Skip to main content

Full text of "The works of Lord Byron"

See other formats 


^Bmr 


m^. 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


Poetical  Works 


OF 


LORD     BYRON 


■j/Ait  vScfut^M-^A^J^- 


worn  yO.  ^um^.(z/4//r^^  ^'^7(/n'te.d',4//i'  -fSfSwi  iJfa,fnej  ^:/l^7n 


The  Works 


OP 


LORD    BYRON 


A  NEW,  REVISED  AND  ENLARGED  EDITION, 
WITH   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Poetry.     Vol.  I. 

EDITED   BY 

ERNEST  HARTLEY   COLERIDGE,  M.A., 


HON.  F.R.S.L. 

;  ..  •.  J 

^  r 

"    ,'  '    -       *      ^  !»'  .'.   »"  = 

.  »,  »  '     « 

' ,  >'  >  '>  >  '  >  > 
LONDON: 

.,:. 

JOHN 

MURRAY,   ALBEMARLE 

STREET, 

NEW 

YORK: 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS. 

1903. 

v-^f   e'i;-v 


•  -  •  ••' 


I  •  •  •  • 


^^.  5"  1 


PREFACE   TO   THE    POEMS. 


The  text  of  the  present  issue  of  Lord  Byron's  Poetical 
Works  is  based  on  that  of  T/ie  Works  of  Lord  Byron, 
in  six  volumes,  i2mo,  which  was  published  by  John 
Murray  in  183 1.  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  dis- 
posal, yielded  a  number  of  varies,  kctmies  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, 


VI  PREFACE   TO    THE    POEMS. 

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.  English  Bards ^  and  Scotch  Reviewers ; 
Childe  Harold,  Canto  IV. ;  Don  Jnan,  Cantos  VI.-XVI. ; 
Wei'ner ;  The  Deformed  Transformed;  Lara;  Parisina ; 
The  Prophecy  of  Dante ;  The  Vision  of  Judgment ;  The 
Age  of  Brofize;  The  Islafid.  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  T/ie  Liberal  (1822- 
23),  viz. :  Heaven  and  Earth,  The  Blues,  and  Morgante 
Maggioi'e. 

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  Gifibrd  is  mainly  responsible,  has  been  re- 
considered with  reference  solely  to  the  meaning  and 
interpretation  of  the  sentences  as  they  occur. 

In  the  Hours  of  Ldleness  and  Ot/ier  Early  Poems,  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.  Variants,  being  the  readings  of  one  or  more  MSS. 
or  of  successive  editions,  are  printed  in  italics  imme- 
diately below  the  text.  They  are  marked  by  Roman 
numerals.     Words  and  lines  through  which  the  author 


PREFACE    TO    THE    POEMS.  VU 

has  drawn  his  pen  in  the  MSS.  or  Revises  are  marked 
MS.  erased. 

Poems  and  plays  are  given,  so  far  as  possible,  in 
chronological  order.  Childe  Harold  and  Don  Juan, 
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.  Epigrams  2ind.  j'cux  d esprit  have 
been  placed  together,  in  chronological  order,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  seventh  volume.  A  Bibliography  of 
the  poems  will  immediately  precede  the  Index  at  the 
close  of  the  seventh  volume. 

The  edition  contains  at  least  thirty  hitherto  unpub- 
lished poems,  including  fourteen  stanzas  of  the  unfinished 
seventeenth  canto  of  Don  Juan,  and  a  considerable 
fragment  of  the  third  part  of  The  Deformed  Transformed. 
The  eleven  unpublished  poems  from  MSS.  preserved  at 
Newstead,  which  appear  in  the  first  volume,  are  of  slight 
if  any  hterary  value,  but  they  reflect  with  singular  clear- 
ness 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. 

Byron's  notes,  of  which  many  are  published  for  the 
first  time,  and  editorial  notes,  enclosed  in  brackets, 
are  printed  immediately  below  the  varice.  lectiones.  The 
editorial  notes  are  designed  solely  to  supply  the  reader 
with   references  to  passages  in    other  works  illustrative 


VIU  PREFACE   TO    THE    POEMS. 

of  the  text,  or  to  interpret  expressions  and  allusions 
which  lapse  of  time  may  have  rendered  obscure. 

Much  of  the  knowledge  requisite  for  this  purpose  is 
to  be  found  in  the  articles  of  the  Dictio7iary  of  National 
Biography^  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. 

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 


PREFACE    TO  THE    POEMS.  IX 

follow  the  tenour  of  his  verse,  will,  it  is  hoped,  find  some 
assistance  in  these  volumes. 

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. 

My  grateful  acknowledgments  are  due  to  Dr.  Garnett, 
C.B.,  Dr.  A.  S.  Murray,  Mr.  R.  E.  Graves,  and  other 
officials  of  the  British  Museum,  for  invaluable  assistance 
in  preparing  the  notes,  and  in  compiling  a  bibhography 
of  the  poems. 

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  Hints  fro?n 
Hoi'ace. 

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. 

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 


X  PREFACE  TO   THE   POEMS. 

generous  assistance  of  Mr.  and  Miss  Webb,  of  Newstead 
Abbey,  in  permitting  the  publication  of  MS.  poems,  and 
in  making  transcripts  for  the  press. 

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. 

ERNEST   HARTLEY  COLERIDGE. 


{Facsimile  of  title-page  of  second  private  volume,  succeeding  the  4to.) 

JPO  EMS 


ON 


VARIOUS    OCCASIONS. 


VillClNXlUS  FUERUQUE  CAKTO, 

Hor.  Lib.  3.  Ode  1. 


r7BWJlKK«  PRINTED  BY  S.  &  J»  RIDGE: 

MDCeCVit,      , 


THE  only  Apology  necessary 
to  be  adduced,  in  extenuation  of  any  errors 
in  the  foUomng  collection,  is,  that  the  Au« 
thor  has  not  yet  completed  his  nineteenth 
year. 

December  23,  i8o5. 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL   NOTE 

TO 

HOURS  OF  IDLENESS 
AND    OTHER    EARLY    POEMS. 

There  were  four  distinct  issues  of  Byron's  Juvenilia.  The 
first  collection,  entitled  Fugitive  Pieces,  was  printed  in  quarto 
by  S.  and  J.  Ridge  of  Newark.  Two  of  the  poems,  "  The 
Tear  "  and  the  "  Reply  to  Some  Verses  of  J.  M.  B.  Pigot, 
Esq.,"  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,  "  Imitated  from  Catullus.  To  Anna,"  is  dated 
November  i6,  1806.  The  whole  of  this  issue,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  two  or  three  copies,  was  destroyed.  An  imperfect 
copy,  lacking  pp.  17-20  and  pp.  58-66,  is  preserved  at  New- 
stead.  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  Life,  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  circu- 
lation only,  from  the  Chiswick  Press  in  1886. 

Of  the  thirty-eight  Fugitive  Pieces,  two  poems,  viz.  "  To 
Caroline"  and  "  To  Mary,"  together  with  the  last  six  stanzas 
of  the  Hnes,  "  To  Miss  E.  P.  [To  Eliza],"  have  never  been 
republished  in  any  edition  of  Byron's  Poetical  Works. 

A  second  edition,  small  octavo,  of  Fugitive  Pieces,  entitled 
Poems  on  Various  Occasiofis,  was  printed  by  S.  and  J.  Ridge 
of  Newark,  and  distributed  in  January,  1807.  This  volume 
was  issued  anonymously.  It  numbers  144  pages,  and  con- 
sists of  a  reproduction  of  thirty-six  Fugitive  Pieces,  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 


Xll     BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE  TO  HOURS  OF  IDLENESS,  ETC. 

undated  letters  of  the  same  period  to  Mr.  William  Bankes 
and  Mr.  Falkner  {Life,  pp.  41,  42).  The  annotated  copy 
of  Poems  on  Various  Occasions^  referred  to  in  the  present 
edition,  is  in  the  British  Museum. 

Early  in  the  summer  (June — July)  of  1807,  a  volume,  small 
octavo,  named  Hours  of  Idleness — a  title  henceforth  asso- 
ciated with  Byron's  early  poems — was  printed  and  pubhshed 
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,  Hours  of  Idleness;  a  Series  of  Poems 
Original  and  Translated.  By  George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron, 
a  Minor.  It  numbers  187  pages,  and  consists  of  thirty-nine 
poems.  Of  these,  nineteen  belonged  to  the  original  Fugitive 
Pieces,  eight  had  first  appeared  in  Poems  on  Various 
Occasions,  and  twelve  were  published  for  the  first  time.  The 
"  Fragment  of  a  Translation  from  the  9th  Book  of  Virgil's 
yEnead "  {sic),  numbering  sixteen  lines,  reappears  as  "  The 
Episode  of  Nisus  and  Eur}'alus,  A  Paraphrase  from  the 
^neid.  Lib.  9,"  numbering  406  lines. 

The  final  collection,  also  in  small  octavo,  bearing  the  title 
Poems  Original  and  Translated,  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  Hours  of  Idleness.  It  numbers  174  pages, 
and  consists  of  seventeen  of  the  original  Fugitive  Pieces, 
four  of  those  first  published  in  Poems  on  Various  Occasions, 
a  reprint  of  the  twelve  poems  first  published  in  Hours  of 
Idleness,  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. 

Of  the  thirty-eight  Fugitive  Pieces  which  constitute  the 
suppressed  quarto,  only  seventeen  appear  in  all  three  subse- 
quent issues.  Of  the  twelve  additions  to  Poems  on  Various 
Occasions,  four  were  excluded  from  Houi's  of  Idleness,  and 
four  more  from  Poems  Original  and  Translated. 

The  collection  of  minor  poems  entitled  Hours  of  Idlefiess, 
which  has  been  included  in  every  edition  of  Byron's  Poetical 
Works  issued  by  John  Murray  since  1831,  consists  of  seventy 
pieces,  being  the  aggregate  of  the  poems  published  in  the 
three  issues.  Poems  on  Various  Occasions,  Hours  of  Idleness, 
and  Poems  Original  and  Translated,  together  with  five 
other  poems  of  the  same  period  derived  from  other  sources. 

In  the  present  issue  a  general  heading,  "  Hours  of  Idle- 
ness, and  other  Early  Poems,"  has  been  applied  to  the  entire 
collection  of  Early   Poems,    1802- 1809.     The   quarto  has 


[Facsimile  of  first  published  impression.) 

HOURS  OF  IDLENESS, 

A 

SERIES  OF  POEMS, 

ORIGINAL 

AND 

TRANSLATED, 


Bv  GEORGE  GORDON,  LORD  BYRON, 

A    MINOR. 


Mut'  af>  ft*  |Ma3cA'  »mi  (/.vre  n  vtottt, 

H'oiifiii.  Iliad,  10* 

Yirgioibus  paerisqoe  Canto. 

Horace. 

He  whistled  as  he  went  for  want  of  thought. 


^tXoavU: 


Printed  and  sold  by  S.  and  J.  RiOGEt 

SOLD    ALSO    BY    B     CROSBY    AND   CO.    STATIONER'S    COfTRT  J 

LONOMAM,    BURST,    REE8,    AND  ORME,    PATLANOSTER* 

ROWJF.  AND  C.  aiVlNCTON,   ST.    PAUL'S  caURCH- 

YARD  J    AND  J.  MAVMAN,  IM  IBB  POCtlJ^Y, 

lOMDOR. 

1807, 


{Facsimile  of  title-page  of  second  published  impression.) 


POEMS 


ORIGIKAL  AND  TRANSLATED 


GEORGE  CORDON,  LORD  B\^ON, 


M?)t'  a^  yi.1  iMtX'  amt  t^iort  t<  vtucei. 

HoMBR.  Iliad,  10. 

He  whistled  as  he  went  for  want  of  thought. 

Drybes* 


SECOND  EDITION. 


Printed  and  sold  by  S.  and  J,  Ridge  ; 

SOLD   ALSO  BY   B.  CROSBY  AUD   CO,  STATIONER'S  COURT) 

LONGMAN,  HORST,  USES,  AND  ORME,  P ATBRNOSTBR* 

ROW}    F.  &  C.  RIVINGTON,  8T.   PAUL's  CHURCU-<. 

YABO;   AND   J.  MAWMAN,    IM   THB 

rODLTRY,  LONOON. 

1808. 


VOL.  I. 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE  TO  HOURS  OF  IDLENESS,  ETC.    Xlll 

been  reprinted  (excepting  the  lines  "  To  Mary,"  which 
Byron  himself  deliberately  suppressed)  in  its  entirety,  and 
in  the  original  order.  The  successive  additions  to  the 
Poems  on  Various  Occasums,  Hours  of  Idleness,  and  Poems 
Original  and  Translated,  follow  in  order  of  publication. 
The  remainder  of  the  series,  viz.  poems  first  published  in 
Moore's  Life  and  Jouriials  of  Lord  Byron  (1830)  ;  poems 
hitherto  unpublished  ;  poems  first  published  in  the  Works 
of  Lord  By r 071  (1832),  and  poems  contributed  to  J.  C. 
Hobhouse's  Imitatio7is  and  Translations  (1809),  have  been 
arranged  in  chronological  order.  (For  an  important  con- 
tribution 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  AthencEum,  1885,  vol.  ii.  pp.  731-733,  769;  and  1886, 
vol.  i.  p.  loi,  etc.  For  a  collation  of  the  contents  of  the 
four  first  issues  and  of  certain  large-paper  copies  of  Hours 
of  Idleness,  etc,  see  The  Bibliography  of  the  Poetical  Works 
of  Lord  Byron,  vol.  vii.of  the  present  edition.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE 

TO 

ENGLISH  BARDS,  AND   SCOTCH  REVIEWERS. 

The  MS.  {MS.  M.)  of  the  first  draft  of  Byron's  "Satire" 
(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  often  additional  lines. 
After  the  publication  of  the  January  number  of  The 
Edmburgh  Review  for  1808  (containing  the  critique  on 
Hours  of  Idletiess),  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 
520  lines,  was  printed  in  book  form  (probably  by  Ridge  of 
Newark),  under  the  title  of  British  Bards,  A  Satire.  "  This 
Poem,"  writes  Byron  [MSS.  M.\  "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."  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  English  Bards, 
p.  332,  line  439,  note  2),  have  been  torn  out,  and  quarto 
proof-sheets  in  smaller  type  of  lines  438-527,  "  Hail  to  im- 
mortal Jeffrey,"  etc.,  together  with  a  quarto  proof-sheet,  in 
the  same  type  as  British  Bards,  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  British  Bards.  The  insertion 
of  the  proofs  increased  the  printed  matter  to  584  lines.    After 


{Facsimile  of  title-page  of  first  edition.) 


7 


ENGLISH  BARDS 


\ND 


§>cotc!)  i^ebietDer0. 


A    SATIRE. 


1  had  rather  be  a  kitten,  and  cry,  meif  ! 
Than  one  of  these  same  metre  ballad-monger*. 

Sbak&pearb. 


Such  shameless  Bards  we  have  ;  and  yet  'tis  true. 
There  ve  as  mad,  abandon'd  Critics  too. 


Pops. 


LOTiDON: 


PWNTED  pon  JAMES  CAWTHORN.  British  Libhaky. 
No.  24,  CocKSPOR  Street. 


BIBLIOGRAPHICAL  NOTE  TO  ENGLISH  BARDS,  ETC,        XV 

the  completion  of  this  revised  version  of  British  Bards, 
additions  continued  to  be  made.  Marginal  corrections  and 
MS.  fragments,  bound  up  with  British  Bards,  together  with 
forty-four  lines  (lines  723-726,  819-S58)  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 
English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers.  The  folio  and 
quarto  sheets  in  Mr.  Murray's  possession  {MS.  M.)  may 
be  regarded  as  the  MS.  of  British  Bards ;  British  Bards 
(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  British  Bards),  with  its  accompanying  MS. 
fragments,  as  the  foundation  of  the  text  of  the  first  edition 
of  Ejiglish  Bards,  and  Scotch  Revietvers. 

Between  the  first  edition,  published  in  March,  and  the 
second  edition  in  October,  1809,  the  difference  is  even  greater 
than  between  British  Bards  and  the  first  edition.  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.  : 
(i.)  lines  1-96,  "  Still  must  I  hear,"  etc. ;  (ii.)  lines  129-142, 
"  Thus  saith  the  Preacher,"  etc.  ;  (iii.)  lines  363-417,  "  But  if 
some  new-born  whim,"  etc.  ;  (iv.)  lines  638-706,  "  Or  hail  at 
once,"  etc.  ;  (v.)  lines  765-798,  "  When  some  brisk  youth," 
etc.  ;  (vi.)  lines  859-880,  "  And  here  let  Shee,"  etc. ;  (vii.)  lines 
949-960,  "  Yet  what  avails,"  etc.  ;  (viii.)  lines  973-980, 
"There,  Clarke,"  etc. ;  (ix.)  lines  1011-1070,  "Then  hapless 
Britain,"  etc.  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  18 10.  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. 

The  third  edition,  which  is,  generally,  dated  18 10,  is  a 
replica  of  the  second  edition. 

The  first  issue  of  the  fourth  edition,  which  appeared  in 
1 8 10,  is  identical  with  the  second  and  third  editions.  A 
second  issue  of  the  fourth  edition,  dated  18 11,  must  have 
passed  under  Byron's  own  supervision.  Lines  759,  760  are 
added,  and  lines  761-764  are  materially  altered.  The  fourth 
edition  of  1811  numbers  1052  lines. 

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 


xvi      BIBLIOGRAPHICAL    NOTE   TO   ENGLISH  BARDS,   ETC. 

addition  of  lines  97-102  and  528-539,  and  by  more  than 
thirty  emendations  of  the  text.  Eighteen  of  these  emenda- 
tions 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." 

For  a  complete  collation  of  the  five  editions  of  English 
Bards^  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  and  textual  emendations  in 
the  two  annotated  volumes,  and  for  a  note  on  genuine  and 
spurious  copies  of  the  first  and  other  editions,  see  The 
Bibliography  of  the  Poetical  JVorks  of  Lord  Byroti,  vol.  vii. 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.    I. 


HOURS  OF  IDLENESS,  AND  OTHER 
EARLY  POEMS. 


Fugitive  Pieces. 

PAG2 

Preface  to  the  Poems v-x 

Bibliographical  Note  to  "  Hours  of  Idleness  and  Other  Early 

Poems" xi-xiii 

Bibliographical    Note    to    "English    Bards,    and    Scotch 

Reviewers  " xiv-xvi 

On  Leaving  Newstead  Abbey i 

To  E 4 

On  the  Death  of  a  Young  Lady,  Cousin  to  tlie  Author,  and 

very  dear  to  Him 5 

ToD 7 

To  Caroline 8 

To  Caroline 9 

To  Emma 12 

Fragments    of    School    Exercises :    From    the    "  Prometheus 

Vinctus "  of  ^schylus 14 

Lines  written  in  "Letters  of  an  Italian  Nun  and  an  English 

Gentleman,  by  J.  J.  Rousseau  :  Founded  on  Facts"      .     ,  15 

Answer  to  the  Foregoing,  Addressed  to  Miss .     .     .     .  15 

On  a  Change  of  Masters  at  a  Great  Public  School 16 

Epitaph  on  a  Beloved  Friend 18 

Adrian's  Address  to  his  Soul  when  Dying 20 

A  Fragment 21 

To  Caroline 21 

To  Caroline 23 


xviil  CONTENTS   OF   VOL.    I. 

PACK 

On  a  Distant  View  of  the  Village  and  School  of  Harrow  on  the 

Hill,  1806 25 

Thoughts  Suggested  by  a  College  Examination 28 

To  Mary,  on  Receiving  Her  Picture 32 

On  the  Death  of  Mr.  Fox 34 

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 36 

To  a  Beautiful  Quaker 38 

To  Lesbia ! 41 

To  Woman 43 

An  Occasional  Prologue,  Delivered  by  the  Author  Previous  to 
the  Performance  of  "The  Wheel  of  Fortune"  at  a  Private 

Theatre 45 

To  Eliza 47 

The  Tear 49 

Reply  to  some  Verses  of  J.  ^L  B.  Pigot,  Esq.,  on  the  Cruelty 

of  his  Mistress 53 

v'Granta.     A  Medley 56 

To  the  Sighing  Strephon 63 

-'The  Cornelian 66 

To  M 68 

Lines  Addressed  to  a  Young  Lady.  [As  the  Author  was  dis- 
charging 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] 70 

Translation  from  Catullus.     Ad  Lesbiani 72 

Translation  of  the  Epitaph  on  Virgil  and  Tibullus,  by  Domitius 

Marsus 73 

Imitation  of  Tibullus.     Stdpicia  ad  Cerinthum 74 

Translation  from  Catullus,     Lugete  Veneres  Ciipidinesqne    .     .  74 

Imitated  from  Catullus,     To  Ellen 75 


Poems  on  Various  Occasions. 

To  M.  S.  G 76 

Stanzas  to  a  Lady,  with  the  Poems  of  Camoens 78 

To  M,  S,  G 79 

Translation  from  Horace,     Justinn  et  tenacem,  etc 81 

The  First  Kiss  of  Love     "  82 

j  Childish  Recollections      .  84 


CONTENTS    OF   VOL.    I.  XIX 

I'AGE 

Answer  to  a  Beautiful  Poem,  Written  by  Montgomery,  Author 
of  "The  Wanderer  in  Switzerland,"  etc.,  entitled  "The 

Common  Lot  " 107 

Love's  Last  Adieu 109 

Lines  Addressed   to  the  Rev.  J.  T.  Becher,   on  his  advising 

the  Author  to  mix  more  with  Society 112 

Answer  to  some  Elegant  Verses  sent  by  a  Friend  to  the 
Author,  complaining   that   one   of  his   descriptions   was 

rather  too  warmly  drawn 1 14 

Elegy  on  Newstead  Abbey 116 

Hours  of  Idleness. 

To  George,  Earl  Delawarr 126 

Damoetas 128 

To  Marion 129 

Oscar  of  Alva 131 

Translation  from  Anacreon.    Ode  i 147 

From  Anacreon.     Ode  3 ,     .  149 

The  Episode  of  Nisus  and  Euryalus.     A  Paraphrase  from  the 

Aineid,  Lib.  9 151 

Translation  from  the  Medea  of  Euripides  [LI.  627-660]  .     .     .  168 

Lachin  y  Gair 171 

To  Romance 1 74 

The  Death  of  Calmar  and  Orla 177 

To  Edward  Noel  Long,  Esq 184 

To  a  Lady 189 


Poems  Original  and  Translated. 

When  I  Roved  a  Young  Highlander 191 

To  the  Duke  of  Dorset 194 

To  the  Earl  of  Clare 200 

I  would  I  were  a  Careless  Child 205 

Lines  Written  beneath  an  Elm  in  the  Churchyard  of  Harrow  .  208 


Early  Poems  from  Various  Sources. 

Fragment,  Written  Shortly  after  the  Marriage  of  Miss  Cha- 
worth.  First  published  in  Moore's  Letters  and  Journals 
of  Lord  Byron,  1830,  i,  56 210 

Remembrance.    First  published  in  Works  of  Lord  Byron,  I'i^)'^, 

vii.  152 211 


XX  CONTENTS   OF  VOL.   I. 

PAGE 

To  a  Lady  Who  Presented  the  Author  with  the  Velvet  Band 

which  bound  her  Tresses.      lVor/;s,  18^2,  \n.  i^i    .     .     .  212 

To  a  Knot  of  Ungenerous  Critics.     MS.  A^ewstead    .     .     .     .  213 

Soliloquy  of  a  Bard  in  the  Country.     MS.  Newstead     .     .     .  217 

L'Amitie  est  L' Amour  sans  Ailes.      IVorks,  1832,  vii.  161  .     .  220 

The  Prayer  of  Nature.     Letters  and  yournals,  1830,1.  106      .  224 

Translation  from  Anacreon.     Ode  5.     MS.  Newstead    .     .     .  228 

[Ossian's  Address  to  the  Sun  in  "  Carthon."]     MS.  Newstead  229 

[Pignus  Amoris.]     MS.  Newstead 231 

[A  Woman's  Hair.]     Works,  1832,  vii.  151 233 

Stanzas  to  Jessy.     Monthly  Literary  Recreations^  July,  1807    .  234 

The  Adieu.      Works,  1832,  vii.  195 237 

To .     MS.  Newstead 242 

On  the  Eyes  of  Miss  A H .     MS.  N'ewstead     .     .     .  244 

To  a  Vain  Lady.      Works,  1832,  vii.  199 244 

To  Anne.      Works,  1832,  vii.  201 246 

Egotism.     A  Letter  to  J.  T.  Becher.     MS.  Newstead   .     .     .  247 

To  Anne.      Works,  1832,  vii.  202 251 

To  the  Author  of  a  Sonnet  Beginning,  "  '  Sad  is  my  verse,'  you 

say,  'and  yet  no  tear.'"     Works,  1832,  vii.  202      .     .     .  252 

On  Finding  a  Fan.      Works,  1832,  203 253 

Farewell  to  the  Muse.      Works,  1832,  vii.  203 254 

To  an  Oak  at  Newstead.      Works,  1832,  vii.  206       ....  256 

On  Revisiting  Harrow.     Letters  and  Journals,  i.  102    .     .     ,  259 

To  my  Son.     Letters  and  Journals,  i.  104 260 

Queries  to  Casuists.     MS.  Newstead 262 

Song.     Breeze  of  the  Night.     MS.  Murray 262 

To  Harriet.     MS.  Newstead 263 

There  was  a  Time,  I  need  not  name.     Lmitations  and  Trans- 
lations, 1809,  p.  200 264 

And  wilt  Thou  weep  when  I  am  low  ?   Imitations  and  Tratis- 

lations,  1809,  p.  202 266 

Remind  me  not.  Remind  me  not.    Imitations  and  Translations, 

1809,  p.  197 268 

To  a  Youthful  Friend.     Imitatiofis  and  Translations,  1809, 

p.  185 .271 

Lines  Inscribed  upon  a  Cup  Formed  from  a  Skull.     First 
published,  Childe  Harold,  Cantos  i.,  ii.  (Seventh  Edition), 

1814 276 

Well !  Thou  art  Happy.     Imitations  and  Translations,  1809, 

p.  192 277 

Inscription  on  the  Monument  of  a  Newfoundland  Dog.    Imita- 

iions  and  Translations^  12,0%  ^.  i<^o 280 


CONTENTS   OF    VOL.    I.  XXI 

PAGE 

To  a  Lady,  On  Being  asked  my  reason  for  quitting  England 

in  the  Spring.    Imitations  and  Translations,  1809,  p.  195  282 

Fill  the  Goblet  Again.  A  Song.  Imitations  and  Transla- 
tions, 1809,  p.  204 283 

Staiuas   to  a  Lady,  on   Leaving   England.      Imitations  and 

Translations,  1809,  p.  227 285 

English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers 289 

Hints  from  Horace 385 

The  Curse  of  Minerva 451 

The  Waltz 475 


LIST  OF    ILLUSTRATIONS. 


1.  Portrait    of    Lord     Byron,     from    a 

Miniature,  painted  in  1815  by  James 
Holmes,  in  the  Possession  of  the 
Earl  of  Lovelace    ...  ...  .v.        Frontispiece 

2.  Facsimile  of  Title-page  of  Poems  on 

Various  Occasions  ...  ...    To  face  p.       x 

3.  Facsimile  of  Title-page  of  Hours  of 

Idleness  ...  ...  ...  ...      ,,       ,,       xii 

4.  Facsimile     of    Title-page    of    Poems 

Original  and  Translated         ...      ,,       ,,       xii 

5.  Facsimile  of  Title-page  of  the  First 

Edition    of   English    Bards,  and 

Scotch  Revieivers  ...  ...     ,,       ,,      xiv 

6.  Miss  Chaworth,  from  a  Miniature  in 

the    Possession    of   Mrs.    Chaworth 

Musters,  of  Wiverton         ...  ...      ,,        ,,      276 

7.  "Theseus"    from    the  East  Pediment 

OF    THE    Parthenon,     now    in     the 

British  Museum       ...  ...  ...      ,,        „      456 


HOURS    OF    IDLENESS 

AND  OTHER  EARLY  POEMS. 

ON  LEAVING  NEWSTEAD  ABBEY.'- 


Why  dost  thou  build  the  hall,  Son  of  the  winged  days  ?  Thou 
lookest  from  thy  tower  to-day  :  yet  a  few  years,  and  the  blast  of  the 
desart  comes  :  it  howls  in  thy  empty  court. — OssiAN.^ 


I. 

Through  thy  battlements,  Newstead,^  the  hollow  winds 
whistle :  "• 
Thou,  the  hall  of  my  Fathers,  art  gone  to  decay ; 
In  thy  once  smiling  garden,  the  hemlock  and  thistle 
Have  choak'd  up  the  rose,  which  late  bloom'd  in  the 
way. 

i.   On  Leaving  N .  .  .  ST .  .  .  Z>.— [4to] 

On  Leaving  Newstead. — \P.  on  V.  Occasions.'] 
ii.    Through  the  cracks  in  these  battlements  loud  the  ivinds  whistle 
For  the  hall  of  viy  fathers  is  go7ie  to  decay  ; 
And  in  yon  once  gay  garde?i  the  hemlock  and  thistle 

Have  choak'd  up  the  rose,  which  late  bloo?n'd  i?i  the  ivay. — [4to] 

1.  [The  motto  was  prefixed  in  Hours  of  Ldleiiess.'] 

2.  [The  priory  of  Newstead,  or  de  Novo  Loco,  in 
Sherwood,  was  founded  about  the  year  1 170,  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.] 

VOL.  I.  B 


2  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 

2. 

Of  the  mail-cover'd  Barons,  who,  proudly,  to  battle,*- 
Led  their  vassals  from  Europe  to  Palestine's  plain,^ 

The  escutcheon  and  shield,  which  with  ev'ry  blast  rattle, 
Are  the  only  sad  vestiges  now  that  remain. 

3. 

No  more  doth  old  Robert,  with  harp-stringing  numbers, 
Raise  a  flame,  in  the  breast,  for  the  war-laurell'd  wreath ; 

Near  Askalon's  towers,  John  of  Horistan  ^  slumbers, 
Unnerv'd  is  the  hand  of  his  minstrel,  by  death. 

4. 

Paul  and  Hubert  too  sleep  in  the  valley  of  Cressy; 

For  the  safety  of  Edward  and  England  they  fell : 
My  Fathers  !  the  tears  of  your  country  redress  ye  : 

How  you  fought !  how  you  died  !  still  her  annals  can  tell. 

5. 

On  Marston,^  with  Rupert,'*  'gainst  traitors  contending. 
Four  brothers  enrich'd,  with  their  blood,  the  bleak  field ; 

i.   Of  the  barons  of  old,  who  once  proudly  to  battle. — [4to] 

1.  [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- 
Avork  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.] 

2.  Horistan  Castle,  in  Derbyshire,  an  ancient  seat  of  the 
B— R— N  family  [4to].     [Horiston.— 4to.] 

3.  The  battle  of  Marston  Moor,  where  the  adherents  of 
Charles  I.  were  defeated. 

4.  Son  of  the  Elector  Palatine,  and  related  to  Charles  I. 
He  afterwards  commanded  the  Fleet,  in  the  reign  of 
Charles  II. 


ON   LEAVING   NEWSTEAD   ABBEY.  3 

For  the  rights  of  a  monarch  their  country  defending,*- 
Till  death  their  attachment  to  royalty  seal'd.^ 

6. 

Shades  of  heroes,  farewell !  your  descendant  departing 
From  the  seat  of  his  ancestors,  bids  you  adieu !  "• 

Abroad,  or  at  home,  your  remembrance  imparting 
New  courage,  he'll  think  upon  glory  and  you. 

7. 

Though  a  tear  dim  his  eye  at  this  sad  separation,"^ 
'Tis  nature,  not  fear,  that  excites  his  regret ;  '""• 

Far  distant  he  goes,  with  the  same  emulation. 
The  fame  of  his  Fathers  he  ne'er  can  forget.''- 

i.  For  Charles  the  Martyr  their  country  defending. — 

[4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
ii.  Bids  ye  adieu  ! — [410] 
iii.    Tho2igh  a  tear  dims. — [4to] 
iv.  '  Tis  natnrCf  fiotfear,  which  commands  his  regret. — [4to] 

V.  Ift  the  grave  he  alone  can  his  fathers  forget. — [4to] 

I.  [Sir  Nicholas  Byron,  the  great-grandson  of  Sir  John 
Byron  the  Little,  distinguished  himself  in  the  Civil  Wars. 
He  is  described  by  Clarendon  {Hist,  of  the  Rebellion,  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.  (i 599-1652),  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 


4  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

8. 

That  fame,  and  that  memory,  still  will  he  cherish  ;*• 
He  vows  that  he  ne'er  will  disgrace  your  renown : 

Like  you  will  he  live,  or  like  you  will  he  perish ; 

When  decay' d,  may  he  mingle  his  dust- with  your  own  1 

1803. 


TO  E- 


Let  Folly  smile,  to  view  the  names 
Of  thee  and  me,  in  Friendship  twin'd ; 

Yet  Virtue  will  have  greater  claims 
To  love,  than  rank  with  vice  combin'd. 

And  though  unequal  is  thy  fate, 
Since  title  deck'd  my  higher  birth ; 

Yet  envy  not  this  gaudy  state, 

Thine  is  the  pride  of  modest  worth. 

Our  souls  at  least  congenial  meet. 
Nor  can  thy  lot  my  rank  disgrace ; 

Our  intercourse  is  not  less  sweet, 

Since  worth  of  rank  supplies  the  place. 

November y  1802. 

i.    Yourfamey  and  your  memory ^  still  will  he  cherish. — f4to] 

the  Civil  Wars,  suffered  much  for  their  loyalty,  and  lost  all 
their  present  fortunes."  (See  Life  of  Lord  Byron j  by  Karl 
Elze  :  Appendix,  Note  (A),  p.  436.)] 

I.  [E was,  according  to  Moore,  a  boy  of  Byron's  own 

age,  the  son  of  one  of  the  tenants  at  Newstead.J 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  A  YOUNG  LADY,^ 

COUSIN  TO  THE  AUTHOR,  AND  VERY  DEAR 

TO  HIM. 


Hush'd  are  the  winds,  and  still  the  evening  gloom, 
Not  e'en  a  zephyr  wanders  through  the  grove, 

Whilst  I  return  to  view  my  Margaret's  tomb, 
And  scatter  flowers  on  the  dust  I  love. 


I.  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] 

["  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." — Byron  Diary ^  1821  ;  Life,^.  17.] 

[Margaret  Parker  was  the  sister  of  Sir  Peter  Parker,  whose 
death  at  Baltimore,  in  1814,  Byron  celebrated  in  the  "  Elegiac 
Stanzas,"  which  were  first  published  in  the  poems  attached 
to  the  seventh  edition  of  Childe  HaroldJ] 


HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 
2. 

Within  this  narrow  cell  reclines  her  clay, 

That  clay,  where  once  such  animation  beam'd ', 

The  King  of  Terrors  seiz'd  her  as  his  prey ; 
Not  worth,  nor  beauty,  have  her  Ufe  redeem'd. 

3. 

Oh  !  could  that  King  of  Terrors  pity  feel, 
Or  Heaven  reverse  the  dread  decree  of  fate, 

Not  here  the  mourner  would  his  grief  reveal. 
Not  here  the  Muse  her  virtues  would  relate. 

4. 
But  wherefore  weep  ?     Her  matchless  spirit  soars 

Beyond  where  splendid  shines  the  orb  of  day ; 
And  weeping  angels  lead  her  to  those  bowers, 

Where  endless  pleasures  virtuous  deeds  repay. 

5. 

And  shall  presumptuous  mortals  Heaven  arraign ! 

And,  madly,  Godlike  Providence  accuse  ! 
Ah  !  no,  far  fly  from  me  attempts  so  vain ; — 

I'll  ne'er  submission  to  my  God  refuse. 

6. 

Yet  is  remembrance  of  those  virtues  dear, 
Yet  fresh  the  memory  of  that  beauteous  face ; 

Still  they  call  forth  my  warm  affection's  tear. 
Still  in  my  heart  retain  their  wonted  place.^ 

1802. 
i,  Suc/i  sorrow  brings  me  honour y  7iot  disgrace. — [410] 


TO   D- 


TO   D ' 

I. 

In  thee,  I  fondly  hop'd  to  clasp 
A  friend,  whom  death  alone  could  sever ; 

Till  envy,  with  malignant  grasp,'* 

Detach'd  thee  from  my  breast  for  ever. 

2. 

True,  she  has  forc'd  thee  from  my  l^rcasfy 
Yet,  in  my  /icarfj  thou  keep'st  thy  seat ;  "• 

There,  there,  thine  image  still  must  rest, 
Until  that  heart  shall  cease  to  beat. 

3. 

And,  when  the  grave  restores  her  dead, 

When  life  again  to  dust  is  given. 
On  f/iy  dear  breast  I'll  lay  my  head — 

Without  ^/lee  1  where  would  be  my  Heaven  1 

February  y  1803. 

i.  But  envy  tcifh  malignant  grasp^ 

Has  torn  thee  from  my  breast  for  ever. — [410] 
ii.  But  in  my  heart. — [410] 

I.  [George  John,  5th  Earl  Dclawarr  (1791-1869).  (See 
note  2,  p.  100 ;  see  also  lines  "  To  George,  Earl  Delawarr," 
pp.  126-128.)] 


HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


TO   CAROLINE; 


I. 


Think'st  thou  I  saw  thy  beauteous  eyes, 
SufFus'd  in  tears,  implore  to  stay ; 

And  heard  unmoved  thy  plenteous  sighs, 
Which  said  far  more  than  words  can  say  ?  "* 


Though  keen  the  grief  thy  tears  exprest,"*- 
When  love  and  hope  lay  both  o'erthrown ; 

Yet  still,  my  girl,  this  bleeding  breast 

Throbb'd,  with  deep  sorrow,  as  thiiie  ozvn. 

3. 
But,  when  our  cheeks  with  anguish  glow'd, 

When  thy  sweet  lips  were  join'd  to  mine; 
The  tears  that  from  my  eyelids  flow'd 

Were  lost  in  those  which  fell  from  thine. 

4- 

Thou  could'st  not  feel  my  burning  cheek. 
Thy  gushing  tears  had  quench'd  its  flame, 

And,  as  thy  tongue  essay'd  to  speak. 
In  sighs  alo7ie  it  breath'd  my  name. 

i.  To .— [4to] 

ii.  than  xvords  could  say. — [4to] 

iii.    Though  deep  the  grief , — [4I0] 


TO   CAROLINE. 

And  yet,  my  girl,  we  weep  in  vain, 
In  vain  our  fate  in  sighs  deplore ; 

Remembrance  only  can  remain, 

But  that^  will  make  us  weep  the  more. 

6. 

Again,  thou  best  belov'd,  adieu  ! 

Ah  !  if  thou  canst,  o'ercome  regret, 
Nor  let  thy  mind  past  joys  review, 

Our  only  hope  is,  io  forget  I 


180: 


TO   CAROLINE.* 

I. 

You  say  you  love,  and  yet  your  eye 
No  symptom  of  that  love  conveys, 

You  say  you  love,  yet  know  not  why. 
Your  cheek  no  sign  of  love  betrays. 

2. 

Ah !  did  that  breast  with  ardour  glow, 
With  me  alone  it  joy  could  know, 
Or  feel  with  me  the  listless  woe, 

Which  racks  my  heart  when  far  from  thee. 

I.  [These  lines,  which  appear  in  the  Quarto,  were  never 
republished.] 


lO  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

3- 

Whene'er  we  meet  my  blushes  rise, 
And  mantle  through  my  purpled  cheek, 

But  yet  no  blush  to  mine  replies, 

Nor  e'en  your  eyes  your  love  bespeak. 

4. 

Your  voice  alone  declares  your  flame. 
And  though  so  sweet  it  breathes  my  name, 
Our  passions  still  are  not  the  same  j 
Alas  !  you  cannot  love  like  me. 

5. 
For  e'en  your  lip  seems  steep'd  in  snow, 

And  though  so  oft  it  meets  my  kiss, 
It  burns  with  no  responsive  glow. 

Nor  melts  like  mine  in  dewy  bliss. 

6. 

Ah  !  what  are  words  to  love  like  mine^ 
Though  uttered  by  a  voice  like  thine, 
1  still  in  murmurs  must  repine, 
And  think  that  love  can  ne'er  be  trtiCy 

7. 

AVhich  meets  me  with  no  joyous  sign, 
Without  a  sigh  which  bids  adieu ; 

How  different  is  my  love  from  thine, 
How  keen  my  grief  when  leaving  you. 


TO   CAROLINE.  II 

8. 

Your  image  fills  my  anxious  breast, 
Till  day  declines  adown  the  West, 
And  when  at  night,  I  sink  to  rest, 
In  dreams  your  fancied  form  I  view. 

9- 

'Tis  then  your  breast,  no  longer  cold. 

With  equal  ardour  seems  to  burn, 
While  close  your  arms  around  me  fold, 

Your  lips  my  kiss  with  warmth  return. 

10. 

Ah  1  would  these  joyous  moments  last ; 
Vain  Hope  !  the  gay  delusion  's  past, 
That  voice  !— ah  !  no,  'tis  but  the  blast, 

Which  echoes  through  the  neighbouring  grove. 

IT. 

But  when  awake,  your  lips  I  seek. 

And  clasp  enraptur'd  all  your  charms, 

So  chill's  the  pressure  of  your  cheek, 
I  fold  a  statue  in  my  arms. 

12. 

If  thus,  when  to  my  heart  embrac'd, 
No  pleasure  in  your  eyes  is  trac'd, 
You  may  be  prudent,  fair,  and  chaste^ 
But  ah  !  my  girl,  you  do  not  love. 


12  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


TO    EMMA,' 


I. 

Since  now  the  hour  is  come  at  last, 

When  you  must  quit  your  anxious  lover ; 

Since  now,  our  dream  of  bliss  is  past, 
One  pang,  my  girl,  and  all  is  over. 

2. 

Alas  !  that  pang  will  be  severe, 

Which  bids  us  part  to  meet  no  more  • 

Which  tears  me  far  from  one  so  dear, 
Departing  for  a  distant  shore. 

3. 

Well !  we  have  pass'd  some  happy  hours, 
And  joy  will  mingle  with  our  tears  ; 

When  thinking  on  these  ancient  towers, 
The  shelter  of  our  infant  years ; 

4. 

Where  from  this  Gothic  casement's  height, 
We  view'd  the  lake,  the  park,  the  dell, 

And  still,  though  tears  obstruct  our  sight. 
We  lingering  look  a  last  farewell, 

i.   To  Maria .— [4to] 


TO   EMMA.  13 

O'er  fields  through  which  we  us'd  to  run, 
And  spend  the  hours  in  childish  play ; 

O'er  shades  where,  when  our  race  was  done. 
Reposing  on  my  breast  you  lay ; 

6. 

Whilst  I,  admiring,  too  remiss, 

Forgot  to  scare  the  hovering  flies, 
Yet  envied  every  fly  the  kiss, 

It  dar'd  to  give  your  slumbering  eyes  : 

7. 

See  still  the  little  painted  bark^ 

In  which  I  row'd  you  o'er  the  lake ; 

See  there,  high  waving  o'er  the  park. 
The  elm  I  clamber'd  for  your  sake. 

8. 

These  times  are  past,  our  joys  are  gone, 
You  leave  me,  leave  this  happy  vale  ; 

These  scenes,  I  must  retrace  alone ; 
Without  thee,  what  will  they  avail  ? 

9. 

Who  can  conceive,  who  has  not  prov'd, 

The  anguish  of  a  last  embrace  ? 
When,  torn  from  all  you  fondly  lov'd, 

You  bid  a  long  adieu  to  peace. 


14  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

10. 

This  is  the  deepest  of  our  woes, 

For  this  these  tears  our  cheeks  bedew ; 

This  is  of  love  the  final  close, 

Oh,  God  !  the  fondest,  last  adieu  ! 

1805. 


FRAGMENTS   OF   SCHOOL   EXERCISES  : 

FROM   THE   "PROMETHEUS    VINCTUS"   OF 

^SCHYLUS. 

MrjSa/t'  b  ttavra  ve/xuu,  k.t.X.^ 

Great  Jove  !  to  whose  Almighty  Throne 

Both  Gods  and  mortals  homage  pay, 
Ne'er  may  my  soul  thy  power  disown. 

Thy  dread  behests  ne'er  disobey. 
Oft  shall  the  sacred  victim  fall, 
In  sea-girt  Ocean's  mossy  hall ; 
My  voice  shall  raise  no  impious  strain, 
'Gainst  him  who  rules  the  sky  and  azure  main. 
•  •  •  •  • 

How  different  now  thy  joyless  fate, 

Since  first  Hesione  thy  bride, 
When  plac'd  aloft  in  godlike  state, 

The  blushing  beauty  by  thy  side, 

I.  [The  Greek  heading  does  not  appear  in  the  Quarto,  nor 
in  the  three  first  Editions.] 


ANSWER   TO    ROUSSEAU.  1 5 

Thou  sat'st,  while  reverend  Ocean  smil'd, 
And  mirthful  strains  the  hours  beguil'd ; 
The  Nymphs  and  Tritons  danc'd  around, 
Nor  yet  thy  doom  was  fix'd,  nor  Jove  relentless  frown'd.^ 

Harrow,  December  i,  1804. 
LINES 

WRITTEN  IN  "  LETTERS  OF  AN  ITALIAN  NUN  AND  AN 
ENGLISH  GENTLEMAN,  BY  J.  J.  ROUSSEAU:^  FOUNDED 
ON    FACTS." 

"  Away,  away, — your  flattering  arts 
May  now  betray  some  simpler  hearts ; 
And  yotL  will  S7nile  at  their  believing, 
And  they  shall  weep  at  your  deceiving." 

ANSWER   TO  THE    FOREGOING,''   ADDRESSED  TO  MISS  . 

Dear  simple  girl,  those  flattering  arts, 

(From  which  thou'dst  guard  frail  female  hearts,)  "• 

i.  Answer  to  the  above. — [4to] 
ii.  From  ivhich  yo2c^d. — [4to] 

1.  ["  My  first  Harrow  verses  (that  is,  English,  as  exercises), 
a  translation  of  a  chorus  from  the  Provieiheus  of  ^^schylus, 
were  received  by  Dr.  Dniry,  my  grand  patron  (our  head- 
master), but  coolly.  No  one  had,  at  that  time,  the  least 
notion  that  I  should  subside  into  poetry." — Life^  p.  20.  The 
lines  are  not  a  translation  but  a  loose  adaptation  or  para- 
phrase of  part  of  a  chorus  of  the  Protnetheus  Vi?ictus,  1.  528,  sg.^ 

2.  [A  second  edition  of  this  work,  of  which  the  title  is, 
Letters,  etc.,  translated  from  the  French  of  Jean  Jacques 
Rotisseau,  was  published  in  London,  in  1784.  It  is,  pro- 
bably, a  literar)'  forgery.] 


1 6  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 

Exist  but  in  imagination, 

Mere  phantoms  of  thine  own  creation ;  ^• 

For  he  who  views  that  witching  grace, 

That  perfect  form,  that  lovely  face, 

With  eyes  admiring,  oh  !  believe  me, 

He  never  wishes  to  deceive  thee  : 

Once  in  thy  polish'd  mirror  glance  "• 

Thou'lt  there  descry  that  elegance 

Which  from  our  sex  demands  such  praises, 

But  envy  in  the  other  raises. — 

Then  he  who  tells  thee  of  thy  beauty,'"- 

Believe  me,  only  does  his  duty : 

Ah  !  fly  not  from  the  candid  youth ; 

It  is  not  flattery,— 'tis  truth.'^' 

July,  1804. 


ON  A   CHANGE    OF    MASTERS  AT  A   GREAT 
PUBLIC   SCHOOL.i 

Where  are  those  honours,  Ida  !  once  your  owii, 
When  Probus  fiU'd  your  magisterial  throne  ? 
As  ancient  Rome,  fast  falling  to  disgrace, 
Hail'd  a  Barbarian  in  her  Caesar's  place, 

i.  Me^'e  phantoms  of  your  own  creation  ; 

For  he  who  sees. — [410] 
ii.   Once  let  you  at  your  mirror  glance 

YoiiUl  there  descry  that  elegance. — [4to] 
iii.    Then  he  who  tells  you  of  your  beauty.  —  [4to] 
iv.  It  is  not  flattery y  but  truth. — [410] 

I.  [In  March,  1805,  Dr.  Drury,  the  Probus  of  the  piece. 


ON    A   CHANGE   OF    MASTERS    AT   A   PUBLIC    SCHOOL.       1 7 

So  you,  degenerate,  share  as  hard  a  fate, 
And  seat  Pomposus  where  your  Probiis  sate. 
Of  narrow  brain,  yet  of  a  narrower  soul,'- 
Pomposus  holds  you  in  his  harsh  controul ; 
Pomposus,  by  no  social  virtue  sway'd. 
With  florid  jargon,  and  with  vain  parade ; 
With  noisy  nonsense,  and  new-fangled  niles, 
(Such  as  were  ne'er  before  enforc'd  in  schools.)"- 
Mistaking /<?^d!«/f_>'  for  learnings  laws, 
He  governs,  sanction'd  but  by  self-applause  ; 
With  him  the  same  dire  fate,  attending  Rome, 
Ill-fated  Ida  !  soon  must  stamp  your  doom  ; 
Like  her  o'erthrown,  for  ever  lost  to  fame, 
No  trace  of  science  left  you,  but  the  name. 

Harrow,  July,  1805. 

i.  but  of  a  narrower  soul. — [4to] 

ii.  Such  as  were  ne'er  before  beheld  in  schools. — [4to] 

retired  from  the  Head-mastership  of  Harrow  School,  and 
was  succeeded  by  Dr.  Butler,  the  Pomposus.  "  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."  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,  "  I  treated  him 
rebelliously,  and  have  been  sorry  ever  since."  (See  allusions 
in  and  notes  to  "  Childish  Recollections,"  pp.  84-106,  and 
especially  note  i,  p.  88,  notes  i  and  2,  p.  89,  and  note  i, 
p.  91.)] 


VOL.    I. 


1 8  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


EPITAPH   ON   A   BELOVED    FRIEND.^ 

'AfTTTjp  nplv  fxkv  (Xa/x-ms  iv\  ^wo7(nu  icfos. 

[Plato's  Epitaph  {Epig.  GrcEc,  Jacobs,  1826,  p,  309), 
quoted  by  Diog.  Laertius.] 

Oh,  Friend  !  for  ever  lov'd,  for  ever  dear  !  •• 
What  fruitless  tears  have  bathed  thy  honour'd  bier  ! 

EPITAPH  ON  A  BELOVED  FRIEND. 

i.   Oh  Boy  !  for  ever  lo'Jd^  for  ever  dear  I 

What  fruitless  tears  have  washed  thy  honour'' d  bier  ;^ 
What  sighs  re-echoed  to  thy  parting  breathy 
Whilst  thou  wert  struggling  in  the  pangs  of  death. 
Could  tears  have  turned  the  tyi-ant  in  his  course. 
Could  sighs  have  check' d  his  darfs  reletitless  force  ;^^^ 
Could  youth  and  virtue  claim  a  short  delay ^ 
Or  beauty  charm  the  spectre  from  his  prey, 
Thou  still  had'st  liv'd  to  bless  my  aching  sight. 
Thy  comrades  hofiour,  and  thy  friend^  s  delight : 
Though  loiu  thy  lot  since  in  a  cottage  born. 
No  titles  did  thy  humble  name  adorn. 
To  me,  far  dearer,  ivas  thy  artless  love, 
Than  all  the  joys,  wealth,  fame,  and  friends  could  prove. 
For  thee  alone  I  liv^d,  or  wished  to  live, 
{Oh  God  I  ifif?ipious,  this  rash  word  forgive,) 
Heart-broken  noio,  I  wait  an  eqtial  doom. 
Content  to  join  thee  in  thy  turf-clad  tomb  ; 
Where  this  frail  form  composed  in  endless  rest. 
Til  make  my  last,  cold,  pilloiv  on  thy  breast ; 
That  breast  where  oft  in  life,  Fve  laid  my  head. 
Will  yet  receive  me  mouldering  zvith  the  dead ; 
This  life  resign'' d,  without  one  parting  sigh. 
Together  in  one  bed  of  earth  we'll  lie  1 
Together  share  the  fate  to  mortals  given. 
Together  mix  our  dust,  and  hope  for  Heaven. 

Harrow,  1803.— [410.     F.  on  V.  Occasions.} 

ii.  have  bathed  thy  honoured  bier. — \P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

iii.   Could  tears  retard. — [F.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
Could  sighs  avert. — [F.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

I.  [The  heading  which  appears  in  the  Quarto  and  P.  on 
V.  Occasions  was  subsequently  changed   to  "  Epitaph  on  a 


EPITAPH    ON    A    BELOVED    FRIEND.  1 9 

What  sighs  re-echo'd  to  thy  parting  breath, 
Whilst  thou  wast  stmggHng  in  the  pangs  of  death  ! 
Could  tears  retard  the  tyrant  in  his  course  ; 
Could  sighs  avert  his  dart's  relentless  force  ; 
Could  youth  and  virtue  claim  a  short  delay, 
Or  beauty  charm  the  spectre  from  his  prey ; 
Thou  still  hadst  liv'd  to  bless  my  aching  sight, 
Thy  comrade's  honour  and  thy  friend's  delight. 
If  yet  thy  gentle  spirit  hover  nigh 
The  spot  where  now  thy  mouldering  ashes  lie. 
Here  wilt  thou  read,  recorded  on  my  heart, 
A  grief  too  deep  to  trust  the  sculptor's  art. 
No  marble  marks  thy  couch  of  lowly  sleep, 
But  living  statues  there  are  seen  to  weep ; 
Affliction's  semblance  bends  not  o'er  thy  tomb. 
Affliction's  self  deplores  thy  youthful  doom. 
What  though  thy  sire  lament  his  failing  line, 
A  father's  sorrows  cannot  equal  mine  ! 
Though  none,  like  thee,  his  dying  hour  will  cheer. 
Yet  other  offspring  soothe  his  anguish  here  : 

Friend."  The  motto  was  prefixed  in  Hours  of  Idleness.  The 
epigram  which  Bergk  leaves  under  Plato's  name  was 
translated  by  Shelley  {Poe?ns,  1895,  iii.  361) — 

"  Thou  wert  the  morning  star 

Among  the  living, 
Ere  thy  fair  light  had  fled  ; 
Now  having  died,  thou  art  as 

Hespenis,  giving 
New  splendour  to  the  dead." 

There  is  an  echo  of  the  Greek  distich  in  Byron's  exquisite 
line,  "  The  Morning-Star  of  Memory."] 


20  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

But,  who  with  me  shall  hold  thy  former  place  ? 
Thine  image,  what  new  friendship  can  efface  ? 
Ah,  none  ! — a  father's  tears  will  cease  to  flow, 
Time  will  assuage  an  infant  brother's  woe ; 
To  all,  save  one,  is  consolation  known. 
While  solitary  Friendship  sighs  alone. 

Harrow,  1803.* 


ADRIAN'S   ADDRESS   TO    HIS   SOUL 
WHEN   DYING. 

Animula  !  vagula,  Blandula, 
Hospes,  comesque  corporis. 
Quae  nunc  abibis  in  Loca — 
Pallidula,  rigida,  nudula, 
Nee,  ut  soles,  dabis  Jocos  ? 

Translation. 
Ah  !  gentle,  fleeting,  wav'ring  Sprite, 
Friend  and  associate  of  this  clay  ! 
To  what  unknown  region  borne, 
Wilt  thou,  now,  wing  thy  distant  flight  ? 
No  more  with  wonted  humour  gay, 
But  pallid,  cheerless,  and  forlorn. 

1806. 

I.  [The  words,  "Southwell,  March  17,"  are  added,  in  a 
lady's  hand,  on  p.  9  of  the  annotated  copy  of  P.  011  V. 
Occasions  in  the  British  Museum.  The  conjecture  that  the 
"  beloved  friend,"  who  is  of  humble  origin,  is  identical  with 
"  E "  of  the  verses  on  p.  4,  remains  uncertain.] 


TO   CAROLINE.  21 

A   FRAGMENT.! 

When,  to  their  airy  hall,  my  Fathers'  voice 

Shall  call  my  spirit,  joyful  in  their  choice; 

When,  pois'd  upon  the  gale,  my  form  shall  ride, 

Or,  dark  in  mist,  descend  the  mountain's  side ; 

Oh !  may  my  shade  behold  no  sculptur'd  urns. 

To  mark  the  spot  where  earth  to  earth  returns ! 

No  lengthened  scroll,  no  praise-encumber'd  stone ;  '• 

My  epitaph  shall  be  my  name  alone  :  ^ 

If  that  with  honour  fail  to  crown  my  clay,''- 

Oh !  may  no  other  fame  my  deeds  repay  ! 

That^  only  that^  shall  single  out  the  spot ; 

By  that  remember'd,  or  with  that  forgot.'"- 

1803. 

TO   CAROLINE.' 
I. 

Oh  !  when  shall  the  grave  hide  for  ever  my  sorrow  ? 
Oh  !  when  shall  my  soul  wing  her  flight  from  this  clay  ? 

i.  No  kngthaCd  scroll  of  vir hie  and  renoivn. — f4to.    P.  on  V.  Occ] 
ii.  If  tha.t  with  honour  fails. — [410] 
iii.  But  that  remember' d^  or  forever  forgot. — [4to.  P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

1.  [There  is  no  heading  in  the  Quarto.] 

2.  [In  his  will,  drawn  up  in  181 1,  Byron  gave  directions 
that  "  no  inscription,  save  his  name  and  age,  should  be 
written  on  his  tomb."  June,  18 19,  he  wrote  to  Murray: 
"  Some  of  the  epitaphs  at  the  Certosa  cemetery,  at  Ferrara, 
pleased  me  more  than  the  more  splendid  monuments  at 
Bologna  ;  for  instance,  '  Martini  Luigi  Implora  pace.'  Can 
anytliing  be  more  full  of  pathos  ?  I  hope  whoever  may 
survive  me  will  see  those  two  words,  and  no  more,  pit  over 
me."— Zz/^,  pp.  131,  398.] 

3.  [To .-[4to].J 


22  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

The  present  is  hell !  and  the  coming  to-morrow 
But  brings,  with  new  torture,  the  curse  of  to-day. 

2. 

From  my  eye  flows  no  tear,  from  my  lips  flow  no  curses,'- 
I  blast  not  the  fiends  who  have  hurl'd  me  from  bUss ; 

For  poor  is  the  soul  which,  bewailing,  rehearses 
Its  querulous  grief,  when  in  anguish  like  this — ■ 

3- 

Was    my  eye,   'stead    of   tears,   with    red    fury  flakes 
bright'ning, 
Would  my  lips  breathe  a  flame  which  no  stream  could 
assuage, 
On  our  foes  should  my  glance  launch  in  vengeance  its 
lightning. 
With  transport  my  tongue  give  a  loose  to  its  rage. 

4- 
But  now  tears  and  curses,  alike  unavailing, 

Would  add  to  the  souls  of  our  tyrants  delight ; 
Could  they  view  us  our  sad  separation  bewailing, 

Their  merciless  hearts  would  rejoice  at  the  sight. 

5. 
Yet,  still,  though  we  bend  with  a  feign'd  resignation. 

Life  beams  not  for  us  with  one  ray  that  can  cheer ; 
Love  and  Hope  upon  earth  bring  no  more  consolation, 
Li  the  grave  is  our  hope,  for  in  life  is  our  fear. 
i,  fall  710  curses.— [^io.     F.  on  V.  Occasions. \ 


TO   CAROLINE.  23 

6. 

Oh !  when,  my  ador'd,  in  the  tomb  will  they  place  me, 
Since,  in  life,  love  and  friendship  for  ever  are  fled  ? 

If  again  in  the  mansion  of  death  I  embrace  thee, 
Perhaps  they  will  leave  unmolested — the  dead. 

1805. 


TO   CAROLINE.^ 

I. 

When  I  hear  you  express  an  affection  so  warm, 
Ne'er  think,  my  belov'd,  that  I  do  not  believe ; 

For  your  lip  would  the  soul  of  suspicion  disarm. 

And  your  eye  beams  a  ray  which  can  never  deceive. 

2. 

Yet  still,  this  fond  bosom  regrets,  while  adoring, 
That  love,  like  the  leaf,  must  fall  into  the  sear. 

That  Age  will  come  on,  when  Remembrance,  deploring. 
Contemplates  the  scenes  of  her  youth,  with  a  tear ; 

3. 
That  the  time  must  arrive,  when,  no  longer  retaining 

Their  auburn,  those  locks  must  wave  thin  to  the  breeze 
When  a  few  silver  hairs  of  those  tresses  remaining. 

Prove  nature  a  prey  to  decay  and  disease. 

I.  [There  is  no  heading  in  the  Quarto.] 


24  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

4. 
'Tis   this,   my  belov'd,  which   spreads  gloom  o'er  my 
features, 
Though  I  ne'er  shall  presume  to  arraign  the  decree 
Which  God  has  proclaim'd  as  the  fate  of  his  creatures, 
In  the  death  which  one  day  will  deprive  you  of  me.*- 

5. 
Mistake  not,  sweet  sceptic,  the  cause  of  emotion,"* 

No  doubt  can  the  mind  of  your  lover  invade ; 
He  worships  each  look  with  such  faithful  devotion, 

A  smile  can  enchant,  or  a  tear  can  dissuade. 

6. 

But  as  death,  my  belov'd,  soon  or  late  shall  o'ertake  us, 
And  our  breasts,  which  alive  with  such  sympathy  glow, 

Will  sleep  in  the  grave,  till  the  blast  shall  awake  us, 
When  calling  the  dead,  in  Earth's  bosom  laid  low. 

7. 

Oh  !  then  let  us  drain,  while  we  may,  draughts  of  pleasure. 
Which  from  passion,  like  ours,  must  unceasingly  flow ;  "*• 

Let  us  pass  round  the  cup  of  Love's  bliss  in  full  measure, 

And  quaff  the  contents  as  our  nectar  below. 

1805. 

i.  will  deprive  me  of  thee. — [4to] 

ii.  No  jargon  of  priests  o^r  our  union  was  muttet'd. 
To  rivet  the  fetters  of  husband  and  wife  ; 
By  our  lips,  by  our  hearts,  were  our  vows  alone  uftej^dy 

To  pefform  them,  in  full,  would  ask  more  than  a  life. — [4(0] 
iii,  will  unceasingly  flotv. — [4to] 


ON    A   DISTANT   VIEW   OF    HARROW.  25 

ON  A  DISTANT  VIEW  OF  THE  VILLAGE  AND 

SCHOOL  OF  HARROW  ON  THE  HILL,  1806. 

Oh  !  mihi  prseteritos  referat  si  Jupiter  annos.' — Virgll. 

I. 

Ye  scenes  of  my  childhood,  whose  lov'd  recollection 

Embitters  the  present,  compar'd  with  the  past ; 
Where  science  first  dawn'd  on  the  powers  of  reflection, 
And  friendships  were  form'd,  too  romantic  to  last ;  ^ 

2. 
Where  fancy,  yet,  joys  to  retrace  the  resemblance 

Of  comrades,  in  friendship  and  mischief  allied ;  ^ 
How  welcome  to  me  your  ne'er  fading  remembrance,*- 

Which  rests  in  the  bosom,  though  hope  is  deny'd ! 

3. 

Again  I  revisit  the  hills  where  we  sported, 

The  streams  where  we  swam,  and  the  fields  where  we 
fought ;  * 

i.  Hffiu  welcome  once  more. — [410] 

1.  [The  motto  was  prefixed  in  Hours  of  Idlefiess."] 

2.  ["  My  school-friendships  were  with  me  passions  (for 
I  was  always  violent),  but  I  do  not  know  that  there  is  one 
which  has  endured  (to  be  sure,  some  have  been  cut  short  by 
death)  till  now." — Diary,  1821  ;  Life,  p.  21.] 

3.  [Byron  was  at  first  placed  in  the  house  of  Mr.  Henry 
Drury,  but  in  1803  was  removed  to  that  of  Mr.  Evans. 
"  The  reason  why  Lord  Byron  wishes  for  the  change,  arises 
from  the  repeated  complaints  of  Mr.  Henr>^  Drury  respecting 
his  inattention  to  business,  and  his  propensity  to  make 
others  laugh  and  disregard  their  employment  as  much  as 
himself." — Dr.  Joseph  Drury  to  Mr.  John  Hanson.] 

4.  ["  At  Harrow  I  fought  my  way  very  fairly.  I  think  I 
lost  but  one  battle  out  of  seven." — Diary,  1821  ;  Life,  p.  21.] 


26  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

The  school  where,  loud  warn'd  by  the  bell,  we  resorted, 
To  pore  o'er  the  precepts  by  Pedagogues  taught. 

4. 

Again  I  behold  where  for  hours  I  have  ponder' d, 
As  reclining,  at  eve,  on  yon  tombstone  ^  I  lay ; 

Or  round  the  steep  brow  of  the  churchyard  I  wander'd, 
To  catch  the  last  gleam  of  the  sun's  setting  ray. 

5. 

I  once  more  view  the  room,  with  spectators  surrounded, 
Where,  as  Zanga,^  I  trod  on  Alonzo  o'erthrown ; 

While,  to  swell  my  young  pride,  such  applauses  resounded, 
I  fancied  that  Mossop  ^  himself  was  outshone. 

6. 

Or,  as  Lear,  I  pour'd  forth  the  deep  imprecation. 
By  my  daughters,  of  kingdom  and  reason  depriv'd ; 

Till,  fir'd  by  loud  plaudits  and  self-adulation, 
I  regarded  myself  as  a  Garrick  reviv'd.'- 

i.  /  cofisider^d  myself. — [4to] 

1.  [A  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. — Life,  p.  26.] 

2.  [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. — Life,  p.  20,  7iotej  and  post, 
p.  103,  var.  i.] 

3.  [Henry  Mossop  (1729-1773),  a  contemporary  of  Garrick, 
famous  for  his  performance  of  "  Zanga  "  in  Young's  tragedy 
of  The  Reve?ige.'] 


ON    A   DISTANT   VIEW   OF    HARROW.  27 

7.. 

Ye  dreams  of  my  boyhood,  how  much  I  regret  you ! 

Unfaded  your  memory  dwells  in  my  breast ;  '• 
Though  sad  and  deserted,  I  ne'er  can  forget  you : 

Your  pleasures  may  still  be  in  fancy  possest. 

8. 

To  Ida  full  oft  may  remembrance  restore  me,'*- 
While  Fate  shall  the  shades  of  the  future  unroll ! 

Since  Darkness  o'ershadows  the  prospect  before  me, 
More  dear  is  the  beam  of  the  past  to  my  soul ! 

9. 

But  if,  through  the  course  of  the  years  which  await  me, 
Some  new  scene  of  pleasure  should  open  to  view, 

I  will  say,  while  with  rapture  the  thought  shall  elate  me, 
"  Oh  !  such  were  the  days  which  my  infancy  knew."  ^ 

1806. 

i.       As  your  memory  beajns  through  this  agonized  breast ; 
Thus  sad  and  deserted,  I  nier  can  forget  you. 

Though  this  heart  throbs  to  bursting  by  anguish  possest. — [4to] 
Your  memory  beams  through  this  agonized  breast. — 

[P.  on  V.  Occasions. ~\ 
ii.       I  thought  this  poor  brain,  fevered  even  to  tnadness^ 
Of  tears  as  of  reason  for  ever  was  drained  ; 
But  the  drops  ivhich  noiuflozu  doxvn  this  bosom  of  sadness^ 
Convince  me  the  sprifigs  have  some  moisture  retain'' d. 

Sweet  scenes  of  my  childhood!  your  blest  recollection. 
Has  wrung  f-om  these  eyelids,  to  weeping  long  dead^ 

In  torrents,  the  tears  of  my  loarmest  affection, 
The  last  and  the  fondest,  I  ever  shall  shed. — 

[410.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

I.  [Stanzas  8  and  9  first  appeared  in  Hour's  of  Idleness^ 


28  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 


THOUGHTS   SUGGESTED   BY   A   COLLEGE 
EXAMINATION. 

High  in  the  midst,  surrounded  by  his  peers, 
Magnus  ^  his  ample  front  sublime  uprears  :  '• 
Plac'd  on  his  chair  of  state,  he  seems  a  God, 
While  Sophs  ^  and  Freshmen  tremble  at  his  nod ; 
As  all  around  sit  wrapt  in  speechless  gloom,"- 
His  voice,  in  thunder,  shakes  the  sounding  dome ; 
Denouncing  dire  reproach  to  luckless  fools, 
Unskill'd  to  plod  in  mathematic  mles. 

Happy  the  youth  !  in  Euclid's  axioms  tried, 
Though  little  vers'd  in  any  art  beside ;  lo 

Who,  scarcely  skill'd  an  English  line  to  pen,'"- 
Scans  Attic  metres  with  a  critic's  ken. 

i.  M—ns — /, — [4to] 
ii.    Whilst  all  around. — [4to] 
iii.    Who  with  scarce  sense  to  pen  an  English  letter ^ 
Yet  with  precision  scans  an  Attic  metre. — [4to] 

1.  No  reflection  is  here  intended  against  the  person 
mentioned  under  the  name  of  Magnus.  He  is  merely  repre- 
sented 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  elo- 
quence, and  the  dignified  propriety  with  which  he  fills  his 
situation,  as  he  was  in  his  younger  days  for  wit  and  con- 
viviality. [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.] 

2.  [Undergraduates  of  the  second  and  third  year.] 


THOUGHTS    SUGGESTED    BY    A    COLLEGE    EXAMINATION.    29 

What !  though  he  knows  not  how  his  fathers  bled, 
When  civil  discord  pil'd  the  fields  with  dead, 
When  Edward  bade  his  conquering  bands  advance, 
Or  Henry  trampled  on  the  crest  of  France  : 
Though  marvelling  at  the  name  of  Magna  Charta^ 
Yet  well  he  recollects  the  laws  of  Sparta  ; 
Can  tell,  what  edicts  sage  Lycurgus  made. 
While  Blackstom's  on  the  shelf  ^  neglected  laid ;  20 

Of  Grecian  dramas  vaunts  the  deathless  fame, 
Of  Avon's  dard,  rememb'ring  scarce  the  name. 

Such  is  the  youth  whose  scientific  pate 
Class-honours,  medals,  fellowships,  await ; 
Or  even,  perhaps,  the  declamation  prize, 
If  to  such  glorious  height,  he  lifts  his  eyes. 
But  lo  !  no  common  orator  can  hope 
The  envied  silver  cup  within  his  scope  : 
Not  that  our  heads  much  eloquence  require, 
Th'  Athenian's  ^  glowing  style,  or  Tully's  fire.      30 
A  manner  clear  or  warm  is  useless,  since  '• 
We  do  not  try  by  speaking  to  convince ; 
Be  other  orators  of  pleasing /;w^^, — 
We  speak  to  please  ourselves,  not  mo^e  the  crowd ; 
Our  gravity  prefers  the  muttering  tone, 
A  proper  mixture  of  the  sqmak  and  groan : 

i.   The  manner  of  the  speech  is  nothing,  since. — 

[4to.     F.  on  V.  Occasions.\ 

I.  Demosthenes. 


30  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

No  borrow'd  grace  of  action  must  be  seen, 

The  slightest  motion  would  displease  the  Dean  ; 

Whilst  every  staring  Graduate  would  prate, 

Against  what — he  could  never  imitate.  40 

The  man,  who  hopes  t'  obtain  the  promis'd  cup, 
Must  in  one  posture  stand,  and  ne'er  look  up  ; 
Nor  stop^  but  rattle  over  every  word — • 
No  matter  what^  so  it  can  not  be  heard  : 
Thus  let  him  hurry  on,  nor  think  to  rest : 
Who  speaks  \Si^ fastest' s  sure  to  speak  the  best ; 
Who  utters  most  within  the  shortest  space, 
May,  safely,  hope  to  win  the  ivordy  race. 

The  Sons  of  Science  these,  who,  thus  repaid, 
Linger  in  ease  in  Granta's  sluggish  shade ;  50 

Where  on  Cam's  sedgy  banks,  supine,  they  lie, 
Unknown,  unhonour'd  live — unwept  for  die  : 
Dull  as  the  pictures,  which  adorn  their  halls. 
They  think  all  learning  fix'd  within  their  walls : 
In  manners  rude,  in  foolish  forms  precise. 
All  modern  arts  affecting  to  despise ; 
Yet  prizing  Bentley's^  Briinck's,  or  Parson's  ^  note,'- 

i.   Celebrated  critics. — [410.     Three  first  Edition  s.'l 

I.  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,  181 8.  Byron  says  {Diaiy^  December  17, 
18,   18 1 3)  that  he  wrote  the  Devil's  Drive  in  imitation  of 


THOUGHTS   SUGGESTED    BY   A    COLLEGE    EXAMINATION.    3 1 

More  than  the  verse  on  which  the  critic  wi'oie: 
Vain  as  their  honours,  heavy  as  their  Ale,^ 
Sad  as  their  wit,  and  tedious  as  their  tale ;  60 

To  friendship  dead,  though  not  untaught  to  feel, 
When  Self  and  Church  demand  a  Bigot  zeal. 
With  eager  haste  they  court  the  lord  of  power,'- 
(Whether  'tis  Pitt  or  Petty  ^  rules  the  hour ;) 
To  /«>«,  with  suppliant  smiles,  they  bend  the  head, 
^Vhile  distant  mitres  to  their  eyes  are  spread  ;J'- 
But  should  a  storm  o'erwhelm  him  with  disgra-ce,  ^ 
They'd  fly  to  seek  the  next,  who  fill'd  his  place. 
Such  are  the  men  who  learning's  treasures  guard  ! 
Stich  is  \ki^\x  practice^  such  is  their  7'eward  /  70 

This  much^  at  least,  we  may  presume  to  say — 
The  premium  can't  exceed  the  price  they  pay}"- 

1806. 
i.    They  court  the  toot  of  power. — [4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
ii.    White  mitres^  prebends. — [410.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
iii.    The  reward's  scarce  eqtiat  to  the  price  they  pay, — [4to] 

Person's  DeviVs  Walk.  This  was  a  common  misappre- 
hension at  the  time.  The  DcviVs  Thoughts  was  the  joint 
composition  of  Coleridge  and  Soiithey,  but  it  was  generally 
attributed  to  Porson,  who  took  no  trouble  to  disclaim  it.  It 
was  originally  published  in  the  Morning  Post.,  Sept.  6,  1799, 
and  Stuart,  the  editor,  said  that  it  raised  the  circulation  of 
the  paper  for  several  days  after.  (See  Coleridge's  Poems 
(1893),  pp.  147,  621.)] 

1.  [Lines  59-62  are  not  in  the  Quarto.  They  first  appeared 
in  Poems  Original  and  Translated^] 

2.  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.  [Lord  Henry  Petty,  ALP.  for  the 
University  of  Cambridge,  was  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  in 
1805  ;  but  in  1807  he  lost  his  seat.  In  1S09  he  succeeded 
his  brother  as  Marquis  of  Lansdowne.     He  died  in  1863.] 


32  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


TO  MARY, 

ON    RECEIVING    HER    PICTURE.* 
I, 

This  faint  resemblance  of  thy  charms, 
(Though  strong  as  mortal  art  could  give,) 

My  constant  heart  of  fear  disarms, 
Revives  my  hopes,  and  bids  me  live, 

2. 

Here,  I  can  trace  the  locks  of  gold 
Which  round  thy  sno^vy  forehead  wave ; 

The  cheeks  which  sprung  from  Beauty's  mould, 
The  lips,  which  made  me  Beauty's  slave. 

3. 

Here  I  can  trace — ah,  no  !  that  eye. 

Whose  azure  floats  in  liquid  fire, 
Must  all  the  painter's  art  defy. 

And  bid  him  from  the  task  retire, 

4. 
Here,  I  behold  its  beauteous  hue ; 

But  where's  the  beam  so  sweetly  straying,*- 

i-       But  where's  the  beam  of  soft  desire  i 
Which  gave  a  lustre  to  its  bhie. 
Love,  only  love,  could  e'er  inspire. — 

[4to.     F.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

I.  [This  "  Mary  "  is  not  to  be  confounded  with  the  heiress 
of  Annesley,  or  "  Mary  "  of  Aberdeen.     She  was  of  humble 


TO   MARY.  33 

Which  gave  a  lustre  to  its  blue, 
Like  Luna  o'er  the  ocean  playing  ? 

5- 
Sweet  copy  !  far  more  dear  to  me, 

Lifeless,  unfeeling  as  thou  art. 
Than  all  the  living  forms  could  be. 

Save  her  who  plac'd  thee  next  my  heart. 

6. 

She  plac'd  it,  sad,  with  needless  fear, 

Lest  time  might  shake  my  wavering  soul, 

Unconscious  that  her  image  there 
Held  every  sense  in  fast  controul. 

7. 

Thro*  hours,  thro'  years,  thro'  time,  'twill  cheer — 
My  hope,  in  gloomy  moments,  raise ; 

In  life's  last  conflict  'twill  appear, 
And  meet  my  fond,  expiring  gaze. 

station  in  life.  Byron  used  to  show  a  lock  of  her  light  golden 
hair,  as  well  as  her  picture,  among  his  friends.  (See  Life^ 
p.  41,  7iote:)\ 


VOL.  I. 


34  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


ON   THE   DEATH   OF   MR.  FOX,i 

THE     FOLLOWING     ILLIBERAL     IMPROMPTU     APPEARED     IN 
THE    "  MORNING   POST." 

"  Our  Nation's  foes  lament  on  Foocs  death, 
But  bless  the  hour,  when  Pitt  resign'd  his  breath : 
These  feelings  wide,  let  Sense  and  Truth  undue. 
We  give  the  palm,  where  Justice  points  its  due." 

TO   WHICH    THE     AUTHOR    OF    THESE     PIECES     SENT    THE 

FOLLOWING    REPLY'-     FOR     INSERTION    IN    THE 

"  MORNING   CHRONICLE." 

Oh,  factious  viper  !  whose  envenom'd  tooth 
Would  mangle,  still,  the  dead,  perverting  truth ;  ''• 
What,  though  our  "  nation's  foes  "  lament  the  fate. 
With  generous  feeling,  of  the  good  and  great ; 
Shall  dastard  tongues  essay  to  blast  the  name  '"• 
Of  him,  whose  meed  exists  in  endless  fame  ? 
When  Pitt  expir'd  in  plenitude  of  power, 
Though  ill  success  obscur'd  his  dying  hour, 

i.    The  sjihjoined  Reply. — [4to] 

ii.    Would  mangle,  still,  the  dead,  in  spite  of  truth. — [410] 
iii.  Shall,  therefore,  dastard  tongues  assail  the  name 
Of  him,  zvhose  virtues  claim  eternal  fame  1 — [4to] 

I.  [The  stanza  on  the  death  of  Fox  appeared  in  the  Mont- 
mo  Post,  September  26,  1806.] 


ON    THE    DEATH    OF    MR.    FOX.  35 

Pity  her  dewy  wings  before  him  spread, 

For  noble  spirits  "  war  not  with  the  dead  :  " 

His  friends  in  tears,  a  last  sad  requiem  gave, 

As  all  his  errors  slumber' d  in  the  grave ;  '* 

He  sunk,  an  Atlas  bending  'neath  the  weight"- 

Of  cares  o'erwhelming  our  conflicting  state. 

When,  lo  !  a  Hercules,  in  Fox,  appear'd, 

Who  for  a  time  the  ruin'd  fabric  rear'd  : 

He,  too,  is  fall'n,  who  Britain's  loss  supplied,"'* 

With  him,  our  fast  reviving  hopes  have  died ; 

Not  one  great  people,  only,  raise  his  urn, 

All  Europe's  far-extended  regions  mourn. 

"  These  feelings  wide,  let  Sense  and  Truth  undue, 

To  give  the  palm  where  Justice  points  its  due  ; "  ''' 

Yet,  let  not  canker'd  Calumny  assail,''- 

Or  round  her  statesman  wind  her  gloomy  veil. 

Fox  !  o'er  whose  corse  a  mourning  world  must  weep. 

Whose  dear  remains  in  honour'd  marble  sleep ; 

For  whom,  at  last,  e'en  hostile  nations  groan. 

While  friends  and  foes,  alike,  his  talents  own. — "^ 


i.  And  all  his  errors. — [4to] 

ii.  He  died,  an  Atlas  betiding  *  neath  the  weight 
Of  cares  oppressing  our  Jinhappy  state. 
But  lo  !  another  Hercules  appeared.— [^to] 

iii.  He  too  is  dead  who  still  our  England  prop fd 

With  him  our  fast  reviving  hopes  have  dropped.— \^\o\ 

iv.  And  give  the  palm. — [4to] 

V.  But  let  not  caiiker'd  Calumny  assail 
And  round. — [410] 

vi.  And  friends  and  foes.—  [410] 


36  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Fox  !  shall,  in  Britain's  future  annals,  shine, 
Nor  e'en  to  Pitt,  the  patriot's  palm  resign ; 
Which  Envy,  wearing  Candour's  sacred  mask, 
For  Pitt,  and  Pitt  alone,  has  dar'd  to  ask.'- 

[Southwell,  Oct.,  1806.]  * 


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.^ 

These  locks,  which  fondly  thus  entwine, 

In  firmer  chains  our  hearts  confine,  ' 

Than  all  th'  unmeaning  protestations 

Which  swell  with  nonsense,  love  orations. 

Our  love  is  fix'd,  I  think  we've  prov'd  it ; 

Nor  time,  nor  place,  nor  art  have  mov'd  it ; 

Then  wherefore  should  we  sigh  and  whine, 

With  groundless  jealousy  repine ; 

With  silly  whims,  and  fancies  frantic, 

Merely  to  make  our  love  romantic  ? 

Why  should  you  weep,  like  Lydia  Laiiguish^ 

And  fret  with  self-created  anguish  ? 

i.  would  dare  to  ask. — [4to] 

1.  [This  MS.  is  preserved  at  Newstead.] 

2.  [These  lines  are  addressed  to  the  same  Mary  referred 
to  in  the  lines  beginning,  "This  faint  resemblance  of  thy 
charms."    {Vide  ante,  p.  32.)] 


TO    A    LADY    WHO    PRESENTED,    ETC.  37 

Or  doom  the  lover  you  have  chosen, 
On  winter  nights  to  sigh  half  frozen  ; 
In  leafless  shades,  to  sue  for  pardon, 
Only  because  the  scene's  a  garden  ? 
For  gardens  seem,  by  one  consent, 
(Since  Shakespeare  set  the  precedent ; 
Since  Juliet  first  declar'd  her  passion) 
To  form  the  place  of  assignation. 
Oh  !  would  some  modern  muse  inspire, 
And  seat  her  by  a  sea-coal  fire  ; 
Or  had  the  bard  at  Christmas  written, 
And  laid  the  scene  of  love  in  Britain ; 
He  surely,  in  commiseration, 
Had  chang'd  the  place  of  declaration. 
In  Italy,  I've  no  objection. 
Warm  nights  are  proper  for  reflection ; 
But  here  our  climate  is  so  rigid, 
That  love  itself,  is  rather  frigid  : 
Think  on  our  chilly  situation. 
And  curb  this  rage  for  imitation. 
Then  let  us  meet,  as  oft  we've  done, 
Beneath  the  influence  of  the  sun  ; 
Or,  if  at  midnight  I  must  meet  you, 
Within  your  mansion  let  me  greet  you  :  '• 
There^  we  can  love  for  hours  together. 
Much  better,  in  such  snowy  weather, 
Than  plac'd  in  all  th'  Arcadian  groves, 

i.   Oh  !  let  me  in  your  chamber  greet  yoti. — [4to] 


4^789 


38  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

That  ever  witness'd  rural  loves  j 
Then^  if  my  passion  fail  to  pleased- 
Next  night  I'll  be  content  to  freeze ; 
No  more  I'll  give  a  loose  to  laughter, 
But  curse  my  fate,  for  ever  after.^ 


TO   A   BEAUTIFUL   QUAKER.2 

Sweet  girl !  though  only  once  we  met, 
That  meeting  I  shall  ne'er  forget ; 

i.   Inhere  if  my  passion. — [4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

1.  In  the  above  little  piece  the  author  has  been  accused 
by  some  candid  readers  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  December,  in  a  village  where  the  author 
never  passed  a  winter.  Such  has  been'  the  candour  of  some 
ingenious  critics.  We  would  advise  these  liberal  commen- 
tators on  taste  and  arbiters  of  decorum  to  read  Shakespeare. 

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,  Carres  Stranger  in 
France. — "As  we  were  contemplating  a  painting  on  a  large 
scale,  in  Avhich,  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.'" — [Ed.  1803,  cap.  xvi.  p.  171. 
Compare  the  note  on  verses  addressed  "  To  a  Knot  of  Un- 
generous Critics,"  p.  213.] 

2.  ["Whom  the  author  saw  at  Harrowgate." — Annotated 
copy  of  P.  on  V,  Occasions,  p.  64  {British  Museuni)i\ 


TO    A    BEAUTIFUL    QUAKER.  39 

And  though  we  ne'er  may  meet  again, 
Remembrance  will  thy  form  retain ; 
I  would  not  say,  "  I  love,"  but  still, 
My  senses  stniggle  with  my  will : 
In  vain  to  drive  thee  from  my  breast, 
My  thoughts  are  more  and  more  represt ; 
In  vain  I  check  the  rising  sighs, 
Another  to  the  last  replies  : 
Perhaps,  this  is  not  love,  but  yet. 
Our  meeting  I  can  ne'er  forget. 

What,  though  we  never  silence  broke, 
Our  eyes  a  sweeter  language  spoke ; 
The  tongue  in  flattering  falsehood  deals, 
And  tells  a  tale  it  never  feels  : 
Deceit,  the  guilty  lips  impart. 
And  hush  the  mandates  of  the  heart ; 
But  soul's  interpreters,  the  eyes, 
Spurn  such  restraint,  and  scorn  disguise. 
As  thus  our  glances  oft  convers'd, 
And  all  our  bosoms  felt  rehears'd, 
No  spirit^  from  within,  reprov'd  us. 
Say  rather,  "  'twas  the  spirit  mov\i  us." 
Though,  what  they  utter'd,  I  repress, 
Yet  I  conceive  thou'lt  partly  guess  \ 
For  as  on  thee,  my  memory  ponders, 
Perchance  to  me,  thine  also  wanders. 
This,  for  myself,  at  least,  I'll  sr.y. 


40  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Thy  form  appears  through  night,  through  day ; 

Awake,  with  it  my  fancy  teems, 

In  sleep,  it  smiles  in  fleeting  dreams ; 

The  vision  charms  the  hours  away, 

And  bids  me  curse  Aurora's  ray 

For  breaking  slumbers  of  delight, 

Which  make  me  wish  for  endless  night. 

Since,  oh  !  whate'er  my  future  fate, 

Shall  joy  or  woe  my  steps  await  ; 

Tempted  by  love,  by  storms  beset, 

Thine  image,  I  can  ne'er  forget. 

Alas  !  again  no  more  we  meet. 

No  more  our  former  looks  repeat ; 

Then,  let  me  breathe  this  parting  prayer. 

The  dictate  of  my  bosom's  care  : 

"  May  Heaven  so  guard  my  lovely  quaker. 

That  anguish  never  can  o'ertake  her ; 

That  peace  and  virtue  ne'er  forsake  her, 

But  bliss  be  aye  her  heart's  partaker  ! 

Oh  !  may  the  happy  mortal,  fated  '• 

To  be,  by  dearest  ties,  related, 

For  hevy  each  hour,  new  joys  discover,"- 

And  lose  the  husband  in  the  lover  ! 

1.  The  Quarto  inserts  the  following  lines  :  — 

*'  No  Jealous  passion  shall  invade^ 
No  envy  that  pure  heart  pef-vade  ;^'* 
For  he  that  revels  in  such  charms^ 
Can  never  seek  another'' s  arms. 

ii.  new  joy  discover. — [4to] 


TO    LESBIAI  41 

May  that  fair  bosom  never  know 
What  'tis  to  feel  the  restless  woe, 
Which  stings  the  soul,  with  vain  regret, 
Of  him,  who  never  can  forget ! " 

1806. 

TO  LESBIA!'-^ 
I. 

Lesbia  !  since  far  from  you  I've  rang'd,"* 
Our  souls  with  fond  affection  glow  not ; 

You  say,  'tis  I,  not  you ^  have  chang'd, 
I'd  tell  you  why, — but  yet  I  know  not. 

2. 
Your  polish'd  brow  no  cares  have  crost ; 

And  Lesbia  !  we  are  not  much  older,"'- 
Since,  trembling,  first  my  heart  I  lost, 

Or  told  my  love,  with  hope  grown  bolder. 

3- 
Sixteen  was  then  our  utmost  age. 

Two  years  have  lingering  pass'd  away,  love  ! 
And  now  new  thoughts  our  minds  engage, 

At  least,  I  feel  disposed  to  stray,  love  ! 

i.   To  Julia.— lA.io^ 
ii.  Julia  since. — [410] 
iii.  A7id  Julia. — [410] 

I.  ["The  lady's  name  was  Julia  Leacroft "  (A^^/^  <5y  i1//j-j 
E.  Pigot).  The  word  "Julia  "  (?)  is  added,  in  a  lady's  hand, 
in  the  annotated  copy  of  P,  on  V,  Occasions ^  p.  52  {British 
Museum).'] 


42  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

'Tis  /  that  am  alone  to  blame, 

/,  that  am  guilty  of  love's  treason  ; 

Since  your  sweet  breast  is  still  the  same, 
Caprice  must  be  my  only  reason. 

5- 
I  do  not,  love  !  suspect  your  truth, 

With  jealous  doubt  my  bosom  heaves  not; 
Warm  was  the  passion  of  my  youth, 

One  trace  of  dark  deceit  it  leaves  not. 

6. 
No,  no,  my  flame  was  not  pretended ; 

For,  oh  !  I  lov'd  you  most  sincerely ; 
And  though  our  dream  at  last  is  ended 

My  bosom  still  esteems  you  dearly. 

7. 
No  more  we  meet  in  yonder  bowers ; 

Absence  has  made  me  prone  to  roving  ;  *• 
But  older,  firmer  hearts  than  ours 

Have  found  monotony  in  loving. 

8. 

Your  cheek's  soft  bloom  is  unimpair'd, 
New  beauties,  still,  are  daily  bright'ning, 

Your  eye,  for  conquest  beams  prepar'd,"- 

The  forge  of  love's  resistless  lightning. 

i.  Perhaps  my  souPs  too  pure  for  roving. — [4to] 
ii .    Your  eye  for  cowjuest  comes  prepared.  — [410] 


TO    WOMAN.  43 

Arm'd  thns,  to  make  their  bosoms  bleed, 
Many  will  throng,  to  sigh  like  me,  love  ! 

More  constant  they  may  prove,  indeed  ; 
Fonder,  alas  !  they  ne'er  can  be,  love  ! 

[1806.] 


TO   WOMAN. 

Woman  !  experience  might  have  told  me  '• 

That  all  must  love  thee,  who  behold  thee ; 

Surely  experience  might  have  taught 

Thy  firmest  promises  are  nought ;  "• 

But,  plac'd  in  all  thy  charms  before  me, 

All  I  forget,  but  to  adore  thee. 

Oh  memory  !  thou  choicest  blessing, 

When  join'd  with  hope,  when  still  possessing ; ''•• 

But  how  much  curst  by  eveiy  lover 

When  hope  is  fled,  and  passion's  over. 

Woman,  that  fair  and  fond  deceiver, 

How  prompt  are  striplings  to  believe  her ! 

How  throbs  the  pulse,  when  first  we  view 

The  eye  that  rolls  in  glossy  blue, 

i.  Surely,  experience. — [4to] 

ii.  A  woniaiCs  promises  are  naught. — [4to] 

iii.   Here  follows,  in  the  Quarto,  an  additional  couplet  :— 
Thou  ivhisperest,  as  our  hearts  are  beating, 
"  What  oft  zve've  done,  xv^rc  still  repeating.''^ 


44  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Or  sparkles  black,  or  mildly  throws 
A  beam  from  under  hazel  brows  ! 
How  quick  we  credit  every  oath, 
And  hear  her  plight  the  willing  troth ! 
Fondly  we  hope  'twill  last  for  ay, 
When,  lo  !  she  changes  in  a  day. 
This  record  will  for  ever  stand,** 
"  Woman,  thy  vows  are  trac'd  in  sand."  ^ 

i.    This  Record  will  for  ever  stand 

That  Woman'' s  vows  are  writ  in  sand. — [4to] 

I.  The  last  line  is  almost  a  literal  translation  from  a 
Spanish  proverb. 

[The  last  line  is  not  "  almost  a  literal  translation  from  a 
Spanish  proverb,"  but  an  adaptation  of  part  of  a  stanza  from 
the  Diatia  of  Jorge  de  Montemajor — 

"  Mirk,  el  Amor,  lo  que  ordena  ; 
Que  OS  viene  a  hazer  creer 
Cosas  dichas  por  muger, 
Y  escriptas  en  el  arena." 

Southey,  in  his  Letters  from  Spam,  17^)7,  pp.  87-91,  gives 
a  specimen  of  the  Diana,  and  renders  the  lines  in  question 
thus — 

"  And  Love  beheld  us  from  his  secret  stand, 

And  mark'd  his  triumph,  laughing,  to  behold  me. 
To  see  me  trust  a  writing  traced  in  sand, 
To  see  me  credit  what  a  woman  told  me." 

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.] 


AN    OCCASIONAL    PROLOGUE.  45 


AN   OCCASIONAL   PROLOGUE, 

DELIVERED  BY  THE  AUTHOR  PREVIOUS  TO  THE  PER- 
FORMANCE OF  "THE  WHEEL  OF  FORTUNE"  AT  A 
PRIVATE   THEATRE.^ 

Since  the  refinement  of  this  polish'd  age 
Has  swept  immoral  raillery  from  the  stage ; 
Since  taste  has  now  expung'd  licentious  wit, 
Which  stamp'd  disgrace  on  all  an  author  writ ; 
Since,  now,  to  please  with  purer  scenes  we  seek. 
Nor  dare  to  call  the  blush  from  Beauty's  cheek ; 
Oh  !  let  the  modest  Muse  some  pity  claim, 
And  meet  indulgence — though  she  find  not  fame. 
Still,  not  for  her  alone,  we  wish  respect,' 
Others  appear  more  conscious  of  defect : 
To-night  no  vefra?i  Roscii  you  behold. 
In  all  the  arts  of  scenic  action  old ; 

i.  But  not  for  her  alone. — [410] 

I.  ['•  I  enacted  Penruddock,  in  The  Wheel  of  Fortune ^TcaiS. 
Tristram  Fickle,  in  the  farce  of  The  Weathercock^  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." — Diary;  Life,  p.  38.  The 
prologue  was  written  by  him,  between  stages,  on  his  way 
from  Harrogate.  On  getting  into  the  carriage  at  Chester- 
field, he  said  to  his  companion,  "  Now,  Pigot,  Pll  spin  a 
prologue  for  our  play  ;  "  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  debut j  and,  on  being  told  it,  exclaiming, 
"Aye,  that  will  do  for  rhyme  to  ^  7iew.^" — -^{/^j  P-  39-  "  The 
Prologue  was  spoken  by  G.  Wylde,  Esq." — Note  by  Miss 
E.   PiGOT.] 


46  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

No  Cooke,  no  Kemble,  can  salute  you  here, 

No  SiDDONS  draw  the  sympathetic  tear ; 

To-night  you  throng  to  witness  the  debut 

Of  embryo  Actors,  to  the  Drama  new  : 

Here,  then,  our  ahnost  unfledg'd  wings  we  try  ; 

Clip  not  owx  pinions  ^  ere  the  birds  can  fly : 

Failing  in  this  our  first  attempt  to  soar, 

Drooping,  alas  !  we  fall  to  rise  no  more. 

Not  one  poor  trembler,  only,  fear  betrays. 

Who  hopes,  yet  almost  dreads  to  meet  your  praise ; 

But  all  our  Dramatis  Personse  wait, 

In  fond  suspense  this  crisis  of  their  fate. 

No  venal  views  our  progress  can  retard, 

Your  generous  plaudits  are  our  sole  reward ; 

For  these,  each  Hero  all  his  power  displays,*- 

Each  timid  Heroine  shrinks  before  your  gaze  s 

Surely  the  last  will  some  protection  find  ?  *'• 

None,  to  the  softer  sex,  can  prove  unkind : 

While  Youth  and  Beauty  form  the  female  shield,"'- 

The  sternest  Censor  to  the  fair  must  yield.'''* 

Yet,  should  our  feeble  efforts  nought  avail, 

Should,  after  all,  our  best  endeavours  fail ; 

Still,  let  some  mercy  in  your  bosoms  livCj 

And,  if  you  can't  applaud,  at  \Q2iSt  forgive^ 

i.  For  them  each  Hero. — [4to] 
ii.  Surely  these  last. — [410] 
iii.    Whilst  Youth. — [410.     P.  on  V,  Occasions. ^ 
iv.   The  sternest  critic. — [410] 


TO    ELIZA.  47 


TO   ELIZA.*- 

I. 

