any peculiar initial +against the alphabet, as every month will add to the list now +entered for the sweep-stakes;--a distinguished consonant is said +to be the favourite, much against the wishes of the <i>knowing +ones</i>.--[<i>Revise</i>]<br> +<br> +[In the Revise the line, which is not in the MS., ran,"So saith +the Muse; my M---- what say you?" The name intended to be +supplied is "Moira."<br> +<br> +On Perceval's death (May 11 1812), Lord Liverpool became Prime +Minister, but was unable to carry on the government. Accordingly +the Prince Regent desired the Marquis Wellesley and Canning to +approach Lords Grey and Grenville with regard to the formation of +a coalition ministry. They were unsuccessful, and as a next step +Lord Moira (Francis Rawdon, first Marquis of Hastings, 1754-1826) +was empowered to make overtures in the same quarter. The Whig +Lords stipulated that the regulation of the Household should rest +with ministers, and to this Moira would not consent, possibly +because the Prince's favourite, Lord Yarmouth, was +Vice-Chamberlain. Negotiations were again broken off, and on June +9 Liverpool began his long term of office as Prime Minister. + +<blockquote>"I sate," writes Byron, "in the debate or rather +discussion in the House of Lords on that question (the second +negotiation) immediately behind Moira, who, while Grey was +speaking, turned round to me repeatedly, and asked me whether I +agreed with him. It was an awkward question to me, who had not +heard both sides. Moira kept repeating to me, 'It is <i>not</i> +so; it is so and so,'" etc.</blockquote> + +(Letter to W. Bankes (undated), <i>Life</i>, p. 162). Hence the +question, "My Moira, what say you?"]<br> +<a href="#fr1012">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1014"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 22:</span></a> Ý + +<blockquote>"We have changed all that," says the Mock +Doctor--'tis all gone--Asmodeus knows where. After all, it is of +no great importance how women's hearts are disposed of; they have +nature's privilege to distribute them as absurdly as possible. +But there are also some men with hearts so thoroughly bad, as to +remind us of those phenomena often mentioned in natural history; +viz. a mass of solid stone--only to be opened by force--and when +divided, you discover a <i>toad</i> in the centre, lively, and +with the reputation of being venomous."</blockquote> + +[In the MS. the last sentence stood: "In this country there is +<i>one man</i> with a heart so thoroughly bad that it reminds us +of those unaccountable petrifactions often mentioned in natural +history," etc. The couplet-- + +<blockquote>"Such things we know are neither rich nor rare,<br> + But wonder how the Devil they got there,"</blockquote> + +which was affixed to the note, was subsequently erased.]<br> +<a href="#fr1014">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1015"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 23:</span></a> Ý Compare Sheridan's +lines on waltzing, which Moore heard him "repeat in a +drawing-room"-- + +<blockquote>"With tranquil step, and timid downcast glance,<br> + Behold the well-pair'd couple now advance.<br> + In such sweet posture our first parents moved,<br> + While, hand in hand, through Eden's bower they roved.<br> + Ere yet the devil, with promise fine and false,<br> + Turned their poor heads, and taught them how to waltz.<br> + One hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip.<br> + ...<br> + For so the law's laid down by Baron Trip."</blockquote> + +<a href="#fr1015">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1016"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 24:</span></a> Ý Lines 204-207 are not +in the MS., but were added in a revise.<br> +<a href="#fr1016">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1018"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 25:</span></a> Ý In Turkey a +pertinent--here an impertinent and superfluous +question--literally put, as in the text, by a Persian to Morier, +on seeing a Waltz in Pera.<br> +<br> +[See <i>A Journey through Persia</i>, etc. By James Morier, +London (1812), p. 365.]<br> +<a href="#fr1018">return</a> </td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1019"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 26:</span></a> Ý Richard Fitzpatrick +(1747-1813), second son of John, first Earl of Ossory, served in +the first American War at the battles of Brandywine and +Germanstown. He sat as M.P. for Tavistock for thirty-three years. +The chosen friend and companion of Fox, he was a prominent member +of the opposition during the close of the eighteenth century. In +the ministry of "All the Talents" he was Secretary at War. He +dabbled in literature, was one of the authors of the +<i>Rolliad</i>, and in 1775 published <i>Dorinda: A Town +Eclogue</i>. He was noted for his social gifts, and in +recognition, it is said, of his "fine manners and polite +address," inherited a handsome annuity from the Duke of +Queensberry. Byron associates him with Sheridan as <i>un homme +galant</i> and leader of <i>ton</i> of the past generation.<br> +<a href="#fr1019">return</a></td> +<td width="50%"></td> +</tr> + +<tr align="left" valign="top"> +<td width="50%"><a name="f1021"><span style= +"color: #FF0000;">Footnote 27:</span></a> Ý William Douglas, +third Earl of March and fourth Duke of Queensberry (1724-1810), +otherwise "old Q.," was conspicuous as a "blood" and evil liver +from youth to extreme old age. He was a patron of the turf, a +connoisseur of Italian Opera, and <i>surtout</i> an inveterate +libertine. As a Whig, he held office in the Household during +North's Coalition Ministry, but throughout George the Third's +first illness in 1788, displayed such indecent partisanship with +the Prince of Wales, that, when the king recovered, he lost his +post. His dukedom died with him, and his immense fortune was +divided between the heirs to his other titles and his friends. +Lord Yarmouth, whose wife, Maria Fagniani, he believed to be his +natural daughter, was one of the principal legatees.<br> +<a href="#fr1021">return</a> </td> +<td></td> +</tr> +</table> + +<br> +<br> +<p><a href="#toc">Contents</a><br> +<a href="#fp4">Contents p.5</a></p> + +<hr> +<br> +<br> + <b><i>end of text</i></b><br> +<br> +<hr> +<br> + + </blockquote> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Byron's Poetical Works, Vol. 1, by Byron + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BYRON'S POETICAL WORKS, VOL. 1 *** + +***** This file should be named 8861-h.htm or 8861-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/8/6/8861/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Clytie Siddall and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will +be renamed. + +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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