Eliza  !  ^  what  fools  are  the  Mussuhnan  sect, 
Who,  to  woman,  deny  the  soul's  future  existence  ; 

Could  they  see  thee,  Eliza  !  they'd  own  their  defect, 
And  this  doctrine  \AOuld  meet  with  a  general  resistance." 

2. 

Had  their  Prophet  possess'd  half  an  atom  of  sense,'"- 
He  ne'er  would  have  woma?i  from  Paradise  driven ; 

Instead  of  his  Houris^  a  flimsy  pretence,'"'' 

With  woman  alo7ie  he  had  peopled  his  Heaven. 

3. 

Yet,  still,  to  increase  your  calamities  more,''- 

Not  content  with  depriving  your  bodies  of  spirit. 

He  allots  one  poor  husband  to  share  amongst  four  !  "'• — 
With  sotds  you'd  dispense ;  but,  this  last,  who  could 
bear  it  ? 

i.   To  Miss  E.  Z'.— [4to] 

To  Miss . — \P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

ii.  Did  they  kfioxv  hiit  yourself  they  would  bend  7vith  respect. 

And  this  doctrine  must  meet . — \^MS.  N'ezustead.] 

iii.  But  an  atom  of  sense. — [410] 
iv.  But  instead  of  his  Houris. — [4to] 
V.  But  still  to  ijicrease. — [4to] 
vi.  He  allots  but  one  husband. — [4to] 

I.  [The  letters  "  E.  B.  P."  are  added,  in  a  lady's  hand,  in 
the  annotated  copy  of  P.  on  V.  Occasions^  p.  26  {British 
Alusemn).     The  initials  stand  for  Miss  Elizabeth  Pigot.] 


48  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

His  religion  to  please  neither/^;-/)'  is  made ; 

On  husbands  'tis  hard^  to  the  wives  most  uncivil  \ 
Still  I  can't  contradict,'-  what  so  oft  has  been  said, 

"  Though  women  are  angels,  yet  wedlock's  the  devil." 

5. 
This  terrible  truth,  even  Scripture  has  told,* 

Ye  Benedicks  !  hear  me,  and  listen  with  rapture ; 
If  a  glimpse  of  redemption  you  wish  to  behold, 

Of  St.  Matt. — read  the  second  and  twentieth  chapter. 

6. 

'Tis  surely  enough  upon  earth  to  be  vex'd. 

With  wives  who  eternal  confusion  are  spreading ; 

*'  But  in  Heaven  "  (so  runs  the  Evangelists'  Text) 
"  We  neither  have  giving  in  marriage,  or  wedding." 

7. 
From  this  we  suppose,  (as  indeed  well  we  may,) 

That  should  Saints  after  death,  with  their  spouses  put 
And  wives,  as  in  life,  aim  at  absolute  sway,        [up  more, 

All  Heaven  would  ring  with  the  conjugal  uproar. 

8. 
Distraction  and  Discord  would  follow  in  course. 

Nor  Matthew,  nor  Mark,  nor  St.  Paul,  can  deny  it, 

i.  But  I  can't [410] 

I.  [Stanzas  5-10,  which  appear  in  the  Quarto,  were  never 
reprinted.] 


THE   TEAR.  49 

The  only  expedient  is  general  divorce, 
To  prevent  universal  disturbance  and  riot. 

9. 

But  though  husband  and  wife,  shall  at  length  be  disjoin'd, 
Yet  woman  and  man  ne'er  were  meant  to  dissever, 

Our  chains  once  dissolved,  and  our  hearts  unconfin'd, 
We'll  love  without  bonds,  but  we'll  love  you  for  ever. 

10. 

Though  souls  are  denied  you  by  fools  and  by  rakes, 
Should  you  own  it  yourselves,  I  would  even  then  doubt 

Your  nature  so  much  of  celestial  partakes,  [yo"i 

The  Garden  of  Eden  would  wither  without  you. 

Southwell,  October  9,  1806. 


THE  TEAR. 

O  lachrymarum  fons,  tenero  sacros 
Ducentium  ortus  ex  animo  ;  quater 
Felix  !  in  imo  qui  scatentem 
Pectore  te,  pia  Nympha,  sensit.' 

Gray,  Alcaic  Fragment. 

I. 

When  Friendship  or  Love 
Our  sympathies  move ; 
When  Truth,  in  a  glance,  should  appear, 

I.  [The  motto  was  prefixed  m  Hours  of  Idleness.'] 
VOL.  I.  E 


50  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

The  lips  may  beguile, 
With  a  dimple  or  smile, 
Cut  the  test  of  affection's  a  Tear, 

2, 

Too  oft  is  a  smile 

But  the  hypocrite's  wile, 

To  mask  detestation,  or  fear ; 
Give  me  the  soft  sigh, 
Whilst  the  soul-telling  eye 

Is  dimm'd,  for  a  time,  with  a  Tear» 

3- 

Mild  Charity's  glow, 

To  us  mortals  below, 
Shows  the  soul  from  barbarity  clear  ; 

Compassion  will  melt, 

Where  this  virtue  is  felt, 
And  its  dew  is  diffused  in  a  Tear, 

4. 

The  man,  doom'd  to  sail 
With  the  blast  of  the  gale. 

Through  billow^s  Atlantic  to  steer, 
As  he  bends  o'er  the  wave 
Which  may  soon  be  his  grave, 

The  green  sparkles  bright  with  a  Tear. 


THE    TEAR.  5 1 

The  Soldier  braves  death 

For  a  fanciful  wreath 
In  Glory's  romantic  career ; 

But  he  raises  the  foe 

When  in  battle  laid  low, 
And  bathes  every  wound  with  a  Tear. 


If,  with  high-bounding  pride,' 

He  return  to  his  bride  ! 
Renouncing  the  gore-crimson'd  spear ; 

All  his  toils  are  repaid 

When,  embracing  the  maid, 
From  her  eyelid  he  kisses  the  Tea7\ 

7. 

Sweet  scene  of  my  youth  !  ^ 

Seat  of  Friendship  and  Truth, 
Where  Love  chas'd  each  fast-fleeting  year ; 

Loth  to  leave  thee,  I  mourn'd, 

For  a  last  look  I  turn'd. 
But  thy  spire  was  scarce  seen  through  a  Tear 


When  with  high-bounding  pride^ 
He  returns . — [410] 

I.  [Harrow.] 


\2  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

8. 

Though  my  vows  I  can  pour, 

To  my  Mary  no  more,^ 
My  Mary,  to  Love  once  so  dear, 

In  the  shade  of  her  bow'r, 

I  remember  the  hour, 
She  rewarded  those  vows  with  a  Tear. 

9- 

By  another  possest, 

May  she  Uve  ever  blest ! 
Her  name  still  my  heart  must  revere : 

With  a  sigh  I  resign, 

What  I  once  thought  was  mine, 
And  forgive  her  deceit  with  a  Tear, 

lO. 

Ye  friends  of  my  heart, 

Ere  from  you  I  depart, 
This  hope  to  my  breast  is  most  near  : 

If  again  we  shall  meet, 

In  this  rural  retreat, 
May  we  mee^,  as  we  par^,  with  a  Tear. 

II. 

AMien  my  soul  wings  her  flight 
To  the  regions  of  night, 
And  my  corse  shall  recline  on  its  bier ;  ^ 
i.  And  my  body  shall  sleep  on  its  bier. — [4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.  \ 
I.  [Aliss  Chaworth  was  married  in  1805.] 


REPLY   TO   SOME   VERSES   OF   J.    M.    C.    PIGOT,    ESQ.      53 

As  ye  pass  by  the  tomb, 
Where  my  ashes  consume, 
Oh  !  moisten  their  dust  with  a  Tiaj\ 

12. 

May  no  marble  bestow 

The  splendour  of  woe. 
Which  the  children  of  Vanity  rear ; 

No  fiction  of  fame 

Shall  blazon  my  name, 
All  I  ask,  all  I  wish,  is  a  Tear. 

Oclober  26,  i8o6.'- 


REPLY  TO   SOME  VERSES  OF  J.  M.  B.  PIGOT, 
ESQ.,  ON  THE  CRUELTY  OF  HIS  MISTRESS.^ 

I. 

Why,  Pigot,  complain 

Of  this  damsel's  disdain. 
Why  thus  in  despair  do  you  fret  ? 

For  months  you  may  try. 

Yet,  believe  me,  a  sigh  "• 
Will  never  obtain  a  coquette. 

i.  Byron,  October  26,  1806.— [4to] 
ii.  But  believe  me. — [410] 

I.  [The  letters  "  C.  B.  F.  J.  B.  M."  are  added,  in  a  lady's 
hand,  in  the  annotated  copy  of  P.  oil  K  Occasions,  p.  14 
{British  A  fas  earn).] 


54  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

Would  you  teach  her  to  love  ? 

For  a  tuTie  seem  to  rove ; 
At  first  she  m2iy  frow7i  in  a/<?// 

But  leave  her  awhile, 

She  shortly  will  smile, 
And  then  you  may  kiss  your  coquett. 

3. 

For  such  are  the  airs 
Of  these  fanciful  fairs, 

They  think  all  our  homage  a  debt: 
Yet  a  partial  neglect  *• 
Soon  takes  an  effect. 

And  humbles  the  proudest  coquette. 

4. 
Dissemble  your  pain, 
And  lengthen  your  chain, 

And  seem  her  hauteiLr  to  regret;''- 
If  again  you  shall  sigh, 
She  no  more  will  deny. 

That  yours  is  the  rosy  coqtiette. 


i.  But  a  partial. — [4tol 

ii.  AW  seem. — [410.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 


REPLY   TO   SOME   VERSES   OF   J.    M.    B.    PIGOT,    ESQ.      55 


If  Still,  from  false  pride,'- 

Your  pangs  she  deride, 
This  whimsical  virgin  forget ; 

Some  other  admire, 

Who  will  melt  with  yoiir/r<?, 
And  laugh  at  the  little  coquette, 

6. 

For  me^  I  adore 

Some  twenty  or  more, 
And  love  them  most  dearly ;  but  yet, 

Though  my  heart  they  enthral, 

I'd  abandon  them  all, 
Did  they  act  like  your  blooming  coquette. 


No  longer  repine. 

Adopt  this  design,'*- 
And  break  through  her  slight-woven  net 

Away  with  despair. 

No  longer  forbear 
To  fly  from  the  captious  coquette. 


i.  BJit  if  from  false  pride.— [<^i6\ 
ii.  Bui  form  this  design. — [410] 


56  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

8. 

Then  quit  her,  my  friend  ! 

Your  bosom  defend, 
Ere  quite  with  her  snares  you're  beset : 

Lest  your  deep-wounded  heart, 

When  incens'd  by  the  smart, 
Should  lead  you  to  airse  the  coquette. 

October  2^,  i8o6.'- 


GRANTA.     A  MEDLEY. 

*Apyvpeais  Xoyxaiai  fidxov  Koi  itavra  Kpar-fiffeis.^ 
[Reply  of  the  Pythian  Oracle  to  Philip  of  Macedon,] 


Oh  !  could  Le  Sage's  ^  demon's  gift 

Be  realis'd  at  my  desire, 
This  night  my  trembling  form  he'd  lift 

To  place  it  on  St.  Mary's  spire.'** 


i.  Byron,  October  2^^  i8o6. — [410] 
ii.  A7id ptace  it. — [4to] 

1.  [The  motto  was  prefixed  in  Hours  of  Idteness. 

("  Fight  with  silver  spears  "  {i.e.  with  bribes),  "  and  thou 
shalt  prevail  in  all  things.")] 

2.  The  Diable  Boiteux  of  Le  Sage,  where  Asmodeus,  the 
demon,  places  Don  Cleofas  on  an  elevated  situation,  and 
unroofs  the  houses  for  inspection.  [Don  Cleofas,  cHnging  to 
the  cloak  of  Asmodeus,  is  carried  through  the  air  to  the 
summit  of  S.  Salvador.] 


GRANTA.      A   MEDLEY.  57 

2. 

Then  would,  unroof'd,  old  Granta's  halls, 

Pedantic  inmates  full  display ; 
Fellows  who  dream  on  lawn  or  stalls^ 

The  price  of  venal  votes  to  pay.'- 

3. 
Then  would  I  view  each  rival  wight, 

Petty  and  Palmerston  survey ; 
Who  canvass  there,  with  all  their  might,"- 

Against  the  next  elective  day.^ 

4. 
Lo  !  candidates  and  voters  lie  "'• 

All  luird  in  sleep,  a  goodly  number ! 
A  race  renown'd  for  piety, 

Whose  conscience  won't  disturb  their  slumber. 

5. 
Lord  H ^  indeed,  may  not  demur; 

Fellows  are  sage,  reflecting  men : 
They  know  preferment  can  occur, 

But  very  seldom, — now  and  then, 

i.    The  price  of  hireling. — [4to]  ii.    Who  canvass  now. — [4to] 

iii.   One  on  his  power  and  place  depends, 

The  other  on — the  Lord  knows  what! 
Each  to  some  eloquence  pretends, 
But  neither  will  convince  by  that. 

The  first,  indeed,  may  not  demur  ; 

FelloT.us  are  sage  reflecting  men,  etc. 
And  hioio. — [4to.     F.  on  V.  Occasions. "X 

1.  [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.] 

2.  [Probably  Lord  Henry  Petty.     See  variant  iii.] 


58  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


They  know  the  Chancellor  has  got 

Some  pretty  livings  in  disposal : 
Each  hopes  that  07ie  may  be  his  lot^ 

And,  therefore,  smiles  on  his  proposal.*- 

7. 
Now  from  the  soporific  scene  "• 

I'll  turn  mine  eye,  as  night  grows  later, 
To  view,  unheeded  and  unseen,"'- 

The  studious  sons  of  Alma  Mater. 

8. 

There,  in  apartments  small  and  damp, 

The  candidate  for  college  prizes. 
Sits  poring  by  the  midnight  lamp ; 

Goes  late  to  bed,  yet  early  rises.,*''' 

9. 

He  surely  well  deserves  to  gain  them, 
With  all  the  honours  of  his  college,''- 

Who,  striving  hardly  to  obtain  them, 
Thus  seeks  unprofitable  knowledge  : 

i.  And  therefore  smiles  at  his. — [4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions. \ 
ii.  Now  from  Corruption's  shameless  scene. — 

[4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
iii.  And  view  unseen. — [4to] 

iv.  and  early  rises. — [4 to] 

V.  Ajid  all  the. — [410] 


GRANTA.       A    MEDLEY.  59 

10. 

Who  sacrifices  hours  of  rest, 

To  scan  precisely  metres  Attic ; 
Or  agitates  his  anxious  breast,'- 

In  solving  problems  mathematic : 

II. 

Who  reads  false  quantities  in  Seale,^ 
Or  puzzles  o'er  the  deep  triangle ; 

Depriv'd  of  many  a  wholesome  meal ;  ''• 
In  barbarous  La  fin "-  doom'd  to  wrangle : 


12. 

Renouncing  every  pleasing  page, 

From  authors  of  historic  use ; 
Preferring  to  the  letter'd  sage, 

The  square  of  the  hypothenuse.^ 

i .  And  agitates. — [4to] 

ii.  And  robs  himself  of  many  a  meal. — [4to] 

1.  Scale's  publication  on  Greek  Metres  displays  consider- 
able talent  and  ingenuity,  but,  as  might  be  expected  in  so 
difficult  a  work,  is  not  remarkable  for  accuracy.  \^An 
Analysis  of  the  Greek  Metres ;  for  the  use  of  students  at  the 
University  of  Cambridge.  By  John  Barlow  Scale  (1764),  8vo. 
A  fifth  edition  was  issued  in  1807.] 

2.  The  Latin  of  the  schools  is  of  the  ca7iine  species,  and 
not  very  intelligible. 

3.  The  discovery  of  Pythagoras,  that  the  square  of  the 
hypothenuse  is  equal  to  the  squares  of  the  other  two  sides  of 
a  right-angled  triangle. 


6o  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

13- 

Still,  harmless  are  these  occupations,'- 
That  hurt  none  but  the  hapless  student, 

Compar'd  with  other  recreations, 

Which  bring  together  the  impmdent ; 

14. 

Whose  daring  revels  shock  the  sight, 
When  vice  and  infamy  combine. 

When  Dnmkenness  and  dice  invite,' 
As  every  sense  is  steep'd  in  wine. 

15. 

Not  so  the  methodistic  crew. 
Who  plans  of  reformation  lay : 

In  humble  attitude  they  sue. 
And  for  the  sins  of  others  pray : 

16. 

Forgetting  that  their  pride  of  spirit, 
Their  exultation  in  their  trial,"^ 

Detracts  most  largely  from  the  merit 
Of  all  their  boasted  self-denial. 


i.  But  harmless  are  these  occupations 

Which.— \a,\.6\ 
ii.  When  Drunkenness  and  dice  unite. 

And  every  sense. — [410,     P.  on  V.  Occasions.^ 
iii.  And  exultation. — [4to] 


GRANTA.      A   MEDLEY.  6l 

'Tis  morn  : — from  these  I  turn  my  sight : 
What  scene  is  this  which  meets  the  eye  ? 

A  numerous  crowd  array'd  in  white,^ 
Across  the  green  in  numbers  fly. 

18. 
Loud  rings  in  air  the  chapel  bell ; 

'Tis  hush'd  : — what  sounds  are  these  I  hear  ? 
The  organ's  soft  celestial  swell 

Rolls  deeply  on  the  listening  ear. 

19. 

To  this  is  join'd  the  sacred  song, 
The  royal  minstrel's  hallow'd  strain ; 

Though  Jie  who  hears  the  music  long,*- 
Will  never  wish  to  hear  again, 

20. 
Our  choir  would  scarcely  be  excus'd, 

E'en  as  a  band  of  raw  beginners ; 
All  mercy,  now,  must  be  refus'd  "• 

To  such  a  set  of  croaking  sinners. 

21. 

If  David,  when  his  toils  were  ended, 

Had  heard  these  blockheads  sing  before  him, 

i.  Buthe.—\^\6\ 
ii.  But  mercy. — [410] 

I.  On  a  saint's  day  the  students  wear  surplices  in  chapel. 


62  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

To  US  his  psalms  had  ne'er  descended, — 
In  furious  mood  he  would  have  tore  'em. 

22. 

The  luckless  Israelites,  when  taken 

By  some  inhuman  tyrant's  order, 
Were  ask'd  to  sing,  by  joy  forsaken, 

On  Babylonian  river's  border. 

23- 

Oh  !  had  they  sung  in  notes  like  these  '• 

Inspir'd  by  stratagem  or  fear, 
They  might  have  set  their  hearts  at  ease. 

The  devil  a  soul  had  stay'd  to  hear. 

24. 

But  if  I  scribble  longer  now,"- 

The  deuce  a  soul  will  stay  to  read ; 

My  pen  is  blunt,  my  ink  is  low  \ 
'Tis  almost  time  to  stop^  indeed, 

25. 

Therefore,  farewell,  old  Grantds  spires  ! 

No  more,  like  Cleofas,  I  fly ; 
No  more  thy  theme  my  Muse  inspires  : 

The  reader's  tir'd,  and  so  am  I. 

October  28,  1806. 

i.    But  had  they  sung.  —  [4to] 

ii.  But  if  I  write  jmich  longer  now. — [4to.     P.  on  V.  Occasions. '\ 


TO   THE   SIGHING   STREPHON.  63 


TO   THE  SIGHING  STREPHON.^ 

I. 

Your  pardon,  my  friend, 

If  my  rhymes  did  offend, 
Your  pardon,  a  thousand  times  o'er ; 

From  friendship  I  strove, 

Your  pangs  to  remove. 
But,  I  swear,  I  will  do  so  no  more. 

2. 

Since  your  beautiftd  maid, 

Your  flame  has  repaid. 
No  more  I  your  folly  regret ; 

She's  now  most  divine. 

And  I  bow  at  the  shrine, 
Of  this  quickly  reformed  coquette. 


'J 

I  should  never  have  known. 
From  your  verses^  what  else  she  deserv'd ; 


1.  But  still.— \_A'^o\ 

I.  [The  letters  "J.  M.  B.  P."  are  added,  in  a  lady's  hand, 
in  the  annotated  copy  of  P.  on  V.  Occasions ^  p.  17  {British 
Musemn)i\ 


64  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Your  pain  seem'd  so  great, 
I  pitied  your  fate, 
As  your  fair  was  so  dev'lish  reserv'd. 

4. 

Since  the  balm-breathing  kiss** 

Of  this  magical  Miss, 
Can  such  wonderful  transports  produce  ', " 

Since  the  "  world  you  forget^ 

When  your  lips  once  have  met" 
My  counsel  will  get  but  abuse. 

5- 
You  say,  "  When  I  rove," 
"  I  know  nothing  of  love ;  " 

'Tis  true,  I  am  given  to  range; 
If  I  rightly  remember, 
I've  lov'd  a  good  number ;  "■• 

Yet  there's  pleasure,  at  least,  in  a  change, 

6. 

I  will  not  advance,''" 
By  the  rules  of  romance, 
To  humour  a  whimsical  fair ; 

i.  Btit  since  the  chaste  kiss. — [4to] 
ii.  Suck  wonderful. — [4to] 
iii.  Vve  kissed  a  good  number. — [4to] 

But 

iv.  I  n^er  will  advance. — [4tol 


TO   THE    SIGHING   STREPHON.  65 

Though  a  smile  may  delight, 
Yet  2ifrow7i  will  affright'^' 
Or  drive  me  to  dreadful  despair. 

7. 

While  my  blood  is  thus  warm, 

I  ne'er  shall  reform, 
To  mix  in  the  Platonists'  school ; 

Of  this  I  am  sure, 

Was  my  Passion  so  pure, 
Thy  Mistress  would  think  me  a  fool/'- 

And  if  I  should  shun, 

Every  woman  for  one^ 
AVhose  ijnage  must  fill  my  whole  breast ; 

Whom  I  must/r^;-. 

And  sigh  but  for  her^ 
Wliat  an  visult  'twould  be  to  the  rest  I 

9. 

Now  Strephon,  good-bye ; 
I  cannot  deny, 
\oy\x  passio7i  appears  most  absurd  • 

i.  Fif/ a  frown  w^«V  affright. — [4to.  P  on  V.  Occasions. '\ 
ii.  My  mistress  must  thifik  me. — [4to.  P.  on  V.  Occasio?ts.] 
iii.  Though  the  kisses  are  szveet, 

Which  volupttiously  meet, 
0/  kissing  I  ne'er  tvas  so  fond. 
As  to  make  me  forget. 
Though  our  lips  oft  have  met. 
That  still  there  was  something  beyond. — [410] 

VOL.  I.  F 


66  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Such  love  as  you  plead, 
Is  pure  love,  indeed. 
For  it  only  consists  in  the  word. 


THE   CORNELIAN.^ 
I. 

No  specious  splendour  of  this  stone 

Endears  it  to  my  memoiy  ever ; 
With  lustre  07ily  o?ice  it  shone, 

And  blushes  modest  as  the  giver.** 

2. 

Some,  who  can  sneer  at  friendship's  ties. 

Have,  for  my  weakness,  oft  reprov'd  me ; 
Yet  still  the  simple  gift  I  prize, 

For  I  am  sure,  the  giver  lov'd  me. 

3. 

He  offer'd  it  with  downcast  look, 

K^ fearful \h2it  I  might  refuse  it; 
I  told  him,  when  the  gift  I  took, 

My  07ily  fear  should  be,  to  lose  it. 

i.  But  blushes  modest. — [4to] 

I.  [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, 
181 1.  (See  letter  from  Byron  to  Miss  Pigot,  October  28, 
1 81 1.)  Their  acquaintance  began  by  Byron  saving  him 
from  drowning.     (MS.  note  by  the  Rev.  W.  Harness.)] 


THE    CORNELIAN.  67 

4. 

This  pledge  attentively  I  view'd, 

And  sparklifig  as  I  held  it  near, 
Methought  one  drop  the  stone  bedew'd, 

And,  ever  since,  Fve  lov'd  a  tea?; 

5. 

Still,  to  adorn  his  humble  youth, 

Nor  wealth  nor  birth  their  treasures  yield ; 
But  he,  who  seeks  the  flowers  of  truth, 

Must  quit  the  garden,  for  the  field. 

6. 

'Tis  not  the  plant  uprear'd  in  sloth. 

Which  beauty  shews,  and  sheds  perfume ; 

The  flowers,  which  yield  the  most  of  both, 
In  Nature's  wild  luxuriance  bloom. 

7. 
Had  Fortune  aided  Nature's  care. 

For  once  forgetting  to  be  blind, 
His  would  have  been  an  ample  share. 

If  well  proportioned  to  his  mind. 

8. 

But  had  the  Goddess  clearly  seen, 
His  form  had  fix'd  her  fickle  breast ; 

Her  countless  hoards  would  his  have  been, 
And  none  remain'd  to  give  the  rest. 


6S  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS, 


TO   M- 


Oh  !  did  those  eyes,  instead  of  fire, 
With  bright,  but  mild  affection  shine : 

Though  they  might  kindle  less  desire, 
Love,  more  than  mortal,  would  be  thine. 

2. 

For  thou  art  form'd  so  heavenly  fair, 
Howe'er  those  orbs  may  wildly  beam, 

We  must  admire^  but  still  despair ; 
That  fatal  glance  forbids  esteem. 

3. 

Wlien  Nature  stamp'd  thy  beauteous  birth, 
So  much  perfection  in  thee  shone. 

She  fear'd  that,  too  divine  for  earth. 

The  skies  might  claim  thee  for  their  own. 

4. 
Therefore,  to  guard  her  dearest  work, 

Lest  angels  might  dispute  the  prize. 
She  bade  a  secret  lightning  lurk. 

Within  those  once  celestial  eyes, 

i.  To  A .— f4to] 


TO   M 

These  might  the  boldest  Sylph  appall, 
When  gleaming  with  meridian  blaze ; 

Thy  beauty  must  enrapture  all ; 

But  who  can  dare  thine  ardent  gaze  ? 


'Tis  said  that  Berenice's  hair, 

In  stars  adorns  the  vault  of  heaven  ; 

But  they  would  ne'er  permit  thee  there, 
Thou  wouldst  so  far  outshine  the  seven. 

7. 

For  did  those  eyes  as  planets  roll, 
Thy  sister-lights  would  scarce  appear  : 

E'en  suns,  which  systems  now  controul, 
Would  twinkle  dimly  through  their  sphere.^ 

Friday ^  November  7,  1806. 

"  Two  of  the  fairest  stars  in  all  the  heaven, 
Having  some  business,  do  intreat  her  eyes 
To  twinkle  in  their  spheres  till  they  return." 

Shakespeare. 


HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


LINES  ADDRESSED  TO   A  YOUNG   LADY.^ 

[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.]  ^ 

I. 

Doubtless,  sweet  girl !  the  hissing  lead. 
Wafting  destruction  o'er  thy  charms  '• 

And  hurtling  o'er  ^  thy  lovely  head, 
Has  fiU'd  that  breast  with  fond  alarms. 

2. 

Surely  some  envious  Demon's  force, 
Vex'd  to  behold  such  beauty  here. 

Impell'd  the  bullet's  viewless  course, 
Diverted  from  its  first  career. 

i.  near  thy  charms. — [410.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.^ 

1.  [This  title  first  appeared  in  "Contents"  to  P.  on  V. 
Occasions."] 

2.  [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  "  To  a  Vain 
Lady  "  and  "  To  Anne."  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  monu- 
ment may  be  seen  in  Hucknall  Torkard  Church.] 

3.  This  word  is  used  by  Gray  in  his  poem  to  the  Fatal 
Sisters  : — 

"  Iron-sleet  of  arrowy  shower 
Hurtles  in  the  darken'd  air." 


LINES   ADDRESSED   TO   A   YOUNG   LADY.  7' 

3- 

Yes  !  in  that  nearly  fatal  hour, 

The  ball  obey'd  some  hell-born  guide; 

But  Heaven,  with  interposing  power, 
In  pity  turn'd  the  death  aside. 

4- 
Yet,  as  perchance  one  trembling  tear 

Upon  that  thrilling  bosom  fell ; 
Which  /,  th'  unconscious  cause  of  fear, 

Extracted  from  its  glistening  cell  ;— 

5- 
Say,  what  dire  penance  can  atone 

For  such  an  outrage,  done  to  thee  ? 
Arraign'd  before  thy  beauty's  throne, 

What  punishment  wilt  thou  decree  ? 

6. 

Might  I  perfomi  the  Judge's  part. 

The  sentence  I  should  scarce  deplore ; 

It  only  would  restore  a  heart, 

Which  but  belong'd  to  thee  before. 

7- 

The  least  atonement  I  can  make 

Is  to  become  no  longer  free  ; 
Henceforth,  I  breathe  but  for  thy  sake, 

Thou  shalt  be  all  in  all  to  me. 


72  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

8. 

But  thou,  perhaps,  may'st  now  reject 

Such  expiation  of  my  guilt ; 
Come  then — some  other  mode  elect  ? 

Let  it  be  death — or  what  thou  wilt. 

9- 

Choose,  then,  relentless !  and  I  swear 
Nought  shall  thy  dread  decree  prevent ; 

Yet  hold — one  little  word  forbear ! 
Let  it  be  aught  but  banishment. 


TRANSLATION   FROM  CATULLUS. 

AD    LESBIAM. 

Equal  to  Jove  that  youth  must  be— - 
Greater  than  Jove  he  seems  to  me — 
Who,  free  from  Jealousy's  alarms, 
Securely  views  thy  matchless  charms ; 
That  cheek,  which  ever  dimpling  glows, 
That  mouth,  from  whence  such  music  flows, 
To  him,  alike,  are  always  known, 
Reserv'd  for  him,  and  him  alone. 
Ah  !  Lesbia  !  though  'tis  death  to  me, 
I  cannot  choose  but  look  on  thee  ; 


TRANSLATION    OF    DOMITIUS    MARSUS.  73 

But,  at  the  sight,  my  senses  fly, 

I  needs  must  gaze,  but,  gazing,  die ; 

Whilst  trembling  with  a  thousand  fears, 

Parch'd  to  the  throat  my  tongue  adheres. 

My  pulse  beats  quick,  my  breath  heaves  short, 

My  limbs  deny  their  slight  support; 

Cold  dews  my  pallid  face  o'erspread, 

With  deadly  languor  droops  my  head. 

My  ears  with  tingling  echoes  ring, 

And  Life  itself  is  on  the  wing ; 

My  eyes  refuse  the  cheering  light, 

Their  orbs  are  veil'd  in  starless  night : 

Such  pangs  my  nature  sinks  beneath, 

And  feels  a  temporary  death. 


TRANSLATION  OF  THE  EPITAPH  ON  VIRGIL 
AND  TIBULLUS,  BY  DOMITIUS  MARSUS. 

He  who,  sublime,  in  epic  numbers  roll'd. 
And  he  who  struck  the  softer  lyre  of  Love, 

By  Death's  unequal  ^  hand  alike  controul'd, 
Fit  comrades  in  Elysian  regions  move  ! 

I.  The  hand  of  Death  is  said  to  be  unjust  or  unequal,  as 
Virgil  was  considerably  older  than  TibuUus  at  his  decease. 


74  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

IMITATION   OF   TIBULLUS. 

SULPICIA    AD    CERINTHUM    (lIB.    QUART.). 

Cruel  Cerinthus  !  does  the  fell  disease  '• 
Which  racks  my  breast  your  fickle  bosom  please  ? 
Alas  !  I  wish'd  but  to  o'ercome  the  pain, 
That  I  might  live  for  Love  and  you  again ; 
But,  now,  I  scarcely  shall  bewail  my  fate  : 
By  Death  alone  I  can  avoid  your  hate. 


TRANSLATION    FROM   CATULLUS. 

LUGETE   VENERES    CUPIDINESQUE    (CARM.    IIL)."' 

Ye  Cupids,  droop  each  little  head, 
Nor  let  your  wings  with  joy  be  spread, 
My  Lesbia's  favourite  bird  is  dead, 

Whom  dearer  than  her  eyes  she  lov'd  :  *"• 
For  he  was  gentle,  and  so  true, 
Obedient  to  her  call  he  flew, 
No  fear,  no  wild  alarm  he  knew, 

But  lightly  o'er  her  bosom  mov'd  : 

i, does  this  fell  disease. — [410.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.'] 

ii.  Luctus  De  Morte  Passeris,—\\\.Q.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
in.    JF/tic/i  dearer. — [410] 


IMITATED    FROM    CATULLUS.  75 

And  softly  fluttering  here  and  there, 
He  never  sought  to  cleave  the  air, 
He  chirrup'd  oft,  and,  free  from  care,*- 

Tun'd  to  her  ear  his  grateful  strain. 
Now  having  pass'd  the  gloomy  bourn,"- 
From  whence  he  never  can  return, 
His  death,  and  Lesbia's  grief  I  mourn, 

Who  sighs,  alas  !  but  sighs  in  vain. 

Oh  !  curst  be  thou,  devouring  grave  1 
Whose  jaws  eternal  victims  crave, 
From  whom  no  earthly  power  can  save, 

For  thou  hast  ta'en  the  bird  away : 
From  thee  my  Lesbia's  eyes  o'erflow. 
Her  swollen  cheeks  with  weeping  glow ; 
Thou  art  the  cause  of  all  her  woe, 

Refceptacle  of  life's  decay. 


IMITATED   FROM    CATULLUS.^ 

TO    ELLEN.'"- 

Oh  !  might  I  kiss  those  eyes  of  fire, 
A  million  scarce  would  quench  desire ; 

i.  But  chirnifd. — [410] 
ii.  Btit  jtmv  he's  fass''d. — [410] 
iii.    To  An7ia.  —  {^\.o\ 

I.  [From  a  note  in  Byron's  copy  of  Catullus  (now  in  tlic 
possession  of  Mr.  Murray),  it  is  evident  that  these  lines  are 
based  on  Carm.  xlviii.,  Mcllitos  ociilos  tuos,  Juventi?^ 


76  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Still  would  I  steep  my  lips  in  bliss, 
And  dwell  an  age  on  every  kiss ; 
Nor  then  my  soul  should  sated  be, 
Still  would  I  kiss  and  cling  to  thee : 
Nought  should  my  kiss  from  thine  dissever, 
Still  would  we  kiss  and  kiss  for  ever ; 
E'en  though  the  numbers  did  exceed "' 
The  yellow  harvest's  countless  seed ; 
To  part  would  be  a  vain  endeavour : 
Could  I  desist  ? — ah  !  never — never. 

November  i6,  iSo6. 


© 


TO   M.  S.  G. 


I. 


Whene'er  I  view  those  lips  of  thine, 
Their  hue  invites  my  fervent  kiss ; 

Yet,  I  forego  that  bliss  divine, 
Alas  !  it  were — unhallow'd  bliss. 

2. 

Whene'er  I  dream  of  that  pure  breast, 
How  could  I  dwell  upon  its  snows ! 

Yet,  is  the  daring  wish  represt, 

For  that, — would  banish  its  repose. 

i.  E'en  though  the  immber. — [410.      Three  first  Editions. '\ 


TO    M.    S.    G.  77 

3- 

A  glance  from  thy  soul-searching  eye 
Can  raise  with  hope,  depress  with  fear ; 

Yet,  I  conceal  my  love, — and  why  ? 
I  would  not  force  a  painful  tear. 

4. 

I  ne'er  have  told  my  love,  yet  thou 
Hast  seen  my  ardent  flame  too  well ; 

And  shall  I  plead  my  passion  now, 
To  make  thy  bosom's  heaven  a  hell  ? 

5- 

No  !  for  thou  never  canst  be  mine, 

United  by  the  priest's  decree  : 
By  any  ties  but  those  divine, 

Mine,  my  belov'd,  thou  ne'er  shalt  be. 

6. 

Then  let  the  secret  fire  consume. 

Let  it  consume,  thou  shalt  not  know  : 

With  joy  I  court  a  certain  doom, 
Rather  than  spread  its  guilty  glow. 

7. 

I  will  not  ease  my  tortur'd  heart. 

By  driving  dove-ey'd  peace  from  thine ; 

Rather  than  such  a  sting  impart, 

Each  thought  presumptuous  I  resign. 


78  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

8. 

Yes !  yield  those  lips,  for  which  I'd  bmve 
More  than  I  here  shall  dare  to  tell ; 

Thy  innocence  and  mine  to  save, — • 
I  bid  thee  now  a  last  farewell. 

9- 

Yes  !  yield  that  breast,  to  seek  despair 
And  hope  no  more  thy  soft  embrace ; 

Which  to  obtain,  my  soul  would  dare, 
All,  all  reproach,  but  thy  disgrace. 

lO. 

At  least  from  guilt  shalt  thou  be  free. 
No  matron  shall  thy  shame  reprove  ; 

Though  cureless  pangs  may  prey  on  me, 
No  martyr  shalt  thou  be  to  love. 


STANZAS  TO   A   LADY,   WITH  THE   POEMS 
OF   CAMOENS.^ 

I. 

This  votive  pledge  of  fond  esteem, 

Perhaps,  dear  girl !  for  me  thou' It  prize ; 

It  sings  of  Love's  enchanting  dream, 
A  theme  we  never  can  despise. 

I.  [Lord  Strangford's  Poems  from  the  Portuguese  by  Lids 
de  Camocns  and  "  Little's"  Poems  are  mentioned  by  Moore 
as  having  been  Byron's  favourite  study  at  this  time  {Life, 
p.  39)-] 


TO    M.    S.    G.  79 

2. 

Who  blames  it  but  the  envious  fool, 

The  old  and  disappointed  maid  ? 
Or  pupil  of  the  prudish  school, 

In  single  sorrow  doom'd  to  fade  ? 

3. 

Then  read,  dear  Girl !  with  feeling  read, 
For  thou  wilt  ne'er  be  one  of  those ; 

To  thee,  in  vain,  I  shall  not  plead 
In  pity  for  the  Poet's  woes. 

4. 
He  was,  in  sooth,  a  genuine  Bard ; 

His  was  no  faint,  fictitious  flame  : 
Like  his,  may  Love  be  thy  reward, 

But  not  thy  hapless  fate  the  same. 


TO   M    S.  G.i 

I. 

When  I  dream  that  you  love  me,  you'll  surely  forgive 

Extend  not  your  anger  to  sleep  ; 
For  in  visions  alone  your  affection  can  live, — 

I  rise,  and  it  leaves  me  to  weep. 

I.  ["  G.  G.  B.  to  E.  F:'—AfS.  Neivstead.] 


8o  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


Then,  Morpheus  !  envelop  my  faculties  fast, 

Shed  o'er  me  your  languor  benign  ; 
Should  the  dream  of  to-night  but  resemble  the  last, 

What  rapture  celestial  is  mine  ! 

3- 

They  tell  us  that  slumber,  the  sister  of  death, 

Mortality's  emblem  is  given  ; 
To  fate  how  I  long  to  resign  my  frail  breath, 

If  this  be  a  foretaste  of  Heaven  ! 

4. 
Ah  !  frown  not,  sweet  Lady,  unbend  your  soft  brow, 

Nor  deem  me  too  happy  in  this ; 
If  I  sin  in  my  dream,  I  atone  for  it  now, 

Thus  doom'd,  but  to  gaze  upon  bliss. 

5- 

Though  in  visions,  sweet  Lady,  perliaps  you  may  smile, 

Oh  !  think  not  my  penance  deficient ! 
When  dreams  of  your  presence  my  slumbers  beguile, 

To  awake,  will  be  torture  sufficient. 


TRANSLATION  FROM  HORACE.  Si 


TRANSLATION   FROM   HORACE. 

[Justum  et  tenacem  propositi  virum. 

HoR.  Oi/es,  iii.  3.  i, 

I. 

The  man  of  firm  and  noble  soul 
No  factious  clamours  can  controul ; 
No  threat'ning  tyrant's  darkling  brow 

Can  swerve  him  from  his  just  intent : 
Gales  the  warring  waves  which  plough, 

By  Auster  on  the  billows  spent, 
To  curb  the  Adriatic  main, 
Would  awe  his  fix'd  determined  mind  in  vain. 


Aye,  and  the  red  right  arm  of  Jove, 
Hurtling  his  lightnings  from  above. 
With  all  his  terrors  there  unfurl'd. 

He  would,  unmov'd,  unaw'd,  behold ; 
The  flames  of  an  expiring  world. 
Again  in  crashing  chaos  roU'd, 
In  vast  promiscuous  ruin  hurl'd. 
Might  light  his  glorious  funeral  pile  : 
Still  dauntless  'midst  the  wreck  of  earth  he'd  smile. 

VOL.  I.  G 


82  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS, 


THE   FIRST   KISS   OF   LOVE. 

'A   /8ap)8tTOS  5e   x^'P^''-^^ 
''Epwra.  fiovvov  ^X^*-* 

Anacreon  {Ode  ij. 

I. 

Away  with  your  fictions  of  flimsy  romance, 

Those  tissues  of  falsehood  which  Folly  has  wove ;  '• 

Give  me  the  mild  beam  of  the  soul-breathing  glance, 
Or  the  rapture  which  dwells  on  the  first  kiss  of  love. 


Ye  rhymers,  whose  bosoms  with  fantasy  glow,"- 
Whose  pastoral  passions  are  made  for  the  grove ; 

From  what  blest  inspiration  your  sonnets  would  flow, 
Could  you  ever  have  tasted  the  first  kiss  of  love. 

3- 

If  Apollo  should  e'er  his  assistance  refuse, 

Or  the  Nine  be  dispos'd  from  your  service  to  rove, 

Invoke  them  no  more,  bid  adieu  to  the  Muse, 
And  try  the  effect,  of  the  first  kiss  of  love. 

i.  Moriah  ^  those  air  dreams  and  types  has  o'er  luove. — 

{MS.  A^eivstead.] 
Those  tissues  of  fancy  Moriah  has  wove. — [P.  on  V.  Occasions.^ 
ii.    Ye  rhymers^  who  sing  as  if  seated  on  snoiv. — 

{P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
iii.    IVith  7vhat  blest  inspiration. — {MS.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

1.  [The  motto  was  prefixed  in  Hours  of  Idleness i\ 

2.  Moriah  is  the  "  Goddess  of  Folly." 


THE    FIRST    KISS    OF    LOVE.  83 

4- 

I  hate  you,  ye  cold  compositions  of  art, 

Though  prudes  may  condemn  me,  and  bigots  reprove ; 
I  court  the  effusions  that  spring  from  the  heart, 

Which  throbs,  with  dehght,  to  the  first  kiss  of  love.'- 

5- 
Your  shepherds,  your  flocks,  those  fantastical  themes,"- 

Perhaps  may  amuse,  yet  they  never  can  move : 
Arcadia  displays  but  a  region  of  dreams ;  "'• 

What  are  visions  like  these,  to  the  first  kiss  of  love  ? 

6. 

Oh  !  cease  to  affirm  that  man,  since  his  birth,'""- 

From  Adam,  till  now,  has  with  wretchedness  strove ; 

Some  portion  of  Paradise  still  is  on  earth. 
And  Eden  revives,  in  the  first  kiss  of  love. 

7. 
When  age  chills  the  blood,  when  our  pleasures  are  past— 

For  years  fleet  a^^  ay  with  the  wings  of  the  dove — 
The  dearest  rememl)rance  will  still  be  the  last, 
Our  sweetest  memorial,  the  first  kiss  of  love. 

December  23,  1 806. 

i.  Which  gloii's  unth  delit^hl  at.— {MS.] 

ii.  Your  shepherds,  y  02a-  pi  pes. ~\MS.     P.  on  V.  Occasions. \ 

iii.  Arcadia  yields  but  a  legion  of  dreams. — [JAS".] 

iv.  that  man  from  his  birih.—\_MS.     P.  on  V.  Occasions.  \ 


84  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS, 


CHILDISH   RECOLLECTIONS.! 

*'  I  cannot  but  remember  such  things  were, 
And  were  most  dear  to  me." 

Macbeth? 

["  That  were  most  precious  to  me." — Macbeth^  act  iv.  sc.  3,  line 321.] 

When  slow  Disease,  with  all  her  host  of  Pains,' 

Chills  the  warm  tide,  which  flows  along  the  veins ; 

i.  Hence  I  thou  unvarying  song,  of  varied  loz'es, 
Which  youth  commends,  maturer  age  reproves  ; 
Which  every  rhyming  bard  repeats  by  rote. 
By  thousands  echo'd  to  the  self-same  note! 
Tir* d  of  the  dull ,  uficeasing,  copious  strain, 
My  soul  is  panting  to  be  free  again. 
FarriVelll  ye  nymphs,  propitious  to  my  verse, 
Some  other  Damon,  will  your  charms  rehearse  ; 
Some  other  paint  his  pangs,  in  hope  of  bliss. 
Or  dwell  in  i-apture  on  your  nectar' d  kiss. 
Those  beauties,  grateful  to  my  ardent  sight^ 
No  more  entrance  my  stnses  in  delight ; 
Those  bosoms,  form'' d  of  animated  snow, 
Alike  are  tasteless  and  unfeeling  noiu. 
These  to  some  happier  lover,  I  resign  ; 
The  memory  of  those  Joys  alone  is  mine. 
Cefisure  no  more  shall  brand  my  humble  namCy 
The  child  of  passion  and  the  fool  of  fame. 
Weary  of  love,  of  life,  devou?d  with  spleen, 
J  rest  a  perfect  Titnon,  not  nineteen  ; 
World!  I  renounce  thee!  all  tny  hope's  overcast! 
One  sigh  I  give  thee,  but  that  sigh's  the  last. 
FHends,  foes,  and  females,  notu  alike,  adieu  ! 
Would  I  could  add  remembrance  of  you,  too  ! 
Yet  though  the  future,  dark  and  cheerless  gleams^ 
The  curse  of  memory,  hovering  in  my  drearjis. 
Depicts  with  gloiving  pencil  all  those  years. 
Ere  yet,  my  cup,  empoisoned,  flow' d  with  tears ^ 
Still  rules  my  senses  with  tyrannic  sway. 
The  past  confounding  with  the  present  day. 

Alas  !  in  vain  I  check  the  maddening  thought ; 
It  still  recurs,  unlock'' d  for  and  unsought : 
My  soul  to  Fancy s,  etc.,  etc.,  as  at  line  29. — 

\P.  on  V.  Occasions,  p.  109,  J^.] 

1.  [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  "  On  a  Change  of  Masters," 
etc.,  July,  1805  (see  letter  to  W.  Bankes,  March  6,  1807).] 

2.  [The  motto  was  prefixed  in  Hours  of  Idleness.^ 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  85 

When  Health,  affrighted,  spreads  her  rosy  wing, 

And  flies  with  every  changing  gale  of  spring ; 

Not  to  the  aching  frame  alone  confin'd. 

Unyielding  pangs  assail  the  drooping  mind : 

What  grisly  forms,  the  spectre-train  of  woe. 

Bid  shuddering  Nature  shrink  beneath  the  blov/, 

With  Resignation  wage  relentless  strife. 

While  Hope  retires  appall'd,  and  clings  to  life.  lo 

Yet  less  the  pang  when,  through  the  tedious  hour. 

Remembrance  sheds  around  her  genial  power, 

Calls  back  the  vanish'd  days  to  rapture  given. 

When  Love  was  bliss,  and  Beauty  form'd  our  heaven ; 

Or,  dear  to  youth,  pourtrays  each  childish  scene, 

Those  fairy  bowers,  where  all  in  turn  have  been. 

As  when,  through  clouds  that  pour  the  summer  storm. 

The  orb  of  day  unveils  his  distant  form. 

Gilds  with  faint  beams  the  crystal  dews  of  rain 

And  dimly  twinkles  o'er  the  watery  plain ;  20 

Thus,  while  the  future  dark  and  cheerless  gleams. 

The  Sun  of  Memory,  glowing  through  my  dreams, 

Though  sunk  the  radiance  of  his  former  blaze, 

To  scenes  far  distant  points  his  paler  rays. 

Still  rules  my  senses  with  unbounded  sway, 

The  past  confounding  with  the  present  day. 

Oft  ioes  my  heart  indulge  the  rising  thought, 
Which  still  recurs,  unlook'd  for  and  unsought ; 
My  soul  to  Fancy's  fond  suggestion  yields, 


86  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

And  roams  romantic  o'er  her  airy  fields.  30 

Scenes  of  my  youth,  develop'd,  crowd  to  view, 

To  which  I  long  have  bade  a  last  adieu  ! 

Seats  of  delight,  inspiring  youthful  themes ; 

Friends  lost  to  me,  for  aye,  except  in  dreams ; 

Some,  who  in  marble  prematurely  sleep, 

Whose  forms  I  now  remember,  but  to  weep ; 

Some,  who  yet  urge  the  same  scholastic  course 

Of  early  science,  future  fame  the  source  • 

Who,  still  contending  in  the  studious  race, 

In  quick  rotation,  fill  the  senior  place  !  40 

These,  with  a  thousand  visions,  now  unite. 

To  dazzle,  though  they  please,  my  aching  sight.^ 

Ida  !  blest  spot,  where  Science  holds  her  reign, 
How  joyous,  once,  I  join'd  thy  youthful  train  ! 
Bright,  in  idea,  gleams  thy  lofty  spire. 
Again,  I  mingle  with  thy  playful  quire ; 
Our  tricks  of  mischief,^  every  childish  game, 
Unchang'd  by  time  or  distance,  seem  the  same ; 


r.  [Lines  43-98  were  added  in  Hours  of  Idleness.'] 
2.  [Newton  Hanson  relates  that  on  one  occasion  he  accom- 
panied his  father  to  Harrow  on  Speech  Day  to  see  his 
brother  Hargreaves  Hanson  and  Byron.  "  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 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  87 

Through  winding  paths,  along  the  glade  I  trace 

The  social  smile  of  every  welcome  face ;  50 

My  wonted  haunts,  my  scenes  of  joy  or  woe, 

Each  early  boyish  friend,  or  youthful  foe. 

Our  feuds  dissolv'd,  but  not  my  friendship  past, — 

I  bless  the  former,  and  forgive  the  last. 

Hours  of  my  youth  !  ^\  hen,  nurtur'd  in  my  breast, 

To  Love  a  stranger.  Friendship  made  me  blest, — 

Friendship,  the  dear  peculiar  bond  of  youth, 

When  every  artless  bosom  throbs  with  truth ; 

Untaught  by  worldly  wisdom  how  to  feign, 

And  check  each  impulse  with  prudential  rein  ;       60 

When,  all  we  feel,  our  honest  souls  disclose, 

In  love  to  friends,  in  open  hate  to  foes ; 

No  varnish'd  tales  the  lips  of  youth  repeat, 

No  dear-bought  knowledge  purchased  by  deceit ; 

Hypocrisy,  the  gift  of  lengthen'd  years. 

Matured  by  age,  the  garb  of  Prudence  wears  :  '• 

When,  now,  the  Boy  is  ripen'd  into  Man, 

His  careful  Sire  chalks  forth  some  wary  plan ; 

Instructs  his  Son  from  Candour's  path  to  shrink, 

Smoothly  to  speak,  and  cautiously  to  think ;  70 

Still  to  assent,  and  never  to  deny — 

A  patron's  praise  can  well  reward  the  lie : 

i.   Ciimiing  with  age. — \^MS.  Newstead.^ 

all  of  us  whilst,  during  the  day,  he  was  perambulating  the 
highways  and  bycways  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."] 


88  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

And  who,  when  Fortune's  warning  voice  is  heard, 
Would  lose  his  opening  prospects  for  a  word  ? 
Although,  against  that  word,  his  heart  rebel, 
And  Truth,  indignant,  all  his  bosom  swell. 

Away  with  themes  like  this  !  not  mine  the  task, 

From  flattering  friends  to  tear  the  hateful  mask ; 

Let  keener  bards  delight  in  Satire's  sting. 

My  Fancy  soars  not  on  Detraction's  wing :  80 

Once,  and  but  once,  she  aim'd  a  deadly  blow, 

To  hurl  Defiance  on  a  secret  Foe ; 

But  when  that  foe,  from  feeling  or  from  shame, 

The  cause  unknown,  yet  still  to  me  the  same, 

Warn'd  by  some  friendly  hint,  perchance,  retir'd, 

With  this  submission  all  her  rage  expired. 

From  dreaded  pangs  that  feeble  Foe  to  save. 

She  hush'd  her  young  resentment,  and  forgave. 

Or,  if  my  Muse  a  Pedant's  portrait  drew, 

PoMPOSUs'  ^  virtues  are  but  known  to  few  :  90 

I  never  fear'd  the  young  usurper's  nod, 

And  he  who  wields  must,  sometimes,  feel  the  rod. 

If  since  on  Granta's  failings,  known  to  all 

I.  [Dr.  Butler,  then  Head-master  of  Harrow.    Had  Byron 
published  another  edition  of  these  poems,  it  was  his  inten- 
tion to  replace  these  four  lines  by  the  four  which  follow  : — 
''''  If  07ice  7ny  vmse  a  harsher  portrait  drew, 

Warm  with  her  wrongs,  and  deemed  the  likeness  true, 
By  cooler  judgment  taught,  her  fault  she  owns, — 
With  noble  fninds  a  fault  confessed,  atones. '' — [MS.  M.] 

See  also  allusion  in  letter  to  Mr.  Henry  Drury,  June  25,  1809. 
— Moore's  A'ote.] 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  89 

Who  share  the  converse  of  a  college  hall, 
She  sometimes  trifled  in  a  lighter  strain, 
'Tis  past,  and  thus  she  will  not  sin  again ; 
Soon  must  her  early  song  for  ever  cease, 
And,  all  may  rail,  when  I  shall  rest  in  peace. 

Here,  first  remember'd  be  the  joyous  band, 
AVlio  hail'd  me  chief,^  obedient  to  command;       loo 
Who  join'd  with  me,  in  every  boyish  sport, 
Their  first  adviser,  and  their  last  resort ; 
Nor  shrunk  beneath  the  upstart  i3edant's  frown,*- 
Or  all  the  sable  glories  of  his  go^^^l ;  "• 
Who,  thus,  transplanted  from  his  father's  school, 
Unfit  to  govern,  ignorant  of  rule — 
Succeeded  him,  whom  all  unite  to  praise, 
The  dear  preceptor  of  my  early  days, 
Probus,^  the  pride  of  science,  and  the  boast — 
To  Ida  now,  alas  !  for  ever  lost !  no 

i.  Nor  shrunk  before. — {Hours  of  Idleness^ 
ii.   Careless  to  soothe  the  pedanfs  furious  frown  y 
Scarcely  respectitig  his  majesiic  goT.vn  ; 
By  which.,  in  vain.,  he  gained  a  borroid'd  grace^ 
Adding  7iew  terror  to  his  sneering  face. — 

[P.  on  V.  Occasions.'] 

1.  [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  Druiy  faction  said  to  Wildman,  "  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."  This  Wildman  did,  and  Byron  took 
the  command. — Life^  p.  29.] 

2.  Dr.  Drury.     This  most  able  and  excellent  man  retired 


90  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

With  him,  for  years,  we  search'd  the  classic  page,i- 
And  fear'd  the  Master,  though  we  lov'd  the  Sage : 
Retir'd  at  last,  his  small  yet  peaceful  seat 
From  learning's  labour  is  the  blest  retreat. 
PoMPOSUS  fills  his  magisterial  chair ; 
PoMPOSUs  governs, — but,  my  Muse,  forbear : 
Contempt,  in  silence,  be  the  pedant's  lot,"* 
His  name  and  precepts  be  alike  forgot ; 

i.   With  him  for  years  I  search' d  the  classic  page. 

Culling  the  treasures  of  the  lette7^d  sage. — [P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
ii.  Contempt,  iti  silence,  be  the  pedanfs  lot. 
Soon  shall  his  shallow  precepts  be  forgot ; 
No  more  his  fnention  shall  my  pen  degrade — 
My  tribute  to  his  7iamis  already  paid. — [/*.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
Another  variant  for  a  new  edition  ran — 
Another  fills  his  magisterial  chair  ; 
Reluctant  Ida  o^uns  a  stranger'' s  care  ; 
Oh!  may  like  ho7iours  crown  his  future  name: 
If  such  his  virtues,  such  shall  be  his  fame. — \^MS.  M.] 
from   his    situation   in    March,    1805,   after   having   resided 
thirty-five  years  at  HarroAv  ;  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.     Pane- 
g}Tic  would   here  be  superfluous  :    it  would   be  useless   to 
enumerate  qualifications  which  were  never  doubted.     A  con- 
siderable contest  took  place  between  three  rival  candidates 
for  his  vacant  chair  :  of  this  I  can  only  say — 

Si  vie  a  cum  vestris  vahtissoit  vol  a,  Pelasgi! 
Nonforet  mnbigmis  tanti  cet'tammis  hcBres. 

[Byron's  letters  from  Harrow  contain  the  same  high 
praise  of  Dr.  Drury.  In  one,  of  November  2,  1804,  he  says, 
"  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."  A  week  after,  he  adds,  "  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."  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."] 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  9I 

No  more  his  mention  shall  my  verse  degrade, — 

To  him  my  tribute  is  already  paid.^  120 

High,  through  those  elms  with  hoary  branches  crown'd ' 
Fair  Ida's  bower  adorns  the  landscape  round ; 
There  Science,  from  her  favour' d  seat,  surveys 
The  vale  where  rural  Nature  claims  her  praise  ; 
To  her  awhile  resigns  her  youthful  train, 
Who  move  in  joy,  and  dance  along  the  plain ; 

1.  This  alludes  to  a  character  printed  in  a  former  private 
edition  [P.  on  V.  Occasions']  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  insignifi- 
cance would  be  deservedly  reprobated  ;  and  another  reason, 
though  not  of  equal  consequence,  may  be  given  in  the 
following  couplet  : — 

"  Satire  or  sense,  alas  !  can  Spoms  feel  ? 
Who  breaks  a  Butterfly  upon  a  wheel  ? " 

Prologue  to  the  Satires :  Pope. 
{Hours  of  Idleness,  p.  154,  7iote^     [(See  the  lines  "On  a 
Change  of  Masters  at  a  Great  Pubhc  School,"  ajite,  p.  16.) 

The  following  lines,  attached  to  the  Newstead  MS.  draft  of 
"  Childish  Recollections,"  are  aimed  at  Pomposus  : — 
"  Just  half  a  Pedagogue,  and  half  a  Fop, 
Not  formed  to  grace  the  pulpit,  but  the  Shop  ; 
The  Counter,  not  the  Desk,  should  be  his  place, 
Who  deals  out  precepts,  as  if  dealing  Lace  ; 
Servile  in  mind,  from  Elevation  proud. 
In  argument,  less  sensible  than  loud, 
Through  half  the  continent,  the  Coxcomb's  been, 
And  stuns  you  with  the  Wonders  he  has  seen  : 
'  How  in  Pompeii's  vault  he  found  the  page. 
Of  some  long  lost,  and  long  lamented  Sage, 
And  doubtless  he  the  Letters  would  have  trac'd, 
Had  they  not  been  by  age  and  dust  effac'd  ;' 
This  single  specimen  will  serve  to  shew. 
The  weighty  lessons  of  this  reverend  Beau, 
Bombast  in  vain  would  want  of  Genius  cloke, 
For  feeble  fires  evaporate  in  smoke  ; 
A  Boy,  o'er  Boys  he  holds  a  trembling  reign. 
More  fit  than  they  to  seek  some  School  again."] 

2.  [Lines  12 1-2 13  were  added  in  Hours  of  Idleness.'] 


92  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

In  scatter'd  groups,  each  favour'd  haunt  pursue, 

Repeat  old  pastimes,  and  discover  new ; 

Flush'd  with  his  rays,  beneath  the  noontide  Sun, 

In  rival  bands,  between  the  wickets  run,  130 

Drive  o'er  the  sward  the  ball  with  active  force. 

Or  chase  with  nimble  feet  its  rapid  course. 

But  these  with  slower  steps  direct  their  way. 

Where  Brent's  cool  waves  in  limpid  currents  stray, 

While  yonder  few  search  out  some  green  retreat, 

And  arbours  shade  them  from  the  summer  heat : 

Others,  again,  a  pert  and  lively  crew. 

Some  rough  and  thoughtless  stranger  plac'd  in  view, 

With  frolic  quaint  their  antic  jests  expose, 

And  tease  the  grumbling  rustic  as  he  goes ;  140 

Nor  rest  with  this,  but  many  a  passing  fray 

Tradition  treasures  for  a  future  day  : 

"  'Twas  here  the  gather'd  swains  for  vengeance  fought, 

And  here  we  earn'd  the  conquest  dearly  bought ;  ^ 

Here  have  we  fled  before  superior  might, 

And  here  renew'd  the  wild  tumultuous  fight." 

While  thus  our  souls  with  early  passions  swell, 

In  lingering  tones  resounds  the  distant  bell ; 

Th'  allotted  hour  of  daily  sport  is  o'er. 

And  Learning  beckons  from  her  temple's  door.  150 

No  splendid  tablets  grace  her  simple  hall, 

But  ruder  records  fill  the  dusky  wall : 

There,  deeply  carv'd,  behold  !  each  Tyro's  name 

Secures  its  owner's  academic,  fame; 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  93 

Here  mingling  view  the  names  of  Sire  and  Son, 

The  one  long  grav'd,  the  other  just  begun  : 

These  shall  survive  alike  when  Son  and  Sire, 

Beneath  one  common  stroke  of  fate  expire  ;  ^ 

Perhaps,  their  last  memorial  these  alone, 

Denied,  in  death,  a  monumental  stone,  160 

Whilst  to  the  gale  in  mournful  cadence  wave 

The  sighing  weeds,  that  hide  their  nameless  grave. 

And,  here,  my  name,  and  many  an  early  friend's. 

Along  the  wall  in  lengthen'd  line  extends. 

Though,  still,  our  deeds  amuse  the  youthful  race, 

Who  tread  our  steps,  and  fill  our  former  place. 

Who  young  obeyed  their  lords  in  silent  awe. 

Whose  nod  commanded,  and  whose  voice  was  law ; 

And  now,  in  turn,  possess  the  reins  of  power. 

To  rule,  the  little  Tyrants  of  an  hour;  170 

Though  sometimes,  with  the  Tales  of  ancient  day. 

They  pass  the  dreary  Winter's  eve  away ; 

"  And,  thus,  our  former  rulers  stemm'd  the  tide. 

And,  thus,  they  dealt  the  combat,  side  by  side ; 

Just  in  this  place,  the  mouldering  walls  they  scaled. 

Nor  bolts,  nor  bars,  against  their  strength  avail'd ;  ^ 

1.  [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  Conversations  (1824),  p.  85.] 

2.  [Byron  elsewhere  thus  describes  his  usual  course  of  life 
while  at  Harrow  :  "  always  cricketing,  relDelling,  ro2uin^^ 
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." — Li/e^  p.  29. J 


94  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Here  Probus  came,  the  rising  fray  to  quell, 
And,  here,  he  falter'd  forth  his  last  farewell ; 
And,  here,  one  night  abroad  they  dared  to  roam, 
While  bold  Pomposus  bravely  staid  at  home ;  "        i8o 
While  thus  they  speak,  the  hour  must  soon  arrive. 
When  names  of  these,  like  ours,  alone  survive : 
Yet  a  few  years,  one  general  wreck  will  whelm 
The  faint  remembrance  of  our  fairy  realm. 

Dear  honest  race  !  though  now  we  meet  no  more, 
One  last  long  look  on  what  we  were  before — 
Our  first  kind  greetings,  and  our  last  adieu — 
Drew  tears  from  eyes  unus'd  to  weep  with  you. 
Through  splendid  circles,  Fashion's  gaudy  world, 
Where  Folly's  glaring  standard  waves  unfurl'd,         190 
I  plung'd  to  drown  in  noise  my  fond  regret, 
And  all  I  sought  or  hop'd  was  to  forget : 
Vain  wish  1  if,  chance,  some  well-remember'd  face, 
Some  old  companion  of  my  early  race, 
Advanc'd  to  claim  his  friend  with  honest  joy, 
My  eyes,  my  heart,  proclaim'd  me  still  a  boy; 
The  glittering  scene,  the  fluttering  groups  around, 
Were  quite  forgotten  when  my  friend  was  found ; 
The  smiles  of  Beauty,  (for,  alas  !  Fve  known 
What  'tis  to  bend  before  Love's  mighty  throne;)      200 
The  smiles  of  Beauty,  though  those  smiles  were  dear, 
Could  hardly  charm  me,  when  that  friend  was  near : 
My  thoughts  bewilder'd  in  the  fond  surprise, 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  95 

The  woods  of  Ida  danc'd  before  my  eyes  ; 
I  saw  the  sprightly  wand'rers  pour  along, 
I  saw,  and  join'd  again  the  joyous  throng; 
Panting,  again  I  trac'd  her  lofty  grove, 
And  Friendship's  feelings  triumph'd  over  Love. 

Yet,  why  should  I  alone  with  such  delight 
Retrace  the  circuit  of  my  former  flight  ?  210 

Is  there  no  cause  beyond  the  common  claim, 
Endear'd  to  all  in  childhood's  very  name  ? 
Ah  !  sure  some  stronger  impulse  vibrates  here. 
Which  whispers  friendship  will  be  doubly  dear 
To  one,  who  thus  for  kindred  hearts  must  roam. 
And  seek  abroad,  the  love  denied  at  home. 
Those  hearts,  dear  Ida,  have  I  found  in  thee, 
A  home,  a  world,  a  paradise  to  me. 
Stern  Death  forbade  my  orphan  youth  to  share 
The  tender  guidance  of  a  Father's  care ;  220 

Can  Rank,  or  e'en  a  Guardian's  name  supply 
The  love,  which  glistens  in  a  Father's  eye  ? 
For  this,  can  Wealth,  or  Title's  sound  atone, 
Made,  by  a  Parent's  early  loss,  my  own  ? 
What  Brother  springs  a  Brother's  love  to  seek  ? 
What  Sister's  gentle  kiss  has  prest  my  cheek  ? 
For  me,  how  dull  the  vacant  moments  rise. 
To  no  fond  bosom  link'd  by  kindred  ties ! 
Oft,  in  the  progress  of  some  fleeting  dream. 
Fraternal  smiles,  collected  round  me  seem;  230 


g6  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

While  still  the  visions  to  my  heart  are  prest, 

The  voice  of  Love  will  murmur  in  my  rest : 

I  hear — I  wake — and  in  the  sound  rejoice  ! 

I  hear  again, — but,  ah  !  no  Brother's  voice. 

A  Hermit,  'midst  of  crowds,  I  fain  must  stray 

Alone,  though  thousand  pilgrims  fill  the  way ; 

While  these  a  thousand  kindred  wreaths  entwine, 

I  cannot  call  one  single  blossom  mine : 

What  then  remains  ?  in  solitude  to  groan, 

To  mix  in  friendship,  or  to  sigh  alone  ?  240 

Thus,  must  I  cling  to  some  endearing  hand, 

And  none  more  dear,  than  Ida's  social  band. 

Alonzo  !  ^  best  and  dearest  of  my  friends,  *• 
Thy  name  ennobles  him,  who  thus  commends : 
From  this  fond  tribute  thou  canst  gain  no  praise ; 
The  praise  is  his,  who  now  that  tribute  pays. 
Oh  !  in  the  promise  of  thy  early  youth, 
If  Hope  anticipate  the  words  of  Truth  ! 
Some  loftier  bard  shall  sing  thy  glorious  name, 

i.  Joannes!  best  afid  dearest  of  my  friends. — 

{P.  on  V.  Occasions. '\ 

I.  "  Lord  Clare."  [Annotated  copy  of  P.  on  V.  Occasions 
in  the  British  Museum.]  [Lines  243-264,  as  the  note  in  Byron's 
handwriting  explains,  were  originally  intended  to  apply  to 
Lord  Clare.  In  Hojirs  of  Idleness  "Joannes"  became 
"  Alonzo,"  and  the  same  lines  were  employed  to  celebrate  the 
memory  of  his  friend  the  Hon.  John  Wingfield,  of  the  Cold- 
stream Guards,  brother  to  Richard,  fourth  Viscount  Powers- 
court.  He  died  at  Coimbra  in  181 1,  in  his  twentieth  year. 
Ryron  at  one  time  gave  him  the  preference  over  all  other 
friends.] 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  97 

To  build  his  own,  upon  thy  deathless  fame  :  '•        250 

Friend  of  my  heart,  and  foremost  of  the  list 

Of  those  with  -whom  I  lived  supremely  blest ; 

Oft  have  we  drain'd  the  font  of  ancient  lore. 

Though  drinking  deeply,  thirsting  still  the  more ; 

Yet,  when  Confinement's  lingering  hour  was  done, 

Our  sports,  our  studies,  and  our  souls  were  one : 

Together  we  impell'd  the  flying  ball, 

Together  waited  in  our  tutor's  hall ; 

Together  join'd  in  cricket's  manly  toil, 

Or  shar'd  the  produce  of  the  river's  spoil ;  260 

Or  plunging  from  the  green  declining  shore, 

Our  pliant  limbs  the  buoyant  billows  bore :  "• 

In  every  element,  unchang'd,  the  same. 

All,  all  that  brothers  should  be,  but  the  name. 

Nor,  yet,  are  you  forgot,  my  jocund  Boy ! 
Davus,^  the  harbinger  of  childish  joy ; 
For  ever  foremost  in  the  ranks  of  fun. 
The  laughing  herald  of  the  harmless  pun ; 
Yet,  with  a  breast  of  such  materials  made. 
Anxious  to  please,  of  pleasing  half  afraid ;  270 

i.   Could  aught  inspire  me  with  poetic  fire. 
For  thee,  alone,  Td  stnke  the  hallow'' d  lyre; 
But,  to  some  abler  hand,  the  task  I  wave, 
Whose  strains  immortal  may  outlive  the  grave. — 

[/*.  on  V.  Occasions. \ 
ii.    Our  lusty  limbs. — \P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

the  buoyant  ivaters  bore. — \Hoiirs  of  Idleness.] 

I.  [The  Rev.  John  Cecil  Tattersall,  B.A.,  of  Christ  Church, 
Oxford,  who  died  December  8,  1812,  at  Hall's  Place,  Kent, 
aged  twenty-three.] 

VOL.  I.  H 


98  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Candid  and  liberal,  with  a  heart  of  steel 

In  Danger's  path,  though  not  untaught  to  feel. 

Still,  I  remember,  in  the  factious  strife. 

The  rustic's  musket  aim'd  against  my  life  :  ^ 

High  pois'd  in  air  the  massy  weapon  hung, 

A  cry  of  horror  burst  from  every  tongue  : 

Whilst  I,  in  combat  with  another  foe. 

Fought  on,  unconscious  of  th'  impending  blow  j 

Your  arm,  brave  Boy,  arrested  his  career — 

Forward  you  sprung,  insensible  to  fear;  280 

Disarm'd,  and  baffled  by  your  conquering  hand, 

The  grovelling  Savage  roll'd  upon  the  sand : 

An  act  like  this,  can  simple  thanks  repay  ?  *• 

Or  all  the  labours  of  a  grateful  lay  ? 

Oh  no  !  whene'er  my  breast  forgets  the  deed, 

That  instant,  Davus,  it  deserves  to  bleed. 

Lycus  !  ^  on  me  thy  claims  are  justly  great : 

Thy  milder  virtues  could  my  Muse  relate, 

i.   Thus  did  you  save  that  life  I  scarcely  prize — 
A  life  unworthy  such  a  sacrifice. 
Oh!  when  my  breast  forgets  the  gefi'rous  deed. — 

[F.  on  V.  Occasions.'] 

1.  [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. — Life,  p.  25.] 

2.  [John  Fitzgibbon,  second  Earl  of  Clare  (1792-185 1), 
afterwards  Governor  of  Bombay,  of  whom  Byron  said,  in 
1822,  "  I  have  always  loved  him  better  than  any  male  thing 
in  the  world." — "  I  never,"  was  his  language  in  1821,  "hear 
the  word  '  Clare '  without  a  beating  of  the  heart  even  now; 
and  I  write  it  with  the  feelings  of  1803-4-5,  ad  infinitum." 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  99 

To  thee,  alone,  unrivall'd,  would  belong 

The  feeble  efforts  of  my  lengthen'd  songj*  290 

Well  canst  thou  boast,  to  lead  in  senates  fit, 

A  Spartan  firmness,  with  Athenian  wit : 

Though  yet,  in  embryo,  these  perfections  shine, 


i.  For  ever  to  possess  a  friend  in  thee. 

Was  bliss  ujihofd,  though  not  unsought  by  me; 
Thy  softer  soul  was  formed  for  love  alone. 
To  ruder  passions  and  to  hate  unknown  ; 
Thy  mind,  in  union  with  thy  beauteous  form. 
Was  gentle,  but  unfit  to  stem  the  storm  ; 
That  face,  an  index  of  celestial  zuorth, 
Proclaimed  a  heart  abstracted  from  the  earth. 
Oft,  when  depress'' d  with  sad,  foreboding  gloom^ 
J  sat  reclined  upon  our  favourite  tomb, 
Tve  seeji  those  sympathetic  eyes  overflow 
With  kind  compassion  for  thy  comrades  woe  ; 
Or,  when  less  mournful  subjects  formed  our  themes^ 
We  tried  a  thousand  fond  romantic  schemes. 
Oft  hast  thou  sworn,  in  friendship's  soothmg  tone. 
Whatever  wish  was  mine,  must  be  thine  own. 
The  next  can  boast  to  lead  in  seriates  fit, 
A  Spartan  firmness,  with  Athenian  wit ; 
Thd'  yet,  in  embryo,  these  perfections  shine, 
Clarusl  thy  father' s  fame  will  sooji  be  thine. — 

{P.  on  V.  Occasions. '\ 

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  : — 
"  This  and  another  letter  were  written  at  Harrow,  by  my 
theti  and,  I  hope,  ever  beloved  friend.  Lord  Clare,  when  we 
were  both  schoolboys  ;  and  sent  to  my  study  in  consequence 
of  some  childish  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."  See,  also, 
Byron's  account  of  his  accidental  meeting  with  Lord  Clare 
in  Italy  in  1821,  as  recorded  in  Detached  Thoughts,  Nov.  5, 
1821  ;  in  letters  to  Moore,  March  i  and  June  8,  1822; 
and  Mme.  Guiccioli's  description  of  his  emotion  on  seeing 
Clare  {My  Recollections  of  Lord  Byron,  ed.  1869,  p.  156).] 


lOO  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Lycus  !  thy  father's  fame  ^  will  soon  be  thine. 
Where  Learning  nurtures  the  superior  mind, 
What  may  we  hope,  from  genius  thus  refin'd ; 
When  Time,  at  length,  matures  thy  growing  years, 
How  wilt  thou  tower,  above  thy  fellow  peers ! 
Prudence  and  sense,  a  spirit  bold  and  free, 
With  Honour's  soul,  united  beam  in  thee,  300 

Shall  fair  Euryalus,^  pass  by  unsung  ? 
From  ancient  lineage,  not  unworthy,  sprung : 
What,  though  one  sad  dissension  bade  us  part, 
That  name  is  yet  embalm'd  within  my  heart. 
Yet,  at  the  mention,  does  that  heart  rebound, 
And  palpitate,  responsive  to  the  sound ; 
Envy  dissolved  our  ties,  and  not  our  will : 
We  once  were  friends, — I'll  think,  we  are  so  still. 
A  form  unmatch'd  in  Nature's  partial  mould, 
A  heart  untainted,  we,  in  thee,  behold :  310 

1.  [John  Fitzgibbon,  first  Earl  of  Clare  (i 749-1 802),  be- 
came 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.] 

2.  [George  John,  fifth  Earl  of  Delawarr. — "  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." — "  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 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  lOI 

Yet,  not  the  Senate's  thunder  thou  shalt  wield, 

Nor  seek  for  glory,  in  the  tented  field : 

To  minds  of  mder  texture,  these  be  given — 

Thy  soul  shall  nearer  soar  its  native  heaven. 

Haply,  in  polish'd  courts  might  be  thy  seat, 

But,  that  thy  tongue  could  never  forge  deceit : 

The  courtier's  supple  bow,  and  sneering  smile, 

The  flow  of  compliment,  the  slippery  wile, 

Would  make  that  breast,  with  indignation,  burn 

And,  all  the  glittering  snares,  to  tempt  thee,  spurn.  320 

Domestic  happiness  will  stamp  thy  fate ; 

Sacred  to  love,  unclouded  e'er  by  hate ; 

The  world  admire  thee,  and  thy  friends  adore ; — 

Ambition's  slave,  alone,  would  toil  for  more.'- 

Now  last,  but  nearest,  of  the  social  band. 
See  honest,  open,  generous  Cleon  ^  stand ; 

i.    IVhere  is  the  restless  fool,  luould  wish  for  vioret — 

[/*.  on  V.  Occasions.^ 

of  my  forefathers,  in  Charles  I.'s  time,  married  into  their 
family."  The  allusion  in  the  text  to  their  subsequent  quarrel, 
receives  further  light  from  a  letter  which  the  poet  addressed 
to  Lord  Clare  under  date,  Februaiy  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  Dela- 
warr. 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.] 

I.  [Edward  Noel  Long,  who  was  drowned  by  the  founder- 
ing of  a  transport  on  the  voyage  to  LislDon  with  his  regi- 
ment, in  1809.  (See  lines  "  To  Edward  Noel  Long,  Esq.," 
post,^.  184.)] 


102  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

With  scarce  one  speck,  to  cloud  the  pleasing  scene, 
No  vice  degrades  that  purest  soul  serene. 
On  the  same  day,  our  studious  race  begun, 
On  the  same  day,  our  studious  race  was  nm ;       330 
Thus,  side  by  side,  we  pass'd  our  first  career, 
Thus,  side  by  side,  we  strove  for  many  a  year ; 
At  last,  concluded  our  scholastic  life. 
We  neither  conquer'd  in  the  classic  strife : 
As  Speakers,^  each  supports  an  equal  name,*- 
And  crowds  allow  to  both  a  partial  fame ; 
To  soothe  a  youthful  Rival's  early  pride, 
Though  Cleon's  candour  would  the  palm  divide. 
Yet  Candour's  self  compels  me  now  to  own, 
Justice  awards  it  to  my  Friend  alone.  340 

Oh  !  Friends  regretted,  Scenes  for  ever  dear, 
Remembrance  hails  you  with  her  warmest  tear ! 
Drooping,  she  bends  o'er  pensive  Fancy's  urn, 
To  trace  the  hours,  which  never  can  return ; 
Yet,  with  the  retrospection  loves  to  dwell,''* 
And  soothe  the  sorrows  of  her  last  farewell ! 
Yet  greets  the  triumph  of  my  boyish  mind, 
As  infant  laurels  round  my  head  were  twin'd; 

i.  As  speakers,  each  supports  a  rival  name, 
Though  neither  seeks  to  damn  the  othet' s  fanie^ 
Pomposus  sits,  unequal  to  decide, 
IVith  yotithful  candour,  zue  the  palm  divide. — 

{P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

ii.    Yet  in  the  retrospection  finds  relief. 

And  rez'els  in  the  luxury  of  grief . — \P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 

I.  This   alludes   to  the  public  speeches  delivered  at  the 
school  where  the  author  was  educated. 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  I  03 

When  Probus'  praise  repaid  my  lyric  song, 

Or  plac'd  me  higher  in  the  studious  throng;         350 

Or  when  my  first  harangue  receiv'd  applause,* 

His  sage  instruction  the  primeval  cause, 

What  gratitude,  to  him,  my  soul  possest, 

While  hope  of  dawning  honours  fill'd  my  breast !  '• 

i.    When,  yet  a  Jiovice  in  the  mimic  art, 

I  feign'' d  the  trafisports  of  a  vengeful  heart ; 
When,  as  the  Royal  Slave,  I  trod  the  stage. 
To  vent  iji  Zanga,  more  than  mortal  rage  ; 
The  praise  of  Probus,  made  me  feel  more  proud^ 
Than  all  the  plaudits  of  the  list'ning  croxvd. 

Ah  !  vain  efideavour  in  this  childish  strain 
To  soothe  the  woes  of  which  I  thus  complain  ! 
What  can  avail  this  fruitless  loss  of  time. 
To  measure  sort'oiu,  in  a  jingling  rhyme  ! 
No  social  solace  from  a  friend,  is  near. 
And  heartless  strangers  drop  no  feeling  tear, 
I  seek  not  joy  ifi  Woman'' s  sparkling  eye. 
The  smiles  of  Beauty  cannot  check  the  sigh. 
Adieu,  thou  "world!  thy  pleasures  still  a  dream, 
Thy  virtue,  but  a  visionary  theme ; 
Thy  years  of  vice,  on  years  of  folly  roll. 
Till  grinning  death  assigns  the  destin  d  goal, 

I.  ["  My  qualities  were  much  more  oratorical  than  poetical, 
and  Dr.  Dniry,  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." — Byron  Diary.  "  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  compoFition,  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  tempera- 
ment, am  convinced  that  he  was  hurried  on  to  expressions 
and  colourings  more  striking  than  what  his  pen  had 
expressed."— Dr.  Drury,  Life,  p.  20.] 


I04  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

For  all  my  humble  fame,  to  him  alone, 

The  praise  is  due,  who  made  that  fame  my  otvti. 

Oh  !  could  I  soar  above  these  feeble  lays, 

These  young  effusions  of  my  early  days, 

To  him  my  Muse  her  noblest  strain  would  give. 

The  song  might  perish,  but  the  theme  might  live.**  360 

Yet,  why  for  him  the  needless  verse  essay  ? 

His  honour'd  name  requires  no  vain  display : 

lllifre  all  are  hastening  to  the  dread  abode^ 
To  meet  the  judgment  of  a  righteous  God ; 
Mix'd  in  the  concourse  of  a  thoughtless  throngs 
A  mourner^  midst  of  mirth^  I  glide  along  ; 
A  TL'retchedj  isolated,  gloomy  thing, 
Curst  by  reflection's  deep  corroding  sting ; 
But  not  that  mental  sting,  which  stabs  within, 
The  dark  avenger  of  unpunished  sin  ; 
The  silent  shaft,  which  goads  the  guilty  wretch 
Extended  on  a  rack's  untiring  stretch  : 
Conscience  that  sting,  that  shaft  to  him  supplies — 
His  mind  the  rack,  from  which  he  ne'er  can  rise. 
For  me,  whatier  my  folly,  or  my  fear. 
One  cheerful  comfort  still  is  cherish' d  here. 
No  dread  internal,  haunts  my  hours  of  rest ^ 
No  dreams  of  injitred  innocence  infest ; 
Of  hope,  of  peace,  of  almost  all  bereft, 
Conscience,  my  last  but  welcome  guest,  is  left. 
Slander's  empoison' d  breath,  may  blast  my  tiamc, 
Envy  delights  to  blight  the  buds  of  fame : 
Deceit  may  chill  the  current  oj  my  blood. 
And  freeze  affection's  warm  impassion'  d  flood ; 
Presaging  horror,  darken  every  sense. 
Even  here  -will  conscience  be  my  best  defence ; 
My  bosom  feeds  no  "  7L'orm  which  n^er  can  die  :  " 
A'ot  crimes  I  mourn,  but  happiness  gone  by. 
Thus  crawling  on  with  many  a  reptile  vile. 
My  heart  is  bitter,  though  my  cheek  may  smile  J 
No  more  'with  former  bliss,  my  heart  is  glad ; 
Hope  yields  to  anguish  and  my  soul  is  sad  ; 
Erom  fond  regret,  no  future  Joy  can  save  ; 
/Remembrance  slumbers  only  in  the  grave. 

[P.  on  V.  Occasions.^ 
i.    The  song  might  perish,  but  the  theme  must  live. — 

{Hours  of  Idlmess.\ 


CHILDISH    RECOLLECTIONS.  I05 

By  every  son  of  grateful  Ida  blest, 
It  finds  an  echo  in  each  youthful  breast; 
A  fame  beyond  the  glories  of  the  proud, 
Or  all  the  plaudits  of  the  venal  crowd. 

Ida  !  not  yet  exhausted  is  the  theme. 
Nor  clos'd  the  progress  of  my  youthful  dream. 
How  many  a  friend  deserves  the  grateful  strain ! 
\Miat  scenes  of  childhood  still  unsung  remain  !  370 

Yet  let  me  hush  this  echo  of  the  past. 
This  parting  song,  the  dearest  and  the  last  ; 
And  brood  in  secret  o'er  those  hours  of  joy, 
To  me  a  silent  and  a  sweet  employ, 
While,  future  hope  and  fear  alike  unknown, 
I  think  with  pleasure  on  the  past  alone ; 
Yes,  to  the  past  alone,  my  heart  confine. 
And  chase  the  phantom  of  what  once  was  mine. 

Ida  !  still  o'er  thy  hills  in  joy  preside. 
And  proudly  steer  through  Time's  eventful  tide :  380 

Still  may  thy  blooming  Sons  thy  name  revere. 
Smile  in  thy  bower,  but  quit  thee  with  a  tear  \— 
That  tear,  perhaps,  the  fondest  which  will  flow, 
O'er  their  last  scene  of  happiness  below  : 
Tell  me,  ye  hoary  few,  who  glide  along, 
The  feeble  Veterans  of  some  former  throng, 
AMiose  friends,  like  Autumn  leaves  by  tempests  whirl'd, 
Are  swept  for  ever  from  this  busy  world; 


Io6  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Revolve  the  fleeting  moments  of  your  youth, 

While  Care  has  yet  withheld  her  venom'd  tooth/       390 

Say,  if  Remembrance  days  like  these  endears, 

Beyond  the  rapture  of  succeeding  years  ? 

Say,  can  Ambition's  fever'd  dream  bestow 

So  sweet  a  balm  to  soothe  your  hours  of  woe  ? 

Can  Treasures  hoarded  for  some  thankless  Son, 

Can  Royal  Smiles,  or  Wreaths  by  slaughter  won, 

Can  Stars  or  Ermine,  Man's  maturer  Toys, 

(For  glittering  baubles  are  not  left  to  Boys,) 

Recall  one  scene  so  much  belov'd  to  view. 

As  those  where  Youth  her  garland  twin'd  for  you  ?      400 

Ah,  no  !  amid  the  gloomy  calm  of  age 

You  turn  with  faltering  hand  life's  varied  page, 

Peruse  the  record  of  your  days  on  earth. 

Unsullied  only  where  it  marks  your  birth ; 

Still,  lingering,  pause  above  each  chequer'd  leaf. 

And  blot  with  Tears  the  sable  lines  of  Grief; 

Where  Passion  o'er  the  theme  her  mantle  threw, 

Or  weeping  Virtue  sigh'd  a  faint  adieu ; 

But  bless  the  scroll  which  fairer  words  adorn, 

Trac'd  by  the  rosy  finger  of  the  Morn ;  410 

When  Friendship  bow'd  before  the  shrine  of  truth, 

And  Love,  without  his  pinion,^  smil'd  on  Youth. 

i,  his  venoni'd  tooth. — [Bburs  0/ Idleness.] 

I.  "  L'Amitie    est    I'Amour    sans    ailes,"    is    a     French 
proverb.     [See  the  lines  so  entitled,  p.  220.] 


ANSWER  TO  A  POEM  BY  MONTGOMERY.     1 07 

ANSWER  TO  A  BEAUTIFUL  POEM,  WRITTEN 
BY  MONTGOMERY,  AUTHOR  OF  "THE 
WANDERER  OF  SWITZERLAND,"  ETC., 
ENTITLED   "THE   COMMON   LOT."^ 

I. 

Montgomery  !  true,  the  common  lot 

Of  mortals  lies  in  Lethe's  wave ; 
Yet  some  shall  never  be  forgot, 

Some  shall  exist  beyond  the  grave. 

2. 
"  Unknown  the  region  of  his  birth," 

The  hero  ^  rolls  the  tide  of  war ; 
Yet  not  unknown  his  martial  worth, 

Which  glares  a  meteor  from  afar. 

3. 

His  joy  or  grief,  his  weal  or  woe, 

Perchance  may  'scape  the  page  of  fame ; 

Yet  nations,  now  unborn,  will  know 
The  record  of  his  deathless  name. 

1.  [Montgomery  (James),  1771-1854,  poet  and  hymn-writer, 
published  Prison  Anmsejnents  (1797),  The  Ocean;  a  Poem 
(1805),  The  Wanderer  of  Switzerland^  and  other  Poems 
(1806),  The  West  Indies,  and  other  Poems  (18 10),  Sojigs  of 
Sion  (1822),  The  Christian  Psalmist  (1825),  The  Pelican 
Island,  and  other  Poems  (1827),  etc.  {vide  post,  E7iglish  Bards, 
etc.^  line  425,  and  note)?\ 

2.  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,  P^rederick  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. 


:o8  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

4- 

The  Patriot's  and  the  Poet's  frame 
Must  share  the  common  tomb  of  all : 

Their  glory  will  not  sleep  the  same ; 
That  will  arise,  though  Empires  fall. 

5. 
The  lustre  of  a  Beauty's  eye 

Assumes  the  ghastly  stare  of  death ; 
The  fair,  the  brave,  the  good  must  die, 

And  sink  the  yawning  grave  beneath. 

6. 

Once  more,  the  speaking  eye  revives. 
Still  beaming  through  the  lover's  strain ; 

For  Petrarch's  Laura  still  survives  : 
She  died,  but  ne'er  will  die  again, 

7. 
The  rolling  seasons  pass  away, 

And  Time,  untiring,  waves  his  wing ; 
Whilst  honour's  laurels  ne'er  decay, 

But  bloom  in  fresh,  unfading  spring. 

8. 

All,  all  must  sleep  in  grim  repose, 
Collected  in  the  silent  tomb  j 

The  old,  the  young,  with  friends  and  foes, 
Fest'ring  alike  in  shrouds,  consume. 


love's  last  adieu.  109 

9- 

The  mouldering  marble  lasts  its  day, 
Yet  falls  at  length  an  useless  fane ; 

To  Ruin's  ruthless  fangs  a  prey, 

The  wrecks  of  pillar'd  Pride  remain. 

10. 

\Vliat,  though  the  sculpture  be  destroy'd, 
From  dark  Oblivion  meant  to  guard ; 

A  bright  renown  shall  be  enjoy'd, 
By  those,  whose  virtues  claim  reward. 

II. 

Then  do  not  say  the  common  lot 

Of  all  lies  deep  in  Lethe's  wave ; 
Some  few  who  ne'er  will  be  forgot 

Shall  burst  the  bondage  of  the  grave. 

1S06. 


LOVE'S   LAST  ADIEU. 
'Ael  5'  ait  fif  </)€u7€t.— [Pseud.]  Anacreon,  [Els  xpvffhv]. 

I. 

The  roses  of  Love  glad  the  garden  of  life. 

Though  nurtured  'mid  weeds  dropping  pestilent  dew, 

Till  Time  crops  the  leaves  with  unmerciful  knife. 
Or  prunes  them  for  ever,  in  Love's  last  adieu  ! 


no  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

In  vain,  with  endearments,  we  soothe  the  sad  heart, 
In  vain  do  we  vow  for  an  age  to  be  true ; 

The  chance  of  an  hour  may  command  us  to  part, 
Or  Death  disunite  us,  in  Love's  last  adieu ! 

3- 

Still  Hope,  breathing  peace,  through   the  grief-swollen 
breast,'- 

Will  whisper,  "  Our  meeting  we  yet  may  renew : " 
With  this  dream  of  deceit,  half  our  sorrow's  represt 

Nor  taste  we  the  poison,  of  Love's  last  adieu  ! 

4. 
Oh  !  mark  you  yon  pair,  in  the  sunshine  of  youth, 

Love  twin'd  round  their  childhood  his  flow'rs  as  they 
grew; 
They  flourish  awhile,  in  the  season  of  truth, 
Till  chill' d  by  the  winter  of  Love's  last  adieu  1 

5- 
Sweet  lady  !  why  thus  doth  a  tear  steal  its  way, 

Down  a  cheek  which  outrivals  thy  bosom  in  hue  ? 
Yet  why  do  I  ask  ? — to  distraction  a  prey. 

Thy  reason  has  perish'd,  with  Love's  last  adieu  ! 

6. 

Oh  !  who  is  yon  Misanthrope,  shunning  mankind  ? 
From  cities  to  caves  of  the  forest  he  flew  : 

i.  Stillt  hope-beaming  peace. — \P.  on  V.  Occasions^ 


LOVES    LAST    ADIEU.  Ill 

There,  raving,  he  howls  his  complaint  to  the  wind ; 
The  mountains  reverberate  Love's  last  adieu  1 

7- 
Now  Hate  rules  a  heart  which  in  Love's  easy  chains, 

Once  Passion's  tumultuous  blandishments  knew ; 
Despair  now  inflames  the  dark  tide  of  his  veins, 

He  ponders,  in  frenzy,  on  Love's  last  adieu  ! 

8. 

How  he  envies  the  wretch,  with  a  soul  wrapt  in  steel  1 
His  pleasures  are  scarce,  yet  his  troubles  are  few, 

Who  laughs  at  the  pang  that  he  never  can  feel. 
And  dreads  not  the  anguish  of  Love's  last  adieu ! 

9- 

Youth  flies,  life  decays,  even  hope  is  o'ercast ; 

No  more,  with  Love's  former  devotion,  we  sue  : 
He  spreads  his  young  wing,  he  retires  with  the  blast ; 

The  shroud  of  aflection  is  Love's  last  adieu  ! 


In  this  life  of  probation,  for  rapture  divine, 
Astrea  ^  declares  that  some  penance  is  due ; 

From  him,  who  has  worshipp'd  at  Love's  gentle  shrine, 
The  atonement  is  ample,  in  Love's  last  adieu  ! 

I.  The  Goddess  of  Justice. 


112  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


II. 


Who  kneels  to  the  God,  on  his  altar  of  light 
Must  myrtle  and  cypress  alternately  strew  : 

His  myrtle,  an  emblem  of  purest  delight, 

His  cypress,  the  garland  of  Love's  last  adieu  1 


LINES.'- 

ADDRESSED  TO  THE  REV.  J.   T.   BECHER,^  ON   HIS  ADVISING 
THE   AUTHOR   TO   MIX   MORE   WITH    SOCIETY. 


Dear  Becher,  you  tell  me  to  mix  with  mankind ; 

I  cannot  deny  such  a  precept  is  wise ; 
But  retirement  accords  with  the  tone  of  my  mind  : 

I  will  not  descend  to  a  world  I  despise. 

i.   To  the  Rev.  J.  T.  Becher.— [P.  on  V.  Occasions. ^ 

I.  [The  Rev.  John  Thomas  Becher  (1770-1848)  was  Vicar 
of  Rympton  and  Midsomer  Norton,  Somers.,  and  made  the 
acquaintance  of  Byron  when  in  residence  at  Southwell.  To 
him  was  submitted  an  early  copy  ol  the  Quarto^  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  P.  on  V.  Occasions^  pubHshed  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.)] 


LINES.  113 

2. 

Did  the  Senate  or  Camp  my  exertions  require, 
Ambition  might  prompt  me,  at  once,  to  go  forth ; 

When  Infancy's  years  of  probation  expire. 

Perchance,  I  may  strive  to  distinguish  my  birth. 

3. 

The  fire,  in  the  cavern  of  Etna,  conceal'd, 
Still  mantles  unseen  in  its  secret  recess ; 

At  length,  in  a  volume  terrific,  reveal'd, 

No  torrent  can  quench  it,  no  bounds  can  repress. 

4. 

Oh  !  thus,  the  desire,  in  my  bosom,  for  fame  *• 
Bids  me  live,  but  to  hope  for  Posterity's  praise. 

Could  I  soar  with  the  Phoenix  on  pinions  of  flame, 
With  him  I  would  wish  to  expire  in  the  blaze. 

5- 
For  the  life  of  a  Fox,  of  a  Chatham  the  death, 

^Vhat  censure,  what  danger,  what  woe  would  I  brave  ! 
Their  lives  did  not  end,  when  they  yielded  their  breath, 

Their  glory  illumines  the  gloom  of  their  grave."* 

6. 
Yet  why  should  I  mingle  in  Fashion's  full  herd  ? 

Why  crouch  to  her  leaders,  or  cringe  to  her  rules  ? 
Why  bend  to  the  proud,  or  applaud  the  absurd  ? 

Why  search  for  delight,  in  the  friendship  of  fools  ? 

i.   Oh!  such  the  desire. — [F.  on  V.  Occasions. '\ 

ii.  ■ the  gloom  of  the  grave. — [/l  on  V.  Occasions.] 

VOL.  I.  I 


114  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

I  have  tasted  the  sweets,  and  the  bitters,  of  love, 
In  friendship  I  early  was  taught  to  believe ; 

My  passion  the  matrons  of  prudence  reprove, 

I  have  found  that  a  friend  may  profess,  yet  deceive. 

8. 

To  me  what  is  wealth  ? — it  may  pass  in  an  hour. 
If  Tyrants  prevail,  or  if  Fortune  should  frown  : 

To  me  what  is  title  ? — the  phantom  of  power ; 
To  me  what  is  fashion  ? — I  seek  but  renown. 

9- 

Deceit  is  a  stranger,  as  yet,  to  my  soul ; 

I,  still,  am  unpractised  to  varnish  the  truth : 
Then,  why  should  I  live  in  a  hateful  controul  ? 

Why  waste,  upon  folly,  the  days  of  my  youth  ? 

1806. 


ANSWER  TO  SOME  ELEGANT  VERSES  SENT  BY 
A  FRIEND  TO  THE  AUTHOR,  COMPLAIN- 
ING THAT  ONE  OF  HIS  DESCRIPTIONS 
WAS  RATHER  TOO  WARMLY  DRAWN. 

'•  But  if  any  old  Lady,  Knight,  Priest,  or  Physician, 
Should  condemn  me  for  printing  a  second  edition  j 
If  good  Madam  Squintum  my  work  should  abuse, 
May  I  venture  to  give  her  a  smack  of  my  muse  ?  " 

'-"^NSTEY's  Nrd)  Bath  Guide,  p.  169. 

Candour  compels  me,  Becher  !  to  commend 
The,^erse,  ^^■hich  blends  the  censor  with  the  friend ; 


ANSWER   TO   SOME    ELEGANT   VERSES.  II5 

Your  Strong  yet  just  reproof  extorts  applause 
From  me,  the  heedless  and  imprudent  cause  ;  '• 
For  this  wild  error,  which  pervades  my  strain,"- 
I  sue  for  pardon, — must  I  sue  in  vain  ? 
The  wise  sometimes  from  Wisdom's  ways  depart ; 
Can  youth  then  hush  the  dictates  of  the  heart  ? 
Precepts  of  prudence  curb,  but  can't  controul, 
The  fierce  emotions  of  the  flowing  soul. 
When  Love's  delirium  haunts  the  glowing  mind, 
Limping  Decorum  lingers  far  behind ; 
Vainly  the  dotard  mends  her  prudish  pace, 
Outstript  and  vanquish'd  in  the  mental  chase. 
The  young,  the  old,  have  worn  the  chains  of  love  ; 
Let  those,  they  ne'er  confined,  my  lay  reprove ; 
Let  those,  whose  souls  contemn  the  pleasing  power, 
Their  censures  on  the  hapless  victim  shower. 
Oh  !  how  I  hate  the  nerveless,  frigid  song. 
The  ceaseless  echo  of  the  rhyming  throng, 
Whose  labour'd  lines,  in  chilling  numbers  flow, 
To  paint  a  pang  the  author  ne'er  can  know  1 
The  artless  Helicon,  I  boast,  is  youth ; — 
My  Lyre,  the  Heart — my  Muse,  the  simple  Truth. 
Far  be't  from  me  the  "virgin's,  mind"  to  "  taint :  " 
Seduction's  dread  is  here  no  slight  restraint : 
The  maid  whose  virgin  breast  is  void  of  guile, 
Whose  wishes  dimple  in  a  modest  smile, 

i.  the  heedless  and  unzcorihy  cause. — [P.  on  V.  Occasions.'] 

ii.  For  this  sole  error. — {P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 


Il6  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Whose  downcast  eye  disdains  the  wanton  leer, 
Firm  in  her  virtue's  strength,  yet  not  severe ; 
She,  whom  a  conscious  grace  shall  thus  refine, 
Will  ne'er  be  "  tainted  "  by  a  strain  of  mine. 
But,  for  the  nymph  whose  premature  desires 
Torment  her  bosom  with  unholy  fires. 
No  net  to  snare  her  willing  heart  is  spread ; 
She  would  have  fallen,  though  she  ne'er  had  read. 
For  me,  I  fain  would  please  the  chosen  few, 
Whose  souls,  to  feeling  and  to  nature  true, 
Will  spare  the  childish  verse,  and  not  destroy 
The  light  effusions  of  a  heedless  boy.'- 
I  seek  not  glory  from  the  senseless  crowd ; 
Of  fancied  laurels,  I  shall  ne'er  be  proud ; 
Their  warmest  plaudits  I  would  scarcely  prize, 
Their  sneers  or  censures,  I  alike  despise. 

November  26,  1806. 

ELEGY   ON   NEWSTEAD   ABBEY.^ 

"  It  is  the  voice  of  years,  that  are  gone  !  they  roll  before  me,  with 
all  their  deeds."— OssiAN."- 

I. 

Newstead  !  fast-falling,  once-resplendent  dome  ! 

Religion's  shrine  !  repentant  Henry's  ^  pride  ! 

i.    The  light  effusions  of  an  amorous  boy. — {P.  on  V.  Occasions.] 
ii.  Hours  of  Idleness. 

1.  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. 

2.  Henry  II.  founded  Newstead  soon  after  the  murder  of 
Thomas  k  Becket. 


ELEGY   ON    NEWSTEAD    ABBEY  II7 

Of  Warriors,  Monks,  and  Dames  the  cloister'd  tomb, 
Whose  pensive  shades  around  thy  ruins  glide, 

2. 

Hail  to  thy  pile  !  more  honour'd  in  thy  fall, 
Than  modern  mansions,  in  their  pillar'd  state ; 

Proudly  majestic  frowns  thy  vaulted  hall, 
Scowling  defiance  on  the  blasts  of  fate. 

3. 

No  mail-clad  Serfs,^  obedient  to  their  Lord, 
In  grim  array,  the  crimson  cross  ^  demand ; 

Or  gay  assemble  round  the  festive  board. 
Their  chiefs  retainers,  an  immortal  band. 

4. 
Else  might  inspiring  Fancy's  magic  eye 

Retrace  their  progress,  through  the  lapse  of  time ; 
Marking  each  ardent  youth,  ordain'd  to  die, 

A  votive  pilgrim,  in  Judea's  clime. 

5. 
But  not  from  thee,  dark  pile  !  departs  the  Chief; 

His  feudal  realm  in  other  regions  lay  : 
In  thee  the  wounded  conscience  courts  relief, 

Retiring  from  the  garish  blaze  of  day. 

1.  This  word  is  used  by  Walter  Scott,  in  his  poem,  The 
Wild  Huntsman^  as  synonymous  with  "  vassal." 

2.  The  red  cross  was  the  badge  of  the  Crusaders. 


Il8  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

6. 

Yes  !  in  thy  gloomy  cells  and  shades  profound, 
The  monk  abjur'd  a  world,  he  ne'er  could  view; 

Or  blood-stain'd  Guilt  repenting,  solace  found, 
Or  Innocence,  from  stern  Oppression,  flew. 

7. 
A  Monarch  bade  thee  from  that  wild  arise, 

Where  Sherwood's  outlaws,  once,  were  wont  to  prowl ; 
And  Superstition's  crimes,  of  various  dyes. 

Sought  shelter  in  the  Priest's  protecting  cowl. 

8. 

^Vhere,  now,  the  grass  exhales  a  murky  dew, 
The  humid  pall  of  life-extinguish'd  clay, 

In  sainted  fame,  the  sacred  Fathers  grew. 
Nor  raised  their  pious  voices,  but  to  pray. 

9- 

Where,  now,  the  bats  their  wavering  wings  extend, 
Soon  as  the  gloaming  ^  spreads  her  waning  shade ;  *• 

The  choir  did,  oft,  their  mingling  vespers  blend, 
Or  matin  orisons  to  Mary  "^  paid. 

i.   Soon  as  the  twilight  itinds  a  waning  shade. — 

\P.  on  V.  Occasions. '\ 

1.  As  "gloaming,"  the  Scottish  word  for  twilight,  is  far 
more  poetical,  and  has  been  recommended  by  many  eminent 
literar}'-  men,  particularly  by  Dr.  Moore  in  his  Letters  to 
Burns,  I  have  ventured  to  use  it  on  account  of  its  harmony. 

2.  The   priory  was  dedicated  to  the  Virgin. — \_Hours  of 
Idleness?^ 


ELEGY   ON    NEWSTEAD   ABBEY.  119 


Years  roll  on  years ;  to  ages,  ages  yield ; 

Abbots  to  Abbots,  in  a  line,  succeed  : 
Religion's  charter,  their  protecting  shield, 

Till  royal  sacrilege  their  doom  decreed. 

II. 

One  holy  Henry  rear'd  the  Gothic  walls, 
And  bade  the  pious  inmates  rest  in  peace ; 

Another  Henry  ^  the  kind  gift  recalls, 

And  bids  devotion's  hallow'd  echoes  cease. 

12. 

Vain  is  each  threat,  or  supplicating  prayer; 

He  drives  them  exiles  from  their  blest  abode, 
To  roam  a  dreary  world,  in  deep  despair — 

No  friend,  no  home,  no  refuge,  but  their  God." 

13. 
Hark  !  how  the  hall,  resounding  to  the  strain. 

Shakes  with  the  martial  music's  novel  din  I 
The  heralds  of  a  warrior's  haughty  reign. 

High  crested  banners  wave  thy  walls  within. 

1.  At  the  dissolution  of  the  monasteries,  Henry  VIII. 
bestowed  Newstead  Abbey  on  Sir  John  Byron. 

2.  [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. — Life^  p.  2, 
note.     It  is  now  a  lectern  in  Southwell  Minster.] 


I20  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

14. 

Of  changing  sentinels  the  distant  hum, 

The  mirth  of  feasts,  the  clang  of  burnish'd  arms, 

The  braying  trumpet,  and  the  hoarser  drum, 
Unite  in  concert  with  increas'd  alarms. 

15- 
An  abbey  once,  a  regal  fortress  ^  now, 

Encircled  by  insulting  rebel  powers ; 
War's  dread  machines  o'erhang  thy  threat'ning  brow, 

And  dart  destruction,  in  sulphureous  showers. 

16. 
Ah  !  vain  defence  !  the  hostile  traitor's  siege. 

Though  oft  repuls'd,  by  guile  o'ercomes  the  brave ; 
His  thronging  foes  oppress  the  faithful  Liege, 

Rebellion's  reeking  standards  o'er  him  wave. 

17. 
Not  unaveng'd  the  raging  Baron  yields ; 

The  blood  of  traitors  smears  the  purple  plain  ; 
Unconquer'd  still,  his  falchion  there  he  wields, 

And  days  of  glory,  yet,  for  him  remain. 

18. 
Still,  in  that  hour,  the  warrior  wish'd  to  strew 

Self-gather'd  laurels  on  a  self-sought  grave ; 
But  Charles'  protecting  genius  hither  flew. 

The  monarch's  friend,  the  monarch's  hope,  to  save. 

I.  Newstead   sustained  a  considerable   siege  in  the  war 
between  Charles  I.  and  his  parliament. 


ELEGY    ON    NEWSTEAD    ABBEY.  12  1 

19. 

Trembling,  she  snatch'd  him  ^  from  th'  unequal  strife, 

In  other  fields  the  torrent  to  repel ; 
For  nobler  combats,  here,  reserv'd  his  life, 

To  lead  the  band,  where  godlike  Falkland  ^  fell. 

20. 
From  thee,  poor  pile  !  to  lawless  plunder  given, 

While  dying  groans  their  painful  requiem  sound, 
Far  different  incense,  now,  ascends  to  Heaven, 

Such  victims  wallow  on  the  gory  ground. 

21. 
There  many  a  pale  and  ruthless  Robber's  corse. 

Noisome  and  ghast,  defiles  thy  sacred  sod ; 
O'er  mingling  man,  and  horse  commix'd  with  horse. 

Corruption's  heap,  the  savage  spoilers  trod. 

22. 
Graves,  long  with  rank  and  sighing  weeds  o'erspread, 

Ransack'd  resign,  perforce,  their  mortal  mould  : 
From  ruffian  fangs,  escape  not  e'en  the  dead, 

Racked  from  repose,  in  search  for  buried  gold. 

1.  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.  [Vui^e 
ante,  p.  3,  note  i.] 

2.  Lucius  Caiy,  Lord  Viscount  Falkland,  the  most  accom- 
plished man  of  his  age,  was  killed  at  the  Battle  of  Newbury, 
charging  in  the  ranks  of  Lord  Byron's  regiment  of  cavalry. 


122  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

23. 

Hush'd  is  the  harp,  unstrung  the  warlike  lyre, 
The  minstrel's  palsied  hand  reclines  in  death ; 

No  more  he  strikes  the  quivering  chords  with  fire, 
Or  sings  the  glories  of  the  martial  wreath.'- 

24. 

At  length  the  sated  murderers,  gorged  with  prey, 
Retire  :  the  clamour  of  the  fight  is  o'er ; 

Silence  again  resumes  her  awful  sway, 
And  sable  Horror  guards  the  massy  door. 

25. 
Here,  Desolation  holds  her  dreary  court : 

What  satellites  declare  her  dismal  reign  ! 
Shrieking  their  dirge,  ill-omen'd  birds  resort, 

To  flit  their  vigils,  in  the  hoary  fane. 

26. 

Soon  a  new  Morn's  restoring  beams  dispel 
The  clouds  of  Anarchy  from  Britain's  skies ; 

The  fierce  Usurper  seeks  his  native  hell, 
And  Nature  triumphs,  as  the  Tyrant  dies. 

27. 

With  storms  she  welcomes  his  expiring  groans  ; 
Whirlwinds,  responsive,  greet  his  labouring  breath ; 

i.  of  the  launlPd  7vreatk.—[P.  on  V.  Occasions.'] 


ELEGY   ON    NEWSTEAD    ABBEY.  123 

Earth  shudders,  as  her  caves  receive  his  bones, 
Loathing  ^  the  offering  of  so  dark  a  death. 

28. 

The  legal  Ruler  ^  now  resumes  the  helm, 

He  guides  through  gentle  seas,  the  prow  of  state ; 

Hope  cheers,  with  wonted  smiles,  the  peaceful  realm, 
And  heals  the  bleeding  wounds  of  wearied  Hate. 

29. 
The  gloomy  tenants,  Newstead  !  of  thy  cells, 

Howling,  resign  their  violated  nest ;  *• 
Again,  the  Master  on  his  tenure  dwells, 

Enjoy'd,  from  absence,  with  enraptured  zest. 

30- 

Vassals,  within  thy  hospitable  pale, 

Loudly  carousing,  bless  their  Lord's  return  ; 

Culture,  again,  adorns  the  gladdening  vale. 
And  matrons,  once  lamenting,  cease  to  mourn. 

31. 

A  thousand  songs,  on  tuneful  echo,  float, 
Unwonted  foliage  mantles  o'er  the  trees ; 

i.  Howling,  forsake . — [/*,  on  V.  Occasions.'] 

1.  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  circum- 
stance 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. 

2.  Charles  II. 


124  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

And,  hark  !  the  horns  proclaim  a  mellow  note, 
The  hunters'  cry  hangs  lengthening  on  the  breeze. 

32. 
Beneath  their  coursers'  hoofs  the  valleys  shake  ; 

What  fears  !  what  anxious  hopes  !  attend  the  chase  ! 
The  dying  stag  seeks  refuge  in  the  lake ; 

Exulting  shouts  announce  the  finish'd  race. 

33- 

Ah  happy  days  !  too  happy  to  endure  ! 

Such  simple  sports  our  plain  forefathers  knew  : 
No  splendid  vices  glitter'd  to  allure  ; 

Their  joys  were  many,  as  their  cares  were  few. 

34. 
From  these  descending,  Sons  to  Sires  succeed ; 

Time  steals  along,  and  Death  uprears  his  dart ; 
Another  Chief  impels  the  foaming  steed, 

Another  Crowd  pursue  the  panting  hart. 

35. 
Newstead  !  what  saddening  change  of  scene  is  thine  ! 

Thy  yawning  arch  betokens  slow  decay  ; 
The  last  and  youngest  of  a  noble  line, 

Now  holds  thy  mouldering  turrets  in  his  sway. 

36. 

Deserted  now,  he  scans  thy  gray  worn  towers ; 
Thy  vaults,  where  dead  of  feudal  ages  sleep ; 


ELEGY    ON    NEWSTEAD    ABHEY.  I25 

Thy  cloisters,  pervious  to  the  wintry  showers ; 

These,  these  he  views,  and  views  them  but  to  weep. 

37. 
Yet  are  his  tears  no  emblem  of  regret : 

Cherish'd  Affection  only  bids  them  flow ; 
Pride,  Hope,  and  Love,  forbid  him  to  forget. 

But  warm  his  bosom,  with  impassion'd  glow. 

38. 

Yet  he  prefers  thee,  to  the  gilded  domes,^ 
Or  gewgaw  grottos,  of  the  vainly  great ; 

Yet  lingers  'mid  thy  damp  and  mossy  tombs, 
Nor  breathes  a  murmur  'gainst  the  will  of  Fate. 

39- 

Haply  thy  sun,  emerging,  yet,  may  shine, 

Thee  to  irradiate  with  meridian  ray ; 
Hours,  splendid  as  the  past,  may  still  be  thine, 

And  bless  thy  future,  as  thy  former  day.** 

i.  Fortune  may  smile  upon  a  future  line. 
And  heaven  restore  an  ever-cloudless  day. — 

\P.  on  V.  Occasions, 
Hours  0/  Idleness.  ] 

I.  [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. J 


126  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


TO   GEORGE,   EARL   DELAWARR. 
I. 
Oh  !  yes,  I  will  own  we  were  dear  to  each  other ; 

The  friendships  of  childhood,  though  fleeting,  are  true ; 
The  love  which  you  felt  was  the  love  of  a  brother, 
Nor  less  the  affection  I  cherish'd  for  you. 

2. 

But  Friendship  can  vary  her  gentle  dominion ; 

The  attachment  of  years,  in  a  moment  expires  : 
Like  Love,  too,  she  moves  on  a  swift-waving  pinion. 

But  glows  not,  like  Love,  with  unquenchable  fires. 

3- 
Full  oft  have  we  wander'd  through  Ida  together. 

And  blest  w^ere  the  scenes  of  our  youth,  I  allow  : 
In  the  spring  of  our  life,  how  serene  is  the  weather  ! 
'  But  Winter's  rude  tempests  are  gathering  now. 

4- 

No  more  with  Affection  shall  Memory  blending, 
The  wonted  delights  of  our  childhood  retrace  : 

When  Pride  steels  the  bosom,  the  heart  is  unbending. 
And  what  would  be  Justice  appears  a  disgrace. 

i,    2o . — {Hours  of  Idleness. 

Poems  O.  and  Translated.] 


TO  GEORGE,  EAKL  DELAWARR.  1 27 

However,  dear  George,  for  I  still  must  esteem  you —  ■• 
The  few,  whom  I  love,  I  can  never  upbraid ; 

The  chance,  which  has  lost,  may  in  future  redeem  you. 
Repentance  will  cancel  the  vow  you  have  made. 


I  will  not  complain,  and  though  chill'd  is  affection, 
With  me  no  corroding  resentment  shall  live  : 

My  bosom  is  calm'd  by  the  simple  reflection, 

That  both  may  be  wrong,  and  that  both  should  forgive. 

7. 

You  knew,  that  my  soul,  that  my  heart,  my  existence, 
If  danger  demanded,  were  wholly  your  own ; 

You  knew  me  unalter'd,  by  years  or  by  distance, 
Devoted  to  love  and  to  friendship  alone. 

8. 

You  knew, — but  away  with  the  vain  retrospection  I 
The  bond  of  affection  no  longer  endures  ; 

Too  late  you  may  droop  o'er  the  fond  recollection, 
And  sigh  for  the  friend,  who  was  formerly  yours. 


i.  Hoivever,  dear  S .—{Hours  of  Id /en  ess. 

Poetns  0.  and  Translated. \ 


128  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

9- 

For  the  present,  we  part, — I  will  hope  not  for  ever ;  ^ 
For  time  and  regret  will  restore  you  at  last : 

To  forget  our  dissension  we  both  should  endeavour, 
I  ask  no  atonement,  but  days  like  the  past. 


DAMCETAS.* 

In  law  an  infant,^  and  in  years  a  boy, 

In  mind  a  slave  to  every  vicious  joy ; 

From  every  sense  of  shame  and  virtue  wean'd, 

In  lies  an  adept,  in  deceit  a  fiend ; 

Vers'd  in  hypocrisy,  while  yet  a  child ; 

Fickle  as  wind,  of  inclinations  wild  ; 

Woman  his  dupe,  his  heedless  friend  a  tool ; 

Old  in  the  world,  though  scarcely  broke  from  school ; 

Damcetas  ran  through  all  the  maze  of  sin, 

And  found  the  goal,  when  others  just  begin  : 

1.  [See  Byron's  Letter  to  Lord  Clare  of  February  6,  1807, 
referred  to  in  no^e  2,  p.  100.] 

2.  [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  do\vn  "  a  hypocrite."  Damcetas 
is,  probably,  a  satirical  sketch  of  a  friend  or  acquamtance. 
(Compare  the  solemn  denunciation  of  Lord  Falkland  in 
English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  lines  668-686.)] 

3.  In  law,  every  person  is  an  infant  who  has  not  attained 
the  age  of  twenty-one. 


TO   MARION.  129 

Ev'n  Still  conflicting  passions  shake  his  soul, 
And  bid  him  drain  the  dregs  of  Pleasure's  bowl ; 
But,  paird  with  vice,  he  breaks  his  former  chain. 
And  what  was  once  his  bliss  appears  his  bane. 


TO   MARION.^ 

Marion  !  why  that  pensive  brow  ?  *• 
What  disgust  to  life  hast  thou  ? 
Change  that  discontented  air ; 
Frowns  become  not  one  so  fair. 
'Tis  not  Love  disturbs  thy  rest, 
Love's  a  stranger  to  thy  breast : 
He^  in  dimpling  smiles,  appears. 
Or  mourns  in  sweetly  timid  tears  ; 
Or  bends  the  languid  eyelid  down, 
But  shuns  the  cold  forbidding /;'(?ze/«. 
Then  resume  thy  former  fire, 
Some  will  love^  and  all  admire ! 
While  that  icy  aspect  chills  us. 
Nought  but  cool  Indiffrence  thrills  us. 
Would'st  thou  wand'ring  hearts  beguile. 
Smile,  at  least,  or  seem  to  smile  ; 

i.  Harriet.— IMS.  Newstead.'] 

I.  [The  MS.  of  this  Poem  is  preserved  at  Newstead. 
"This  was  to  Harriet  Maltby,  afterwards  Mrs.  Nichols, 
written  upon  her  meeting  Byron,  and,  ^^ht\ng  cold,  silent, 
and  reserved  to  him,  by  the  advice  of  a  Lady  with  whom  she 
was  staying ;  quite  foreign  to  her  usual  manner,  which  was 
gay,  lively,  and  full  of  flirtation."— Note  by  Miss  E.  Pigot. 
(See  p.  130,  var.  ii.)] 

VOL.  I.  K 


130  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Eyes  like  thine  were  never  meant 
To  hide  their  orbs  in  dark  restraint ; 
Spite  of  all  thou  fain  wouldst  say, 
Still  in  truant  beams  they  play. 
Thy  lips — but  here  my  modest  Muse 
Her  impulse  chaste  must  needs  refuse  : 
She  blushes^  curfsies^  frowns, — in  short  She 
Dreads  lest  the  Subject  should  transport  me  ; 
And  flying  off,  in  search  of  Reason, 
Brings  Prudence  back  in  proper  season. 
All  I  shall,  therefore,  say  (whate'er  '• 
I  think,  is  neither  here  nor  there,) 
Is,  that  such  lips,  of  looks  endearing, 
Were  form'd  for  better  things  than  sneering. 
Of  soothing  compliments  divested, 
Advice  at  least's  disinterested ; 
Such  is  my  artless  song  to  thee. 
From  all  the  flow  of  Flatt'ry  free ; 
Counsel  like  ini7ie  is  as  a  brother's. 
My  heart  is  given  to  some  others ; 
That  is  to  say,  unskill'd  to  cozen, 
It  shares  itself  among  a  dozen. 

Marion,  adieu  !  oh,  pr'ythee  slight  not 
This  warning,  though  it  may  delight  not ; 
And,  lest  my  precepts  be  displeasing,'** 

i.  All  I  shall  therefore  say  of  these, 

{Thy  pardon  if  my  ivords  displease). — \MS.  Newslead.] 
ii.  And  lest  tny  precepts  be  fund  fault,  by 

Thjse  luho  approved  thefozan  of  M~lt-by.—\MS,  Neu'stead. 


OSCAR   OF    ALVA.  13I 

To  those  who  think  remonstrance  teazing, 
At  once  I'll  tell  thee  our  opinion, 
Concerning  Woman's  soft  Dominion ; 
Howe'er  we  gaze,  with  admiration, 
On  eyes  of  blue  or  lips  carnation  ; 
Howe'er  the  flowing  locks  attract  us, 
Howe'er  those  beauties  may  distract  us ; 
Still  fickle,  we  are  prone  to  rove. 
These  cannot  fix  our  souls  to  love  ; 
It  is  not  too  scvei'e  a  stricture. 
To  say  they  form  2i  pretty  picture  ; 
But  would'st  thou  see  the  secret  chain, 
Which  binds  us  in  your  humble  train, 
To  hail  you  Queens  of  all  Creation, 
Know,  in  a  word^  Uis  Animation. 

Byron,  January  10,  1807. 


OSCAR   OF  ALVA. 


How  sweetly  shines,  through  azure  skies. 
The  lamp  of  Heaven  on  Lora's  shore ; 

Where  Alva's  hoary  turrets  rise. 
And  hear  the  din  of  arms  no  more  ! 

I.  The  catastrophe  of  this  tale  was  suggested  by  the  story 
of  "  Jeronymo  and  Lorenzo,"  in  the  first  volume  of  Schiller's 
Armenian^  or  the  Ghost-Seer.  It  also  bears  some  resem- 
blance to  a  scene  in  the  third  act  of  Macbeth. — \Der  Geister- 
seher^  Schiller's  IVerke  (1819),  x.  97,  sq.'\ 


132  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

But  often  has  yon  rolling  moon, 
On  Alva's  casques  of  silver  play'd ; 

And  view'd,  at  midnight's  silent  noon, 
Her  chiefs  in  gleaming  mail  array'd : 

3. 

And,  on  the  crimson'd  rocks  beneath, 
Which  scowl  o'er  ocean's  sullen  flow, 

Pale  in  the  scatter'd  ranks  of  death. 
She  saw  the  gasping  warrior  low ;  '• 

4. 
While  many  an  eye,  which  ne'er  again  "• 

Could  mark  the  rising  orb  of  day, 
Tum'd  feebly  from  the  gory  plain. 

Beheld  in  death  her  fading  ray. 

5. 
Once,  to  those  eyes  the  lamp  of  Love, 

They  blest  her  dear  propitious  light ; 
But,  now,  she  glimmer'd  from  above, 

A  sad,  funereal  torch  of  night. 

6. 

Faded  is  Alva's  noble  race. 
And  grey  her  towers  are  seen  afar ; 

No  more  her  heroes  urge  the  chase. 

Or  roll  the  crimson  tide  of  war. 

i.  She  viewed  the  gasping . — [Hours  of  Idleness. 

ii.    When  many  an  eye  tvhich  n^er  again 

Could  view . — \Hours  of  Idleness.  ^ 


OSCAR   OF    ALVA.  I33 

But,  who  was  last  of  Alva's  clan  ? 

Why  grows  the  moss  on  Alva's  stone  ? 
Her  towers  resound  no  steps  of  man, 

They  echo  to  the  gale  alone. 

8. 
And,  when  that  gale  is  fierce  and  high, 

A  sound  is  heard  in  yonder  hall ; 
It  rises  hoarsely  through  the  sky, 

And  vibrates  o'er  the  mould'ring  wall. 

9. 
Yes,  when  the  eddying  tempest  sighs. 

It  shakes  the  shield  of  Oscar  brave ; 
But,  there,  no  more  his  banners  rise, 
No  more  his  plumes  of  sable  wave. 

10. 
Fair  shone  the  sun  on  Oscar's  birth. 

When  Angus  hail'd  his  eldest  born ; 
The  vassals  round  their  chieftain's  hearth 

Crowd  to  applaud  the  happy  morn. 

II. 

They  feast  upon  the  mountain  deer. 
The  Pibroch  rais'd  its  piercing  note,^ 

To  gladden  more  their  Highland  cheer. 
The  strains  in  martial  numbers  float. 

I.  [It  is  evident  that  Byron  here  confused  ih^  pibroch,  the 
air,  with  the  bagpipe,  the  instrument.] 


134  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

12. 

And  they  who  heard  the  war-notes  wild, 
Hop'd  that,  one  day,  the  Pibroch's  strain 

Should  play  before  the  Hero's  child. 
While  he  should  lead  the  Tartan  train. 

13. 

Another  year  is  quickly  past, 
And  Angus  hails  another  son ; 

His  natal  day  is  like  the  last, 

Nor  soon  the  jocund  feast  was  done. 

14. 

Taught  by  their  sire  to  bend  the  bow, 
On  Alva's  dusky  hills  of  wind, 

The  boys  in  childhood  chas'd  the  roe, 
And  left  their  hounds  in  speed  behind. 

15. 

But  ere  their  years  of  youth  are  o'er, 
They  mingle  in  the  ranks  of  war  ; 

They  lightly  wheel  the  bright  claymore, 
And  send  the  whistling  arrow  far. 

16. 

Dark  was  the  flow  of  Oscar's  hair, 
Wildly  it  stream'd  along  the  gale ; 

But  Allan's  locks  were  bright  and  fair, 
And  pensive  seem'd  his  cheek,  and  pale. 


OSCAR    OF    ALVA.  I 35 

But  Oscar  own'd  a  hero's  soul, 

His  dark  eye  shone  through  beams  of  truth ; 
Allan  had  early  learn'd  controul, 

And  smooth  his  words  had  been  from  youth. 

18. 

Both,  both  were  brave ;  the  Saxon  spear 
Was  shiver'd  oft  beneath  their  steel ; 

And  Oscar's  bosom  scorn'd  to  fear, 
But  Oscar's  bosom  knew  to  feel ; 

19. 

While  Allan's  soul  belied  his  form. 
Unworthy  with  such  charms  to  dwell : 

Keen  as  the  lightning  of  the  storm. 
On  foes  his  deadly  vengeance  fell. 

20. 

From  high  Southannon's  distant  tower 

Arrived  a  young  and  noble  dame ; 
With  Kenneth's  lands  to  form  her  dower, 

Glenalvon's  blue-eyed  daughter  came  ; 

21. 

And  Oscar  claim'd  the  beauteous  bride, 

And  Angus  on  his  Oscar  smil'd  : 
It  soothed  the  father's  feudal  pride 

Thus  to  obtain  Glenalvon's  child. 


136  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

22. 

Hark  !  to  the  Pibroch's  pleasing  note, 
Hark  !  to  the  swelling  nuptial  song, 

In  joyous  strains  the  voices  float, 
And,  still,  the  choral  peal  prolong. 

23. 

See  how  the  Heroes'  blood-red  plumes 
Assembled  wave  in  Alva's  hall ; 

Each  youth  his  varied  plaid  assumes, 
Attending  on  their  chieftain's  call. 

24. 

It  is  not  war  their  aid  demands. 
The  Pibroch  plays  the  song  of  peace  ; 

To  Oscar's  nuptials  throng  the  bands 
Nor  yet  the  sounds  of  pleasure  cease. 

25- 
But  where  is  Oscar  ?  sure  'tis  late  : 

Is  this  a  bridegroom's  ardent  flame  ? 
While  thronging  guests  and  ladies  wait, 

Nor  Oscar  nor  his  brother  came. 

26. 

At  length  young  Allan  join'd  the  bride; 

"  Why  comes  not  Oscar  ?  "  Angus  said 
"  Is  he  not  here  ?  "  the  Youth  replied  ; 
With  me  he  rov'd  not  o'er  the  glade ; 


OSCAR   OF   ALVA.  I37 

27. 

"  Perchance,  forgetful  of  the  day, 
'Tis  his  to  chase  the  bounding  roc ; 

Or  Ocean's  waves  prolong  his  stay ; 
Yet,  Oscar's  bark  is  seldom  slow." 

28. 

"  Oh,  no  ! "  the  anguish'd  Sire  rejoin'd, 
"  Nor  chase,  nor  wave,  my  Boy  delay ; 

Would  he  to  Mora  seem  unkind  ? 
Would  aught  to  her  impede  his  way  ? 

29. 

"  Oh,  search,  ye  Chiefs  !  oh,  search  around  ! 

Allan,  with  these,  through  Alva  fly ; 
Till  Oscar,  till  my  son  is  found. 

Haste,  haste,  nor  dare  attempt  reply." 

30- 
All  is  confusion — through  the  vale, 

The  name  of  Oscar  hoarsely  rings, 
It  rises  on  the  murm'ring  gale, 

Till  night  expands  her  dusky  wings. 

31. 
It  breaks  the  stillness  of  the  night. 

But  echoes  through  her  shades  in  vain ; 
It  sounds  through  morning's  misty  light, 

But  Oscar  comes  not  o'er  the  plain. 


138  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Three  days,  three  sleepless  nights,  the  Chief 
For  Oscar  search'd  each  mountain  cave ; 

Then  hope  is  lost ;  in  boundless  grief, 
His  locks  in  grey-torn  ringlets  wave. 

33. 
"  Oscar  !  my  son  ! — thou  God  of  Heav'n, 

Restore  the  prop  of  sinking  age  ! 
Or,  if  that  hope  no  more  is  given, 

Yield  his  assassin  to  my  rage. 

34- 
"  Yes,  on  some  desert  rocky  shore 

My  Oscar's  whiten'd  bones  must  lie ; 
Then  grant,  thou  God  !  I  ask  no  more. 

With  him  his  frantic  Sire  may  die  i 

35. 
"  Yet,  he  may  live, — away,  despair  ! 

Be  calm,  my  soul !  he  yet  may  live ; 
T'  arraign  my  fate,  my  voice  forbear ! 

0  God  !  my  impious  prayer  forgive. 

36. 
"  What,  if  he  live  for  me  no  more, 

1  sink  forgotten  in  the  dust, 
The  hope  of  Alva's  age  is  o'er  : 

Alas  !  can  pangs  like  these  be  just  ?  " 


OSCAR   OF    ALVA.  1 39 

Thus  did  the  hapless  Parent  mourn, 
Till  Time,  who  soothes  severest  woe, 

Had  bade  serenity  return, 

And  made  the  tear-drop  cease  to  flow. 

38. 
For,  still,  some  latent  hope  surviv'd 

That  Oscar  might  once  more  appear ; 
His  hope  now  droop'd  and  now  revived. 

Till  Time  had  told  a  tedious  year. 

39. 
Days  roird  along,  the  orb  of  light 

Again  had  nm  his  destined  race ; 
No  Oscar  bless'd  his  father's  sight, 

And  sorrow  left  a  fainter  trace. 

40. 

For  youthful  Allan  still  remain'd. 

And,  now,  his  father's  only  joy : 
And  Mora's  heart  was  quickly  gain'd, 

For  beauty  crown'd  the  fair-hair'd  boy. 

41. 

She  thought  that  Oscar  low  was  laid, 
And  Allan's  face  was  wondrous  fair ; 

If  Oscar  liv'd,  some  other  maid 

Had  claim'd  his  faithless  bosom's  care. 


140  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

42. 

And  Angus  said,  if  one  year  more 
In  fruitless  hope  was  pass'd  away, 

His  fondest  scruples  should  be  o'er, 
And  he  would  name  their  nuptial  day. 

43. 

Slow  roll'd  the  moons,  but  blest  at  last 
Arriv'd  the  dearly  destin'd  morn  : 

The  year  of  anxious  trembling  past. 
What  smiles  the  lovers'  cheeks  adorn  ! 

44. 

Hark  to  the  Pibroch's  pleasing  note  ! 

Hark  to  the  swelling  nuptial  song  ! 
In  joyous  strains  the  voices  float, 

And,  still,  the  choral  peal  prolong. 

45- 
Again  the  clan,  in  festive  crowd, 

Throng  through  the  gate  of  Alva's  hall ; 
The  sounds  of  mirth  re-echo  loud, 

And  all  their  former  joy  recall. 

46. 

But  who  is  he,  whose  darken'd  brow 
Glooms  in  the  midst  of  general  mirth  ? 

Before  his  eyes'  far  fiercer  glow 

The  blue  flames  curdle  o'er  the  hearth. 


OSCAR   OF    ALVA.  I4I 

Dark  is  the  robe  which  wraps  his  form, 

And  tall  his  plume  of  gory  red ; 
His  voice  is  like  the  rising  storm, 

But  light  and  trackless  is  his  tread. 

48. 

'Tis  noon  of  night,  the  pledge  goes  round, 
The  bridegroom's  health  is  deeply  quafi'd ; 

With  shouts  the  vaulted  roofs  resound. 
And  all  combine  to  hail  the  draught. 

49. 

Sudden  the  stranger-chief  arose. 

And  all  the  clamorous  crowd  are  hush'd ; 

And  Angus'  cheek  with  wonder  glows, 
And  Mora's  tender  bosom  blush'd. 

50. 

"  Old  man  ! "  he  cried,  "  this  pledge  is  done. 
Thou  saw' St  'twas  truly  drunk  by  me ; 

It  hail'd  the  nuptials  of  thy  son  : 

Now  will  I  claim  a  pledge  from  thee. 

51. 
"  While  all  around  is  mirth  and  joy, 

To  bless  thy  Allan's  happy  lot. 
Say,  hadst  thou  ne'er  another  boy  ? 

Say,  why  should  Oscar  be  forgot  ?  " 


142  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

"  Alas  !  "  the  hapless  Sire  replied, 

The  big  tear  starting  as  he  spoke, 
"  When  Oscar  left  my  hall,  or  died, 

This  aged  heart  was  almost  broke. 

53. 
"  Thrice  has  the  earth  revolv'd  her  course 

Since  Oscar's  form  has  bless'd  my  sight ; 
And  Allan  is  my  last  resource, 

Since  martial  Oscar's  death,  or  flight." 

54- 
"  'Tis  well,"  replied  the  stranger  stern, 

And  fiercely  flash'd  his  rolling  eye ; 
"  Thy  Oscar's  fate,  I  fain  would  learn 

Perhaps  the  Hero  did  not  die. 

55- 
"  Perchance,  if  those,  whom  most  he  lov'd, 

Would  call,  thy  Oscar  might  return ; 
Perchance,  the  chief  has  only  rov'd  ; 

For  him  thy  Beltane,  yet,  may  burn.^ 

56. 

"  Fill  high  the  bowl  the  table  round. 
We  will  not  claim  the  pledge  by  stealth ; 

With  wine  let  every  cup  be  crown'd ; 

Pledge  me  departed  Oscar's  health." 

I.  Beltane  Tree,  a  Highland  festival  on  the  first  of  May, 
held  near  fires  lighted  for  the  occasion. 


OSCAR    OF    ALV/..  1 43 

*'  With  all  my  soul,"  old  Angus  said, 

And  fiU'd  his  goblet  to  the  brim  : 
"  Here's  to  my  boy  !  alive  or  dead, 

I  ne'er  shall  find  a  son  like  him." 

58. 

"  Bravely,  old  man,  this  health  has  sped ; 

But  why  does  Allan  trembling  stand  ? 
Come,  drink  remembrance  of  the  dead, 

And  raise  thy  cup  with  firmer  hand." 

59- 
The  crimson  glow  of  Allan's  face 

Was  turn'd  at  once  to  ghastly  hue ; 
The  drops  of  death  each  other  chace, 

Adown  in  agonizing  dew. 

60. 

Thrice  did  he  raise  the  goblet  high, 
And  thrice  his  lips  refused  to  taste ; 

For  thrice  he  caught  the  stranger's  eye 
On  his  with  deadly  fury  plac'd. 

61. 

"  And  is  it  thus  a  brother  hails 
A  brother's  fond  remembrance  here  ? 

If  thus  affection's  strength  prevails, 
What  might  we  not  expect  from  fear  ?  " 


144  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

62. 

Roused  by  the  sneer,  he  rais'd  the  bowl, 

"  Would  Oscar  now  could  share  our  mirth  !  " 

Internal  fear  appall'd  his  soul ;  '• 

He  said,  and  dash'd  the  cup  to  earth. 

63- 

"  'Tis  he  !  I  hear  my  murderer's  voice  ! " 
Loud  shrieks  a  darkly  gleaming  Form. 

"  A  murderer's  voice  !  "  the  roof  replies, 
And  deeply  swells  the  bursting  storm. 

64. 

The  tapers  wink,  the  chieftains  shrink, 
The  stranger's  gone, — amidst  the  crew, 

A  Form  was  seen,  in  tartan  green, 
And  tall  the  shade  terrific  grew. 

65- 

His  waist  was  bound  with  a  broad  belt  round, 
His  plume  of  sable  stream'd  on  high ; 

But  his  breast  was  bare,  with  the  red  wounds  there, 
And  fix'd  was  the  glare  of  his  glassy  eye. 

66. 
And  thrice  he  smil'd,  with  his  eye  so  wild 

On  Angus  bending  low  the  knee ; 
And  thrice  he  frown'd,  on  a  Chief  on  the  ground, 
Whom  shivering  crowds  with  horror  see. 
i.  Internal  fears . — {Hours  of  Idleness.'] 


OSCAR   OF    ALVA.  I45 

67. 

The  bolts  loud  roll  from  pole  to  pole, 

And  thunders  through  the  welkin  ring, 
And  the  gleaming  form,  through  the  mist  of  the  storm, 

Was  borne  on  high  by  the  whirlwind's  wing. 

68. 

Cold  was  the  feast,  the  revel  ceas'd. 

Who  lies  upon  the  stony  floor  ? 
Oblivion  press'd  old  Angus'  breast,'- 

At  length  his  life-pulse  throbs  once  more^ 

69. 

*'  Away,  away  !  let  the  leech  essay 

To  pour  the  light  on  Allan's  eyes  : " 
His  sand  is  done, — his  race  is  run  ; 

Oh  !  never  more  shall  Allan  rise  ! 

70. 
But  Oscar's  breast  is  cold  as  clay. 

His  locks  are  lifted  by  the  gale ; 
And  Allan's  barbed  arrow  lay 

With  him  in  dark  Glentanar's  vale. 

71- 

And  whence  the  dreadful  stranger  came, 

Or  who,  no  mortal  wight  can  tell ; 
But  no  one  doubts  the  form  of  flame. 

For  Alva's  sons  knew  Oscar  well. 

i.   Old  Angus  pr est,  the  earth  xtith  his  breast. — {^Hours  of  Idleness. 'X 
VOL.  I.  L 


146  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 

72. 

Ambition  nerv'd  young  Allan's  hand, 
Exulting  demons  wing'd  his  dart ; 

While  Envy  wav'd  her  burning  brand, 
And  pour'd  her  venom  round  his  heart. 

73. 

Swift  is  the  shaft  from  Allan's  bow ; 

Whose  streaming  life-blood  stains  his  side  ? 
Dark  Oscar's  sable  crest  is  low, 

The  dart  has  drunk  his  vital  tide. 

74. 
And  Mora's  eye  could  Allan  move. 

She  bade  his  wounded  pride  rebel : 
Alas  !  that  eyes,  which  beam'd  with  love. 

Should  urge  the  soul  to  deeds  of  Hell. 

75- 
Lo  !  see'st  thou  not  a  lonely  tomb, 

Which  rises  o'er  a  warrior  dead  ? 
It  glimmers  through  the  twilight  gloom  ; 

Oh  !  that  is  Allan's  nuptial  bed. 

76. 

Far,  distant  far,  the  noble  grave 

Which  held  his  clan's  great  ashes  stood  j 

And  o'er  his  corse  no  banners  wave, 

For  they  were  stain'd  with  kindred  blood. 


TRANSLATION    FROM    ANACREON.  I47 

Wliat  minstrel  grey,  what  hoary  bard, 
Shall  Allan's  deeds  on  harp-strings  raise  ? 

The  song  is  glory's  chief  reward. 

But  who  can  strike  a  murd'rer's  praise  ? 

78. 

Unstrung,  untouch'd,  the  harp  must  stand, 
No  minstrel  dare  the  theme  awake ; 

Guilt  would  benumb  his  palsied  hand, 

His  harp  in  shuddering  chords  would  break. 

79- 

No  lyre  of  fame,  no  hallow'd  verse. 

Shall  sound  his  glories  high  in  air ; 
A  dying  father's  bitter  curse, 

A  brother's  death-groan  echoes  there. 


TRANSLATION   FROM   ANACREON. 

0eA(0  \4yetv  'ArpciSos,  k.t.A.^ 

ODE    I. 

TO    HIS    LYRE. 

I  WISH  to  tune  my  quivering  l)rre,'* 
To  deeds  of  fame,  and  notes  of  fire  ; 

i.  I  sought  to  iuiie . — \MS.  Newstead.} 

I.  [The  motto  does  not  appear  in  Hours  of  Idleness  or 
Poems  O.  and  7'.] 


148  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

To  echo,  from  its  rising  swell, 
How  heroes  fought  and  nations  fell, 
When  Atreus'  sons  advanc'd  to  war, 
Or  Tyrian  Cadmus  rov'd  afar ; 
But  still,  to  martial  strains  unknown, 
My  lyre  recurs  to  Love  alone. 
Fir'd  with  the  hope  of  future  fame,** 
I  seek  some  nobler  Hero's  name ; 
The  dying  chords  are  strung  anew, 
To  war,  to  war,  my  harp  is  due  : 
With  glowing  strings,  the  Epic  strain 
To  Jove's  great  son  I  raise  again ; 
Alcides  and  his  glorious  deeds. 
Beneath  whose  arm  the  Hydra  bleeds ; 
All,  all  in  vain ;  my  wayward  lyre 
Wakes  silver  notes  of  soft  Desire. 
Adieu,  ye  Chiefs  renown'd  in  arms  ! 
Adieu  the  clang  of  War's  alarms  !  "• 
To  other  deeds  my  soul  is  strung, 
And  sweeter  notes  shall  now  be  sung ; 
My  harp  shall  all  its  powers  reveal. 
To  tell  the  tale  my  heart  must  feel ; 
Love,  Love  alone,  my  lyre  shall  claim, 
In  songs  of  bliss  and  sighs  of  flame. 

i.    The  chords  resumed  a  second  strain^ 

To  Jffvis  great  son  I  strike  again. 

Alcides  and  his  glorious  deeds, 

Beneath  whose  arm  the  Hydra  bleeds. — \MS.  Newstead.\ 
ii.    The  Trumpet's  blast  ivith  these  accords 

To  sound  the  clash  of  hostile  swords — 

Be  mine  the  softer,  sweeter  care 

To  soothe  the  young  and  virgin  Fair. — [MS.  Xewstead.'] 


FROM    ANACREON.  I49 

FROM   ANACREON. 

MeffoyvKTiois  iroO*  &paiSt  k.t.X.^ 
ODE   3. 

*TwAS  now  the  hour  when  Night  had  driven 

Her  car  half  round  yon  sable  heaven  ; 

Bootes,  only,  seem'd  to  roll '' 

His  Arctic  charge  around  the  Pole  ; 

While  mortals,  lost  in  gentle  sleep, 

Forgot  to  smile,  or  ceas'd  to  weep  : 

At  this  lone  hour  the  Paphian  boy. 

Descending  from  the  realms  of  joy, 

Quick  to  my  gate  directs  his  course, 

And  knocks  with  all  his  little  force ; 

My  visions  fled,  alarm'd  I  rose, — 

"  What  stranger  breaks  my  blest  repose  ?  " 

"  Alas  ! "  replies  the  wily  child 

In  faltering  accents  sweetly  mild  ; 

"  A  hapless  Infant  here  I  roam, 

Far  from  my  dear  maternal  home. 

Oh  !  shield  me  from  the  wintry  blast ! 

The  nightly  storm  is  pouring  fast. 

No  prowling  robber  lingers  here ; 

A  wandering  baby  who  can  fear  ?  " 

i.  The  Newstead  MS.  inserts— 

M>  Moon  in  silver  robe  was  seen 
Nor  ien  a  trembling  star  between. 

I.  [The  motto  does  not  appear  in  Hours  of  Idleness  or 
Poems  O.  and  7\] 


150  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

I  heard  his  seeming  artless  tale,*- 

I  heard  his  sighs  upon  the  gale  : 

My  breast  was  never  pity's  foe, 

But  felt  for  all  the  baby's  woe. 

I  drew  the  bar,  and  by  the  light 

Young  Love,  the  infant,  met  my  sight ; 

His  bow  across  his  shoulders  flung, 

And  thence  his  fatal  quiver  hung 

(Ah  !  little  did  I  think  the  dart 

Would  rankle  soon  within  my  heart). 

With  care  I  tend  my  weary  guest, 

His  little  fingers  chill  my  breast ; 

His  glossy  curls,  his  azure  wing. 

Which  droop  with  nightly  showers,  I  wring ; 

His  shivering  limbs  the  embers  warm ; 

And  now  reviving  from  the  storm, 

Scarce  had  he  felt  his  wonted  glow, 

Than  swift  he  seized  his  slender  bow  : — 

"  I  fain  would  know,  my  gentle  host," 

He  cried,  "  if  this  its  strength  has  lost ; 

i.   Touched  with  the  seeming  artless  tale 
Compassion^ s  tears  o'er  doubt  prevail ; 
Meihought  I  vieiued  him,  cold  and  dampy 
I  trimmed  anew  my  dying  lamp. 
Drew  back  the  bar — and  by  the  light 
A  pinioned  Infant  met  my  sight ; 
His  bow  across  his  shoulders  slung. 
And  hence  a  gilded  quiver  hung ; 
With  care  I  tend  my  weary  guest. 
His  shivering  hands  by  mine  are  pressed : 
My,  hearth  I  load  tvith  embers  warm 
To  dry  the  dew  drops  of  the  storm : 
Drenched  by  the  rain  of  yonder  sky 
The  strings  are  weak — but  let  us  try. — [AfS.  Neivstead.'] 


THE   EPISODE   OF   NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  151 

I  fear,  relax'd  with  midnight  dews, 

The  strings  their  former  aid  refuse." 

With  poison  tipt,  his  arrow  flies, 

Deep  in  my  tortur'd  heart  it  Hes : 

Then  loud  the  joyous  Urchin  laugh'd  : — 

"  My  bow  can  still  impel  the  shaft : 

'Tis  firmly  fix'd,  thy  sighs  reveal  it ; 

Say,  courteous  host,  canst  thou  not  feel  it  ?  " 


THE   EPISODE   OF   NISUS  AND   EURYALUS.^ 

A    PARAPHRASE    FROM    THE    "  .ENEID,"    LIB.    9. 

Nisus,  the  guardian  of  the  portal,  stood. 
Eager  to  gild  his  arms  with  hostile  blood ; 
Well  skill'd,  in  fight,  the  quivering  lance  to  wield, 
Or  pour  his  arrows  thro'  th'  embattled  field : 
From  Ida  torn,  he  left  his  sylvan  cave,'- 
And  sought  a  foreign  home,  a  distant  grave. 

i.  Him  Ida  sent,  a  hunte?;  noiu  no  more^ 
To  combat  foes,  upon  aforeigfi  shore ; 
Near  him,  the  loveliest  of  the  Trojan  band. 
Did  fair  Euryahis,  his  comrade,  stand ; 
Fe-iV  are  the  seasons  of  his  youthful  life. 
As  yet  a  novice  in  the  martial  strife : 
The  Gods  to  him  unwonted  gifts  impart, 
A  females  beauty,  loith  a  herds  heart. — [/*.  on  V.  OccasioJts.] 
From  Ida  torn  he  lift  his  native  grove. 
Through  distant  climes,  and  trackless  seas  to  rove. — 

[Hours  of  Idleness.] 

I.  [Lines  1-18  were  first  published  in  P.  oti  V.  Occasions, 
under  the  title  of  "  Fragment  of  a  Translation  from  the 
9th  Book  of  Virgil's  ALfieid.''\ 


152  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

To  watch  the  movements  of  the  Daunian  host, 

With  him  Euryalus  sustains  the  post ; 

No  lovelier  mien  adom'd  the  ranks  of  Troy, 

And  beardless  bloom  yet  grac'd  the  gallant  boy ;        to 

Though  few  the  seasons  of  his  youthful  life, 

As  yet  a  novice  in  the  martial  strife, 

'Twas  his,  with  beauty.  Valour's  gifts  to  share— 

A  soul  heroic,  as  his  fonu  was  fair  : 

These  burn  with  one  pure  flame  of  generous  love ; 

In  peace,  in  war,  united  still  they  move ; 

Friendship  and  Glory  form  their  joint  reward ; 

And,  now,  combin'd  they  hold  their  nightly  guard.'- 

"  What  God,"  exclaim'd  the  first,  "  instils  this  fire  ? 
Or,  in  itself  a  God,  what  great  desire  ?  20 

My  lab'ring  soul,  with  anxious  thought  oppress'd, 
Abhors  this  station  of  inglorious  rest ; 
The  love  of  fame  with  this  can  ill  accord, 
Be't  mine  to  seek  for  glory  with  my  sword. 
See'st  thou  yon  camp,  with  torches  twinkling  dim, 
Where  drunken  slumbers  wrap  each  lazy  limb  ? 
Where  confidence  and  ease  the  watch  disdain, 
And  drowsy  Silence  holds  her  sable  reign  ? 
Then  hear  my  thought ; — In  deep  and  sullen  grief 
Our  troops  and  leaders  mourn  their  absent  chief :      30 


i.  And  now  combin'd^  the  massy  gate  they  guard. — 

[/*.  on  V.  Occasions. \ 
they  hold  the  nightly  guard. — [Hours  of  Idleness. '[ 


THE    EriSODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  153 

Now  could  the  gifts  and  promised  prize  be  thine, 
(The  deed,  the  danger,  and  the  fame  be  mine,) 
Were  this  decreed,  beneath  yon  rising  mound, 
Methinks,  an  easy  path,  perchance,  were  found ; 
Which  past,  I  speed  my  way  to  Pallas'  walls, 
And  lead  ^neas  from  Evander's  halls.'* 

With  equal  ardour  fir'd,  and  warlike  joy, 
His  glowing  friend  address'd  the  Dardan  boy  : — 
"  These  deeds,  my  Nisus,  shalt  thou  dare  alone  ? 
Must  all  the  fame,  the  peril,  be  thine  own  ?  40 

Am  I  by  thee  despis'd,  and  left  afar, 
As  one  unfit  to  share  the  toils  of  war  ? 
Not  thus  his  son  the  great  Opheltes  taught : 
Not  thus  my  sire  in  Argive  combats  fought ; 
Not  thus,  when  I  lion  fell  by  heavenly  hate, 
I  track'd  ^neas  through  the  walks  of  fate : 
Thou  know'st  my  deeds,  my  breast  devoid  of  fear, 
And  hostile  life-drops  dim  my  gory  spear. 
Here  is  a  soul  with  hope  immortal  burns. 
And  life^  ignoble  life^  for  Glory  spurns.*-  50 

Fame,  fame  is  cheaply  earn'd  by  fleeting  breath  : 
The  price  of  honour,  is  the  sleep  of  death." 

Then  Nisus  :— "  Calm  thy  bosom's  fond  alarms  :  ''• 
Thy  heart  beats  fiercely  to  the  din  of  arms. 

i.  And  Love,  and  Life  alike  the  glory  spurned. — \MS.  Newstead.'\ 
ii.    Then  Nisus,  ^^  Ah,  my  friend — zu/iy  thus  suspect 

Thy  youthful  breast  admits  of  710  defect'' — \^MS.  A'ru>sfead,'\ 


154  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

More  dear  thy  worth,  and  valour  than  my  own, 

I  swear  by  him,  who  fills  Olympus*  throne  ! 

So  may  I  triumph,  as  I  speak  the  truth, 

And  clasp  again  the  comrade  of  my  youth  ! 

But  should  I  fall, — and  he,  who  dares  advance 

Through  hostile  legions,  must  abide  by  chance, —      60 

If  some  Rutulian  arm,  with  adverse  blow, 

Should  lay  the  friend,  who  ever  loVd  thee,  low, 

Live  thou — such  beauties  I  would  fain  preserve — 

Thy  budding  years  a  lengthen' d  term  deserve ; 

When  humbled  in  the  dust,  let  some  one  be, 

Whose  gentle  eyes  will  shed  one  tear  for  me ; 

Whose  manly  arm  may  snatch  me  back  by  force, 

Or  wealth  redeem,  from  foes,  my  captive  corse ; 

Or,  if  my  destiny  these  last  deny. 

If,  in  the  spoiler's  power,  my  ashes  lie;  70 

Thy  pious  care  may  raise  a  simple  tomb, 

To  mark  thy  love,  and  signalise  my  doom. 

Why  should  thy  doating  wretched  mother  weep 

Her  only  boy,  reclin'd  in  endless  sleep  ? 

Who,  for  thy  sake,  the  tempest's  fury  dar'd, 

Who,  for  thy  sake,  war's  deadly  peril  shar'd ; 

Who  brav'd  what  woman  never  brav'd  before, 

And  left  her  native,  for  the  Latian  shore." 

"  In  vain  you  damp  the  ardour  of  my  soul," 
Replied  Euryalus  ;  "  it  scorns  controul ;  80 

Hence,  let  us  haste  !  " — their  brother  guards  arose, 


THE    EPISODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  1 55 

Rous'd  by  their  call,  nor  court  again  repose ; 
The  pair,  buoy'd  up  on  Hope's  exulting  wing, 
Their  stations  leave,  and  speed  to  seek  the  king. 

Now,  o'er  the  earth  a  solemn  stillness  ran, 
And  lull'd  alike  the  cares  of  brute  and  man ; 
Save  where  the  Dardan  leaders,  nightly,  hold 
Alternate  converse,  and  their  plans  unfold. 
On  one  great  point  the  council  are  agreed, 
An  instant  message  to  their  prince  decreed;  90 

Each  lean'd  upon  the  lance  he  well  could  wield. 
And  pois'd  with  easy  arm  his  ancient  shield ; 
When  Nisus  and  his  friend  their  leave  request, 
To  offer  something  to  their  high  behest. 
With  anxious  tremors,  yet  unaw'd  by  fear,^ 
The  faithful  pair  before  the  throne  appear ; 
lulus  greets  them ;  at  his  kind  command, 
The  elder,  first,  address'd  the  hoary  band. 

"  With  patience  "  (thus  Hyrtacides  began) 

"  Attend,  nor  judge,  from  youth,  our  humble  plan,  too 

Where  yonder  beacons  half-expiring  beam, 

Our  slumbering  foes  of  future  conquest  dream,"- 

Nor  heed  that  we  a  secret  path  have  trac'd, 

Between  the  ocean  and  the  portal  plac'd ; 

Beneath  the  covert  of  the  blackening  smoke, 

Whose  shade,  securely,  our  design  will  cloak  ! 

i.    Trembling  with  diffidence  not  awed  by  fear. — \^MS.  Newstead.\ 
ii.   The  vain  Rutulians  lost  in  slumber  dream. — \MS.  N'ewstead.] 


156  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

If  you,  ye  Chiefs,  and  Fortune  will  allow, 

We'll  bend  our  course  to  yonder  mountain's  brow, 

Where  Pallas'  walls,  at  distance,  meet  the  sight, 

Seen  o'er  the  glade,  when  not  obscur'd  by  night :     no 

Then  shall  ^neas  in  his  pride  return. 

While  hostile  matrons  raise  their  offspring's  urn ; 

And  Latian  spoils,  and  purpled  heaps  of  dead 

Shall  mark  the  havoc  of  our  Hero's  tread ; 

Such  is  our  purpose,  not  unknown  the  way. 

Where  yonder  torrent's  devious  waters  stray ; 

Oft  have  we  seen,  when  hunting  by  the  stream, 

The  distant  spires  above  the  valleys  gleam." 

Mature  in  years,  for  sober  wisdom  fam'd, 
Mov'd  by  the  speech,  Alethes  here  exclaim'd, —      120 
"  Ye  parent  gods  !  who  rule  the  fate  of  Troy, 
Still  dwells  the  Dardan  spirit  in  the  boy  j 
When  minds,  like  these,  in  striplings  thus  ye  raise. 
Yours  is  the  godlike  act,  be  yours  the  praise ; 
In  gallant  youth,  my  fainting  hopes  revive, 
And  Ilion's  wonted  glories  still  survive." 
Then  in  his  warm  embrace  the  boys  he  press'd, 
And,  quivering,  strain'd  them  to  his  age'd  breast ; 
With  tears  the  burning  cheek  of  each  bedew'd. 
And,  sobbing,  thus  his  first  discourse  renew'd : —     130 
"  What  gift,  my  countrymen,  what  martial  prize, 
Can  we  bestow,  which  you  may  not  despise  ? 
Our  Deities  the  first  best  boon  have  given — 


THE    EPISODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  1 57 

Internal  virtues  are  the  gift  of  Heaven. 

What  poor  rewards  can  bless  your  deeds  on  earth, 

Doubtless  await  such  young,  exalted  worth ; 

^neas  and  Ascanius  shall  combine 

To  yield  applause  far,  far  surpassing  mine." 

lulus  then  : — "  By  all  the  powers  above  ! 
By  those  Penates,  who  my  country  love  !  140 

By  hoary  Vesta's  sacred  Fane,  I  swear, 
My  hopes  are  all  in  you,  ye  generous  pair  ! 
Restore  my  father,  to  my  grateful  siglit. 
And  all  my  sorrows,  yield  to  one  delight. 
Nisus  !  two  silver  goblets  are  thine  own, 
Sav'd  from  Arisba's  stately  domes  o'erthrown ; 
My  sire  secured  them  on  that  fatal  day. 
Nor  left  such  bowls  an  Argive  robber's  prey. 
Two  massy  tripods,  also,  shall  be  thine, 
Two  talents  polish'd  from  the  glittering  mine;  150 

An  ancient  cup,  which  Tyrian  Dido  gave, 
While  yet  our  vessels  press'd  the  Punic  wave  : 
But  when  the  hostile  chiefs  at  length  bow  down, 
When  great  ^neas  wears  Hesperia's  crown. 
The  casque,  the  buckler,  and  the  fiery  steed 
Which  Turnus  guides  with  more  than  mortal  speed. 
Are  thine ;  no  envious  lot  shall  then  be  cast, 
I  pledge  my  word,  irrevocably  past : 
Nay  more,  twelve  slaves,  and  twice  six  captive  dames, 
To  soothe  thy  softer  hours  with  amorous  flames,       160 


158  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

And  all  the  realms,  which  now  the  Latins  sway, 

The  labours  of  to-night  shall  well  repay. 

But  thou,  my  generous  youth,  whose  tender  years 

Are  near  my  own,  whose  worth  my  heart  reveres, 

Henceforth,  affection,  sweetly  thus  begun, 

Shall  join  our  bosoms  and  our  souls  in  one; 

Without  thy  aid,  no  glory  shall  be  mine. 

Without  thy  dear  advice,  no  great  design ; 

Alike,  through  life,  esteem'd,  thou  godlike  boy, 

In  war  my  bulwark,  and  in  peace  my  joy."  170 

To  him  E^uryalus  : — "  No  day  shall  shame 
The  rising  glories  which  from  this  I  claim. 
Fortune  may  favour,  or  the  skies  may  frown, 
But  valour,  spite  of  fate,  obtains  renown. 
Yet,  ere  from  hence  our  eager  steps  depart. 
One  boon  I  beg,  the  nearest  to  my  heart : 
My  mother,  sprung  from  Priam's  royal  line, 
Like  thine  ennobled,  hardly  less  divine. 
Nor  Troy  nor  king  Acestes'  realms  restrain 
Her  feeble  age  from  dangers  of  the  main;  180 

Alone  she  came,  all  selfish  fears  above,'- 
A  bright  example  of  maternal  love. 
Unknown,  the  secret  enterprise  I  brave, 
Lest  grief  should  bend  my  parent  to  the  grave ; 
From  this  alone  no  fond  adieus  I  seek. 
No  fainting  mother's  lips  have  press'd  my  cheek ; 
i.  Hither  she  came . — {Hours  of  Idleness.  \ 


THE    EPISODE   OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  1 59 

By  gloomy  Night  and  thy  right  hand  I  vow, 

Her  parting  tears  would  shake  my  purpose  now ;  •• 

Do  thou,  my  prince,  her  failing  age  sustain. 

In  thee  her  much-lov'd  child  may  live  again;  190 

Her  dying  hours  with  pious  conduct  bless, 

Assist  her  wants,  relieve  her  fond  distress  : 

So  dear  a  hope  must  all  my  soul  enflame,"' 

To  rise  in  glory,  or  to  fall  in  fame." 

Struck  with  a  filial  care  so  deeply  felt. 

In  tears  at  once  the  Trojan  warriors  melt ; 

Faster  than  all,  lulus'  eyes  o'erflow  ! 

Such  love  was  his,  and  such  had  been  his  woe. 

"  All  thou  hast  ask'd,  receive,"  the  Prince  replied ; 

"  Nor  this  alone,  but  many  a  gift  beside.  200 

To  cheer  thy  mother's  years  shall  be  my  aim 

Creusa's  ^  style  but  wanting  to  the  dame ; 

Fortune  an  adverse  wayward  course  may  run, 

But  bless'd  thy  mother  in  so  dear  a  son. 

Now,  by  my  life  ! — my  Sire's  most  sacred  oath — 

To  thee  I  pledge  my  full,  my  firmest  troth, 

All  the  rewards  which  once  to  thee  were  vow'd,"'- 

If  thou  should' St  fall,  on  her  shall  be  bestow'd." 

Thus  spoke  the  weeping  Prince,  then  forth  to  view 

A  gleaming  falchion  from  the  sheath  he  drew;         210 

i.  Her  falling  tears . — \MS.  Netv  stead.'] 

ii.    With  this  assurance  Fatis  attempts  are  vain  ; 

Fearless  I  dare  the  foes  of  yonder  plain.— \MS.  Ne^vstead.] 
iii.    That  all  the  gifts  which  once  to  thee  u<ere  vowed.  — \MS.  Newstead.  ] 

I.  The  mother  of  lulus,  lost  on  the  night  when  Troy  was 
taken. 


l6o  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Lycaon's  utmost  skill  had  grac'd  the  steel, 
For  friends  to  envy  and  for  foes  to  feel : 
A  tawny  hide,  the  Moorish  lion's  spoils- 
Slain  'midst  the  forest  in  the  hunter's  toil, 
Mnestheus  to  guard  the  elder  youth  bestows,"* 
And  old  Alethes'  casque  defends  his  brows ; 
Arm'd,  thence  they  go,  while  all  th'  assembl'd  train, 
To  aid  their  cause,  implore  the  gods  in  vain.'"- 
More  than  a  boy,  in  wisdom  and  in  grace, 
lulus  holds  amidst  the  chiefs  his  place  :  220 

His  prayer  he  sends ;  but  what  can  prayers  avail, 
Lost  in  the  murmurs  of  the  sighing  gale  ?  '''• 

The  trench  is  pass'd,  and  favour'd  by  the  night, 
Through  sleeping  foes,  they  wheel  their  wary  flight. 
When  shall  the  sleep  of  many  a  foe  be  o'er  ? 
Alas  !  some  slumber,  who  shall  wake  no  more  ! 
Chariots  and  bridles,  mix'd  with  arms,  are  seen, 
And  flowing  flasks,  and  scatter'd  troops  between : 
Bacchus  and  Mars,  to  rule  the  camp,  combine ; 
A  mingled  Chaos  this  of  war  and  wine.  230 

"  Now,"  cries  the  first,  "  for  deeds  of  blood  prepare, 
With  me  the  conquest  and  the  labour  share : 
Here  lies  our  path ;  lest  any  hand  arise, 

i.  A  taivny  skin  the  furious  lion's  spoil. — {MS.  Newstead.'] 
ii.  Mnestheus  presented^  and  the  Warrior's  mask 

Alethes  gave  a  doubly  tempered  casque. — \MS.  New  stead. '\ 
iii.   To  glad  their  journey,  follow  them  in  vain. — \MS.  Newstead.} 
iv.  Dispersed  and  scattered  on  the  sighing  gale. —[MS.  Nezvstead.] 


THE    EPISODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURVALUS.  l6l 

Watch  thou,  while  many  a  dreaming  chieftain  dies ; 

I'll  carve  our  passage,  through  the  heedless  foe, 

And  clear  thy  road,  with  many  a  deadly  blow." 

His  whispering  accents  then  the  youth  repress'd. 

And  pierced  proud  Rhamnes  through  his  panting  breast : 

Stretch'd  at  his  ease,  th'  incautious  king  repos'd ; 

Debauch,  and  not  fatigue,  his  eyes  had  clos'd;         240 

To  Turnus  dear,  a  prophet  and  a  prince. 

His  omens  more  than  augur's  skill  evince ; 

But  he,  who  thus  foretold  the  fate  of  all. 

Could  not  avert  his  own  untimely  fall. 

Next  Remus'  armour-bearer,  hapless,  fell, 

And  three  unhappy  slaves  the  carnage  swell ; 

The  charioteer  along  his  courser's  sides 

Expires,  the  steel  his  sever'd  neck  divides ; 

And,  last,  his  Lord  is  number'd  with  the  dead  : 

Bounding  convulsive,  flies  the  gasping  head;  250 

From  the  swol'n  veins  the  blackening  toiTents  pour ; 

Stain'd  is  the  couch  and  earth  with  clotting  gore. 

Young  Lamyrus  and  Lamus  next  expire. 

And  gay  Serranus,  fiU'd  with  youthful  fire ; 

Half  the  long  night  in  childish  games  was  pass'd ; ' 

Lull'd  by  the  potent  grape,  he  slept  at  last : 

Ah  !  happier  far,  had  he  the  mom  survey'd. 

And,  till  Aurora's  dawn,  his  skill  display'd."- 


i.  By  Bacchais*  potent  drati^ht  'ujeigJCd  down  at  last 

Half  the  lon^ni^ht  in  c/uldisk  games  was  past. — [MS.  N'ewstead.\ 
ii.  disportive played. — \_MS,  A^e'.cstcad.\ 

VOL.  I.  M 


62  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

In  slaughter'd  folds,  the  keepers  lost  in  sleep,*- 
His  hungry  fangs  a  Hon  thus  may  steep;  260 

'Mid  the  sad  flock,  at  dead  of  night  he  prowls, 
With  murder  glutted,  and  in  carnage  rolls 
Insatiate  still,  through  teeming  herds  he  roams ;  "• 
In  seas  of  gore,  the  lordly  tyrant  foams. 

Nor  less  the  other's  deadly  vengeance  came, 
But  falls  on  feeble  crowds  without  a  name ; 
His  wound  unconscious  Fadus  scarce  can  feel, 
Yet  wakeful  Rhaesus  sees  the  threatening  steel ; 
His  coward  breast  behind  a  jar  he  hides, 
And,  vainly,  in  the  weak  defence  confides;  270 

Full  in  his  heart,  the  falchion  search'd  his  veins, 
The  reeking  weapon  bears  alternate  stains ; 
Through  wine  and  blood,  commingling  as  they  flow. 
One  feeble  spirit  seeks  the  shades  below. 
Now  where  Messapus  dwelt  they  bend  their  way, 
Whose  fires  emit  a  faint  and  trembling  ray ; 
There,  unconfin'd,  behold  each  grazing  steed, 
Un watch' d,  unheeded,  on  the  herbage  feed  :  '"• 
Brave  Nisus  here  arrests  his  comrade's  arm, 
Too  flush'd  with  carnage,  and  with  conquest  warm  :  280 
"  Hence  let  us  haste,  the  dangerous  path  is  pass'd ; 


i.  By  hunger  prest^  the  keeper  lulPd  to  sleep 

In  slaughter  thus  a  Lyon'' s  fangs  niay  steep. — [MS.  Newstead.'\ 
ii.   Through  teeming  herds  unchecked^  unawed,  he  roams. — 

[MS.  Nrujstead.] 
iii.  Heedless  of  danger  on  the  herbage  feed. — [MS.  N'ewstead.} 


THE    EPISODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  1 63 

Full  foes  enough,  to-night,  have  breath'd  their  last : 
Soon  will  the  Day  those  Eastern  clouds  adorn ; 
Now  let  us  speed,  nor  tempt  the  rising  morn." 

What  silver  arms,  with  various  art  cmboss'd, 
What  bowls  and  mantles,  in  confusion  toss'd, 
They  leave  regardless  !  yet  one  glittering  prize 
Attracts  the  younger  Hero's  wandering  eyes ; 
The  gilded  harness  Rhamnes'  coursers  felt, 
The  gems  which  stud  the  monarch's  golden  belt :    290 
This  from  the  pallid  corse  was  quickly  torn, 
Once  by  a  line  of  former  chieftains  worn. 
Th'  exulting  boy  the  studded  girdle  wears, 
Messapus'  helm  his  head,  in  triumph,  bears ; 
Then  from  the  tents  their  cautious  steps  they  bend, 
To  seek  the  vale,  where  safer  paths  extend. 

Just  at  this  hour,  a  band  of  Latian  horse 
To  Turnus'  camp  pursue  their  destin'd  course : 
While  the  slow  foot  their  tardy  march  delay. 
The  knights,  impatient,  spur  along  the  way :  300 

Three  hundred  mail-clad  men,  by  Volscens  led, 
To  Turnus  with  their  master's  promise  sped : 
Now  they  approach  the  trench,  and  view  the  walls, 
When,  on  the  left,  a  light  reflection  falls ; 
The  plunder'd  helmet,  through  the  waning  night, 
Sheds  forth  a  silver  radiance,  glancing  bright ; 
"Volscens,  with  question  loud,  the  pair  alarms : — 


164  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

"  Stand,  Stragglers  !  stand  !  why  early  thus  in  arms  ? 
From  whence  ?  to  whom  ?  " — He  meets  with  no  reply ; 
Trusting  the  covert  of  the  night,  they  fly :  310 

The  thicket's  depth,  with  hurried  pace,  they  tread, 
While  round  the  wood  the  hostile  squadron  spread. 

With  brakes  entangled,  scarce  a  path  between, 
Dreary  and  dark  appears  the  sylvan  scene  : 
Euryalus  his  heavy  spoils  impede, 
The  boughs  and  winding  turns  his  steps  mislead ; 
But  Nisus  scours  along  the  forest's  maze. 
To  where  Latinus'  steeds  in  safety  graze. 
Then  backward  o'er  the  plain  his  eyes  extend, 
On  every  side  they  seek  his  absent  friend.  320 

"  O  God  !  my  boy,"  he  cries,  "  of  me  bereft,'- 
In  what  impending  perils  art  thou  left ! " 
Listening  he  runs — above  the  waving  trees, 
Tumultuous  voices  swell  the  passing  breeze ; 
The  war-cry  rises,  thundering  hoofs  around 
Wake  the  dark  echoes  of  the  trembling  ground. 
Again  he  turns — of  footsteps  hears  the  noise— 
The  sound  elates — the  sight  his  hope  destroys : 
The  hapless  boy  a  ruffian  train  surround,"- 
While  lengthening  shades  his  weary  way  confound ;  330 
Him,  with  loud  shouts,  the  furious  knights  pursue, 

i.  of  thee  bereft 

In  ivhcU  dire  perils  is  my  brother  left. — \MS,  Newstead.'\ 
ii.   Theti  his  lau'd  boy  the  ruffian  band  surround 

Entangled  in  the  tufted  Forest  ground. — \_MS.  Newstead.^ 


THE   EPISODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  1 65 

Struggling  in  vain,  a  captive  to  the  crew.'- 

What  can  his  friend  'gainst  thronging  numbers  dare  ? 

Ah !  must  he  rush,  his  comrade's  fate  to  share  ? 

What  force,  what  aid,  what  stratagem  essay, 

Back  to  redeem  the  Latian  spoiler's  prey  ? 

His  life  a  votive  ransom  nobly  give, 

Or  die  with  him,  for  whom  he  wish'd  to  live  ? 

Poising  with  strength  his  lifted  lance  on  high, 

On  Luna's  orb  he  cast  his  frenzied  eye  : —  340 

"  Goddess  serene,  transcending  every  star  !  "• 

Queen  of  the  sky,  whose  beams  are  seen  afar ! 

By  night  Heaven  owns  thy  sway,  by  day  the  grove, 

When,  as  chaste  Dian,  here  thou  deign'st  to  rove ; 

If  e'er  myself,  or  Sire,  have  sought  to  grace 

Thine  altars,  with  the  produce  of  the  chase. 

Speed,  speed  my  dart  to  pierce  yon  vaunting  crowd, 

To  free  my  friend,  and  scatter  far  the  proud." 

Thus  having  said,  the  hissing  dart  he  flung ; 

Through  parted  shades  the  hurtling  weapon  sung;  350 

The  thirsty  point  in  Sulmo's  entrails  lay, 

Transfix'd  his  heart,  and  stretch'd  him  on  the  clay : 

He  sobs,  he  dies, — the  troop  in  wild  amaze, 

Unconscious  whence  the  death,  with  horror  gaze ; 

While  pale  they  stare,  thro'  Tagus'  temples  riven, 

A  second  shaft,  with  equal  force  is  driven : 

Fierce  Volscens  rolls  around  his  lowering  eyes ; 

i.  At  length  a  captive  to  the  hostile  crew. — {MS.  Nezvstead.^ 

ii.   The  Goddess  bright  transcending  a/ery  star. — [MS.  N'e^vstead.] 


1 66  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Veil'd  by  the  night,  secure  the  Trojan  lies.** 
Burning  with  wrath,  he  view'd  his  soldiers  fall. 
"  Thou  youth  accurst,  thy  life  shall  pay  for  all ! "      360 
Quick  from  the  sheath  his  flaming  glaive  he  drew, 
And,  raging,  on  the  boy  defenceless  flew. 
Nisus,  no  more  the  blackening  shade  conceals. 
Forth,  forth  he  starts,  and  all  his  love  reveals ; 
Aghast,  confus'd,  his  fears  to  madness  rise. 
And  pour  these  accents,  shrieking  as  he  flies ; 
"  Me,  me, — your  vengeance  hurl  on  me  alone ; 
Here  sheathe  the  steel,  my  blood  is  all  your  own ; 
Ye  starry  Spheres  !  thou  conscious  Heaven  !  attest ! 
He  could  not — durst  not — lo  !  the  guile  confest !     370 
All,  all  was  mine, — his  early  fate  suspend ; 

i.  No  object  meets  them  but  the  earth  and  skies. 
He  burns  for  vengea^ice,  risifig  in  his  wrath — 
Then  you^  accursed^  thy  life  shall  pay  for  both  ; 
Thetifrom  the  sheath  hisfla?ning  brand  he  dreWf 
And  on  the  raging  boy  defenceless  few. 
Nisus  no  more  the  blackening  shade  conceals^ 
Forth  forth  he  rushed  and  all  his  love  reveals  j 
Pale  and  confused  his  fear  to  madness  growsj 
And  thus  in  accents  mild  he  greets  his  Foes. 
"  On  me,  on  me,  direct  your  impious  steel. 
Let  me  and  7)ie  alofie  your  vengeance  feel — 
Let  not  a  stripliti^s  blood  by  Chiefs  be  spilt. 
Be  mine  the  Death,  as  mine  was  all  the  guilt. 
By  Heaven  and  Hell,  the  powers  of  Earth  and  Air. 
Yon  guiltless  striplifig  neither  could  nor  dare : 
Spare  him,  oh  !  spare  by  all  the  Gods  above, 
A  hapless  boy  whose  only  crime  was  Love.^^ 
He  prayed  in  vain  ;  the  fierce  assassin'' s  sword 
Pierced  the  fair  side,  the  snowy  bosom  gored ; 
Drooping  to  earth  inclines  his  lovely  head, 
O'er  his  fair  curls,  the  purpling  stream  is  spread. 
As  some  sweet  lily,  by  the  ploughshare  broke 
Languid  in  Death,  sijiks  dow?i  beneath  the  stroke } 
Or,  as  some  poppy,  bending  with  the  shoiver. 
Gently  declining  falls  a  waning  flower. — \_MS.  Netvstead.] 


THE    EPISODE    OF    NISUS    AND    EURYALUS.  1 67 

He  only  lov'd,  too  well,  his  hapless  friend : 

Spare,  spare,  ye  Chiefs  !  from  him  your  rage  remove ; 

His  fault  was  friendship,  all  his  crime  was  love." 

He  pray'd  in  vain ;  the  dark  assassin's  sword 

Pierced  the  fair  side,  the  snowy  bosom  gor'd ; 

Lowly  to  earth  inclines  his  plume-clad  crest, 

And  sanguine  torrents  mantle  o'er  his  breast : 

As  some  young  rose  whose  blossom  scents  the  air, 

Languid  in  death,  expires  beneath  the  share ;  380 

Or  crimson  poppy,  sinking  with  the  shower, 

Declining  gently,  falls  a  fading  flower ; 

Thus,  sweetly  drooping,  bends  his  lovely  head, 

And  lingering  Beauty  hovers  round  the  dead. 

But  fiery  Nisus  stems  the  battle's  tide, 
Revenge  his  leader,  and  Despair  his  guide ;  '• 
Volscens  he  seeks  amidst  the  gathering  host, 
Volscens  must  soon  appease  his  comrade's  ghost ; 
Steel,  flashing,  pours  on  steel,  foe  crowds  on  foe ; 
Rage  nerves  his  arm,  Fate  gleams  in  every  blow;    390 
In  vain  beneath  unnumber'd  wounds  he  bleeds. 
Nor  wounds,  nor  death,  distracted  Nisus  heeds ; 
In  viewless  circles  wheel'd  his  falchion  flies. 
Nor  quits  the  hero's  grasp  till  Volscens  dies ; 
Deep  in  his  throat  its  end  the  weapon  found. 
The  tyrant's  soul  fled  groaning  through  the  wound. 

i.  Revenge  his  object. — \_MS.  Newstead.^ 
ii.    The  assassin'' s  soul. — \MS.  Newstead.\ 


1 68  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Thus  Nisus  all  his  fond  affection  prov'd — 

Dying,  revenged  the  fate  of  him  he  lov'd ; 

Then  on  his  bosom  sought  his  wonted  place  '• 

And  death  was  heavenly,  in  his  friend's  embrace  !    400 

Celestial  pair  !  if  aught  my  verse  can  claim, 
Wafted  on  Time's  broad  pinion,  yours  is  fame !  "• 
Ages  on  ages  shall  your  fate  admire, 
No  future  day  shall  see  your  names  expire, 
While  stands  the  Capitol,  immortal  dome ! 
And  vanquish'd  millions  hail  their  Empress,  Rome  ! 


TRANSLATION   FROM   THE   "MEDEA"   OF 
EURIPIDES  [LI.  627-660]. 

"Epures   vnep  /ley  &yayf   k.t.A.* 
I. 

When  fierce  conflicting  passions  urge 
The  breast,  where  love  is  wont  to  glow, 

What  mind  can  stem  the  stormy  surge 
Which  rolls  the  tide  of  human  woe  ? 


i.    TAen  on  his  breast  he  sought  his  wonted  place y 

And  Death  was  lovely  in  his  Friend's  embrace. — [MS.  Newstead.] 
ii.    Yours  are  the  fairest  ivreaths  ofetidless  Fame.— [MS.  Newstead.  ] 

I.  [The  Greek  heading  does  not  appear  in  Hours  of  Idle- 
ness or  Poe?ns  O.  a?id  T.^ 


TRANSLATION    FROM    THE  "  MEDEA  "  OF    EURIPIDES.       1 69 

The  hope  of  praise,  the  dread  of  shame, 
Can  rouse  the  tortur'd  breast  no  more ; 

The  wild  desire,  the  guilty  flame, 
Absorbs  each  wish  it  felt  before. 


But  if  affection  gently  thrills 

The  soul,  by  purer  dreams  possest, 
The  pleasing  balm  of  mortal  ills 

In  love  can  soothe  the  aching  breast : 
If  thus  thou  comest  in  disguise,'- 

Fair  Venus  !  from  thy  native  heaven, 
What  heart,  unfeeling,  would  despise 

The  sweetest  boon  the  Gods  have  given? 

3- 
But,  never  from  thy  golden  bow. 

May  I  beneath  the  shaft  expire  ! 
Whose  creeping  venom,  sure  and  slow, 

Awakes  an  all-consuming  fire  : 
Ye  racking  doubts  !  ye  jealous  fears ! 

With  others  wage  internal  war ; 
Repentance  !  source  of  future  tears, 

From  me  be  ever  distant  far  ! 

4. 

May  no  distracting  thoughts  destroy 
The  holy  calm  of  sacred  love  ! 
i.   If  thus  thou  com'' St  in  gentle  guise,— \HoHrs  0/  Idleness.'] 


170  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 

May  all  the  hours  be  winged  with  joy, 
Which  hover  faithful  hearts  above  ! 

Fair  Venus  !  on  thy  myrtle  shrine 
May  I  with  some  fond  lover  sigh ! 

Whose  heart  may  mingle  pure  with  mine, 
With  me  to  live,  with  me  to  die ! 

5. 
My  native  soil !  belov'd  before, 

Now  dearer,  as  my  peaceful  home, 
Ne'er  may  I  quit  thy  rocky  shore, 

A  hapless  banish'd  wretch  to  roam  ! 
This  very  day,  this  very  hour, 

May  I  resign  this  fleeting  breath ! 
Nor  quit  my  silent  humble  bower ; 

A  doom,  to  me,  far  worse  than  death. 

6. 

Have  I  not  heard  the  exile's  sigh, 

And  seen  the  exile's  silent  tear. 
Through  distant  climes  condemn'd  to  fly, 

A  pensive,  weary  wanderer  here  ? 
Ah  !  hapless  dame  !  ^  no  sire  bewails, 

No  friend  thy  wretched  fate  deplores, 
No  kindred  voice  with  rapture  hails 

Thy  steps  within  a  stranger's  doors. 

I.  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. 


LACHIN    Y    GAIR.  171 

Perish  the  fiend  !  whose  iron  heart 

To  fair  affection's  truth  unknown, 
Bids  her  he  fondly  lov'd  depart, 

Unpitied,  helpless,  and  alone ; 
Who  ne'er  unlocks  with  silver  key,^ 

The  milder  treasures  of  his  soul ; 
May  such  a  friend  be  far  from  me, 

And  Ocean's  storms  between  us  roll ! 


LACHIN  Y  GAIR.2 

1. 

Away,  ye  gay  landscapes,  ye  gardens  of  roses ! 

In  you  let  the  minions  of  luxury  rove  ; 
Restore  me  the  rocks,  where  the  snow-flake  reposes, 

Though  still  they  are  sacred  to  freedom  and  love : 
Yet,  Caledonia,  belov'd  are  thy  mountains, 

Round  their  white  summits  though  elements  war ; 

1.  The  original  is  KaOapau  avoi^avra  KA.p5a  (ppevwi/y  literally 
"  disclosing  the  bright  key  of  the  mind." 

2.  Lachin  y  Gair,  or,  as  it  is  pronounced  in  the  Erse, 
Loch  na  Garr,  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 
subHme  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  Hours  of 
Idleness  and  Poems  0.  and  7".] 


172  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Though  cataracts  foam  'stead  of  smooth-flowing  fountains, 
I  sigh  for  the  valley  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 


Ah  !  there  my  young  footsteps  in  infancy,  wander'd : 

My  cap  was  the  bonnet,  my  cloak  was  the  plaid ;  ^ 
On  chieftains,  long  perish'd,  my  memory  ponder'd, 

As  daily  I  strode  through  the  pine-cover'd  glade ; 
I  sought  not  my  home,  till  the  day's  dying  glory 

Gave  place  to  the  rays  of  the  bright  polar  star ; 
For  fancy  was  cheer'd,  by  traditional  story, 

Disclos'd  by  the  natives  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 

3- 

"  Shades  of  the  dead  !  have  I  not  heard  your  voices 

Rise  on  the  night-rolling  breath  of  the  gale  ?  " 
Surely,  the  soul  of  the  hero  rejoices. 

And  rides  on  the  wind,  o'er  his  own  Highland  vale ! 
Round  Loch  na  Garr,  while  the  stormy  mist  gathers, 

Winter  presides  in  his  cold  icy  car : 
Clouds,  there,  encircle  the  forms  of  my  Fathers  ; 

They  dwell  in  the  tempests  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 

4. 
"  111  starr'd,''  though  brave,  did  no  visions  foreboding 
Tell  you  that  fate  had  forsaken  your  cause  ?  " 

1.  This  word  is  erroneously  pronounced //^^y  the  proper 
pronunciation  (according  to  the  Scotch)  is  shown  by  the 
orthography. 

2.  I  allude  here  to  my  maternal  ancestors,  " the  Gordons^^ 


LACHIN    Y    GAIR.  173 

Ah  !  were  you  destined  to  die  at  Culloden,^ 
Victory  crown'd  not  your  fall  with  applause  : 

Still  were  you  happy,  in  death's  earthy  slumber, 
You  rest  with  your  clan,  in  the  caves  of  Braemar ; ' 

The  Pibroch '  resounds,  to  the  piper's  loud  number, 
Your  deeds,  on  the  echoes  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr. 

5. 
Years  have  roll'd  on,  Loch  na  Garr,  since  I  left  you, 

Years  must  elapse,  ere  I  tread  you  again : 
Nature  of  verdure  and  flowers  has  bereft  you, 

Yet  still  are  you  dearer  than  Albion's  plain : 
England  !  thy  beauties  are  tame  and  domestic, 

To  one  who  has  rov'd  on  the  mountains  afar : 
Oh  !  for  the  crags  that  are  wild  and  majestic, 

The  steep,  frowning  glories  of  dark  Loch  na  Garr.* 

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. 

1.  Whether  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,  ^^ pars  pro  totoP 

2.  A  tract  of  the  Highlands  so  called.  There  is  also  a 
Castle  of  Braemar. 

3.  [The  Bagpipe. — Hours  of  Idleness.     (See  note,  p.  133.)] 

4.  [The  love  of  mountains  to  the  last  made  Byron 

"  Hail  in  each  crag  a  friend's  familiar  face, 
And  Loch  na  Garr  with  Ida  looked  o'er  Troy." 

The  Island  (1823),  Canto  II,  stanza  xii.j 


174  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


TO  ROMANCE. 


Parent  of  golden  dreams,  Romance ! 

Auspicious  Queen  of  childish  joys, 
Who  lead'st  along,  in  airy  dance, 

Thy  votive  train  of  girls  and  boys ; 
At  length,  in  spells  no  longer  bound, 

I  break  the  fetters  of  my  youth ; 
No  more  I  tread  thy  mystic  round, 

But  leave  thy  realms  for  those  of  Truth. 


And  yet  'tis  hard  to  quit  the  dreams 

Which  haunt  the  unsuspicious  soul. 
Where  every  nymph  a  goddess  seems,'- 

Whose  eyes  through  rays  immortal  roll ; 
While  Fancy  holds  her  boundless  reign. 

And  all  assume  a  varied  hue ; 
When  Virgins  seem  no  longer  vain, 

And  even  Woman's  smiles  are  true. 

3- 

And  must  we  own  thee,  but  a  name, 
And  from  thy  hall  of  clouds  descend  ? 

i.    Where  eruery  girl .—\_MS.  Newstead.\ 


TO    ROMANCE.  1 75 

Nor  find  a  Sylph  in  every  dame, 

A  Pylades  ^  in  every  friend  ? 
But  leave,  at  once,  thy  realms  of  air  '• 

To  mingling  bands  of  fairy  elves ; 
Confess  that  woman's  false  as  fair, 

And  friends  have  feeling  for — themselves  ? 

4- 

With  shame,  I  own,  I've  felt  thy  sway ; 

Repentant,  now  thy  reign  is  o'er ; 
No  more  thy  precepts  I  obey. 

No  more  on  fancied  pinions  soar ; 
Fond  fool !  to  love  a  sparkling  eye, 

And  think  that  eye  to  truth  was  dear ; 
To  trust  a  passing  wanton's  sigh, 

And  melt  beneath  a  wanton's  tear ! 


Romance  !  disgusted  with  deceit. 

Far  from  thy  motley  court  I  fly. 
Where  Affectation  holds  her  seat. 

And  sickly  Sensibility ; 

i.  But  quit  at  once  thy  realms  of  air 

Thy  mingling . — \^MS.  Nr<.v stead. '\ 

I.  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. 


176  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Whose  silly  tears  can  never  flow 
For  any  pangs  excepting  thine ; 

Who  turns  aside  from  real  woe, 
To  steep  in  dew  thy  gaudy  shrine. 

6. 

Now  join  with  sable  Sympathy, 

With  cypress  crown'd,  array'd  in  weeds, 
Who  heaves  with  thee  her  simple  sigh, 

Whose  breast  for  every  bosom  bleeds ; 
And  call  thy  sylvan  female  choir, 

To  mourn  a  Swain  for  ever  gone. 
Who  once  could  glow  with  equal  fire, 

But  bends  not  now  before  thy  throne. 

7. 
Ye  genial  Nymphs,  whose  ready  tears  '■ 

On  all  occasions  swiftly  flow ; 
W^ose  bosoms  heave  with  fancied  fears, 

With  fancied  flames  and  phrenzy  glow 
Say,  will  you  mourn  my  absent  name. 

Apostate  from  your  gentle  train  ? 
An  infant  Bard,  at  least,  may  claim 

From  you  a  sympathetic  strain. 

8. 

Adieu,  fond  race  !  a  long  adieu  ! 
The  hour  of  fate  is  hovering  nigh ; 

i.  AMspidoiis  bards . — {MS.  Newstead.^ 


THE  DEATH  OF  CALMAR  AND  ORLA.       1 77 

E'en  now  the  gulf  appears  in  view, 

Where  unlamented  you  must  He  :  '* 
ObUvion's  blackening  lake  is  seen, 

Convuls'd  by  gales  you  cannot  weather, 
Where  you,  and  eke  your  gentle  queen, 

Alas  !  must  perish  altogether. 


THE   DEATH   OF   CALMAR   AND   ORLA.^ 

AN    IMITATION    OF    MACPHERSON'S    "  OSSIAN."  ^ 

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. 

i.    Where  you  are  doomed  in  death  to  lie.— {MS.  Ne^vstead.\ 

1.  [The  MS.  is  preserved  at  Newstead.] 

2.  It  may  be  necessary  to  observe,  that  the  stor}^,  though 
considerably  varied  in  the  catastrophe,  is  taken  from  "  Nisus 
and  Euryalus,"  of  which  episode  a  translation  is  already 
given  in  the  present  volume  [see  pp.  151-168]. 

VOL.  I.  N 


lyS  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

In  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 ;  '•  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. 

From  Lochlin,  Swaran  bounded  o'er  the  blue  waves. 
Erin's  sons  fell  beneath  his  might.  Fingal  roused  his 
chiefs  to  combat."-  Their  ships  cover  the  ocean  !  Their 
hosts  throng  on  the  green  hills.  They  come  to  the  aid 
of  Erin. 

Night  rose  in  clouds.  Darkness  veils  the  armies.  But 
the  blazing  oaks  gleam  through  the  valley.'"'  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 

i.  ErMs  sons . — [AIS.  Newstead.} 

ii.   The  horn  of  Fingal . — [MS.  Newstead.'] 

iii.  the  fires  gleam .—\MS.  Newstead.\ 


THE  DEATH  OF  CALMAR  AND  ORLA.      1 79 

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?" 
"  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." — "  And  shalt  thou  fall  alone  ?  " 
said  fair-haired  Calmar.  "  W^ilt  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 ;  oufs  be  the  path  of  danger  :  ours  has  been  the 
cave  of  Oithona ;  ours  be  the  narrow  dwelling  on  the 
banks  of  Lubar." — "  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 


l8o  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

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." 
*'  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." 

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.  "  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?" 
"  It  is  a  time  for  vengeance,"  said  Orla  of  the  gloomy 
brow.      "  Mathon   of    Lochlin    sleeps :    seest   thou   his 


THE  DEATH  OF  CALMAR  AND  ORLA.      l8l 

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."  Mathon  starts  from  sleep  :  but 
did  he  rise  alone  ?  No  :  the  gathering  Chiefs  bound  on 
the  plain.  "  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."  Orla 
turns.  The  helm  of  Mathon  is  cleft;  his  shield  falls 
from  his  arm :  he  shudders  in  his  blood.''  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. 

i.  He  trembles  in  his  blood.    lie  rolls  cont'ulsive.~[AfS.  Neu<stead.'\ 


l82  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

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. 

Whose  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."  '• 

"  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  ! " 

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. 
i.  the  mountain  of  Morven. — \_MS.  NeiV5tcad.\ 


THE  DEATH  OF  CALMAR  AND  ORLA.       1 83 

The   winds    gave   our    barks    to    Morven : — the    bards 
raised  the  song. 

"What  Form  rises  on  the  roar  of  clouds?  ^Vhose 
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. ^ 

I.  I  fear  Laing's  late  edition  has  completely  overthrown 
every  hope  that  Macpherson's  Ossian  might  prove  the  trans- 
lation 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.  [Malcolm  Laing 
(1762-18 1 8)  published,  in  1802,  a  History  of  Scotland,  etc., 
with  a  dissertation  "  on  the  supposed  authenticity  of  Ossian's 
Poems,"  and,  in  1805,  a  work  entitled  The  Poe?ns  of  Ossia7i, 
etc.,  containing  the  Poetical  Works  of  James  Macphersojt, 
Esq.^  in  Prose  and  Rhyme,  with  Notes  and  Illustratiofis.'] 


184  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


TO    EDWARD    NOEL    LONG,    ESQ.'- » 

"Nil  ego  contulerim  jucundo  sanus  amico." — Horace. 

Dear  Long,  in  this  sequester'd  scene,'"- 

While  all  around  in  slumber  lie, 
The  joyous  days,  which  ours  have  been 

Come  rolling  fresh  on  Fancy's  eye ; 
Thus,  if,  amidst  the  gathering  storm, 
While  clouds  the  darken'd  noon  deform, 
Yon  heaven  assumes  a  varied  glow, 
I  hail  the  sky's  celestial  bow, 
Which  spreads  the  sign  of  future  peace, 
And  bids  the  war  of  tempests  cease. 
Ah  !  though  the  present  brings  but  pain, 
I  think  those  days  may  come  again ; 

i.    To  E.  N.  L.  Esq.— [Hours  of  Idleness.     Poems  0.  and  T.] 
ii.  Dear  L . — [Hours  of  Idleness.     Poems  0.  and  T.] 

I.  [The  MS.  of  these  verses  is  at  NeAvstead.  Long  was 
with  Byron  at  Harrow,  and  was  the  only  one  of  his  inti- 
mate 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.  "  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." — Diary,  1821  ;  Life,^.  32.  See  also  memorandum 
{Life,  p.  31,  col.  ii.).] 


TO    EDWARD    NOEL    LONG,    ESQ.  1 85 

Or  if,  in  melancholy  mood, 

Some  lurking  envious  fear  intrude,'- 

To  check  my  bosom's  fondest  thought, 

And  interrupt  the  golden  dream, 
I  crush  the  fiend  with  malice  fraught. 

And,  still,  indulge  my  wonted  theme. 
Although  we  ne'er  again  can  trace. 

In  Granta's  vale,  the  pedant's  lore. 
Nor  through  the  groves  of  Ida  chase 

Our  raptured  visions,  as  before ; 
Though  Youth  has  flown  on  rosy  pinion, 
And  Manhood  claims  his  stern  dominion. 
Age  will  not  every  hope  destroy. 
But  yield  some  hours  of  sober  joy. 

Yes,  I  will  hope  that  Time's  broad  wing 
Will  shed  around  some  dews  of  spring : 
But,  if  his  scythe  must  sweep  the  flowers 
Which  bloom  among  the  fairy  bowers. 
Where  smiling  Youth  delights  to  dwell, 
And  hearts  with  early  rapture  swell ; 
If  frowning  Age,  with  cold  controul, 
Confines  the  current  of  the  soul. 
Congeals  the  tear  of  Pity's  eye, 
Or  checks  the  sympathetic  sigh. 
Or  hears,  unmov'd.  Misfortune's  groan, 
And  bids  me  feel  for  self  alone ; 
i.  Some  daring  envious. — {MS.  N^eivstead.'\ 


l86  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Oh  !  may  my  bosom  never  learn 

To  soothe  its  wonted  heedless  flow ;  *• 
Still,  still,  despise  the  censor  stern, 

But  ne'er  forget  another's  woe. 
Yes,  as  you  knew  me  in  the  days, 
O'er  which  Remembrance  yet  delays/'- 
Still  may  I  rove  untutor'd,  wild, 
And  even  in  age,  at  heart  a  child."** 


Though,  now,  on  airy  visions  borne, 

To  you  my  soul  is  still  the  same. 
Oft  has  it  been  my  fate  to  mourn,'"'- 

And  all  my  former  joys  are  tame : 
But,  hence  !  ye  hours  of  sable  hue  ! 

Your  frowns  are  gone,  my  sorrows  o'er : 
By  every  bliss  my  childhood  knew, 

I'll  think  upon  your  shade  no  more. 
Thus,  when  the  whirlwind's  rage  is  past, 

And  caves  their  sullen  roar  enclose,''- 
We  heed  no  more  the  wintry  blast, 

When  lull'd  by  zephyr  to  repose. 


i.  its  young  romantic  flow. ~\MS.  Neivstead.\ 

ii.   O'er  which  my  fancy .—\MS.  Nezustead.] 

iii.  Still  may  my  breast  to  boyhood  cleave^ 

With  every  early  passion  heave  ; 

Still  may  I  rove  untutored,  wild. 

But  never  cease  to  seem  a  child.— [MS.  NrMstead.\ 
iv.  Since  we  have  met,  I  learnt  to  mourn. — [MS.  Nezvstead.] 
V.  And  caves  their  sullen  war .—[MS.  Newstead.'\ 


TO   EDWARD   NOEL    LONG,    ESQ.  1 87 

Full  often  has  my  infant  Muse, 

Attun'd  to  love  her  languid  lyre ; 
But,  now,  without  a  theme  to  choose. 
The  strains  in  stolen  sighs  expire. 
My  youthful  nymphs,  alas  !  are  flown  ;  •• 

E is  a  wife,  and  C a  mother, 

And  Carolina  sighs  alone. 

And  Mary's  given  to  another ; 
And  Cora's  eye,  which  roll'd  on  me, 

Can  now  no  more  my  love  recall- 
In  tmth,  dear  Long,  'twas  time  to  flee— "• 

For  Cora's  eye  will  shine  on  all. 
And  though  the  Sun,  with  genial  rays, 
His  beams  alike  to  all  displays, 
And  every  lady's  eye's  a  sun. 
These  last  should  be  confin'd  to  one. 
The  soul's  meridian  don't  become  her,"*- 
Whose  Sun  displays  a  general  summer! 
Thus  faint  is  every  former  flame. 
And  Passion's  self  is  now  a  name ;  '"•  "' 
As,  when  the  ebbing  flames  are  low, 

The  aid  which  once  improv'd  their  light, 
And  bade  them  burn  with  fiercer  glow. 
Now  quenches  all  their  sparks  in  night ; 

i    i/iank  Heaven  are  floivn.—\MS.  Ne^vsiead.^ 

ii.  In  truth  dear  L .—{Hours  of  Idleness.    Poems  0 .  and  T. 

iii.    The  glances  really  don't  become  her.— [MS.  Nnvstead.] 
iv.  No  more  I  linger  on  its  name.— {MS.  Ne7vstead.\ 
V.  And  passion's  self  is  but  a  name.— {MS.  Newstead.] 


l88  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Thus  has  it  been  with  Passion's  fires, 
As  many  a  boy  and  girl  remembers, 

While  all  the  force  of  love  expires, 
Extinguish'd  with  the  dying  embers. 

But  now,  dear  Long,  'tis  midnight's  noon, 
And  clouds  obscure  the  watery  moon. 
Whose  beauties  I  shall  not  rehearse, 
Describ'd  in  every  stripling's  verse  ; 
For  why  should  I  the  path  go  o'er 
Which  every  bard  has  trod  before  ?  '• 
Yet  ere  yon  silver  lamp  of  night 

Has  thrice  perform'd  her  stated  round, 
Has  thrice  retrac'd  her  path  of  light, 

And  chas'd  away  the  gloom  profound, 
I  trust,  that  we,  my  gentle  Friend, 
Shall  see  her  rolling  orbit  wend. 
Above  the  dear-lov'd  peaceful  seat. 
Which  once  contain'd  our  youth's  retreat ; 
And,  then,  with  those  our  childhood  knew, 
We'll  mingle  in  the  festive  crew  ; 
While  many  a  tale  of  former  day 
Shall  wing  the  laughing  hours  away ; 
And  all  the  flow  of  souls  shall  pour 
The  sacred  intellectual  shower. 
Nor  cease,  till  Luna's  waning  horn, 
Scarce  gUmmers  through  the  mist  of  Morn. 

i.  And  whafs  muck  worse  than  this  I  find 
Have  left  their  deepen'' d  tracks  behind 
Yet  as  yon .—{MS.  Newstead.'X 


TO   A   LADY.  189 


TO   A  LADY. 


Oh  !  had  my  Fate  been  join'd  with  thine,^ 
As  once  this  pledge  appear'd  a  token, 

These  foUies  had  not,  then,  been  mine, 
For,  then,  my  peace  had  not  been  broken. 


To  thee,  these  early  faults  I  owe. 
To  thee,  the  wise  and  old  reproving : 

They  know  my  sins,  but  do  not  know 
'Twas  thine  to  break  the  bonds  of  loving. 

3- 

For  once  my  soul,  like  thine,  was  pure. 
And  all  its  rising  fires  could  smother; 

But,  now,  thy  vows  no  more  endure, 
Bestow'd  by  thee  upon  another.^ 

i.    To . — [Hours  of  Idletiess.     Poems  0,  and  T.] 

I.  [These  verses  were  addressed  to  Mrs.  Chaworth  Musters. 
Byron  wrote  in  1822,  "  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." — Medwin's  Co7iversations,  1824,  p.  81.] 


igO  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Perhaps,  his  peace  I  could  destroy, 
And  spoil  the  blisses  that  await  him ; 

Yet  let  my  Rival  smile  in  joy, 

For  thy  dear  sake,  I  cannot  hate  him. 

5. 

Ah  !  since  thy  angel  form  is  gone, 
My  heart  no  more  can  rest  with  any ; 

But  what  it  sought  in  thee  alone, 
Attempts,  alas  !  to  find  in  many, 

6. 

Then,  fare  thee  well,  deceitful  Maid ! 

'Twere  vain  and  fruitless  to  regret  thee ; 
Nor  Hope,  nor  Memory  yield  their  aid. 

But  Pride  may  teach  me  to  forget  thee. 

7- 

Yet  all  this  giddy  waste  of  years, 

This  tiresome  round  of  palHng  pleasures ; 

These  varied  loves,  these  matrons'  fears, 

These  thoughtless  strains  to  Passion's  measures- 

8. 

If  thou  wert  mine,  had  all  been  hush'd  : — 
This  cheek,  now  pale  from  early  riot, 

With  Passion's  hectic  ne'er  had  flush'd, 
But  bloom'd  in  calm  domestic  quiet. 


WHEN    I    ROVED    A   YOUNG    HIGHLANDER.  1 91 

9- 

Yes,  once  the  rural  Scene  was  sweet, 
For  Nature  seem'd  to  smile  before  thee ; 

And  once  my  Breast  abhorr'd  deceit, — 
For  then  it  beat  but  to  adore  thee. 

10. 

But,  now,  I  seek  for  other  joys — 

To  think,  would  drive  my  soul  to  madness ; 

In  thoughtless  throngs,  and  empty  noise, 
I  conquer  half  my  Bosom's  sadness. 

II. 

Yet,  even  in  these,  a  thought  will  steal, 

In  spite  of  every  vain  endeavour ; 
And  fiends  might  pity  what  I  feel — 

To  know  that  thou  art  lost  for  ever. 


WHEN   I   ROVED   A  YOUNG   HIGHLANDER.'- 

I. 

When  I  rov'd  a  young  Highlander  o'er  the  dark  heath. 
And  climb'd  thy  steep  summit,  oh  Morven  of  snow  !  ^ 

i.  Song.— [Poems  0.  and  T.]  ' 

I.  Morven,  a  lofty  mountain  in  Aberdeenshire.     "Gormal 
of  snow  "  is  an  expression  frequently  to  be  found  in  Ossian. 


192  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

To  gaze  on  the  torrent  that  thunder'd  beneath, 
Or  the  mist  of  the  tempest  that  gather'd  below ;  ^ 

Untutor'd  by  science,  a  stranger  to  fear. 

And  rude  as  the  rocks,  where  my  infancy  grew. 

No  feehng,  save  one,  to  my  bosom  was  dear ; 

Need  I  say,  my  sweet  Mary,^  'twas  centred  in  you  ? 


Yet  it  could  not  be  Love,  for  I  knew  not  the  name, — 
What  passion  can  dwell  in  the  heart  of  a  child  ? 

But,  still,  I  perceive  an  emotion  the  same 
As  I  felt,  when  a  boy,  on  the  crag-cover'd  wild : 

1.  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. 

2.  [Byron,  in  early  youth,  was  "  unco'  wastefu'"  of  Marys. 
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  (Life^  p.  9).  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."  A  third  Mary  (see  "  Lines  to  Mary,"  etc., 
p.  32)  flits  through  the  early  poems,  evanescent  but  un- 
spiritual.  Last  of  all,  there  was  Mary  Anne  Chaworth,  of 
Annesley  (see  "A  Fragment,"  etc.,  p.  210;  "The  Adieu," 
St.  6,  p.  239,  etc.),  whose  marriage,  in  1805,  "threw  him  out 
again — alone  on  a  wide,  wide  sea  "  {Life^  p.  85).] 


WHEN    I    ROVED    A    YOUNG    HIGHLANDER.  1 93 

One  image,  alone,  on  my  bosom  impress'd, 
I  lov'd  my  bleak  regions,  nor  panted  for  new ; 

And  few  were  my  wants,  for  my  wishes  were  bless'd. 
And  pure  were  my  thoughts,  for  my  soul  was  with  you. 

3- 

I  arose  with  the  dawn,  with  my  dog  as  my  guide. 

From  mountain  to  mountain  I  bounded  along  ; 
I  breasted  ^  the  billows  of  Dee's  -  rushing  tide. 

And  heard  at  a  distance  the  Highlander's  song : 
At  eve,  on  my  heath-cover'd  couch  of  repose, 

No  dreams,  save  of  Mary,  were  spread  to  my  view ; 
And  warm  to  the  skies  my  devotions  arose, 

For  the  first  of  my  prayers  was  a  blessing  on  you. 

4. 

I  left  my  bleak  home,  and  my  visions  are  gone; 

The  mountains  are  vanish'd,  my  youth  is  no  more ; 
As  the  last  of  my  race,  I  must  wither  alone, 

And  delight  but  in  days,  I  have  witness'd  before : 
Ah  !  splendour  has  rais'd,  but  embitter'd  my  lot ; 

More  dear  were  the  scenes  which  my  infancy  knew : 
Though  my  hopes   may  have   fail'd,  yet   they  are  not 
forgot, 

Though  cold  is  my  heart,  still  it  lingers  with  you. 

1.  "  Breasting  the  lofty  surge"  (Shakespeare). 

2.  The   Dec  is  a  beautiful  river,  which   rises  near   Mar 
Lodge,  and  falls  into  the  sea  at  New  Aberdeen. 

VOL.  I.  O 


194  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

5- 

When  I  see  some  dark  hill  point  its  crest  to  the  sky, 

I  think  of  the  rocks  that  o'ershadow  Colbleen ;  ^ 
When  I  see  the  soft  blue  of  a  love-speaking  eye, 

I  think  of  those  eyes  that  endear' d  the  rude  scene ; 
\Vhen,  haply,  some  light-waving  locks  I  behold, 

That  faintly  resemble  my  Mary's  in  hue, 
I  think  on  the  long  flowing  ringlets  of  gold, 

The  locks  that  were  sacred  to  beauty,  and  you. 

6. 

Yet  the  day  may  arrive,  when  the  mountains  once  more 

Shall  rise  to  my  sight,  in  their  mantles  of  snow ; 
But  while  these  soar  above  me,  unchang'd  as  before, 

Will  Mary  be  there  to  receive  me  ? — ah,  no  ! 
Adieu,  then,  ye  hills,  where  my  childhood  was  bred ! 

Thou  sweet  flowing  Dee,  to  thy  waters  adieu ! 
No  home  in  the  forest  shall  shelter  my  head, — 

Ah  !  Mary,  what  home  could  be  mine,  but  with  you  ? 


TO   THE   DUKE   OF   DORSET.'- ^ 

Dorset  !  whose  early  steps  with  mine  have  stray'd,"- 
Exploring  every  path  of  Ida's  glade ; 

i.   To  the  Duke  of  D .—^Poems  0.  and  T.] 

ii.  D — r — i . — [Poems  0.  and  T.] 

1.  Colbleen  is  a  mountain  near  the  verge  of  the  Highlands, 
not  far  from  the  ruins  of  Dee  Castle. 

2.  In  looking  over  my  papers  to  select  a  few  additional 
poems  for  this  second  edition,  I  found  the  above  lines,  which 


TO    THE    DUKE    OF    DORSET.  I95 

Whom,  Still,  affection  taught  me  to  defend, 

And  made  me  less  a  tyrant  than  a  friend, 

Though  the  harsh  custom  of  our  youthful  band 

Bade  thee  obey,  and  gave  7ne  to  command ;  ^ 

Thee,  on  whose  head  a  few  short  years  will  shower 

The  gift  of  riches,  and  the  pride  of  power ; 

E'en  now  a  name  illustrious  is  thine  own, 

Renown'd  in  rank,  not  far  beneath  the  throne.  lo 

Yet,  Dorset,  let  not  this  seduce  thy  soul  '• 

To  shun  fair  science,  or  evade  controul ; 

Though  passive  tutors,^  fearful  to  dispraise 

The  titled  child,  whose  future  breath  may  raise, 

View  ducal  errors  with  indulgent  eyes. 

And  wink  at  faults  they  tremble  to  chastise. 

i.    Yet  D—r—t .—\Poetns  0.  aftd  T.] 

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.  [The  foregoing  note  was  prefixed  to  the  poem  in 
Poems  O.  and  T.  George  John  Frederick,  4th  Duke  of 
Dorset,  born  1793,  was  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse  when 
hunting,  in  18 15,  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.)] 

1.  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. 

2.  Allow  me  to  disclaim  any  personal  allusions,  even  the 
most  distant.  I  merely  mention  generally  what  is  too  often 
the  weakness  of  preceptors. 


196  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

When  youthful  parasites,  who  bend  the  knee 
To  wealth,  then-  golden  idol,  not  to  thee, — 
And  even  in  simple  boyhood's  opening  dawn 
Some  slaves  are  found  to  flatter  and  to  fawn, —  20 

When  these  declare,  "  that  pomp  alone  should  wait 
On  one  by  birth  predestin'd  to  be  gi-eat ; 
That  books  were  only  meant  for  drudging  fools, 
That  gallant  spirits  scorn  the  common  rules ;  " 
Believe  them  not, — they  point  the  path  to  shame, 
And  seek  to  blast  the  honours  of  thy  name : 
Turn  to  the  few  in  Ida's  early  throng, 
Whose  souls  disdain  not  to  condemn  the  wrong ; 
Or  if,  amidst  the  comrades  of  thy  youth, 
None  dare  to  raise  the  sterner  voice  of  truth,  30 

Ask  thine  own  heart — 'twill  bid  thee,  boy,  forbear ! 
For  well  I  know  that  virtue  lingers  there. 

Yes  !  I  have  mark'd  thee  many  a  passing  day, 
But  now  new  scenes  invite  me  far  away ; 
Yes  !  I  have  mark'd  within  that  generous  mind 
A  soul,  if  well  matur'd,  to  bless  mankind ; 
Ah  !  though  myself,  by  nature  haughty,  wild. 
Whom  Indiscretion  hail'd  her  favourite  child ; 
Though  every  error  stamps  me  for  her  own, 
And  dooms  my  fall,  I  fain  would  fall  alone ;  40 

Though  my  proud  heart  no  precept,  now,  can  tame 
I  love  the  virtues  which  I  cannot  claim. 

'Tis  not  enough,  with  other  sons  of  power, 
To  gleam  the  lambent  meteor  of  an  hour ; 


TO   THE    DUKE    OF    DORSET.  1 97 

To  swell  some  peerage  page  in  feeble  pride, 

With  long-drawn  names  that  grace  no  page  beside ; 

Then  share  with  titled  crowds  the  common  lot — • 

In  life  just  gaz'd  at,  in  the  grave  forgot ; 

While  nought  divides  thee  from  the  vulgar  dead, 

Except  the  dull  cold  stone  that  hides  thy  head,  50 

The  mouldering  'scutcheon,  or  the  Herald's  roll, 

That  well-emblazon'd  but  neglected  scroll, 

Where  Lords,  unhonour'd,  in  the  tomb  may  find 

One  spot,  to  leave  a  worthless  name  behind. 

There  sleep,  unnotic'd  as  the  gloomy  vaults 

That  veil  their  dust,  their  follies,  and  their  faults, 

A  race,  with  old  armorial  lists  o'erspread, 

In  records  destin'd  never  to  be  read. 

Fain  would  I  view  thee,  with  prophetic  eyes, 

Exalted  more  among  the  good  and  wise ;  60 

A  glorious  and  a  long  career  pursue. 

As  first  in  Rank,  the  first  in  Talent  too : 

Spurn  every  vice,  each  little  meanness  shun ; 

Not  Fortune's  minion,  but  her  noblest  son. 

Turn  to  the  annals  of  a  former  day ; 
Bright  are  the  deeds  thine  earlier  Sires  display ; 
One,  though  a  courtier,  lived  a  man  of  worth, 
And  call'd,  proud  boast !  the  British  drama  forth. ^ 

I.  ["Thomas  Sackville,  Lord  Buckhurst,  was  born  in  1527. 
While  a  student  of  the  Inner  Temple,  he  wrote  his  tragedy 
of  Gorboduc,  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 
Mirrour  for  Magistraytes^  compose  the  poetical  history  of 


198  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 

Another  view  !  not  less  renown'd  for  Wit ; 
Alike  for  courts,  and  camps,  or  senates  fit;  70 

Bold  in  the  field,  and  favour'd  by  the  Nine ; 
In  every  splendid  part  ordain' d  to  shine ; 
Far,  far  distinguish'd  from  the  glittering  throng, 
The  pride  of  Princes,  and  the  boast  of  Song.^ 
Such  were  thy  Fathers ;  thus  preserve  their  name, 
Not  heir  to  titles  only,  but  to  Fame. 
The  hour  draws  nigh,  a  few  brief  days  will  close, 
To  me,  this  little  scene  of  joys  and  woes; 
Each  knell  of  Time  now  warns  me  to  resign 
Shades  where  Hope,  Peace,  and  Friendship  all  were 
mine :  80 

Hope,  that  could  vary  like  the  rainbow's  hue, 
And  gild  their  pinions,  as  the  moments  flew ; 
Peace,  that  reflection  never  frown'd  away, 
By  dreams  of  ill  to  cloud  some  future  day ; 
Friendship,  whose  truth  let  Childhood  only  tell ; 
Alas  !  they  love  not  long,  who  love  so  well. 

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." 
— Speci?ne?ts  0/  the  British  Poets,  by  Thomas  Campbell, 
London,  18 19,  ii.  134,  sg.'\ 

I.  Charles  Sackville,  Earl  of  Dorset  [i 637-1 706],  esteemed 
the  most  accomplished  man  of  his  day,  was  alike  distinguished 
in  the  voluptuous  court  of  Charles  II.  and  the  gloomy  one 
of  William  III.  He  behaved  with  great  gallantry  in  the 
sea-fight  with  the  Dutch  in  1665  ;  on  the  day  previous  to 
which  he  composed  his  celebrated  song  ["  To  all  you  Ladies 
now  at  Land''^\  His  character  has  been  drawn  in  the 
highest  colours  by  Dryden,  Pope,  Prior,  and  Congreve.  Vide 
Anderson's  British  Poets,  1793,  vi.  107,  108. 


TO    THE    DUKE    OF    DORSET.  I99 

To  these  adieu  !  nor  let  me  linger  o'er 
Scenes  hail'd,  as  exiles  hail  their  native  shore, 
Receding  slowly,  through  the  dark-blue  deep, 
Beheld  by  eyes  that  mourn,  yet  cannot  weep.  90 

Dorset,  farewell !  I  will  not  ask  one  part  ^ 
Of  sad  remembrance  in  so  young  a  heart ; 
The  coming  morrow  from  thy  youthful  mind 
Will  sweep  my  name,  nor  leave  a  trace  behind. 
And,  yet,  perhaps,  in  some  maturer  year, 
Since  chance  has  thrown  us  in  the  self-same  sphere, 
Since  the  same  senate,  nay,  the  same  debate, 
May  one  day  claim  our  suffrage  for  the  state, 
We  hence  may  meet,  and  pass  each  other  by 
With  faint  regard,  or  cold  and  distant  eye.  100 

For  me,  in  future,  neither  friend  nor  foe, 
A  stranger  to  thyself,  thy  weal  or  woe — 
With  thee  no  more  again  I  hope  to  trace 
The  recollection  of  our  early  race  ; 
No  more,  as  once,  in  social  hours  rejoice, 
Or  hear,  unless  in  crowds,  thy  well-known  voice  ; 
Still,  if  the  wishes  of  a  heart  untaught 
To  veil  those  feelings,  which,  perchance,  it  ought, 
If  these, — but  let  me  cease  the  lengthen'd  strain, — 
Oh  !  if  these  wishes  are  not  breath'd  in  vain,  no 

The  Guardian  Seraph  who  directs  thy  fate 
Will  leave  thee  glorious,  as  he  found  thee  great. 

1S05. 
i.  D—r—tfarciven.—\Pocms  0.  and  T.] 


200  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


TO   THE   EARL   OF   CLARE.*- 

Tu  semper  amoris 
Sis  memor,  et  cari  comitis  ne  abscedat  imago. 

Val.  Flag.  Argonaut,  iv.  36. 

I. 

Friend  of  my  youth  !  when  young  we  rov'd, 
Like  stripUngs,  mutually  belov'd, 

With  Friendship's  purest  glow  ; 
The  bliss,  which  wing'd  those  rosy  hours, 
Was  such  as  Pleasure  seldom  showers 

On  mortals  here  below. 

2. 

The  recollection  seems,  alone, 
Dearer  than  all  the  joys  I've  known, 

When  distant  far  from  you  : 
Though  pain,  'tis  still  a  pleasing  pain, 
To  trace  those  days  and  hours  again, 

And  sigh  again,  adieu  ! 

3- 

My  pensive  mem'iy  lingers  o'er, 
Those  scenes  to  be  enjoy'd  no  more. 

Those  scenes  regretted  ever ; 
The  measure  of  our  youth  is  full. 
Life's  evening  dream  is  dark  and  dull, 

And  we  may  meet — ah  !  never  ! 

i.    To  the  Earl  oj .—[Poems  0.  and  T.] 


TO   THE    EARL    OF    CLARE.  20I 

4- 

As  when  one  parent  spring  supplies 

Two  streams,  which  from  one  fountain  rise. 

Together  join'd  in  vain ; 
How  soon,  diverging  from  their  source, 
Each,  murmuring,  seeks  another  course, 

Till  mingled  in  the  Main  ! 

5. 

Our  vital  streams  of  weal  or  woe, 
Though  near,  alas  !  distinctly  flow. 

Nor  mingle  as  before  : 
Now  swift  or  slow,  now  black  or  clear, 
Till  Death's  unfathom'd  gulph  appear, 

And  both  shall  quit  the  shore. 

6. 

Our  souls,  my  Friend  !  which  once  supplied 
One  wish,  nor  breathed  a  thought  beside, 

Now  flow  in  different  channels  : 
Disdaining  humbler  rural  sports, 
'Tis  yours  to  mix  in  polish'd  courts, 

And  shine  in  Fashion's  annals ; 

7. 

'Tis  mine  to  waste  on  love  my  time, 
Or  vent  my  reveries  in  rhyme, 
\Vithout  the  aid  of  Reason  ; 


202  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

For  Sense  and  Reason  (critics  know  it) 
Have  quitted  every  amorous  Poet, 
Nor  left  a  thought  to  seize  on. 

8. 

Poor  Little  !  sweet,  melodious  bard ! 
Of  late  esteem'd  it  monstrous  hard 

That  he,  who  sang  before  all ; 
He  who  the  lore  of  love  expanded, 
By  dire  Reviewers  should  be  branded, 

As  void  of  wit  and  moral.^ 

9- 

And  yet,  while  Beauty's  praise  is  thine, 
Harmonious  favourite  of  the  Nine  ! 

Repine  not  at  thy  lot. 
Thy  soothing  lays  may  still  be  read, 
When  Persecution's  arm  is  dead, 

And  critics  are  forgot. 

ID. 

Still  I  must  yield  those  worthies  merit 
Who  chasten,  with  unsparing  spirit, 

Bad  rhymes,  and  those  who  write  them 


I.  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 
Edinburgh  Review,  of  July,  1807,  on  ^^ Epistles,  Odes,  and 
other  Poems,  by  Thomas  Little,  Esq."] 


TO   THE    EARL   OF    CLARE.  203 

And  though  myself  may  be  the  next 
By  critic  sarcasm  to  be  vext, 
I  really  will  not  fight  them.^ 

II. 

Perhaps  they  would  do  quite  as  well 
To  break  the  rudely  sounding  shell 

Of  such  a  young  beginner  : 
He  who  offends  at  pert  nineteen, 
Ere  thirty  may  become,  I  ween, 

A  very  harden'd  sinner. 

12. 

Now,  Clare,  I  must  return  to  you ;  *• 
And,  sure,  apologies  are  due : 

Accept,  then,  my  concession. 
In  ti-uth,  dear  Clare,  in  Fancy's  flight  ^ 
I  soar  along  from  left  to  right ; 

My  Muse  admires  digression. 

13. 
I  think  I  said  'twould  be  your  fate 
To  add  one  star  to  royal  state ; — 
May  regal  smiles  attend  you  ! 

i.  Now I  nmst.—\Poems  0.  and  T.'\ 

ii.  In  truth  dear in  fancy's  flight.— \_Poems  0.  afid  T.] 

I.  A  bard  [Moore]  {Horresco  referens)  defied  his  reviewer 
[Jeffrey]  to  mortal  combat.  If  this  example  becomes  pre- 
valent, 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.  English  Bards,  1.  466,  note:\ 


204  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

And  should  a  noble  Monarch  reign, 
You  will  not  seek  his  smiles  in  vain, 
If  worth  can  recommend  you. 

14. 
Yet  since  in  danger  courts  abound, 
Where  specious  rivals  glitter  round, 

From  snares  may  Saints  preserve  you ; 
And  grant  your  love  or  friendship  ne'er 
From  any  claim  a  kindred  care, 

But  those  who  best  deserve  you  1 

15- 
Not  for  a  moment  may  you  stray 
From  Truth's  secure,  unerring  way  ! 

May  no  delights  decoy  ! 
O'er  roses  may  your  footsteps  move, 
Your  smiles  be  ever  smiles  of  love, 

Your  tears  be  tears  of  joy  ! 

16. 

Oh  !  if  you  wish  that  happiness 

Your  coming  days  and  years  may  bless, 

And  virtues  crown  your  brow ; 
Be  still  as  you  were  wont  to  be, 
Spotless  as  you've  been  known  to  me, — 

Be  still  as  you  are  now.^ 

I.  ["  Of  all  I  have  ever  knoAvn,  Clare  has  always  been  the 
least  altered  in  everything  from  the  excellent  qualities  and 
kind   affections  which  attached  me  to  him   so  strongly  at 


1    WOULD    I    WERE   A    CARELESS    CHILD.  205 

And  though  some  trifling  share  of  praise, 
To  cheer  my  last  decUning  days, 

To  me  were  doubly  dear ; 
Whilst  blessing  your  beloved  name, 
I'd  waive  at  once  a  Poet's  fame, 

To  J>rove  a  Prophet  here. 

1807. 


I  WOULD   I   WERE   A   CARELESS   CHILD.'- 
I. 

I  WOULD  I  were  a  careless  child, 

Still  dwelling  in  my  Highland  cave, 
Or  roaming  through  the  dusky  wild, 

Or  bounding  o'er  the  dark  blue  wave ; 
The  cumbrous  pomp  of  Saxon  ^  pride. 

Accords  not  with  the  freeborn  soul, 
"Which  loves  the  mountain's  craggy  side, 

And  seeks  the  rocks  where  billows  roll. 

i.  Stanzas. — [Poe/ns  0.  and  T.] 

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." — Detached  Thoughts^ 
Nov.  5,  io2i  ;  Lifc^  p.  540.] 

I.  Sassenach,  or  Sa:von,  a  Gaelic  word,  signifying  either 
Lowland  or  Eni'libh. 


3o6  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

Fortune  !  take  back  these  cultur'd  lands, 

Take  back  this  name  of  splendid  sound  1 
I  hate  the  touch  of  servile  hands, 

I  hate  the  slaves  that  cringe  around : 
Place  me  among  the  rocks  I  love, 

Which  sound  to  Ocean's  wildest  roar ; 
I  ask  but  this — again  to  rove 

Through  scenes  my  youth  hath  known  before. 

3- 

Few  are  my  years,  and  yet  I  feel 

The  World  was  ne'er  design'd  for  me  : 
Ah  !  why  do  dark'ning  shades  conceal 

The  hour  when  man  must  cease  to  be  ? 
Once  I  beheld  a  splendid  dream, 

A  visionary  scene  of  bliss  ; 
Truth  ! — wherefore  did  thy  hated  beam 

Awake  me  to  a  world  like  this  ? 

4- 
I  lov'd — but  those  I  lov'd  are  gone ; 

Had  friends — my  early  friends  are  fled  : 
How  cheerless  feels  the  heart  alone, 

When  all  its  former  hopes  are  dead  ! 
Though  gay  companions,  o'er  the  bowl 

Dispel  awhile  the  sense  of  ill ; 
Though  Pleasure  stirs  the  maddening  soul, 

The  heart — the  heart — is  lonely  still. 


I   WOULD    I   WERE   A   CARELESS   CHILD.  207 

5- 

How  dull  !  to  hear  the  voice  of  those 

Whom  Rank  or  Chance,  whom  Wealth  or  Power, 
Have  made,  though  neither  friends  nor  foes, 

Associates  of  the  festive  hour. 
Give  me  again  a  faithful  few, 

In  years  and  feelings  still  the  same, 
And  I  will  fly  the  midnight  crew, 

Where  boist'rous  Joy  is  but  a  name. 

6. 

And  Woman,  lovely  Woman  !  thou, 

My  hope,  my  comforter,  my  all ! 
How  cold  must  be  my  bosom  now, 

When  e'en  thy  smiles  begin  to  pall ! 
Without  a  sigh  would  I  resign. 

This  busy  scene  of  splendid  Woe, 
To  make  that  calm  contentment  mine, 

Which  Virtue  knows,  or  seems  to  know. 

7- 
Fain  would  I  fly  the  haunts  of  men  ^ — 
I  seek  to  shun,  not  hate  mankind ; 


I.  [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.] 


2o8  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS, 

My  breast  requires  the  sullen  glen, 
Whose  gloom  may  suit  a  darken'd  mind. 

Oh  !  that  to  me  the  wings  were  given, 
Which  bear  the  turtle  to  her  nest ! 

Then  would  I  cleave  the  vault  of  Heaven, 
To  flee  away,  and  be  at  rest.^ 


LINES  WRITTEN  BENEATH  AN   ELM  IN  THE 
CHURCHYARD   OF  HARROW^^ 

Spot  of  my  youth  !  whose  hoary  branches  sigh, 
Swept  by  the  breeze  that  fans  thy  cloudless  sky ; 
AVhere  now  alone  I  muse,  who  oft  have  trod. 
With  those  I  loved,  thy  soft  and  verdant  sod ; 

i.  Lina  written  beneath  an  Elm 

In  the 

Churchyard  of  Harroi I'  on  the  Hill 

'  September  2,  \?>o'] .—{Poems  0.  and  T.] 

1.  "And  I  said,  O  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove,  for 
then  would  I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest." — Psalm  Iv.  6.  This 
verse  also  constitutes  a  part  of  the  most  beautiful  anthem  in 
our  language. 

2.  [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 
c\mrchyard^  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  church.^''  No  tablet  was, 
however,  erected,  and  Allegra  sleeps  in  her  unmarked  grave 
inside  the  church,  a  few  feet  to  the  rigliL  of  the  entrance.J 


LINES    WRITTEN    BENEATH    AN    ELM.  209 

With  those  who,  scatter'd  far,  perchance  deplore, 

Like  me,  the  happy  scenes  they  knew  before : 

Oh !  as  I  trace  again  thy  winding  hill, 

Mine  eyes  admire,  my  heart  adores  thee  still, 

Thou  drooping  Elm  !  beneath  whose  boughs  I  lay, 

And  frequent  mus'd  the  twilight  hours  away ; 

Where,  as  they  once  were  wont,  my  limbs  recline, 

But,  ah  !  without  the  thoughts  which  then  were  mine  : 

How  do  thy  branches,  moaning  to  the  blast. 

Invite  the  bosom  to  recall  the  past. 

And  seem  to  whisper,  as  they  gently  swell, 

"  Take,  while  thou  canst,  a  lingering,  last  farewell ! " 


When  Fate  shall  chill,  at  length,  this  fever'd  breast, 
And  calm  its  cares  and  passions  into  rest, 
Oft  have  I  thought,  'twould  soothe  my  dying  hour, — 
If  aught  may  soothe,  when  Life  resigns  her  power, — 
To  know  some  humbler  grave,  some  narrow  cell, 
Would  hide  my  bosom  where  it  lov'd  to  dwell ; 
With  this  fond  dream,  methinks  'twere  sweet  to  die — 
And  here  it  linger'd,  here  my  heart  might  lie ; 
Here  might  I  sleep  where  all  my  hopes  arose, 
Scene  of  my  youth,  and  couch  of  my  repose  ; 
For  ever  stretch'd  beneath  this  mantling  shade, 
Press'd  by  the  turf  where  once  my  childhood  play'd ; 
Wrapt  by  the  soil  that  veils  the  spot  I  lov'd, 
Mix'd  with  the  earth  o'er  which  my  footsteps  mov'd ; 

VOL.  I.  p 


2IO  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Blest  by  the  tongues  that  charm'd  my  youthful  ear, 
Mourn'd  by  the  few  my  soul  acknowledged  here ; 
Deplor'd  by  those  in  early  days  allied, 
And  unremember'd  by  the  world  beside. 

September  2,  1807. 


^ 


\ 


FRAGMENT. 

written  shortly  after  the  marriage  of  miss 
chaworth/ 

I. 

Hills  of  Annesley,  Bleak  and  Barren, 
Where  my  thoughtless  Childhood  stray'd, 

How  the  northern  Tempests,  warring, 
Howl  above  thy  tufted  Shade  ! 

I.  [Miss  Chaworth  was  married  to  John  Musters,  Esq.,  in 
August,  1805.  The  stanzas  were  first  published  in  Moore's 
Letters  and  J 02ir7ials  of  Lord  Byron,  1830,  i.  56.  (See,  too, 
The  Dream,  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'  Farewell  to  Ayrshire — 

Scenes  of  woe  and  Scenes  of  pleasure 
Scenes  that  former  thoughts  renew 
Scenes  of  woe  and  scenes  of  pleasure 
Now  a  sad  and  last  adieu,  etc. 

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 


REMEMBRANCE.  211 


2. 


Now  no  more,  the  Hours  beguiling, 
Former  favourite  Haunts  I  see ; 

Now  no  more  my  Mary  smiling, 
Makes  ye  seem  a  Heaven  to  Me. 


1805, 


REMEMBRANCE. 

'Tis  done  ! — I  saw  it  in  my  dreams : 
No  more  with  Hope  the  future  beams ; 

My  days  of  happiness  are  few : 
Chiil'd  by  Misfortune's  wintry  blast, 
My  dawn  of  Life  is  overcast ; 

Love,  Hope,  and  Joy,  alike  adieu  ! 

Would  I  could  add  Remembrance  too  ! 

1806,     [First  published,  1832.] 

read  them  to  Moore,  and  at  his  particular  request  I  copied 
them  for  him."— E.  B.  Pigot,  1859. 

On  the  fly-leaf  of  the  same  volume  {Poetry  of  Robert 
Burns,\o\.  iv.  Third  Edition,  1802),  containing  the  Farewell 
to  Ayrshire^  Byron  wrote  in  pencil  the  two  stanzas  "  Oh  ! 
little  lock  of  golden  hue,"  in  1806  {vide  post,  p.  233). 

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.] 


212  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


TO   A   LADY 

WHO    PRESENTED    THE    AUTHOR   WITH    THE   VELVET    BAND 
WHICH    BOUND    HER   TRESSES. 

I. 

This  Band,  which  bound  thy  yellow  hair 
Is  mine,  sweet  girl !  thy  pledge  of  love ; 

It  claims  my  warmest,  dearest  care, 
Like  relics  left  of  saints  above. 

2. 

Oh  !  I  will  wear  it  next  my  heart ; 

'Twill  bind  my  soul  in  bonds  to  thee : 
From  me  again  'twill  ne'er  depart, 

But  mingle  in  the  grave  with  me. 

3- 
The  dew  I  gather  from  thy  lip 

Is  not  so  dear  to  me  as  this ; 
That  I  but  for  a  moment  sip. 

And  banquet  on  a  transient  bliss :  * 

4- 

This  will  recall  each  youthful  scene, 
E'en  when  our  lives  are  on  the  wane ; 

The  leaves  of  Love  will  still  be  green 
When  Memory  bids  them  bud  again. 

i8o6.     [First  published,  1832.] 
i.  on  a  transient  kiss.—-\_MS.  Newstead.\ 


TO   A    KNOT    OF   UNGENEROUS    CRITICS.  213 


TO  A    KNOT  OF  UNGENEROUS   CRITICS.^ 

Rail  on,  Rail  on,  ye  heartless  crew ! 
My  strains  were  never  meant  for  you ; 
Remorseless  Rancour  still  reveal, 
And  damn  the  verse  you  cannot  feel. 
Invoke  those  kindred  passions'  aid, 
Whose  baleful  stings  your  breasts  pervade ; 
Crush,  if  you  can,  the  hopes  of  youth, 
Trampling  regardless  on  the  Truth  : 
Truth's  Records  you  consult  in  vain. 
She  will  not  blast  her  native  strain ; 
She  will  assist  her  votary's  cause, 
His  will  at  least  be  her  applause, 
Your  prayer  the  gentle  Power  will  spurn ; 
To  Fiction's  motley  altar  turn. 
Who  joyful  in  the  fond  address 
Her  favoured  worshippers  will  bless  : 
And  lo  !  she  holds  a  magic  glass, 
Where  Images  reflected  pass, 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed. 

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  Poems,  "  That  unhicky  poem  to  my  poor  Mary 
has  been  the  cause  of  some  animadversion  from  ladies  in 
years.  I  have  not  printed  it  in  this  collection  in  consequence 
of  my  being  pronounced  a  most  profligate  sinner,  in  short 
a  ^ yonng  Moore,^  ^^—Lije,  p.  41.] 


214  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Bent  on  your  knees  the  Boon  receive — ■ 
This  will  assist  you  to  deceive — 
The  glittering  gift  was  made  for  you, 
Now  hold  it  up  to  public  view ; 
Lest  evil  unforeseen  betide, 
A  Mask  each  canker'd  brow  shall  hide, 
(Whilst  Truth  my  sole  desire  is  nigh, 
Prepared  the  danger  to  defy,) 
"  There  is  the  Maid's  perverted  name, 
"  And  there  the  Poet's  guilty  Flame, 
"  Gloaming  a  deep  phosphoric  fire, 
"  Threatening — but  ere  it  spreads,  retire." 
Says  Truth  "  Up  Virgins,  do  not  fear ! 
"  The  Comet  rolls  its  Influence  here ; 
"  'Tis  Scandal's  Mirror  you  perceive, 
"  These  dazzling  Meteors  but  deceive — 
"  Approach  and  touch — Nay  do  not  turn, 
*'  It  blazes  there,  but  will  not  burn." — 
At  once  the  shivering  Mirror  flies, 
Teeming  no  more  with  varnished  Lies; 
The  baflied  friends  of  Fiction  start, 
Too  late  desiring  to  depart — 
Truth  poising  high  Ithuriel's  spear 
Bids  every  Fiend  unmask'd  appear, 
The  vizard  tears  from  every  face. 
And  dooms  them  to  a  dire  disgrace. 
For  e'er  they  compass  their  escape. 
Each  takes  perforce  a  native  shape — 


TO    A    KNOT    OF    UNGENEROUS    CRITICS.  215 

The  Leader  of  the  wrathful  Band, 
Behold  a  portly  Female  stand  ! 
She  raves,  impelled  by  private  pique, 
This  mean  unjust  revenge  to  seek  ; 
From  vice  to  save  this  virtuous  Age, 
Thus  does  she  vent  indecent  rage  ! 
What  child  has  she  of  promise  fair, 
Who  claims  a  fostering  Mother's  care  ? 
Whose  Innocence  requires  defence, 
Or  forms  at  least  a  smooth  pretence, 
Thus  to  disturb  a  harmless  Boy, 
His  humble  hope,  and  peace  annoy  ? 
She  need  not  fear  the  amorous  rhyme. 
Love  will  not  tempt  her  future  time. 
For  her  his  wings  have  ceased  to  spread, 
No  more  he  flutters  round  her  head; 
Her  day's  Meridian  now  is  past. 
The  clouds  of  Age  her  Sun  o'ercast ; 
To  her  the  strain  was  never  sent. 
For  feeling  Souls  alone  'twas  meant — 
The  verse  she  seized,  unask'd,  unbade, 
And  damn'd,  ere  yet  the  whole  was  read ! 
Yes  !  for  one  single  erring  verse. 
Pronounced  an  unrelenting  Curse  ; 
Yes  !  at  a  first  and  transient  view, 
Condemned  a  heart  she  never  knew. — 
Can  such  a  verdict  then  decide. 
Which  springs  from  disappointed  pride  ? 


2l6  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Without  a  wondrous  share  of  Wit, 
To  judge  is  such  a  Matron  fit? 
The  rest  of  the  censorious  throng 
Who  to  this  zealous  Band  belong, 
To  her  a  general  homage  pay, 
And  right  or  wrong  her  wish  obey  : 
Why  should  I  point  my  pen  of  steel 
To  break  "  such  flies  upon  the  wheel  ?  " 
With  minds  to  Truth  and  Sense  unknown, 
Who  dare  not  call  their  words  their  own. 
Rail  on,  Rail  on,  ye  heartless  Crew  ! 
Your  Leader's  grand  design  pursue  : 
Secure  behind  her  ample  shield, 
Yours  is  the  harvest  of  the  field. — 
My  path  with  thorns  you  cannot  strew, 
Nay  more,  my  warmest  thanks  are  due ; 
When  such  as  you  revile  my  Name, 
Bright  beams  the  rising  Sun  of  Fame, 
Chasing  the  shades  of  envious  night, 
Outshining  every  critic  Light. — 
Such,  such  as  you  will  serve  to  show 
Each  radiant  tint  with  higher  glow. 
Vain  is  the  feeble  cheerless  toil. 
Your  efforts  on  yourselves  recoil ; 
Then  Glory  still  for  me  you  raise. 
Yours  is  the  Censure,  mine  the  Praise. 

Byron, 

December  I,  1 806. 


SOLILOQUY    OF    A    BARD    IN    THE    COUNTRY.  217 


SOLILOQUY  OF  A  BARD  IN  THE  COUNTRY.^ 

'TwAS  now  the  noon  of  night,  and  all  was  still, 

Except  a  hapless  Rhymer  and  his  quill. 

In  vain  he  calls  each  Muse  in  order  down, 

Like  other  females,  these  will  sometimes  frown ; 

He  frets,  he  fumes,  and  ceasing  to  invoke 

The  Nine,  in  anguish'd  accents  thus  he  spoke : 

Ah  what  avails  it  thus  to  waste  my  time. 

To  roll  in  Epic,  or  to  rave  in  Rhyme  ? 

What  worth  is  some  few  partial  readers'  praise, 

If  ancient  Virgins  croaking  censures  raise  ? 

Where  few  attend,  'tis  useless  to  indite  ; 

Where  few  can  read,  'tis  folly  sure  to  write ; 

Where  none  but  girls  and  striplings  dare  admire. 

And  Critics  rise  in  every  country  Squire — 

But  yet  this  last  my  candid  Muse  admits. 

When  Peers  are  Poets,  Squires  may  well  be  Wits ; 

When  schoolboys  vent  their  amorous  flames  in  verse, 

Matrons  may  sure  their  characters  asperse ; 

And  if  a  little  parson  joins  the  train. 

And  echos  back  his  Patron's  voice  again — 

Though  not  delighted,  yet  I  must  forgive. 

Parsons  as  well  as  other  folks  must  live  : — 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.] 


2l8  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

From  rage  he  rails  not,  rather  say  from  dread, 

He  does  not  speak  for  Virtue,  but  for  bread ; 

And  this  we  know  is  in  his  Patron's  giving, 

For  Parsons  cannot  eat  without  a  Living, 

The  Matron  knows  I  love  the  Sex  too  well, 

Even  unprovoked  aggression  to  repel. 

What  though  from  private  pique  her  anger  grew, 

And  bade  her  blast  a  heart  she  never  knew  ? 

What  though,  she  said,  for  one  light  heedless  line. 

That  Wilmot's  ^  verse  was  far  more  pure  than  mine  ! 

In  wars  like  these,  I  neither  fight  nor  fly. 

When  da?nes  accuse  'tis  bootless  to  deny ; 

Her's  be  the  harvest  of  the  martial  field, 

I  can't  attack,  where  Beauty  forms  the  shield. 

But  when  a  pert  Physician  loudly  cries. 

Who  hunts  for  scandal,  and  who  lives  by  lies, 

A  walking  register  of  daily  news, 

Train'd  to  invent,  and  skilful  to  abuse — 

For  arts  like  these  at  bounteous  tables  fed, 

When  S condemns  a  book  he  never  read. 

Declaring  with  a  coxcomb's  native  air, 
The  moraVs  shocking,  though  the  rhymes  are  fair. 
Ah  !  must  he  rise  unpunish'd  from  the  feast. 
Nor  lash'd  by  vengeance  into  truth  at  least  ? 
Such  lenity  were  more  than  Man's  indeed  ! 
Those  who  condemn,  should  surely  deign  to  read. 

I.  [John   Wilmot,  Earl   of  Rochester   (1647-1680).      His 
Poems  were  published  in  the  year  of  his  death.] 


SOLILOQUY    OF    A    EAKD    IN    THE    COUNTRY.  219 

Yet  must  I  spare — nor  thus  my  pen  degrade, 
I  quite  forgot  that  scandal  was  his  trade. 
For  food  and  raiment  thus  the  coxcomb  rails, 
For  those  who  fear  his  physic,  like  his  tales. 
Why  should  his  harmless  censure  seem  offence  ? 
Still  let  him  eat,  although  at  my  expense, 
And  join  the  herd  to  Sense  and  Truth  unknown, 
Who  dare  not  call  their  very  thoughts  their  own. 
And  share  with  these  applause,  a  godlike  bribe, 
In  short,  do  anything,  qxcq]}\.  prescribe : — 
For  though  in  garb  of  Galen  he  appears, 
His  practice  is  not  equal  to  his  years. 
Without  improvement  since  he  first  began, 
A  young  Physician,  though  an  ancient  Man — 
Now  let  me  cease — Physician,  Parson,  Dame, 
Still  urge  your  task,  and  if  you  can,  defame. 
The  humble  offerings  of  my  Muse  destroy. 
And  crush,  oh  !  noble  conquest !  crush  a  Boy. 
What  though  some  silly  girls  have  lov'd  the  strain. 
And  kindly  bade  me  tune  my  Lyre  again  ; 
AVhat  though  some  feeling,  or  some  partial  few. 
Nay,  Men  of  Taste  and  Reputation  too, 
Have  deign'd  to  praise  the  firstlings  of  my  Muse — 
If  you  your  sanction  to  the  theme  refuse, 
If  you  your  great  protection  still  withdraw, 
Whose  Praise  is  Glory,  and  whose  Voice  is  law ! 
Soon  must  I  fall  an  unresisting  foe, 
A  hapless  victim  yielding  to  the  blow. — 


220  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Thus  Pope  by  Curl  and  Dennis  was  destroyed, 

Thus  Gray  and  Mason  yield  to  furious  Loyd ;  ^ 

From  Dryden,  Milbourne  ^  tears  the  palm  away, 

And  thus  I  fall,  though  meaner  far  than  they. 

As  in  the  field  of  combat,  side  by  side, 

A  Fabius  and  some  noble  Roman  died. 

Dec.  1806. 

L'AMITIE   EST   L'AMOUR   SANS   AILES.^ 
I. 

Why  should  my  anxious  breast  repine, 

Because  my  youth  is  fled  ? 
Days  of  delight  may  still  be  mine ; 

Affection  is  not  dead. 
In  tracing  back  the  years  of  youth. 
One  firm  record,  one  lasting  truth 

Celestial  consolation  brings ; 
Bear  it,  ye  breezes,  to  the  seat. 
Where  first  my  heart  responsive  beat, — 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  !  " 

1.  [Robert  Lloyd  (i 733-1 764).  The  following  lines  occur 
in  the  first  of  two  odes  to  Obscu7'ity  and  Oblivion — parodies 
of  the  odes  of  Gray  and  Mason  : — 

"  Heard  ye  the  din  of  modern  rhymers  bray  } 

It  was  cool  M n  and  warm  G y, 

Involv'd  in  tenfold  smoke."] 

2.  [The  Rev.  Luke  Milbourne  (died  1720)  published,  in 
1698,  his  Notes  on  Dryden'' s  Virgil,  containing  a  venomous 
attack  on  Dryden.  They  are  alluded  to  in  The  Dunciad, 
and  also  by  Dr.  Johnson,  who  wrote  {Life  of  Drydefi),  "  His 
outrages  seem  to  be  the  ebullitions  of  a  mind  agitated  by 
stronger  resentment  than  bad  poetry  can  excite."] 

3.  [The  MS.  is  preserved  at  Newstead.] 


L'AMITlfi    EST    l'AMOUR   SANS    AILES.  221 

2. 

Through  few,  but  deeply  chequer'd  years, 

What  moments  have  been  mine  ! 
Now  half  obscured  by  clouds  of  tears, 

Now  bright  in  rays  divine ; 
Howe'er  my  future  doom  be  cast. 
My  soul,  enraptured  with  the  past. 

To  one  idea  fondly  clings ; 
Friendship  !  that  thought  is  all  thine  own, 
Worth  worlds  of  bliss,  that  thought  alone — 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  ! " 

3- 

Where  yonder  yew-trees  lightly  wave 

Their  branches  on  the  gale. 
Unheeded  heaves  a  simple  grave. 

Which  tells  the  common  tale ; 
Round  this  unconscious  schoolboys  stray. 
Till  the  dull  knell  of  childish  play 

From  yonder  studious  mansion  rings ; 
But  here,  whene'er  my  footsteps  move. 
My  silent  tears  too  plainly  prove, 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  ! " 

4- 
Oh,  Love  !  before  thy  glowing  shrine. 

My  early  vows  were  paid ; 
My  hopes,  my  dreams,  my  heart  was  thine, 

But  these  are  now  decay'd ; 


222  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

For  thine  are  pinions  like  the  wind, 
No  trace  of  thee  remains  behind, 

Except,  alas  !  thy  jealous  stings. 
Away,  away  !  delusive  power, 
Thou  shalt  not  haunt  my  coming  hour ; 

Unless,  indeed,  without  thy  wings. 

5- 

Seat  of  my  youth  !  ^  thy  distant  spire 

Recalls  each  scene  of  joy; 
My  bosom  glows  with  former  fire, — 

In  mind  again  a  boy. 
Thy  grove  of  elms,  thy  verdant  hill, 
Thy  every  path  delights  me  still, 

Each  flower  a  double  fragrance  flings  ; 
Again,  as  once,  in  converse  gay. 
Each  dear  associate  seems  to  say, 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  ! " 

6. 

My  Lycus  !  ^  wherefore  dost  thou  weep  ? 
Thy  falling  tears  restrain ; 


1.  [Harrow.] 

2.  [Lord  Clare  had  written  to  Byron,  "  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,  '  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.' 
Indeed,  Byron,  you  wrong  me  ;  and  I  have  no  doubt,  at  least 
I  hope,  you  are  wrong  yourself." — Life^  p.  25.] 


l'amiti6  est  l' amour  sans  ailes.  223 

Affection  for  a  time  may  sleep, 

But,  oh,  'twill  wake  again. 
Think,  think,  my  friend,  when  next  we  meet, 
Our  long-wish'd  interview,  how  sweet ! 

From  this  my  hope  of  rapture  springs  ; 
While  youthful  hearts  thus  fondly  swell, 
Absence,  my  friend,  can  only  tell, 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  ! " 

7. 
In  one,  and  one  alone  deceiv'd, 

Did  I  my  error  mourn  ? 
No — from  oppressive  bonds  reliev'd, 

I  left  the  wretch  to  scorn. 
I  turn'd  to  those  my  childhood  knew, 
With  feelings  warm,  with  bosoms  true, 

Twin'd  with  my  heart's  according  strings ; 
And  till  those  vital  chords  shall  break, 
For  none  but  these  my  breast  shall  wake 

Friendship,  the  power  deprived  of  wings  ! 

8. 

Ye  few  !  my  soul,  my  life  is  yours. 

My  memory  and  my  hope  ; 
Your  worth  a  lasting  love  insures, 

Unfetter'd  in  its  scope  ; 
From  smooth  deceit  and  terror  sprung, 
With  aspect  fair  and  honey'd  tongue. 


224  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Let  Adulation  wait  on  kings  ; 
With  joy  elate,  by  snares  beset, 
We,  we,  my  friends,  can  ne'er  forget, 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  ! " 

9. 

Fictions  and  dreams  inspire  the  bard, 

Who  rolls  the  epic  song ; 
Friendship  and  truth  be  my  reward — 

To  me  no  bays  belong ; 
If  laurell'd  Fame  but  dwells  with  lies. 
Me  the  enchantress  ever  flies. 

Whose  heart  and  not  whose  fancy  sings ; 
Simple  and  young,  I  dare  not  feign  ; 
Mine  be  the  rude  yet  heartfelt  strain, 

"  Friendship  is  Love  without  his  wings  ! " 

December  2(),  1806.     [First  published,  1832.] 


THE   PRAYER   OF   NATURE.^ 

I. 

Father  of  Light !  great  God  of  Heaven  ! 

Hear'st  thou  the  accents  of  despair  ? 
Can  guilt  like  man's  be  e'er  forgiven  ? 

Can  vice  atone  for  crimes  by  prayer  ? 

I.  [These  stanzas  were  first  published  in  Moore's  Letters 
and  jf  ournals  of  Lord  Byron,  1830,  i.  106.] 


THE  PRAYER  OF  NATURE.  225 


Father  of  Light,  on  thee  I  call ! 

Thou  see' St  my  soul  is  dark  within ; 
Thou,  who  canst  mark  the  sparrow's  fall, 

Avert  from  me  the  death  of  sin. 

3- 

No  shrine  I  seek,  to  sects  unknown ; 

Oh,  point  to  me  the  path  of  truth ! 
Thy  dread  Omnipotence  I  own ; 

Spare,  yet  amend,  the  faults  of  youth. 

4. 

Let  bigots  rear  a  gloomy  fane, 

Let  Superstition  hail  the  pile, 
Let  priests,  to  spread  their  sable  reign, 

With  tales  of  mystic  rites  beguile. 

5. 
Shall  man  confine  his  Maker's  sway 

To  Gothic  domes  of  mouldering  stone  ? 
Thy  temple  is  the  face  of  day ; 

Earth,  Ocean,  Heaven  thy  boundless  throne. 

6. 

Shall  man  condemn  his  race  to  Hell, 
Unless  they  bend  in  pompous  form  ? 

Tell  us  that  all,  for  one  who  fell. 
Must  perish  in  the  mingling  storm  ? 

VOL.  I.  Q 


226  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Shall  each  pretend  to  reach  the  skies, 
Yet  doom  his  brother  to  expire, 

Whose  soul  a  different  hope  supplies, 
Or  doctrines  less  severe  inspire  ? 

8. 

Shall  these,  by  creeds  they  can't  expound, 
Prepare  a  fancied  bHss  or  woe  ? 

Shall  reptiles,  groveling  on  the  ground, 
Their  great  Creator's  purpose  know  ? 

9- 

Shall  those,  who  live  for  self  alone,'- 
Whose  years  float  on  in  daily  crime — 

Shall  they,  by  Faith,  for  guilt  atone. 
And  live  beyond  the  bounds  of  Time  ? 

10. 

Father  !  no  prophet's  laws  I  seek, — 
Thy  laws  in  Nature's  works  appear ; — 

I  own  myself  corrupt  and  weak. 
Yet  will  I  pra}\  for  thou  wilt  hear  1 


i.  Shall  these  ivho  live  f 01'  self  alone, 

Whose  years  fleet  on  in  daily  crime — 
Shall  these  by  JFaith  for  guilt  atone. 
Exist  be)'ond  the  bounds  of  Ti?ne  ? — \MS,  Neivstead. 


THE  PRAYER  OF  NATURE.  227 


Thou,  who  canst  guide  the  wandering  star, 
Through  trackless  realms  of  aether's  space ; 

Who  calm'st  the  elemental  war, 

Whose  hand  from  pole  to  pole  I  trace : 

12. 

Thou,  who  in  wisdom  plac'd  me  here. 

Who,  when  thoil  wilt,  canst  take  me  hence, 

Ah  !  whilst  I  tread  this  earthly  sphere, 
Extend  to  me  thy  wide  defence. 

13. 
To  Thee,  my  God,  to  thee  I  call ! 

Whatever  weal  or  woe  betide, 
By  thy  command  I  rise  or  fall, 

In  thy  protection  I  confide. 

14. 

If,  when  this  dust  to  dust's  restor'd, 
My  soul  shall  float  on  airy  wing, 

How  shall  thy  glorious  Name  ador'd 
Inspire  her  feeble  voice  to  sing  j 

15. 
But,  if  this  fleeting  spirit  share 

With  clay  the  Grave's  eternal  bed. 
While  Life  yet  throbs  I  raise  my  prayer. 

Though  dooin'd  no  more  to  quit  the  dead. 


228  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 

i6. 

To  Thee  I  breathe  my  humble  strain, 
Grateful  for  all  thy  mercies  past, 

And  hope,  my  God,  to  thee  again  '• 
This  erring  life  may  fly  at  last. 

December  29,  1806. 


TRANSLATION    FROM  ANACREON.^ 

Ets  poSov. 
ODE    5. 

Mingle  with  the  genial  bowl 
The  Rose,  the  flowWet  of  the  Soul, 
The  Rose  and  Grape  together  quafFd, 
How  doubly  sweet  will  be  the  draught ! 
With  Roses  crown  our  jovial  brows, 
While  every  cheek  with  Laughter  glows ; 
While  Smiles  and  Songs,  with  Wine  incite, 
To  wing  our  moments  with  Delight. 
Rose  by  far  the  fairest  birth, 
WTiich  Spring  and  Nature  cull  from  Earth — • 
Rose  whose  sweetest  perfume  given. 
Breathes  our  thoughts  from  Earth  to  Heaven. 

i.   My  hope,  my  God,  in  thee  again 

This  erri7ig  life  will  fly  at  last. — \MS.  Newstead.] 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.] 


ossian's  address  to  the  sun  in  "  carthon."     229 

Rose  whom  the  Deities  above, 
From  Jove  to  Hebe,  dearly  love, 
When  Cytherea's  blooming  Boy, 
Flies  lightly  through  the  dance  of  Joy, 
With  him  the  Graces  then  combine, 
And  rosy  wreaths  their  locks  entwine. 
Then  will  I  sing  divinely  crown'd, 
With  dusky  leaves  my  temples  bound — 
Lyaeus  !  in  thy  bowers  of  pleasure, 
I'll  wake  a  wildly  thrilling  measure. 
There  will  my  gentle  Girl  and  I, 
Along  the  mazes  sportive  fly, 
Will  bend  before  thy  potent  throne — • 
.Rose,  Wine,  and  Beauty,  all  my  own. 

1805. 


[OSSIAN'S  ADDRESS   TO   THE   SUN   IN 
"  CARTHON." '] 

Oh  !  thou  that  roll'st  above  thy  glorious  Fire, 
Round  as  the  shield  which  grac'd  my  godlike  Sire, 
Whence  are  the  beams,  O  Sun  !  thy  endless  blaze, 
Which  far  eclipse  each  minor  Glory's  rays  ? 
Forth  in  thy  Beauty  here  thou  deign'st  to  shine ! 
Night  quits  her  car,  the  twinkling  stars  decline ; 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the 
first  time  printed.  (See  Ossiafi's  Poeffis,  London,  1819,  pp. 
xvii.  119.)] 


230  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Pallid  and  cold  the  Moon  descends  to  cave 

Her  sinking  beams  beneath  the  Western  wave ; 

But  thou  still  mov'st  alone,  of  light  the  Source— 

Who  can  o'ertake  thee  in  thy  fiery  course  ? 

Oaks  of  the  mountains  fall,  the  rocks  decay, 

Weighed  down  with  years  the  hills  dissolve  away. 

A  certain  space  to  yonder  Moon  is  given, 

She  rises,  smiles,  and  then  is  lost  in  Heaven. 

Ocean  in  sullen  murmurs  ebbs  and  flows, 

But  thy  bright  beam  unchanged  for  ever  glows ! 

When  Earth  is  darkened  with  tempestuous  skies, 

When  Thunder  shakes  the  sphere  and  Lightning  flies, 

Thy  face,  O  Sun,  no  rolling  blasts  deform. 

Thou  look' St  from  clouds  and  laughest  at  the  Storm. 

To  Ossian,  Orb  of  Light !  thou  look'st  in  vain, 

Nor  cans't  thou  glad  his  aged  eyes  again, 

Whether  thy  locks  in  Orient  Beauty  stream. 

Or  glimmer  through  the  West  with  fainter  gleam — 

But  thou,  perhaps,  like  me  with  age  must  bend ; 

Thy  season  o'er,  thy  days  will  find  their  end, 

No  more  yon  azure  vault  with  rays  adorn, 

Lull'd  in  the  clouds,  nor  hear  the  voice  of  Morn. 

Exult,  O  Sun,  in  all  thy  youthful  strength  ! 

Age,  dark  unlovely  Age,  appears  at  length, 

As  gleams  the  moonbeam  through  the  broken  cloud 

While  mountain  vapours  spread  their  misty  shroud — 

The  Northern  tempest  howls  along  at  last. 

And  wayworn  strangers  shrink  amid  the  blast. 


PIGNUS   AMORIS.  23 1 

Thou  rolling  Sun  who  gild'st  those  rising  towers, 
Fair  didst  thou  shine  upon  my  earlier  hours  ! 
I  hail'd  with  smiles  the  cheering  rays  of  Morn, 
My  breast  by  no  tumultuous  Passion  torn — 
Now  hateful  are  thy  beams  which  wake  no  more 
The  sense  of  joy  which  thrill'd  my  breast  before; 
Welcome  thou  cloudy  veil  of  nightly  skies, 
To  thy  bright  canopy  the  mourner  flies : 
Once  bright,  thy  Silence  lull'd  my  frame  to  rest, 
And  Sleep  my  soul  with  gentle  visions  blest ; 
Now  wakeful  Grief  disdains  her  mild  controul. 
Dark  is  the  night,  but  darker  is  my  Soul. 
Ye  warring  Winds  of  Heav'n  your  fury  urge. 
To  me  congenial  sounds  your  wintry  Dirge : 
Swift  as  your  wings  my  happier  days  have  past, 
Keen  as  your  storms  is  Sorrow's  chilling  blast ; 
To  Tempests  thus  expos'd  my  Fate  has  been. 
Piercing  like  yours,  like  yours,  alas  !  unseen. 

J805. 

[PIGNUS    AMORIS.^] 

I. 

As  by  the  fix'd  decrees  of  Heaven, 
'Tis  vain  to  hope  that  Joy  can  last ; 

The  dearest  boon  that  Life  has  given. 
To  me  is — visions  of  the  past. 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.] 


233  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

For  these  this  toy  of  bhishmg  hue 
I  prize  with  zeal  before  unknown, 

It  tells  me  of  a  Friend  I  knew, 
Who  loved  me  for  myself  alone, 

3- 

It  tells  me  what  how  few  can  say 
Though  all  the  social  tie  commend ; 

Recorded  in  my  heart  'twill  lay/_^ 
It  tells  me  mine  was  once  a  Friend. 

4. 

Through  many  a  weary  day  gone  by. 
With  time  the  gift  is  dearer  grown ; 

And  still  I  view  in  Memory's  eye 

That  teardrop  sparkle  through  my  own. 

5- 

And  heartless  Age  perhaps  will  smile, 
Or  wonder  whence  those  feelings  sprung ; 

Yet  let  not  sterner  souls  revile, 

For  Both  were  open,  Both  were  young. 


I.  [For  the  irregular  use  of  "  lay  "  for  "  lie,"  compare  "  The 
Adieu  "  (st.  10, 1.  4,  p.  241),  and  the  much-disputed  line,  "  And 
dashest  him  to  earth — there  let  him  lay  "  iJOhilde  Harold, 
canto  iv.  st.  180).] 


A    WOMAN  S    HAIR.  233 

6. 

And  Youth  is  sure  the  only  time, 

When  Pleasure  blends  no  base  alloy ; 

When  Life  is  blest  without  a  crime, 
And  Innocence  resides  with  Joy. 

7. 
Let  those  reprove  my  feeble  Soul, 

AVho  laugh  to  scorn  Affection's  name ; 
While  these  impose  a  harsh  controul, 

All  will  forgive  who  feel  the  same. 

8. 
Then  still  I  wear  my  simple  toy, 

With  pious  care  from  wreck  Til  save  it ; 
And  this  will  form  a  dear  employ 
For  dear  I  was  to  him  who  gave  it. 

'  1S06. 


[A  WOMAN'S   HAIR.^] 

Oh  !  little  lock  of  golden  hue 
In  gently  waving  ringlet  curl'd, 

By  the  dear  head  on  which  you  grew, 
I  would  not  lose  you  for  a  wo7-ld. 

I.  [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  "  To  a  Lady," 
etc.,  p.  212.] 


234  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


Not  though  a  thousand  more  adorn         / 
The  poHshed  brow  where  once  you  shone, 

Like  rays  which  gild  a  cloudless  sky  *• 
Beneath  Columbia's  fervid  zone. 


iSo6. 


STANZAS   TO   JESSY.^ 
I. 

There  is  a  mystic  thread  of  life 
So  dearly  wreath'd  with  mine  alone, 

That  Destiny's  relentless  knife 
At  once  must  sever  both,  or  none. 

i.  a  cloudless  morn. — \Ed.  1832.] 

I.  ["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,  un- 
questionably genuine.  They  appeared  first  in  Monthly 
Literary  Recreaticms  (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  Hours  of  Idleness. 
The  same  number  of  Mojithly  Literary  Recreatiojis  (for 
July,  1807)  contains  Byron's  review  of  Wordsworth's  Poems 
(2  vols.,  1807),  and  a  highly  laudatory  notice  of  Hours  of 
Idleness.  The  lines  are  headed  "  Stanzas  to  Jessy,"  and 
are  signed  "  George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron."  They  were  re- 
published in  1824,  by  Knight  and  Lacy,  in  vol.  v.  of  the 
three  supplementary  volumes  of  the  Works,  and  again  in  the 
same  year  by  John  Bumpus  and  A.  Griffin,  in  their  Miscel- 
laneous Poems,  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. 


STANZAS   TO   JESSY.  235 


There  is  a  Form  on  which  these  eyes 
Have  fondly  gazed  with  such  deHght — 

By  day,  that  Form  their  joy  supplies, 

And  Dreams  restore  it,  through  the  night. 

3- 
There  is  a  Voice  whose  tones  inspire 

Such  softened  feelings  in  my  breast,'* 
I  would  not  hear  a  Seraph  Choir, 

Unless  that  voice  could  join  the  rest. 

4. 
There  is  a  Face  whose  Blushes  tell 

Affection's  tale  upon  the  cheek. 
But  pallid  at  our  fond  farewell. 

Proclaims  more  love  than  words  can  speak. 

i.  Such  thrills  of  Rapture. — [Knight  and  Lacy,  1824,  v.  56.] 

{British  Museum^  Eg.  MSB.  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  : — 

''July  21,  1807. 
"  Sir, 

"  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. 

"  Etc.,  etc.,  BVRON. 
"  P.S. — Send  your  answer  when  convenient."] 


236  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

5- 

There  is  a  Lip,  which  mine  has  prest, 
But  none  had  ever  prest  before ; 

It  vowed  to  make  me  sweetly  blest, 
That  mine  alone  should  press  it  more.'- 


There  is  a  Bosom  all  my  own, 
Has  pillow'd  oft  this  aching  head, 

A  Mouth  which  smiles  on  me  alone. 

An  Eye,  whose  tears  with  mine  are  shed. 

7. 

There  are  two  Hearts  whose  movements  thrill, 

In  unison  so  closely  sweet. 
That  Pulse  to  Pulse  responsive  still 

They  Both  must  heave,  or  cease  to  beat. 

8. 

There  are  two  Souls,  whose  equal  flow 

In  gentle  stream  so  calmly  run. 
That  when  they  part — they  part  ? — ah  no  ! 

They  cannot  part — those  Souls  are  One. 

[George  Gordon,  Lord]  Byron. 
i.  And  mine,  mine  only. — [Knight  and  Lacy,  v.  56.] 


THE   ADIEU.  237 


THE  ADIEU. 

WRITTEN    UNDER   THE    IMPRESSION    THAT   THE    AUTHOR 
WOULD    SOON     DIE. 

I. 

Adieu,  thou  Hill !  ^  where  early  joy 

Spread  roses  o'er  my  brow ; 
Where  Science  seeks  each  loitering  boy 

With  knowledge  to  endow. 
Adieu,  my  youthful  friends  or  foes, 
Partners  of  former  bliss  or  woes ; 

No  more  through  Ida's  paths  we  stray ; 
Soon  must  I  share  the  gloomy  cell, 
Whose  ever-slumbering  inmates  dwell 

Unconscious  of  the  day. 


Adieu,  ye  hoary  Regal  Fanes,*- 

Ye  spires  of  Granta's  vale. 
Where  Learning  robed  in  sable  reigns, 

And  Melancholy  pale. 
Ye  comrades  of  the  jovial  hour, 
Ye  tenants  of  the  classic  bower, 

i.  ye  rei^al  Towers. — [MS.  A'eivsiead.' 

1.  [Harrow,] 


238  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

On  Cama's  verdant  margin  plac'd, 
Adieu  !  while  memory  still  is  mine, 
For  offerings  on  Oblivion's  shrine, 

These  scenes  must  be  effac'd. 

3. 
Adieu,  ye  mountains  of  the  clime 

Where  grew  my  youthful  years ; 
Where  Loch  na  Garr  in  snows  sublime 

His  giant  summit  rears. 
Why  did  my  childhood  wander  forth 
From  you,  ye  regions  of  the  North, 

With  sons  of  Pride  to  roam  ? 
Why  did  I  quit  my  Highland  cave, 
Marr's  dusky  heath,  and  Dee's  clear  wave, 

To  seek  a  Sotheron  home  ? 

4. 

Hall  of  my  Sires  !  a  long  farewell-— 

Yet  why  to  thee  adieu  ? 
Thy  vaults  will  echo  back  my  knell 

Thy  towers  my  tomb  will  view : 
The  faltering  tongue  which  sung  thy  fall, 
And  former  glories  of  thy  Hall, 

Forgets  its  wonted  simple  note- 
But  yet  the  Lyre  retains  the  strings, 
And  sometimes,  on  ^olian  wings, 

In  dying  strains  may  float. 


THE    ADIEU.  239 

Fields,  which  surround  yon  rustic  col,^ 

While  yet  I  linger  here, 
Adieu  !  you  are  not  now  forgot, 

To  retrospection  dear. 
Streamlet  !  ^  along  whose  rippling  surge 
My  youthful  limbs  were  wont  to  urge, 

At  noontide  heat,  their  pliant  course  ; 
Plunging  with  ardour  from  the  shore, 
Thy  springs  will  lave  these  limbs  no  more, 

Deprived  of  active  force. 


And  shall  I  here  forget  the  scene, 

Still  nearest  to  my  breast  ? 
Rocks  rise  and  rivers  roll  between 

The  spot  which  passion  blest ; 
Yet  Mary,  ^  all  thy  beauties  seem 
Fresh  as  in  Love's  bewitching  dream. 

To  me  in  smiles  display'd ; 
Till  slow  disease  resigns  his  prey 
To  Death,  the  parent  of  decay, 

Thine  image  cannot  fade. 


1.  [Mrs.  Pigot's  Cottage.] 

2.  [The  river  Crete,  at  Southwell  J 

3.  [Mary  Chaworth.] 


24©  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

And  thou,  my  Friend  !  whose  gentle  love 

Yet  thrills  my  bosom's  chords, 
How  much  thy  friendship  was  above 

Description's  power  of  words  ! 
Still  near  my  breast  thy  gift  ^  I  wear  '• 
Which  sparkled  once  with  FeeUng's  tear, 

Of  Love  the  pure,  the  sacred  gem  : 
Our  souls  were  equal,  and  our  lot 
In  that  dear  moment  quite  forgot ; 

Let  Pride  alone  condemn  ! 

8. 

All,  all  is  dark  and  cheerless  now  ! 

No  smile  of  Love's  deceit 
Can  warm  my  veins  with  wonted  glow, 

Can  bid  Life's  pulses  beat : 
Not  e'en  the  hope  of  future  fame 
Can  wake  my  faint,  exhausted  frame. 

Or  crown  with  fancied  wreaths  my  head. 
Mine  is  a  short  inglorious  race, — 
To  humble  in  the  dust  my  face, 

And  mingle  with  the  dead. 

i.    The  gift  I  ivear. — \_MS.  Neivsiead.\ 

I.  [Compare  the  verses  on  "  The  Cornelian,"  p.  66,  and 
"  Pignus  Amoris,"  p.  231.] 


THE    ADIEU.  241 

Oh  Fame  !  thou  goddess  of  my  heart ; 

On  him  who  gains  thy  praise, 
Pointless  must  fall  the  Spectre's  dart, 

Consumed  in  Glory's  blaze  ; 
But  me  she  beckons  from  the  earth, 
My  name  obscure,  unmark'd  my  birth, 

My  life  a  short  and  vulgar  dream  : 
Lost  in  the  dull,  ignoble  crowd. 
My  hopes  recline  within  a  sliroud, 

My  fate  is  Lethe's  stream. 

10. 
When  I  repose  beneath  the  sod, 

Unheeded  in  the  clay, 
Where  once  my  playful  footsteps  trod. 

Where  now  my  head  must  lay,^ 
The  meed  of  Pity  will  be  shed 
In  dew-drops  o'er  my  narrow  bed, 

By  nightly  skies,  and  storms  alone  ; 
No  mortal  eye  will  deign  to  steep 
With  tears  the  dark  sepulchral  deep 

Which  hides  a  name  unknown. 


Forget  this  world,  my  restless  sprite. 
Turn,  turn  thy  thoughts  to  Heaven  ; 

I.  [See  note  to  "  Pignus  Amoris,"  st.  3, 1.  3,  p.  232.] 

VOL.  I.  R 


242  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

There  must  thou  soon  direct  thy  flight, 

If  errors  are  forgiven. 
To  bigots  and  to  sects  unknown, 
Bow  down  beneath  the  Almighty's  Throne  ; 

To  Him  address  thy  trembling  prayer : 
He,  who  is  merciful  and  just, 
Will  not  reject  a  child  of  dust, 

Although  His  meanest  care. 

12. 

Father  of  Light !  to  Thee  I  call ; 

My  soul  is  dark  within  : 
Thou  who  canst  mark  the  sparrow's  fall, 

Avert  the  death  of  sin. 
Thou,  who  canst  guide  the  wandering  star, 
Who  calm'st  the  elemental  war, 
Whose  mantle  is  yon  boundless  sky, 

My  thoughts,  my  words,  my  crimes  forgive  ; 
And,  since  I  soon  must  cease  to  live. 

Instruct  me  how  to  die.'- 

1807.     [First  published,  1832.] 

TO 1 

I. 

Oh  !  well  I  know  your  subtle  Sex, 
Frail  daughters  of  the  wanton  Eve, — 

i.  And  since  I  nitist  forbear  to  live, 

Instriici  me  ho'tu  to  die. — \MS.  Newstead.^ 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.] 


TO   243 

While  jealous  pangs  our  Souls  perplex, 
No  passion  prompts  you  to  relieve. 


2. 


From  Love,  or  Pity  ne'er  you  fall, 

By  you,  no  mutual  Flame  is  felt, 
'Tis  Vanity,  which  rules  you  all, 

Desire  alone  which  makes  you  melt. 

3* 
I  will  not  say  no  souls  are  yours, 

Aye,  ye  have  Souls,  and  dark  ones  too, 
Souls  to  contrive  those  smiling  lures, 

To  snare  our  simple  hearts  for  you. 

4. 
Yet  shall  you  never  bind  me  fast, 

Long  to  adore  such  brittle  toys, 
I'll  rove  along,  from  first  to  last, 

And  change  whene'er  my  fancy  cloys. 

5- 
Oh  !   I  should  be  a  l^a^y  fool, 

To  sigh  the  dupe  of  female  art- 
Woman  !  perhaps  thou  hast  a  Soii/, 

But  where  have  Demons  hid  thy  Heart  1 

January^  1807. 


244  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


ON   THE    EYES    OF    MISS   A H » 

Anne's  Eye  is  liken'd  to  the  Sun^ 
From  it  such  Beams  of  Beauty  fall ; 

And  this  can  be  denied  by  none, 
For  like  the  Su7i^  it  shines  on  All. 

Then  do  not  admiration  smother, 

Or  say  these  glances  don't  become  her ; 

To  you^  or  /,  or  any  other 

Her  Siui,  displays  perpetual  Summer.- 

Jantiary  14,  1807. 


TO   A   VAIN    LADY.3 


Ah,  heedless  girl !  why  thus  disclose 
What  ne'er  was  meant  for  other  ears  ; 

Why  thus  destroy  thine  own  repose, 
And  dig  the  source  of  future  tears  ? 

1.  [Miss  Anne  Houson.  From  an  autograph  MS.  at  New- 
stead,  now  for  the  first  time  printed.] 

2.  [Compare,  for  the  same  simile,  the  lines  "  To  Edward 
Noel  Long,  Esq.,"  p.  187,  ante^ 

3.  [To  A  Young  Lady  (Miss  Anne  Houson)  whose  vanity 
induced  her  to  repeat  the  compliments  paid  her  by  some 
young  men  of  her  acquaintance. — MS.  Newstead.'] 


TO   A   VAIN    LADY.  245 

2. 

Oh,  thou  wilt  weep,  imprudent  maid, 
While  lurking  envious  foes  will  smile, 

For  all  the  follies  thou  hast  said 
Of  those  who  spoke  but  to  beguile. 

3. 

Vain  girl !  thy  ling' ring  woes  are  nigh, 
If  thou  believ'st  what  striplings  say  : 

Oh,  from  the  deep  temptation  fly. 
Nor  fall  the  specious  spoiler's  prey. 

4- 
Dost  thou  repeat,  in  childish  boast. 

The  words  man  utters  to  deceive  ? 
Thy  peace,  thy  hope,  thy  all  is  lost. 

If  thou  canst  venture  to  believe. 

5- 

While  now  amongst  thy  female  peers 
Thou  tell'st  again  the  soothing  tale. 

Canst  thou  not  mark  the  rising  sneers 
Duplicity  in  vain  would  veil  ? 

6. 

These  tales  in  secret  silence  hush, 
Nor  make  thyself  the  public  gaze  : 

What  modest  maid  without  a  blush 

Recounts  a  flattering  coxcomb's  praise  ? 


246  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

Will  not  the  laughing  boy  despise 
Her  who  relates  each  fond  conceit — 

Who,  thinking  Heaven  is  in  her  eyes. 
Yet  cannot  see  the  slight  deceit? 

8. 

For  she  who  takes  a  soft  delight 
These  amorous  nothings  in  revealing, 

Must  credit  all  we  say  or  write, 
While  vanity  prevents  concealing. 

9- 

Cease,  if  you  prize  your  Beauty's  reign  ! 

No  jealousy  bids  me  reprove  : 
One,  who  is  thus  from  nature  vain, 

I  pity,  but  I  cannot  love. 

Jamiary  15,  1807.     [First  published,  1832.] 


TO  ANNE.* 
I. 

Oh,  Anne,  your  offences  to  me  have  been  grievous : 
I  thought  from  my  wrath  no  atonement  could  save  you; 

But  Woman  is  made  to  command  and  deceive  us — 
I  look'd  in  your  face,  and  I  almost  forgave  you. 

I.  [Miss  Anne  Houson.] 


EGOTISM.      A    LETTER   TO   J.    T.    BECHER.  247 

2. 

I  vow'd  I  could  ne'er  for  a  moment  respect  you, 
Yet  thought  that  a  day's  separation  was  long  ; 

When  we  met,  I  determined  again  to  suspect  you — 
Your  smile  soon  convinced  me  suspicion  was  wrong. 

3- 

I  swore,  in  a  transport  of  young  indignation, 
With  fervent  contempt  evermore  to  disdain  you : 

I  saw  you — my  a7iger  became  admiration  ; 

And  now,  all  my  wish,  all  my  hope's  to  regain  you. 

4- 
With  beauty  like  yours,  oh,  how  vain  the  contention ! 

Thus  lowly  I  sue  for  forgiveness  before  you ; — 
At  once  to  conclude  such  a  fruitless  dissension, 

Be  false,  my  sweet  Anne,  when  I  cease  to  adore  you ! 
Januaiy  16,  1807.     [First  published,  1832. 


EGOTISM.     A   LETTER   TO    J.  T.  BECHER.i 

I. 

If  Fate  should  seal  my  Death  to-morrow, 
(Though  much  /hope  she  \\\\\ postpone  it,) 

I've  held  a  share  oi/oy  and  Sorrow, 
Enough  for  Ten  ;  and  here  I  ow?t  it. 

I.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.] 


248  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


I've  lived  as  many  other  men  live, 

And  yet,  I  think,  with  more  enjoyment; 

For  could  I  through  my  days  again  live, 
I'd  pass  them  in  the  same  employment. 

3. 

That  is  to  say,  with  some  exception^ 

For  though  I  will  not  make  confession, 

I've  seen  too  much  of  man's  deception 
Ever  again  to  trust  profession. 

4. 
Some  sage  Mamtnas  with  gesture  haughty, 

Pronounce  me  quite  a  youthful  Sirmer — 
But  Daughters  say,  "  although  he's  naughty, 

You  must  not  check  a  Young  Beginner/" 

5. 
I've  loved,  and  many  damsels  know  it — 

But  whom  I  don't  intend  to  mention. 
As  certain  stanzas  also  show  it, 

Some  say  deserving  Reprehension. 


Some  ancient  Dames,  of  virtue  fiery, 
(Unless  Report  does  much  beUe  them,) 

Have  lately  made  a  sharp  Enquiry, 
And  much  it  grieves  me  to  deny  them. 


EGOTISM.      A    LETTER   TO    J.    T.    BECHER.  249 

7- 
Two  whom  I  lov'd  had  eyes  of  B/^ie, 

To  which  I  hope  you've  no  objection; 
The  ^es^  had  eyes  of  darker  Hue — 

Each  Nymph,  of  course,  was  all  perfection, 

8. 
But  here  I'll  close  my  chaste  Description, 

Nor  say  the  deeds  of  animosity ; 
For  silence  is  the  best  prescription. 

To  physic  idle  curiosity. 

9- 

Of  Friends  I've  known  a  goodly  Hundred — 
For  finding  one  in  each  acquaintance. 

By  some  deceived^  by  others  plunder'd, 
Friendships  to  me,  was  not  Repentance, 

10. 

At  School  I  thought  like  other  Children  ; 

Instead  of  Brains,  a  fine  Ingredient, 
Romaiice,  my  youthful  Head  bewildering, 

To  Sense  had  made  me  disobedient. 

II. 

A  victim,  nearly  from  affection. 

To  certain  very  precious  schemifig, 
The  still  remaining  recollection 

Has  cured  my  boyish  soul  of  Dreaming. 


250  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

12. 

By  Heaven  !  I  rather  would  forswear 
The  Earth,  and  all  the  joys  reserved  me, 

Than  dare  again  the  specious  Snare^ 

From  which  my  Fate  and  Heave?i  preserved  me. 

13. 
Still  I  possess  some  Friends  who  love  me — 

In  each  a  much  esteemed  and  true  one ; 
The  Wealth  of  Worlds  shall  never  move  me 

To  quit  their  Friendship,  for  a  new  one. 

14. 

But  Becher  !  you're  a  reverend  pastor^ 

Now  take  it  in  consideration. 
Whether  for  penance  I  should  fast,  or 

Pray  for  my  si?is  in  expiation. 

15- 
I  own  myself  the  child  of  Folly, 

But  not  so  wicked  as  they  make  me — 
I  soon  must  die  of  melancholy. 

If  Female  smiles  should  e'er  forsake  me. 

16. 

Philosophers  have  never  doubted, 

That  Ladies'  Lips  were  made  for  kisses  I 

For  Love  I  I  could  not  live  without  it, 
For  such  a  cursed  place  as  This  is. 


TO   ANNE.  251 

Say,  Becher,  I  shall  be  forgiven  ! 

Ifyoii  don't  warrant  my  salvation, 
I  must  resign  all  Hopes  of  Heaven  ! 

For,  Faith^  I  can't  withstand  Temptation. 

P.S. — These   were   written   between   one   and   two,  after 
midnight.     I  have  not  corrected^  or  revised. 

Yours,  Byron. 


TO   ANNE.i 

I. 
Oh  say  not,  sweet  Anne,  that  the  Fates  have  decreed 

The  heart  which  adores  you  should  wish  to  dissever ; 
Such  Fates  were  to  me  most  unkind  ones  indeed, — 

To  bear  me  from  Love  and  from  Beauty  for  ever. 

2. 
Your  frowns,  lovely  girl,  are  the  Fates  which  alone 

Could  bid  me  from  fond  admiration  refrain  ; 
By  these,  every  hope,  every  wish  were  o'erthrown. 

Till  smiles  should  restore  me  to  rapture  again. 

3- 

As  the  ivy  and  oak,  in  the  forest  entwin'd, 
The  rage  of  the  tempest  united  must  weather ; 

My  love  and  my  life  were  by  nature  design'd 
To  flourish  alike,  or  to  perish  together. 

I  [Miss  Anne  Houson.] 


252  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

4. 

Then  say  not,  sweet  Anne,  that  the  Fates  have  decreed 
Your  lover  should  bid  you  a  lasting  adieu  : 

Till  Fate  can  ordain  that  his  bosom  shall  bleed, 
His  Soul,  his  Existence,  are  centred  in  you. 

1807.     [First  published,  1832.] 


TO   THE   AUTHOR   OF   A   SONNET 

BEGINNING   "  '  SAD    IS    MY    VERSE,'    YOU    SAY,    '  AND     YET 
NO   TEAR.'" 

I. 

Thy  verse  is  "  sad  "  enough,  no  doubt : 
A  devilish  deal  more  sad  than  witty  ! 

Why  we  should  weep  I  can't  find  out, 
Unless  for  thee  we  weep  in  pity. 

2. 
Yet  there  is  one  I  pity  more ; 

And  much,  alas  !  I  think  he  needs  it : 
For  he,  I'm  sure,  will  suffer  sore. 

Who,  to  his  own  misfortune,  reads  it. 

3- 
Thy  rhymes,  without  the  aid  of  magic, 

May  once  be  read — but  never  after  : 
Yet  their  effect's  by  no  means  tragic, 

Although  by  far  too  dull  for  laughter. 


ON    FINDING    A    FAN.  253 

But  would  you  make  our  bosoms  bleed, 
And  of  no  common  pang  complain — 

If  you  would  make  us  weep  indeed, 
Tell  us,  you'll  read  them  o'er  again. 

March  8,  1807.     [First  published,  1832.] 


ON   FINDING   A   FAN.^ 


In  one  who  felt  as  once  he  felt, 

This  might,  perhaps,  have  fann'd  the  flame ; 
But  now  his  heart  no  more  will  melt, 

Because  that  heart  is  not  the  same. 

2. 

As  when  the  ebbing  flames  are  low, 

The  aid  which  once  improved  their  light, 

And  bade  them  burn  with  fiercer  glow, 
Now  quenches  all  their  blaze  in  night. 

3- 

Thus  has  it  been  with  Passion's  fires — 
As  many  a  boy  and  girl  remembers — 

While  every  hope  of  love  expires, 
Extinguish'd  with  the  dying  embers. 

I.  [Of  Miss  A.  Vl.—MS.  Newstead.] 


254  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

4. 

Theyf^j/,  though  not  a  spark  survive, 
Some  careful  hand  may  teach  to  burn ; 

The  last^  alas  !  can  ne'er  survive ; 
No  touch  can  bid  its  warmth  return. 

5. 
Or,  if  it  chance  to  wake  again, 

Not  always  doom'd  its  heat  to  smother, 
It  sheds  (so  wayward  fates  ordain) 
Its  former  warmth  around  another. 

1807.     [First  published,  1S32. 


FAREWELL  TO   THE   MUSE.'- 

I. 

Thou  Power  !  who  hast  ruled  me  through  Infancy's  days, 
Young  offspring  of  Fancy,  'tis  time  we  should  part ; 

Then  rise  on  the  gale  this  the  last  of  my  lays. 

The  coldest  effusion  which  springs  from  my  heart. 

2. 
This  bosom,  responsive  to  rai>ture  no  more, 

Shall  hush  thy  wild  notes,  nor  implore  thee  to  sing ; 
The  feelings  of  childhood,  which  taught  thee  to  soar, 

Are  wafted  far  distant  on  Apathy's  wing. 

i.  Adieu  to  the  Muse. — \^MS.  Newstead.\ 


FAREWELL   TO   THE    MUSE.  255 

Though  simple  the  themes  of  my  rude  flowing  Lyre, 
Yet  even  these  themes  are  departed  for  ever ; 

No  more  beam  the  eyes  which  my  dream  could  inspire, 
My  visions  are  flown,  to  return, — alas,  never ! 

4- 
When  drain'd  is  the  nectar  which  gladdens  the  bowl, 

How  vain  is  the  effort  delight  to  prolong  ! 
When  cold  is  the  beauty  which  dwelt  in  my  soul,'- 

What  magic  of  Fancy  can  lengthen  my  song  ? 

5- 
Can  the  lips  sing  of  Love  in  the  desert  alone, 

Of  kisses  and  smiles  which  they  now  must  resign  ? 
Or  dwell  with  delight  on  the  hours  that  are  flown  ? 

Ah,  no  !  for  those  hours  can  no  longer  be  mine. 

6. 

Can  they  speak  of  the  friends  that  I  lived  but  to  love  ?  "• 
Ah,  surely  Affection  ennobles  the  strain ! 

But  how  can  my  numbers  in  sympathy  move, 

When  I  scarcely  can  hope  to  behold  them  again  ? 

7. 
Can  I  sing  of  the  deeds  which  my  Fathers  have  done. 

And  raise  my  loud  harp  to  the  fame  of  my  Sires  ? 
For  glories  like  theirs,  oh,  how  faint  is  my  tone  ! 

For  Heroes'  exploits  how  unequal  my  fires  ! 

i.    When  cold  is  the  for  }n. — \^MS.  Nei.vstead.\ 
ii.  whom  I  lived  but  to  love. — \MS.  Nei.ostead.\ 


256  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

8. 

Untouch'd,  then,  my  Lyre  shall  reply  to  the  blast — 
'Tis  hush'd ;  and  my  feeble  endeavours  are  o'er ; 

And  those  who  have  heard  it  will  pardon  the  past, 

When  they  know  that  its  murmurs  shall  vibrate  no  more. 

9- 
And  soon  shall  its  wild  erring  notes  be  forgot, 

Since  early  affection  and  love  is  o'ercast : 
Oh  !  blest  had  my  Fate  been,  and  happy  my  lot, 

Had  the  first  strain  of  love  been  the  dearest,  the  last. 

10. 

Farewell,  my  young  Muse  !  since  we  now  can  ne'er  meet ;  '• 
If  our  songs  have  been  languid,  they  surely  are  few : 

Let  us  hope  that  the  present  at  least  will  be  sweet — 
The  present — which  seals  our  eternal  Adieu. 

1807,     [First  published,  1832.] 


TO   AN    OAK   AT   NEWSTEAD.i 

T. 

Young  Oak  !  when  I  planted  thee  deep  in  the  ground, 
I  hoped  that  thy  days  would  be  longer  than  mine ; 

That  thy  dark-waving  branches  would  flourish  around, 
And  ivy  thy  trunk  with  its  mantle  entwine. 

i.  Since  we  never  can  meet. — [AIS.  Newstead.'\ 

I.  [There  is  no  heading  to  the  original  MS.,  but  on  the 
blank  leaf  at  the  end  of  the  poem  is  \\Titten,  "  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 


TO    AN    OAK    AT    NEWSTKAD.  .    257 

2. 

Such,  such  was  my  hope,  when  in  Infancy's  years, 
On  the  land  of  my  Fathers  I  rear'd  thee  with  pride  ; 

They  are  past,  and  I  water  thy  stem  with  my  tears, — 
Thy  decay,  not  the  weeds  that  surround  thee  can  hide. 

3- 
I  left  thee,  my  Oak,  and,  since  that  fatal  hour, 

A  stranger  has  dwelt  in  the  hall  of  my  Sire ; 
Till  Manhood  shall  crown  me,  not  mine  is  the  power, 

But  his,  whose  neglect  may  have  bade  thee  expire. 

4. 
Oh  !  hardy  thou  wert — even  now  Uttle  care 

Might  revive  thy  young  head,  and  thy  wounds  gently 
heal : 
But  thou  wert  not  fated  affection  to  share — 

For  who  could  suppose  that  a  Stranger  would  feel  ? 

5. 
Ah,  droop  not,  my  Oak !  lift  thy  head  for  a  while ; 

Ere  twice  round  yon  Glory  this  planet  shall  run. 
The  hand  of  thy  Master  will  teach  thee  to  smile, 

When  Infancy's  years  of  probation  are  done. 

of  decay,  though  perhaps  not  irrecoverable."  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,  "  Here  is  a  fine  young  oak  ;  but  it  must 
be  cut  down,  as  it  grows  in  an  improper  place." — •"  I  hope  not, 
sir,"  replied  the  man,  "  for  it's  the  one  that  my  lord  was  so 
fond  of,  because  he  set  it  himself." — Life^  p.  50,  note.] 

VOL.  I,  S 


258  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

6. 

Oh,  live  then,  my  Oak  !  tow'r  aloft  from  the  weeds, 
That  clog  thy  young  growth,  and  assist  thy  decay, 

For  still  in  thy  bosom  are  Life's  early  seeds. 
And  still  may  thy  branches  their  beauty  display. 

7. 
Oh  !  yet,  if  Maturity's  years  may  be  thine, 

Though  /  shall  lie  low  in  the  cavern  of  Death, 
On  thy  leaves  yet  the  day-beam  of  ages  may  shine,*- 

Uninjured  by  Time,  or  the  rude  Winter's  breath. 

8. 
For  centuries  still  may  thy  boughs  lightly  wave 

O'er  the  corse  of  thy  Lord  in  thy  canopy  laid ; 
While  the  branches  thus  gratefully  shelter  his  grave, 

The  Chief  who  survives  may  recline  in  thy  shade. 

9« 
And  as  he,  with  his  boys,  shall  revisit  this  spot. 

He  will  tell  them  in  whispers  more  softly  to  tread. 
Oh !  surely,  by  these  I  shall  ne'er  be  forgot ; 

Remembrance  still  hallows  the  dust  of  the  dead. 

10. 
And  here,  will  they  say,  when  in  Life's  glowing  prime, 

Perhaps  he  has  pour'd  forth  his  young  simple  lay. 
And  here  must  he  sleep,  till  the  moments  of  Time 

Are  lost  in  the  hours  of  Eternity's  day. 

1807.     [First  published  1832.] 
["Copied  for  Mr.  Moore,  Jan.  24,  1828." — Note  by  Miss  Pigot.] 

i.  For  ages  may  shine. — [MS,  Newstead.\ 


ON    REVISITING   HARROW.  259 

ON   REVISITING   HARROW.^ 

I. 

Here  once  engaged  the  stranger's  view 
Young  Friendship's  record  simply  trac'd ; 

Few  were  her  words, — but  yet,  though  few, 
Resentment's  hand  the  Hne  defac'd. 

2. 

Deeply  she  cut — but  not  eras'd — 

The  characters  were  still  so  plain, 
That  Friendship  once  return'd,  and  gaz'd,  — 

Till  Memory  hail'd  the  words  again. 

3- 

Repentance  plac'd  them  as  before  ; 

Forgiveness  join'd  her  gentle  name ; 
So  fair  the  inscription  seem'd  once  more, 

That  Friendship  thought  it  still  the  same. 

4- 

Thus  might  the  Record  now  have  been ; 

But,  ah,  in  spite  of  Hope's  endeavour, 
Or  Friendship's  tears,  Pride  rush'd  between, 

And  blotted  out  the  line  for  ever. 

September y  1807.     [First  published  in  Moore's  Life  and 

Letters y  etc.,  1830,  i.  102.] 

I.  ["  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." — Moore's  Life^  etc.^ 
i.  102.] 


26o  HOURS  OF   IDLENESS. 


TO   MY   SON.i 

I. 

Those  flaxen  locks,  those  eyes  of  blue 
Bright  as  thy  mother's  in  their  hue ; 
Those  rosy  Hps,  whose  dimples  play 
And  smile  to  steal  the  heart  away, 
Recall  a  scene  of  former  joy, 
And  touch  thy  father's  heart,  my  Boy  ! 


And  thou  canst  Hsp  a  father's  name — 
Ah,  William,  were  thine  own  the  same, — 
No  self-reproach — but,  let  me  cease — 
My  care  for  thee  shall  purchase  peace ; 
Thy  mother's  shade  shall  smile  in  joy, 
And  pardon  all  the  past,  my  Boy ! 

3. 

Her  lowly  grave  the  turf  has  prest, 

And  thou  hast  known  a  stranger's  breast; 

Derision  sneers  upon  thy  birth. 

And  yields  thee  scarce  a  name  on  earth ; 

Yet  shall  not  these  one  hope  destroy, — 

A  Father's  heart  is  thine,  my  Boy ! 

I.  [For  a  reminiscence  of  what  was,  possibly,  an  actual 
event,  see  Doji  yua?t,  canto  xvi.  st.  61.  He  told  Lady 
Byron  that  he  had  two  natural  children,  whom  he  should 
provide  for.] 


TO   MY   SON.  261 

Wliy,  let  the  world  unfeeling  frown, 
Must  I  fond  Nature's  claims  disown  ? 
Ah,  no — though  moralists  reprove, 
I  hail  thee,  dearest  child  of  Love, 
Fair  cherub,  pledge  of  youth  and  joy — 
A  Father  guards  thy  birth,  my  Boy  ! 

5- 
Oh,  'twill  be  sweet  in  thee  to  trace. 
Ere  Age  has  wrinkled  o'er  my  face, 
Ere  half  my  glass  of  life  is  run, 
At  once  a  brother  and  a  son ; 
And  all  my  wane  of  years  employ 
In  justice  done  to  thee,  my  Boy  1 

6. 

Although  so  young  thy  heedless  sire, 
Youth  will  not  damp  parental  fire ; 
And,  wert  thou  still  less  dear  to  me. 
While  Helen's  form  revives  in  thee. 
The  breast,  which  beat  to  former  joy, 
Will  ne'er  desert  its  pledge,  my  Boy ! 

1S07.     [First  published  in  Moore's  Life  and  Letters,  efc.j 

1830,  i.  104.] 


262  HOURS  OF   IDLENESS. 

QUERIES  TO   CASUISTS.! 

The  Moralists  tell  us  that  Loving  is  Sinning, 
And  always  are  prating  about  and  about  it, 

But  as  Love  of  Existence  itself  s  the  beginning, 
Say,  what  would  Existence  itself  be  without  it  ? 

They  argue  the  point  with  much  furious  Invective, 
Though  perhaps  'twere  no  difficult  task  to  confute  it ; 

But  if  Venus  and  Hymen  should  once  prove  defective, 
Pray  who  would  there  be  to  defend  or  dispute  it  ? 

Byron. 


SONG.' 

I. 
Breeze  of  the  night  in  gentler  sighs 

More  softly  murmur  o'er  the  billow ; 
For  Slumber  seals  my  Fanny's  eyes, 

And  Peace  must  never  shun  her  pillow. 

2. 

Or  breathe  those  sweet  ^olian  strains 
Stolen  from  celestial  spheres  above. 

To  charm  her  ear  while  some  remains, 
And  soothe  her  soul  to  dreams  of  love. 

1.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  (watermark  1805)  at  Newstead, 
now  for  the  first  time  printed.] 

2.  [From  the  MS.  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Murray.] 


TO    HARRIET.  263 

3- 
But  Breeze  of  night  again  forbear, 

In  softest  murmurs  only  sigh  ; 
Let  not  a  Zephyr's  pinion  dare 

To  lift  those  auburn  locks  on  high. 

4. 
Chill  is  thy  Breath,  thou  breeze  of  night ! 

Oh  !  ruffle  not  those  lids  of  Snow ; 
For  only  Morning's  cheering  light 

May  wake  the  beam  that  lurks  below. 

5. 

Blest  be  that  lip  and  azure  eye  ! 

Sweet  Fanny,  hallowed  be  thy  Sleep ! 
Those  lips  shall  never  vent  a  sigh, 

Those  eyes  may  never  wake  to  weep. 

February  lyd^  1808. 


TO   HARRIET.  1 
I. 

Harriet  !  to  see  such  Circumspection,* 
In  Ladies  I  have  no  objection 
Concerning  what  they  read ; 

1.  [From  an  autograph  MS.  at  Newstead,  now  for  the  first 
time  printed.] 

2.  [See  the  poem  "  To  Marion,"  and  fiote^  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  "To  Marion."    The  following  note  was 


264  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

An  ancient  Maid's  a  sage  adviser, 
Like  hei\  you  will  be  much  the  wiser, 
In  word,  as  well  as  Deed. 

2. 

But  Harriet,  I  don't  wish  to  flatter, 

And  really  think  *t  would  make  the  matter 

More  perfect  if  not  quite, 
If  other  Ladies  when  they  preach, 
Would  certain  Damsels  also  teach 

More  cautiously  to  write. 

THERE  WAS   A  TIME,   I  NEED   NOT  NAME.'i 

I. 

There  was  a  time,  I  need  not  name, 

Since  it  will  ne'er  forgotten  be. 
When  all  our  feelings  were  the  same 

As  still  my  soul  hath  been  to  thee. 

i.  Stanzas  to  the  Same. — [Imii.  and  Transl.,  p.  200.] 

attached  by  Miss  Pigot  to  these  stanzas,  which  must  have 
been  written  on  another  occasion  : — *'  I  saw  Lord  B.  was 
flattered  by  John  Becher's  lines,  as  he  read  Apollo^  etc., 
with  a  peculiar  smile  and  emphasis  ;  so  out  of  fjm,  to 
vex  him  a  little,  I  said,  ^  Apollo  J  He  should  have  said 
Apollyon^  '  Elizabeth !  for  Heaven's  sake  don't  say  so 
again  !  I  don't  mind  you  telling  me  so  ;  but  if  any  one  else 
got  hold  0/  the  word^  I  should  never  hear  the  end  of  it.'  So 
I  laughed  at  him,  and  dropt  it,  for  he  was  redwiXh.  agitation."] 
I.  [This  copy  of  verses,  with  eight  others,  originally 
appeared  in  a  volume  published  in  1809  by  J.  C.  Hobhouse, 
under  the  title  of  Imitations  and  Translations,  From  the 
A7icient  and  Modern  Classics,  Together  with  Original  Poems 
never  before  published.  The  MS.  is  in  the  possession  of  the 
Earl  of  Lovelace.] 


THERE   WAS   A   TIME,    I    NEED   NOT   NAME.  265 

2. 

And  from  that  hour  when  first  thy  tongue 
Confess'd  a  love  which  equall'd  mine, 

Though  many  a  grief  my  heart  hath  wrung, 
Unknown,  and  thus  unfelt,  by  thine, 

3. 

None,  none  hath  sunk  so  deep  as  this — 
To  think  how  all  that  love  hath  flown ; 

Transient  as  every  faithless  kiss. 
But  transient  in  thy  breast  alone. 

4. 

And  yet  my  heart  some  solace  knew. 
When  late  I  heard  thy  lips  declare, 

In  accents  once  imagined  true. 

Remembrance  of  the  days  that  were. 

5. 
Yes  !  my  adored,  yet  most  unkind  I 

Though  thou  wilt  never  love  again. 
To  me  'tis  doubly  sweet  to  find 

Remembrance  of  that  love  remain.'- 

6. 

Yes  !  'tis  a  glorious  thought  to  me. 

Nor  longer  shall  my  soul  repine, 
Whate'er  thou  art  or  e'er  shalt  be. 

Thou  hast  been  dearly,  solely  mine. 

June  10,  1808.     [First  published,  1809.] 

i.   The  memory  of  that  love  again. — \_MS.  L.] 


366  HOURS   OF   IDLENESS. 


AND  WILT  THOU  WEEP  WHEN  I  AM  LOW? 

z. 

And  wilt  thou  weep  when  I  am  low  ? 

Sweet  lady  !  speak  those  words  again : 
Yet  if  they  grieve  thee,  say  not  so — 

I  would  not  give  that  bosom  pain. 


My  heart  is  sad,  my  hopes  are  gone, 

My  blood  runs  coldly  through  my  breast ; 

And  when  I  perish,  thou  alone 
Wilt  sigh  above  my  place  of  rest. 


And  yet,  methinks,  a  gleam  of  peace 

Doth  through  my  cloud  of  anguish  shine : 

And  for  a  while  my  sorrows  cease, 
To  know  thy  heart  hath  felt  for  mine. 

4. 

Oh  lady !  blessbd  be  that  tear — 
It  falls  for  one  who  cannot  weep  j 


i.  Stanzas.— [MS.  L.] 

To  the  Same.— {Imit,  and  Transit  p.  202.] 


AND   WILT   THOU   WEEP   WHEN    I    AM    LOW?         267 

Such  precious  drops  are  doubly  dear  *• 
To  those  whose  eyes  no  tear  may  steep. 

5- 
Sweet  lady  !  once  my  heart  was  warm 

With  every  feeling  soft  as  thine  ; 
Bu^  Beauty's  self  hath  ceased  to  charm 

A  wretch  created  to  repine. 

Yet  wilt  thou  weep  when  I  am  low  ? 

Sweet  lady  !  speak  those  words  again : 
Yet  if  they  grieve  thee,  say  not  so — 

I  would  not  give  that  bosom  pain.^ 

Au^.  12,  1808.     [First  published,  1809.] 


i.  For  one  whose  life  is  torment  here. 

And  only  in  the  dust  may  sleep. — [MS.  L.] 
ii.  The  MS.  inserts — 

Lady  I  will  not  tell  my  tale 

For  it  would  rend  thy  melting  heart ; 
^Tw ere  pity  sorrow  should  prevail 

O'er  one  so  gentle  as  thou  art. — {MS.  Z.] 

I.  [It  was  in  one  of  Byron's  fits  of  melancholy  that  the 
following  verses  were  addressed  to  him  by  his  friend  John 
Cam  Hobhouse  : — 

EPISTLE  TO   A  YOUNG  NOBLEMAN    IN   LOVE. 

Hail  !  generous  youth,  whom  glory's  sacred  flame 
Inspires,  and  animates  to  deeds  of  fame  j 
Who  feel  the  noble  wish  before  you  die 
To  raise  the  finger  of  each  passer-by  : 
Hail !  may  a  future  age  admiring  view 
A  Falkland  or  a  Clarendon  in  you. 


268  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


REMIND  ME  NOT,  REMIND  ME  NOT/ 


Remind  me  not,  remind  me  not, 

Of  those  beloved,  those  vanish'd  hours, 
When  all  my  soul  was  given  to  thee ; 
Hours  that  may  never  be  forgot. 
Till  Time  unnerves  our  vital  powers, 
And  thou  and  I  shall  cease  to  be. 

i.  A  Love  Song,     To . — {Iniit.  and  Transl.y  p.  197.] 

But  as  your  blood  with  dangerous  passion  boils, 
Beware  !  and  fly  from  Venus'  silken  toils  : 
Ah  !  let  the  head  protect  the  weaker  heart, 
And  Wisdom's  ^gis  turn  on  Beauty's  dart. 

*  *  *  *  ^ 

But  if  'tis  fix'd  that  ever>'  lord  must  pair, 
And  you  and  Newstead  must  not  want  an  heir, 
Lose  not  your  pains,  and  scour  the  country  round, 
To  find  a  treasure  that  can  ne'er  be  found  ! 
No  !  take  the  first  the  town  or  court  affords, 
Trick'd  out  to  stock  a  market  for  the  lords  ; 
By  chance  perhaps  your  luckier  choice  may  fall 
On  one,  though  wicked,  not  the  worst  of  all  : 


One  though  perhaps  as  any  Maxwell  free, 

Yet  scarce  a  copy,  Claribel,  of  thee  ; 

Not  very  ugly,  and  not  \Qry  old, 

A  little  pert  indeed,  but  not  a  scold  ; 

One  that,  in  short,  may  help  to  lead  a  life 

Not  farther  much  from  comfort  than  from  strife  ; 

And  when  she  dies,  and  disappoints  your  fears, 

Shall  leave  some  joys  for  your  declining  years. 

But,  as  your  early  youth  some  time  allows, 
Nor  custom  yet  demands  you  for  a  spouse, 


REMIND   ME   NOT,    REMIND   ME   NOT.  269 

2. 

Can  I  forget — canst  thou  forget, 
When  playing  with  thy  golden  hair, 

How  quick  thy  fluttering  heart  did  move  ? 

Some  hours  of  freedom  may  remain  as  yet, 

For  one  who  laughs  alike  at  love  and  debt  : 

Then,  why  in  haste  ?  put  off  the  evil  day, 

And  snatch  at  youthful  comforts  while  you  may 

Pause  !  nor  so  soon  the  various  bliss  forego 

That  single  souls,  and  such  alone,  can  know  : 

Ah  !  why  too  early  careless  life  resign, 

Your  morning  slumber,  and  your  evening  wine  ; 

Your  loved  companion,  and  his  easy  talk  ; 

Your  Muse,  invoked  in  every  peaceful  walk  ? 

What  !  can  no  more  your  scenes  paternal  please. 

Scenes  sacred  long  to  wise,  unmated  ease  ? 

The  prospect  lengthen'd  o'er  the  distant  down, 

Lakes,  meadows,  rising  woods,  and  all  your  own  ? 

What !  shall  your  Newstead,  shall  your  cloister'd  bowers, 

The  high  o'erhanging  arch  and  trembling  towers  ! 

Shall  these,  profaned  with  folly  or  with  strife, 

An  ever  fond,  or  ever  angry  wife  ! 

Shall  these  no  more  confess  a  manly  sway. 

But  changeful  woman's  changing  whims  obey  ? 

Who  may,  perhaps,  as  varjdng  humour  calls. 

Contract  your  cloisters  and  o'erthrow  your  walls  ; 

Let  Repton  loose  o'er  all  the  ancient  ground. 

Change  round  to  square,  and  square  convert  to  round  ; 

Root  up  the  elms'  and  yews'  too  solemn  gloom. 

And  fill  with  shrubberies  gay  and  green  their  room  ; 

Roll  down  the  terrace  to  a  gay  parterre. 

Where  gravel'd  walks  and  flowers  alternate  glare ; 

And  quite  transform,  in  eveiy  point  complete, 

Your  Gothic  abbey  to  a  country-  seat. 

Forget  the  fair  one,  and  your  fate  delay  ; 
If  not  avert,  at  least  defer  the  day. 
When  you  beneath  the  female  yoke  shall  bend. 
And  lose  your  w//,  your  temper^  and  youv  fnend* 

Trin.  Coll.  Camb.,  1808.] 

*  [In  his  mother's  copy  of  Hobhouse's  volume,  Byron  has 
written  with  a  pencil,  "/  have  lost  them 
accordingly.     1 8 11 .     B . "] 


270  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

Oh  !  by  my  soul,  I  see  thee  yet, 
With  eyes  so  languid,  breast  so  fair. 
And  lips,  though  silent,  breathing  love. 

3. 

When  thus  reclining  on  my  breast, 

Those  eyes  threw  back  a  glance  so  sweet, 
As  half  reproach'd  yet  rais'd  desire, 
And  still  we  near  and  nearer  prest, 
And  still  our  glowing  lips  would  meet, 
As  if  in  kisses  to  expire. 


And  then  those  pensive  eyes  would  close. 
And  bid  their  lids  each  other  seek, 
Veiling  the  azure  orbs  below  ; 
While  their  long  lashes'  darken'd  gloss 
Seem'd  stealing  o'er  thy  brilliant  cheek. 
Like  raven's  plumage  smooth'd  on  snow. 

5. 

I  dreamt  last  night  our  love  return'd. 
And,  sooth  to  say,  that  very  dream 
Was  sweeter  in  its  phantasy. 
Than  if  for  other  hearts  I  burn'd. 

For  eyes  that  ne'er  like  thine  could  beam 
In  Rapture's  wild  reality. 


TO   A   YOUTHFUL   FRIEND.  27  I 

6. 

Then  tell  me  not,  remind  me  not,' 
Of  hours  which,  though  for  ever  gone, 
Can  still  a  pleasing  dream  restore,''* 
Till  thou  and  I  shall  be  forgot, 

And  senseless,  as  the  mouldering  stone 
Which  tells  that  we  shall  be  no  more. 

Aug,  13,  1808.     [First  published,  1809.] 


TO  A  YOUTHFUL  FRIEND."'- 

I. 

Few  years  have  pass'd  since  thou  and  I 
Were  firmest  friends,  at  least  in  name, 

And  Childhood's  gay  sincerity 

Preserved  our  feelings  long  the  same.'"'- 


i.  Remind  me  not^  remind  me  not. — \_MS.  L.\ 
ii.  Must  still.— IMS.  L.] 
iii.   To  Sir  W.  D.,  on  his  using  the  expression^  ^^  Soyez  constant  en 

amitie:'—{MS.  L.] 
iv.  ^Twere  well  my  friend  if  still  with  thee 
Through  every  scene  of  joy  and  woe^ 
That  thought  could  ever  cherished  be 
As  warm  as  it  was  wont  to  glow.— [MS.  L.\ 


272  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

But  now,  like  me,  too  well  thou  know'st' 
What  trifles  oft  the  heart  recall ; 

And  those  who  once  have  loved  the  most 
Too  soon  forget  they  lov'd  at  all.''- 

3- 

And  such  the  change  the  heart  displays, 
So  frail  is  early  friendship's  reign,"*- 

A  month's  brief  lapse,  perhaps  a  day's. 
Will  view  thy  mind  estrang'd  again."'* 

4. 
If  so,  it  never  shall  be  mine 

To  mourn  the  loss  of  such  a  heart ; 
The  fault  was  Nature's  fault,  not  thine. 

Which  made  thee  fickle  as  thou  art. 

5- 
As  rolls  the  Ocean's  changing  tide, 

So  human  feelings  ebb  and  flow ; 
And  who  would  in  a  breast  confide 

Where  stormy  passions  ever  glow  ? 

i.  And  yet  like  me.— [MS.  £.] 

ii.  Forget  they  ever. — \_MS.  L,     Iniit.  and  Trans!.,  p.  185.] 
iii.  So  short.— [MS.  Z.] 
iv.  .  .  .  a  day 

IVill  send  my  friendship  back  again. — [MS.  Z.J 


TO   A   YOUTHFUL    FRIEND.  273 

6. 
It  boots  not  that,  together  bred, 

Our  childish  days  were  days  of  joy : 
My  spring  of  life  has  quickly  fled ; 

Thou,  too,  hast  ceas'd  to  be  a  boy. 

7- 
And  when  we  bid  adieu  to  youth. 

Slaves  to  the  specious  World's  controul, 
We  sigh  a  long  farewell  to  truth  ; 

That  World  corrupts  the  noblest  soul. 

8. 
Ah,  joyous  season  !  when  the  mind'- 

Dares  all  things  boldly  but  to  He ; 
When  Thought  ere  spoke  is  unconfin'd, 

And  sparkles  in  the  placid  eye. 

9- 

Not  so  in  Man's  maturer  years, 
When  Man  himself  is  but  a  tool ; 

When  Interest  sways  our  hopes  and  fears, 
And  all  must  love  and  hate  by  rule. 

lO. 

With  fools  in  kindred  vice  the  same,*- 
We  learn  at  length  our  faults  to  blend ; 

And  those,  and  those  alone,  may  claim 

The  prostituted  name  of  friend. 

i.  Each  fool  whose  vices  are  the  same 

Whose  faults  with  ours  may  blend.— ^M^i.  /-.J 

I.  [Stanzas  8-9  are  not  in  the  MS.] 

T 
VOL.  I. 


274  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

II. 

Such  is  the  common  lot  of  man : 
Can  we  then  'scape  from  folly  free  ? 

Can  we  reverse  the  general  plan, 
Nor  be  what  all  in  turn  must  be  ? 

12. 

No ;  for  myself,  so  dark  my  fate 

Through  every  turn  of  life  hath  been  ; 

Man  and  the  World  so  much  I  hate, 
I  care  not  when  I  quit  the  scene. 

13. 

But  thou,  with  spirit  frail  and  light, 
Wilt  shine  awhile,  and  pass  away ; 

As  glow-worms  sparkle  through  the  night, 
But  dare  not  stand  the  test  of  day. 

14. 

Alas  !  whenever  Folly  calls 

Where  parasites  and  princes  meet, 

(For  cherish'd  first  in  royal  halls 
The  welcome  vices  kindly  greet,) 

15. 

Ev'n  now  thou'rt  nightly  seen  to  add 
One  insect  to  the  fluttering  crowd ; 

And  still  thy  trifling  heart  is  glad 

To  join  the  vain  and  court  the  proud. 


TO   A   YOUTHFUL    FRIEND.  275 

16. 

There  dost  thou  glide  from  fair  to  fair, 
Still  simpering  on  with  eager  haste, 

As  flies  along  the  gay  parterre, 

That  taint  the  flowers  they  scarcely  taste. 

17. 

But  say,  what  nymph  will  prize  the  flame 
Which  seems,  as  marshy  vapours  move, 

To  flit  along  from  dame  to  dame, 
An  ignis-fatuus  gleam  of  love  ? 

18. 

What  friend  for  thee,  howe'er  inclin'd 

Will  deign  to  own  a  kindred  care  ? 
Who  will  debase  his  manly  mind, 

For  friendship  every  fool  may  share  ? 

19. 

In  time  forbear ;  amidst  the  throng 

No  more  so  base  a  thing  be  seen ; 
No  more  so  idly  pass  along ; 

Be  something,  any  thing,  but — mean. 

August  20th,  1808.     [First  published,  1809.I 


276  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 


LINES   INSCRIBED   UPON   A   CUP   FORMED 
FROM   A   SKULL.i 


Start  not — nor  deem  my  spirit  fled 
In  me  behold  the  only  skull, 

From  which,  unlike  a  living  head, 
Whatever  flows  is  never  dull. 


I  lived,  I  loved,  I  quaff  d,  like  thee : 
I  died  :  let  earth  my  bones  resign ; 

Fill  up — thou  canst  not  injure  me ; 
The  worm  hath  fouler  lips  than  thine. 

3- 

Better  to  hold  the  sparkling  grape, 

Than  nurse  the  earth-worm's  slimy  brood ; 

And  circle  in  the  goblet's  shape 

The  drink  of  Gods,  than  reptile's  food. 

I.  [Byron  gave  Medwin  the  following  account  of  this  cup  : 
— "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  drink- 
ing cup.  I  accordingly  sent  it  to  town,  and  it  returned 
with  a  very  high  pohsh,  and  of  a  mottled  colour  like  tor- 
toiseshell." — Medwin's  Conversations^  1824,  p.  Z'jP\^ 


{^/uu/tyt/Ay. 


WELL!  THOU  ART  HAPPY.  277 

4- 

Where  once  my  wit,  perchance,  hath  shone, 

In  aid  of  others'  let  me  shine ; 
And  when,  alas  !  our  brains  are  gone, 

What  nobler  substitute  than  wine  ? 

5- 
Quaif  while  thou  canst :  another  race, 

When  thou  and  thine,  like  me,  are  sped, 
May  rescue  thee  from  earth's  embrace, 

And  rhyme  and  revel  with  the  dead. 

6. 
Why  not  ?  since  through  life's  little  day 

Our  heads  such  sad  effects  produce ; 
Redeem'd  from  worms  and  wasting  clay, 

This  chance  is  theirs,  to  be  of  use. 

Newstead  Abbey,  1808.     [First  published  in  the 

seventh  edition  of  Childe  Harold.^ 


WELL!   THOU   ART   HAPPY.^  i 

I. 

Well  !  thou  art  happy,  and  I  feel 
That  I  should  thus  be  happy  too ; 

i.   To  Mrs. [erased].— [yJA?.  Z.] 

To . — \Imit.  and  Transl.     Hobhouse,  1809,] 

I.  [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.] 


278  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

For  Still  my  heart  regards  thy  weal 
Warmly,  as  it  was  wont  to  do. 

2. 
Thy  husband's  blest — and  'twill  impart 

Some  pangs  to  view  his  happier  lot :  ^ 
But  let  them  pass — Oh  !  how  my  heart 

Would  hate  him  if  he  loved  thee  not  1 

3. 
When  late  I  saw  thy  favourite  child, 

I  thought  my  jealous  heart  would  break; 
But  when  the  unconscious  infant  smil'd, 

I  kiss'd  it  for  its  mother's  sake. 

4- 
I  kiss'd  it, — and  repress'd  my  sighs 

Its  father  in  its  face  to  see  ; 
But  then  it  had  its  mother's  eyes, 

And  they  were  all  to  love  and  me. 

5."- 
Mary,  adieu  !  I  must  away : 

While  thou  art  blest  I'll  not  repine ; 
But  near  thee  I  can  never  stay ; 

My  heart  would  soon  again  be  thine. 

i.  Some  pang  to  see  my  rivaVs  lot. — \MS.  L.\ 
ii.  MS.  L.  inserts — 

Poor  little  pledge  of  mutual  love^ 
I  xvould  not  hurt  a  hair  of  thee. 

Although  thy  birth  should  chance  to  prove 
Thy  parents'  bliss — my  misery. 


well!  thou  art  happy.  279 

6. 

I  deem'd  that  Time,  I  deem'd  that  Pride, 
Had  quench'd  at  length  my  boyish  flame ; 

Nor  knew,  till  seated  by  thy  side, 

My  heart  in  all, — save  hope, — the  same. 

7. 

Yet  was  I  calm  :  I  knew  the  time 

My  breast  would  thrill  before  thy  look  ; 

But  now  to  tremble  were  a  crime — 
We  met, — and  not  a  nerve  was  shook. 

8. 

I  saw  thee  gaze  upon  my  face, 

Yet  meet  with  no  confusion  there  : 
One  only  feeling  couldst  thou  trace ; 

The  sullen  calmness  of  despair. 

9. 

Away  !  away  !  my  early  dream 

Remembrance  never  must  awake  : 
Oh  !  where  is  Lethe's  fabled  stream  ? 

My  foolish  heart  be  still,  or  break. 

November  2,  1808.     [First  published,  1809.] 


28o  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


INSCRIPTION    ON   THE   MONUMENT   OF  A 
NEWFOUNDLAND    DOG.^ 

When  some  proud  son  of  man  returns  to  earth, 
Unknown  to  glory,  but  upheld  by  birth, 
The  sculptor's  art  exhausts  the  pomp  of  woe 
And  storied  urns  record  who  rest  below  : 
When  all  is  done,  upon  the  tomb  is  seen. 
Not  what  he  was,  but  what  he  should  have  been : 

I.  [This  monument  is  placed  in  the  garden  of  Newstead. 
A  prose  inscription  precedes  the  verses  : — 

"  Near  this  spot 

Are  deposited  the  Remains  of  one 

Who  possessed  Beauty  without  Vanity, 

Strength  without  Insolence, 

Courage  without  Ferocity, 

And  aH  the  Virtues  of  Man  without  his  Vices. 

This  Praise,  which  would  be  unmeaning  Flattery 

If  inscribed  over  human  ashes, 

Is  but  a  just  tribute  to  the  Memory  of 

BOATSWAIN,  a  Dog, 

Who  was  born  at  Newfoundland,  May,  1803, 

And  died  at  Newstead  Abbey,  Nov.  18,  1808." 

B>Ton  thus  announced  the  death  of  his  favourite  to  his 
friend  Hodgson  : — "Boatswain  is  dead ! — he  expired  in  a  state 
of  madness  on  the  1 8th  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."  In  the  will  which  the 
poet  executed  in  181 1,  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, 
"  Well,  old  boy,  you  will  take  your  place  here  some  twenty 
years  hence."  "  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." — 
Life,  pp.  73,  131-] 


INSCRIPTION   ON    THE   MONUMENT   OF   A   DOG.       28 1 

But  the  poor  dog,  in  life  the  firmest  friend, 

The  first  to  welcome,  foremost  to  defend, 

Whose  honest  heart  is  still  his  master's  own, 

Who  labours,  fights,  lives,  breathes  for  him  alone, 

Unhonour'd  falls,  unnoticed  all  his  worth — 

Denied  in  heaven  the  soul  he  held  on  earth : 

While  Man,  vain  insect !  hopes  to  be  forgiven, 

And  claims  himself  a  sole  exclusive  Heaven. 

Oh  Man  !  thou  feeble  tenant  of  an  hour, 

Debased  by  slavery,  or  corrupt  by  power, 

Who  knows  thee  well  must  quit  thee  with  disgust, 

Degraded  mass  of  animated  dust ! 

Thy  love  is  lust,  thy  friendship  all  a  cheat, 

Thy  smiles  hypocrisy,  thy  words  deceit ! 

By  nature  vile,  ennobled  but  by  name. 

Each  kindred  brute  might  bid  thee  blush  for  shame. 

Ye  !  who  perchance  behold  this  simple  urn. 

Pass  on — it  honours  none  you  wish  to  mourn : 

To  mark  a  Friend's  remains  these  stones  arise; 

I  never  knew  but  one, — and  here  he  lies.'- 

Newstead  Abbey,  October  30,  1808,     [First  published,  1809.] 

i.  I  knew  bnt  one  nnchajig^d — and  here  he  lies. — 

\_Imit.  and  Transl.^  p.  1 91,] 


282  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 


TO   A   LADY,^ 

ON    BEING   ASKED    MY   REASON     FOR    QUITTING    ENGLAND 
IN   THE   SPRING.^ 


When  Man,  expell'd  from  Eden's  bowers, 

A  moment  linger'd  near  the  gate, 
Each  scene  recall'd  the  vanish'd  hours, 

And  bade  him  curse  his  future  fate. 

2. 

But,  wandering  on  through  distant  climes, 
He  learnt  to  bear  his  load  of  grief; 

Just  gave  a  sigh  to  other  times, 
And  found  in  busier  scenes  relief. 

3- 

Thus,  Lady  !  will  it  be  with  me,'^ 

And  I  must  view  thy  charms  no  more ; 

For,  while  I  linger  near  to  thee, 
I  sigh  for  all  I  knew  before. 

i.   The  Farewell  To  a  Lady. — \Imit.  and  Trausl.'\ 
ii.   Thus  Mary!  (Mrs.  Musters).— [J/^*.] 

I.  [Byron  had  written  to  his  mother  on  November  2,  i8o8, 
announcing  his  intention  of  sailing  for  India  in  the  follow- 
ing March.  See  Childe  Harold,  canto  i.  St.  3.  See  also 
Letter  to  Hodgson,  Nov.  27,  1808.] 


FILL   THE   GOBLET   AGAIN.  283 

4. 

In  flight  I  shall  be  surely  wise, 
Escaping  from  temptation's  snare ; 

I  cannot  view  my  Paradise 

Without  the  wish  of  dwelling  there.'-  * 

December  2,  1808.     [First  i:)ublishecl,  1809.] 


FILL  THE   GOBLET  AGAIN."- 

A   SONG. 
I. 

Fill  the  goblet  again  !  for  I  never  before 

Felt  the  glow  which  now  gladdens  my  heart  to  its  core ; 

Let  us  drink  ! — who  would   not  ? — since,  through  life's 

varied  round, 
In  the  goblet  alone  no  deception  is  found. 

i.    Without  a  wish  to  enter  there. — \Imit.  and  Transl.,-^.  196.] 
ii.  Song. — {Ifnit.  and  Transl.y  p.  204.] 

I.  [In  a  letter  of  Byron  to  J.  J.  Coulmann,  dated  within 
a  few  days  of  his  final  departure  from  Italy  to  Greece,  in 
1823,  he  writes  :  "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,  et 
celafera  un  delate — Letters^  i9oi>  vi.  233,  234.] 


284  HOURS  OF   IDLENESS. 

2. 

I  have  tried  in  its  turn  all  that  life  can  supply ; 

I  have  bask'd  in  the  beam  of  a  dark  rolling  eye  ; 

I    have   lov'd  ! — who  has    not  ? — but   what    heart   can 

declare 
That  Pleasurp  existed  while  Passion  was  there  ? 

3- 

In  the  days  of  my  youth,  when  the  heart's  in  its  spring, 

And  dreams  that  Affection  can  never  take  wing, 

I  had  friends  ! — who  has   not  ? — but  what  tongue  will 

avow, 
That  friends,  rosy  wine  !  are  so  faithful  as  thou  ? 

4. 

The  heart  of  a  mistress  some  boy  may  estrange, 
Friendship  shifts  with  the   sunbeam — thou  never  canst 

change ; 
Thou  grow' St  old — who  does  not? — but  on  earth  what 

appears. 
Whose  virtues,  like  thine,  still  increase  with  its  years  ? 

5- 
Yet  if  blest  to  the  utmost  that  Love  can  bestow, 
Should  a  rival  bow  down  to  our  idol  below, 
We  are  jealous  ! — who's  not  ? — thou  hast  no  such  alloy ; 
For  the  more  that  enjoy  thee,  the  more  we  enjoy. 


STANZAS    TO    A    LADY,    ON    LEAVING    ENGLAND.       285 
6 

Then  the  season  of  youth  and  its  vanities  past, 
For  refuge  we  fly  to  the  goblet  at  last ; 
There  we  find — do  we  not  ? — in  the  flow  of  the  soul, 
That  truth,  as  of  yore,  is  confined  to  the  bowl. 

7. 
When  the  box  of  Pandora  was  open'd  on  earth, 
And  Misery's  triumph  commenc'd  over  Mirth, 
Hope  was  left, — was  she  not  ? — but  the  goblet  we  kiss, 
And  care  not  for  Hope,  who  are  certain  of  bliss. 

8. 

Long  life  to  the  grape  !  for  when  summer  is  flown. 
The  age  of  our  nectar  shall  gladden  our  own : 
We  must  die — who  shall  not  ? — May  our  sins  be  forgiven, 
And  Hebe  shall  never  be  idle  in  Heaven. 

[First  published,  1809.] 

STANZAS  TO  A  LADY,  ON  LEAVING  ENGLAND.' 

I. 
'Tis  done — and  shivering  in  the  gale 
The  bark  unfurls  her  snowy  sail ; 
And  whistling  o'er  the  bending  mast, 
Loud  sings  on  high  the  fresh'ning  blast ; 
And  I  must  from  this  land  be  gone, 
Because  I  cannot  love  but  one. 

i.   To  Mrs.  Musters.~[MS.] 

To on  Leaving  England. — \Imit.  and  TransL,  p.  227.] 


286  HOURS    OF    IDLENESS. 

2. 

But  could  I  be  what  I  have  been, 
And  could  I  see  what  I  have  seen — 
Could  I  repose  upon  the  breast 
Which  once  my  warmest  wishes  blest- 
I  should  not  seek  another  zone, 
Because  I  cannot  love  but  one. 

3. 

'Tis  long  since  I  beheld  that  eye 
Which  gave  me  bliss  or  misery ; 
And  I  have  striven,  but  in  vain, 
Never  to  think  of  it  again  : 
For  though  I  fly  from  Albion, 
I  still  can  only  love  but  one. 

4. 

As  some  lone  bird,  without  a  mate, 
My  weary  heart  is  desolate ; 
I  look  around,  and  cannot  trace 
One  friendly  smile  or  welcome  face. 
And  ev'n  in  crowds  am  still  alone, 
Because  I  cannot  love  but  one. 

5- 

And  I  will  cross  the  whitening  foam. 
And  I  will  seek  a  foreign  home ; 


STANZAS  TO  A  LADY,  ON  LEAVING  ENGLAND.   287 

Till  I  forget  a  false  fair  face, 
I  ne'er  shall  find  a  resting-place ; 
My  own  dark  thoughts  I  cannot  shun, 
But  ever  love,  and  love  but  one. 

6. 
The  poorest,  veriest  wretch  on  earth 
Still  finds  some  hospitable  hearth. 
Where  Friendship's  or  Love's  softer  glow 
May  smile  in  joy  or  soothe  in  woe ; 
But  friend  or  leman  I  have  none,'* 
Because  I  cannot  love  but  one. 

7. 

I  go — but  wheresoe'er  I  flee 
There's  not  an  eye  will  weep  for  me ; 
There's  not  a  kind  congenial  heart, 
Where  I  can  claim  the  meanest  part ; 
Nor  thou,  who  hast  my  hopes  undone. 
Wilt  sigh,  although  I  love  but  one. 

8. 
To  think  of  every  early  scene, 
Of  what  we  are,  and  what  we've  been, 
Would  whelm  some  softer  hearts  with  woe — 
But  mine,  alas  !  has  stood  the  blow ; 
Yet  still  beats  on  as  it  begun. 
And  never  truly  loves  but  one. 

i.  But  friend  or  lover  I  have  none. — [//////.  and  Trans!.  ^  p.  229.] 


288  HOURS   OF    IDLENESS. 

9- 

And  who  that  dear  lov'd  one  may  be, 
Is  not  for  vulgar  eyes  to  see ; 
And  why  that  early  love  was  cross'd, 
Thou  know'st  the  best,  I  feel  the  most ; 
But  few  that  dwell  beneath  the  sun 
Have  loved  so  long,  and  loved  but  one. 

10. 

I've  tried  another's  fetters  too, 
With  charms  perchance  as  fair  to  view ; 
And  I  would  fain  have  loved  as  well, 
But  some  unconquerable  spell 
Forbade  my  bleeding  breast  to  own 
A  kindred  care  for  aught  but  one. 

II. 
'Twould  soothe  to  take  one  lingering  view, 
And  bless  thee  in  my  last  adieu ; 
Yet  wish  I  not  those  eyes  to  weep 
For  him  that  wanders  o'er  the  deep ; 
His  home,  his  hope,  his  youth  are  gone,'' 
Yet  still  he  loves,  and  loves  but  one."- 

1809.     [First  published,  1809.] 

i.   Though  wheresoier  my  bark  may  run^ 

I  love  but  thee,  I  love  but  one. — [Ifnit.  and  Tratisl.f  p.  230.J 
The  land  recedes  his  Bark  is  gone. 
Yet  still  he  loves  and  loves  but  one. — \MS.\ 
ii.    Yet  Jar  aiuay  he  loves  hut  one. — \MS.\ 


ENGLISH    BARDS, 


AND 


SCOTCH    REVIEWERS; 

A    SAT/RE. 


BV 

LORD   BYRON, 


•*  I  had  rather  be  a  kitten,  and  cry,  mew  ! 
Than  one  of  these  same  metre  ballad-mongers.'* 

Shakkspeare. 

•'  Such  shameless  Bards  we  have  ;  and  yet  'tis  true, 
There  are  as  mad,  abandon'd  Critics,  too." 

Pope. 


VOL.    I, 


PREFACE.' 


All  viy  friends,  learned  and  unlearned,  have  urged  me  not 
to  publish  this  Satire  with  my  ?ia?ne.  If  J  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  personally,  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  j 
and  the  Authors  I  have  endeavotired  to  commemorate  may 
do  by  me  as  I  have  done  by  them.  I  dare  say  they  will  succeed 
better  in  condemning  my  scribblitigs,  than  in  me?tding  their 
own.  But  my  object  is  not  to  prove  that  I  can  write  well, 
but,  jf  possible,  to  make  others  write  better. 

As  the  Poem  has  7net  with  far  more  success  than  I 
expected,  I  have  endeavoured  in  this  Editioji  to  make  some 
additions  and  alterations,  to  render  it  more  worthy  of  public 
perusal. 

I.  [The  Preface,  as  it  is  here  printed,  was  prefixed  to  the 
Second,  Third,  and  Fourth  Editions  of  English  Bards,  and 
Scotch  Reviewers.  The  preface  to  the  First  Edition  began 
with  the  words,  "  With  regard  to  the  real  talents,"  etc.  (see 
overleaf,  line  ii).  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. 

In  an  annotated  copy  of  the  Fourth  Edition,  of  181 1, 
underneath  the  note,  "  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,"  Byron  wrote,  in  1816,  "He  is, 
and  gone  again." — MS.  Notes  from  this  volume,  which  is 
now  in  Mr.  Murray's  possession,  are  marked — B.,  1816.] 


292         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

In  the  First  Edition  of  this  Satire  ^published  anony7nously^ 
fom'teefi  lines  on  the  subject  of  Bowies'' s  Pope  were  written  by, 
and  inserted  at  the  request  of,  an  ingenious  friend  of  7nine^ 
who  has  now  in  the  press  a  volume  of  Poetry,  hi  the 
present  Editiofi  they  are  erased,  and  some  of  my  own  substi- 
tuted i7i  their  stead;  nty  07ily  reason  for  this  bei7ig  that  which 
I  conceive  would  operate  with  a7iy  other  perso7i  i7i  the  same 
7na7iner, — a  dete7-7ninatio7i  not  to  publish  with  7ny  7ia7ne  a7iy 
productio7i,  which  was  not  entirely  and  exclusively  ?ny  ow7i 
compositio7i. 

With  2  regard  to  the  real  talents  of  7na7iy  of  the  poetical 
Perso7is  whose  perfor77iances  are  mentio7ted  or  alluded  to  i7i 
the  following  pages,  it  is  pres7i7ned  by  the  Author  that  there 
can  be  little  differe7ice  of  opinio7i  in  the  Pjiblic  at  large; 
though,  like  other  sectaries,  each  has  his  separate  taber7iacle 
of  proselytes,  by  whom  his  abilities  are  over-7'ated,  his  faults 
overlooked,  a7id  his  77ietrical  ca7to7is  received  without  scruple 
afid  without  co7tsideration.  But  the  u7iquestio7iable  possessio7t 
of  co7isiderable  ge7iitis  by  several  of  the  writers  here  ce7tsured 
re7iders  their  7ne7ital  Prostitutio7i  77iore  to  be  reg7'etted.  I771- 
becility  7nay  be  pitied,  or,  at  worst,  laughed  at  and  forgotten ; 
perz>erted  powers  de7nand  the  7nost  decided  reprehensio7i.  No 
one  ca7i  wish  7nore  tha7t  the  Author  that  some  k7iow7i  a7id 
able  writer  had  U7tdertaken  their  exposure;  but  Mr.  Gifford 
has  devoted  hi77iself  to  Massi7iger,  a7id,  in  the  abse7ice  of  the 
regular  physician,  a  cou7ttry  practitio7ier  77iay,  /«  cases  of 
absolute  ftecessity,  be  allowed  to  prescribe  his  7iostru77i  to 
prevent  the  extensio7i  of  so  deplorable  a7i  epide7nic,  p7'0vided 
there  be  fio  quackery  in  his  treatme7it  of  the  7nalady.  A 
caustic  is  here  offered;  as  it  is  to  be  feared  7tothi7ig  short  of 
actual  cautery  can  recover  the  numerous  patie7its  afflicted 
with  the prese7it prevalent  a7id  distressing  rdih\es  for  rhy77ii7ig. 
— As  to  the  Edinburgh  Reviewers,  it  would  i7tdeed  require 
a7i  Hercules  to  crush  the  Hydra;  but  if  the  Author  succeeds 
i7i  7nerely  "  bruising  07ie  of  the  heads  of  the  serpent,^''  though 
his  0W71  hand  should  suffer  in  the  encounter ^  he  will  be  a77iply 
satisfied, 

1.  John  Cam  Hobhouse. 

2.  [Preface  to  the  First  Edition.] 


INTRODUCTION   TO   ENGLISH   BARDS,  AND 
SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 


The  article  upon  Hours  of  Idleness  "  which  Lord  Brougham 
.  .  .  after  denying  it  for  thirty  years,  confessed  that  he  had 
written"  {A^o/es  from  a  Diary,  by  Sir  M.  E.  Grant  Duff, 
1897,  ii.  189),  was  published  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  of 
January,  1808.  English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers  did 
not  appear  till  March,  1809,  The  article  gave  the  oppor- 
tunity for  the  publication  of  the  satire,  but  only  in  part 
provoked  its  composition.  Years  later,  Byron  had  not  for- 
gotten its  effect  on  his  mind.  On  April  26,  1821,  he 
wrote  to  Shelley  :  "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."  And  on 
the  same  date  to  Murray  :  "I  know  by  experience  that  a 
savage  review  is  hemlock  to  a  sucking  author  ;  and  the  one 
on  me  (which  produced  the  English  Bards,  etc.)  knocked 
me  down,  but  I  got  up  again,"  etc.  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  ^r/Z/V/; 
Bards,  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  British  Bards,  and  in 


2  94         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH   REVIEWERS. 

March,  1809,  the  Satire  was  published  anonymously.  Byron 
was  at  no  pains  to  conceal  the  authorship  of  English  Bards^ 
and  Scotch  Reviewers,  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  mora 
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  Edinburgh  Review,  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  im- 
pression. 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. 

Towards  the  close  of  the  last  century  there  had  been  an 
outburst  of  satirical  poems,  written  in  the  style  of  the 
Dunciad  and  its  offspring  the  Rosciad.  Of  these,  Gifford's 
Baviad  and  McBviad  (1794-5),  and  T.  J.  Mathias'  Pursuits 
of  Literature  (1794-7),  were  the  direct  progenitors  of  English 
Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers.  The  Rolliad  (1784),  the 
Childreji  of  Apollo  (circ.  1794),  Canning's  New  Morality 
(1798),  andWolcot'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 
jeux  d'isprit,  and  in  1807,  when  Byron  was  still  at  Cam- 
bridge, the  air  was  full  of  these  ephemera.  To  name  only 
a  few.  All  the  Taleftts,  by  Polypus  (Eaton  Stannard  Barrett), 
was  answered  by  All  the  Blocks,  an  antidote  to  All  the 
Talents,  by  Flagellum  (W.  H.  Ireland)  ;  Elijah's  Mantle,  a 
tribute  to  the  7ne7nory  of  the  R.  H.  William  Pitt,  by  James 
Sayer,  the  caricaturist,  provoked  Melville's  Mantle,  beiftg 
a  Parody  o?t  .  .  .  Elijah's  Mantle.  The  Simpliciad,  A 
Satirico-Didactic  Poem,  and  Lady  Anne  Hamilton's  Epics 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  295 

of  the  Ton,  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. 

British  Bards  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  Gentle  Alterative  for  the  Reviewers,  1809  (for  further 
details,  see  vol.  i.,  Letters,  Letter  102,  note  i),  produced  the 
brilliant  success  of  the  enlarged  satire.  Efiglish  Bards,  and 
Scotch  Reviewers  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. 


ENGLISH    BARDS, 

AND 

SCOTCH    REVIEWERS/ 


Still  ^  must  I  hear  ?— shall  hoarse  ^  Fitzgerald  bawl 
His  creaking  couplets  in  a  tavern  hall, 
And  I  not  sing,  lest,  haply,  Scotch  Reviews 
Should  dub  me  scribbler,  and  denounce  my  Muse  ? 

1.  "  The  binding  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  indiscrimmate 
acrimony  to  the  flames." — B.,  1816. 

2.  Imitation. 

"  Semper  ego  auditor  tantum  ?  nunquamne  reponam, 
Vexatus  toties  rauci  Theseide  Codri  ? " 

Juvenal,  Satire  /.I.  i. 

3.  "  Hoarse  Fitzgerald:'—''  Right  enough  ;  but  why  notice 
such  a  mountebank.'"' — B.,  1816. 

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.  [William 
Thomas  Fitzgerald  (circ.  1759-1829)  played  the  part  of  un- 
official poet  laureate.  His  loyal  recitations  were  reported 
by  the  newspapers.  He  published,  inter  alia,  Nelson's 
Triumph  (1798),  Tears  of  Hibernia,  dispelled  by  the  Union 
(1802),  and  Nelson's  Tomb  (1806).     He  owes  his  fame  to  the 


298         ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH   REVIEWERS. 

Prepare  for  rhyme — I'll  publish,  right  or  wrong  : 
Fools  are  my  theme,  let  Satire  be  my  song.'- 

Oh  !  Nature's  noblest  gift — my  grey  goose-quill ! 
Slave  of  my  thoughts,  obedient  to  my  will. 
Torn  from  thy  parent  bird  to  form  a  pen. 
That  mighty  instrument  of  little  men  !  10 

The  pen  !  foredoomed  to  aid  the  mental  throes 
Of  brains  that  labour,  big  with  Verse  or  Prose  ; 
Though  Nymphs  forsake,  and  Critics  may  deride, 
The  Lover's  solace,  and  the  Author's  pride. 
What  Wits  !  what  Poets  dost  thou  daily  raise ! 
How  frequent  is  thy  use,  how  small  thy  praise ! 

i.    Truth  be  viy  theme,  and  Censure  guide  my  song. — \MS.  A/.] 

first  line  of  English  Bards,  and  the  famous  parody  in 
Rejected  Addresses.  The  following  jeux  d^ Esprit  were  tran- 
scribed by  R.  C.  Dallas  on  a  blank  leaf  of  a  copy  of  the 
Fifth  Edition  : — 

"  Written  on  a  copy  of  English  Bards  at  the  *  Alfred '  by 
W.  T.  Fitzgerald,  Esq.— 

"  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. 

Signed  W.  T.  F." 
Answer  written  on  the  same  page  by  Lord  Byron — 

"  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  j 
Or  rather  would  be,  if  for  time  to  come. 
They  luckily  were  deaf,  or  thou  wert  dumb  ; 
But  to  their  pens  while  scribblers  add  their  tongues, 
The  Waiter  only  can  escape  their  lungs.*] 


*  [Compare  Hints  from  Horace^  1.  808,  tiote  i.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  299 

Condemned  at  length  to  be  forgotten  quite, 
With  all  the  pages  which  'twas  thine  to  write. 
But  thou,  at  least,  mine  own  especial  pen  !  '• 
Once  laid  aside,  but  now  assumed  again,  20 

Our  task  complete,  like  Hamet's  ^  shall  be  free ; 
Though  spurned  by  others,  yet  beloved  by  me : 
Then  let  us  soar  to-day ;  no  common  theme, 
No  Eastern  vision,  no  distempered  dream  ^ 
Inspires — our  path,  though  full  of  thorns,  is  plain ; 
Smooth  be  the  verse,  and  easy  be  the  strain. 

When  Vice  triumphant  holds  her  sov'reign  sway, 
Obey'd  by  all  who  nought  beside  obey ;  "• 
When  Folly,  frequent  harbinger  of  crime. 
Bedecks  her  cap  with  bells  of  every  Clime ;  "'•         30 
When  knaves  and  fools  combined  o'er  all  prevail. 
And  weigh  their  Justice  in  a  Golden  Scale ;  '"• 
E'en  then  the  boldest  start  from  public  sneers, 
Afraid  of  Shame,  unknown  to  other  fears, 

i.  But  thou,  at  least,  mine  own  especial  quill 
Dipt  in  the  dew  drops  from  Parnassus'  hill, 
Shalt  ever  honoured  and  regarded  be. 
By  more  beside  no  doubt,  yet  still  by  me. — [MS.  M.] 
ii.   A?id  men  through  life  her  willing  slaves  obey. 

[MS.  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth  Editions.] 
iii .    Unfolds  her  motley  store  to  suit  the  time.  — 

[MS.  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth  Editions.] 
iv.    When  Justice  halts  and  Right  begins  to  fail. — 

[xMS.  Second,  Third,  and  Fourth  Editions.] 

1.  Cid  Hamet  Benengeli  promises  repose  to  his  pen,  in  the 
last  chapter  of  Dofi  Quixote.  Oh  !  that  our  voluminous 
gentry  would  follow  the  example  of  Cid  Hamet  Benengeli ! 

2.  "  This  must  have  been  written  in  the  spirit  of  prophecy." 


30O         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

IMore  darkly  sin,  by  Satire  kept  in  awe, 

And  shrink  from  Ridicule,  though  not  from  Law. 

Such  is  the  force  of  Wit !  but  not  belong 
To  me  the  arrows  of  satiric  song ; 
The  royal  vices  of  our  age  demand 
A  keener  weapon,  and  a  mightier  hand.'-  40 

Still  there  are  follies,  e'en  for  me  to  chase, 
And  yield  at  least  amusement  in  the  race : 
Laugh  when  I  laugh,  I  seek  no  other  fame, 
The  cry  is  up,  and  scribblers  are  my  game : 
Speed,  Pegasus  ! — ye  strains  of  great  and  small. 
Ode  !  Epic  !  Elegy  ! — have  at  you  all ! 
I,  too,  can  scrawl,  and  once  upon  a  time 
I  poured  along  the  town  a  flood  of  rhyme, 
A  schoolboy  freak,  unworthy  praise  or  blame ; 
I  printed — older  children  do  the  same.  50 

'Tis  pleasant,  sure,  to  see  one's  name  in  print ; 
A  Book's  a  Book,  altho'  there's  nothing  in't. 
Not  that  a  Title's  sounding  charm  can  save  "• 
Or  scrawl  or  scribbler  from  an  equal  grave : 
This  Lamb  ^  must  own,  since  his  patrician  name 

i.  A  mortal  weapon.— \^MS.  M.] 
ii.    Yet  Titlis  sounding  lineage  cannot  save 
Or  scrawl  or  scribble?'  from  aft  equal  grave, 
Lamb  had  his  farce  but  that  Patrician  name 
Failed  to  preserve  the  spurious  brat  from  shame. — [J/^.] 

I.  "  He's  a  verygood  fellow  ;  and,  except  his  mother  and 
sister,  the  best  of  the  set,  to  my  mind."— B.,  18 16.  [William 
(1779-1848)  and  George  (1784-1834)  Lamb,  sons  of  Sir 
Peniston  Lamb  (Viscount  Melbourne,   1828),  by  Elizabeth, 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         30I 

Failed  to  preserve  the  spurious  Farce  from  shame. ^ 

No  matter,  George  continues  still  to  write,^ 

Tho'  now  the  name  is  veiled  from  public  sight. 

Moved  by  the  great  example,  I  pursue 

The  self-same  road,  but  make  my  own  review :  60 

Not  seek  great  Jeffrey's,  yet  like  him  will  be 

Self-constituted  Judge  of  Poesy. 

A  man  must  serve  his  time  to  every  trade 
Save  Censure — Critics  all  are  ready  made. 
Take  hackneyed  jokes  from  Miller,^  got  by  rote, 
With  just  enough  of  learning  to  misquote ; 

only  daughter  of  Sir  Ralph  Milbanke,  were  Lady  Byron's 
first  cousins.  William  married,  in  1805,  Lady  Caroline 
Ponsonby,  the  writer  of  Glefiarvon.  George,  who  was  one 
of  the  early  contributors  to  the  Edinburgh  Review^  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  Mel- 
bourne 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  516  of 
English  Bards!\ 

1.  This  ingenuous  youth  is  mentioned  more  particularly, 
with  his  production,  in  another  place.     {Vide post,  1.  516.) 

"  Spurious  Brat "  [see  variant  ii.  p.  300],  that  is  the  farce ;  the 
ingenuous  youth  who  begat  it  is  mentioned  more  particularly 
with  his  offspring  in  another  place.  [Note.  MS.  M.]  [The 
farce  Whistle  for  It  was  performed  two  or  three  times  at 
Covent  Garden  Theatre  in  1807.] 

2.  In  the  Edinburgh  Review. 

3.  [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-)] 


302         ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH   REVIEWERS. 

A  mind  well  skilled  to  find,  or  forge  a  fault ; 

A  turn  for  punning — call  it  Attic  salt ; 
;To  Jeffrey  go,  be  silent  and  discreet, 
\^is  pay  is  just  ten  sterling  pounds  per  sheet :         70 

Fear  not  to  lie,  'twill  seem  a  sharper  hit ;  '• 

Shrink  not  from  blasphemy,  'twill  pass  for  wit ; 

Care  not  for  feeling — pass  your  proper  jest. 

And  stand  a  Critic,  hated  yet  caressed. 

— i 

And  shall  we  own  such  judgment  ?  no — as  soon 
Seek  roses  in  December — ice  in  June ; 
Hope  constancy  in  wind,  or  corn  in  chaff, 
Beiieye  a  woman  or  an  epitaph, 
Or^y  other  thing  that's  false,  before 
You  trust  in  Critics,  who  themselves  are  sore);        80 
Or  yield  one  single  thought  to  be  misled 
By  Jeffrey's  heart,  or  Lamb's  Boeotian  head.^ 

i.  a  lucky  hit. — {Second ^  Third y  and  Fourth  Editions.  \ 

I.  Messrs.  Jeffrey  and  Lamb  are  the  alpha  and  omega, 
the  first  and  last  of  the  Edinburgh  Review;  the  others  are 
mentioned  hereafter.  [The  MS.  Note  is  as  follows: — "Of 
the  young  gentlemen  who  write  in  the  E.  /?.,  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."] 

"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. 

[Francis  Jeffrey  (i 773-1 850)  founded  the  Edinburgh  Review 
in  conjunction  with  Sydney  Smith,  Brougham,  and  Francis 
Horner,  in  1802.  In  1803  he  succeeded  Smith  as  editor,  and 
conducted  the  Review  till  1829.  Independence  of  publishers 
and  high  pay  to  contributors  ("  Ten  guineas  a  sheet,"  writes 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         303 

To  these  young  tyrants,  by  themselves  misplaced, 

Combined  usurpers  on  the  Throne  of  Taste  ; 

To  these,  when  Authors  bend  in  humble  awe, 

And  hail  their  voice  as  Truth,  their  word  as  Law ; 

While  these  are  Censors,  'twould  be  sin  to  spare  :  ^ 

While  such  are  Critics,  why  should  I  forbear  ? 

But  yet,  so  near  all  modern  worthies  run, 

'Tis  doubtful  whom  to  seek,  or  whom  to  shun  ;  90 

Nor  know  we  when  to  spare,  or  where  to  strike, 

Our  Bards  and  Censors  are  so  much  alike. 


Southey  to  Scott,  June,  1807,  "instead  of  seven  pounds  for 
the  Annual^''  Life  and  Corr.,  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  Hours  of  Idleness  had  been  cut  up 
by  the  Edinburgh,  and  when  the  article  appeared  (Jan.  1808), 
under  the  mistaken  impression  that  he  was  the  author, 
denounced  him  at  large  (11.  460-528)  in  the  first  edition  of 
English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers,  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  Edinburgh  Review^ 
vol.  xxii.  p.  416,  and  Byron's  comment  in  his  Diary  for 
March  20,  1814  ;  Life,  p.  232.  See,  too,  Hints  from  Horace, 
11.  589-626;  and  Don  fuan,  canto  x.  st.  11-16,  and  canto 
xii.  St.  16.  See  also  Bagehot's  Literary  Studies,  vol.  i. 
article  i.)] 
I.  Imitation. 

"  Stulta  est  dementia,  cum  tot  ubique 

occurras  periturae  parcere  chartae." 

Juvenal,  Sat.  1. 11.  17,  18. 


304         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Then  should  you  ask  me/  why  I  venture  o'er 
The  path  which  Pope  and  Gifford  2  trod  before ; 
If  not  yet  sickened,  you  can  still  proceed ; 
Go  on.;  my  rhyme  will  tell  you  as  you  read. 
"  But  hold  ! "  exclaims  a  friend, — "  here's  some  neglect : 
This — that — and  t'other  line  seem  incorrect." 

1.  Imitation. 

"  Cur  tamen  hoc  potius  libeat  decurrere  campo, 
Per  quem  magnus  equos  Auruncae  flexit  alumnus, 
Si  vacat,  et  placidi  rationem  admittitis,  edam." 

Juvenal,  Sat.  I.  11.  19-21. 

2.  [William  Gifford  (1756-1826),  a  self-taught  scholar,  first 
a  ploughboy,  then  boy  on  board  a  Brixham  coaster,  after- 
wards shoemaker's  apprentice,  was  sent  by  friends  to  Exeter 
College,  Oxford  (1779-81).  In  the  Baviad  (1794)  and  the 
McEviad  (1795)  he  attacked  many  of  the  smaller  writers  of 
the  day,  who  were  either  silly,  like  the  Delia  Cruscan  School, 
or  discreditable,  like  Williams,  who  wrote  as  "Anthony 
Pasquin."  In  his  Epistle  to  Peter  Pindar  (1800)  he  laboured 
to  expose  the  true  character  of  John  Wolcot.  As  editor  of 
XkiQ  Anti-J acobi7i^  or  Weekly  Examiner  (November,  1797,  to 
July,  1798),  he  supported  the  political  views  of  Canning  and 
his  friends.  As  editor  of  the  Quarterly  Review^  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  pre- 
judice. His  editions  of  Massinger  (1805),  which  superseded 
that  of  Monck  Mason  and  Davies  (1765),  of  Ben  Jonson 
(1816),  of  Ford  (1827),  are  valuable.  To  his  translation  of 
Juvenal  (1802)  is  prefixed  his  autobiography.  His  trans- 
lation of  Persius  appeared  in  1821.  To  Gifford,  Byron 
usually  paid  the  utmost  deference.  "  Any  suggestion  of 
yours,  even  if  it  were  conveyed,"  he  writes  to  him,  in  181 3, 
"  in  the  less  tender  text  of  the  Baviad,  or  a  Monck  Mason 
note  to  Massinger,  would  be  obeyed."  See  also  his  letter 
(September  20,  1821,  Life,^.  531)  :  "  I  know  no  praise  which 
would  compensate  me  in  my  own  mind  for  his  censure." 
Byron  was  attracted  to  Gifford,  partly  by  his  devotion  to  the 
classical  models  of  literature,  partly  by  the  outspoken  frank- 
ness of  his  literary  criticism,  partly  also,  perhaps,  by  his 
physical  deformity.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  305 

\Vhat  then  ?  the  self-same  blunder  Pope  has  got, 
And  careless  Dryden — "  Aye,  but  Pye  has  not : " —  loo 
Indeed  ! — 'tis  granted,  faith  ! — but  what  care  1  ? 
Better  to  err  with  Pope,  than  shine  with  Pye.^ 

Time  was,  ere  yet  in  these  degenerate  days  ^ 
Ignoble  themes  obtained  mistaken  praise, 

1.  [Henry  James  Pye  (1745-18 13),  M.P.  for  Berkshire, 
and  afterwards  Police  Magistrate  for  Westminster,  held  the 
office  of  poet  laureate  from  1790  till  his  death  in  181 3,  suc- 
ceeding Thomas  Warton,  and  succeeded  by  Southey.  He 
published  Farringdon  HilLvsx  1774,  The  Progress  of  Refine- 
ment in  1783,  and  a  translation  of  Biirger's  Lenore  in  1795. 
His  name  recurs  in  the  Vision  of  Judgment^  stanza  xcii. 
Lines  97-102  were  inserted  in  the  Fifth  Edition.] 

2.  [The  first  edition  of  the  Satire  opened  with  this  line  ; 
and  Byron's  original  intention  was  to  prefix  the  following 
argument,  first  published  in  Recollections^  by  R.  C.  Dallas 
(1824)  :— 

"Argument. 
"  The  poet  consldereth  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 — com- 
plaineth  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.  Hayleyto  turn  his  attention  to  prose — 
and  exhorteth  the  Moravians  to  glorify  Mr.  Grahame — sym- 
pathiseth  with  the  Rev.  [William  Bowles] — and  deploreth  the 
melancholy  fate  of  James  Mont^^omery — 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,  Frith  of  Forth  [and  Arthur's 
Seat,  MS^  severally  shocked ;  descent  of  a  goddess  to 
save  Jeffrey  ;  incorporation  of  the  bullets  with  his  sinciput 
and  occiput. — Edinburgh  Reviews  en  masse, — Lord  Aberdeen, 

VOL.  I.  X 


3o6  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

"When  Sense  and  Wit  with  Poesy  allied, 

No  fabled  Graces,  flourished  side  by  side. 

From  the  same  fount  their  inspiration  drew, 

And,  reared  by  Taste,  bloomed  fairer  as  they  grew. 

Then,  in  this  happy  Isle,  a  Pope's  pure  strain 

Sought  the  rapt  soul  to  charm,  nor  sought  in  vain ;      no 

A  polished  nation's  praise  aspired  to  claim, 

And  raised  the  people's,  as  the  poet's  fame. 

Like  him  great  Dryden  poured  the  tide  of  song, 

In  stream  less  smooth,  indeed,  yet  doubly  strong. 

Then  Congreve's  scenes  could  cheer,  or  Otway's  melt ;  ^ 

For  Nature  then  an  English  audience  felt — 

But  why  these  names,  or  greater  still,  retrace. 

When  all  to  feebler  Bards  resign  their  place  ? 

Yet  to  such  times  our  lingering  looks  are  cast, 

When  taste  and  reason  with  those  times  are  past.         120 

Now  look  around,  and  turn  each  trifling  page. 

Survey  the  precious  works  that  please  the  age ; 

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, 
Gifl'ord,  etc.  true  poets — Translators  of  the  Greek  Anthology 
— Crabbe — Darwin's  style — Cambridge — Seatonian  Prize — 
Smythe  —  Hodgson  —  Oxford — Richards — Poeta  loquitur — 
Conclusion."] 

I.  [Lines  115,  116,  were  a  MS.  addition  to  the  printed  text 
of  British  Bards.  An  alternative  version  has  been  pencilled 
on  the  margin  : — 

"  Otway  and  Congreve  mimic  scenes  had  wove 
And  Waller  tuned  his  Lyre  to  mighty  Love."] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  307 

This  truth  at  least  let  Sath-e's  self  allow, 
No  dearth  of  Bards  can  be  complained  of  now.*- 
The  loaded  Press  beneath  her  labour  groans,"- 
And  Printers'  devils  shake  their  weary  bones ; 
While  Southey's  Epics  cram  the  creaking  shelves,"'- 
And  Little's  Lyrics  shine  in  hot-pressed  twelves.^ 
Thus  saith  the  Preacher:  "  Nought  beneath  the  sun 
Is  new,"  2  yet  still  from  change  to  change  we  run.    130 
What  varied  wonders  tempt  us  as  they  pass  ! 
The  Cow-pox,  Tractors,  Galvanism,  and  Gas,^ 

i.  No  dearth  of  rhyme. — [British  Bards.] 
ii.  The  Press  oppress'' d. — {British  Bards.] 
iii.    While  Southey^s  Epics  load. — [British  Bards.] 

1.  [Thomas  Little  was  the  name  under  which  Moore's 
early  poems  were  published — The  Poetical  Works  of  the  late 
Thomas  Little.,  Esq.  (1801).  "  Twelves  "  refers  to  the  "  duo- 
decimo." Sheets,  after  printing,  are  pressed  between  cold  or 
hot  rollers,  to  impart  smoothness  of  "  surface."  Hot  rolling 
is  the  more  expensive  process.] 

2.  Eccles.  chapter  i.  verse  9. 

3.  [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  Researches  (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  Terrible  Tractoration  !  A  Poetical 
Petition  against  Galvanising  Trumpery  and  t/ie  Perkinistit 
Institution  (in  4  cantos,  1803). 

Against  vaccination,  or  cow-pox,  a  brisk  war  was  still  being 
carried  on.  Gillray  has  a  likeness  of  Jenner  vaccinating 
patients. 

Metallic  "Tractors"  were  a  remedy  much  advertised  at 
the  beginning  of  the  century  by  an  American  quack,  Benjamin 


3o8         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

In  turns  appear,  to  make  the  vulgar  stare, 
Till  the  swoln  bubble  bursts — and  all  is  air ! 
Nor  less  new  schools  of  Poetry  arise. 
Where  dull  pretenders  grapple  for  the  prize : 
O'er  Taste  awhile  these  Pseudo-bards  prevail ;  '• 
Each  country  Book-club  bows  the  knee  to  Baal, 
And,  hurling  lawful  Genius  from  the  throne, 
Erects  a  shrine  and  idol  of  its  own  ;"•  140 

Some  leaden  calf — but  whom  it  matters  not. 
From  soaring  Southey,  down  to  groveling  Stott.^ 

i.   O'er  taste  awhile  these  Infidels  prevail. — \MS.'\ 
ii.  Erect  and  hail  an  idol  of  their  own. — \MS.'\ 

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." 

In  Galvanism  several  experiments,  conducted  by  Professor 
Aldini,  nephew  of  Galvani,  are  described  in  the  Morning 
Post  for  Jan.  6th,  Feb.  6th,  and  Jan.  22nd,  1803.  The  latter 
were  made  on  the  body  of  Forster  the  murderer. 

For  the  allusion  to  Gas,  compare  Terrible  TractoraiioHy 
canto  I — 

"  Beddoes  (bless  the  good  doctor)  has 
Sent  me  a  bag  full  of  his  gas. 
Which  snufPd  the  nose  up,  makes  wit  brighter. 
And  eke  a  dunce  an  airy  writer."] 
I.  Stott,  better  known  in  the  Morning  Post  by  the  name 
of  Hatiz.     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,  begin- 
ning thus  : — {Stott  loquitur  quoad  Hibernia) — 

"  Princely  offspring  of  Braganza, 
Erin  greets  thee  with  a  stanza,"  etc. 

Also  a  Sonnet  to  Rats,  well  worthy  of  the  subject,  and  a 
most  thundering  Ode,  commencing  as  follows  : — 

"  Oh  !  for  a  Lay  !  loud  as  the  surge 
That  lashes  Lapland's  sounding  shore." 

Lord  have  mercy  on  us  !  the  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel " 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         309 

Behold  !  in  various  throngs  the  scribbling  crew, 
For  notice  eager,  pass  in  long  review ; 
Each  spurs  his  jaded  Pegasus  apace, 
And  Rhyme  and  Blank  maintain  an  equal  race ; 
Sonnets  on  sonnets  crowd,  and  ode  on  ode ; 
And  Tales  of  Terror  ^  jostle  on  the  road ; 
Immeasurable  measures  move  along ; 
For  simpering  Folly  loves  a  varied  song,  150 

To  strange,  mysterious  Dulness  still  the  friend, 
Admires  the  strain  she  cannot  comprehend. 
Thus  Lays  of  Minstrels  - — may  they  be  the  last  ! — 

was  nothing  to  this.  [The  lines  "  Princely  Offspring,"  headed 
"  Extemporaneous  Verse  on  the  expulsion  of  the  Prince 
Regent  from  Portugal  by  Gallic  Tyranny,"  were  published  in 
the  Morfimg  Post,  Dec.  30,  1807.   {See post,  1.  708,  and  note.)] 

1.  [See  p.  317,  note  i.] 

2.  See  the  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  passim.  Never 
was  any  plan  so  incongmous  and  absurd  as  the  groundwork 
of  this  production.  The  entrance  of  Thunder  and  Light- 
ning prologuising  to  Bayes'  tragedy  [{v/c/e  The  Rehearsal), 
British  Bards'],  unfortunately  takes  away  the  merit  of  origin- 
ality 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,"  videlicet,  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.e.  the  gallows. 

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  chefs 
(Voeuv7'e  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 


3 TO  ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

On  half-Strung  harps  whine  mournful  to  the  blast. 
While  mountain  spirits  prate  to  river  sprites, 
That  dames  may  listen  to  the  sound  at  nights ; 
And  goblin  brats,  of  Gilpin  Horner's  ^  brood 
Decoy  young  Border-nobles  through  the  wood, 
And  skip  at  every  step,  Lord  knows  how  high. 
And  frighten  foolish  babes,  the  Lord  knows  why ;    i6o 
\Vhile  high-born  ladies  in  their  magic  cell, 
Forbidding  Knights  to  read  v.ho  cannot  spell, 
Despatch  a  courier  to  a  wizard's  grave. 
And  fight  with  honest  men  to  shield  a  knave. 

Next  view  in  state,  proud  prancing  on  his  roan, 
The  golden-crested  haughty  Marmion, 

been  able  to  read  and  write.  The  poem  was  manufactured 
for  Messrs.  Constable,  Murray,  and  Miller,  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.  ScOTT  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. 

[Constable  paid  Scott  a  thousand  pounds  for  Marmion^ 
and  "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."'  ..."  A  severe  and  unjust  review  of  Marmion 
by  Jeffrey  appeared  in  [the  Edinburgh  Review  for  April]  1808, 
accusing  Scott  of  a  mercenar}'^  spirit  in  wTiting  for  money. 
.  .  .  Scott  was  much  nettled  by  these  observations  "  {iMe?noirs 
ofjohti  Murray,  i.  76, 95).  In  his  diary  of  1813  Byron  wrote 
of  Scott,  "  He  is  undoubtedly  the  Monarch  of  Parnassus,  and 
the  most  English  of  Bards." — Life,  p.  206.] 

I.  [It  was  the  suggestion  of  the  Countess  of  Dalkeith,  that 
Scott  should  write  a  ballad  on  the  old  border  legend  of 
Gilpin  Horner,  which  first  gave  shape  to  the  poet's  ideas, 
and  led  to  the  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel?^ 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  31I 

Now  forging  scrolls,  now  foremost  in  the  fight, 

Not  quite  a  Felon,  yet  but  half  a  Knight,'- 

The  gibbet  or  the  field  prepared  to  grace ; 

A  mighty  mixture  of  the  great  and  base.  170 

And  think'st  thou,  Scott  !  by  vain  conceit  perchance. 

On  public  taste  to  foist  thy  stale  romance. 

Though  Murray  with  his  Miller  may  combine 

To  yield  thy  muse  just  half-a-crown  per  line  ?  ^ 

No  !  when  the  sons  of  song  descend  to  trade, 

Their  bays  are  sear,  their  former  laurels  fade. 

Let  such  forego  the  poet's  sacred  name, 

Who  rack  their  brains  for  lucre,  not  for  fame  : 

Still  for  stern  Mammon  may  they  toil  in  vain  !  ^ 

i.  Not  quite  a  footpad . — [British  Bards.\ 

1.  [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)  Epics  of  the  Ton  (1807),  a  work 
which  has  not  shared  the  dubious  celebrity  of  her  Secret 
Memories  of  the  Court,  etc.  (1832).  Compare  the  following 
lines  (p.  9)  : — 

"  Then  still  might  Southey  sing  his  crazy  Joan, 
Or  feign  a  Welshman  o'er  the  Atlantic  flown, 
Or  tell  of  Thalaba  the  wondrous  matter, 
Or  with  clown  Wordsworth,  chatter,  chatter,  chatter. 

Good-natured  Scott  rehearse,  in  well-paid  lays. 
The  marv'lous  chiefs  and  elves  of  other  days." 

(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  Hours  of 
Idleness,  because  he  thought  it  treated  with  undue  severity, 
see  Introduction  to  Marynion,  1830.)] 

2.  [Lines  179,  180,  in  the  Fifth  Edition,  were  substituted 
for  variant  i.  p.  312. — Leigh  Hunfs  a?inotated  Copy  of  the 
Fourth  Edition.'] 


312         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And  sadly  gaze  on  Gold  they  cannot  gain  !  i8o 

Such  be  their  meed,  such  still  the  just  reward  *• 
Of  prostituted  Muse  and  hireling  bard ! 
For  this  we  spurn  Apollo's  venal  son, 
And  bid  a  long  "  good  night  to  Marmion."  ^ 

These  are  the  themes  that  claim  our  plaudits  now ; 
These  are  the  Bards  to  whom  the  Muse  must  bow ; 
While  Milton,  Dryden,  Pope,  alike  forgot, 
Resign  their  hallowed  Bays  to  Walter  Scott. 

The  time  has  been,  when  yet  the  Muse  was  young. 
When  Homer  swept  the  lyre,  and  Marc  sung,         190 
An  Epic  scarce  ten  centuries  could  claim, 
While  awe-struck  nations  hailed  the  magic  name  : 
The  work  of  each  immortal  Bard  appears 
The  single  wonder  of  a  thousand  years.^ 
Empires  have  mouldered  from  the  face  of  earth. 
Tongues  have  expired  with  those  who  gave  them  birth, 

i.  Lo^v  may  they  sink  to  merited  contempt, — ^British  Bards. ^ 
And  Scorn  remunerate  the  mean  attempt ! — 

[MS,  First  to  Fourth  Editions.] 

1.  "  Good  night  to  Marmion" — the  pathetic  and  also  pro- 
phetic exclamation  of  Henry  Blount,  Esquire,  on  the  death 
of  honest  Marmion. 

2.  As  the  Odyssey  is  so  closely  connected  with  the  story 
of  the  Iliad,  they  may  almost  be  classed  as  one  grand  his- 
torical poem.  In  alluding  to  Milton  and  Tasso,  we  consider 
the  Paradise  Lost  and  Gerusalemme  Liberata  as  their 
standard  efforts ;  since  neither  the  Jerusalem  Conquered 
of  the  Italian,  nor  the  Paradise  Regained  of  the  English 
bard,  obtained  a  proportionate  celebrity  to  their  former 
poems.     Query  :  Which  of  Mr.  Southeys  will  survive  ? 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS,        313 

Without  the  glory  such  a  strain  can  give, 

As  even  in  ruin  bids  the  language  live. 

Not  so  with  us,  though  minor  Bards,  content,'- 

On  one  great  work  a  life  of  labour  spent :  200 

With  eagle  pinion  soaring  to  the  skies, 

Behold  the  Ballad-monger  Southey  rise  ! 

To  him  let  Camoens,  Milton,  Tasso  yield, 

Whose  annual  strains,  like  armies,  take  the  field. 

First  in  the  ranks  see  Joan  of  Arc  advance. 

The  scourge  of  England  and  the  boast  of  France  ! 

Though  burnt  by  wicked  Bedford  for  a  witch, 

Behold  her  statue  placed  in  Glory's  niche ; 

Her  fetters  burst,  and  just  released  from  prison, 

A  virgin  Phoenix  from  her  ashes  risen.  210 

Next  see  tremendous  Thalaba  come  on,^ 

Arabia's  monstrous,  wild,  and  wond'rous  son  ; 

Domdaniel's  dread  destroyer,  who  o'erthrevv 

More  mad  magicians  than  the  world  e'er  knew. 

Immortal  Hero  !  all  thy  foes  o'ercome, 

For  ever  reign — the  rival  of  Tom  Thumb  !  ^ 

i.  though  lesser  bards  content. — [British  Bards."] 

1.  Thalaba,  Mr.  Southey's  second  poem,  is  written  in 
open  defiance  of  precedent  and  poetry.  Mr.  S.  wished  to 
produce  something  novel,  and  succeeded  to  a  miracle.  Joan 
of  Arc  was  marvellous  enough,  but  1  halaba\\2is  one  of  those 
poems  "which,"  in  the  words  of  PORSON,  "  will  be  read  when 
Homer  and  Virgil  are  forgotten,  but — 71  ot  till  then^''  ["  Of 
Thalaba  the  wild  and  wondrous  song." — Proem  to  Madoc, 
Southey's  Poetical  Works  (1838),  vol.  v.  Joan  of  Arc  was 
published  in  1796,  Thalaba  the  Destroyer  in  1801,  and  Madoc 
in  1805.] 

2.  [The  hero  of  Fielding's  farce,  The  Tragedy  of  Tragedies, 


314         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Since  startled  Metre  fled  before  thy  face, 

^Vell  wert  thou  doomed  the  last  of  all  thy  race  ! 

Well  might  triumphant  Genii  bear  thee  hence. 

Illustrious  conqueror  of  common  sense  !  220 

Now,  last  and  greatest,  Madoc  spreads  his  sails, 

Cacique  in  Mexico,^  and  Prince  in  Wales ; 

Tells  us  strange  tales,  as  other  travellers  do, 

More  old  than  Mandeville's,  and  not  so  true. 

Oh,  SouTHEY  !  SouTHEY  !  ^  ccase  thy  varied  song  ! 

A  bard  may  chaunt  too  often  and  too  long : 

As  thou  art  strong  in  verse,  in  mercy,  spare ! 

A  fourth,  alas  !  were  more  than  we  could  bear. 

But  if,  in  spite  of  all  the  world  can  say. 

Thou  still  wilt  verseward  plod  thy  weary  way ;     230 

or  the  Life  aftd  Death  of  Tom  Thutnb  the  Great,  first  played 
in  1730  at  the  HajTnarket.] 

1.  [Southey's  Madoc  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  :"  New  Engl. 
Diet,,  Art.  "  Cacique  ")  occurs  in  the  translations  of  Spanish 
writers  quoted  by  Southey  in  his  notes,  but  not  in  the  text 
of  the  poem.] 

2.  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  Madoc  (1805), 
Southey's  Poetical  Works  {\Z-}^Z),  vol.  v.  p.  xxi.]  Why  is  Epic 
degraded  ?  and  by  whom  "i  Certainly  the  late  Romaunts  of 
Masters  Cottle,  Laureat  Pye,  Ogilvy,  Hole,*  and  gentle  Mis- 
tress Cowley,  have  not  exalted  the  Epic  Muse  ;  but,  as  Mr. 
Southey's  poem  "  disdains  the  appellation,"  allow  us  to  ask 
— has  he  substituted  anything  better  in  its  stead  ?  or  must  he 
be  content  to  rival  Sir  Richard  Blackmore  in  the  quantity 
as  well  as  quality  of  his  verse .'' 

*  For  "  Hole,"  the  MS.  and  British  Bards  read  "  Sir  J. 
B.  Burgess ;  Cumberland." 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         315 

If  Still  in  Berkeley-Ballads  most  uncivil, 
Thou  wilt  devote  old  women  to  the  devil,^ 
The  babe  unborn  thy  dread  intent  may  rue : 
"  God  help  thee,"  Southey,^  and  thy  readers  too. 

Next  comes  the  dull  disciple  of  thy  school^  ^ 
That  mild  apostate  from  poetic  rule, 
The  simple  Wordsworth,  framer  of  a  lay 
As  soft  as  evening  in  his  favourite  May, 
Who  warns  his  friend  "  to  shake  off  toil  and  trouble, 
And  quit  his  books,  for  fear  of  growing  double  ; "  *  240 
Who,  both  by  precept  and  example,  shows 
That  prose  is  verse,  and  verse  is  merely  prose ; 
Convincing  all,  by  demonstration  plain, 
Poetic  souls  delight  in  prose  insane  ; 

1.  See  T/ie  Old  Woman  oj  Berkeley,  a  ballad  by  Mr. 
Southey,  wherein  an  aged  gentlewoman  is  carried  away  by 
Beelzebub,  on  a  "  high  trotting  horse." 

2.  The  last  line,  "  God  help  thee,"  is  an  evident  plagiarism 
from  the  Anti-J acobiti  to  Mr.  Southey,  on  his  Dactylics  : — 

"  God  help  thee,  silly  one  !  " 

Poetry  of  the  A^iti-Jacobin,  p.  23. 

3.  [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  "Un- 
just." The  recantation  is,  no  doubt,  intended  to  apply  to 
both  passages  from  beginning  to  end.] 

S^'Unjustr—^.,  1816.  (See  also  Byron's  letter  to  S.  T. 
Coleridge,  March  31,  18 15.)] 

4.  Lyrical  Ballads,  p.  4. — "  The  Tables  Turned,"  Stanza  i. 

"  Up,  up,  my  friend,  and  clear  your  looks. 
Why  all  this  toil  and  trouble  ? 
Up,  up,  my  friend,  and  quit  your  books, 
Or  surely  you'll  grow  double." 


31 6         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And  Christmas  stories  tortured  into  rhyme 

Contain  the  essence  of  the  true  sublime. 

Thus,  when  he  tells  the  tale  of  Betty  Foy, 

The  idiot  mother  of  "  an  idiot  Boy ; " 

A  moon-struck,  silly  lad,  who  lost  his  way. 

And,  like  his  bard,  confounded  night  with  day  ;  ^      250 

So  close  on  each  pathetic  part  he  dwells, 

And  each  adventure  so  sublimely  tells, 

That  all  who  view  the  "  idiot  in  his  glory  " 

Conceive  the  Bard  the  hero  of  the  story. 

Shall  gentle  Coleridge  pass  unnoticed  here,^ 
To  turgid  ode  and  tumid  stanza  dear  ? 
Though  themes  of  innocence  amuse  him  best, 
Yet  still  Obscurity's  a  welcome  guest. 
If  Inspiration  should  her  aid  refuse 
To  him  who  takes  a  Pixy  for  a  muse,^  260 

1.  Mr.  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  : — 

"  And  thus  to  Betty's  questions  he 
Made  answer,  like  a  traveller  bold. 
*  The  cock  did  crow,  to-whoo,  to-whoo, 
And  the  sun  did  shine  so  cold.' " 

Lyrical  Ballads,  p.  1 79. 
[Compare  The  Sijnpliciad,  11.  295-305,  and  note.'] 

2.  "  He  has  not  published  for  some  years." — British  Bards. 
[A  marginal  note  in  pencil.]  [Coleridge's  Poems  (3rd  edit.) 
appeared  in  1803  ;  the  first  number  of  The  Friend  on  June  l, 
1809.] 

3.  Coleridge's  Poe?ns,  p.  11,  "Songs  of  the  Pixies,"  i.e. 
Devonshire  Fairies  ;  p.  42,  we  have  "  Lines  to  a  Young 
Lady;"  and,  p.  52,  "Lines  to  a  Young  Ass."  [Compare 
The  Simpliciad,  11.  211,  213 — 

"  Then  in  despite  of  scornful  Folly's  pother, 
Ask  him  to  live  with  you  and  hail  him  brother."] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  317 

Yet  none  in  lofty  numbers  can  surpass 

The  bard  who  soars  to  elegize  an  ass : 

So  well  the  subject  suits  his  noble  mind,'- 

He  brays,  the  Laureate  of  the  long-eared  kind."- 

Oh  !  wonder-working  Lewis  !  ^  Monk,  or  Bard, 
Who  fain  would  make  Parnassus  a  church-yard  !  ""■ 

i.  How  well  the  subject. — \MS.    First  to  Fourth  Editions. \ 
ii.  A  fellow  feeling  makes  us  woftdrous  kind. — 

[British  Bards,  First  to  Fourth  Editions.] 
iii.    Who  fain  would"  st. — [British  Bards,  First  to  Fifth  Editions.] 

I.  [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  Avas  intro- 
duced to  Goethe,  he  applied  himself  to  the  study  of  German 
literature,  especially  novels  and  the  drama.  In  1794  he  was 
appointed  attache  to  the  Embassy  at  the  Hague,  and  in  the 
course  of  ten  weeks  wrote  Avibrosio,  or  The  Monk,  which 
was  published  in  1795.  In  1798  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Scott,  and  procured  his  promise  of  co-operation  in  his 
contemplated  Tales  of  Terror.  In  the  same  year  he  pub- 
lished the  Castle  Spectre  (first  played  at  Drury  Lane,  Dec. 
Hj  1797)>  in  which,  to  quote  the  postscript  "  To  the  Reader," 
he  meant  (but  Sheridan  interposed)  "to  have  exhibited  a 
whole  regiment  of  Ghosts."  Tales  of  Terror  were  printed 
at  Weybridge  in  1801,  and  two  or  three  editions  of  Tales  of 
Wonder,  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  The  Fire  King  (xii.)  by  Walter 
Scott,  are  by  Lewis,  either  original  or  translated.  Scott  also 
contributed  Glenfinlas,  The  Eve  of  St.  John,  Frederick  and 
Alice,  The  Wild  Huntsmen  {Der  Wilde  Jdger).  Southey  con- 
tributed six  poems,  including  The  Old  Woman  of  Berkeley 
(xxiv.).  The  Little  Grey  Man  (xix.)  is  by  H.  Bunbury.  The 
second  volume  is  made  up  from  Burns,  Gray,  Parnell, 
Glover,  Percy's  Reliques,  and  other  sources. 

A  second  edition,  published  in  1801,  which  consists  of 
thirty-two  ballads  (Southey's  are  not  inciuded),  advertises 
"  Tales  of  Terror  printed  uniform  with  this  edition  of  Tales 


3l8  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Lo  !  wreaths  of  yew,  not  laurel,  bind  thy  brow, 
Thy  Muse  a  Sprite,  Apollo's  sexton  thou  ! 
Whether  on  ancient  tombs  thou  tak'st  thy  stand, 
By  gibb'ring  spectres  hailed,  thy  kindred  band ;  270 
Or  tracest  chaste  descriptions  on  thy  page, 
To  please  the  females  of  our  modest  age ; 

of  Wonder^  Rotnantic  Tales,  in  four  volumes,  appeared  in 
1808.  Of  his  other  works,  The  Captive,  A  AIonodra}na,\vdiS 
played  in  1803  ;  the  Bravo  of  Venice,  A  Translation  from 
the  German,  \n  1804;  and  Timour  the  Tartar  in  1811.  His 
Journal  of  a  West  Indian  Proprietor  wdiS  not  published  till 
1834.     He  sat  as  M.P.  for  Hindon  (i 796-1 802). 

He  had  been  a  favourite  in  society  before  Byron  appeared 
on  the  scene,  but  there  is  no  record  of  any  intimacy  or 
acquaintance  before  18 13.  When  Byron  was  living  at 
Geneva,  Lewis  visited  the  Maison  Diodati  in  August,  18 16, 
on  which  occasion  he  "translated  to  him  Goethe's  Faust 
byword  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  La  Mira  in  August, 
1817.  Byron  wrote  of  him  after  his  death  :  "  He  was  a  good 
man,  and  a  clever  one,  but  he  was  a  bore,  a  damned  bore — 
one  may  say.     But  I  liked  him." 

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  Monk,  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  {Letters  of  S.  T.  C.  (1895),  i.  237),  and  again  in  Table 
'Talk  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  Life,  349,  362,  491,  etc.  ;  Life  and  Correspondence  of 
M.  G.  Lewis  (1839),  i-  ^58,  etc.  ;  Life  of  Scott,  by  J.  G.  Lock- 
hart  (1842),  pp.  80-83,  94.)] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  319 

All  hail,  M.P.  !  ^  from  whose  infernal  brain 

Thin-sheeted  phantoms  glide,  a  grisly  train ; 

At  whose  command  "  grim  women  "  throng  in  crowds, 

And  kings  of  fire,  of  water,  and  of  clouds, 

With  "  small  grey  men," — "  wild  yagers,"  and  what  not, 

To  crown  with  honour  thee  and  Walter  Scott  : 

Again,  all  hail  !  if  tales  like  thine  may  please, 

St.  Luke  alone  can  vanquish  the  disease  :  280 

Even  Satan's  self  with  thee  might  dread  to  dwell. 

And  in  thy  skull  discern  a  deeper  Hell. 

Who  in  soft  guise,  surrounded  by  a  choir 
Of  virgins  melting,  not  to  Vesta's  fire, 
With  sparkling  eyes,  and  cheek  by  passion  flushed 
Strikes  his  wild  lyre,  whilst  listening  dames  are  hushed  ? 
'Tis  Little  !  young  Catullus  of  his  day, 
As  sweet,  but  as  immoral,  in  his  Lay  ! 
Grieved  to  condemn,  the  Muse  must  still  be  just. 
Nor  spare  melodious  advocates  of  lust.  290 

Pure  is  the  flame  which  o'er  her  altar  burns ; 
From  grosser  incense  with  disgust  she  turns 

I.  "For  every  one  knows  little  Matt's  an  M.P." — See  a 
poem  to  Mr.  Lewis,  in  The  Statesman,  supposed  to  be 
written  by  Mr.  Jekyll. 

[Joseph  Jekyll  (d.  1837)  was  celebrated  for  his  witticisms 
and  metrical  7>«A'  d^ esprit  which,  he  contributed  \.o  thit  Morn- 
ing Chronicle  and  the  Evening  Statesman.  His  election  as 
M.P.  for  Calne  in  1787,  at  the  nomination  of  Lord  Lans- 
downe,  gave  rise  to  Jekyll^  A  Political  Eclogue  (see  The 
RolliadXijc^c)),  pp.  219-224).  He  was  a  favourite  with  the 
Prince  Regent,  at  whose  instance  he  was  appointed  a  Master 
in  Chancery  in  18 15.] 


320         ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Yet  kind  to  youth,  this  expiation  o'er, 

She  bids  thee  "  mend  thy  line,  and  sin  no  more."  *■ 

For  thee,  translator  of  the  tinsel  song, 
To  whom  such  glittering  ornaments  belong, 
Hibernian  Strangford  !  with  thine  eyes  of  blue,^ 
And  boasted  locks  of  red  or  auburn  hue. 
Whose  plaintive  strain  each  love-sick  Miss  admires, 
And  o'er  harmonious  fustian  half  expires,"-  300 

Learn,  if  thou  canst,  to  yield  thine  authors  sense. 
Nor  vend  thy  sonnets  on  a  false  pretence. 
Think'st  thou  to  gain  thy  verse  a  higher  place. 
By  dressing  Camoens  ^  in  a  suit  of  lace  ? 
Mend,  Strangford  !  mend  thy  morals  and  thy  taste ; 
Be  warm,  but  pure ;  be  amorous,  but  be  chaste  : 

i.  Mend  thy  life,  and  sin  no  more. — \MS.'\ 
ii.  Aftd  o'er  harmonious  nonsense. — {MS.  First  Edition.'\ 

1.  The  reader,  who  may  wish  for  an  explanation  of  this, 
may  refer  to  "  Strangford's  Camoens,"  p.  127,  note  to  p.  56, 
or  to  the  last  page  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  of  Strangford's 
Camoens.  [Percy  Clinton  Sydney  Smythe,  sixth  Viscount 
Strangford  (1780-185 5),  published  Translations  from  the 
Portuguese  by  Luis  de  Camoens  in  1803.  The  note  to  which 
Byron  refers  is  on  the  canzonet  Nad  sei  quern  assella,  "  Thou 
hast  an  eye  of  tender  blue."  It  runs  thus  :  "  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^vhich  such  a  confession  exposes  him— but  he  flies 
for  protection  to  the  temple  of  Aurea  Venus."  It  may  be 
added  that  Byron's  own  locks  were  auburn,  and  his  eyes  a 
greyish-blue.] 

2.  It  is  also  to  be  remarked,  that  the  things  given  to  the 
public  as  poems  of  Camoens  are  no  more  to  be  found  in  the 
original  Portuguese,  than  in  the  Song  of  Solomon. 


ENGLISH    BARDSj    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  32 1 

Cease  to  deceive ;  thy  pilfered  harp  restore, 
Nor  teach  the  Lusian  Bard  to  copy  Moore. 

Behold — Ye  Tarts  ! — one  moment  spare  the  text  !'• — 
Hayley's  last  work,  and  worst — until  his  next;  310 

Whether  he  spin  poor  couplets  into  plays, 
Or  damn  the  dead  with  purgatorial  praise,^ 

i.  ///  many  inarble-covered  volumes  vieio 
Hay  ley  ^  in  vain  attempting  something  }iezc>, 
Whether  he  spin  his  comedies  in  7-hyme, 
Or  scra^vls  as  Wood  and  Barclay"^  -walk,  Against  Time. — 

[MS.    British  Bards,  and  Piy-st  to  Fourth  Editions,  ] 

I.  See  his  various  Biographies  of  defunct  Painters,  etc. 
[William  Hayley  (i 745-1 820)  published  The  Triumphs  oj 
Temper  m  1781,  and  The  Tf'iumph  of  Music  xn  1804.  His 
biography  of  Milton  appeared  in  1796,  of  Cowper  in  1803-4, 
of  Romncy  in  1809.  He  had  produced,  among  other  plays, 
The  HapPy  Prescription  and  The  Two  Co?inoisseurs  \n  1784. 
In  1808  he  would  be  regarded  as  out  of  date,  "hobbling  on" 
behind  younger  rivals  in  the  race  (see  E.  B.,  1.  923).  For 
his  life  and  works,  see  Southey's  article  in  the  Quarterly 
Review  (vol.  xxxi.  p.  263).  The  appeal  to  "  tarts  "  to  "  spare 
the  text,"  is  possibly  an  echo  of  The  Dunciad,  i.  155,  156 — 

"  Of  these  twelve  volumes,  twelve  of  amplest  size, 
Redeemed  from  topers  and  defrauded  pies." 

The  meaning  of  the  appeal  is  fixed  by  such  a  passage  as 
this  from  The  Blues,  where  the  company  discuss  Words- 
worth's appointment  to  a  Collectorship  of  Stamps — 

"  Inkle.  I  shall  think  of  him  oft  when  I  buy  a  new  hat  ; 

There  his  works  will  appear. 
"  Lady  Bluemount.  Sir,  they  reach  to  the  Ganges. 

"  Inkle.     I  sha'n't  go  so  far.     I  can  have  them  at  Grange's." 

Grange's  was  a  well-known  pastry-cook's  in  Piccadilly.  In 
Pierce  Egan's  Life  in  Londo?i  (ed.  1821),  p.  70,  note  i,  the 
author  writes,  "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."] 

2.  [Captain  Robert  Barclay  (i 779-1 854)  of  Ury,  agricul- 
turalist and  pedestrian,  came  of  a  family  noted  for  physical 

VOL.  I.  y 


32  2  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

His  Style  in  youth  or  age  is  still  the  same, 

For  ever  feeble  and  for  ever  tame. 

Triumphant  first  see  "  Temper's  Triumphs  "  shine  ! 

At  least  I'm  sure  they  triumphed  over  mine. 

Of  "  Music's  Triumphs,"  all  who  read  may  swear 

That  luckless  Music  never  triumphed  there.^ 

Moravians,  rise  !  bestow  some  meet  reward  ^ 
On  dull  devotion — Lo  !  the  Sabbath  Bard,  320 

strength  and  endurance.  Byron  saw  him  win  his  walk 
against  Wood  at  Newmarket.  (See  Angelo's  Refniniscences 
(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,  The  Eccentric  Review  (1812),  i.  133- 

150.)] 

1.  Hayley's  two  most  notorious  verse  productions  are 
Triumphs  of  Tejnper  and  The  Ti'iumph  of  Mitsic.  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  Pope's  advice  to  Wycherley  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. 

2.  [Lines  319-326  do  not  form  part  of  the  original  MS. 
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  British  Bards.  In  the  MS.  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  :— 

"  In  verse  most  stale,  unprofitable,  flat — 
Come,  let  us  change  the  scene,  and  ''glean'*  with  Pratt  ; 
In  him  an  author's  luckless  lot  behold, 
Condemned  to  make  the  books  which  once  he  sold  : 
Degraded  man  !  again  resume  thy  trade — 
The  votaries  of  the  Muse  are  ill  repaid. 
Though  daily  puffs  once  more  invite  to  buy 
A  new  edition  of  thy  '  Sympathy.' " 

"  Mr.  Pratt,  once  a  Bath  bookseller,  now  a  London  author, 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  323 

Sepulchral  Grahame/  pours  his  notes  sublime 
In  mangled  prose,  nor  e'en  aspires  to  rhyme ; 
Breaks  into  blank  the  Gospel  of  St.  Luke,'- 
And  boldly  pilfers  from  the  Pentateuch ; 
And,  undisturbed  by  conscientious  qualms, 
Perverts  the  Prophets,  and  purloins  the  Psalms. 

Hail,  Sympathy  !  thy  soft  idea  brings  "• 
A  thousand  visions  of  a  thousand  things, 
And  shows,  still  whimpering  through  threescore  of  years,'"- 
The  maudlin  prince  of  mournful  sonneteers.  330 

And  art  thou  not  their  prince,  harmonious  Bowles  !  2 
Thou  first,  great  oracle  of  tender  souls  ? 

i.  Breaks  into  mawkish  lines  each  holy  Book. — \^MS.  First  Ed i Hon.] 
ii.    Thy  ''Sympathy''  that.—{Briiish  Bards. \ 
iii.  And  shows  dissolved  in  sympathetic  tears. — 

in  thine  own  melting  tears. — 

\MS.     First  to  Fotirth  Editions.] 

has  written  as  much,  to  as  little  purpose,  as  any  of  his 
scribbling  contemporaries.  Mr.  P.'s  Sympathy  is  in 
rhyme  ;  but  his  prose  productions  are  the  most  voluminous." 
Samuel  Jackson  Pratt  (1749-1814),  actor,  itinerant  lecturer, 
poet  of  the  Cruscan  school,  tragedian,  and  novelist,  pub- 
lished a  large  number  of  volumes.  His  Gleanings  in 
England,  Holland,  Wales,  and  Westphalia  attained  some 
reputation.  His  Sympathy j  a  Poef?t  (1788)  passed  through 
several  editions.  His  pseudonym  was  Courtney  Melmoth. 
He  was  a  patron  of  the  cobbler-poet,  Blacket.] 

1.  Mr.  Grahame  has  poured  forth  two  volumes  of  Cant, 
under  the  name  of  Sabbath  Walks  and  Biblical  Pictures. 
[James  Grahame  (1765-1811),  a  lawyer,  who  subsequently 
took  Holy  Orders.  The  Sabbath,  a  poem,  was  published 
anonymously  in  1804  ;  and  to  a  second  edition  were  added 
Sabbath  Walks.     Biblical  Pictures  appeared  in  1807.] 

2.  [The  Rev.  W.  Lisle  Bowles  (1768-1850).  His  edition 
of  Pope's  Works,  in  ten  vols.,  which  stirred  Byron's  gall, 
appeared  in   1807.     The  Fall  oj  Empires,  Tyre,  Carthage, 


324  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Whether  thou  sing'st  with  equal  ease,  and  grief,*- 

The  fall  of  empires,  or  a  yellow  leaf; 

Whether  thy  muse  most  lamentably  tells 

What  merry  sounds  proceed  from  Oxford  bells," 

Or,  still  in  bells  delighting,  finds  a  friend 

In  every  chime  that  jingled  from  Ostend ; 

Ah  !  how  much  juster  were  thy  Muse's  hap, 

If  to  thy  bells  thou  would'st  but  add  a  cap  !  *"•      340 

Delightful  Bowles  !  still  blessing  and  still  blest. 

All  love  thy  strain,  but  children  like  it  best. 

'Tis  thine,  with  gentle  Little's  moral  song, 

To  soothe  the  mania  of  the  amorous  throng  ! 

L    Whether  in  sighing  zuiftds  thou  seek'st  relief 
Or  Consolation  in  a  yelloxu  leaf. — 

\^MS.     First  to  Fourth  Editions.] 
ii.    What  pretty  sounds. — [British  Bards.] 
iii.   Thou  fain  wouldsU . — {British  Bards.] 

etc.,  is  the  subject  of  part  of  the  third  book  of  The  Spirit  of 
Discovery  by  Sea  (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  iniages  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  English  Bards.,  etc.,  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  {Childe  Harold'' s  Last 
Pilgrimage) — 

"  So  Harold  ends,  in  Greece,  his  pilgrimage  ! 
There  fitly  ending — in  that  land  renown'd. 
Whose  mighty  Genius  lives  in  Glory's  page, — 
He  on  the  Muses'  consecrated  ground, 
Sinking  to  rest,  while  his  young  brows  are  bound 
With  their  unfading  wreath  !  " 
Among  his  poems  are  a  "  Sonnet  to  Oxford,"  and  "  Stanzas 
on  hearing  the  Bells  of  Ostend."] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  325 

With  thee  our  nursery  damsels  shed  their  tears, 

Ere  Miss  as  yet  completes  her  infant  years : 

But  in  her  teens  thy  whining  powers  are  vain ; 

She  quits  poor  Bowles  for  Little's  purer  strain. 

Now  to  soft  themes  thou  scornest  to  confine  '■ 

The  lofty  numbers  of  a  harp  like  thine ;  350 

"  Awake  a  louder  and  a  loftier  strain,"  ^ 

Such  as  none  heard  before,  or  will  again  ! 

AVhere  all  discoveries  jumbled  from  the  flood, 

Since  first  the  leaky  ark  reposed  in  mud, 

By  more  or  less,  are  sung  in  every  book, 

From  Captain  Noah  down  to  Captain  Cook. 

Nor  this  alone — but,  pausing  on  the  road. 

The  Bard  sighs  forth  a  gentle  episode,"-  ^ 

And  gravely  tells — attend,  each  beauteous  Miss  ! — 

When  first  Madeira  trembled  to  a  kiss.  360 

i.  Bu^  to  soft  themes. — \British  Bards,  First  Edition.'\ 
ii.    The  Bard  has  wove. — [British  Bards.] 

1.  "Awake  a  louder,"  etc.,  is  the  first  line  in  Bowles's 
Spirit  of  Discovery :  aver}'  spirited  and  pretty  dwarf  Epic. 
Among  other  exquisite  lines  we  have  the  following  : — 

"  A  kiss 

Stole  on  the  list'ning  silence,  never  yet 
Here  heard  ;  they  trembled  even  as  if  the  power,"  etc.,  etc. 
That  is,  the  woods  of  Madeira  trembled  to  a  kiss  ;  ver>'  much 
astonished,  as  well  they  might  be,  at  such  a  phenomenon. 

"Mis-quoted  and  misunderstood  by  me;  but  not  inten- 
tionally. It  was  not  the  '  woods,'  but  the  people  in  them 
who  trembled — why,  Heaven  only  knows — unless  they  were 
overheard  making  this  prodigious  smack." — B.,  18 16. 

2.  The  episode  above  alluded  to  is  the  stor)^  of  "  Robeit 
\  Machin"  and  "Anna  d'Arfet,"  a  pair  of  constant  lovers, 
who  performed  the  kiss  above  mentioned,  that  startled  the 
woods  of  Madeira.  [See  Byron's  letter  to  Murray,  Feb.  7, 
1 82 1,  "  On  Bowles'  Strictures,"  Life^  p.  688.] 


326  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Bowles  !  in  thy  memory  let  this  precept  dwell, 

Stick  to  thy  Sonnets,  Islan  ! — at  least  they  sell. 

But  if  some  new-born  whim,  or  larger  bribe. 

Prompt  thy  crude  brain,  and  claim  thee  for  a  scribe  : 

If  'chance  some  bard,  though  once  by  dunces  feared, 

Now,  prone  in  dust,  can  only  be  revered ; 

If  Pope,  whose  fame  and  genius,  from  the  first,'- 

Have  foiled  the  best  of  critics,  needs  the  worst. 

Do  thou  essay  :  each  fault,  each  failing  scan  ; 

The  first  of  poets  was,  alas  !  but  man.  370 

Rake  from  each  ancient  dunghill  ev'ry  pearl. 

Consult  Lord  Fanny,  and  confide  in  Curll  ;  ^ 

Let  all  the  scandals  of  a  former  age 

Perch  on  thy  pen,  and  flutter  o'er  thy  page ; 

Affect  a  candour  which  thou  canst  not  feel. 

Clothe  envy  in  the  garb  of  honest  zeal ; 

Write,  as  if  St.  John's  soul  could  still  inspire, 

And  do  from  hate  what  Mallet  2  did  for  hire. 

Oh  !  hadst  thou  lived  in  that  congenial  time. 

To  rave  with  Dennis,  and  with  Ralph  to  rhyme  ;3    ^80 

i.  If  Pope ^  since  mortal^  not  untaught  to  err 
Again  demand  a  dull  biographer. — [MS.^ 

1.  Curll  is  one  of  the  Heroes  of  the  Dimciad,  and  was 
a  bookseller.  Lord  Fanny  is  the  poetical  name  of  Lord 
Hervey,  author  of  Lines  to  the  hnitator  of  Horace. 

2.  Lord  Bolingbroke  hired  Mallet  to  traduce  Pope  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. 

3.  Dennis  the  critic,  and  Ralph  the  rhymester  : — 

"  Silence,  ye  Wolves  !  while  Ralph  to  Cynthia  howls, 
Making  Night  hideous  :  answer  him,  ye  owls  ! " 

D  UNCI  ad. 
[Book  1 1 1. 11. 165, 166.    Pope  wrote, ''  And  makes  night,"  etc.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  327 

Thronged  with  the  rest  around  his  Uving  head, 
Not  raised  thy  hoof  against  the  Hon  dead, 
A  meet  reward  had  crowned  thy  glorious  gains, 
And  linked  thee  to  the  Dunciad  for  thy  pains.^ 

I.  See  Bowles's  late  edition  of  Pope's  works,  for  which  he 
received  three  hundred  pounds.    [Twelve  hundred  guineas. — 
British  Bards.']     Thus   Mr.   B.  has  experienced  how  much 
easier  it  is  to  profit  by  the  reputation  of  another,  than  to 
elevate  his  own.     ["  Too  savage  all  this  on  Bowles,"  wrote 
Byron,  in  18 16,  but  he  afterwards  returned  to  his  original  sen- 
timents.   "  Although,"  he  says  (Feb.  7,  1821),  "  I  regret  having 
published  English  Bards,  aftd  Scotch  Reviewers,  the  part 
which  I  regret  the  least  is  that  which  regards  Mr.  Bowles, 
with  reference  to  Pope.     Whilst  I  was  writing  that  publica- 
tion, 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  out- 
line, and  felt  lazy,  I  requested  that  he  would  do  so.     He  did 
it.      His  fourteen  lines  on  Bowles's   Pope  are  in  the  first 
edition  of  English  Bards,  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  "  {Life,  pp.  688, 
689).   The  lines  supplied  by  Hobhouse  are  here  subjoined  : — 
"  Stick  to  thy  sonnets,  man  ! — at  least  they  sell. 
Or  take  the  only  path  that  open  lies 
For  modern  worthies  who  would  hope  to  rise  : 
Fix  on  some  well-known  name,  and,  bit  by  bit, 
Pare  off  the  merits  of  his  worth  and  wit : 
On  each  alike  employ  the  critic's  knife. 
And  when  a  comment  fails,  prefix  a  life  ; 
Hint  certain  failings,  faults  before  unknown, 
Review  forgotten  lies,  and  add  your  own  ; 
Let  no  disease,  let  no  misfortune  'scape. 
And  print,  if  luckily  deformed,  his  shape  : 
Thus  shall  the  world,  quite  undeceived  at  last, 
Cleave  to  their  present  wits,  and  quit  their  past ; 
Bards  once  revered  no  more  with  favour  view, 
But  give  their  modern  sonneteers  their  due  ; 
Thus  with  the  dead  may  living  merit  cope. 
Thus  Bowles  may  triumph  o'er  the  shade  of  Pope."] 


328         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Another  Epic  !     Who  inflicts  again 
More  books  of  blank  upon  the  sons  of  men  ? 
Boeotian  Cottle,  rich  Bristowa's  boast, 
Imports  old  stories  from  the  Cambrian  coast, 
And  sends  his  goods  to  market — all  alive  ! 
Lines  forty  thousand,  Cantos  twenty-five  !  390 

Fresh  fish  from  Hippocrene  !  ^  who'll  buy  ?  who'll  buy  ? 
The  precious  bargain's  cheap — in  faith,  not  I. 
Your  turtle-feeder's  verse  must  needs  be  flat,'* 
Though  Bristol  bloat  him  with  the  verdant  fat ; 
If  Commerce  fills  the  purse,  she  clogs  the  brain, 
And  Amos  Cottle  strikes  the  Lyre  in  vain. 
In  him  an  author's  luckless  lot  behold  ! 
Condemned  to  make  the  books  which  once  he  sold. 
Oh,  Amos  Cottle  !— Phoebus  !  what  a  name 
To  fill  the  speaking-trump  of  future  fame  ! —  400 

Oh,  Amos  Cottle  !  for  a  moment  think 
What  meagre  profits  spring  from  pen  and  ink ! 
When  thus  devoted  to  poetic  dreams, 
A\Tio  will  peruse  thy  prostituted  reams  ? 
Oh  !  pen  perverted  !  paper  misapplied  I 
Had  Cottle  ^  still  adorned  the  counter's  side, 


i.    Too  much  in  Turtle  BristoPs  sons  delight 

Too  much  ifi  Bowls  of  Rack  prolong  the  night. — 

\MS.     Second  to  Fourth  Editions.] 
Too  much  o'er  Boivls. — \Sec071d  arid  Third  Editions. 1 

1.  "'Helicon'  is  a  mountain,  and  not  a  fish-pond.  It 
should  have  been  '  Hippocrene.'" — B.,  1816.  [The  correction 
was  made  in  the  Fifth  Edition.] 

2.  Mr.  Cottle,  Amos,  Joseph,  I  don't  know  which,  but  one 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  329 

Bent  o'er  the  desk,  or,  born  to  useful  toils, 
Been  taught  to  make  the  paper  which  he  soils, 
Ploughed,  delved,  or  plied  the  oar  with  lusty  limb, 
He  had  not  sung  of  Wales,  nor  I  of  him.  410 

As  Sisyphus  against  the  infernal  steep 
Rolls  the  huge  rock  whose  motions  ne'er  may  sleep, 
So  up  thy  hill,  ambrosial  Richmond  !  heaves 

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 — Alfred  (poor  Alfred  !  Pye  has  been  at  him  too  !) — 
Alfred  and  the  Fall  of  Cambria. 

"All  right.  I  saw  some  letters  of  this  fellow  (]''■  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.,  1 8 16. 

[Compare  Poetry  of  the  Anti-Jacobin — 

"  And  Cottle,  not  he  whom  that  Alfred  made  famous. 
But  Joseph  of  Bristol,  the  brother  of  Amos." 

The  identity  of  the  brothers  Cottle  appears  to  have  been 
a  matter  beneath  the  notice  both  of  the  authors  of  the 
Anti-Jacobin  and  of  Byron.  Amos  Cottle,  who  died  in  1800 
(see  Lamb's  Letter  to  Coleridge  of  Oct.  9,  1800  ;  Letters 
of  C.  Lamb,  1888,  i.  140),  was  the  author  of  a  Translatioti  of 
the  Edda  of  Samund,  published  in  1797.  Joseph  Cottle, 
inter  alia,  published  Alfred  in  1801,  and  The  Fall  of 
Cambria,  1807.  An  Expostulatory  Epistle,  in  which  Joseph 
avenges  Amos  and  solemnly  castigates  the  author  of  Don 
Juan,  was  issued  in  18 19  (see  Lamb's  Letter  to  Cottle, 
Nov.  5,  1 8 19),  and  was  reprinted  in  the  Memoir  of  Amos 
Cottle,  inserted  in  his  brother's  Early  Recollections  of 
Colerid£-e  {London,  1837,  i.  119).  The  "unfortunate  poetess" 
was,  probably,  Ann  Yearsley,  the  Bristol  milk-woman. 
Wordsworth,  too  (see  Recollections  of  the  Table- Talk  of  S. 
Rogers,  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.] 


330         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Dull  Maurice  ^  all  his  granite  weight  of  leaves  : 

Smooth,  solid  monuments  of  mental  pain  ! 

The  petrifactions  of  a  plodding  brain, 

That,  ere  they  reach  the  top,  fall  lumbering  back  again. 

With  broken  lyre  and  cheek  serenely  pale, 
Lo  !  sad  Alcaeus  wanders  down  the  vale  ; 
Though  fair  they  rose,  and  might  have  bloomed  at  last, 
His  hopes  have  perished  by  the  northern  blast :        421 
Nipped  in  the  bud  by  Caledonian  gales. 
His  blossoms  wither  as  the  blast  prevails  ! 
O'er  his  lost  works  let  classic  Sheffield  weep ; 
May  no  rude  hand  disturb  their  early  sleep  !  ^ 


1.  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 
History  of  Ancient  atid  Moderjt  Hifidostan  was  severely 
attacked  in  the  Edinburgh  Review.  He  published  a  vin- 
dication of  his  work  in  1805.  He  must  have  confined  his 
dulness  to  his  poems  {Richmond  Hill  (1807),  etc.),  for  his 
Memoirs  (18 19)  are  amusing,  and,  though  otherwise  blame- 
less, he  left  behind  him  the  reputation  of  an  "  indiscriminate 
enjoyment"  of  Hterary  and  other  society.  Lady  Anne 
Hamilton  alludes  to  him  in  Epics  of  the  Ton  (1807), 
p.  165— 

"  Or  warmed  like  Maurice  by  Museum  fire. 
From  Ganges  dragged  a  hurdy-gurdy  lyre." 

He  was  assistant  keeper  of  MSS.  at  the  British  Museum 
from  1799  till  his  death.] 

2.  Poor  Montgomery,  though  praised  by  every  English 
Review,  has  been  bitterly  reviled  by  the  Edinburgh.  After 
all,  the  Bard  of  Shefifield  is  a  man  of  considerable  genius. 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         33 1 

Yet  say  !  why  should  the  Bard,  at  once,  resign  '• 
His  claim  to  favour  from  the  sacred  Nine  ? 
For  ever  startled  by  the  mingled  howl 
Of  Northern  Wolves,  that  still  in  darkness  prowl ; 
A  coward  Brood,  which  mangle  as  they  prey,       430 
By  hellish  instinct,  all  that  cross  their  way ; 
Ag^d  or  young,  the  living  or  the  dead,"- 
No  mercy  find — these  harpies  must  be  fed. 
Why  do  the  injured  unresisting  yield 
The  calm  possession  of  their  native  field  ? 
Why  tamely  thus  before  their  fangs  retreat. 
Nor  hunt  the  blood-hounds  back  to  Arthur's  Seat  ?  ^ 

i.  And  yet  why. — \British  Bards.] 
ii.   Or  old  or  young.  — \British  Bards.  ] 

His  Wanderer  of  Switzerland  \s  worth  a  thousand  Lyrical 
Ballads^  and  at  least  fifty  Degraded  Epics. 

[James  Montgomery  (1771-1854)  was  born  in  Ayrshire, 
but  settled  at  Sheffield,  where  he  edited  a  newspaper,  the  /rz>, 
a  radical  print,  which  brought  him  into  conflict  with  the 
authorities.  His  early  poems  were  held  up  to  ridicule  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review  by  Jeffrey,  in  Jan.  1807.  It  was  probably 
the  following  passage  which  provoked  Byron's  note  :  "  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."  The  Wan- 
derer of  Switzerland^  which  Byron  said  he  preferred  to  the 
Lyrical  Ballads,  v;diS  published  in  1806.  The  allusion  in  line 
419  is  to  the  first  stanza  of  The  Lyre — 

"  Where  the  roving  rill  meand'red 

Do^vn  the  green,  retiring  vale, 
Poor,  forlorn  Alcceus  wandered, 

Pale  with  thoughts — serenely  pale." 
He  is  remembered  chiefly  as  the  writer  of  some  ndmirablc 
hymns.     {Vide  ante,  p.  107,  "Answer  to  a  Beautiful  Poem," 
and  note.)] 

I.  Arthur's  Seat ;  the  hill  which  overhangs  Edinburgh. 


332         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Health  to  immortal  Jeffrey  !  once,  in  name, 
England  could  boast  a  judge  almost  the  same ;  ^ 
In  soul  so  like,  so  merciful,  yet  just,  440 

Some  think  that  Satan  has  resigned  his  trust. 
And  given  the  Spirit  to  the  world  again. 
To  sentence  Letters,  as  he  sentenced  men. 
With  hand  less  mighty,  but  with  heart  as  black. 
With  voice  as  willing  to  decree  the  rack ; 


I.  [Lines  439-527  are  not  in  the  MS.  The  first  draft  of 
the  passage  on  Jeffrey,  which  appears  to  have  found  a  place 
in  British  Bards  and  to  have  been  afterwards  cut  out, 
runs  as  follows  : — 

"  Who  has  not  heard  in  this  enlightened  age, 
When  all  can  criticise  the  historic  page, 
Who  has  not  heard  in  James's  Bigot  Reign 
Of  Jefferies  !  monarch  of  the  scourge,  and  chain, 
Jefferies  the  wretch  whose  pestilential  breath, 
Like  the  dread  Simoom,  winged  the  shaft  of  Death  ; 
The  old,  the  young  to  Fate  remorseless  gave 
Nor  spared  one  victim  from  the  common  grave  ? 

"  Such  was  the  Judge  of  James's  iron  time, 
When  Law  was  Murder,  Mercy  was  a  crime, 
Till  from  his  throne  by  weary  millions  hurled 
The  Despot  roamed  in  Exile  through  the  world. 

"  Years  have  rolled  on  ; — in  all  the  lists  of  Shame, 
Who  now  can  parallel  a  Jefferies'  name  ? 
With  hand  less  mighty,  but  with  heart  as  black 
With  voice  as  willing  to  decree  the  Rack, 
W^ith  tongue  envenomed,  with  intentions  foul 
The  same  in  name  and  character  and  soul." 

The  first  four  lines  of  the  above,  which  have  been  erased, 
are  to  be  found  on  p.  16  oi  British  Bards.  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.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         333 

Bred  in  the  Courts  betimes,  though  all  that  law 

As  yet  hath  taught  him  is  to  find  a  flaw, — 

Since  well  instructed  in  the  patriot  school 

To  rail  at  party,  though  a  party  tool — 

Who  knows  ?  if  chance  his  patrons  should  restore    450 

Back  to  the  sway  they  forfeited  before, 

His  scribbling  toils  some  recompense  may  meet, 

And  raise  this  Daniel  to  the  Judgment-Seat.^ 

Let  Jeffrey's  shade  indulge  the  pious  hope, 

And  greeting  thus,  present  him  with  a  rope : 

"  Heir  to  my  virtues  !  man  of  equal  mind  ! 

Skilled  to  condemn  as  to  traduce  mankind, 

This  cord  receive  !  for  thee  reserved  with  care, 

To  wield  in  judgment,  and  at  length  to  wear." 

Health  to  great  Jeffrey  !  Heaven  preserve  his  life, 
To  flourish  on  the  fertile  shores  of  Fife,  461 

And  guard  it  sacred  in  its  future  wars. 
Since  authors  sometimes  seek  the  field  of  Mars  ! 
Can  none  remember  that  eventful  day,'-  ^ 
That  ever-glorious,  almost  fatal  fray, 
A\'hen  Little's  leadless  pistol  met  his  eye,^ 
And  Bow-street  Myrmidons  stood  laughing  by  ? 

i.  Yes,  r m  sure  all  may . — \Qiiarto  Proof  Sheet.  \ 

1.  "  Too  ferocious — this  is  mere  insanity." — B.,  1816.    [The 
comment  applies  to  lines  432-453.] 

2.  "All  this  is  bad,  because  personal." — B.,  18 16. 

3.  In    1806,    Messrs.   Jeflrey   and   Moore    met    at    Chalk 
Farm.     The  duel  was  prevented  by  the  interference  of  the 


334         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Oh,  day  disastrous  !  on  her  firm-set  rock, 
Dunedin's  castle  felt  a  secret  shock  ; 
Dark  rolled  the  sympathetic  waves  of  Forth,         470 
Low  groaned  the  startled  whirlwinds  of  the  north ; 
Tweed  ruffled  half  his  waves  to  form  a  tear,   . 
The  other  half  pursued  his  calm  career ;  ^ 
Arthur's  steep  summit  nodded  to  its  base, 
The  surly  Tolbooth  scarcely  kept  her  place. 
The  Tolbooth  felt — for  marble  sometimes  can, 
On  such  occasions,  feel  as  much  as  man— 
The  Tolbooth  felt  defrauded  of  his  charms, 
If  Jeffrey  died,  except  within  her  arms  :  ^ 


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  com- 
batants."] 

[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  P^ifth  Edition  : — ] 

"  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 
ver)^  lately.  November  4,  18 11."  [As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  was 
Jeffrey's  pistol  that  was  found  to  be  leadless.] 

1.  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  appre- 
hension. 

2.  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 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  335 

The  sixteenth  story,  where  himself  was  born, 

His  patrimonial  garret,  fell  to  ground, 

And  pale  Edina  shuddered  at  the  sound  : 

Strewed  were  the  streets  around  with  milk-white  reams, 

Flowed  all  the  Canongate  with  inky  streams  ; 

This  of  his  candour  seemed  the  sable  dew, 

That  of  his  valour  showed  the  bloodless  hue  ; 

And  all  with  justice  deemed  the  two  combined 

The  mingled  emblems  of  his  mighty  mind. 

But  Caledonia's  goddess  hovered  o'er  490 

The  field,  and  saved  him  from  the  wrath  of  Moore ; 

From  either  pistol  snatched  the  vengeful  lead. 

And  straight  restored  it  to  her  favourite's  head  ; 

That  head,  with  greater  than  magnetic  power, 

Caught  it,  as  Danae  caught  the  golden  shower, 

And,  though  the  thickening  dross  will  scarce  refine, 

Augments  its  ore,  and  is  itself  a  mine. 

"  My  son,"  she  cried,  "  ne'er  thirst  for  gore  again, 

Resign  the  pistol  and  resume  the  pen  ; 

O'er  politics  and  poesy  preside,  500 

Boast  of  thy  country,  and  Britannia's  guide  ! 

For  long  as  Albion's  heedless  sons  submit, 

Or  Scottish  taste  decides  on  English  wit. 

So  long  shall  last  thine  unmolested  reign. 

Nor  any  dare  to  take  thy  name  in  vain. 

sex,  because  her  delicacy  of  feeling  on  this  day  was  truly 
feminine,  though,  like  most  feminine  impulses,  perhaps  a 
little  selfish. 


336         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Behold,  a  chosen  band  shall  aid  thy  plan, 
And  own  thee  chieftain  of  the  critic  clan. 
First  in  the  oat-fed  phalanx  ^  shall  be  seen 
The  travelled  Thane,  Athenian  Aberdeen."^ 
Herbert  shall  wield  Thor's  hammer,^  and  sometimes 
In  gratitude,  thou'lt  praise  his  rugged  rhymes.  511 

Smug  Sydney  *  too  thy  bitter  page  shall  seek, 


1.  [Line  508.  For  "oat-fed  phalanx,"  the  Quarto  Proof 
and  Editions  1-4  read  "  ranks  illustrious."  The  correction 
is  made  in  ATS.  in  the  Annotated  Edition.  It  was  suggested 
that  the  motto  of  the  Edinbtirgh  Review  should  have  been, 
"  Musam  tenui  meditamur  avena."] 

2.  His  Lordship  has  been  much  abroad,  is  a  member  of 
the  Athenian  Society,  and  reviewer  of  Cell's  Topography 
of  Troy.  [George  Gordon,  fourth  Earl  of  Aberdeen  (1784- 
1860),  published  in  1822  A?i  Inquiry  into  the  Principles 
of  Beauty  in  Grecian  Architecture.  His  grandfather  pur- 
chased 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.] 

3.  Mr.  Herbert  is  a  translator  of  Icelandic  and  other 
poetry.  One  of  the  principal  pieces  is  a  Song-  on  the 
Recovery  of  Thor''s  Hammer:  the  translation  is  a  pleasant 
chant  in  the  vulgar  tongue,  and  endeth  thus  : — 

"  Instead  of  money  and  rings,  I  wot, 
The  hammer's  bruises  were  her  lot. 
Thus  Odin's  son  his  hammer  got." 

[William  Herbert  (i 778-1 847),  son  of  the  first  Earl  of 
Carnarvon,  edited  Muscb  Etonenses  in  1795,  whilst  he  was 
still  at  school.  He  was  one  of  the  earliest  contributors  to 
the  Edinburgh  Review.  At  the  time  when  Byron  was  writing 
his  satire,  he  was  M.P.  for  Hampshire,  but  in  1814  he  took 
Orders.  H^  was  appointed  Dean  of  Manchester  in  1840,  and 
republished  his  poetical  works,  and  among  them  his  Icelandic 
Translations  or  Horce  Scandiccs  {Miscellaneous  Works,  2 
vols.),  in  1842.] 

4.  The  Rev.  Sydney  Smith,  the  reputed  Author  of  Peter 
Plymleys  Letters,  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 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         337 

And  classic  Hallam/  much  renowned  for  Greek ; 
Scott  may  perchance  his  name  and  influence  lend, 
And  paltry  Pillans^  shall  traduce  his  friend; 

Edinburgh  Review.    H  is  Letters  on  the  Catholicks^from  Peter 
Plymley  to  his  brother  Abraham^  appeared  in  1807-S.] 

1.  Mr.  Hallam  reviewed  Payne  Knight's  "  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. — 
\Note  added  to  Second  Edition.']  The  said  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  Holland's  performance,  I  am  glad  ;  because 
it  must  have  been  painful  to  read,  and  irksome  to  praise  it. 
If  Mr.  Hallam  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,  Hallam  must  stand  for  want 
of  a  better. 

[Henr}'  Hallam  (1777-1859),  author  oi  Europe  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  1808,  etc.  "  This,"  said  Byron,  "  is  the  style  in 
which  history  ought  to  be  written,  if  it  is  wished  to  impress 
it  on  the  memory  "  {Lady  Blessingtofi's  Cofiversations  with 
Lord  Byron,  1 834,  p.  2 1 3).  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  Diary,  \.  277),  or  repeated  what  Hodgson 
had  told  him  (see  Introduction,  and  Letter  102,  note  i). 

For  a  disproof  that   Hallam  wrote  the  article,  see   Gent. 
Mag.,  1830,  pt.  i.  p,  389  ;  and  for  an  allusion  to  the  mistake 
in  the  review,  compare  All  the  Talents,  p.  96,  and  ?iote. 
"Spare  me  not  Chronicles  and  Sunday  News, 
Spare  me  not  Pamphleteers  and  Scotch  Reviews.'''' 
''  The  best  literary  joke   I  recollect  is  its  [the  Mdin.  Rev.] 
attempting  to  prove  some  of  the  Grecian  Pindar  rank  non- 
sense, supposing  it  to  have  been  written  by  Mr.  P.  Knight."] 

2.  Pillans  is  a  [private,  MS.]  tutor  at  Eton.  [James 
Pillans  ( 1 778-1 864),  Rector  of  the  High  School,  and  Professor 
of  Humanity  in  the  University,  Edinburgh.  Byron  prob- 
ably assumed  that  the  review  of  Hodgson's  Translation  of 
Juvenal,  in  the  Edinburgh  Review,  April,  1808,  was  by  him.] 

vol.  I.  Z 


338  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

While  gay  Thalia's  luckless  votary,  Lamb,'-  ^ 
Damned  like  the  Devil — Devil-like  will  damn. 
Known  be  thy  name  !  unbounded  be  thy  sway  ! 
Thy  Holland's  banquets  shall  each  toil  repay ! 
While  grateful  Britain  yields  the  praise  she  owes       520 
To  Holland's  hirelings  and  to  Learning's  foes. 
Yet  mark  one  caution  ere  thy  next  Review 
Spread  its  light  wings  of  Saffron  and  of  Blue, 
Beware  lest  blundering  Brougham  ^  destroy  the  sale, 
Turn  Beef  to  Bannocks,  Cauliflowers  to  Kail." 

i.    While  Cloacina's  holy  pontiff  Lambe^ 

As  he  himself  'uas  damned  shall  tiy  to  damn, — {British  Bards.] 

1.  The  Honourable  G.  Lambe  reviewed  "  Beresford's 
Miseries,"  and  is  moreover  Author  of  a  farce  enacted  with 
much  applause  at  the  Prior}-,  Stanmore  ;  and  damned  with 
great  expedition  at  the  late  theatre,  Covent  Garden.  It  was 
entitled  Whistle  for  It.  [See  note,  ante.,  on  line  55.  His 
review  of  James  Beresford's  Miseries  of  Human  Life ;  or 
the  Last  Groans  of  Timothy  Testy  and  Samuel  Sensitive^ 
appeared  in  the  Edinburgh  Review  for  Oct,  1806.] 

2.  Mr.  Brougham,  in  No.  XXV.  of  the  Edinburgh  Review., 
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. 
— [Here  followed,  in  the  First  Edition  :  "  The  name  of  this 
personage  is  pronounced  Broom  in  the  south,  but  the  truly 
northern  and  musical  pronunciation  is  Brough-AM,  in  two 
syllables  ; "  but  for  this,  Byron  substituted  in  the  Second 
Edition  :  "  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." 

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  com- 
position of  Jeffrey  and  Brougham,  and  proved  a  turning-point 
in  the  political  development  of  the  Review?^ 

3.  We  have  heard  of  persons  who  "  when    the  Bagpipe 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  339 

Thus  having  said,  the  kilted  Goddess  kist 
Her  son,  and  vanished  in  a  Scottish  mist.^ 

Then  prosper,  Jeffrey  !  pertest  of  the  train  ^ 
Whom  Scotland  pampers  with  her  fiery  grain  ! 
^^^latever  blessing  waits  a  genuine  Scot,  530 

In  double  portion  swells  thy  glorious  lot ; 
For  thee  Edina  culls  her  evening  sweets, 
And  showers  their  odours  on  thy  candid  sheets, 
Whose  Hue  and  Fragrance  to  thy  work  adhere — 
This  scents  its  pages,  and  that  gilds  its  rear.^ 
Lo  !  blushing  Itch,  coy  nymph,  enamoured  grown, 
Forsakes  the  rest,  and  cleaves  to  thee  alone, 


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. — {^Note  to  Quarto  Proof  bound  up  with 
British  Bards. ^ 

1.  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  neigh- 
bours "  (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. 

2.  [Lines  528-539  appeared  for  the  first  time  in  the  Fifth 
Edition.] 

3.  Sec  the  colour  of  the  back  binding  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review. 


340         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And,  too  unjust  to  other  Pictish  men, 
Enjoys  thy  person,  and  inspires  thy  pen  ! 

Illustrious  Holland  !  hard  would  be  his  lot,    540 
His  hirelings  mentioned,  and  himself  forgot  1  ^ 
Holland,  with  Henry  Petty  2  at  his  back. 
The  whipper-in  and  huntsman  of  the  pack. 
Blest  be  the  banquets  spread  at  Holland  House, 
Where  Scotchmen  feed,  and  Critics  may  carouse ! 
Long,  long  beneath  that  hospitable  roof- 
Shall  Grub-street  dine,  while  duns  are  kept  aloof. 
See  honest  Hall  am  ^  lay  aside  his  fork, 
Resume  his  pen,  review  his  Lordship's  work, 
And,  grateful  for  the  dainties  on  his  plate,"-  550 

Declare  his  landlord  can  at  least  translate  !  * 

i.  Lol  long  beneath . — [Briiish  Bards.'] 

ii.  And  grateful  to  the  founder  of  the  feast 

Declare  his  landlord  can  translate  at  least. — 

[MS.     British  Bards,     l^rst  to  Fourth  Editions.] 

1.  "Bad  enough,  and  on  mistaken  grounds  too." — B., 
1 8 16.  [The  comment  applies  to  the  whole  passage  on  Lord 
Holland.] 

[Henry  Richard  Vassall,  third  Lord  Holland  (1773-1840), 
to  whom  Byron  dedicated  the  Bride  of  Abydos  (18 13).  His 
Life  of  Lope  de  Vega  (see  note  4.)  was  published  in  1806,  and 
Three  Coined ies  from  the  Spanish,  in  1807.] 

2.  [Henry  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.] 

3.  [See  note  i,  p.  337.] 

4.  Lord  Holland  has  translated  some  specimens  of  Lope 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         341 

Dunedin  !  view  thy  children  with  delight, 
They  write  for  food — and  feed  because  they  write :  '■ 
And  lest,  when  heated  with  the  unusual  grape, 
Some  glowing  thoughts  should  to  the  press  escape, 
And  tinge  with  red  the  female  reader's  cheek. 
My  lady  skims  the  cream  of  each  critique ; 
Breathes  o'er  the  page  her  purity  of  soul, 
Reforms  each  error,  and  refines  the  whole. ^ 

Now  to  the  Drama  turn — Oh !  motley  sight !        560 
What  precious  scenes  the  wondering  eyes  invite : 
Puns,  and  a  Prince  within  a  barrel  pent,"-  ^ 
And  Dibdin's  nonsense  yield  complete  content.^ 


i.  are  fed  because  they  7vrite. — {^British  Bards.} 

ii.  Princes  in  Barrels ^  Counts  in  arbours  pejit. — 

\^MS.    British  Bards.] 

de  Vega,  inserted  in  his  life  of  the  author.     Both  are  be- 
praised  by  his  disinterested  guests. 

1.  Certain  it  is,  her  ladyship  is  suspected  of  having  dis- 
played her  matchless  wit  in  the  Edinburgh  Reniew.  How- 
ever that  may  be,  we  know  from  good  authority,  that  the 
manuscripts  are  submitted  to  her  perusal — no  doubt,  for 
correction. 

2.  In  the  melo-drama  of  Tekeli.,  that  heroic  prince  is  clapt 
into  a  barrel  on  the  stage  ;  a  new  asylum  for  distressed 
heroes. — [In  the  MS.  and  British  Bards  the  note  stands 
thus  : — "  In  the  melodrama  of  Tekeli,  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  paltr)^  pro- 
ductions as  The  Fortress,  Music  Mad,  etc.  etc."  Theodore 
Hook  ( 1 788-1 841)  produced  Tekeli  in  1806.  Fortress  and 
Music  A f ad  wtre  played  in  1807.  He  had  written  some  eight 
or  ten  popular  plays  before  he  was  twenty-one.] 

3.  [  Vide  post,  1.  591,  note  3.] 


342  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Though  now,  thank  Heaven  !  the  Rosciomania's  o'er.^ 

And  full-grown  actors  are  endured  once  more ; 

Yet  what  avail  their  vain  attempts  to  please, 

While  British  critics  suffer  scenes  like  these ; 

While  Reynolds  vents  his  "  dammes  /  "  "  poohs  ! "  and 

"zounds!  "'-2 
And  common-place  and  common  sense  confounds  ? 
^\^ile  Kenney's^  "World" — ah!   where   is    Kenney's 

wit?"-—  570 

i.  His  "  damme,  poohs:'— [MS.     First  Edition.'^ 

ii.    IVhiie  Ke^tny's  World  jtist  suffered  to  proceed 
Proclaims  the  audience  very  kind  indeed. — 

\MS.     British  Bards.     First  to  Fourth  Editions. ^ 

1.  [William  Henry  West  Betty  (1791-1874)  ("the  Young 
Rosciiis  ")  made  his  first  appearance  on  the  London  stage  as 
Selim,  disguised  as  Achmet,  in  Bnrbarossa,  Dec.  i,  1804,  and 
his  last,  as  a  boy  actor,  in  Tancred,  and  Captain  Flash  in 
Afiss  in  her  Testis.,  Mar.  17,  1806,  but  acted  in  the  provinces 
till  1808.  So  great  was  the  excitement  on  the  occasion  of 
his  dibiit,  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.] 

2.  All  these  are  favourite  expressions  of  Mr.  Reynolds,  and 
prominent  in  his  comedies,  living  and  defunct.  [Frederick 
Reynolds  (i  764-1 841)  produced  nearly  one  hundred  plays, 
one  of  the  most  successful  of  which  was  The  Caravan,  or 
the  Driver  and  his  Dog.  The  text  alludes  to  his  endeavour 
to  introduce  the  language  of  ordinar}'  life  on  the  stage. 
Compare  The  Children  of  Apollo,  p.  9 — 

"  But  in  his  diction  Reynolds  grossly  errs  ; 
For  whether  the  love  hero  smiles  or  mourns, 
'Tis  oh  !  and  ah  !  and  ah  !  and  oh  !  by  turns."] 

3.  [James  Kenney  (i 780-1 849).  Among  his  very  numerous 
plays,  the  most  successful  were  Raisitig  the   Wind  (1803), 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  343 

Tires  the  sad  gallery,  lulls  the  listless  Pit ; 

And  Beaumont's  pilfered  Caratach  affords 

A  tragedy  complete  in  all  but  words  ?  ^ 

^Vho  but  must  mourn,  while  these  are  all  the  rage 

The  degradation  of  our  vaunted  stage  ? 

Heavens  !  is  all  sense  of  shame  and  talent  gone  ? 

Have  we  no  living  Bard  of  merit  ? — none  ? 

Awake,  George  Colman  l^  Cumberland,  awake  P 

Ring  the  alarum  bell !  let  folly  quake  ! 


and  Sweethearts  and  Wives  (1823).  The  J Vor/d  \va.s  brought 
out  at  Covent  Garden,  March  30,  1808,  and  had  a  consider- 
able run.  He  was  intimate  with  Charles  and  Mary  Lamb 
(see  Letters  of  Charles  Lamb,  ii.  16,  44).] 

1.  Mr.  T.  Sheridan,  the  new  Manager  of  Di-ur>'  Lane 
theatre,  stripped  the  Tragedy  of  Bonduca  \Caratach  in  the 
original  MSP^  of  the  dialogue,  and  exhibited  the  scenes  as 
the  spectacle  of  Caractacus.  Was  this  worthy  of  his  sire  .^  or 
of  himself.''  [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,  Avas 
author  of  several  plays.  His  Bonduca  was  played  at  Covent 
Garden,  May  3,  1808.  The  following  answer  to  a  real  or 
fictitious  correspondent,  in  the  European  Magazine  for 
May,  1808,  is  an  indication  of  contemporar}^  opinion  : 
"  The  Fishwoman's  letter  to  the  author  of  Caractacus  on  the 
art  of  gutting  is  inadmissible."  For  anecdotes  of  Thomas 
Sheridan,  see  Angelo's  Reminiscences,  1828,  ii.  170-175.  See, 
too.  Epics  of  the  Ton,  p.  264.] 

2.  [George  Colman,  the  younger  (1762-1836),  wrote  nu- 
merous dramas,  several  of  which,  e.g.  The  Iron  Chest  (1796), 
Joht  Bull  (1803),  The  Hcir-at-Lazv  (1808),  have  been 
popular  with  more  than  one  generation  of  playgoers.  An 
amusing  companion,  and  a  favourite  at  Court,  he  Avas 
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.  John  Bull  is  referred 
to  in  Hints  f?'0!n  Horace,  line  166.] 

3.  [Richard  Cumberland  (1732-1811),  the  original  of  Sir 
Fretful   Plagiary  in    The  Critic,   a  man  of  varied  abilities, 


344         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Oh  !  Sheridan  !  if  aught  can  move  thy  pen,  580 

Let  Comedy  assume  her  throne  again ;  '• 

Abjure  the  mummery  of  German  schools ; 

Leave  new  Pizarros  to  translating  fools ;  ^ 

Give,  as  thy  last  memorial  to  the  age, 

One  classic  drama,  and  reform  the  stage. 

Gods  !  o'er  those  boards  shall  Folly  rear  her  head, 

Where  Garrick  trod,  and  Siddons  lives  to  tread  ?  "•  ^ 

On  those  shall  Farce  display  Buffoonery's  mask. 

And  Hook  conceal  his  heroes  in  a  cask  ?  ^ 

Shall  sapient  managers  new  scenes  produce  590 


i.  Resttiiie  her  throne  again. — 

\MS.    British  Bards.     First  to  Fotirth  Editions. '\ 

ii.  and  Keinble  lives  to  tread. — 

{British  Bards.     First  to  Fourth  Editions.'] 

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  The  West  I?idia7t,  The  Wheel  of 
For  time,  and  llie  Jeiv.  He  published  his  Memoirs  in 
1806-7.] 

1.  [Sheridan's  translation  of  Pizarro,  by  Kotzebue,  was  first 
played  at  Drury  Lane,  1799.  Southey  wrote  of  it,  "  It  is 
impossible  to  sink  below  Pizarro.  Kotzebue's  play  might 
have  passed  for  the  worst  possible  if  Sheridan  had  not  proved 
the  possibility  of  making  it  worse  "  (Southey's  Letters,  i.  87). 
Gifford  alludes  to  it  in  a  note  to  The  Mceviad  as  "  the  trans- 
lation so  maliciously  attributed  to  Sheridan."] 

2.  [In  all  editions,  previous  to  the  fifth,  it  Avas,  "  Kemble 
lives  to  tread."  Byron  used  to  say,  that,  of  actors,  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."  Such  eflect,  however,  had 
Kean's  acting  on  his  mind,  that  once,  on  seeing  him  play 
Sir  Giles  Overreach,  he  was  seized  with  a  fit-] 

3.  [See  supra,  line  562.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         345 

From  Cherry,^  Skeffington,'^  and  Mother  Goose  ? '  ^ 
While  Shakespeare,  Otway,  Massinger,  forgot, 
On  stalls  must  moulder,  or  in  closets  rot  ? 
Lo  !  with  what  pomp  the  daily  prints  proclaim 


i.  S^.  George^  and  Goody  Goose  divide  the  prize. — 

\^MS.  alternative  i7i  British  Bards.  ^ 

1.  [Andrew  Cherry  (1762-18 12)  acted  many  parts  in 
Ireland  and  in  the  provinces,  and  for  a  few  years  appeared 
at  Dniry  Lane.  He  was  popular  in  Dublin,  where  he  was 
known  as  "  Little  Cherry."  He  was  painted  as  Lazarillo 
in  Jephson's  T7vo  Strings  to  Vour  Bow.  He  wrote  The 
Travellers  (1806),  Peter  the  Great  (1807),  and  other  plays.] 

2.  Mr.  [now  Sir  Lumley]  Skeftington  is  the  illustrious 
author  of  The  Sleeping  Beauty ;  and  some  comedies,  par- 
ticularly Maids  a?id  Bachelors:  Baccalaurii  baculo  magis 
quam  lauro  digni. 

[Lumley  St.  George  (afterwards  Sir  Lumley)  Skeffington 
( 1 768-1 850).  Besides  the  plays  mentioned  in  the  note,  he 
wrote  The  Maid  of  Hofiour  (1803)  and  The  Mysterious 
Bride  (1808).  Amatory  Verses.^  by  Tom  Shuffleton  of  the 
Middle  Temple  (18 15),  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  English  Bards.  "  Great 
Skeffington  "  was  a  great  dandy.  According  to  Capt.  Gronow 
{Re?niniscejices,  i.  63),  "  he  used  to  paint  his  face  so  that  he 
looked  like  a  French  toy  ;  he  dressed  a  la  Robespierre,  and 
practised  all  the  foUies  ;  .  .  .  was  remarkable  for  his  polite- 
ness and  courtly  manners.  .  .  .  You  always  knew  of  his 
approach  by  an  avant  courier  of  sweet  smell."  His  play 
The  Sleepijig  Beauty  had  a  considerable  vogue.] 

3.  [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  The  Jew  and  the  Doctor  (1798).  His 
pantomime.  Mother  Goose,  in  which  Grimaldi  took  a  part, 
was  played  at  Covent  Garden  in  1807,  and  is  said  to  have 
brought  the  management  ;!{^20,ooo.] 

4.  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  British  Bards?[ 


346         ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

The  rival  candidates  for  Attic  fame  ! 

In  grim  array  though  Lewis'  spectres  rise, 

Still  Skeffington  and  Goose  divide  the  prize. 

And  sure  great  Skeffington  must  claim  our  praise, 

For  skirtless  coats  and  skeletons  of  plays 

Renowned  alike ;  whose  genius  ne'er  confines  600 

Her  flight  to  garnish  Greenwood's  gay  designs ;  *■  ^ 

Nor  sleeps  with  "  Sleeping  Beauties,"  but  anon 

In  five  facetious  acts  comes  thundering  on. 

While  poor  John  Bull,  bewildered  with  the  scene. 

Stares,  wondering  what  the  devil  it  can  mean ; 

But  as  some  hands  applaud,  a  venal  few ! 

Rather  than  sleep,  why  John  applauds  it  too. 

Such  are  we  now.     Ah  !  wherefore  should  we  turn 
To  what  our  fathers  were,  unless  to  mourn  ? 
Degenerate  Britons  !  are  ye  dead  to  shame,  6 1  o 

Or,  kind  to  dulness,  do  you  fear  to  blame  ? 
Well  may  the  nobles  of  our  present  race 
Watch  each  distortion  of  a  Naldi's  face ; 
Well  may  they  smile  on  Italy's  buffoons, 
And  worship  Catalan I's  pantaloons,^ 

i.  Its  humble  flight  to  splendid  Pa>itomtmes.^— [British  Bards.    MS.] 

1.  Mr.  Greenwood  is,  we  believe,  scene-painter  to  Drury 
Lane  theatre — as  such,  Mr.  Skeffington  is  much  indebted 
to  him. 

2.  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) 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         347 

Since  their  own  Drama  yields  no  fairer  trace 
Of  wit  than  puns,  of  humour  than  grimace.^ 

Then  let  Ausonia,  skill'd  in  every  art 
To  soften  manners,  but  corrupt  the  heart, 
Pour  her  exotic  follies  o'er  the  town,  620 

To  sanction  Vice,  and  hunt  Decorum  down  : 
Let  wedded  strumpets  languish  o'er  Deshayes, 
And  bless  the  promise  which  his  form  displays ; 

made  his  d^biit  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. 
1 785-1 849),  a  famous  soprano,  Italian  by  birth  and  training, 
made  her  debut  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  Se?niramide,  in 
1806.  Her  large  salar)^  was  one  of  the  causes  which 
provoked  the  O.  P.  (Old  Prices)  Riots  in  December,  1809,  at 
Covent  Garden.  Praed  says  of  his  Ball  Roo7n  Belle — 
"  She  warbled  Handel  :  it  was  grand  ; 
She  made  the  Catalani  jealous."] 
I,  [Moore  says  that  the  following  twenty  lines  were  struck 
oft"  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 
/  Villegiato7'i  Rezzani,  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  extrava- 
ganza, Do7i  Qiiichotle,  oh  les  Noces  de  Gamache.  In  the 
corps  de  ballet  were  Deshayes,  for  many  years  master  of  the 
ballet  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. — Mortihig-  Chronicle.  December  30, 
1810),  and  Mademoiselle  Angiolini,  "elegant  of  figure, /^/zV^, 
but  finely  formed,  with  the  manner  of  Vestris."  Made- 
moiselle Presle  does  not  seem  to  have  taken  part  in  D071 
Quichotte;  but  she  was  \vell  known  as  premiere  dafiseuse  in 
La  Belle  Laitiere^  La  Fete  Chi?ioise,  and  other  ballets.] 


348         ENGLISH   BARDS,   AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

While  Gayton  bounds  before  th'  enraptured  looks 

Of  hoary  Marquises,  and  stripling  Dukes  : 

Let  high-bom  lechers  eye  the  lively  Presle 

Twirl  her  light  limbs,  that  spurn  the  needless  veil ; 

Let  Angiolini  bare  her  breast  of  snow. 

Wave  the  white  arm,  and  point  the  pliant  toe ; 

Collini  trill  her  love-inspiring  song,  630 

Strain  her  fair  neck,  and  charm  the  listening  throng ! 

Whet  ^  not  your  scythe,  Suppressors  of  our  Vice  ! 

Reforming  Saints  !  too  delicately  nice  ! 

By  whose  decrees,  our  sinful  souls  to  save. 

No  Sunday  tankards  foam,  no  barbers  shave ; 

And  beer  undrawn,  and  beards  unmown,  display 

Your  holy  reverence  for  the  Sabbath-day. 

Or  hail  at  once  the  patron  and  the  pile 
Of  vice  and  folly,  Greville  and  Argyle  !  - 

1.  [For  "whet"  Editions  1-5  read  "raise."  Lines  632-637 
are  marked  "  good  "  in  the  Annotated  Fourth  Edition.] 

2.  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. 

A  gentleman,  with  whom  I  am  slightly  acquainted,  lost  in 
the  Argyle  Rooms  several  thousand  pounds  at  Backgammon.* 
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-Bails  rattling  in  one  room, 

*  "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. 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  349 

Where  yon  proud  palace,  Fashion's  hallowed  fane,  640 

Spreads  wide  her  portals  for  the  motley  train, 

Behold  the  new  Petronius  ^  of  the  day,'- 

Our  arbiter  of  pleasure  and  of  play  ! 

There  the  hired  eunuch,  the  Hesperian  choir, 

The  melting  lute,  the  soft  lascivious  lyre. 

The  song  from  Italy,  the  step  from  France,     /^^---^ 

The  midnight  orgy,  and  the  mazy  dance, 

The  smile  of  beauty,  and  the  flush  of  wine, 

For  fops,  fools,  gamesters,  knaves,  and  Lords  combine  : 

Each  to  his  humour — Comus  all  allows ;  650 

Champaign,  dice,  music,  or  your  neighbour's  spouse. 

Talk  not  to  us,  ye  starving  sons  of  trade  ! 

Of  piteous  ruin,  which  ourselves  have  made ; 

In  Plenty's  sunshine  Fortune's  minions  bask. 

Nor  think  of  Poverty,  except  "  en  masque,"  ^ 

When  for  the  night  some  lately  titled  ass 

i.  Behold  the  new  Petronius  of  the  times 

The  skilful  Arbiter  of  modern  crimes, — \MS.\ 

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.  [The 
Argyle  Institution,  founded  by  Colonel  Greville,  flourished 
many  years  before  the  Argyll  Rooms  were  built  by  Nash  in 
1 818.  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  Life,,  pp.  160,  161).] 

1.  Petronius,  "Arbiter  elegantiarum "  to  Nero,  "and  a 
very  pretty  fellow  in  his  day,"  as  Mr.  Congreve's  "  Old 
Bachelor"  saith  of  Hannibal. 

2.  ["  We  are  authorised  to  state  that  Mr.  Greville,  who  has  a 


350         ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Appears  the  beggar  which  his  grandsire  was, 

The  curtain  dropped,  the  gay  Burletta  o'er, 

The  audience  take  their  turn  upon  the  floor : 

Now  round  the  room  the  circling  dow'gers  sweep,    660 

Now  in  loose  waltz  the  thin-clad  daughters  leap ; 

The  first  in  lengthened  line  majestic  swim. 

The  last  display  the  free  unfettered  limb  ! 

Those  for  Hibernia's  lusty  sons  repair 

With  art  the  charms  which  Nature  could  not  spare ; 

These  after  husbands  wing  their  eager  flight, 

Nor  leave  much  mystery  for  the  nuptial  night. 

Oh  !  blest  retreats  of  infamy  and  ease, 
Where,  all  forgotten  but  the  power  to  please, 
Each  maid  may  give  a  loose  to  genial  thought,         670 
Each  swain  may  teach  new  systems,  or  be  taught : 
There  the  blithe  youngster,  just  returned  from  Spain, 
Cuts  the  light  pack,  or  calls  the  rattling  main ; 
The  jovial  Caster's  set,  and  seven's  the  Nick, 
Or — done  ! — a  thousand  on  the  coming  trick  ! 
If,  mad  with  loss,  existence  'gins  to  tire, 
And  all  your  hope  or  wish  is  to  expire, 
Here's  Powell's  ^  pistol  ready  for  your  life. 
And,  kinder  still,  two  Pagets  for  your  wife  :*• 

i.  a  Paget  for  your  zvife.—\MS.     First  to  Fourth  Editions. '\ 

small  party  at  his  private  assembly  rooms  at  the  Arg>1e,  will 
receive  from  10  to  12  [p.m.]  masks  who  have  Mrs.  Chichester's 
Institution  tickets. — Morning  Post,  June  7,  1809.] 
I.  [See  note  on  line  686,  infra.'] 


ENGLISH    BARDS     AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  35 1 

Fit  consummation  of  an  eaithly  race  680 

Begun  in  folly,  ended  in  disgrace, 

\Vhile  none  but  menials  o'er  the  bed  of  death, 

Wash  thy  red  wounds,  or  watch  thy  wavering  breath : 

Traduced  by  liars,  and  forgot  by  all. 

The  mangled  victim  of  a  drunken  brawl. 

To  live  like  Clodius,^  and  like  Falkland  fall.^ 


1.  Clodius — "  Mutato  nomine  de  te  Fabula  narratur." — 
[^1/6'.]  [The  allusion  is  to  the  well-known  incidents  of  his 
intrigue  with  Pompeia,  Caesars  wife,  and  his  sacrilegious 
intrusion  into  the  mysteries  of  the  Bona  Dea.  The  Romans 
had  a  proverb,  "  Clodius  accuset  Moechos  ? "  (Juv.,  Sat.  ii.  27). 
That  "  Steenie  "  should  lecture  on  the  "  turpitude  of  incon- 
tinence !  "  (The  Fortunes  of  Nigel,  cap.  xxxii.)] 

2.  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  v.'orthy  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." — MSP\  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  countr}'men  as  an 
example  to  succeeding  heroes. 

[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  para- 
graph in  the  Morning  Post,  March  2,  1809  :  *'  Lord  Falkland, 
after  hearing  the  surgeon's    opinion,  said  with  a   faltering 


\ 


352         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

I'ruth  !  rouse  some  genuine  Bard,  and  guide  his  hand 
To  drive  this  pestilence  from  out  the  land. 
E'en  I — least  thinking  of  a  thoughtless  throng, 
Just  skilled  to  know  the  right  and  choose  the  wrong,    690 
Freed  at  that  age  when  Reason's  shield  is  lost, 
To  fight  my  course  through  Passion's  countless  host,^ 
W^hom  every  path  of  Pleasure's  flow'ry  way 
Has  lured  in  turn,  and  all  have  led  astray — 
E'en  I  must  raise  my  voice,  e'en  I  must  feel 
Such  scenes,  such  men,  destroy  the  public  weal : 
Altho'  some  kind,  censorious  friend  will  say, 
"  What  art  thou  better,  meddling  fool,''  than  they  ?  " 
And  every  Brother  Rake  will  smile  to  see 
That  miracle,  a  MoraUst  in  me.  700 

No  matter — when  some  Bard  in  virtue  strong, 
Gifford  perchance,  shall  raise  the  chastening  song, 
Then  sleep  my  pen  for  ever  !  and  my  voice 
Be  only  heard  to  hail  him,  and  rejoice, 
Rejoice,  and  yield  my  feeble  praise,  though  I 
May  feel  the  lash  that  Virtue  must  apply. 

As  for  the  smaller  fry,  who  swarm  in  shoals 
From  silly  Hafiz  up  to  simple  Bowles,^ 

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.'  "] 

1.  "Yes  :  and  a  precious  chase  they  led  me." — B.,  1816. 

2.  "  Fool  enough,  certainly,  then,  and   no  wiser  since." — 
B.,  1816. 

3.  What  would  be  the  sentiments  of  the  Persian  Anacreon, 
Hafiz,  could  he  rise  from  his  splendid   sepulchre  at  Sheeraz 


ENGLISH    DARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  353 

Why  should  we  call  them  from  their  dark  abode, 

In  broad  St.  Giles's  or  in  Tottenham-Road  ?  710 

Or  (since  some  men  of  fashion  nobly  dare 

To  scrawl  in  verse)  from  Bond-street  or  the  Square  ?  '• 

If  things  of  Ton  their  harmless  lays  indite, 

Most  wisely  doomed  to  shun  the  public  sight, 

What  harm  ?  in  spite  of  every  critic  elf, 

Sir  T.  may  read  his  stanzas  to  himself; 

Miles  Andrews  *  still  his  strength  in  couplets  try, 

And  live  in  prologues,  though  his  dramas  die. 

Lords  too  are  Bards  :  such  things  at  times  befall, 

And  'tis  some  praise  in  Peers  to  write  at  all.  720 

Yet,  did  or  Taste  or  Reason  sway  the  times, 

Ah  !  who  would  take  their  titles  \nth  their  rhymes  ?  2 

i.  From  Grosvenor  Place  or  Scjtiare. — \MS.     British  Bards. 1 
(where  he  reposes  with  Ferdousi  and  Sadi,  the  Oriental 
Homer  and  Catullus),  and  behold  his  name  assumed  by  one 
Stott  of  Dromore,  the  most  impudent  and  execrable  of 
literary  poachers  for  the  Daily  Prints  ? 

1.  [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  Better  Late  tha7t  Never 
(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  The  Baviad^  1.  10  ;  and  in  a  note  Gifford 
satirizes  his  prologue  to  Lorenzo,  and  describes  him  as  an 
"  industrious  paragraph-monger."] 

2.  [In  a  manuscript  fragment,  bound  in  the  same  volume 
as  British  Bards,  we  find  these  lines  : — 

"  In  these,  our  times,  with  daily  wonders  big, 
A  Lettered  peer  is  like  a  lettered  pig ; 
Both  know  their  Alphabet,  but  who,  from  thence. 
Infers  that  peers  or  pigs  have  manly  sense  .'* 
Still  less  that  such  should  woo  the  graceful  nine  ; 
Parnassus  was  not  made  for  lords  and  swine."] 
VOL.  I.  2   A 


354  ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND  SCOTCH   REVIEWERS. 

Roscommon  !  ^  Sheffield  !  -  with  your  spirits  fled  ^ 

No  future  laurels  deck  a  noble  head ; 

No  Muse  will  cheer,  with  renovating  smile, 

The  paralytic  puling  of  Carlisle.'  ^ 


i.   On  one  alone  Apollo  deigfis  to  smile 

And  crowns  a  neiv  Roscomtnon  in  Carlisle. 

\^MS.  Addition  to  British  Bards.  \ 
Nor  e'en  a  hackneyed  Afuse  zvill  deign  to  smile 
On  minor  Byn'on,  or  matu7-e  Carlisle. — [First  Edition.] 

1.  [Wentworth  Dillon,  4th  Earl  of  Roscommon  (1634-1685), 
author  of  many  translations  and  minor  poems,  endeavoured 
(circ.  1663)  to  found  an  English  literary  academy.] 

2.  [John  Sheffield,  Earl  of  Mulgrave  (1658),  Marquis  of 
Normanby  (1694),  Duke  of  Buckingham  (1703)  (1649-1721), 
wrote  an  Essay  iipon  Poetry.,  and  several  other  works.] 

3.  [Lines  727-740  were  added  after  British  Bards  had 
been  printed,  and  are  included  in  the  First  Edition,  but  the 
appearance  in  British  Bards  of  lines  723-726  and  741-746, 
Avhich  have  been  cut  out  from  Mr.  Murray's  MS.,  forms  one 
of  many  proofs  as  to  the  identity  of  the  text  of  the  MS.  and 
the  printed  Quarto.] 

4.  [Frederick  Howard,  5th  Earl  of  Carlisle,  K.G.  (1748- 
1825),  Viceroy  of  Ireland,  1 780-1 782,  and  Privy  Seal,  etc., 
published  Tragedies  and  Poems ^  1801.  He  was  Byron's 
first  cousin  once  removed,  and  his  guardian.  Poems 
Original  and  Translated  were  dedicated  to  Lord  Carlisle, 
and,  as  an  erased  MS.  addition  to  British  Bards  testifies, 
he  was  to  have  been  excepted  from  the  roll  of  titled 
poetasters — 

"  Ah,  who  would  take  their  titles  from  their  rhymes  ? 
On  07ie  alone  Apollo  deigns  to  smile, 
And  crowns  a  new  Roscommon  in  Carlisle." 

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  ex- 
claimed, "  I  did  not  know  it ;  and  would  not,  could  not,  if  I 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  355 

The  puny  schoolboy  and  his  early  lay 

Men  pardon,  if  his  follies  pass  away ; 

But  who  forgives  the  Senior's  ceaseless  verse. 

Whose  hairs  grow  hoary  as  his  rhymes  grow  worse  ?    730 

What  heterogeneous  honours  deck  the  Peer  ! 

Lord,  rhymester,  petit-maitre,  pamphleteer  !  ^ 

So  dull  in  youth,  so  drivelling  in  his  age. 

His  scenes  alone  had  damned  our  sinking  stage  ; 

But  Managers  for  once  cried,  "  Hold,  enough  !  " 

Nor  drugged  their  audience  with  the  tragic  stuff. 

Yet  at  their  judgment  let  his  Lordship  laugh,'- 

And  case  his  volumes  in  congenial  calf; 


i.    Yet  at  their  fiat 

Yet  at  their  nausea . — [J/i",  Addition  to  British  Bards.  \ 

had.  I  must  naturally  be  the  last  person  to  be  pointed  on 
defects  or  maladies," 

In  1 8 14  he  consulted  Rogers  on  the  chance  of  conciliating 
Carlisle,  and  in  Childe  Harold,  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  {Co?tversations,  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  {vide post,  p.  370,  note  2).] 

I.  The  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 
Thoughts  upo?i  the  prese7it  condition  of  the  stage,  and  2ipon 
the  construction  of  a  new  Theatre,  anon.  1808.] 

[Lirie  732.  None  of  the  earlier  editions,  including  the  fifth 
and  Murray,  1831,  insert  "and"  between  "petit-maitre"  and 
*'  pamphleteer."  No  doubt  Byron  sounded  the  final  syllable 
of  "  maitre,"  anglice  "  maiter."] 


356  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Yes  !  doff  that  covering,  where  Morocco  shines, 

And  hang  a  calf-skin  on  those  recreant  lines.^  740 

With  you,  ye  Druids  !  rich  in  native  lead, 
Who  daily  scribble  for  your  daily  bread : 
With  you  I  war  not :  Gifford's  heavy  hand 
Has  crushed,  without  remorse,  your  numerous  band. 
On  "  All  the  Talents  "  vent  your  venal  spleen ;  "^ 
Want  is  your  plea,  let  Pity  be  your  screen. 
Let  Monodies  on  Fox  regale  your  crew, 
And  Melville's  Mantle  ^  prove  a  Blanket  too  ! 


1.  "  Doff  that  lion's  hide, 

And  hang  a  calf-skin  on  those  recreant  limbs." 

Shakespeare,  Ki?ig  John. 

Lord   Carlisle's  works,   most  resplendently  bound,  form   a 
conspicuous  ornament  to  his  book-shelves  : — 

"  The  rest  is  all  but  [only,  MS?^  leather  and  prunella." 

"  Wrong  also — the  provocation  was  not  sufficient  to  justify 
such  acerbity." — B.,  1816. 

2.  All  the  Blocks,  or  an  Antidote  to  ''  All  the  Talents i^''  by 
Flagellum  (W.  H.  Ireland),  London,  1807  :  The  Groan  of 
the  Talents,  or  Private  Sentiments  on  Public  Occasions, 
1807;  "  Gr — vile  Agonistes,  A  Dramatic  Poem,  1807,  etc., 
etc." 

3.  "Melville's  Mantle,"  a  parody  on  Elijahs  Mantle,  a 
poem.  \ElijaKs  Mantle,  being  verses  occasioned  by  the  death 
of  that  illustriotis  statesman,  the  Right  Hon.  W.  Pitt. 
Dedicated  to  the  Right  Rev.  the  Lord  Bishop  of  Lincoln 
(1807),  was  written  by  James  Sayer.  Melville^ s  Mantle, 
bei7ig  a  Parody  on  the  poem  entitled  "  Elijah^s  Matitle^ 
was  published  by  Budd,  1807.  A  Monody  on  the  death  of 
the  R.  H.  C.  J.  Fox,  by  Richard  Payne  Knight,  was  printed 
for  J.  Payne,  1806-7.  Another  "Monody,"  Lines  writtcfi  07i 
returning  from  the  Funeral  of  the  R.  H.  C.  J .  Fox,  Friday 
Oct.  10,  1806,  addressed  to  Lord  Holland,  was  by  M.  G. 
Lewis,  and  there  were  others.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  357 

One  common  Lethe  waits  each  hapless  Bard, 

And,  peace  be  with  you  !  'tis  your  best  reward.        750 

Such  damning  fame ;  as  Dunciads  only  give  '• 

Could  bid  your  lines  beyond  a  morning  live ; 

But  now  at  once  your  fleeting  labours  close, 

With  names  of  greater  note  in  blest  repose. 

Far  be't  from  me  unkindly  to  upbraid 

The  lovely  Rosa's  prose  in  masquerade, 

Whose  strains,  the  faithful  echoes  of  her  mind, 

Leave  wondering  comprehension  far  behind.^ 

Though  Crusca's  bards  no  more  our  journals  fill,^ 

Some  stragglers  skirmish  round  the  columns  still;    760 

Last  of  the  howling  host  which  once  was  Bell's,'** 

Matilda  snivels  yet,  and  Hafiz  yells ; 


i.  Such  sneering  fame. — ^British  Bards. '\ 

ii.    Though  Bell  has  lost  his  nightingales  and  owlsy 

Matilda  snivels  still  and  Hafiz  hoivls. 

And  Ci'ii sea's  spirit  rising fj-om  the  dead 

Revives  in  Laura,  Quiz,  and  X.  Y.  Z. — 

{British  Bards.     First  to  Third  Editions,  iSlo.] 

1.  This  lovely  little  Jessica,  the  daughter  of  the  noted  Jew 
King,  seems  to  be  a  follower  of  the  Delia  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  The  Mofik. 

"  She  since  married  the  Morning-  Post — an  exceeding 
good  match  ;  and  is  now  dead — which  is  better." — B.,  18 16. 
[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,  Retn.  (1889),  i. 
132-136).     (See  note  i,  p.  358.)] 

2.  [Lines  759,  760  were  added  for  the  first  time  in  the 
Fourth  Edition.] 


358  ENGLISH   BARDS,   AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And  Merry's  ^  metaphors  appear  anew, 
Chained  to  the  signature  of  O.  P.  Q.' 


1.  [Lines  756-764,  with  variant  ii.,  refer  to  the  Delia  Cruscan 
school,  attacked  by  Gifford  in  The  Baviad  and  The  Maviad. 
Robert  Merry  (1755-1798),  together  with  Mrs.  Piozzi,  Bertie 
Greatheed,  William  Parsons,  and  some  Italian  friends,  formed 
a  literary  society  called  the  Oziosi  at  Florence,  where  they 
published  The  Ar7io  Miscella^iy  (1784)  and  The  Florence 
Aliscellany  (1785),  consisting  of  verses  in  which  the  authors 
"  say  kind  things  of  each  other"  (Preface  to  The  Florence 
Miscellany,  hy  Mrs.  Piozzi).  In  1787  Merry,  who  had  become 
a  member  of  the  Delia  Cruscan  Academy  at  Florence, 
returned  to  London,  and  wrote  in  the  World  (then  edited  by 
Captain  Topham)  a  sonnet  on  ''  Love,"  under  the  signature 
of  "  Delia  Crusca."  He  was  answered  by  Mrs.  Hannah 
Cowley,  ne'e  Parkhouse  (i  743-1 809),  famous  as  the  authoress 
of  The  BelWs  Stratagern  (acted  at  Covent  Garden  in  1782), 
in  a  sonnet  called  "  The  Pen,"  signed  "Anna  Matilda."  The 
poetical  correspondence  which  followed  was  published  in 
The  British  Album  (1789,  2  vols.)  by  John  Bell.  Other 
writers  connected  with  the  Delia  Cruscan  school  were 
"Perdita"  Robinson,  «<?V  Darby  (1758-1800),  who  pubHshed 
The  Mistletoe  (1800)  under  the  pseudonym  "  Laura  Maria," 
and  to  whom  Merrj^  addressed  a  poem  quoted  by  Gifford  in 
The  Baviad  {note  to  line  284)  ;  Charlotte  Dacre,  who  married 
Byrne,  Robinson's  successor  as  editor  of  the  Morning  Post, 
wrote  under  the  pseudonym  of  "Rosa  Matilda,"  and  pub- 
lished poems  {Hours  of  Solitude,  1805)  and  numerous  novels 
{Confessions  of  the  Nun  of  St.  Omer''s,  1805  ;  Zofioya;  The 
Libertine,  etc.) ;  and  "  Hafiz"  (Robert  Stott,  of  the  Mor7ii?ig 
Post).  Of  these  writers,  "  Delia  Crasca  "  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  The  British  Album, 
was  also  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  Mor^mig  Post,  the 
Oracle,  and  the  World,  in  all  of  which  the  Delia  Cruscans 
wrote.  His  "  Owls  and  Nightingales "  are  explained  by  a 
reference  to  The  Baviad  (1.  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."] 

2.  These  are  the  signatures  of  various  worthies  who  figure 
in  the  poetical  departments  of  the  newspapers. 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH   REVIEWERS.  359 

When  some  brisk  youth,  the  tenant  of  a  stall 
Employs  a  pen  less  pointed  than  his  awl, 
Leaves  his  snug  shop,  forsakes  his  store  of  shoes, 
St.  Crispin  quits,  and  cobbles  for  the  Muse, 
Heavens  !  how  the  vulgar  stare  !  how  crowds  applaud  ! 
How  ladies  read,  and  Literati  laud  !  ^  770 

If  chance  some  wicked  wag  should  pass  his  jest, 
'Tis  sheer  ill-nature — don't  the  world  know  best  ? 
Genius  must  guide  when  wits  admire  the  rhyme, 
And  Capel  Lofft  -  declares  'tis  quite  sublime. 

1.  "  This  was  meant  for  poor  Blackett,  who  was  then 
patronised  by  A.  I.  B."  (Lady  Byron)  ;  "but  that  I  did  not 
know,  or  this  would  not  have  been  written,  at  least  I  think 
not."— B.,  1816. 

[Joseph  Blacket  (1786-1810),  said  by  Southey  {Letters^ 
i.  172)  to  possess  "force  and  rapidity,"  and  to  be  en- 
dowed 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  Remains  in  18 11),  and  was 
befriended  by  the  Milbanke  family.  Miss  Milbanke,  after- 
wards 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  con- 
versation. 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.,  1 8 10,  at  the  age  of  twenty-three.  (See  Byron's 
letter  to  Dallas,  June  28,  1811  ;  his  Epitaph  for  Joseph 
Blackett;  and  Hints  from  Horace^  1.  734.)] 

2.  Capel  Loftt,  Esq.,  the  Maecenas  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. 

[Capel  Lofft  (175 1-1824),  jurist,  poet,  critic,  and  horticul- 
turist, honoured  himself  by  his  kindly  patronage  of  Robert 


360  ENGLISH    BARDS,  AND    SCOTCH  REVIEWERS. 

Hear,  then,  ye  happy  sons  of  needless  trade  ! 

Swains  !  quit  the  plough,  resign  the  useless  spade  ! 

Lo  !  Burns  and  Bloomfield,  nay,  a  greater  far, 

GiFFORD  was  born  beneath  an  adverse  star, 

Forsook  the  labours  of  a  servile  state, 

Stemmed  the  rude  storm,  and  triumphed  over  Fate  : 

Then  why  no  more?  if  Phoebus  smiled  on  you,        781 

Bloomfield  !  why  not  on  brother  Nathan  too  ? 

Him  too  the  Mania,  not  the  Muse,  has  seized ; 

Not  inspiration,  but  a  mind  diseased  : 

And  now  no  Boor  can  seek  his  last  abode, 

No  common  be  inclosed  without  an  ode. 

Oh  !  since  increased  refinement  deigns  to  smile 

On  Britain's  sons,  and  bless  our  genial  Isle, 

Let  Poesy  go  forth,  pervade  the  whole, 

Alike  the  rustic,  and  mechanic  soul  !  790 

Ye  tuneful  cobblers  !  still  your  notes  prolong. 

Compose  at  once  a  slipper  and  a  song ; 

So  shall  the  fair  your  handywork  peruse. 

Your  sonnets  sure  shall  please — perhaps  your  shoes. 

Bloomfield  (i 766-1 823),  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  The  Fa7'mer''s  Boy^  which  was  published  (1798) 
with  the  help  of  Lofft.  He  also  wrote  Rural  Tales  (1802), 
Good  Tidings;  or  News  from  the  Farm  (1804),  The  Batiks 
of  the  Wye  (18 11),  etc.  (See  Hints  from  Horace^  line  734, 
notes  I  and  2.)] 

I.  See  Nathaniel  Bloomfi eld's  ode,  eleg)%  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. — Poems  (1803).] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  36 1 

May  Moorland  weavers  ^  boast  Pindaric  skill, 
And  tailors'  lays  be  longer  than  their  bill  ! 
While  punctual  beaux  reward  the  grateful  notes, 
And  pay  for  poems — when  they  pay  for  coats. 

To  the  famed  throng  now  paid  the  tribute  due,'- 
Neglected  Genius  !  let  me  turn  to  you.  800 

Come  forth,  oh  Campbell  !  give  thy  talents  scope ; 
Who  dares  aspire  if  thou  must  cease  to  hope  ? 
And  thou,  melodious  Rogers  !  rise  at  last, 
Recall  the  pleasing  memory  of  the  past ;  '^ 

i.  A^one  since  the  past  have  claimed  the  tribute  due. — 

[British  Bards.     MS.] 

1.  Vide  Recollections  of  a  Weaver  in  the  Mooj'lands  of 
Staffordshire.  [The  exact  title  is  The  Moorland  Bard j  or 
Poetical  Recollections  of  a  Weaver.,  etc.  2  vols.,  1807.  The 
author  was  T.  Bakewell,  who  also  wrote  A  Domestic  Guide 
to  l7tsanit}',  1805.] 

2.  It  would  be  superfluous  to  recall  to  the  mind  of  the 
reader  the  authors  of  The  Pleasures  of  Memory  and  The 
Pleasures  of  Hope.,  the  most  beautiful  didactic  poems  in 
our  language,  if  we  except  Pope's  Essay  on  Man  :  but  so 
many  poetasters  have  started  up,  that  even  the  names  of 
Campbell  and  Rogers  are  become  strange. — [Beneath  this 
note  Byron  scribbled,  in  18 16, — 

"  Pretty  Miss  Jaqueline 

Had  a  nose  aquiline, 

And  would  assert  rude 

Things  of  Miss  Gertrude, 

While  Mr.  Marmion 

Led  a  great  army  on, 

Making  Kehama  look 

Like  a  tierce  Mameluke." 
"  I  have  been  reading,"  he  says,  in  18 13,  Me^nory  again, 
and  Hope  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  1 8 16,  Byron  remarks,  "Rogers  has  not  fulfilled  the 
promise  of  his  first  poems,  but  has  still  veiy  great  merit."] 


362         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Arise  !  let  blest  remembrance  still  inspire, 

And  strike  to  wonted  tones  thy  hallowed  lyre ; 

Restore  Apollo  to  his  vacant  throne, 

Assert  thy  country's  honour  and  thine  own. 

"What !  must  deserted  Poesy  still  weep 

Where  her  last  hopes  with  pious  Cowper  sleep?  810 

Unless,  perchance,  from  his  cold  bier  she  turns, 

To  deck  the  turf  that  wraps  her  minstrel,  Burns  ! 

No  !  though  contempt  hath  marked  the  spurious  brood. 

The  race  who  rhyme  from  folly,  or  for  food. 

Yet  still  some  genuine  sons  'tis  hers  to  boast. 

Who,  least  affecting,  still  affect  the  most :  •• 

Feel  as  they  write,  and  write  but  as  they  feel — ■ 

Bear  witness  Gifford,^  Sotheby,^  Macneil.^ 

i.  From  AlbiotCs  cliffs  to  Caledoiiia's  coast. 

Some  few  who  knoiu  to  write  as  zvell  as  feel. — [J/S.] 

1.  GiFFORD,  author  of  the  Baviad  2indi  McBviad,  the  first 
satires  of  the  day,  and  translator  of  Juvenal,  [and  one  (though 
not  the  best)  of  the  translators  of  Juvenal. — British  Bards.] 

2.  Sotheby,  translator  of  Wieland's  Oberon  and  Virgil's 
Georgics,  and  author  of  Saul,  an  epic  poem.  [William 
Sotheby  (1757-1833)  began  hfe  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  Oberon  appeared  in  1798,  and  of  the 
Georgics  in  1800.  Said  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"  {Diary,  1821  ; 
IVorks,  p.  509,  note).  He  is  "the  solemn  antique  man  of 
rhyme  "  {Beppo,  St.  Ixiii.),  and  the  "  Botherby  "  of  The  Blues; 
and  in  Doii  Juan,  Canto  I.  st.  ccvi.,  we  read — 

"  Thou  shalt  not  covet  Mr.  Sotheby's  house 
His  Pegasus  nor  anything  that's  liis."] 

3.  Macneil,  whose  poems  are  deservedly  popular,  par- 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  363 

*'  Why  slumbers  Gifford  ?  "  once  was  asked  in  vain  ; 
Why  slumbers  Gifford?  let  us  ask  again.^  820 

Are  there  no  follies  for  his  pen  to  purge  ? 
Are  there  no  fools  whose  backs  demand  the  scourge  ? 
Are  there  no  sins  for  Satire's  Bard  to  greet  ? 
Stalks  not  gigantic  Vice  in  every  street  ? 
Shall  Peers  or  Princes  tread  Pollution's  path, 
And  'scape  alike  the  Laws  and  Muse's  wrath  ? 
Nor  blaze  with  guilty  glare  through  future  time, 
Eternal  beacons  of  consummate  crime  ? 
Arouse  thee,  Gifford  !  be  thy  promise  claimed, 
Make  bad  men  better,  or  at  least  ashamed.  830 

Unhappy  White  !  ^  while  life  was  in  its  spring, 
And  thy  young  Muse  just  waved  her  joyous  wing, 

ticularly  "  Scotland's  Scaith,"  and  the  "  Waes  of  War,"  of 
which  ten  thousand  copies  were  sold  in  one  month.  [Hector 
Macneil  (1746-1816)  wrote  in  defence  of  slavery  in  Jamaica, 
and  was  the  author  of  several  poems  :  Scotland's  Skaith,  or 
the  History  of  Will  aiid  Jean  (1795),  The  Waes  of  War,  or 
the  Upshot  of  the  History  of  Will  a?id  Jean  (1796),  etc.,  etc.] 

1.  Mr.  Gifford  promised  publicly  that  the  Baviad  and 
McEviad  should  not  be  his  last  original  works  :  let  him  re- 
member, "  Mox  in  reluctantes  dracones."  [Cf  AVw  Morality, 
lines  29-42.] 

2.  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. 

[H.  K.  White  (1785-1806)  published  Clifton  Grove  and 
other  poems  in  1803.  Two  volumes  of  his  Retnains,  consist- 
ing of  poems,  letters,  etc.,  with  a  life  by  Southey,  were  issued 


364         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

The  Spoiler  swept  that  soaring  Lyre  away,'  ^ 

^Vhich  else  had  sounded  an  immortal  lay. 

Oh  !  what  a  noble  heart  was  here  undone, 

When  Science'  self  destroyed  her  favourite  son  ! 

Yes,  she  too  much  indulged  thy  fond  pursuit, 

She  sowed  the  seeds,  but  Death  has  reaped  the  fruit. 

'Twas  thine  own  Genius  gave  the  final  blow, 

And  helped  to  plant  the  wound  that  laid  thee  low  :  840 

So  the  struck  Eagle,  stretched  upon  the  plain. 

No  more  through  rolling  clouds  to  soar  again, 

Viewed  his  own  feather  on  the  fatal  dart. 

And  winged  the  shaft  that  quivered  in  his  heart ; 

Keen  were  his  pangs,  but  keener  far  to  feel 

He  nursed  the  pinion  which  impelled  the  steel ; 

While  the  same  plumage  that  had  warmed  his  nest 

Drank  the  last  life-drop  of  his  bleeding  breast. 

There  be  who  say,  in  these  enlightened  days, 
That  splendid  lies  are  all  the  poet's  praise;  850 

i.    The  spoiler  came  ;  and  all  thy  promise  fair 
Has  sought  the  grave ,  to  sleep  for  ever  there. — 

{^First  to  Fourth  Editions.] 

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  dis- 
tinguished undergraduate  after  the  Senate  house  examina- 
tion, he  would  represent  her  as  concealing  a  Death's  head 
under  a  mask  of  Beauty  "  {Life  of  H.  K.  IV.,  by  Southey,  i. 
45).  By  "the  soaring  lyre,  which  else  had  sounded  an 
immortal  lay,"  Byron,  perhaps,  refers  to  the  unfinished 
C/irisliad,  which,  says  Southey,  "  Henry  had  most  at  heart."] 
I.  [Lines  832-834,  as  they  stand  in  the  text,  were  inserted 
in  MS.  in  both  the  Annotated  Copies  of  the  Fourth  Edition.] 


ENGT-ISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         365 

That  Strained  Invention,  ever  on  the  wing. 
Alone  impels  the  modern  Bard  to  sing : 
'Tis  tme,  that  all  who  rhyme — nay,  all  who  write, 
Shrink  from  that  fatal  word  to  Genius — Trite ; 
Yet  Truth  sometimes  will  lend  her  noblest  fires, 
And  decorate  the  verse  herself  inspires  : 
This  fact  in  Virtue's  name  let  Crabbe  ^  attest ; 
Though  Nature's  sternest  Painter,  yet  the  best. 

And  here  let  Shee  ^  and  Genius  find  a  place, 
Whose  pen  and  pencil  yield  an  equal  grace ;         860 
To  guide  whose  hand  the  sister  Arts  combine, 
And  trace  the  Poet's  or  the  Painter's  line ; 
Whose  magic  touch  can  bid  the  canvas  glow, 
Or  pour  the  easy  rhyme's  harmonious  flow ; 
While  honours,  doubly  merited,  attend'- 
The  Poet's  rival,  but  the  Painter's  friend. 

Blest  is  the  man  who  dares  approach  the  bower 
Where  dwelt  the  Muses  at  their  natal  hour ; 


i.   On  him  may  meritorious  honours  tend 
While  doubly  mingling. — \^MS.  erased. \ 

1.  "  I  consider  Crabbe  and  Coleridge  as  the  first  of 
these  times,  in  point  of  power  and  genius." — B.,  1816. 

2.  Mr.  Shee,  author  of  Rhymes  on  Art  and  Ele7ne7its  of 
Art.  [Sir  Martin  Archer  Shee  (1770-1850)  was  President  of 
the  Royal  Academy  (1830-45).  His  Rhymes  on  Art  (1805) 
and  Ele7nents  of  Art  (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,  Harry 
Calverley^  and  other  works.] 


366  ENGLISH    BARDS,   AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Whose  Steps  have  pressed,  whose  eye  has  marked  afar, 

The  dime  that  nursed  the  sons  of  song  and  war,      870 

The  scenes  which  Glory  still  must  hover  o'er, 

Her  place  of  birth,  her  own  Achaian  shore. 

But  doubly  blest  is  he  whose  heart  expands 

With  hallowed  feelings  for  those  classic  lands ; 

Who  rends  the  veil  of  ages  long  gone  by, 

And  views  their  remnants  with  a  poet's  eye ! 

Wright  !  ^  'twas  thy  happy  lot  at  once  to  view 

Those  shores  of  glory,  and  to  sing  them  too ; 

And  sure  no  common  Muse  inspired  thy  pen 

To  hail  the  land  of  Gods  and  Godlike  men.  880 

And  you,  associate  Bards  !  -  who  snatched  to  light  ^ 
Those  gems  too  long  withheld  from  modern  sight ; 


i.  And  you  united  Bards. — [MS.  Addition  to  British  Bards. ^ 
And  you  ye  nameless.— [AIS.  erased.'] 

1.  Mr.  Wright,  late  Consul-General  for  the  Seven  Islands, 
is  author  of  a  very  beautiful  poem,  just  published  :  it  is 
entitled  HorcE  loniccB^  and  is  descriptive  of  the  isles  and  the 
adjacent  coast  of  Greece.  [Walter  Rodwell  Wright  was 
afterwards  President  of  the  Court  of  Appeal  in  Malta,  where 
he  died  in  1826.  Horce  lonicce,  a  Poem  descriptive  of  the 
Io7iian  Islands,  and  Part  of  the  Adjacent  Coast  of  Greece, 
was  published  in  1809.  He  is  mentioned  in  one  of  Byron's 
long  notes  to  Childe  Harold,  canto  ii.,  dated  Franciscan 
Convent,  Mar.  17,  18 11.] 

2.  The  translators  of  the  Anthology  have  since  published 
separate  poems,  which  evince  genius  that  only  requires 
opportunity  to  attain  eminence.  [The  Rev.  Robert  Bland 
(1779-1825)  pubHshed,  in  1806,  Translations  chiefly  from  the 
Greek  Aftthology,  with  Tales  afid  Miscellaneous  Poe^ns. 
In  these  he  was  assisted  (see  Life  of  the  Rev.  Francis 
Hodgson,  vol.  i.  pp.  226-260)  by  Denman  (afterwards  Chief 
Justice),    by    Hodgson    himself,   and,   above  all,  by  John 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  367 

Whose  mingling  taste  combined  to  cull  the  wreath 
A\Tiile  Attic  flowers  Aonian  odours  breathe, 
And  all  their  renovated  fragrance  flung, 
To  grace  the  beauties  of  your  native  tongue  ; 
Now  let  those  minds,  that  nobly  could  transfuse 
The  glorious  Spirit  of  the  Grecian  Muse, 
Though  soft  the  echo,  scorn  a  borrowed  tone  :  '• 
Resign  Achaia's  lyre,  and  strike  your  own.  890 

Let  these,  or  such  as  these,  with  just  applause,"- 
Restore  the  Muse's  violated  laws ; 
But  not  in  flimsy  Darwin's  ^  pompous  chime,"'- 
That  mighty  master  of  unmeaning  rhyme. 
Whose  gilded  cymbals,  more  adorned  than  clear. 
The  eye  delighted,  but  fatigued  the  ear, 


i.    Translation's  servile  work  at  length,  disown 
And  quit  Achaia's  Muse  to  court  your  own. — 

IMS.  Addition  to  British  Bards.} 
ii.  Let  these  arise  and  anxious  of  applause. — 

{British  Bards.     MS.\ 
iii.  But  not  in  heavy. — {British  Bards.     MS.] 

Herman  Merivale  (1779-1844),  who  subsequently,  in  1813, 
was  joint  editor  with  him  of  Collectiojis  frovi  the  Greek 
Anthology^  etc.] 

I.  [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." — Ani7na  Poelcs,  1895,  p.  5.  His  chief 
works  are  The  Botanic  Garden  (1789-92)  and  The  Temple 
of  Nature  (1803).  Byron's  censure  of  The  Botanic  Garden 
is  inconsistent  with  his  principles,  for  Darwin's  verse  was 
strictly  modelled  on  the  lines  of  Pope  and  his  followers. 
But  the  Loves  of  the  Triangles  had  laughed  away  the  Loves 
of  the  Plants.'] 


368         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

In  show  the  simple  lyre  could  once  surpass, 
But  now,  worn  down,  appear  in  native  brass ; 
While  all  his  train  of  hovering  sylphs  around 
Evaporate  in  similes  and  sound  :  900 

Him  let  them  shun,  with  him  let  tinsel  die : 
False  glare  attracts,  but  more  oifends  the  eye.^ 

Yet  let  them  not  to  vulgar  Wordsworth  2  stoop, 
The  meanest  object  of  the  lowly  group. 
Whose  verse,  of  all  but  childish  prattle  void, 
Seems  blessed  harmony  to  Lamb  and  Lloyd  :  ^ 


1.  The  neglect  of  The  Botanic  Garden  is  some  proof  of 
returning  taste.     The  scenery  is  its  sole  recommendation. 

2.  [This  was  not  Byron's  mature  opinion,  nor  had  he  so 
expressed  himself  in  the  review  of  Wordsworth's  Poevis 
which  he  contributed  to  Crosby's  Magazine  in  1807  {Life^ 
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  Childe  Harold,  canto  iii.  stanzas  72,  et  seqq.).'\ 

3.  Messrs.  Lamb  and  Lloyd,  the  most  ignoble  followers  of 
Southey  and  Co.  [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  Poems  on  the  Death  of  Priscilla 
Fa7'7?ier,  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  Poems,  published 
in  1797  ;  and  in  1798  they  brought  out  a  joint  volume  of 
their  own  composition,  named  Poems  iii  Blank  Verse. 
Ed7nund  Oliver,  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  Anti-Jacobin,  where  Lamb  and 


ENGLISH   BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  369 

Let  them — but  hold,  my  Muse,  nor  dare  to  teach 

A  strain  far,  far  beyond  thy  humble  reach : 

The  native  genius  with  their  being  given 

Will  point  the  path,  and  peal  their  notes  to  heaven.     910 

And  thou,  too,  Scott  !  ^  resign  to  minstrels  rude 
The  wilder  Slogan  of  a  Border  feud  : 
Let  others  spin  their  meagre  lines  for  hire ; 
Enough  for  Genius,  if  itself  inspire  ! 
Let  SouTHEY  sing,  altho'  his  teeming  muse,'- 
Prolific  every  spring,  be  too  profuse ; 
Let  simple  Wordsworth  ^  chime  his  childish  verse, 
And  brother  Coleridge  lull  the  babe  at  nurse  ;  "• 
Let  Spectre-mongering  Lewis  aim,  at  most,"'- 
To  rouse  the  Galleries,  or  to  raise  a  ghost;  920 


i.  Let  prurient  Southey  cease. — \MS.     British  Bards.  ^ 

ii.  sHll  the  babe  at  nurse, — \^MS.\ 

—         Let  Lewis  fill  our  nurseries  luilh  alarm 

With  tales  that  oft  disgust  aiid  fiever  charm. 
iii.  But  thou  with potvers. — [MS.     British  Bards.] 

Lloyd  are  classed  with  Coleridge  and  Southey  as  advocates 
of  French  socialism  : — 

"  Coleridge  and  Southey,  Lloyd  and  Lamb  and  Co., 
Tune  all  your  mystic  harps  to  praise  Lepaux." 

In  later  life  Byron  expressed  a  very  different  opinion  of 
Lamb's  literary  merits.  (See  the  preface  to  Werner,  now  first 
published,  Poetical  Works,  1901,  v.  339.)] 

r.  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. 

2.  **  Unjust."— B.,  18 16.  [In  Frost  at  Midnight,  first 
published  in  1798,  Coleridge  twice  mentions  his  "Cradled 
infant."] 

VOL.  L  2    B 


370         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

Let  Moore  still  sigh ;  let  Strangford  steal  from  Moore/- 

And  swear  that  Camoens  sang  such  notes  of  yore  ; 

Let  Hayley  hobble  on,  Montgomery  rave, 

And  godly  Grahame  chant  a  stupid  stave  ; 

Let  sonneteering  Bowles  ^  his  strains  refine, 

And  whine  and  whimper  to  the  fourteenth  line ; 

Let  Stott,  Carlisle,^  Matilda,  and  the  rest 

i.  Let  iSIooRE  be  leiud ;  let  Strangford  steal Jrom  Moore. — 

\_MS.     First  to  Fourth  Editions. 'X 

1.  [The  Rev.  W.  L.  Bowles  {vide  ante,  p.  323,  note  2), 
published,  in  1789,  Fourteen  Sonnets  written  chiefly  on 
Picturesque  Spots  during  a  yourney.] 

2.  It  may  be  asked,  why  I  have  censured  the  Earl  of 
Carlisle,  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  Carlisle  :  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  : — 

"  What  can  ennoble  knaves,  or  fools,  or  cowards  ? 
Alas  !  not  all  the  blood  of  all  the  Howards." 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.         37 1 

Of  Grub  Street,  and  of  Grosvenor  Place  the  best, 

Scrawl  on,  'till  death  release  us  from  the  strain. 

Or  Common  Sense  assert  her  rights  again  ;  930 

But  Thou,  with  powers  that  mock  the  aid  of  praise, 

Should'st  leave  to  humbler  Bards  ignoble  lays  : 

Thy  country's  voice,  the  voice  of  all  the  Nine, 

Demand  a  hallowed  harp — that  harp  is  thine. 

Say  !  will  not  Caledonia's  annals  yield 

The  glorious  record  of  some  nobler  field, 

Than  the  vile  foray  of  a  plundering  clan. 

Whose  proudest  deeds  disgrace  the  name  of  man  ? 

Or  Marmion's  acts  of  darkness,  fitter  food 

For  Sherwood's  outlaw  tales  of  Robin  Hood  ?  '•      940 

Scotland  !  still  proudly  claim  thy  native  Bard, 

And  be  thy  praise  his  first,  his  best  reward  ! 

Yet  not  with  thee  alone  his  name  should  live, 

But  own  the  vast  renown  a  world  can  give ; 

Be  known,  perchance,  when  Albion  is  no  more, 

And  tell  the  tale  of  what  she  was  before ; 

To  future  times  her  faded  fame  recall. 

And  save  her  glory,  though  his  country  fall. 

Yet  what  avails  the  sanguine  Poet's  hope, 
To  conquer  ages,  and  with  time  to  cope  ?  950 

New  eras  spread  their  wings,  new  nations  rise, 

i.   For  outlawed  Sherii'ood's  tales.— \MS.    Brit.  Bards.     Eds.  i-^.^ 

So  says  Pope.     Amen  !— "  Mucli  too  savage,  whatever  the 
foundation  might  be.'' — B'.,  18 16. 


372         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And  other  Victors  fill  th'  applauding  skies ;  ^ 

A  few  brief  generations  fleet  along, 

Whose  sons  forget  the  Poet  and  his  song : 

E'en  now,  what  once-loved  Minstrels  scarce  may  claim 

The  transient  mention  of  a  dubious  name  ! 

When  Fame's  loud  trump  hath  blown  its  noblest  blast, 

Though  long  the  sound,  the  echo  sleeps  at  last ; 

And  glory,  like  the  Phcenix  ^  midst  her  fires. 

Exhales  her  odours,  blazes,  and  expires.  960 

Shall  hoary  Granta  call  her  sable  sons. 

Expert  in  science,  more  expert  at  puns  ? 

Shall  these  approach  the  Muse  ?  ah,  no  !  she  flies, 

Even  from  the  tempting  ore  of  Seaton's  prize  ;  '• 

Though  Printers  condescend  the  press  to  soil 

With  rhyme  by  Hoare,^  and  epic  blank  by  Hoyle  :  "•  ■* 

i.  And  even  spurns  the  great  Scatonian  prize. — 

\MS.     First  to  Fourth  Editions  (a  correction  in  the 
Annotated  Copy),] 
ii.    With  odes  by  Smyth  *  and  epic  songs  by  Hoyle, 
Hoyle  zvhose  learned  page,  if  still  upheld  by  whist 
Required  no  sacred  theme  to  bid  us  list. — 

{MS.     British  Bards.] 

1.  Line  952.     Note — 

"  Tollere  humo,  victorque  virum  volitare  per  ora." 

(Virgil.) 

2.  "  The  devil  take  that  '  Phoenix '  !  How  came  it  there  ? " 
— B.,  1816. 

3.  [The  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 
Shipwj'eck  of  St.  Paul.l 

4.  [Edmund  Hoyle,  the  father  of  the  modern  game  of 
whist,  lived  from  1672  to  1769.  The  Rev.  Charles  Hoyle,  his 
"poetical  namesake," Avas,  like  Hoare,  a  Seatonian  prizeman, 
and  wrote  an  epic  in  thirteen  books  on  the  Exodus.'] 

5.  [William    Smyth    (1766-1849),    Professor   of    Modern 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  373 

Not  him  whose  page,  if  still  upheld  by  whist, 

Requires  no  sacred  theme  to  bid  us  list.^ 

Ye  !  who  in  Granta's  honours  would  surpass, 

Must  mount  her  Pegasus,  a  full-grown  ass  ;  970 

A  foal  well  worthy  of  her  ancient  Dam, 

Whose  Helicon  ^  is  duller  than  her  Cam.'' 

There  Clarke,^  still  striving  piteously  "  to  please,"  "• 
Forgetting  doggerel  leads  not  to  degrees, 

i.    Yet  hold — as  when  by  Heaven^ s  supreme  behest^ 
If  found,  ten  righteous  had  preserved  the  Rest 
/;/  Sodom^ s  fated  to^vn—for  Granta's  name 
Let  Hodgson^  s  Genius  plead  and  save  her  fame 
But  where  fair  Isis,  etc. — [AIS.  and  British  Bards. \ 
ii.  See  Clarke  still  striving  piteously  to  please 
Forgets  that  Doggrel  leads  not  to  degrees. — 

\MS.  Fragment  bound  up  with  British  Bards.'] 

History   at    Cambridge,  published   his  Efiglish  Lyrics   (in 
1806),  and  several  other  works.] 

1.  The  Games  of  Hoyle,  well  known  to  the  votaries  of 
Whist,  Chess,  etc.,  are  not  to  be  superseded  by  the  vagaries  of 
his  poetical  namesake  ["illustrious  Synonime"  in  MS.  and 
British  Bards\  whose  poem  comprised,  as  expressly  stated 
in  the  advertisement,  all  the  "  Plagues  of  Egypt." 

2.  [Here,  as  in  line  391,  "  Fresh  fish  from  Helicon,"  etc., 
Byron  confounds  Helicon  and  Hippocrene.] 

3.  This  person,  who  has  lately  betrayed  the  most  rabid 
symptoms  of  confirmed  authorship,  is  writer  of  a  poem  de- 
nominated The  Art  of  Pleasing,  as  "  Lucus  a  non  lucendo," 
containing  little  pleasantry,  and  less  poetry.  He  also  acts 
as  ["lies  as"  in  MS^^  monthly  stipendiary  and  collector  of 
calumnies  for  the  Satirist.  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. 

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  Newcastle  Herald 
teemed  with  his  precocious  essays,  to  the  great  edification  of 
the  Burgesses  of  Newcastle,  Alorpeth,  and  the  parts  adjacent 


374  ENGLISH    BARDS,   AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

A  would-be  satirist,  a  hired  Buffoon, 

A  monthly  scribbler  of  some  low  Lampoon,^ 

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  Satirist.  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. 

[Hewson  Clarke  (1787-circ.  1832)  was  entered  at  Emmanuel 
Coll.  Camb.  circ.  1806  (see  Postscript).  He  had  to  leave  the 
University  without  taking  a  degree,  and  migrated  to  London, 
where  he  devoted  his  not  inconsiderable  talents  to  contribu- 
tions to  the  Satirist,  the  Scourge,  etc.  He  also  A\Tote  :  Ati 
Impartial  History  of  the  Naval,  etc.,  Eve?its  of  Europe  .  .  . 
from  the  French  Revolution  .  .  .  to  the  Conclusio?i  of  a 
'  General  Peace  (18 15)  ;  and  a  continuation  of  Hume's  History 
of  Englaiid,  2  vols.  (1832). 

The  Satirist,  a  monthly  magazine  illustrated  with  coloured 
cartoons,  was  issued  1808-1814.  Hours  of  Idlejiass  v.-as 
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  : — 

"  But  when  with  the  ardour  of  Love  I  am  burning, 
I  feel  for  thy  torments,  I  feel  for  thy  care  ; 
And  weep  for  thy  bondage,  so  truly  discerning 
What's  felt  by  a  Lord,  may  be  felt  by  a  Bear.'''' 

In  August,  1808  (iii.  78-86),  there  is  a  critique  on  Poems 
Original  and  Translated,  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  observ^e  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."] 

I.  "  Right  enough  :  this  was  well  deserved,  and  well  laid 
on."— B.,  1816. 


ENGLISH    BARDSj  AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  375 

Condemned  to  drudge,  the  meanest  of  the  mean. 

And  furbish  falsehoods  for  a  magazine, 

Devotes  to  scandal  his  congenial  mind ; 

Himself  a  living  libel  on  mankind.  980 

Oh  !  dark  asylum  of  a  Vandal  race  I  ^ 
At  once  the  boast  of  learning,  and  disgrace  ! 
So  lost  to  Phoebus,  that  nor  Hodgson's  ^  verse 
Can  make  thee  better,  nor  poor  Hewson's  ^  worse.'- 
But  where  fair  Isis  rolls  her  purer  wave, 
The  partial  Muse  delighted  loves  to  lave  ; 
On  her  green  banks  a  greener  wreath  she  wove,"- 

i.  So  stink  jji  dullness  and  so  lost  in  shame 

That  Smythe  and  Hodgson  scarce  7'edeem  thy  fame. — 

[MS.  Addition  to  British  Bards.     First  to 
Fourth  Editions. \ 

ii.  is  wove. — 

[AIS.     British  Bards  and  First  to  Fourth  Editions.'] 

1.  "  Into  Cambridgeshire  the  Emperor  Probus  transported 
a  considerable  body  of  Vandals." — Gibbon's  Declifte  and 
Fall,  ii.  83.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  the  ti-uth  of  this 
assertion  ;  the  breed  is  still  in  high  perfection. 

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. — British  Bards. 

[Lines  981-984  do  not  occur  in  the  MS.  Lines  98 1,  9S2, 
are  inserted  in  MS.  in  British  Bards."] 

2.  This  gentleman's  name  requires  no  praise  :  the  man 
who  [has  surpassed  Dryden  and  Gifford  as  a  Translator. — 
MS.  British  Bards']  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.  [Francis  Hodgson  (1781-1852)  was  Byron's  life- 
long friend.  His  Juvefial  appeared  in  1807  ;  Lady  Ja7ie 
Grey  and  other  Poems,  in  1809  ;  Sir  Edgar,  a  Tale^  in  18 10. 
For  other  works  and  details,  see  Life  of  the  Rev.  Francis 
Hodgsofi,  by  the  Rev.  James  T.  Hodgson  (1878).] 

3.  Hewson  Clarke,  Esq.,  as  it  is  written. 


376  ENGLISH   BARDS,  AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

To  crown  the  Bards  that  haunt  her  classic  grove ; 

Where  Richards  wakes  a  genuine  poet's  fires, 

And  modern  Britons  glory  in  their  Sires.'- ^  990 

For  me,  who,  thus  unasked,  have  dared  to  tell 
My  country,  what  her  sons  should  know  too  well," 
Zeal  for  her  honour  bade  me  here  engage  "'• 
The  host  of  idiots  that  infest  her  age ; 
No  just  applause  her  honoured  name  shall  lose, 
As  first  in  freedom,  dearest  to  the  Muse. 
Oh  !  would  thy  bards  but  emulate  thy  fame. 
And  rise  more  worthy,  Albion,  of  thy  name  ! 
What  Athens  was  in  science,  Rome  in  power. 
What  Tyre  appeared  in  her  meridian  hour,  1000 

'Tis  thine  at  once,  fair  Albion  !  to  have  been — 
Earth's  chief  Dictatress,  Ocean's  lovely  Queen  :  '''• 
But  Rome  decayed,  and  Athens  strewed  the  plain, 
And  Tyre's  proud  piers  lie  shattered  in  the  main ; 

i.  And  modern  Britons  justly  praise  their  sires. — 

\MS.     British  Bards  and  First  to  Fourth  Editions.] 

ii.  what  her  sons  must  know  too  well. — {British  Bards.] 

iii.  Zeal  for  her  honour  no  malignant  Rage, 
Has  bade  me  spurn  the  follies  of  the  age. — 

{MS.     British  Bards.     First  Edition.] 

iv.  Ocea^i's  lonely  Queen. — {British  Bards.] 

Ocean^s  mighty  Queen. — {First  to  Fourth  Editions.] 

I.  The  Aboriginal  Brito7is^  an  excellent  ["  most  excellent " 
in  J/^'.]  poem,  by  Richards.  [The  Rev.  George  Richards, 
D.D.  (i 769-1 835),  a  Fellow  of  Oriel,  and  afterwards  Rector 
of  St.  Martin's-in-the-Fields.  The  Aboriginal  Britons,  a 
prize  poem,  was  published  in  1792,  and  was  followed  by  The 
Songs  of  the  Aboriginal  Bards  of  Britain  (1792),  and  various 
other  prose  and  poetical  works.] 


ENGLISH   BARDSj    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  377 

Like  these,  thy  strength  may  sink,  in  ruin  hurled,'- 

And  Britain  fall,  the  bulwark  of  the  world. 

But  let  me  cease,  and  dread  Cassandra's  fate, 

With  warning  ever  scoffed  at,  till  too  late  ; 

To  themes  less  lofty  still  my  lay  confine, 

And  urge  thy  Bards  to  gain  a  name  like  thine. ^      loio 

Then,  hapless  Britain  !  be  thy  rulers  blest, 
The  senate's  oracles,  the  people's  jest  ! 
Still  hear  thy  motley  orators  dispense 
The  flowers  of  rhetoric,  though  not  of  sense, 
While  Canning's  colleagues  hate  him  for  his  wit, 
And  old  dame  Portland  ^  fills  the  place  of  Pitt. 

Yet  once  again,  adieu  !  ere  this  the  sail 
That  wafts  me  hence  is  shivering  in  the  gale  ; 

i.  Like  these  thy  cliffs  may  sink  ifi  rtiiji  hurled 
The  last  white  ramparts  0/  afalli?ig  world. — 

[British  Bards  MS.\ 

1.  [With  this  verse  the  satire  originally  ended.] 

2.  A  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.) — [il/^*.]  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.  181 1. 
[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.] 


378  ENGLISH    BARDS,  AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And  Afric's  coast  and  Calpe's  adverse  height,^ 
And  Stamboul's  minarets  must  greet  my  sight :  1020 

Thence  shall  I  stray  through  Beauty's  native  clime,^ 
Where  Kaff  ^  is  clad  in  rocks,  and  crowned  with  snows 

sublime 
But  should  I  back  return,  no  tempting  press  ^ 
Shall  drag  my  Journal  from  the  desk's  recess ; 
Let  coxcombs,  printing  as  they  come  from  far, 
Snatch  his  own  wreath  of  Ridicule  from  Carr ; 
Let  Aberdeen  and  Elgin  *  still  pursue 
The  shade  of  fame  throucrh  regions  of  Virtu  : 


^O' 


i.  But  should  I  back  rehirn,  no  lettered  rage 

Shall  drag  my  common-place  book  on  the  stage: 

Let  vain  Valentia  ^  rival  luckless  Carr, 

A  fid  equal  him  whose  work  he  sought  to  mar. — 

[Second  to  Fourth  Edition!.] 

1.  "  Saw  it  August,  1809."— B.,  1816. 

[The  following  notes  were  omitted  from  the  Fifth 
Edition  : — 

"  Calpe  is  the  ancient  name  of  Gibraltar.  Saw  it  August, 
1809.— B.,  1816. 

"  Stamboul  is  the  Turkish  word  for  Constantinople.  Was 
there  the  summer  18 10." 

To  "  Mount  Caucasus,"  he  adds,  "  Saw  the  distant  ridge 
of, — 1 8 10,  1 8 II."] 

2.  Georgia. 

3.  Mount  Caucasus. 

4.  Lord  Elgin  would  fain  persuade  us  that  all  the  figures, 
with  and  without  noses,  in  his  stoneshop,  are  the  work  of 
Phidias  !  "  Credat  Judaeus  ! "  [R.  Payne  Knight,  in  his 
introduction  to  Speci??iens  of  Ancient  Sculpture,  published 
1809,  by  the  Dilettanti  Society,  throws  a  doubt  on  the 
Phidian  workmanship  of  the  ''  Elgin  "  marbles.  See  the 
Introduction  to  The  Curse  of  Mmerva.'] 

5.  Lord  Valentia  (whose  tremendous  travels  are  forth- 
coming with  due  decorations,  graphical,  topographical, 
typographical)  deposed,  on  Sir  John  Carr's  unlucky  suit,  that 
Mr.  Dubois's  satire  prevented  his  purchase  of  The  Stranger 


ENGLISH    BARDSj    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  379 

Waste  useless  thousands  on  their  Phidian  freaks, 
Misshapen  monuments  and  maimed  antiques  ;    1030 
And  make  their  grand  saloons  a  general  mart 
For  all  the  mutilated  blocks  of  art  : 
Of  Dardan  tours  let  Dilettanti  tell, 
I  leave  topography  to  rapid  ^  Gell  ;  '^ 

in  Ireland. — Oh,  fie,  my  lord  !  has  your  lordship  no  more 
feeling  for  a  fellow-tourist? — but  "two  of  a  trade,"  they 
say,  etc.  [George  Annesley,  Viscount  Valentia  (1769 -1844), 
published,  in  1809,  Voyages  ajid  Travels  to  hidia,  Ceylon, 
the  Red  Sea,  Abyssinia,  and  Egypt  in  the  Years  1802-6. 
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." — Eclectic 
Review,  August,  1809.  In  August,  1808,  Sir  John  Carr, 
author  of  numerous  Travels,  brought  an  unsuccessful  action 
for  damages  against  Messrs.  Hood  and  Sharpe,  the  publishers 
of  the  parody  of  his  works  by  Edward  Dubois, — My  Pocket 
Book:  or  Hints  for  a  Ryghte  Merrie  and  Coficeitede  Tour,  iji 
L\to,  to  be  called  "  The  Stranger  in  Ireland  ifi  1805,"  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  Childe  Harold.)'] 

1.  [Sir  William  Gell  (1777-1 836)  published  the  Topography 
of  Troy  (1804),  the  Geography  atid  Antiquities  of  Ithaca 
(1807),  and  the  Iti?ierary  of  Greece  (1808).  Byron  reviewed 
the  two  last  works  in  the  Monthly  Review  (August,  1811), 
{_Life,  pp.  670,  676).  Fresh  from  the  scenes,  he  speaks  with 
authority.  "With  Homer  in  his  pocket  and  Gell  on  his 
sumpter-mule,  the  Odysseus  tourist  may  now  make  a  very 
classical  and  delightful  excursion."  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  : — "  '  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  dout 
belong  to  it."] 

2.  Mr.  Gell's  Topography  of  Troy  and  Ithaca  cannot  fail 


380         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND   SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

And,  quite  content,  no  more  shall  interpose 
To  stun  the  public  ear — at  least  with  Prose.'- 

Thus  far  I've  held  my  undisturbed  career, 
Prepared  for  rancour,  steeled  'gainst  selfish  fear ; 
This  thing  of  rhyme  I  ne'er  disdained  to  own — 
Though  not  obtrusive,  yet  not  quite  unknown  :       1040 
My  voice  was  heard  again,  though  not  so  loud, 
My  page,  though  nameless,  never  disavowed  ; 
And  now  at  once  I  tear  the  veil  away  : — 
Cheer  on  the  pack  !  the  Quarry  stands  at  bay, 
Unscared  by  all  the  din  of  Melbourne  house,^ 
By  Lamb's  resentment,  or  by  Holland's  spouse, 
By  Jeffrey's  harmless  pistol,  Hallam's  rage, 
Edina's  brawny  sons  and  brimstone  page. 
Our  men  in  buckram  shall  have  blows  enough, 
And  feel  they  too  are  "  penetrable  stuff:  "  1050 

And  though  I  hope  not  hence  unscathed  to  go. 
Who  conquers  me  shall  find  a  stubborn  foe. 


i.    To  stun  mankind y  with  Poesy  or  Prose. — 

[Second  to  Fourth  Editions.  ] 

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. 

"'Troy  and  Ithaca.'  Visited  both  in  1810,  1811."— B., 
1816.     "  '  Ithaca'  passed  first  in  1809."— B.,  1816. 

"  Since  seeing  the  plain  of  Troy,  my  opinions  are  some- 
what changed  as  to  the  above  note.'  Cell's  survey  was  hasty 
and  superficial." — B.,  18 16, 

I.  "Singular  enough,  and  din  enough,  God  knows." — B., 
1816. 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  38 1 

The  time  hath  been,  when  no  harsh  sound  would  fall 

From  lips  that  now  may  seem  imbued  with  gall ; 

Nor  fools  nor  follies  tempt  me  to  despise 

The  meanest  thing  that  crawled  beneath  my  eyes  : 

But  now,  so  callous  grown,  so  changed  since  youth, 

I've  learned  to  think,  and  sternly  speak  the  truth ; 

Learned  to  deride  the  critic's  starch  decree, 

And  break  him  on  the  wheel  he  meant  for  me;      1060 

To  spurn  the  rod  a  scribbler  bids  me  kiss, 

Nor  care  if  courts  and  crowds  applaud  or  hiss  : 

Nay  more,  though  all  my  rival  rhymesters  frown, 

I  too  can  hunt  a  Poetaster  down ; 

And,  armed  in  proof,  the  gauntlet  cast  at  once 

To  Scotch  marauder,  and  to  Southern  dunce. 

Thus  much  I've  dared  ;  if  my  incondite  lay  '• 

Hath  wronged  these  righteous  times,  let  others  say  : 

This,  let  the  world,  which  knows  not  how  to  spare, 

Yet  rarely  blames  unjustly,  now  declare.-^  1070 


i.    Thus  much  Fve  dared  to  do,  hozufar  my  lay. — 

\Pirst  to  Fourth  Editions.] 

I.  "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." 
—Byron.     July  14,  1S16.     Diodati,  Geneva. 


382  ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH   REVIEWERS. 


POSTSCRIPT   TO   THE   SECOND    EDITION. 


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,  unresisting  Muse,  Avhom  they  have  already 
so  be-deviled  with  their  ungodly  ribaldiy  ; 

"  Tantaene  animis  coelestibus  Irae  !  " 

I  suppose  I  must  say  of  Jeffrey  as  Sir  Andrew  Ague- 
cheek  saith,  "  an  I  had  known  he  was  so  cunning  of  fence, 
I  had  seen  him  damned  ere  I  had  fought  him."  What  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.^ 

My  Northern  friends  have  accused  me,  with  justice,  of 
personality  towards  their  great  literary  Anthropophagus, 
Jeffrey;  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  Jeffrey's  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 

I.  [The  article  never  appeared,  and  Lord  Byron,  in  the 
Hints  from  Horace,  taunted  Jeffrey  with  a  silence  which 
seemed  to  indicate  that  the  critic  was  beaten  from  the  field.] 


ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS.  383 

personal :  those  who  do  not,  may  one  day  be  convinced. 
Since  the  pubhcation  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  sundiy 
cartels  ;  but,  alas  !  "  the  age  of  chivalry  is  over,"  or,  in  the 
vulgar  tongue,  there  is  no  spirit  now-a-days. 

There  is  a  youth  ycleped  Hewson  Clarke  (subaudi  esquire)^ 
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  Satirist  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  Satirist. 
He  has  therefore  no  reason  to  complain,  and  I  dare  say  that, 
like  Sir  Fretful  Plagiary,  he  is  rather  pleased  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  Satirist,  who,  it  seems,  is  a  gentleman — 
God  wot !  I  wish  he  could  impart  a  little  of  his  gentility  to 
his  subordinate  scribblers.  I  hear  that  Mr.  JERNINGHAM  ^  is 
about  to  take  up  the  cudgels  for  his  Maecenas,  Lord  Carlisle. 


I.  [Edward  Jerningham  (1727-18 12),  third  son  of  Sir 
George  Jerningham,  Bart.,  was  an  indefatigable  versifier. 
Between  the  publication  of  his  first  poem.  The  Niinnery,  in 
1766,  and  his  last,  The  Old  Bard's  Farewell,  in  181 2,  he 
sent  to  the  press  no  less  than  thirty  separate  compositions. 
As  a  contributor  to  the  British  Album,  Gifford  handled  him 
roughly  in  the  Baviad  (lines  21,  22)  ;  and  Mathias,  in  a 
note  to  Pursuits  of  Literature,  brackets  him  with  Payne 
Knight  as  "  ecrivain  du  commun  et  poete  vulgaire."  He 
Avas  a  dandy  with  a  literaiy  turn,  who  throughout  a  long  life 
knew  every  one  who  was  worth  knowing.  Some  of  his 
letters  have  recently  been  published  (see  Jerningham  Letters ^ 
two  vols.,  1896).] 


384         ENGLISH    BARDS,    AND    SCOTCH    REVIEWERS. 

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  Scott ^  I  wish 

"  To  all  and  each  a  fair  good  night, 
And  rosy  dreams  and  slumbers  light." 


HINTS   FROM    HORACE:'- 

BEING  AN  ALLUSION  IN  ENGLISH  VERSE  TO  THE  EPISTLE 
"  AD  PISONES,  DE  ARTE  POETICA,"  AND  INTENDED 
AS  A  SEQUEL  TO  "  ENGLISH  BARDS,  AND  SCOTCH 
REVIEWERS." 


"  Ergo  fungar  vice  cotis,  acutum 

Reddere  quce  ferrum  valet,  exsors  ipsa  secandi." 

HoR.  De  Arte  Foei.y  11.  304  and  305. 

**  Rhymes  are  difficult  things — they  are  stubborn  things,  Sir." 
Fielding's  Ainelia^  Vol.  iii.  Book  and  Chap.  v. 


i.  Hints  from  Horace  (Athens,  Capuchin  Convent,  March  12, 
181 1);  being  an  Imitation  in  English  Verse  from  the  Epistle,  etc. 
—\MS.  A/.] 

Hints  from  Horace :  being  a  Partial  Imitation,  in  English 
Verse,  of  the  Epistle  Ad  Pisones^  De  Arte  Poeticd  ;  and  intended 
as  a  sequel  to  English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Revirivers. 

Athens,  Franciscan  Convent,  March  12,  1811. — \Proofb.\ 


VOL.  I.  2    C 


INTRODUCTION   TO   HINTS  FROM  HORACE. 


Three  MSS.  of  Hijits  frcm  Horace  are  extant,  two  in  the 
possession  of  Lord  Lovelace  {MSS.  L.  a  and  b),  and  a  third 
in  the  possession  of  Mr.  Murray  {MS.  M.). 

Proofs  of  lines  173-272  and  1-272  {Proofs  a,  b),  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  181 1.  They  are  in  "book-form," 
and  show  that  the  volume  was  intended  to  be  uniform  with 
the  Fifth  Edition  of  English  Bards,  and  Scotch  Reviewers, 
of  181 1.  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  Hifits  in  his  Letters  and  Journals, 
1830,  i.  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  Re  col- 
lections  of  the  Life  of  Lord  Byron,  by  R.  C.  Dallas,  1824, 
pp.  104-113.  Byron,  estimating  the  merit  by  the  difficulty 
of  the  performance,  rated  the  Hints  from  Horace  extrava- 
gantly high.  He  only  forbore  to  publish  them  after  the 
success  of  Childe  Harold,  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 


388  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

mature  genius.  "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  "  [September 
23,  1820].  The  opinion  of  J.  C.  Hobhouse  that  the  Hmts 
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  pre- 
ferences of  Lord  Byron.  Shortly  after  the  appearance  of 
The  Corsair  he  fancied  that  English  Bards  was  still  his 
masterpiece  ;  when  all  his  greatest  works  had  been  pro- 
duced, 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  Hints  fro7n  Horace  with  a  special  and  un- 
changing fondness. 


HINTS   FROM    HORACE. 


Athens:  Capuchin  Convent,  March  12,  i8ii.'- 

Who  would  not  laugh,  if  Lawrence/  hired  to  grace " 
His  costly  canvas  with  each  flattered  face, 

i.  Athens,  March  2nd,  i%ii.—[MS.  L.  («).] 

Athens,  March  12th,  i?>ii.—[MS.  L.  {b),   MS.  M.] 
ii.  7f^  IVfst  or  Lawrence,  [take  whiche'er  yon.  will) 

Sons  of  the  Brush,  supreme  in  graphic  skill, 

Should  clap  a  human  head-piece  on  a  7Jiare, 

How  would  our  Exhibition'' s  lotmgers  stare  I 

Or  should  some  dashing  limner  set  to  sale 

My  Ladys  likeness  with  a  Mermaid's  tail. — \MS.  L.  {a).'\ 

The  features  Jinished,  should  superbly  deck 

My  Ladys  likeness  with  a  Filiys  neck  ; 

Or  should  some  limner  mad  or  maiidlin  group 

A  Mermaid's  tail  and  Maid  of  Honojit's  Hoop.  — [MS.  L.  {b).} 

1.  [Sir  Thomas  Lawrence  (i 769-1 830)  succeeded  West  as 
P.R.A.  in  1820.  Benjamin  West  (i 738-1 820)  had  been 
elected  P.R.A.  in  1792,  on  the  death  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.] 

2.  I  have  been  obliged  to  dive  into  the  "  Bathos  "  for  the 
simile,  as  I  could  not  tind  a  description  of  these  Painters' 
merits  above  ground. 

"  Si  liceat  parvis 
Componere  magna  " — 
"  Like  London's  column  pointing  to  the  skies 
Like  a  lull  Bully,  lifts  its  head  and  lies  " — 

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  com- 
parison. If  not,  let  me  have  recourse  to  To?>i  T/unnh  the 
Great  [Fielding's  farce,  first  played  1730]  to  keep  my  simile 
in  countenance. — \I\IS.  L.  {b)  erased^ 


390  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Abused  his  art,  till  Nature,  with  a  blush, 

Saw  cits  grow  Centaurs  underneath  his  brush  ? 

Or,  should  some  limner  join,  for  show  or  sale, 

A  Maid  of  Honour  to  a  Mermaid's  tail  ?  '• 

Or  low  Dubost  ^ — as  once  the  world  has  seen — 

Degrade  God's  creatures  in  his  graphic  spleen  ? 

Not  all  that  forced  politeness,  which  defends 

Fools  in  their  faults,  could  gag  his  grinning  friends.   lo 

Believe  me,  Moschus,  like  that  picture  seems  "• 

The  book  which,  sillier  than  a  sick  man's  dreams, 

i.     After  line  6,  the  following  lines  (erased)  were  inserted  : — 
Or  patch  a  Mammoth  up  with  wings  ajid  limbs, 
And  fins  of  aught  that  flies  or  walks  or  switns, — \^MS.  Af.] 

Another  variant  ran — 
Or  paint  {astray  from  Truth  a?id  Nature  led) 
A  Judge  with  wings,  a  Statesman  tuith  a  Head! — [MS.  M.] 
ii.  Believe  me,  Hobhouse. — \MS.  M.] 

I.  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.  [Thomas  Hope 
(1770-1831)  was  celebrated  for  his  collections  of  pictures, 
sculpture,  and  bric-a-brac.  He  was  the  author  oi  Anastasius, 
cr  Memoirs  of  a  Greek,  etc.,  which  was  attributed  to  B5'ron, 
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  brouglit,  was  ordered  to  pay  a  nominal  sum  of 
five  pounds.  Dubost's  academy  portrait  of  Mrs.  Hope  did 
not  please  Peter  Pindar. 

"  In  Mistress  Hope,  Monsieur  Dubost ! 
Thy  Genius  yieldeth  up  the  Ghost." 

Works  ( 1 812),  V.  372.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  39I 

Displays  a  crowd  of  figures  incomplete, 
Poetic  Nightmares,  without  head  or  feet. 

Poets  and  painters,  as  all  artists  know,'- 
May  shoot  a  little  with  a  lengthened  bow ; 
We  claim  this  mutual  mercy  for  our  task, 
And  grant  in  turn  the  pardon  which  we  ask ; 
But  make  not  monsters  spring  from  gentle  dams — 
Birds  breed  not  vipers,  tigers  nurse  not  lambs.  20 

A  laboured,  long  Exordium,  sometimes  tends 
(Like  patriot  speeches)  but  to  paltry  ends  ;  "• 
And  nonsense  in  a  lofty  note  goes  down, 
As  Pertness  passes  with  a  legal  gown :  '"• 
Thus  many  a  Bard  describes  in  pompous  strain  '''• 

i.  as  we  scribblers. — \MSS.  L.  {a  and  <5),  MS.  M.\ 

ii.  Like  Wardl^s  '  speeches.— IMS.  L.  {a).\ 
iii.  As  pertness  hirks  beneath  a  legal  gown: 

And  nonsense  in  a  lofty  note  goes  dozvn. — [AfS.  L.  (a).] 
or,  Which  cozier s  all  things  like  a  Prelate's  gown. — \MS.  L.  {b).\ 
or,  Which  wraps  presumption. — {MS.  M.  erased.^ 
iv.  As  when  the  poet  to  description  yields 

Of  waters  gliding  throtigh  the  goodly  fields  ; 

The  Groves  of  Gran  fa  and  her  Gothic  Halls, 

Oxford  and  Christchurch,  Londofi  and  St.  Fauls, 

Or  with  a  ruder  flight  he  feebly  aims 

To  paint  a  rainbozo  or  the  River  71ia77ies. 

Perhaps  you  draw  a  fir  tree  or  a  beech, 

Btit  then  a  landscape  is  beyond  your  reach  ; 

Or,  if  that  allegory  please  you  not. 

Take  this— you'' Id  form  a  vase,  but  make  a  pot. — {MS.  L.  (a).] 

I.  [G^\7llim  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  parlia- 
mentary investigation  into  the  exercise  of  military  patronage 
by  the  Duke  of  York,  and  the  supposed  influence  of  the 
Duke's  mistress,  Mary  Anne  Clarke. J 


392  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

The  clear  brook  babbling  through  the  goodly  plain  : 

The  groves  of  Granta,  and  her  Gothic  halls, 

King's  Coll — Cam's  stream — stained  windows,  and  old 

walls : 
Or,  in  adventurous  numbers,  neatly  aims 
To  paint  a  rainbow,  or — the  river  Thames.*  30 

You  sketch  a  tree,  and  so  perhaps  may  shine  '• — 
But  daub  a  shipwreck  like  an  alehouse  sign ; 
You  plan  a  vase — it  dwindles  to  2i  pot ; 
Then  glide  down  Grub-street — fasting  and  forgot ; 
Laughed  into  Lethe  by  some  quaint  Review, 
Whose  wit  is  never  troublesome  till — true. 


In  fine,  to  whatsoever  you  aspire, 
Let  it  at  least  be  simple  and  entire. 

i.  Although  you  sketch  a  tree  which  Taste  endures, 

Your  ill-daubed  Shipwreck  shocks  the  Co7inoisseurs. — \MS.  A/.] 

I.  "While  pure  Description  held  the  place  of  Sense." — 
Pope,  Prol.  to  the  Sat.,  L.  148. 

"  While  Mr.  Sol  decked  out  all  so  glorious 
Shines  like  a  Beau  in  his  Birthday  Embroidery." 
[Fielding,  Tom  Thiunb,  act  i.  sc.  i.] — \^MS.  AT] 

"  Fas  est  et  ab  Hoste  doceri^^  In  the  7th  Art.  of  the 
31st  No.  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  (vol.  xvi.  Ap.  18 10)  the 
"  Observations  "  of  an  Oxford  Tutor  are  compared  to  "  Chil- 
dren'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  com- 
parison increases  in  proportion  to  the  dissimilarity  between 
the  things  compared. — \AIS.  L.  {b)  erased.'] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  393 

The  greater  portion  of  the  rhyming  tribe  '• 
(Give  ear,  my  friend,  for  thou  hast  been  a  scribe)       40 
Are  led  astray  by  some  pecuHar  lure.'*- 
I  labour  to  be  brief — become  obscure ; 
One  falls  while  following  Elegance  too  fast ; 
Another  soars,  inflated  with  Bombast ; 
Too  low  a  third  crawls  on,  afraid  to  fly, 
He  spins  his  subject  to  Satiety ; 
Absurdly  varying,  he  at  last  engraves 
Fish  in  the  woods,  and  boars  beneath  the  waves !  "•• 

Unless  your  care's  exact,  your  judgment  nice, 
The  flight  from  Folly  leads  but  into  Vice;  50 

None  are  complete,  all  wanting  in  some  part, 
Like  certain  tailors,  limited  in  art. 
For  galligaskins  Slowshears  is  your  man  '"'• 
But  coats  must  claim  another  artisan. ^ 
Now  this  to  me,  I  own,  seems  much  the  same 

i.    The  greater  portion  of  the  men  of  rhyme 

Parents  and  childreft  or  their  Sires  sublime. — {AfS.  Af.] 
ii.  But  change  the  malady  they  strive  to  cure.— -[MS.  L.  {a).] 
iii.  Pish  in  the  woods  and  zvild-hoars  in  the  waves. — \MS.  M.\ 
iv.  Par  Coat  and  waistcoat  Sloiushears  is  your  man. 
Put  Breeches  claim  another  Artisaii ; 
Nolo  this  to  jue  I  awn  seems  7nuch  the  same 
As  one  leg  perfect  and  the  other  lame. — \AISS.  AI.,  L.  (a).] 
Sweitzer  is  your  man. — \AIS.  AT.  erased. ^ 

I.  Mere  common  mortals  were  commonly  content  with 
one  Taylor  and  with  one  bill,  but  the  more  particular  gentle- 
men 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. — \^MSS.  L.  (d)^  M.] 


394  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

As  Vulcan's  feet  to  bear  Apollo's  frame ; 

Or,  with  a  fair  complexion,  to  expose 

Black  eyes,  black  ringlets,  but — a  bottle  nose  ! 

Dear  Authors  !  suit  your  topics  to  your  strength, 
And  ponder  well  your  subject,  and  its  length  ;  60 

Nor  lift  your  load,  before  you're  quite  aware 
What  weight  your  shoulders  will,  or  will  not,  bear. 
But  lucid  Order,  and  Wit's  siren  voices- 
Await  the  Poet,  skilful  in  his  choice ; 
With  native  Eloquence  he  soars  along, 
Grace  in  his  thoughts,  and  Music  in  his  song. 

Let  Judgment  teach  him  wisely  to  combine 
With  future  parts  the  now  omitted  line : 
This  shall  the  Author  choose,  or  that  reject, 
Precise  in  style,  and  cautious  to  select ;  70 

Nor  slight  applause  will  candid  pens  afford 
To  him  who  furnishes  a  wanting  word.'** 

i.  Him  ivho  hath  sense  to  make  a  skilful  choice 
Nor  lucid  Order,  nor  the  Siren  Voice 
Of  Eloquence  shall  shun,  and  Wit  and  Grace 
{Or  Fm  deceived)  shall  aid  him  in  the  Race  : 
These  too  will  teach  him  to  defer  or  Join 
To  future  parts  the  now  omitted  line : 
This  shall  the  Author  like  or  that  reject. 
Sparing  in  words  and  ca7itious  to  select : 
Nor  slight  applause  will  candid  pens  afford 
To  him  who  vjell  compounds  a  wanting  word. 
And  if,  by  chance,  ^tis  needful  to  produce 
Some  term  long  laid  and  obsolete  in  use. — 

\MSS.  M.,  L.  {a  and  b).    The  last  line  partly  erased.  \ 
ii.    The  dextrotis  Coiner  of  a  wanting  word. — 

{Proof  by  British  Mtiseum.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  395 

Then  fear  not,  if  'tis  needful,  to  produce 

Some  term  unknown,  or  obsolete  in  use, 

(As  Pitt  has  furnished  us  a  word  or  two,^ 

Which  Lexicographers  declined  to  do  ;) 

So  you  indeed,  with  care, — (but  be  content 

To  take  this  license  rarely) — may  invent. 

New  words  find  credit  in  these  latter  days, 

If  neatly  grafted  on  a  Gallic  phrase ;  '•  80 

What  Chaucer,  Spenser  did,  we  scarce  refuse 

To  Dryden's  or  to  Pope's  maturer  Muse. 

If  you  can  add  a  little,  say  why  not, 

As  well  as  William  Pitt,  and  Walter  Scott  ? 

Since  they,  by  force  of  rhyme  and  force  of  lungs,"- 

Enriched  our  Island's  ill-united  tongues ; 

i.  Adroitly  grafted. — [Proof  b,  British  Museum.] 
ii.  Since  they  enriched  our  language  in  their  tivie 

In  modern  speeches  or  Black  letter  rhyme. — \I\TS.  L.  («),] 

I.  Mr.  Pitt  was  liberal  in  his  additions  to  our  Parliamentary 
tongue  ;  as  may  be  seen  in  many  publications,  particularly 
the  Edinburgh  Review.  [The  reference  may  be  to  financial 
terms,  such  as  sinking  fund  (a  phrase  not  introduced  by 
Pitt),  the  English  equivalent  of  caisse  d\i7iiortissevieiit^  or 
income  tax  iivipot  sur  le  rcvenu),  or  to  actual  French  words 
such  as  choua7merie^  projct,  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  Rolliad^ 
1799  ;  Political  Miscellanies^'^.  \i\  \  and  Political  Eclogues^ 
p.  195. 

And  Billy  best  of  all  things  loves — a  trope." 
Compare,  too,  Peter  Pindar,  "  To  Sylvanus  Urban,"  Works 
(1812),  ii.  259. 

"  Lycurgus  Pitt  whose  penetrating  eyes 
Behold  the  fount  of  Freedom  in  excise, 
V^YiOSQ  patriot  logic  possibly  maintains 
The  identity  of  liberty  and  chainsJ^^ 


396  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

'Tis  then — and  shall  be — lawful  to  present 
Reform  m  writing,  as  in  Parliament. 

As  forests  shed  their  foliage  by  degrees, 
So  fade  expressions  which  in  season  please ;  90 

And  we  and  ours,  alas  !  are  due  to  Fate, 
And  works  and  words  but  dwindle  to  a  date. 
Though  as  a  Monarch  nods,  and  Commerce  calls,^ 
Impetuous  rivers  stagnate  in  canals ; 
Though  swamps  subdued,  and  marshes  drained,  sustain  "• 
The  heavy  ploughshare  and  the  yellow  grain, 
And  rising  ports  along  the  busy  shore 
Protect  the  vessel  from  old  Ocean's  roar, 
All,  all,  must  perish  ;  but,  surviving  last, 
The  love  of  Letters  half  preserves  the  past.  100 

True,  some  decay,  yet  not  a  few  revive ;  "■•  ^ 

i.   Though  at  a  Monarches  fiod,  and  Traffic's  call 

Reluctant  rivers  deviate  to  Canal. — [AISS.  M.,  L.  {a  and  l>).] 

ii.  marshes  dried,  sustain. — [Proo/d,  British  A/tiseum.] 

iii.   This— future  years  dead  volumes  shall  revive. — 

[Proof  b,  British  Museum.] 

I.  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  !  [Richard  Heber  (i 773-1 833), 
book-collector  and  man  of  letters,  was  half-brother  of  the 
Bishop  of  Calcutta.  He  edited,  mler  alia,  Specimens  of  the 
Early  English  Poets,  by  George  Ellis,  3  vols.,  London  : 
1811. 

W.  H.  Weber  (1783-18 18),  a  German  by  birth,  was 
employed  by  Sir  Walter  Scott  as  an  amanuensis  and 
"searcher."  He  edited,  in  18 10,  Metrical  Romances  of  the 
l^th,  \\th,  and  \^th  Ceiituries,  a  work  described  by  Southey 
{Letters,  ii.  308)  as  "  admirably  edited,  exceedingly  curious, 
and  after  my  own  heart."      He  also  published  editions  of 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  397 

Though  those  shall  sink,  which  now  appear  to  thrive, 
As  Custom  arbitrates,  whose  shifting  sway  ** 
Our  life  and  language  must  alike  obey. 

The  immortal  wars  which  Gods  and  Angels  wage, 
Are  they  not  shown  in  Milton's  sacred  page  ? 
His  strain  will  teach  what  numbers  best  belong 
To  themes  celestial  told  in  Epic  song."- 

The  slow,  sad  stanza  will  correctly  paint 
The  Lover's  anguish,  or  the  Friend's  complaint.  no 

But  which  deserves  the  Laurel — Rhyme  or  Blank  ?  '"• 
A\Tiich  holds  on  Helicon  the  higher  rank  ? 
Let  squabbling  critics  by  themselves  dispute 
This  point,  as  puzzling  as  a  Chancery  suit. 

Satiric  rhyme  first  sprang  from  selfish  spleen. 
You  doubt — see  Dryden,  Pope,  St.  Patrick's  Dean.* 

i.  As  Custom  fluctuates  whose  h- on  Sway 

Though  ever  changing  Mortals  must  obey. — \^MS.  A/.] 
ii.    To  mark  the  Majesty  of  Epic  song. — \^MS.  L,  [a).] 
iii.  But  which  is  preferable  rhyme  or  blank 
Which  holds  in  poesy. — [MS.  L.  (a),] 

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  Life  0/ 
6"^^// (187 1),  p.  251.] 

I.  Mac  Flecknoe,  the  Diinciad^  and  all  Swift's  lampoon- 
ing ballads.  Whatever  their  other  works  may  be,  these 
originated  in  personal  feelings,  and  angr>'  retort  on  unworthy 
rivals  ;  and  though  the  ability  of  these  satires  elevates  the 
poetical,  their  poignancy  detracts  from  the  personal  character 
of  the  writers. 


398  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Blank  verse  is  now,  with  one  consent,  allied 
To  Tragedy,  and  rarely  quits  her  side. 
Though  mad  Almanzor  ^  rhymed  in  Dryden's  days, 
No  sing-song  Hero  rants  in  modern  plays  ;  120 

Whilst  modest  Comedy  her  verse  foregoes 
For  jest  SLndJ>7in  ^  in  very  middling  prose. 
Not  that  our  Bens  or  Beaumonts  show  the  worse. 
Or  lose  one  point,  because  they  wrote  in  verse. 
But  so  Thalia  pleases  to  appear,'- 
Poor  Virgin  !  damned  some  twenty  times  a  year  ! 

Whate'er  the  scene,  let  this  advice  have  weight : — 
Adapt  your  language  to  your  Hero's  state. 

i.  ventures  to  appear. — 

\MS.  Corr.  in  Proof  b,  British  Museum. '\ 

1.  \Alinanzor :  or  the  Conquest  of  Granada  by  the 
Spaniards^  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  :  "  '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  impossi- 
bilities. 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.  Calprenede.  .  .  .  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." 
— An  Essay  oti  Heroic  Plays.  Works  of  John  Dryden 
(1821),  iv.  23-25.] 

2.  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  disquisi- 
tion. ["  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  examina- 
tion, prove  arrant  puns."— £'jj-^j/  on  Wit^  Works  (if"  ' 
ii-  3540 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  399 

At  times  Melpomene  forgets  to  groan, 

And  brisk  Thalia  takes  a  serious  tone;  130 

Nor  unregarded  will  the  act  pass  by 

Where  angry  Townly  ^  "  lifts  his  voice  on  high." 

Again,  our  Shakespeare  limits  verse  to  Kings, 

When  common  prose  will  serve  for  common  things ; 

And  lively  Hal  resigns  heroic  ire,'- 

To  "  hollaing  Hotspur  "  2  and  his  sceptred  sire.'*- 

'Tis  not  enough,  ye  Bards,  with  all  your  art, 
To  polish  poems ;  they  must  touch  the  heart : 
Where'er  the  scene  be  laid,  whate'er  the  song, 
Still  let  it  bear  the  hearer's  soul  along;  140 

Command  your  audience  or  to  smile  or  weep, 
Whiche'er  may  please  you — anything  but  sleep. 
The  Poet  claims  our  tears ;  but,  by  his  leave. 
Before  I  shed  them,  let  me  see  /itm  grieve. 

If  banished  Romeo  feigned  nor  sigh  nor  tear, 
Lulled  by  his  languor,  I  could  sleep  or  sneer."'- 
Sad  words,  no  doubt,  become  a  serious  face, 
And  men  look  angry  in  the  proper  place. 

i.  And  Harry  Monmo7ith,  till  the  scenes  require^ 

Resigns  heroics  to  his  sceptred  Sire. — \^AIS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.   To  "  hollaing  Hoispir''^  and  the  sceptred  sire. — 

\^MS.  Corr.  in  Proof  b^  British  Museum.  \ 
iii.  Dull  as  an  Opera,  I  should  sleep  or  sneer. — \MS.  A/.] 

1.  [In  Vanbrugh  and  Gibber's  comedy  of  T/ia  Provoked 
Husband,  first  played  at  Drury  Lane,  January  10,  1728.] 

2.  "  And  in  his  ear  I'll  holla — Mortimer  !  "    [i  Henry  IV., 
act  i.  sc.  3.] 


400  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

At  double  meanings  folks  seem  wondrous  sly, 

And  Sentiment  prescribes  a  pensive  eye ;  150 

For  Nature  formed  at  first  the  inward  man, 

And  actors  copy  Nature — when  they  can. 

She  bids  the  beating  heart  with  rapture  bound, 

Raised  to  the  Stars,  or  levelled  with  the  ground 

And  for  Expression's  aid,  'tis  said,  or  sung,'- 

She  gave  our  mind's  interpreter — the  tongue. 

Who,  worn  with  use,  of  late  would  fain  dispense 

(At  least  in  theatres)  with  common  sense ; 

O'erwhelm  with  sound  the  Boxes,  Gallery,  Pit, 

And  raise  a  laugh  with  anything — but  Wit.  160 


To  skilful  writers  it  will  much  import. 
Whence  spring  their  scenes,  from  common  life  or  Court ; 
Whether  they  seek  applause  by  smile  or  tear. 
To  draw  a  Lying  Valet,^  or  a  Lear," 

i.  And  for  Emotion^  s  aid  His  said  and  sung. — [MS.  L.  (rt).] 

1.  [Garrick's  Lying  Valet  was  played  for  the  first  time  at 
Goodman's  Fields,  November  30,  1741.] 

["  Peregrine "  is  a  character  in  George  Colman's  John 
Btill,  or  A71  Ejtglishmaii's  Fire-Side,  Covent  Garden, 
March  5,  1803.] 

2.  I  have  Johnson's  authority  for  making  Lear  a  mono- 
syllable— 

"  Perhaps  where  Lear  rav'd  or  Hamlet  died 
On  flying  cars  new  sorcerers  may  ride." 

["  Perhaps  where  Lear  has  rav'd,  and  Hamlet  dy'd." 

Prologue  to  Irene.   Johnson^s  Works  (1806),  i.  168.] 

— and  (if  it  need  be  mentioned)  the  authority  of  the  epigram 
on  Barry  and  Garrick.— [Note  erased^  Proof  b^  British 
Museum^ 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  40I 

A  sage,  or  rakish  youngster  wild  from  school, 
A  wandering  Peregrine,  or  plain  John  Bull ; 
All  persons  please  when  Nature's  voice  prevails, 
Scottish  or  Irish,  born  in  Wilts  or  Wales. 

Or  follow  common  fame,  or  forge  a  plot ;  '• 
Who  cares  if  mimic  heroes  lived  or  not !  170 

One  precept  serves  to  regulate  the  scene : 
Make  it  appear  as  if  it  might  have  been. 

If  some  Drawcansir  ^  you  aspire  to  draw, 
Present  him  raving,  and  above  all  law  : 
If  female  furies  in  your  scheme  are  planned, 
Macbeth's  fierce  dame  is  ready  to  your  hand ; 
For  tears  and  treachery,  for  good  and  evil, 
Constance,  King  Richard,  Hamlet,  and  the  Devil ! 
But  if  a  new  design  you  dare  essay, 
And  freely  wander  from  the  beaten  way,  180 

i.  or  form  a  plot. — {Proof  l>^  British  Musciivi?^ 

I.  ["  Johnson.  Pray,  Mr.  Bayes,  who  is  that  Drawcansir? 

Bayes.  Why,  Sir,  a  great  [lierce]  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]." — The  Rehearsal,  act  iv.  sc.  i. 

The  Rehearsal,  by  George  Villiers,  second  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham (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  Dr^^den  : 
"he  himself  complains  bitterly  that  it  was  so."  (See  Lives 
of  the  Poets  (1890),  i.  386  ;  and  Boswell's  Life  of  Johnson 
(1876),  p.  235,  and  note.)^ 

VOL.    I.  2D 


402  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

True  to  your  characters,  till  all  be  past, 
Preserve  consistency  from  first  to  last. 

'Tis  hard  ^  to  venture  where  our  betters  fail,'- 
Or  lend  fresh  interest  to  a  twice-told  tale ; 

i.    What''eer  the  critic  says  or  poet  sings 

^Tis  no  slight  task  to  zvrite  on  common  things. — {MS.  L.  (a).] 

I.      "  Difficile  est  proprie  communia  dicere  ;  tuque 
Rectius  Iliacum  carmen  deducis  in  actus, 
Quam  si  proferres  ignota  indictaque  primus." 

HoR  :  De  Arte  Poet  :  128-130. 

Mons.  Dacier,  Mons.  de  Sevignd,  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  Sdvigne'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  canH  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  I4th's  Augustan  "  Siecle  "  induced  me  to  subjoin  these 
illustrious  authorities.  I  therefore  offer  firstly  Boileau  :  "  II 
est  difficile  de  traiter  des  sujets  qui  sont  k  la  portee  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." 
2dly,  Batteux  :  "  Mais  il  est  bien  difficile  de  donner  des 
traits  propres  et  individuals  aux  etres  purement  possibles." 
3dly,  Dacier  :  "  II  est  difficile  de  traiter  convenablement 
ces  caracteres  que  tout  le  monde  pent  inventer."  Mr. 
Sdvign^'s  opinion  and  translation,  consisting  of  some  thirty 
pages,  I  omit,  particularly  as  Mr.  Grouvelle  observes,  "La 
chose  est  bien  remarquable,  aucune  de  ces  diverses  inter- 
pretations ne  parait  etre  la  veritable."  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  conciher  tous  les  dis- 
sentiments  ; "  and  I  suppose  some  fifty  years  hence,  some- 
body, 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  cal- 
culations,   I  am  happy  to  say,  "  la  longueur  de  la  dissertation  " 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  403 

And  yet,  perchance,  'tis  wiser  to*  prefer 

A  liackneyed  plot,  than  choose  a  new,  and  err ; 

Yet  copy  not  too  closely,  but  record. 

More  justly,  thought  for  thought  than  word  for  word  ; 

Nor  trace  your  Prototype  through  narrow  ways, 

But  only  follow  where  he  merits  praise.  190 

For  you,  young  Bard  !  whom  luckless  fate  may  lead  ^ 
To  tremble  on  the  nod  of  all  who  read, 

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  Sevigne,  has  said, 

"  A  little  learning  is  a  dangerous  thing." 

And  by  the  above  extract,  it  appears  that  a  good  deal  may 
be  rendered  as  useless  to  the  Proprietors.  [Byron  chose 
the  words  in  question,  Difficile,  etc.,  as  a  motto  for  the  first 
five  cantos  of  Do7i  yuan.] 

I.  About  two  years  ago  a  young  man  named  Townsend 
was  announced  by  Mr.  Cumberland,  in  a  review  (since 
deceased)  [the  London  Review\  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  atten- 
tion 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  incurrecl  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 
Southcy,  Cottle,  Cowley  (Mrs.  or  Abraham),  Ogilvy,  Wilkie, 


404  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Ere  your  first  score  of  cantos  Time  unrolls,'- 

Beware — for  God's  sake,  don't  begin  like  Bowles  ! 

"  Awake  a  louder  and  a  loftier  strain,"  ^ — 

And  pray,  what  follows  from  his  boiling  brain  ? — 

He  sinks  to  Southey's  level  in  a  trice, 

AVhose  Epic  Mountains  never  fail  in  mice  ! 

Not  so  of  yore  awoke  your  mighty  Sire 

The  tempered  warblings  of  his  master-lyre ;  200 

Soft  as  the  gentler  breathing  of  the  lute, 

"  Of  Man's  first  disobedience  and  the  fruit " 

He  speaks,  but,  as  his  subject  swells  along, 

Earth,  Heaven,  and  Hades  echo  with  the  song."* 

i.  Ere  o'er  our  heads  your  Musis  Thunder  rolls.  — [MS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.  Earlh,  Heaven  and  Hell,  are  shaken  with  the  Song. — [MS.  L.  {d).^ 

Pye,  and  all  the  "  dull  of  past  and  present  days."  Even  if 
he  is  not  a  Milton^  he  may  be  better  than  Blackmorej  if  not 
a  Homer.,  an  Antimachus.  I  should  deem  myself  pre- 
sumptuous, 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  Avell  "  the  scribbler's  scoff,  the  critic's  contumely  ; " 
and  I  am  afraid  time^v'ill  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  envy j  he 
will  soon  know  mankind  well  enough  not  to  attribute  this 
expression  to  malice.  [This  note  was  written  [at  Athens] 
before  the  author  was  apprised  of  Mr.  Cumberland's  death 
[in  May,  181 1]. — MS.  (See  Byron's  letter  to  Dallas,  August  27, 
181 1.)  The  Rev.  George  Townsend  (1788-1857)  published 
Poems  in  1810,  and  eight  books  of  his  Armageddon  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.] 

I.  [The  first  line  of  A  Spirit  of  Discovery  by  Sea^  by  the 
Rev.  W.  Lisle  Bowles,  first  published  in  1805.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  405 

Still  to  the  "  midst  of  things  "  he  hastens  on, 

As  if  we  witnessed  all  already  done ;  '• 

Leaves  on  his  path  whatever  seems  too  mean 

To  raise  the  subject,  or  adorn  the  scene ; 

Gives,  as  each  page  improves  upon  the  sight, 

Not  smoke  from  brightness,  but  from  darkness — light ;  2  lo 

And  truth  and  fiction  with  such  art  compounds, 

We  know  not  where  to  fix  their  several  bounds. 

If  you  would  please  the  Public,  deign  to  hear 
What  soothes  the  many-headed  monster's  ear :  "• 
If  your  heart  triumph  when  the  hands  of  all 
Applaud  in  thunder  at  the  curtain's  fall. 
Deserve  those  plaudits — study  Nature's  page, 
And  sketch  the  striking  traits  of  every  age  ; 
While  varying  Man  and  varying  years  unfold 
Life's  little  tale,  so  oft,  so  vainly  told ;  220 

Observe  his  simple  childhood's  dawning  days, 
His  pranks,  his  prate,  his  playmates,  and  his  plays : 
Till  time  at  length  the  mannish  tyro  weans. 
And  prurient  vice  outstrips  his  tardy  teens  1  *"• 

Behold  him  Freshman  !  forced  no  more  to  groan  *''• 

O'er  Virgil's  ^  devilish  verses  and  his  own  ; 

i.    Throtigh  deeds  tue  hicnv  not^  though  already  done. — [MS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.    What  soothes  the  peoples,  Pee/s,  and  Critic's  ear. — [MS.  L.  (a).] 
iii.  And  Vice  buds  forth  developed  with  his  Teens. — [MS.  M.] 
iv.   The  beardless  Tyro  freed  at  length  from  school. — 

[MSS.  L.  {jb\  M.  erased.] 

5  Atid  blushing  Birch  disdains  all  College  rule.— [MS.  M.  erased.\ 

\  And  dreaded  Birch.— [MS.  L.  {a  and  /').] 

I.  Harvey,  the  circulator  of  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 


4o6  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Prayers  are  too  tedious,  Lectures  too  abstruse. 

He  flies  from  Tavell's  frown  to  "  Fordham's  Mews  ;  " 

(Unlucky  Tavell !  ^  doomed  to  daily  cares  *• 

By  pugilistic  pupils,  and  by  bears,)  230 

Fines,  Tutors,  tasks.  Conventions  threat  in  vain, 

Before  hounds,  himters,  and  Newmarket  Plain. 

Rough  with  his  elders,  with  his  equals  rash, 

Civil  to  sharpers,  prodigal  of  cash ; 

Constant  to  nought — save  hazard  and  a  whore,"* 

i.    Unlucky  Tavell!  dam7ied  to  dally  cares 

By  pugilistic  Freslrmen,  and  by  Bears. — \^MS.  M.  erased.  \ 
ii.  Ready  to  quit  whate'er  he  loved  before, 

Constant  to  fioughty  save  hazard  and  a  whore. — {MS.  L.  (c).] 

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  poetiy  for  the  residue  of  a  man's  life,  and, 
perhaps,  so  far  may  be  an  advantage. 

I.  "  Ijtfandmn,  regina,  jubes  re7iovare  dolorejn.''^  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,  "  quaqtie  ipse  7mserrima  vidi^  et  qtcoriwi 
pars  magna  fui,^^  all  times  and  terms  bear  testimony.  [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 
Efiglish  Bards,  1.  973,  7iote,  and  postscript  to  the  Second 
Edition,  afite,  p.  383.  See  also  letter  to  Miss  Pigot, 
October  26,  1807.) 

The  following  copy  of  a  bill  (no  date)  tells  its  own  story  : — 

The  Honble.  Lord  Byron. 

To  John  Clarke. 
To  Bread  &  Milk  for  the  Bear  deliv^l  £ 
to  Haladay         ...  ...  ...  /  i     9     7 

Cambridge  Reve.  A  Clarke.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  407 

Yet  cursing  both — for  both  have  made  him  sore  : 
Unread  (unless  since  books  beguile  disease, 
The  P — X  becomes  his  passage  to  Degrees) ; 
Fooled,  pillaged,  dunned,  he  wastes  his  terms  away,*- 
And  unexpelled,  perhaps,  retires  M.A. ;  240 

Master  of  Arts  !  as  hells  and  clubs  ^  proclaim,"- 
Where  scarce  a  blacklesr  bears  a  briditer  name  ! 


'& 


Launched  into  life,  extinct  his  early  fire, 
He  apes  the  selfish  prudence  of  his  Sire ; 
Marries  for  money,  chooses  friends  for  rank, 
Buys  land,  and  shrewdly  trusts  not  to  the  Bank ; 
Sits  in  the  Senate  ;  gets  a  son  and  heir ; 
Sends  him  to  Harrow — for  himself  was  there. 
Mute,  though  he  votes,  unless  when  called  to  cheer, 
His  son's  so  sharp — he'll  see  the  dog  a  Peer  !  250 

Manhood  declines — Age  palsies  every  limb  ; 
He  quits  the  scene — or  else  the  scene  quits  him ; 
Scrapes  wealth,  o'er  each  departing  penny  grieves,"** 
And  Avarice  seizes  all  Ambition  leaves  j 

i.   The  better  years  of  youth  he  wastes  away. — \MS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.  Master  of  Arts,  as  all  the  Cbibs  proclaim. — \^MS.  L.  {b).'\ 
iii.  Scrapes  wealth,  o'er  Grandam^s  efidless  jointure  grieves. — 

\^MS.  erased. ^ 
Cer  Grandam^s  mortgage,  or  young  hopefuV s  debts. — 

IMS.  L.  [a).] 
O'er  Uncles  mortgage.— {MS.  L.  {b).] 

I.  "  Hell,"  a  gaming-house  so  called,  where  you  risk  little, 
and  are  cheated  a  good  deal.  "  Club,"  a  pleasant  purgatory, 
where  you  lose  more,  and  are  not  supposed  to  be  cheated 
at  all. 


408  HINTS    FROM    HORACE 

Counts  cent  per  cent,  and  smiles,  or  vainly  frets, 
O'er  hoards  diminished  by  young  Hopeful's  debts ; 
Weighs  well  and  wisely  what  to  sell  or  buy. 
Complete  in  all  life's  lessons — but  to  die  ; 
Peevish  and  spiteful,  doting,  hard  to  please. 
Commending  every  time,  save  times  like  these;       260 
Crazed,  querulous,  forsaken,  half  forgot. 
Expires  unwept — is  buried — Let  him  rot ! 

But  from  the  Drama  let  me  not  digress, 
Nor  spare  my  precepts,  though  they  please  you  less.*- 
Though  Woman  weep,  and  hardest  hearts  are  stirred,''- 
When  what  is  done  is  rather  seen  than  heard, 
Yet  many  deeds  preserved  in  History's  page 
Are  better  told  than  acted  on  the  stage ; 
The  ear  sustains  what  shocks  the  timid  eye, 
And  Horror  thus  subsides  to  Sympathy,  270 

True  Briton  all  beside,  I  here  am  French — 
Bloodshed  'tis  surely  better  to  retrench  : 
The  gladiatorial  gore  we  teach  to  flow 
In  tragic  scenes  disgusts  though  but  in  show ; 
We  hate  the  carnage  while  we  see  the  trick. 
And  find  small  sympathy  in  being  sick. 
Not  on  the  stage  the  regicide  Macbeth 
Appals  an  audience  with  a  Monarch's  death ;  "*- 

i.    Your  plot  is  told  or  acted  more  or  less. — [MS.  Af.] 
ii.    To  greater  sympathy  our  feelings  rise 

When  what  is  done  is  done  before  our  eyes.  — [MS.  L.  (a).] 
iii.  Appalls  an  audience  with  the  work  of  Death — 

To  gaze  when  Hubert  simply  threats  to  sere. — [MS.  L.  (a).] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  409 

To  gaze  when  sable  Huljert  threats  to  sear 

Young  Arthur's  eyes,  can  ours  or  Nature  bear  ?  2 So 

A  haltered  heroine  ^  Johnson  sought  to  slay — 

We  saved  Irene,  but  half  damned  the  play, 

And  (Heaven  be  praised  !)  our  tolerating  times 

Stint  Metamorphoses  to  Pantomimes  ; 

And  Lewis'  ^  self,  with  all  his  sprites,  would  quake 

To  change  Earl  Osmond's  negro  to  a  snake  ! 

Because,  in  scenes  exciting  joy  or  grief, 

We  loathe  the  action  which  exceeds  belief : 

And  yet,  God  knows  !  what  may  not  authors  do. 

Whose  Postscripts  prate  of  dyeing  "  heroines  blue  "  ?  ^  290 

Above  all  things,  Dan  Poet,  if  you  can, 
Eke  out  your  acts,  I  pray,  with  mortal  man, 

1.  "  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." — BoswelVs 
Johnson  [1876,  p.  60].  [Irene  (first  played  Febniar}^  6,  1749) 
for  the  future  was  put  to  death  behind  the  scenes.  The 
strangling  her,  contrary  to  Horace's  rule,  coram  populo^  was 
suggested  by  Garrick.     (See  Davies'  Life  of  Gar  rick  (1808), 

i.  157.)] 

2.  [Matthew  Gregoiy  Lewis  (1775-1818).  {Vide  Eiiglish 
Bards,  etc.,  1.  265,  ?i.  8.)  The  character  of  Hassan,  "  my  mis- 
anthropic negro,"  as  Lewis  called  him,  was  said  by  the  critics 
of  the  day  to  have  been  borrowed  from  Zanga  in  Young's 
Revenge.  Lewis,  in  his  "  Address  to  the  Reader,"  quoted  by 
Byron  (in  note  3),  defends  the  originality  of  the  conception.] 

3.  In  the  postscript  to  The  Castle  Spectre,  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!"  \^The  Castle  Spectre,  by  M.  G.  Lewis, 
Esq.,  M.P.,  London,  1798,  page  102.] 


4IO  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Nor  call  a  ghost,  unless  some  cursed  scrape  '• 

Must  open  ten  trap-doors  for  your  escape. 

Of  all  the  monstrous  things  I'd  fain  forbid, 

I  loathe  an  Opera  worse  than  Dennis  did  ;  ^ 

Where  good  and  evil  persons,  right  or  wrong, 

Rage,  love,  and  aught  but  moralise — in  song. 

Hail,  last  memorial  of  our  foreign  friends,"- 

Which  Gaul  allows,  and  still  Hesperia  lends  !  300 

Napoleon's  edicts  no  embargo  lay 

On  whores — spies — singers — wisely  shipped  away. 

Our  giant  Capital,  whose  squares  are  spread  "'■ 

Where  rustics  earned,  and  now  may  beg,  their  bread, 

In  all  iniquity  is  grown  so  nice, 

It  scorns  amusements  which  are  not  of  price. 

Hence  the  pert  shopkeeper,  whose  throbbing  ear 

Aches  with  orchestras  which  he  pays  to  hear,'"'- 

Whom  shame,  not  sympathy,  forbids  to  snore, 

His  anguish  doubling  by  his  own  "  encore ; "  "•  310 

Squeezed  in  "  Fop's  Alley,"  ^  jostled  by  the  beaux, 

i .  Nor  call  a  Ghost,  unless  some  cursM  hitch 

Requires  a  trapdoor  Goblifi  or  a  Witch.  — {MS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.    This  comes  from  Comtnerce  with  our  foreigfi  friefids 

These  are  the  precious  fruits  Ausonia  sends. — {MS.  L.  (a).] 
iii.   Otir  Giant  Capital  where  streets  still  spread 

Where  once  our  simpler  sins  were  bred. — {MS.  L.  (a;).] 
Our  fields  where  o?ice  the  7'ustic  earned  his  bread. — {MS.  L.  {b).'\ 
iv.  Aches  with  the  Orchestra  he  pays  to  hear. — {MS.  Af.] 
V,  Scarce  kept  awake  by  roaring  out  encore. — {AIS.  L.  {a).'\ 

1.  [In  1706  John  Dennis,  the  critic  (1657-1734),  wrote  an 
Essay  o?t  the  Operas  after  the  Italian  7nanner^  which  are 
about  to  be  established  oti  the  English  Stage ;  to  show  that 
they  were  more  immoral  than  the  most  licentious  play.] 

2.  [One  of  the  gangways  in  the  Opera  House,  where  the 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  47  I 

Teased  with  his  hat,  and  trembhng  for  his  toes  ; 
Scarce  wrestles  through  the  night,  nor  tastes  of  ease, 
Till  the  dropped  curtain  gives  a  glad  release  : 
Why  this,  and  more,  he  suffers — can  ye  guess  ? — 
Because  it  costs  him  dear,  and  makes  him  dress  !  ^ 

So  prosper  eunuchs  from  Etruscan  schools  ; 
Give  us  but  fiddlers,  and  they're  sure  of  fools  ! 
Ere  scenes  were  played  by  many  a  reverend  clerk,'-  - 
(What  harm,  if  David  danced  before  the  ark  ?)  "•       320 
In  Christmas  revels,  simple  country  folks 
Were  pleased  with  morrice-mumm'ry  and  coarse  jokes. 
Improving  years,  with  things  no  longer  known, 
Produced  blithe  Punch  and  merry  Madame  Joan, 

i.  £re  theatres  were  built  and  reverejid  clerks 

Wrote  plays  as  some  old  book  remarks. — \^MS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.    Who  did  what  Vestris—yet,  at  least, — cantiot, 

Ajid  cut  his  kingly  capers  "  Sans  culotte^ — \MS.  Jlf.] 

young   men  of  fashion  used   to   assemble.      (See  letter  to 
Murray,  Nov.  9,  1820  ;  Lz/e,  p.  62.)] 

1.  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." — [AfS.  L.  (a).] 

2.  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 
personse  were  usually  Adam,  Pater  Coelestis,  Faith,  Vice, 
and  sometimes  an  angel  or  two  ;  but  these  were  eventually 
superseded  by  Gavijjier  Gjirtoii's  Needle. —  Vide  Warton's 
History  of  English  Poetry  {;passim\—{MSS.  M.,  L.  {b).'] 


412  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Who  Still  frisk  on  with  feats  so  lewdly  low,'- 
'Tis  strange  Benvolio  ^  suffers  such  a  show  ; 
Suppressing  peer  !  to  whom  each  vice  gives  place,"- 
Oaths,  boxing,  begging — all,  save  rout  and  race. 

Farce  followed  Comedy,  and  reached  her  prime, 
In  ever-laughing  Foote's  fantastic  time  :  ^  330 

i.    Who  yet  squeaks  on  7ior  fears  to  be  forgot 

Jf  good  Earl  Grosvenor  supersede  them  not. — [MS.  L.  (a).] 

Who  still  frisk  on  with  feats  so  vastly  low 

''Tis  strange  Earl  Gj'osvenor  suffers  such  a  show. — [AIS.  A/.] 
ii.  Suppressing  Peer  !  to  whom  all  vice  gives  place, 

Save  Gambling — for  his  Lordship  loves  a  Race. — [MS.  L.  {a).\ 

1.  Bcfivolio  [Lord  Grosvenor,  MS.  L.  (^)]  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  she  herself 
did  not  commit  fornication. 

[Robert,  second  Earl  Grosvenor  (i 767-1 845),  was  created 
Marquis  of  Westminster  in  1831.  Like  his  father,  Gifford's 
patron,  the  first  Earl  Grosvenor,  he  was  a  breeder  of  race- 
horses, 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  Pari.  Hist.,  34.  1006,  loio ; 
and  Pari.  Deb.,  8.  286.)  (For  a  skit  on  Lord  Belgrave's 
Sabbatarian  views,  see  Peter  Pindar,  Works  (18 12),  iv.  519.)] 

2.  [Samuel  Foote  (1720-1777),  actor  and  playwright.  His 
solo  entertainments,  in  The  Dish  of  Tea,  An  Auction  of 
Pictures,  1747-8  (see  his  comedy  Taste),  were  the  precursors 
oi Mathews  at  Hovie,2LvA  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  The  Minor  (1760),  ridiculing  White- 
field  and  the  Methodists,  and  The  Mayor  of  Garratt  (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).     The  Lyar,  first  played  at  Covent 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  413 

Mad  wag  !  who  pardoned  none,  nor  spared  the  best, 
And  turned  some  very  serious  things  to  jest. 
Nor  Church  nor  State  escaped  his  pubHc  sneers. 
Arms  nor  the  Gown — Priests — Lawyers — Volunteers  : 
"  "  Alas,  poor  Yorick  ! "  now  for  ever  mute ! 
Whoever  loves  a  laugh  must  sigh  for  Foote. 

We  smile,  perforce,  when  histrionic  scenes 
Ape  the  swoln  dialogue  of  Kings  and  Queens, 
When  "  Crononhotonthologos  must  die,"  ^ 
And  Arthur  struts  in  mimic  majesty.  340 

Moschus  !  with  whom  once  more  I  hope  to  sit,' 

i.  Hobhouse,  since  we  have  roved  through  Eastern  climes^ 
While  all  the  ^gean  echoed  to  our  rhymes^ 
And  bound  to  Momus  by  some  pagan  spell 
Laughed^  sang  and  quaffed  to  "  Vive  fa  Bagatelle  !  ^^ — 

[MS.  L.  (a).] 
Hobhouse,  with  whom  once  more  I  hope  to  sit 
And  smile  at  wliat  otir  Stage  retails  for  wit. 
Since /e7i<,  I  know,  enjoy  a  laugh  so  well 
Sardonic  slave  to  "  Vive  la  Ba'^atelle  " 
So  that  in  your''s  like  Pagati  Plato's  bed 
They" II find  some  book  oj  Epigrams  when  dead. — \MS.  L.  (<5).] 

Garden,  January  12,  1762,  was  the  latest  to  hold  the  stage. 
It  was  reproduced  at  the  Opdra  Comique  in  1877.] 

I.  [Henry  Carey, ^poct  and  musician  (d.  1743),  a  natural 
son  of  George  Savile,  Marquis  of  Halifax,  was  the  author 
of  ChrononJiotcmthologos,  "  the  most  tragical  tragedy  ever 
yet  tragedised  by  any  company  of  tragedians,"  which  was 
tirst  played  at  the  Hay  market,  February  22,  1734.  The  well- 
known  hnes,  "  Go,  call  a  coach,  and  let  a  coach  be  called," 
etc.,  which  Scott  prefixed  to  the  first  chapter  of  The 
Antiquary,  are  from  the  last  scene,  in  which  Bombardinion 
fights  with  and  kills  the  King  Chrononhotonthologos.  But 
his  one  achievement  was  Sally  in  our  Alley,  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.] 


414  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

And  smile  at  folly,  if  we  can't  at  wit ; 

Yes,  Friend !  for  thee  I'll  quit  my  cynic  cell. 

And  bear  Swift's  motto,  "  Vive  la  bagatelle  !  " 

Which  charmed  our  days  in  each  ^gean  clime, 

As  oft  at  home,  with  revelry  and  rhyme. 

Then  may  Euphrosyne,  who  sped  the  past, 

Soothe  thy  Life's  scenes,  nor  leave  thee  in  the  last ; 

But  find  in  thine — like  pagan  Plato's  bed,'-  ^ 

Some  merry  Manuscript  of  Mimes,  when  dead.        350 

Now  to  the  Drama  let  us  bend  our  eyes. 
Where  fettered  by  whig  Walpole  low  she  lies ;  ^ 
Corruption  foiled  her,  for  she  feared  her  glance ; 
Decorum  left  her  for  an  Opera  dance ! 


i.  Afy  tuayiuard  Spirit  iveakly  yields  to  gloom, 
But  thine  will  tvaft  thee  lightly  to  the  Tomb, 
So  that  in  thine,  like  Pagan  Plato's,  bed 
They  II Jind  some  Manuscript  of  Mimes,  when  dead. — [MS.  M."] 

1.  Under  Plato's  pilloAva  volume  of  the  Mimes  of  Sophron 
was  found  the  day  he  died. —  Vide  Barthel(fmi,  De  Pamv, 
or  Diogenes  Laertius,  [Lib.  iii.  p.  168 — Chouet  1595]  if 
agreeable.  De  Pauw  calls  it  a  jest-book.  Cumberland,  in 
his  Observer,  terms  it  moral,  like  the  sayings  of  Publius 
Syrus. 

2.  [In  1737  the  manager  of  Goodman's  Fields  Theatre 
having  brought  Sir  Robert  Walpole  a  farce  called  The 
Golden  Rump,  the  minister  detained  the  copy.  He  then 
made  extracts  of  the  most  oftensive  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  The  Golden  Rump  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  A  Book  of  the 
Play,  by  Dutton  Cook  (1881),  p.  27.)] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  415 

Yet  Chesterfield,^  whose  poHshed  pen  inveighs 

'Gainst  laughter,  fought  for  freedom  to  our  Plays ; 

Unchecked  by  Megrims  of  patrician  brains, 

And  damning  Dulness  of  Lord  Chamberlains. 

Repeal  that  act !  again  let  Humour  roam 

Wild  o'er  the  stage — we've  time  for  tears  at  home ;  360 

Let  Archer  ^  j)lant  the  horns  on  Sullen's  brows. 

And  Estifania  gull  her  "  Copper  "  ^  spouse ; 

The  moral's  scant — but  that  may  be  excused, 

Men  go  not  to  be  lectured,  but  amused. 

He  whom  our  plays  dispose  to  Good  or  111 

1.  His  speech  on  the  Licensing  Act  [in  which  he  opposed 
the  Bill],  is  reckoned  one  of  his  most  eloquent  efforts. 

[The  following  sentences  have  been  extracted  from  the 
speech  which  was  delivered  : — 

"  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.  .  .  . 

"  Those  gentlemen  who  have  any  such  property  are  all,  I 
hope,  our  friends  ;  do  not  let  us  subject  them  to  any  un- 
necessary or  arbitrary  restraint.  .  .  . 

"  The  stage  and  the  press,  my  lord,  are  two  of  our  out- 
sentrics  ;  if  we  remove  them,  if  we  hoodwink  them,  if  we 
throw  them  into  fetters,  the  enemy  may  surprise  us.  There- 
fore I  must  now  look  upon  the  bill  before  us  as  a  step  for 
introducing  arbitrary  power  into  this  kingdom." 

Lord  Chesterfield's  sentiments  with  regard  to  laughter  are 
contained  in  an  apophthegm,  repeated  more  than  once  in  his 
correspondence  :  "  The  vulgar  laugh  aloud,  but  never  smile  ; 
on  the  contrar>',  people  of  fashion  often  smile,  but  seldom  or 
never  laugh  aloud." — ChesterJieUVs  Letters  to  his  Godson^ 
Oxford,  1890,  p.  27.] 

2.  [Archer  and  Squire  Sullen  are  characters  in  Farquhar's 
play  (1678-1707),  The  Beaux'  Stratagem^  March  8,  1707.] 

3.  Michael  Perez,  the  "Copper  Captain,"  in  [Fletcher's] 
Rule  a  Wife  and  Have  a  Wife  [licensed  October  19,  1624J. 


41 6  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Must  wear  a  head  in  want  of  Willis'  skill ;  ^ 
Aye,  but  Macheath's  example — psha  ! — no  more  ! 
It  formed  no  thieves — the  thief  was  formed  before ;  ^ 
And  spite  of  puritans  and  Collier's  cursed- 
Plays  make  mankind  no  better,  and  no  worse.^        370 


i.  And  spite  of  Methodism  and  Collier's  curse. — [MS.  Af.] 
He  -ioho^s  seduced  by  plays  must  be  a  fool — 
If  boys  want  teaching  let  them  stay  at  school. — \MS.  L.  («),] 

1.  [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  {Life 
and  Times.,  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  181 1.  Compare 
Shelley's  Peter  Bell  the  Third.,  part  vi. — 

"  Let  him  shave  his  head  : 
Where's  Dr.  Willis  ?  " 

(See,  too,  Bland-Burges  Papers  (1885),  pp.    113-115,  and 
Life  of  George  IV..,  by  Percy  Fitzgerald  (1881),  ii.  18.)] 

2.  [Dr.  Johnson  was  of  the  like  opinion.  "  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." 
— Lives  of  the  Poets,  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.  The 
Beggar''s  0])era,  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.] 

3.  Jerry  Collier's  controversy  with  Congreve,  etc.,  on  the  sub- 
ject of  the  drama,  is  too  well  known  to  require  further  comment. 

[Jeremy  Collier  (1650-1726),  non-juring  bishop  and  divine. 
The  occasion  of  his  controversy  with  Congreve  was  the 
publication  of  his  Short  View  of  the  hnmorality  and  Pro- 
faneness  of  the  English  Stage  (1697-8).  Congreve,  who  had 
been  attacked  by  name,  replied  in  a  tract  entitled  Amend- 
meiits  upon  Mr.  Collier'' s  false  and  imperfect  citations  from 
the  Old  Batcheleur,  etc.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  417 

Then  spare  our  stage,  ye  methodistic  men  ! 

Nor  burn  damned  Drury  if  it  rise  again.^ 

But  why  to  brain-scorched  bigots  thus  appeal  ? 

Can  heavenly  Mercy  dwell  with  earthly  Zeal  ? 

For  times  of  fire  and  faggot  let  them  hope  ! 

Times  dear  alike  to  puritan  or  Pope. 

As  pious  Calvin  saw  Servetus  blaze, 

So  would  new  sects  on  newer  victims  gaze. 

E'en  now  the  songs  of  Solyma  begin ; 

Faith  cants,  perplexed  apologist  of  Sin  !  380 

While  the  Lord's  servant  chastens  whom  he  loves, 

And  Simeon  kicks,*^  where  Baxter  only  "  shoves."  ^ 


1.  [A  few  months  after  lines  370-381  were  added  to  The 
Hints,  in  September,  18 12,  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  Febmary  24, 
1809.   He  subsequently  joined  the  Committee  of  Management.] 

2.  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,  "  No  hopes  for  them 
as  laiighsr—\J\\Q  Rev.  Charles  Simeon  (175 8-1 836)  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.  Farish),  to  whom  he  sub- 
mitted the  MS.  of  a  rejoinder  to  Pearson's  Cautions,  etc, 
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 
Memoirs  of  the  Life  of  the  Rev.  Mr,  Simeon,  by  Rev.  W.  Carus 
(1847),  pp.  195,  282,  etc.)] 

3.  Baxter^s  Shove  to  hea'uy-a — d  Chi-isttans,  the  veritable 

VOL.     1.  2    K 


4l8  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Whom  Nature  guides,  so  writes,  that  every  dunce,'- 
Enraptured,  thinks  to  do  the  same  at  once ; 
But  after  inky  thumbs  and  bitten  nails,'^ 
And  twenty  scattered  quires,  the  coxcomb  fails. 

Let  Pastoral  be  dumb  ;  for  who  can  hope 
To  match  the  youthful  eclogues  of  our  Pope  ? 
Yet  his  and  Philips'  ^  faults,  of  different  kind. 
For  Art  too  rude,  for  Nature  too  refined,'''-  390 

Instruct  how  hard  the  medium  'tis  to  hit 
'Twixt  too  much  polish  and  too  coarse  a  wit. 

A  vulgar  scribbler,  certes,  stands  disgraced 
In  this  nice  age,  when  all  aspire  to  taste ; 
The  dirty  language,  and  the  noisome  jest. 
Which  pleased  in  Swift  of  yore,  we  now  detest ; 

i.    Whom  Nature  guides  so  writes  that  he  who  sees 

Enraptured  thinks  to  do  the  same  with  ease. — \^i\IS.  M.] 
ii.  Bjit  after  toil-inked  thumbs  and  bitten  nails 

Scratched  head,  ten  quires — the  easy  scribbler  fails. — 

S^MS.  L.  {a).] 
iii.   The  one  too  rustic,  t'other  too  refined.— \_MS.  L.  (a  and  b).'\ 

title  of  a  book  once  in  good  repute,  and  likely  enough  to  be 
so  again.  ["  Baxter "  is  a  slip  of  the  pen.  The  tract  or 
sermon,  A71  Effectual  Shove  to  the  heavy-arse  Christian,  \v2iS, 
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.] 

I.  [Ambrose  Philips  (1675  ?-i749)  published  his  Epistle 
to  the  Earl  of  Dorset  and  his  Pastorals  in  1709.  It  is  said 
that  Pope  attacked  him  in  his  satires  in  consequence  of  an 
article  in  the  Guardian^  in  which  the  Pastorals  were  unduly 
extolled.  His  verses,  addressed  to  the  children  of  his 
patron.  Lord  Carteret,  were  parodied  by  Henry  Carey,  in 
Namby  Paniby,  or  a  Panegyric  on  the  New  Versification.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  419 

Proscribed  not  only  in  the  world  polite/- 
But  even  too  nasty  for  a  City  Knight ! 

Peace  to  Swift's  faults  !  his  wit  hath  made  them  pass, 
Unmatched  by  all,  save  matchless  Hudibras  !  400 

Whose  author  is  perhaps  the  first  we  meet, 
Who  from  our  couplet  lopped  two  final  feet ; 
Nor  less  in  merit  than  the  longer  line. 
This  measure  moves  a  favourite  of  the  Nine. 
Though  at  first  view  eight  feet  may  seem  in  vain 
Formed,  save  in  Ode,  to  bear  a  serious  strain,"- 
Yet  Scott  has  shown  our  wondering  isle  of  late 
This  measure  shrinks  not  from  a  theme  of  weight, 
And,  varied  skilfully,  surpasses  far 

Heroic  rhyme,  but  most  in  Love  and  War,  410 

Whose  fluctuations,  tender  or  sublime, 
Are  curbed  too  much  by  long-recurring  rhyme. 

But  many  a  skilful  judge  abhors  to  see, 
What  few  admire — irregularity. 
This  some  vouchsafe  to  pardon ;  but  'tis  hard 
When  such  a  word  contents  a  British  Bard. 

And  must  the  Bard  his  glowing  thoughts  confine,"'- 
Lest  Censure  hover  o'er  some  faulty  line  ? 

i.   Offensive  most  to  men  with  house  and  land 

Possessed  of  Pedigree  and  bloody  hand.—[AfS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.   Composed  for  any  but  the  lightest  strain,— \^MS.  L.  (a). J 
iii.  And  must  I  thctt  my .—\^MS.  L.  (a).] 


420  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Remove  whate'er  a  critic  may  suspect, 

To  gain  the  paltry  suffrage  of  "  Correct''  )  420 

Or  prune  the  spirit  of  each  daring  phrase. 

To  fly  from  Error,  not  to  merit  Praise  ? 

Ye,  who  seek  finished  models,  never  cease,'- 
By  day  and  night,  to  read  the  works  of  Greece. 
But  our  good  Fathers  never  bent  their  brains 
To  heathen  Greek,  content  with  native  strains. 
The  few  who  read  a  page,  or  used  a  pen, 
Were  satisfied  with  Chaucer  and  old  Ben ; 
The  jokes  and  numbers  suited  to  their  taste 
Were  quaint  and  careless,  anything  but  chaste;        430 
Yet,  whether  right  or  wrong  the  ancient  rules, 
It  will  not  do  to  call  our  Fathers  fools ! 
Though  you  and  I,  who  eruditely  know 
To  separate  the  elegant  and  low, 
Can  also,  when  a  hobbling  line  appears, 
Detect  with  fingers — in  default  of  ears. 

In  sooth  I  do  not  know,  or  greatly  care 
To  learn,  who  our  first  English  strollers  were ; 
Or  if,  till  roofs  received  the  vagrant  art, 
Our  Muse,  like  that  of  Thespis,  kept  a  cart ;  440 

But  this  is  certain,  since  our  Shakespeare's  days, 
There's  pomp  enough— if  little  else — in  plays ; 

i.    Ye  who  require  Improvement. — \,MS.  L.  (a).] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  42 1 

Nor  will  Melpomene  ascend  her  Throne ' 
Without  high  heels,  white  plume,  and  Bristol  stone. 

Old  Comedies  still  meet  with  much  applause, 
Though  too  licentious  for  dramatic  laws ; 
At  least,  we  moderns,  wisely,  'tis  confest, 
Curtail,  or  silence,  the  lascivious  jest.*'- 

Whate'er  their  follies,  and  their  faults  beside, 
Our  enterprising  Bards  pass  nought  untried  ;  450 

Nor  do  they  merit  slight  applause  who  choose 
An  English  subject  for  an  English  Muse, 
And  leave  to  minds  which  never  dare  invent 
French  flippancy  and  German  sentiment. 
Where  is  that  living  language  which  could  claim 
Poetic  more,  as  philosophic,  fame. 
If  all  our  Bards,  more  patient  of  delay, 
Would  stop,  like  Pope,  to  polish  by  the  way  ?  ^ 

Lords  of  the  quill,  whose  critical  assaults 
O'erthrow  whole  quartos  with  their  quires  of  faults,'"    460 

i.  And  Tragedy,  luhaJever  stuff  he  spoke 

Now  wants  high  heels,  long  s^vord  and  velvet  cloak. — 

[MS.  L.  [a)  erased.] 
ii.   Curtail  or  silence  the  offensive  Jest. — [MS.  M.] 

Curtail  the  personal  or  smutty  jest. — [MS.  L.  {a)  ei-ased.] 
ill.   O'erthrow  whole  books  with  all  their  hosts  of  faults. — 

[MS.  L.  {a).-\ 

I.  [See  letters  to  Murray,  Sept.  15,  1817  ;  Jan.  25,  1819  ; 
Mar.  29,  1820;  Nov.  4,  1820  ;  etc.  See  also  the  two  Letters 
against  Bowles,  written  at  Ravenna,  Feb.  7  and  Mar.  21, 1821, 
in  which  Byron's  enthusiastic  reverence  for  Pope  is  the 
dominant  note.] 


42  2  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Who  soon  detect,  and  mark  where'er  we  fail, 
And  prove  our  marble  with  too  nice  a  nail  I 
Democritus  himself  was  not  so  bad ; 
He  only  thought — but  you  would  make  us — mad  ! 

But  truth  to  say,  most  rhymers  rarely  guard 
Against  that  ridicule  they  deem  so  hard ; 
In  person  negligent,  they  wear,  from  sloth, 
Beards  of  a  week,  and  nails  of  annual  growth ; 
Reside  in  garrets,  fly  from  those  they  meet, 
And  walk  in  alleys  rather  than  the  street.  470 

With  little  rhyme,  less  reason,  if  you  please, 
The  name  of  Poet  may  be  got  with  ease, 
So  that  not  tuns  of  helleboric  juice  ^• 
Shall  ever  turn  your  head  to  any  use ; 
Write  but  like  Wordsworth — live  beside  a  lake, 
And  keep  your  bushy  locks  a  year  from  Blake ;  * 
Then  print  your  book,  once  more  return  to  town. 
And  boys  shall  hunt  your  Bardship  up  and  down.  ^ 

i.  So  that  not  Hellebore  with  all  its  juice. — \MS.  L.  (a).] 

1.  As  famous  a  tonsor  as  Licinus  himself,  and  better  paid 
[and  may  be  like  him  a  senator,  one  day  or  other  :  no  dis- 
paragement to  the  High  Court  of  Parliament. — MS.  L.  {b)\ 
and  may,  like  him,  be  one  day  a  senator,  having  a  better 
qualification  than  one  half  of  the  heads  he  crops,  viz. — 
Independence.  [According  to  the  Scholiast,  Caesar  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.] 

2.  [There  was  some  foundation  for  this.  When  Words- 
worth and  his  sister  Dorothy  called  on  Daniel  Stuart,  editor 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  423 

Am  I  not  wise,  if  such  some  poets'  plight, 
To  purge  in  spring — Hke  Bayes  ^ — before  I  write  ?      480 
If  this  precaution  softened  not  my  bile, 
I  know  no  scribbler  with  a  madder  style ; 
But  since  (perhaps  my  feelings  are  too  nice) 
I  cannot  purchase  Fame  at  such  a  price, 
I'll  labour  gratis  as  a  grinders'  wheel,'- 
And,  blunt  myself,  give  edge  to  other's  steel, 
Nor  write  at  all,  unless  to  teach  the  art 
To  those  rehearsing  for  the  Poet's  part ; 
From  Horace  show  the  pleasing  paths  of  song,"- 
And  from  my  own  example — what  is  wrong.  490 

Though  modern  practice  sometimes  difters  quite, 
'Tis  just  as  well  to  think  before  you  write ; 

i.  r II  act  instead  of  whetstone — blunted,  but 

Of  use  to  make  another's  razor  cut. — \^MS.  L.  (c).] 
ii.  From  Horace  show  the  better  arts  of  song. — [MS.  L.  {a).'\ 

of  the  Courier,  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.] 

I.  \^^  Bayes.  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  fier>'  flights  of  fancy,  you  must  have  a  care  of  the  pensive 
part.  In  fine,  you  must  purge." — Rehearsal,  act  ii.  sc.  i. 
This  passage  is  instanced  by  Johnson  as  a  proof  that 
"  Bayes  "  was  a  caricature  of  Drj'den.  "  Bayes,  when  he  is 
to  write,  is  blooded  and  purged  ;  this,  as  Lamotte  relates, 
.  .  .  was  the  real  practice  of  the  poet," — Lives  of  the  Poets 
(1890),  i.  388.] 


X 


4^4  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Let  every  book  that  suits  your  theme  be  read, 
So  shall  you  trace  it  to  the  fountain-head. 

He  who  has  learned  the  duty  which  he  owes 
To  friends  and  country,  and  to  pardon  foes ; 
Who  models  his  deportment  as  may  best 
Accord  with  Brother,  Sire,  or  Stranger-guest ; 
Who  takes  our  Laws  and  Worship  as  they  are, 
Nor  roars  reform  for  Senate,  Church,  and  Bar ;         500 
In  practice,  rather  than  loud  precept,  wise. 
Bids  not  his  tongue,  but  heart,  philosophize : 
Such  is  the  man  the  Poet  should  rehearse, 
As  joint  exemplar  of  his  life  and  verse. 

Sometimes  a  sprightly  wit,  and  tale  well  told, 
Without  much  grace,  or  weight,  or  art,  will  hold 
A  longer  empire  o'er  the  public  mind 
Than  sounding  trkles,  empty,  though  refined. 

Unhappy  Greece  !  thy  sons  of  ancient  days 
The  Muse  may  celebrate  with  perfect  praise,  510 

^Vhose  generous  children  narrowed  not  their  hearts 
With  Commerce,  given  alone  to  Arms  and  Arts.*- 
Our  boys  (save  those  whom  public  schools  compel 
To  "  Long  and  Short "  before  they're  taught  to  spell) 
From  frugal  fathers  soon  imbibe  by  rote, 
"  A  penny  saved,  my  lad,  's  a  penny  got." 

i.    To  Trade,  but  gave  their  Jiours  to  arms  and  arts.— {MS.  L.  [a).] 
JVifh  traffic— [MS.  L.  {b).] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  425 

Babe  of  a  city  birth  !  from  sixpence  take  '• 
The  third,  how  much  will  the  remainder  make  ? — 
"  A  groat." — "  Ah,  bravo  !  Dick  hath  done  the  smn  !  "• 
He'll  swell  my  fifty  thousand  to  a  Plum."  ^  520 

They  whose  young  souls  receive  this  rust  betimes, 
'Tis  clear,  are  fit  for  anything  but  rhymes ; 
And  Locke  will  tell  you,  that  the  father's  right 
Who  hides  all  verses  from  his  children's  sight ; 
For  Poets  (says  this  Sage,-  and  many  more,) 
Make  sad  mechanics  with  their  lyric  lore :  "'• 
And  Delphi  now,  however  rich  of  old, 
Discovers  little  silver,  and  less  gold, 

i.  Babe  of  old  Thelusson  ' .—\MS.  L.  {a  and  b).] 

ii.  A  groat — ah  bravo  !    Dick's  the  boy  for  sums 

He'll  swell  my  fifty  thousand  ifito  phims. — \MS.  L.  («:).] 
iii.  Are  idle  dogs  and  {damn  them  !)  always  poor. — 

[MS.  L.  {a  and  b).] 

1.  [Cant  term  for  ^100,000.] 

2.  I  have  not  the  original  by  me,  but  the  Italian  transla- 
tion runs  as  follows  : — "  E  una  cosa  a  mio  credere  molto 
stravagante,  che  un  Padre  desideri,  o  permetta,  che  suo 
figliuolo  coltivi  e  perfezioni  questo  talento."  A  little  further 
on  :  "  Si  trovano  di  rado  nel  Parnaso  le  miniere  d'  oro  e 
d'  argento," — Educazione  dei  Fanciulli  del  SigJior  Locke 
(Venice,  1782),  ii.  87.  ["  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." — 
"  It  is  very  seldom  seen,  that  any  one  discovers  mines  of 
gold  or  silver  on  Parnassus." — Some  Thoughts  coiiccr7iing 
Education,  by  John  Locke  (i8So),  p.  152.] 

3.  [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.] 


426  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Because  Parnassus,  though  a  Mount  divine, 

Is  poor  as  Irus/  or  an  Irish  mine.'-  -  530 

Two  objects  always  should  the  Poet  move, 
Or  one  or  both, — to  please  or  to  improve. 
Whate'er  you  teach,  be  brief,  if  you  design 
For  our  remembrance  your  didactic  line ; 
Redundance  places  Memory  on  the  rack. 
For  brains  may  be  o'erloaded,  like  the  back."- 

Fiction  does  best  when  taught  to  look  like  Truth, 
And  fairy  fables  bubble  none  but  youth : 
Expect  no  credit  for  too  wondrous  tales, 
Since  Jonas  only  springs  alive  from  Whales  !  540 

Young  men  with  aught  but  Elegance  dispense ; 
Maturer  years  require  a  little  Sense. 
To  end  at  once  : — that  Bard  for  all  is  fit  '"'• 
Who  mingles  well  instruction  with  his  wit  j 

i.    Unlike  Potosi  holds  no  silver  mine. — \MS.  L.  (a).] 
I  Keeps  back  his  ingots  like  1 

-|  Is  rather  costive — like        >  a7i  Irish  Mine. — [MS.  L.  {b).] 
\  Is  no  Potosi,  but  \ 

ii.    IVrite  but  recite  not,  e'en  Apollo'' s  song 

Mouthed  in  a  mortal  ear  would  seem  too  long^ 
Long  as  the  last  year  of  a  lingering  lease. 
When  Revel  pauses  until  Rents  increase. — \MS.  M.  erased. \ 
iii.    To  finish  all.— [MS,  L.  {b).^ 

That  Bard  the  mask  will  fit.— [MS.  L.  {b).^ 

1.  "  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  Odyssey,  xviii.  98.) 

2.  The  Irish  gold  mine  in  Wicklow,  which  yields  just  ore 
enough  to  swear  by,  or  gild  a  bad  guinea. 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  427 

For  him  Reviews  shall  smile ;  for  him  o'erflow 
The  patronage  of  Paternoster-row  ; 
His  book,  with  Longman's  liberal  aid,  shall  pass 
(Who  ne'er  despises  books  that  bring  him  brass) ; 
Through   three   long  weeks   the   taste  of  London 

lead, 
And  cross  St.  George's  Channel  and  the  Tweed.      550 

But  every  thing  has  faults,  nor  is't  unknown 
That  harps  and  fiddles  often  lose  their  tone, 
And  wayward  voices,  at  their  owner's  call, 
With  all  his  best  endeavours,  only  squall ; 
Dogs  blink  their  covey,  flints  withhold  the  spark, 
And    double-barrels    (damn     them !)    miss     their 
mark.'  ^ 

Where    frequent    beauties    strike    the    reader's 
view, 
We  must  not  quarrel  for  a  blot  or  two ; 
But  pardon  equally  to  books  or  men. 
The  slips  of  Human  Nature,  and  the  Pen.  560 

i.  Revmge  defeats  its  object  in  the  dark 

A7id pistols  {courage  bullies!)  miss  their  mark.— [MS.  L.  (a).] 
And  pistols  {courage  duellists!)  miss  their  tnark. — 

[MS.  L.  {b).\ 

I.  As  Mr.  Pope  took  the  liberty  of  damning  Homer,  to 
whom  he  was  under  great  obligations — "  And  Homer  {damn 
him  /)  calls  " — 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. — MS, 
L.  {b)']  ;  and,  in  case  of  accident,  I  beg  leave  to  plead  so 
illustrious  a  precedent. 


428  HINTS   FROM    HORACE. 

Yet  if  an  author,  spite  of  foe  or  friend, 
Despises  all  advice  too  much  to  mend, 
But  ever  twangs  the  same  discordant  string, 
Give  him  no  quarter,  howsoe'er  he  sing. 
Let  Havard's  ^  fate  o'ertake  him,  who,  for  once. 
Produced  a  play  too  dashing  for  a  dunce : 
At  first  none  deemed  it  his ;  but  when  his  name 
Announced  the  fact — what  then  ? — it  lost  its  fame. 
Though  all  deplore  when  Milton  deigns  to  doze,'- 
In  a  long  work  'tis  fair  to  steal  repose.  570 

As  Pictures,  so  shall  Poems  be;  some  stand 
The  critic  eye,  and  please  when  near  at  hand ;  ''• 
But  others  at  a  distance  strike  the  sight ; 
This  seeks  the  shade,  but  that  demands  the  light, 
Nor  dreads  the  connoisseur's  fastidious  view, 
But,  ten  times  scrutinised,  is  ten  tmies  new. 

Parnassian  pilgrims  !  ye  whom  chance,  or  choice,"'* 
Hath  led  to  listen  to  the  Muse's  voice, 
Receive  this  counsel,  and  be  timely  wise; 
Few  reach  the  Summit  which  before  you  lies.  580 

i.   Thotigh  much  displeased. — \MS.  L.  {a  and  d).] 
ii.    The  scriitiny.—{MS.  L.  {a).\ 
iii.   Oh  ye  aspiring  youths  whom  fate  or  choice. — \MS.  L.  (a).] 

I.  For  the  story  of  Billy  Havard's  tragedy,  see  Davies's 
Life  of  Garrick.  I  believe  it  is  Fegithis,  or  Charles  the 
First  [Lincoln's  Inn  Fields,  March  i,  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  Life  of  Garrick,  by  Thomas  Davies  (1808},  ii.  205] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  429 

Our  Church   and   State,   our   Courts  and   Camps,   con- 
cede 
Reward  to  very  moderate  heads  indeed  ! 
In  these  plain  common  sense  will  travel  far ; 
All  are  not  Erskines  who  mislead  the  Bar :  '•  ^ 
But  Poesy  between  the  best  and  worst 
No  medium  knows ;  you  must  be  last  or  first  ; 
For  middling  Poets'  miserable  volumes 
Are  damned  alike  by  Gods,  and  Men,  and  Columns."- 


i.  Ail  are  not  Erskines  who  adorn  the  bar, — \^MS.  Jl/.] 

ii.    IVith  very  middling  verses  to  offend 

The  Devil  and  Jeffrey  grant  but  to  a  friend.— ^MS.  L.  {a).\ 
Though  what  "  Gods,  men,  and  columns''^  interdict. 
The  Devil  and  Jeffrey  ■  pardon— in  a  Pict.^[MS.  AT.] 

1.  [Thomas  Erskine  (third  son  of  the  fifth  Earl  of  Buchan) 
afterwards  Lord  Erskine  (i 750-1 823),  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  Recollections  of  the 
Table-Talk  of  Sajnael  Rogers  (1856),  p.  126.)] 

2.  "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  Gertrude  of  Wyoming j  and  in 
No.  31  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  (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 
British  Georgics.  It  is  fortunate  for  Campbell,  that  his 
fame  neither  depends  on  his  last  poem,  nor  the  puff  of  the 
Edinburgh  Review.  The  catalogues  of  our  English  are  also 
less  fastidious  than  the  pillars  of  the  Roman  librarians.     A 


430  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Again,  my  Jeffrey — as  that  sound  inspires,^ 
How  wakes  my  bosom  to  its  wonted  fires  !  590 

Fires,  such  as  gentle  Caledonians  feel 
When  Southrons  writhe  upon  their  critic  wheel. 
Or  mild  Eclectics,^  when  some,  worse  than  Turks, 
Would  rob  poor  Faith  to  decorate  "  Good  Works." 

word  more  with  the  author  of  Gertrude  of  l'Vyo7>iing.  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  : — 

'  Because  I  may  not  stain  with  grief 
The  death-song  of  an  Indian  chief 
"  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  *  stains^ 
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  Edinburgh  Evening  Post,  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 
'■staining''  (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  : — 

'  E'en  copious  Dryden  wanted,  or  forgot. 
The  last  and  greatest  art— the  art  to  blot/  ' "— [J/5.  M.] 

1.  [Lines  589-626  are  not  in  t\iQ Murray  MS,,  nor  in  either 
of  the  Lovelace  MSS.^ 

2.  To  the  Eclectic  or  Christian  Reviewers  I  have  to  return 
thanks  for  the  fervour  of  that  charity  which,  in  1809^  induced 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  43 ^ 

Such  are  the  genial  feelings  thou  canst  claim — 
My  Falcon  flies  not  at  ignoble  game. 

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  The  Rivals,  it  should  come  to  "  bloody  sword 
and  gun  fighting,"  we  "  won't  run,  will  we,  Sir  Lucius  1 " 
[Byron,  writing  at  Athens,  away  from  his  books,  misquotes 
The  Rivals.  The  words,  "  Sir  Lucius,  we — we — we— we 
won't  run,"  are  spoken  by  Acres,  not  by  David.]  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. — 
["  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  paper 
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  sufticient  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  declare  war  in  Westminster  Hall. 
Of  this  we  shall  no  doubt  hear  more  in  due  time  "  {Eclectic 


432  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Mightiest  of  all  Dunedin's  beasts  of  chase  ! 

For  thee  my  Pegasus  would  mend  his  pace. 

Arise,  my  Jeffrey  !  or  my  inkless  pen 

Shall  never  blunt  its  edge  on  meaner  men ;  600 

Till  thee  or  thine  mine  evil  eye  discerns, 

"  Alas  !  I  cannot  strike  at  wretched  kernes."  ^ 

Inhuman  Saxon  !  wilt  thou  then  resign 

A  Muse  and  heart  by  choice  so  wholly  thine  ? 

Dear  d — d  contemner  of  my  schoolboy  songs, 

Hast  thou  no  vengeance  for  my  Manhood's  wrongs  ? 

If  unprovoked  thou  once  could  bid  me  bleed, 

Hast  thou  no  weapon  for  my  daring  deed  ? 

What !  not  a  word  ! — and  am  I  then  so  low  ? 

Wilt  thou  forbear,  who  never  spared  a  foe?  6to 

Hast  thou  no  wrath,  or  wish  to  give  it  vent  ? 

No  wit  for  Nobles,  Dunces  by  descent? 

No  jest  on  "  minors,"  quibbles  on  a  name,- 

Nor  one  facetious  paragraph  of  blame  ? 

Is  it  for  this  on  Ilion  I  have  stood, 

And  thought  of  Homer  less  than  Holyrood  ? 

On  shore  of  Euxine  or  ^gean  sea. 

My  hate,  untravelled,  fondly  turned  to  thee. 

Review^  May,  1809).  Byron  pretends  to  believe  that  the 
"Christian"  Reviewers,  actuated  by  stern  zeal  for  piety, 
were  making  mischief  in  sober  earnest,  "  Heaviside"  (see 
last  line  of  Byron's  note)  was  the  surgeon  in  attendance  at 
the  duel  between  Lord  Falkland  and  Mr.  A.  Powell.  (See 
English  Bards,  1.  686,  tiote  2.)] 

1.  [Macbeth,  act  v.  sc.  7.] 

2.  [See  the  critique  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  on  Hours  of 
Jdletiess,  January,  1808.] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  433 

Ah !  let  me  cease  !  in  vain  my  bosom  burns, 

From  Corydon  unkind  Alexis  turns  :  ^  620 

Thy  rhymes  are  vain ;  thy  Jeffrey  then  forego, 

Nor  woo  that  anger  which  he  will  not  show. 

What  then  ? — Edina  starves  some  lanker  son, 

To  write  an  article  thou  canst  not  shun ; 

Some  less  fastidious  Scotchman  shall  be  found, 

As  bold  in  Billingsgate,  though  less  renowned. 

As  if  at  table  some  discordant  dish,^ 
Should  shock  our  optics,  such  as  frogs  for  fish ; 
As  oil  in  lieu  of  butter  men  decry, 
And  poppies  please  not  in  a  modern  pie  ;  '■  630 

If  all  such  mixtures  then  be  half  a  crime, 
We  must  have  Excellence  to  relish  rhyme. 
Mere  roast  and  boiled  no  Epicure  invites ; 
Thus  Poetry  disgusts,  or  else  delights. 

Who  shoot  not  flying  rarely  touch  a  gun  : 
Will  he  who  swims  not  to  the  river  run  ? 
And  men  unpractised  in  exchanging  knocks 
Must  go  to  Jackson "  ere  they  dare  to  box. 

i.  A7td  mustard  rarely  pleases  in  a  pie. — \MS.  L.  (rt).] 

1.  "  Invenies  alium,  si  te  hie  fastidit,  Alexin." 

2.  [Here  MS.  L.  (a)  rceommences.] 

3.  [John  Jackson  (1769-1845),  better  known  as  "Gentle- 
man" Jackson,  was  champion  of  England  from  1795  to  1803. 
His  three  fights  were  against  Fewterel  (1788),  George  Ingle- 
ston,  nicknamed  "the  Brewer"  (1789),  and  Mendoza  (i795)- 
In  1803  he  retired  from  the  ring.     His  rooms  at  13,  Bond 

VOL.  I.  2   F 


434  HINTS   FROM    HORACE. 

Whate'er  the  weapon,  cudgel,  fist,  or  foil, 

None  reach  expertness  without  years  of  toil ;        640 

But  fifty  dunces  can,  with  perfect  ease. 

Tag  twenty  thousand  couplets,  when  they  please. 

Why  not  ? — shall  I,  thus  qualified  to  sit 

For  rotten  boroughs,  never  show  my  wit  ? 

Shall  I,  whose  fathers  with  the  "  Quorum  "  sate,' 

And  lived  in  freedom  on  a  fair  estate ; 

Who  left  me  heir,  with  stables,  kennels,  packs," 

To  all  their  income,  and  to — Iwice  its  tax  ; 

Whose  form  and  pedigree  have  scarce  a  fault, 

Shall  I,  I  say,  suppress  my  Attic  Salt  ?  650 

Thus  think  "  the  Mob  of  Gentlemen  : "  but  you, 
Besides  all  this,  must  have  some  Genius  too. 
Be  this  your  sober  judgment,  and  a  rule. 
And  print  not  piping  hot  from  Southey's  school, 
Who  (ere  another  Thalaba  appears), 
I  trust,  will  spare  us  for  at  least  nine  years, 


i.  At  the  Sessions.— \^MS.  L.  [b),  iti  pencil. '\ 
ii.  Lines  647-650 — 

Whose  character  contains  no  glaring  fault  .  .  . 
Shall  I,  I  say. —IMS.  L.  (a).] 

Street,  became  the  head-quarters  of  the  Pugilistic  Club. 
(See  Pierce  Egan's  Life  in  London,  pp.  252-254,  where  the 
rooms  are  described,  and  a  drawing  of  them  by  Cniikshank 
is  given.)  Jackson's  character  stood  high.  "  From  the  highest 
to  the  lowest  person  in  the  Sporting  World,  his  decision  is 
law."  He  was  Byron's  guest  at  Cambridge,  Newstead,  and 
Brighton  ;  received  from  him  many  letters  ;  and  is  described 
by  him,  in  a  note  to  Don  Juan  {^\.  19),  as  "my  old  friend 
and  corporeal  pastor  and  master."] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  435 

And  hark'ye,  Southey  !  ^  pray — but  don't  be  vexed — 
Burn  all  your  last  three  works — and  half  the  next. 

I.  Mr.  Southey  has  lately  tied  another  canister  to  his 
tail  in  The  Curse  of  Kehafna,  maugre  the  neglect  of  Madoc^ 
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  {horresco  referens)  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  inquir}',  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  "  Felo  de  bibliopold "  against  a 
"  quarto  unknown  ;  "  and  circumstantial  evidence  being  since 
strong  against  The  Curse  of  Kehaina  (of  which  the  abo^e 
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. 

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  live  publishers  will  be  subpoenaed  as  witnesses. — But  Mr. 
Southey  has  published  The  Curse  of  Kehama^ — 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  Edinburgh 
Annual  Register  (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. 
"  Such  things,  we  know,  are  neither  rich  nor  rare, 
But  wonder  how  the  devil  he  came  there." 


436  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

But  why  this  vain  advice  ?  once  published,  books 
Can  never  be  recalled — from  pastry-cooks  !*•         660 

After  660— 

i.  But  why  this  hint — ivhat  author  ter  could  step 

His  poems'  progress  in  a  Grocer'' s  shop. — {AIS.  L.  [a).^ 

The  trio  are  well  defined  in  the  sixth  proposition  of  Euclid  : — 
"  Because,  in  the  triangles  DBC,  ACB;DBis  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  DBC  (Mr. 
Southey)  is  equal  to  the  triangle  A  C  B,  the  less  to  the 
greater,  which  is  absurd,^^  etc.— The  editor  of  the  Edinburgh 
Register  \\\\\  find  the  rest  of  the  theorem  hard  by  his  stabling  ; 
he  has  only  to  cross  the  river  ;  'tis  the  first  turnpike  t'  other 
side  Pofis  Asinoriim* 

\The  Curse  of  Kehama,  by  Robert  Southey,  was  published 
1 8 10;  Arthur,  or  The  Northern  Enchantfnent,  by  the  Rev. 
Richard  Hole,  in  1789  ;  Alfred,  by  Joseph  Cottle,  in  1801  ; 
Davideis,  by  Abraham  Cowley,  in  1656;  Richard  the  First, 
by  Sir  James  Bland  Burges,  in  1801  ;  Exodiad,  by  Sir  J. 
Bland  Burges  and  R.  Cumberland,  in  1808  ;  Exodus,  by 
Charles  Hoyle,  in  1802  ;  Epigoniad,  by  W.  Wilkie,  D.D.,  in 
1757  ;  Calvary,  by  R.  Cumberland,  in  1792  ;  Fall  of  Cam- 
bria, by  Joseph  Cottle,  in  1809  ;  Siege  of  Acre,  by  Hannah 
Cowley,  in  1801  ;  The  Vision  of  Don  Roderick,  \iy  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  in  181 1  ;  Tom  Thumb  the  Great,  by  Henry  Fielding, 
in  1730. 

The  Courier  of  July  16,  181 1,  reports  in  full  the  first  stage 
of  the  case  Sir  F.  Burdett  v.  William  Scott  {vide  ante), 
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 


*  This  Latin  has  sorely  puzzled  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh. 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." 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  437 

Though  "  Madoc,"  with  "  Pucelle,"  ^  instead  of  Punk, 
May  travel  back  to  Quito— on  a  trunk  !  - 

Orpheus,  we  learn  from  Ovid  and  Lempriere, 
Led  all  wild  beasts  but  Women  by  the  ear ; 

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.  Adultery  and  Patriotism^  London, 
1811.)] 

1.  Voltaire's  Pucelle  is  not  quite  so  immaculate  as  Mr. 
Southey's  Joan  of  Arc,  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  P>ench  strumpet,  whose  title  of 
witch  would  be  correct  with  the  change  of  the  first  letter. 

2.  Like  Sir  Bland  Burges's  Richard;  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. 

[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  Went  worth,  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  House- 
hold. Thenceforth  he  devoted  himself  to  literature.  In 
1796  he  wrote  the  Birth  and  Triumph  of  Love,  by  way  of 
letter-press  to  some  elegant  designs  of  the  Princess  Elizabeth. 
(For  Richard  the  First  and  the  Exodiad,  see  note,  p.  436.) 
His  plays.  Riches  and  Tricks  for  Travellers,  appeared  in 
1 8 10,  and  there  were  other  works.  In  spite  of  Wordsworth's 
testimony  (Wordsworth  signed,  but  Coleridge  dictated  and 
no  doubt  composed,  the  letter  :  see  Thomas  Poole  and  His 
Friends,  ii.  27)   "to  a   pure  and   unmixed  vein    of  native 


438  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

And  had  he  fiddled  at  the  present  hour, 
We'd  seen  the  Lions  waltzing  in  the  Tower ;  * 
And  old  Amphion,  such  were  minstrels  then, 
Had  built  St.  Paul's  without  the  aid  of  Wren. 
Verse  too  was  Justice,  and  the  Bards  of  Greece 
Did  more  than  constables  to  keep  the  peace ;       670 
Abolished  cuckoldom  with  much  applause, 
Called  county  meetings,  and  enforced  the  laws, 
Cut  down  crown  influence  with  reforming  scythes, 
And  served  the  Church — without  demanding  tithes ; 
And  hence,  throughout  all  Hellas  and  the  East, 
Each  Poet  was  a  Prophet  and  a  Priest, 
Whose  old-established  Board  of  Joint  Controls  ^ 
Included  kingdoms  in  the  cure  of  souls. 

Next  rose  the  martial  Homer,  Epic's  prince, 
And  Fighting's  been  in  fashion  ever  since ;  680 

And  old  Tyrtaeus,  when  the  Spartans  warred, 

English"  in  Richard  the  First  {Bland- Surges  Papers,  1885, 
p.  308),  Burges  as  a  poet  awaits  rediscover}\  His  diaries,  por- 
tions of  which  were  published  in  1885,  are  lively  and  instruc- 
tive.    He  has  been  immortalized  in  Porson's  Macaronics — 

"  Poetis  nos  laetamur  tribus, 
Pye,  Petro  Pindar,  parvo  Pybus. 
Si  ulterius  ire  pergis, 
Adde  his  Sir  James  Bland  Burges  !  "] 

1.  [Charles  Lamb,  in  ''  Christ's  Hospital  Five  and  Thirty 
Years  Ago  "  {Prose  Works,  1836,  ii.  30),  records  his  repeated 
visits,  as  a  Blue  Coat  boy,  "  to  the  Lions  in  the  Tower— to 
whose  lev^e,  by  courtesy  immemorial,  we  had  a  prescriptive 
title  to  admission."] 

2.  [Lines  677,  678  are  not  in  MS.  L.  (^).] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  439 

(A  limping  leader,  but  a  lofty  bard)  *• 
Though  walled  Ithome  had  resisted  long, 
Reduced  the  fortress  by  the  force  of  song. 

When  Oracles  prevailed,  in  times  of  old, 
In  song  alone  Apollo's  will  was  told."- 
Then  if  your  verse  is  what  all  verse  should  be, 
And  Gods  were  not  ashamed  on't,  why  should  we  ? 


The  Muse,  like  mortal  females,  may  be  wooed ;  ^ 
In  turns  she'll  seem  a  Paphian,  or  a  prude ;  690 

Fierce  as  a  bride  when  first  she  feels  affright, 
Mild  as  the  same  upon  the  second  night ; 
Wild  as  the  wife  of  Alderman  or  Peer, 
Now  for  His  Grace,  and  now  a  grenadier ! 
Her  eyes  beseem,  her  heart  belies,  her  zone — 
Ice  in  a  crowd — and  Lava  when  alone. 

If  Verse  be  studied  with  some  show  of  Art, 
Kind  Nature  always  will  perform  her  part ; 
Though  without  Genius,  and  a  native  vein 
Of  wit,  we  loathe  an  artificial  strain,  700 

Yet  Art  and  Nature  joined  will  win  the  prize, 
Unless  they  act  like  us  and  our  allies. 

i.  As  lame  as  I  ain^  but  a  better  bard.— [MS.  M.] 
ii.  Apollo's  song  the  fate  of  vieii  foretold.— \_MS.  L.  (a).] 

I .  [  Lines  689-696  are  not  in  MS.  L.  {a)  or  MS.  L.  (^).] 


440  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

The  youth  who  trains  to  ride,  or  run  a  race, 
Must  bear  privations  with  unruffled  face. 
Be  called  to  labour  when  he  thinks  to  dine, 
And,  harder  still,  leave  wenching  and  his  wine. 
Ladies  who  sing,  at  least  who  sing  at  sight, 
Have  followed  Music  through  her  farthest  flight ;  '• 
But  rhymers  tell  you  neither  more  nor  less, 
"  I've  got  a  pretty  poem  for  the  Press ; "  710 

And  that's  enough;  then  write  and  print  so  fast; — 
If  Satan  take  the  hindmost,  who'd  be  last  ? 
They  storm  the  Types,  they  publish,  one  and  all,  "■  ^ 
They  leap  the  counter,  and  they  leave  the  stall. 
Provincial  Maidens,  men  of  high  command. 
Yea  !  Baronets  have  inked  the  bloody  hand  ! 
Cash  cannot  quell  them  ;  Pollio  played  this  prank,'"- 
(Then  Phoebus  first  found  credit  in  a  Bank  !) 
Not  all  the  living  only,  but  the  dead. 
Fool  on,  as  fluent  as  an  Orpheus'  Head  ;  ^  720 

Damned  all  their  days,  they  posthumously  thrive, 
Dug  up  from  dust,  though  buried  when  alive  ! 

i.  Have  studied  with  a  Master  day  and  night. — \MS.  L.  {a,  b)."] 
ii.    T/iey  storm  Bolt  Court,  they  publish  one  and  all. — 

{MS.  M.  erased.] 

iii.  Rogers  played  this  prank. — {MS.  A/.] 

1.  [MS.  L.  {a  and  b)  continue  at  line  758.} 

2.  "  Tum  quoque  marmorea  caput  a  cervice  reviilsum, 

Gurgite  cum  medio  portans  CEagrius  Hebrus, 
Volveret  Eurj'dicen  vox  ipsa,  et  frigida  lingua  ; 
Ah,  miseram  Eiirydicen  !  anima  fugiente  vocabat ; 
Eurydicen  toto  referebant  flumine  ripae." 

Georgic^  iv.  523-527. 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  44 1 

Reviews  record  this  epidemic  crime, 
Those  Books  of  Martyrs  to  the  rage  for  rhyme. 
Alas  !  woe  worth  the  scribbler  !  often  seen 
In  Morning  Post,  or  Monthly  Magazine. 
There  lurk  his  earlier  lays ;  but  soon,  hot  pressed,'- 
^  Behold  a  Quarto  ! — Tarts  must  tell  the  rest. 
Then  leave,  ye  wise,  the  Lyre's  precarious  chords 
To  muse-mad  baronets,  or  madder  lords,"-  730 

Or  country  Crispins,  now  grown  somewhat  stale, 
Twin  Doric  minstrels,  drunk  with  Doric  ale  ! 
Hark  to  those  notes,  narcotically  soft ! 
The  Cobbler-Laureats  ^  sing  to  Capel  Loftt !  ^ 

i.    There  see  their  sonnets  first — but  Spring — hot  prest 

Beholds  a  Quarto — Tarts  must  tell  the  Rest. —[MS.  M.  erased.] 
ii.    To  fuddled  Esquires  or  to  flippant  Lords. — [MS.  M.\ 

1.  I  beg  Nathaniel's  pardon  :  he  is  not  a  cobbler ;  //  is  a 
tailor,  but  begged  Capel  Lofft  to  sink  the  profession  in  his 
preface  to  two  pair  of  panta — psha  1— of  cantos,  which  he 
wished  the  public  to  tr}-  on  ;  but  the  sieve  of  a  patron  let  it 
out,  and  so  far  saved  the  expense  of  an  advertisement  to  his 
countr}' 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  Paeans  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 ;  " 

"  And  own  that  nifie  such  poets  made  a  Tate." 
Did  Nathan  ever  read  that  line  of  Pope  ?  and  if  he  did,  why 
not  take  it  as  his  motto  ?     \A7i  Essay  on  War  j  Ho7ii7igto)i 
Gree7t,   a   Ballad,  .   .   .  a7i   Elegy  a7id  other  Poe7ns,   was 
pubHshed  in  1803.] 

2.  This  well-meaning  gentleman  has  spoiled  some  excellent 
shoemakers,  and  been  accessory  to  the  poetical  undoing  of 


442  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Till,  lo  !  that  modern  Midas,  as  he  hears,"- 
Adds  an  ell  growth  to  his  egregious  ears  !  *" 


i.    Till  lo  !  thai  moderft  Midas  of  the  swains — 

Feels  his  ears  lengthen — with  the  lengthening  strains. — 

[MS.  M.  erased.'^ 
ii.  Adds  a  week's  growth  to  his  enormous  ears. — [MS.  M.  erased.] 

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  ^clat  is  to  find  himself  a  mounte- 
bank on  the  other  side  of  Styx,  and  made,  like  poor  Joe 
Blackett,  the  laughing-stock  of  purgator>-.  The  plea  of  pub- 
lication is  to  provide  for  the  child  ;  now,  might  not  some 
of  this  Sulor  ultra  Crepidcwi's  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  dolmg  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  pufi"  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. 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  443 

There  lives  one  Druid,  who  prepares  in  time  ^ 
'Gainst  future  feuds  his  poor  revenge  of  rhyme ; 
Racks  his  dull  Memory,  and  his  duller  Muse, 
To  publish  faults  which  Friendship  should  excuse.  740 
If  Friendship's  nothing,  Self-regard  might  teach 
More  polished  usage  of  his  parts  of  speech. 
But  what  is  shame,  or  what  is  aught  to  him  ?  ' 
He  vents  his  spleen,  or  gratifies  his  whim. 

i.   But  7vhat  are  these  ?    Benefits  might  bind 

Sof/ie  decent  ties  ahojit  a  manly  mind. — [AIS.  AI.'\ 

[For  Robert  Bloomfield,  see  English  Bards,  11.  774-786, 
and  note  2.  For  Joseph  Blacket,  see  English  Bards, 
11.  765-770,  and  note  i.  Blacket's  Remams,  with  Life  by 
Pratt,  appeared  in  181 1.  The  work  was  dedicated  "  To  Her 
Grace  the  Duchess  of  Leeds,  Lady  Milbanke  and  Family, 
Benevolent  Patrons  of  the  Author,"  etc.] 

I.  [Lines  737-758  are  not  in  either  of  the  three  original 
MSS.  of  Hints  from  Horace,  and  were  probably  written 
in  the  autumn  of  iSii.  They  appear  among  a  sheet  of 
"  alterations  to  English  Bards,  and  S.  Reviewers,  continued 
with  additions "  (MSS.  L.\  drawn  up  for  the  fifth  edition, 
and  they  are  inserted  on  a  separate  sheet  in  MS.  M.  A 
second  sheet  {MSS.  L.)  of  "  scraps  of  rhyme,  .  .  .  princi- 
pally additions  and  corrections  for  E?iglish  Baj'ds,  etc."  (for 
the  fifth  edition),  some  of  which  are  dated  18 10,  does  not 
give  the  whole  passage,  but  includes  the  following  variants 
(erased)  of  lines  753-756  : — 

(i.)  '•  Then  let  thy  ponderous  quarto  steep  and  stink, 
The  dullest  fattest  weed  on  Lethe's  brink. 
Down  with  that  volume  to  the  depths  of  hell ! 
Oblivion  seems  rewarding  it  too  well." 

(ii.)  "  Yet  then  thy  quarto  still  may,"  etc. 

A  "  Druid"  (see  English  Bards,  line  741)  was  Byron's  name 
for  a  scribbler  who  wrote  for  his  living.  In  MS.  M., 
"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  ante,  line  657,  nole  i).] 


444  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Some  fancied  slight  has  roused  his  lurking  hate, 

Some  folly  crossed,  some  jest,  or  some  debate; 

Up  to  his  den  Sir  Scribbler  hies,  and  soon 

The  gathered  gall  is  voided  in  Lampoon. 

Perhaps  at  some  pert  speech  you've  dared  to  frown, 

Perhaps  your  Poem  may  have  pleased  the  Town  :    750 

If  so,  alas  !  'tis  nature  in  the  man — 

May  Heaven  forgive  you,  for  he  never  can  ! 

Then  be  it  so ;  and  may  his  withering  Bays 

Bloom  fresh  in  satire,  though  they  fade  in  praise 

While  his  lost  songs  no  more  shall  steep  and  stink 

The  dullest,  fattest  weeds  on  Lethe's  brink, 

But  springing  upwards  from  the  sluggish  mould, 

Be  (what  they  never  were  before)  be — sold  ! 

Should  some  rich  Bard  (but  such  a  monster  now,^ 

In  modern  Physics,  we  can  scarce  allow),'-  760 

Should  some  pretending  scribbler  of  the  Court, 

Some  rhyming  Peer — there's  plenty  of  the  sort —  "•  - 

i.   Ou7'  modern  sceptics  can  710  more  allozv. — \^MS.  L.  (a).] 
ii.  Some  rhyming  peer — Carlisle  or  Carysfort^ — \MS.  M.\ 

1.  S^MS.  L.  {a)  recommences  at  line  758.] 

2.  Here  will  Mr.  Gifford  allow  me  to  introduce  once  more 
to  his  notice  the  sole  survivor,  the  "  ultimus  Romanorum,'' 
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. 

A   FAMILIAR   EPISTLE    TO  THE   EDITOR   OF   THE  "  MORNING 
CHRONICLE." 

"  What  reams  of  paper,  floods  of  ink," 
Do  some  men  spoil,  who  never  think  ! 
And  so  perhaps  you'll  say  of  me, 
In  which  your  readers  may  agree. 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  445 

All  but  one  poor  dependent  priest  withdrawn, 
(Ah  !  too  regardless  of  his  Chaplain's  yawn  !) 

Still  I  write  on,  and  tell  you  why  ; 
Nothing's  so  bad,  you  can't  deny. 
But  may  instruct  or  entertain 
Without  the  risk  of  giving  pain,  etc.,  etc. 

ON    SOME   MODERN    QUACKS  AND  REFORMISTS. 

In  tracing  of  the  human  mind 

Through  all  its  various  courses, 
Though  strange,  'tis  true,  we  often  find 

It  knows  not  its  resources  : 

And  men  through  life  assume  a  part 
For  which  no  talents  they  possess, 

Yet  wonder  that,  with  all  their  art, 

They  meet  no  better  with  success,  etc.,  etc. 

[A  Familiar  Epistle^  etc.,  by  T.  Vaughan,  Esq.,  was 
published  in  the  Morning  Chronicle,  October  7,  18 11. 
Gifford,  in  the  Baviad  (1.  350),  speaks  of  "  Edwin's  mew- 
lings,"  and  in  a  note  names  "  Edwin  "  as  the  "  profound 
Mr.  T.  Vaughan."  Love's  Metamorphoses,  by  T.  Vaughan, 
was  played  at  Drury  Lane,  April  15,  1776.  He  also  wrote 
The  Hotel,  or  Double  Valet,  November  26,  1776,  which 
Jephson  rewrote  under  the  title  of  The  Serva?it  with  Two 
Masters.      Compare  Childre7t  of  Apollo,  p.  49  : — 

"  Jephson,  who  has  no  humour  of  his  own. 
Thinks  it  no  crime  to  borrow  from  the  town  ; 
The  farce  (almost  forgot)  of  The  Hotel 
Or  Double  Valet  seems  to  answer  well. 
This  and  his  own  make  Two  Strifigs  to  his  Bow.^^^ 

3.  [To  variant  ii.  (p.  444)  is  subjoined  this  note  :  "Of  John 
Joshua,  Earl  of  Car}'sfort,'  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  com- 
modious 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.'" — [John  Joshua  Proby,  first  Earl  of  Carysfort,  was 


446  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

Condemn  the  unlucky  Curate  to  recite 

Their  last  dramatic  work  by  candle-light, 

How  would  the  preacher  turn  each  rueful  leaf, 

Dull  as  his  sermons,  but  not  half  so  brief ! 

Yet,  since  'tis  promised  at  the  Rector's  death, 

He'll  risk  no  living  for  a  little  breath.  770 

Then  spouts  and  foams,  and  cries  at  every  line, 

(The  Lord  forgive  him  !)  "  Bravo  !  Grand  !  Divine  ! " 

Hoarse  with  those  praises  (which,  by  Flatt'ry  fed,'- 

Dependence  barters  for  her  bitter  bread), 

He  strides  and  stamps  along  with  creaking  boot ; 

Till  the  floor  echoes  his  emphatic  foot, 

Then  sits  again,  then  rolls  his  pious  eye,'^ 

As  when  the  dying  vicar  will  not  die  ! 

Nor  feels,  forsooth,  emotion  at  his  heart ; — 

But  all  Dissemblers  overact  their  part.  780 

Ye,  who  aspire  to  "  build  the  lofty  rhyme,"  ^ 
Believe  not  all  who  laud  your  false  "  sublime ;  " 
But  if  some  friend  shall  hear  your  work,  and  say, 
"  Expunge  that  stanza,  lop  that  line  away," 


i.  Hoarse  with  bepraising,  and  half  cJ/oaked  with  lies, 

Sweat  oil  his  brow  and  tear  drops  in  his  eyes. —  \MS.  L.  (c).] 
ii.    Then  sits  again^  then  shakes  his  piteous  head 

As  if  the  Vicar  were  already  dead. — \^iMS.  L.  {a).] 

joint  postmaster-general  in  1805,  envoy  to  Berlin  in  1806, 
and  ambassador  to  Petersburgh  in  1807.  Besides  his  poems 
{Dramatic  aJid  Miscellaneous  Works,  18 10),  he  published 
two  pamphlets  (1780, 1783),  to  show  the  necessity  of  universal 
suffrage  and  short  parliaments.  He  died  in  1828.] 
I.  [See  Milton's  Lycidas.'] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  447 

And,  after  fruitless  efforts,  you  return 

Without  amendment,  and  he  answers,  "  Burn  I" 

That  instant  throw  your  paper  in  the  fire, 

Ask  not  his  thoughts,  or  follow  his  desire ; 

But  (if  true  Bard  !)  you  scorn  to  condescend,*- 

And  will  not  alter  what  you  can't  defend,  790 

If  you  will  breed  this  Bastard  of  your  Brains,' 

We'll  have  no  words — I've  only  lost  my  pains. 

Yet,  if  you  only  prize  your  favourite  thought, 
As  critics  kindly  do,  and  authors  ought ; 
If  your  cool  friend  annoy  you  now  and  then, 
And  cross  whole  pages  with  his  plaguy  pen ; 
No  matter,  throw  your  ornaments  aside, — 
Better  let  him  than  all  the  world  deride. 
Give  light  to  passages  too  much  in  shade. 
Nor  let  a  doubt  obscure  one  verse  you've  made ;  800 
Your  friend's  a  "  Johnson,"  not  to  leave  one  word. 
However  trifling,  which  may  seem  absurd ; 
Such  erring  trifles  lead  to  serious  ills, 
And  furnish  food  for  critics,  or  their  quills. ^ 

As  the  Scotch  fiddle,  with  its  touching  tune, 
Or  the  sad  influence  of  the  angry  Moon, 

i.  But  if  you''re  too  conceited  to  amend. — \^MS.  L.  {^?)-] 

1.  Minerva  being  the  first  by  Jupiter's  head-piece,  and  a 
variety  of  equally  unaccountable  parturitions  upon  earth, 
such  as  Madoc,  etc.  etc. 

2.  "A  crust  for  the  critics." — Baycs^  in  '^ the  Rehearsal" 
[act  ii.  so.  2]. 


448  HINTS    FROM    HORACE. 

All  men  avoid  bad  writers'  ready  tongues 

As  yawning  waiters  fly  ^  Fitzscribble's  lungs ; '" 

Yet  on  he  mouths — ten  minutes — tedious  each  "■  ^ 

As  Prelate's  homily,  or  placeman's  speech;  8io 

Long  as  the  last  years  of  a  lingering  lease, 

"When  Riot  pauses  until  Rents  increase. 

While  such  a  minstrel,  muttering  fustian,  strays 

O'er  hedge  and  ditch,  through  unfrequented  ways. 

If  by  some  chance  he  walks  into  a  well, 

And  shouts  for  succour  with  stentorian  yell, 

"  A  rope  !  help.  Christians,  as  ye  hope  for  grace  ! " 

Nor  woman,  man,  nor  child  will  stir  a  pace ; 

For  there  his  carcass  he  might  freely  fling,  "^ 

From  frenzy,  or  the  humour  of  the  thing.  820 

Though  this  has  happened  to  more  Bards  than  one ; 

I'll  tell  you  Budgell's  story, — and  have  done. 

Budgell,  a  rogue  and  rhymester,  for  no  good, 
(Unless  his  case  be  much  misunderstood) 

i.   On  pain  of  suffering  fro  in  their  pen  or  tongues. — 

IMS.  M.  erased. 'X 

fly  Fitzgerald^ s  lungs.— [MS.  M.] 

ii.  A/i  when  Bards  mouth  !  how  sympathetic  Time 

Stagnates,  and  Hours  stand  still  to  hear  their  rhyme. — 

IMS.  M.  erased.  \ 
ill.  Besides  how  know  ye  ?  that  he  did  not  fling 

Himself  there— for  the  humour  of  the  thing. — [MS.  A/.] 

1.  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  !  "     [See  English  Bards.,  line  i  and  note  3.] 

2.  [Lines  813-816  not  in  MS.  L.  {a)  or  MS.  Z.  {b).] 


HINTS    FROM    HORACE.  449 

When  teased  with  creditors'  continual  claims, 

"  To  die  Hke  Cato,"  *  leapt  into  the  Thames  ! 

And  therefore  be  it  lawful  through  the  town 

For  any  Bard  to  poison,  hang,  or  drown. 

Who  saves  the  mtended  Suicide  receives 

Small  thanks  from  him  who  loathes  the  life  he  leaves  ;  '• 

And,  sooth  to  say,  mad  poets  must  not  lose  St, i 

The  Glory  of  that  death  they  freely  choose. 

Nor  is  it  certain  that  some  sorts  of  verse  '*• 
Prick  not  the  Poet's  conscience  as  a  curse ; 


i.  Small  thanksy  utnvdcotne  life  he  quickly  leaves  ; 

And  raving  poets — really  should  not  lose. — [MS.  M.] 
ii.       N^or  is  it  clearly  understood  that  verse 

Has  not  been  given  the  poet  for  a  curse  ; 

Perhaps  he  sent  the  parson^ s  pig  to  pounds 

Or  got  a  child  on  consecrated  ground  ; 

But,  be  this  as  it  may,  his  rhyming  rage 

Exceeds  a  Bear  who  strives  to  break  his  cage. 

If  free,  all  fly  his  versifying  fit ; 

The  young,  the  old,  the  simpleton  and  wit. — \_MS.  L.  {a).] 

I.  On  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  !  [Eustace  Budgell  (1686-1737),  a 
friend  and  relative  of  Addison's,  "  leapt  into  the  Thames " 
to  escape  the  dishonour  which  attached  to  him  in  con- 
nection with  Dr.  Tindal's  will,  and  the  immediate  pressure 
of  money  difficulties.  He  was,  more  or  less,  insane.  "  We 
talked  (says  Boswell)  of  a  man's  drowning  himself.  I  put 
the  case  of  Eustace  Budgell.  '  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  ? '  Johnson. 
'  Then,  sir,  let  him  go  abroad  to  a  distant  country  ;  let  him 

VOL.  I.  2  G 


45©  HINTS  FROM    HORACE. 

Dosed  ^  with  vile  drams  on  Sunday  he  was  found, 

Or  got  a  child  on  consecrated  ground  ! 

And  hence  is  haunted  with  a  rhyming  rage — 

Feared  like  a  bear  just  bursting  from  his  cage. 

If  free,  all  fly  his  versifying  fit, 

Fatal  at  once  to  Simpleton  or  Wit :  840 

But  hini^  unhappy  !  whom  he  seizes, — hbn 

He  flays  with  Recitation  limb  by  limb ; 

Probes  to  the  quick  where'er  he  makes  his  breach, 

And  gorges  like  a  Lawyer — or  a  Leech. 

go  to  some  place  where  he  is  not  known.  Don't  let  him  go 
to  the  devil,  where  he  w known.'" — Boswell's  Life  ofJohnso7i 
(1886),  p.  281.] 

I.  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. 


[The  last  page  of  MS.  M.  is  dated— 
Byron, 

Capuchin  Convent, 

Athens.     March  i^fh,  i8ii. 
The  following  memorandum,  in    Byron's  handwriting,  is 
also  inscribed  on  the  last  page  :  "  722  lines,  and  4  inserted 
after  and  now  counted,  in  all  726. — B.     Since  this  several 
lines  are  added. — B.  Jmie  14th,  181 1. 

"  Copied  fair  at  Malta,  May  3rd,  181 1. — B." 
Byron, 

March  11th  and  I2thy 

Athens.  iZil.— [MS.  L.  [a).] 
Byron,  March  i/^th,  181 1. 

Athens,  Capuchin  Convent.— [iJ/^".  L.  (^).]] 


THE  CURSE  OF  MINERVA 


"  Pallas  te  hoc  vulnere,  Pallas 

Immolat,  et  poenam  scelerato  ex  sanguine  sumit." 

/^■neid,  lib.  xii.  947,  94S. 


Note  I. — In  The  Malediction  of  Minerva  {New  Monthly 
Magazine,  vol.  iii.  p.  240)  additional  footnotes  are  appended 
(i)  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  (2)  to  line  196,  giving  quotations  from  pp. 
158,  269,  419  of  Eustace's  Classical  Tour  in  Italy.  After 
line  130,  which  reads,  "And  well  I  know  within  that  murky- 
land  "  {i.e.  Caledonia),  the  following  apology  for  a  hiatus  was 
inserted  :  "  Here  follows  in  the  original  certain  lines  which 
the  editor  has  exercised  his  discretion  by  suppressing  ;  inas- 
much 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  en  7nasse  for  the  faults  of  an  individual." 

Note  IL — The  text  of  The  Curse  of  Minerva  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 
The  Cttf'se,  etc.,  Philadelphia,  181 5,  8vo  [printed  by  De 
Silver  and  Co.],  was  followed  by  Galignani  (third  edit.,  i8i8, 
etc.).  The  same  text  is  followed,  but  not  invariably,  in  the 
selections  printed  by  Hone  in  1816  (iii  lines) ;  Wilson,  181 8 
(112  lines);  and  Knight  and  Lacy,  1824  (iii  lines).  It 
exhibits  the  following  variants  from  the  quarto  of  1813  : — 

Line.  Line. 

56.  lands  and  main.  199.  Loathed  i^iroughoiit    life — 

81.  Her  helm  was  deep  indented  scarce  pardon'' d   in    the 

and  her  lance.  dust. 

94.  Seek'st  thou  the  cause  ?     O  203.  Erostratus  and  Elgin,  etc. 

mortal,  look  around.  206,  viler  than  the  first. 

102.    That  Hadrian 222.  S/iall  shake  your  usurpa- 

116.    IVie  last  base  brute tion  to  its  base. 

143.   Ten   thousand   schemes   of  233.  IVhile  Lusitania 

petulance  and  pride.  273.  Then  in  the  Senate 

152.  victors  o^er  the  grave.  290.  decorates  his  pall. 

1 62.  Time  shall  tell  the  rest. 

The  following  variants  may  also  be  noted  : — 

Line. 

I.  Slow  sinks  noiv  lovely,  etc. — ^Hone.'X 

no.    The  Gothic  monarch  and  the  British . — [i¥.] 

and  his  fit  compeer. — [Wilson.] 

131.  And  ivell  I knoiv  ivithin  that  murky  land. 

Dispatched  her  reckoning  children  far  and  wide. — [H.\ 

And  loell  I  knozu,  albeit  afar,  the  land, 

Where  starving  Avarice  keeps  her  chosen  band ; 

Or  sends  their  hungry  numbers  eager  forth, 

And  aye  accursed,  etc. — \W.\ 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  CURSE  OF  MINERVA. 


The  Ctcrse  of  Minerva^  which  was  written  at  Athens,  and 
is  dated  March  17,  181 1,  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  English  Bards,  included  the  issue  of  a  separate 
volume,  containing  Htnls  from  Horace  and  The  Ctirse  of 
Minerva;  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. 
The  quarto  edition  of  The  Curse  of  Minerva,  printed  by 
T.  Davison  in  1812,  was  probably  set  up  at  the  same  time 
as  Murray's  quarto  edition  of  Childe  Harold,  and  reserved 
for  private  circulation.  With  or  without  Byron's  consent,  the 
poem  as  a  whole  was  published  in  Philadelphia  [.''  London] 
by  De  Silver  and  Co.,  181 5,  8vo  (see  p.  452,  7iote).  In  a  letter 
to  Murray,  March  6,  18 16,  he  says  that  he  "disowns"  TJie 
Curse,  etc.f  "as  stolen  and  published  in  a  miserable  and 
villainous  copy  in  the  magazine."  The  reference  is  to  The 
Malediction  of  Minerva,  or  The  Athefiia?i  Marble- Market, 
which  appeared  in  the  New  Monthly  Magazine  for  April, 

1815,  vol.  iii.  240.  It  numbers  11 1  lines,  and  is  signed 
"Steropes"  (The  Lightner,  a  Cyclops).  The  text  of  the 
magazine,  with  the  same  additional  footnotes,  but  under  the 
title  of  The  Curse,  etc.,  was  republished  in  the  eighth  edition 
oi  Poetns  on  His  Domestic  Circumstances,  W.  Hone,  London, 

18 1 6,  8vo,  and,  thenceforth,  in  other  piratical  issues.  What- 
ever may  have  been  his  feelings  or  intentions  in  18 12,  four 
years  later  Byron  was  well  aware  that  The  Curse  of  Minerva 
would  not  increase  his  reputation  as  a  poet,  while  the  object 


454  THE   CURSE   OF    MINERVA. 

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  Childe  Harold. 
"Disown"  it  as  he  might,  his  words  were  past  recall,  and 
both  indictments  stand  in  his  name. 

Byron  was  prejudiced  against  Elgin  before  he  started  on 
his  tour.  He  had,  perhaps,  glanced  at  the  splendid  folio, 
Specimeiis  of  Ancient  Sculpture,  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  cogno- 
scenti, and,  in  accordance  with  his  views,  Elgin  and  Aber- 
deen are  held  up  to  ridicule  in  English  Bards  (second  edition, 
October,  1809,  1.  1007,  and  note)  as  credulous  and  extrava- 
gant collectors  of  "  maimed  antiques."  It  was,  however,  not 
till  the  first  visit  to  Athens  (December,  1809— March,  18 10), 
when  he  saw  with  his  own  eyes  the  "  ravages  of  barbarous 
and  antiquarian  despoilers  "  (Lord  Broughton's  Travels  in 
Albania,  1858,  i.  259),  that  contempt  gave  way  to  indigna- 
tion, and  his  wrath  found  vent  in  the  pages  of  Childe 
Harold. 

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 


THE   CURSE   OF   MINERVA.  455 

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  qiialche  pezzi  di  pietra,  still  ran,  and  Don  Tita 
Lusieri,  the  Italian  artist,  who  remained  in  Elgin's  service, 
was  still,  like  the  cajies  veiiatici  (American^,  "  smell-dogs  ") 
employed  by  Verres  in  Sicily  (see  Childe  Harold^  canto  ii. 
St.  12,  note),  finding  fresh  relics,  and  still  bewailing  to 
sympathetic  travellers  the  hard  fate  which  compelled  him 
to  despoil  the  temples  vialgre  lui.  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.  Hamil- 
ton, 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  countr}^ 
and  of  having  money  spent  there  "  {Memoir  on  the  Earl 
of  ElgifCs  Pursuits  iji  Greece,  181 1).  On  the  other  hand, 
the  traveller,  Edward  Daniel  Clarke,  with  whom  Byron 
corresponded  (see  Childe  Harold,  canto  ii.  st.  12,  note)^ 
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 " 
{Travels  in  Varioics  Countries,  part  ii.  sect.  ii.  p.  483). 

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, 
1 8 13) — make  use  of  such  phrases  as  "  shattered  desola- 
tion," "  wanton  devastation  and  avidity  of  plunder."  Even 
Michaelis,  the  great  archaeologist,  who  denounces  The  Curse 
of  Minerva  as  a  "  libellous  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 "  {Ancient 
Marbles  iji  Great  Britain,  by  A.  Michaelis,  translated  by 
C.  A.    M.    Fennell,    1882,   p.  135).      Highly   coloured  and 


45  6  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

emotional  as  some  of  these  phrases  may  be,  they  explain, 
if  they  do  not  justify,  the  sceva  indignatio  of  Byron's  satire. 

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  further- 
ance of  art  the  perishable  fragments  of  Phidian  workman- 
ship, 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  Life  of 
Hay  don,  i.  84),  and  the  logic  of  events  had  not  justified  a 
sad  necessity. 


'4 


THE  CURSE  OF  MINERVA, 

Pallas  te  hoc  Vulnere  Pallas 
Immolat  et  poenam  scelerato  ex  Sanguine  Sumit. 


Athens:  Capuchin  Convp:nt,  March  17,  iSii, 

y 

Slow  sinks,  more  lovely  ere  his  race  be  run,^ 

Along  Morea's  hills  the  setting  Sun ; 

Not,  as  in  northern  climes,  obscurely  bright, 

But  one  unclouded  blaze  of  living  light ; 

O'er  the  hushed  deep  the  yellow  beam  he  throws,i- 

Gilds  the  green  wave  that  trembles  as  it  glows ; 

On  old  yEgina's  rock  and  Hydra's  isle  ^ 

i.   0''er  the  blue  ocean  ivay  his. — [MS.] ' 

1.  [The  lines  (1-54)  with  which  the  Satire  begins,  down  to 
"As  thus,  within  the  walls  of  Pallas'  fane,"  first  appeared 
(18 14)  as  the  opening  stanza  of  the  Third  Canto  of  The 
Corsair.  At  that  time  the  publication  of  The  Oirse  of 
Minerva  had  been  abandoned.  (See  Byron's  note  to  The 
Corsair,  Canto  III.  st.  i.  line  i.)] 

2.  [Idra  ;  The  Corsair,  III.  st.  i.  line  7.  Hydra,  or  Hydrea, 
is  an  island  on  the  east  coast  of  the  Peloponnese,  between  the 
gulfs  of  Nauplia  and  ^4^gina.  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.] 

3.  [The  only  MS.  of  The  Curse  0/  Minerva  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. J 


458  THE   CURSE   OF    MINERVA. 

The  God  of  gladness  sheds  his  parting  smile ; 
O'er  his  own  regions  lingering  loves  to  shine, 
Though  there  his  altars  are  no  more  divine.*-  lo 

Descending  fast,  the  mountain-shadows  kiss 
Thy  glorious  Gulf,  unconquered  Salamis  ! 
Their  azure  arches  through  the  long  expanse,'^ 
More  deeply  purpled,  meet  his  mellowing  glance, 
And  tenderest  tints,  along  their  summits  driven, 
Mark  his  gay  course,  and  own  the  hues  of  Heaven ; 
Till,  darkly  shaded  from  the  land  and  deep. 
Behind  his  Delphian  rock  he  sinks  to  sleep."*- 

On  such  an  eve  his  palest  heam  he  cast 
When,  Athens  !  here  thy  Wisest  looked  his  last.     20 
How  watched  thy  better  sons  his  farewell  ray, 
That  closed  their  murdered  Sage's  ^  latest  day  ! 
Not  yet — not  yet — Sol  pauses  on  the  hill, 
The  precious  hour  of  parting  lingers  still ; 
But  sad  his  light  to  agonizing  eyes. 
And  dark  the  mountain's  once  delightful  dyes ; 
Gloom  o'er  the  lovely  land  he  seemed  to  pour. 
The  land  where  Phoebus  never  frowned  before ; 
But  ere  he  sunk  below  Cithaeron's  head. 
The  cup  of  Woe  was  quaffed — the  Spirit  fled ;        30 

i.  Nor  yet  forbears  each  long-abandoned  shrine. — [MS.'\ 
ii.    Their  varyiftg  azure  mingled  ivith  the  sky 

Beneath  his  rays  assumes  a  deeper  dye. — \^MS.'\ 
iii.  Behind  his  Delphian  cliff .—^Corsair,  III.  st.  i.  1.  18.] 

I.  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. 


THE   CURSE   OF    MINERVA.  459 

The  soul  of  Him  that  scorned  to  fear  or  fly,'- 
Who  lived  and  died  as  none  can  live  or  die. 

But  lo  !  from  high  Hymettus  to  the  plain 
The  Queen  of  Night  asserts  her  silent  reign  ;  "•  ^ 
No  murky  vapour,  herald  of  the  storm,'"- 
Hides  her  fair  face,  or  girds  her  glowing  form ; 
With  cornice  glimmering  as  the  moonbeams  play, 
There  the  -white  column  greets  her  grateful  ray, 
And  bright  around,  with  quivering  beams  beset. 
Her  emblem  sparkles  o'er  the  Minaret :  40 

The  groves  of  olive  scattered  dark  and  wide. 
Where  meek  Cephisus  sheds  his  scanty  tide, 
The  cypress  saddening  by  the  sacred  mosque. 
The  gleaming  turret  of  the  gay  kiosk,^ 
And  sad  and  sombre  'mid  the  holy  calm, 
Near  Theseus'  fane,  yon  solitary  palm ; 
All,  tinged  with  varied  hues,  arrest  the  eye ; 
And  dull  were  his  that  passed  them  heedless  by.^ 

i.   The  soul  of  him  ivho . — \^Corsair^  III.  st.  i.  1.  31.] 

ii.  silver  reign. — \MS.^ 

iii.  Ho7v  sweet  and  Silent,  not  a  passing  cloud 

Hides  her  fair  face  with  intervenijig  shrotcd. — [JAS'.] 

1.  The  twilight  in  Greece  is  much  shorter  than  in  our  own 
country  ;  the  days  in  winter  are  longer,  but  in  summer  of 
less  duration. 

2.  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. 

3.  ["  The  Temple  of  Theseus  is  the  most  perfect  ancient 
edifice    in  the   world.     In   this   fabric,   the   most   enduring 


460  THE   CURSE   OF    MINERVA. 

Again  the  JEgea.n,  heard  no  more  afar, 
.  Lulls  his  chafed  breast  from  elemental  war:  50 

Again  his  waves  in  milder  tints  unfold 
Their  long  expanse  of  sapphire  and  of  gold. 
Mixed  with  the  shades  of  many  a  distant  isle 
That  frown,  where  gentler  Ocean  deigns  to  smile.'' 

As  thus,  within  the  walls  of  Pallas'  fane, 
I  marked  the  beauties  of  the  land  and  main, 
Alone,  and  friendless,  on  the  magic  shore. 
Whose  arts  and  arms  but  live  in  poets'  lore ; 
Oft  as  the  matchless  dome  I  turned  to  scan. 
Sacred  to  Gods,  but  not  secure  from  Man,  60 

The  Past  returned,  the  Present  seemed  to  cease. 
And  Glory  knew  no  clime  beyond  her  Greece ! 

Hour  rolled  along,  and  Dian's  orb  on  high 
Had  gained  the  centre  of  her  softest  sky ; 
And  yet  unwearied  still  my  footsteps  trod 
O'er  the  vain  shrine  of  many  a  vanished  God  :  '*• 
But  chiefly,  Pallas  !  thine,  when  Hecate's  glare 
Checked  by  thy  columns,  fell  more  sadly  fair 
O'er  the  chill  marble,  where  the  startling  tread 
Thrills  the  lone  heart  like  echoes  from  the  dead.    70 

i.  s^ems  to  smile. — {Corsair^  III.  st.  i.  1.  54.] 

ii.  Sad  shrine.— IMS. \ 

Stability,  and  a  simplicity  of  design  peculiarly  striking,  are 
united  with  the  highest  elegance  and  accuracy  of  workman- 
ship."—Tr^z/^/j  in  Albafiia,  etc.,  by  Lord  Broughton  (1858), 
i.  259.] 


THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA,  46 1 

Long  had  I  mused,  and  treasured  every  trace 
The  wreck  of  Greece  recorded  of  her  race, 
When,  lo  !  a  giant-form  before  me  strode, 
And  Pallas  hailed  me  in  her  own  Abode ! 

Yes,  'twas  Minerva's  self;  but,  ah  !  how  changed, 
Since  o'er  the  Dardan  field  in  arms  she  ranged ! 
Not  such  as  erst,  by  her  divine  command, 
Her  form  appeared  from  Phidias'  plastic  hand  : 
Gone  were  the  terrors  of  her  awful  brow. 
Her  idle  ^gis  bore  no  Gorgon  now ;  80 

Her  helm  was  dinted,  and  the  broken  lance 
Seemed  weak  and  shaftless  e'en  to  mortal  glance ; 
The  Olive  Branch,  which  still  she  deigned  to  clasp, 
Shrunk  from  her  touch,  and  withered  in  her  grasp  ; 
And,  ah  !  though  still  the  brightest  of  the  sky, 
Celestial  tears  bedimmed  her  large  blue  eye ; 
Round  the  rent  casque  her  owlet  circled  slow, 
And  mourned  his  mistress  with  a  shriek  of  woe  ! 

"  Mortal ! " — 'twas  thus  she  spake — ''  that  blush  uf 
shame 
Proclaims  thee  Briton,  once  a  noble  name ;  90 

First  of  the  mighty,  foremost  of  the  free,'- 
Now  honoured  less  by  all,  and  least  by  me  : 
Chief  of  thy  foes  shall  Pallas  still  be  found. 
Seek'st  thou  the  cause  of  loathing  ! — look  arouiKl. 

i.    Welcofne  to  slaves,  and  foremost, — \MS.\ 


462  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

Lo  !  here,  despite  of  war  and  wasting  fire, 

I  saw  successive  Tyrannies  expire ; 

'Scaped  from  the  ravage  of  the  Turk  and  Goth,'- 

Thy  country  sends  a  spoiler  worse  than  both. 

Survey  this  vacant,  violated  fane ; 

Recount  the  relics  torn  that  yet  remain  :  100 

These  Cecrops  placed,  this  Pericles  adorned,^ 

That  Adrian  reared  when  drooping  Science  mourned. 

What  more  I  owe  let  Gratitude  attest — 

Know,  Alaric  and  Elgin  did  the  rest. 

That  all  may  learn  from  whence  the  plunderer  came, 

The  insulted  wall  sustains  his  hated  name  :  ^ 


i.  Ah,  Athens  !  scarce  escaped  from  Ttirk  and  Gotk, 
Hell  sends  a  paltry  Scotchman  worse  than  both. — [MS.] 

1.  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. 

2.  [The  following  lines,  of  which  the  first  two  were  written 
on  the  original  MS.,  are  in  Byron's  handwriting  : — 

"  Aspice  quos  Scoto  Pallas  concedit  honores  ; 

Subter  stat  nomen,  facta  superque  vide. 
Scote  miser  !  quamvis  nocuisti  Palladis  aedi, 

Infandum  facinus  vindicat  ipsa  Venus. 
Pygmalion  statuam  pro  sponsa  arsisse  refertur  ; 

Tu  statuam  rapias,  Scote,  sed  uxor  abest." 

Compare  Horace  m  London,  by  the  authors  of  Rejected 
Addresses  (James  and  Horace  Smith),  London,  1813,  ode 
XV.,  "  The  Parthenon,"  "  Pastor  quum  traheret  per  freta 
ftavibus.^'' 

"  And  Hymen  shall  thy  nuptial  hopes  consume. 
Unless,  like  fond  Pygmalion,  thou  canst  wed 
Statues  thy  hand  could  never  give  to  bloom. 
In  wifeless  wedlock  shall  thy  life  be  led, 
No  marriage  joys  to  bless  thy  solitary  bed." 


THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA.  463 

For  Elgin's  fame  thus  grateful  Pallas  pleads, 

Below,  his  name — above,  behold  his  deeds  ! 

Be  ever  hailed  with  equal  honour  here 

The  Gothic  monarch  and  the  Pictish  peer  :  '•  no 

Arms  gave  the  first  his  right,  the  last  had  none, 

But  basely  stole  what  less  barbarians  won. 

So  when  the  Lion  quits  his  fell  repast, 

Next  prowls  the  Wolf,  the  filthy  Jackal  last :  "• 

Flesh,  limbs,  and  blood  the  former  make  their  own, 

The  last  poor  bmte  securely  gnaws  the  bone. 

Yet  still  the  Gods  are  just,  and  crimes  are  crossed : 

See  here  what  Elgin  won,  and  what  he  lost ! 

Another  name  with  his  pollutes  my  shrine : 

Behold  where  Dian's  beams  disdain  to  shine  !  120 

Some  retribution  still  might  Pallas  claim, 

When  Venus  half  avenged  Minerva's  shame."  ^ 

She  ceased  awhile,  and  thus  I  dared  reply. 
To  soothe  the  vengeance  kindling  in  her  eye : 

i.  British  peer.— [MS.] 

ii.  Sneaking  Jackal. —{MS.  ] 

Lord  Elgin's  first  marriage  with  Mary,  daughter  of  William 
Hamilton  Nisbet,  was  dissolved  by  Act  of  Parliament  in 
1808.] 

I.  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  basso- 
relievos,  destroyed  in  a  vain  attempt  to  remove  them.  [On 
the  Erechtheum  there  was  deeply  cut  in  a  plaster  wall  the 
words — 

"  Quod  non  fecerunt  Goti, 
Hoc  fecerunt  Scoti."] 


464  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

"  Daughter  of  Jove  !  in  Britain's  injured  name,*- 

A  true-born  Briton  may  the  deed  disclaim. 

Frown  not  on  England ;  England  owns  him  not : 

Athena,  no  !  thy  plunderer  was  a  Scot. 

Ask'st  thou  the  difference  ?     From  fair  Phyles'  towers 

Survey  Boeotia  ; — Caledonia's  ours.  130 

And  well  I  know  within  that  bastard  land  ^ 

Hath  Wisdom's  goddess  never  held  command  ; 

A  barren  soil,  where  Nature's  germs,  confined 

To  stern  sterility,  can  stint  the  mind ; 

Whose  thistle  well  betrays  the  niggard  earth, 

Emblem  of  all  to  whom  the  Land  gives  birth ; 

Each  genial  influence  nurtured  to  resist ; 

A  land  of  meanness,  sophistry,  and  mist."- 

Each  breeze  from  foggy  mount  and  marshy  plain 

Dilutes  with  drivel  every  drizzly  brain,  140 

Till,  burst  at  length,  each  wat'ry  head  o'erflows. 

Foul  as  their  soil,  and  frigid  as  their  snows  : 

Then  thousand  schemes  of  petulance  and  pride 

Despatch  her  scheming  children  far  and  wide ; 

Some  East,  some  West,  some — everywhere  but  North  ! 

In  quest  of  lawless  gain,  they  issue  forth. 

And  thus — accursed  be  the  day  and  year  ! 

She  sent  a  Pict  to  play  the  felon  here. 

i.  guilty  7iame. — \MS.\ 

ii.  A  land  of  liars,  inozitUebanks,  and  Mist. — \MS.'\ 

I.  "  Irish  bastards,"  according  to  Sir  Callaghan  O'Bral- 
laghan.  ["A  wild  Irish  soldier  in  the  Prussian  Army,"  in 
Macklin's  Love-d-la-Mode  (first  played  December  12,  1759).] 


THE    CURSE   OF    MINERVA.  465 

Yet  Caledonia  claims  some  native  worth, ^ 

As  dull  Boeotia  gave  a  Pindar  birth;  150 

So  may  her  few,  the  lettered  and  the  brave, 

Bound  to  no  clime  and  victors  of  the  grave, 

Shake  off  the  sordid  dust  of  such  a  land. 

And  shine  like  children  of  a  happier  strand  ; 

As  once,  of  yore,  in  some  obnoxious  place. 

Ten  names  (if  found)  had  saved  a  wretched  race." 

**  Mortal ! "  the  blue-eyed  maid  resumed,  "  once  more 
Bear  back  my  mandate  to  thy  native  shore.^ 
Though  fallen,  alas  !  this  vengeance  yet  is  mine, 
To  turn  my  counsels  far  from  lands  like  thine.         160 
Hear  then  in  silence  Pallas'  stern  behest ; 
Hear  and  believe,  for  Time  will  tell  the  rest. 

"  First  on  the  head  of  him  who  did  this  deed 
My  curse  shall  light, — on  him  and  all  his  seed : 
Without  one  spark  of  intellectual  fire, 
Be  all  the  sons  as  senseless  as  the  sire  : 
If  one  with  wit  the  parent  brood  disgrace, 
Believe  him  bastard  of  a  brighter  race  : 
Still  with  his  hireling  artists  let  him  prate, 

1.  [Lines  149-156  not  in  original  AfS.] 

2.  [Compare  Horace  in  London^  ode  xv.  : — 

"  All  who  behold  my  mutilated  pile, 

Shall  brand  its  ravages  with  classic  rage  ; 
And  soon  a  titled  bard  from  Britain's  isle 

Thy  country's  praise  and  suffrage  shall  engage, 
And  fire  with  Athens'  wrongs  an  angry  age."] 

VOL.  I.  2  H 


466  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

And  Folly's  praise  repay  for  Wisdom's  hate  ;  170 

Long  of  their  Patron's  gusto  let  them  tell, 

Whose  noblest,  7iative  gusto  is — to  sell : 

To  sell,  and  make — may  shame  record  the  day  ! — 

The  State — Receiver  of  his  pilfered  prey. 

Meantime,  the  flattering,  feeble  dotard,  West, 

Europe's  worst  dauber,  and  poor  Britain's  best, 

With  palsied  hand  shall  turn  each  model  o'er, 

And  own  himself  an  infant  of  fourscore.^ 

Be  all  the  Bruisers  culled  from  all  St.  Giles', 

That  Art  and  Nature  may  compare  their  styles ;  '•         180 

While  brawny  brutes  in  stupid  wonder  stare. 

And  marvel  at  his  Lordship's  *  stone  shop  '  there.^ 

Round  the  thronged  gate  shall  sauntering  coxcombs  creep 

To  lounge  and  lucubrate,  to  prate  and  peep } 

While  many  a  languid  maid,  with  longing  sigh, 

On  giant  statues  casts  the  curious  eye ; 

The  room  ^vith  transient  glance  appears  to  skim. 

Yet  marks  the  mighty  back  and  length  of  limb  ; 

Mourns  o'er  the  difference  of  now  and  theti ; 

Exclaims,  '  These  Greeks  indeed  were  proper  men  ! '  190 

i.    That  Art  may  measure  old  and  modern  styles. — \MS.'\ 

1.  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.  [Compare 
Letters  of  Benjamin  West  to  the  Earl  of  Elgin,  Februar}^  6, 
1809,  March  20,  181 1,  published  in  W.  R.  Hamilton's 
Me7norandu  m,  1 8 1 1 .] 

2.  Poor  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  is  a  shop. 


THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA.  467 

Draws  slight  comparisons  of  these  with  those^ 

And  envies  Lais  all  her  Attic  beaux. 

A\Tien  shall  a  modern  maid  have  swains  like  these  ? " 

Alas  !  Sir  Harry  is  no  Hercules  ! 

And  last  of  all,  amidst  the  gaping  crew, 

Some  calm  spectator,  as  he  takes  his  view, 

In  silent  indignation  mixed  with  grief, 

Admires  the  plunder,  but  abhors  the  thief. 

Oh,  loathed  in  life,  nor  pardoned  in  the  dust, 

May  Hate  pursue  his  sacrilegious  lust !  200 

Linked  with  the  fool  that  fired  the  Ephesian  dome, 

Shall  vengeance  follow  far  beyond  the  tomb,^ 

And  Eratostratus  ^  and  Elgin  shine 

In  many  a  branding  page  and  burning  line ; 

Alike  reserved  for  aye  to  stand  accursed. 

Perchance  the  second  blacker  than  the  first 

"  So  let  him  stand,  through  ages  yet  unborn. 
Fixed  statue  on  the  pedestal  of  Scorn ; 
Though  not  for  him  alone  revenge  shall  wait, 
But  fits  thy  country  for  her  coming  fate  :  210 

Hers  were  the  deeds  that  taught  her  lawless  son 
To  do  what  oft  Britannia's  self  had  done. 

i.  shy  comparisons. — [/IAS'.] 

ii.  In  sooth  the  Nymph  Uwere  no  slight  task  to  please 
Since  young  Sir  Harry  y  etc. — \_MS.\ 

1.  [Lines  202-265  ^"^^  ^o*  i^i  the  MSi\ 

2.  [Herostratusor  Eratostratus  fired  the  temple  of  Artemis 
on  the  same  night  that  Alexander  the  Great  was  born.  (See 
Plut.,  Alex..,  3,  etc.)] 


468  THE    CURSE   OF    MINERVA. 

Look  to  the  Baltic — blazing  from  afar, 

Your  old  Ally  yet  mourns  perfidious  war.^ 

Not  to  such  deeds  did  Pallas  lend  her  aid, 

Or  break  the  compact  which  herself  had  made ; 

Far  from  such  counsels,  from  the  faithless  field 

She  fled — but  left  behind  her  Gorgon  shield  ; 

A  fatal  gift  that  turned  your  friends  to  stone, 

And  left  lost  Albion  hated  and  alone.  220 

"  Look  to  the  East,^  where  Ganges'  swarthy  race 
Shall  shake  your  tyrant  empire  to  its  base ; 

1.  [The  affair  of  Copenhagen.  Copenhagen  was  bom- 
barded by  sea  by  Admiral  Lord  Gambler  (1756-1833), 
and  by  land  by  General  Lord  Cathcart  (175 5-1 843),  Sep- 
tember 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  expe- 
dition was  "  promptly  and  secretly  equipped  "  by  the  British 
Government  "with  an  activity  and  celerity,"  says  Koch 
{Hist,  of  Europe,  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  Hist.  English  People  (1875),  p.  799)-] 

2.  ["The  East"  is  brought  within  range  of  Minerva's 
curse,  symmetricB  causd,  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  presi- 
dency 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  18 10,  arising  from  the 
Pind^ri  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  lines  245-258  {vide  infra, 
p.  470,  note  i),  Byron  is  taking  toll  of  a  note  to  Epics  of  the 
Ton,  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 
History  of  the  British  Empire  in  India  (1835),  iii.  233,  note.] 


THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA.  469 

Lo  I  there  Rebellion  rears  her  ghastly  head, 
And  glares  the  Nemesis  of  native  dead  ; 
Till  Indus  rolls  a  deep  purpureal  flood, 
And  claims  his  long  arrear  of  northern  blood. 
So  may  ye  perish  ! — Pallas,  when  she  gave 
Your  free-born  rights,  forbade  ye  to  enslave. 

*'  Look  on  your  Spain  ! — she  clasps  the  hand  she  hates, 
But  boldly  clasps,  and  thrusts  you  from  her  gates.    230 
Bear  witness,  bright  Barossa  !  ^  thou  canst  tell 
Whose  were  the  sons  that  bravely  fought  and  fell. 

I.  [The  victory  of  "bright  Barossa,"  March  5,  181 1,  was 
achieved  by  the  sudden  determination — "  an  inspiration 
rather  than  a  resolution,"  says  Napier — of  the  British  com- 
mander. 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  Pena,  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 
Pena  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 
Pena  "  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." 

"  Famine "  may  have  raised  the  devil  in  the  English 
troops,  but  it  prevented  them  from  following  up  the  victoiy. 
A  further  .charge  against  the  Spaniards  was  that,  after 
Barosa  had  been  won,  the  English  were  left  for  hours  with- 
out 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. 

Two   companies  of  the   20th  Portuguese  formed  part  of 


47 O  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

But  Lusitania,  kind  and  dear  ally. 
Can  spare  a  few  to  fight,  and  sometimes  fly. 
Oh  glorious  field  !  by  Famine  fiercely  won, 
The  Gaul  retires  for  once,  and  all  is  done  ! 
But  when  did  Pallas  teach,  that  one  retreat 
Retrieved  three  long  Olympiads  of  defeat  ? 

"  Look  last  at  home — ye  love  not  to  look  there 
On  the  grim  smile  of  comfortless  despair  :  240 

Your  city  saddens  :  loud  though  Revel  howls, 
Here  Famine  faints,  and  yonder  Rapine  prowls. 
See  all  alike  of  more  or  less  bereft ; 
No  misers  tremble  when  there's  nothing  left. 
'  Blest  paper  credit ; '  ^  who  shall  dare  to  sing  ? 
It  clogs  like  lead  Corruption's  weary  wing. 

the  British  contingent,  and  took  part  in  the  engagement. 
The  year  before,  at  Busaco  (September  27,  18 10),  the  Portu- 
guese had  displayed  signal  braver)^ ;  but  at  Gebora  (Febmary 
19,  1811)  "Madden's  Portuguese,  regardless  of  his  example 
and  reproaches,  shamefully  turned  their  backs"  (Napier's 
History  of  the  Penmsular  War  (1890),  iii.  26,  98,  102-107).] 

I.       *'  Blest  paper  credit  !  last  and  best  supply. 

That  lends  Corruption  lighter  wings  to  fly." 

(Pope.) 

[In  Febmary,  181 1,  a  select  committee  of  the  House  of 
Commons  '*  on  commercial  credit "  recommended  an  advance 
of  ;^6,ooo.ooo  to  manufacturers  who  were  suffering  from 
over-speculation.  "  Did  they  not  know,"  asked  Lord  Gren- 
ville,  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  .''  "  Nevertheless,  the  measure 
passed.  The  year  before  (February  19,  1810),  a  committee 
which  had  sat  under  the  presidency  of  Francis  Horner,  to 


THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA.  47 1 

Yet  Pallas  plucked  each  Premier  by  the  ear, 
Who  Gods  and  men  alike  disdained  to  hear ; 
But  one,  repentant  o'er  a  bankrupt  state, 


inquire  into  the  cause  of  the  high  price  of  gold  bullion  (gold 
was  worth  £4  los.  an  ounce),  returned  (June  10)  a  report 
urging  the  resumption  of  cash  payment  at  the  end  of  two  years. 
It  has  been  suggested  to  the  editor  that  the  asterisks  in 
line  251  (which  are  not  filled  up  in  Lord  Stanhope's  MS.  of 
T/ie  Curse  of  Minerva)  stand  for  "  Horner,"  and  that  Byron, 
writing  at  Athens  in  March,  181 1,  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  Port- 
land and  Perceval,  Horner  is  the  Mentor,  and  Perceval 
(line  257)  the  "patrician  clod."  To  what  extent  Byron  was 
au  couraiit  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  Epics  of  the  Ton  (p.  139), 
has  something  to  say  on  budget  "  figures  " — 

"  Those  imps  which  make  the  senses  reel,  and  zounds  ! 
Mistake  a  cypher  for  a  thousand  pounds  ; " 

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 — 

"  Say,  shall  we  bend  to  titles  thus  bestowed, 
And  like  the  Eg)'ptians,  hail  the  calf  a  god  ? 
With  toads,  asps,  onions,  ornament  the  shrine, 
And  reptiles  own  and  pot-herbs  things  divine  ?  " 
It  is  evident  that  Byron,  uninspired  by  Pallas,  turned  to  the 
Epics  of  til  e  Ton  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  myster)'.] 


472  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

On  Pallas  calls, — but  calls,  alas  !  too  late  :  250 

Then  raves  for  *  *  ;  to  that  Mentor  bends, 
Though  he  and  Pallas  never  yet  were  friends. 
Him  senates  hear,  whom  never  yet  they  heard, 
Contemptuous  once,  and  now  no  less  absurd. 
So,  once  of  yore,  each  reasonable  frog, 
Swore  faith  and  fealty  to  his  sovereign  '  log.' 
Thus  hailed  your  rulers  their  patrician  clod, 
As  Egypt  chose  an  onion  ^  for  a  God. 

"  Now  fare  ye  well  !  enjoy  your  little  hour ; 
Go,  grasp  the  shadow  of  your  vanished  power  ;        260 
Gloss  o'er  the  failure  of  each  fondest  scheme ; 
Your  strength  a  name,  your  bloated  wealth  a  dream. 
Gone  is  that  Gold,  the  marvel  of  mankind. 
And  Pirates  barter  all  that's  left  behind.^ 
No  more  the  hirelings,  purchased  near  and  far, 
Crowd  to  the  ranks  of  mercenary  war. 
The  idle  merchant  on  the  useless  quay 
Droops  o'er  the  bales  no  bark  may  bear  away ; 
Or,  back  returning,  sees  rejected  stores 
Rot  piecemeal  on  his  own  encumbered  shores  :        270 
The  starved  mechanic  breaks  his  rusting  loom, 
And  desperate  mans  him  'gainst  the  coming  doom. 
Then  in  the  Senates  of  your  sinking  state 
Show  me  the  man  whose  counsels  may  have  weight. 

1.  [See  the  portrait  of  Spencer  Perceval  in  the  National 
Portrait  Gallery.] 

2.  The  Deal  and  Dover  traffickers  in  specie. 


THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA.  473 

Vain  is  each  voice  where  tones  could  once  command  ; 

E'en  factions  cease  to  charm  a  factious  land : 

Yet  jarring  sects  convulse  a  sister  Isle, 

And  light  with  maddening  hands  the  mutual  pile. 

"  'Tis  done,  'tis  past — since  Pallas  warns  in  vain  ; 
The  Furies  seize  her  abdicated  reign  :  280 

Wide  o'er  the  realm  they  wave  their  kindling  brands, 
And  wring  her  vitals  with  their  fiery  hands. 
But  one  convulsive  struggle  still  remains,'- 
And  Gaul  shall  weep  ere  Albion  wear  her  chains, 
The  bannered  pomp  of  war,  the  glittering  files,"- 
O'er  whose  gay  trappings  stern  Bellona  smiles  ; 
The  brazen  trump,  the  spirit-stirring  drum, 
That  bid  the  foe  defiance  ere  they  come ; 
The  hero  bounding  at  his  country's  call, 
The  glorious  death  that  consecrates  his  fall,  290 

Swell  the  young  heart  with  visionary  charms, 
And  bid  it  antedate  the  joys  of  arms. 
But  know,  a  lesson  you  may  yet  be  taught, 
With  death  alone  are  laurels  cheaply  bought ; 
Not  in  the  conflict  Havoc  seeks  delight. 
His  day  of  mercy  is  the  day  of  fight. 
But  when  the  field  is  fought,  the  battle  won, 
Though  drenched  with  gore,  his  woes  are  but  begun  ; 

i.  Fallen  is  each  dear  bought  frietid  oti  Foreign  Coast 
Or  leagued  to  add  you  to  the  world  you  lost. — [J/^.] 

ii.  the  glittering  Jile 

The  martial  sounds  that  animate  the  while. — [J/i".  ] 


474  THE    CURSE    OF    MINERVA. 

His  deeper  deeds  as  yet  ye  know  by  name ; 
The  slaughtered  peasant  and  the  ravished  dame,  300 
The  rifled  mansion  and  the  foe-reaped  field, 
111  suit  with  souls  at  home,  untaught  to  yield. 
Say  with  what  eye  along  the  distant  down 
Would  flying  burghers  mark  the  blazing  town  ? 
How  view  the  column  of  ascending  flames 
Shake  his  red  shadow  o'er  the  startled  Thames  ? 
Nay,  frown  not,  Albion  !  for  the  torch  was  thine 
That  lit  such  pyres  from  Tagus  to  the  Rhine  : 
Now  should  they  burst  on  thy  devoted  coast. 
Go,  ask  thy  bosom  who  deserves  them  most  ?      310 
The  law  of  Heaven  and  Earth  is  life  for  life. 
And  she  who  raised,  in  vain  regrets,  the  strife." 


INTRODUCTION   TO    THE  WALTZ. 


Byron  spent  the  autumn  of  1812  "  by  the  waters  of  Chelten- 
ham," and,  besides  writing  to  order  his  Song  of  Dniry  Lane 
(the  address  spoken  at  the  opening  of  the  theatre,  Oct.  10, 
1 8 12),  he  put  in  hand  a  Satire  on  Waltzittg.  It  was  pub- 
lished anonymously  in  the  following  spring  ;  but,  possibly, 
because  it  was  somewhat  coolly  received,  he  told  Murray 
(April  21,  18 1 3)  "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  experi- 
enced 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  unassail- 
able ;  but  the  first  impressions  of  spectators,  to  whom  it  was 
a  novelty,  were  distinctly  unfavourable. 

In  a  letter  from  Germany  (May  17,  1799)  Coleridge 
describes  a  dance  round  the  maypole  at  Riibeland.  "  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  wtrtfar  more  faithful  interpreters 
of  the  passions."  A  year  later,  H.  C.  Robinson,  writing 
from  Frankfort  in  1800  {Diary  and  Letters,  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 


476  THE    WALTZ. 

and  turning,  though  the  rolling  is  not  horizontal  but  perpen- 
dicular. 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  Tater,  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. 
"My  cousin  Hartington,"  writes  Lady  Caroline  Lamb,  in 
181 2  {Memoirs  of  Viscount  Melbo2irne,  by  W.  T.  M'Cullagh 
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 
bon  ton  assembled  there  continually.  There  was  nothing 
so  fashionable.'' 

"No  event,"  says  Thomas  Raikes  {Personal  Reminiscences ^ 
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  whirl- 
ing a  chair  round  the  room  to  learn  the  step  and  measure 
of  the  German  waltz.  The  anti-waltzing  party  took  the 
alarm,  cri"ed  it  down  ;  mothers  forbad  it,  and  every  ball- 
room became  a  scene  of  feud  and  contention.  The  foreigners 
were  not  idle  in  forming  their  e'leves;  Baron  Tripp,  Neu- 
mann, St.  Aldegonde,  etc.,  persevered  in  spite  of  all  pre- 
judices which  were  marshalled  against  them.  It  was  not, 
however,  till  Byron's  "  mahcious  publication "  had  been 
issued  and  forgotten  that  the  new  dance  received  full  re- 
cognition. "  When,"  Raikes  concludes,  "  the  Emperor 
Alexander  was  seen  waltzing  round  the  room  at  Almack's 
with  his  tight  uniform  and  numerous  decorations,"  or  [Gronow, 
Recollections,  i860,  pp.  32,  33]  "  Lord  Palmerston  might  have 
been  seen  describing  an  infinite  number  of  circles  with 
Madame  de  Li  even,"  insular  prejudices  gave  way,  and 
waltzing  became  general. 


THE    WALTZ: 

AN   APOSTROPHIC   HYMN. 
By  Horace  Hornem,  Esq. 


'*  Qualis  in  Eurote  ripis,  aut  per  juga  Cynthi, 
Exercet  Diana  chores." 

Virgil,  ^n.  i.  502. 

"  Such  on  Eurotas's  banks,  or  Cynthus's  height, 
Diana  seems  :  and  so  she  charms  the  sight, 
When  in  the  dance  the  graceful  goddess  leads 
The  quire  of  nymphs,  and  overtops  their  heads." 

Dryden's  Virgil. 


Note. — The  title-page  of  the  first  edition  (4to)  of  The 
Waltz  bears  the  imprint :  London  :  Printed  by  S.  Gosnell, 
Little  Queen  Street,  Holborn.  For  Sherwood,  Neely  and 
Jones,  Paternoster  Row.     1813.     (Price  Three  Shillings.) 

Successive  Revises  had  run  as  follows  : — 

i.  London  :  Printed  for  John  Murray,  Albemarle  Street, 
Piccadilly.     By  S.  Gosnell,  Little  Queen  Street.     1813. 

ii.  Cambridge  :  Printed  by  G.  Maitland.  For  John 
Murray,  etc. 

iii.  Cambridge  :  Printed  by  G.  Maitland.  For  Sherwood, 
Neely  and  Jones,  Paternoster  Row.     18 13. 

For  the  Bibliography  of  TJu  Waltz,  see  vol.  vii.  of  the 
present  issue. 


TO  THE  PUBLISHER. 

Sir, 

I  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.^  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,  marketable)  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 

I.  State  of  the  poll  (last  day)  5.  [General  Tarleton  (1754- 
1833)  contested  Liverpool  in  October,  18 12.  For  three  days 
the  poll  stood  at  five,  and  on  the  last  day,  eleven.  Canning 
and  Gascoigne  were  the  successful  candidates.] 


480  THE   WALTZ. 

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.  But,  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  "  affeihwso^''  ^  till  it  made  me 
quite  giddy  with  wondering  they  were  not  so.  By  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, 
"  Qicam  faniiliariier "  ^  (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  Vicar  of  Wakefield^  though  her  mother 


1.  More  expressive. — \MS?^ 

2.  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.] 


THE    WALTZ.  48 1 

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).  Indeed,  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,")  ^  I  composed 
the  following  hymn,  wherewithal  to  make  my  sentiments 
known  to  the  Public ;  whom,  nevertheless,  I  heartily 
despise,  as  well  as  the  critics. 

I  am,  Sir,  yours,  etc.,  etc. 

HORACE   HORNEM. 

I.  [ZtQ  Rejected  Addresses. 1 


VOL.  L  2  T 


THE    WALTZ, 


Muse  of  the  many-twinkling  feet !  ^  whose  charms 
Are  now  extended  up  from  legs  to  arms ; 
Terpsichore  ! — too  long  misdeemed  a  maid — 
Reproachful  term — bestowed  but  to  upbraid — 
Henceforth  in  all  the  bronze  of  brightness  shine,'"- 
The  least  a  Vestal  of  the  Virgin  Nine. 
Far  be  from  thee  and  thine  the  name  of  Prude  : 
Mocked  yet  triumphant ;  sneered  at,  unsubdued ; 
Thy  legs  must  move  to  conquer  as  they  fly, 
If  but  thy  coats  are  reasonably  high  !  lo 

Thy  breast — if  bare  enough — requires  no  shield ; 
Dance  forth — sa/is  armo7ir  thou  shalt  take  the  field 
And  own — impregnable  to  J^osf  assaults, 
Thy  not  too  lawfully  begotten  "  Waltz." 

Hail,  nimble  Nymph  !  to  whom  the  young  hussar,^ 
The  whiskered  votary  of  Waltz  and  AVar, 

i.  Henceforth  zvith  due  iinbliishhig  brightness  shine. — \MS.  M.] 

1.  "  Glance  their  many-twinkling  feet." — Gray. 

2.  [Lines   15-28  do  not  appear  in  the  MS.,  but  ten  lines 
(omitting  lines  21-24)  were  inserted  in  Proof  No.  i.] 


484  THE   WALTZ. 

His  night  devotes,  despite  of  spur  and  boots ; 
A  sight  unmatched  since  Orpheus  and  his  brutes : 
Hail,  spirit-stirring  Waltz  ! — beneath  whose  banners 
A  modern  hero  fought  for  modish  manners;  20 

On  Hounslow's  heath  to  rival  Wellesley's  ^  fame, 

I.  To  rival  Lord  Wellesley's,  or  his  nephew's,  as  the  reader 
pleases  : — the  one  gained  a  pretty  woman,  whom  he  deserved, 
iDy  fighting  for ;  and  the  other  has  been  fighting  in  the 
Peninsula  many  a  long  day,  "  by  Shrewsbury  clock,"  without 
gaining  anything  in  that  country  but  the  title  of  "  the  Great 
Lord,"  and  "  the  Lord  ; "  which  savours  of  profanation, 
having  been  hitherto  appHed  only  to  that  Being  to  whom 
"  Te  Deums  "  for  carnage  are  the  rankest  blasphemy. — It  is 
to  be  presumed  the  general  will  one  day  return  to  his  Sabine 
farm:  there 

"  To  tame  the  genius  of  the  stubborn  plain. 
Almost  as  quickly  as  he  conquer'd  Spain  ! " 

The  Lord  Peterborough  conquered  continents  in  a  summer  ; 
we  do  more — we  contrive  both  to  concjuer  and  lose  them  in 
a  shorter  season.  If  the  "  great  Lord's  "  Cincbmatian  pro- 
gress 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." 

By  the  bye — one  of  this  illustrious  person's  new  titles  is 
forgotten — it  is,  however,  worth  remembering — "  Salvador 
del  mimdo  P''  credite,  posteri  /  If  this  be  the  appellation 
annexed  by  the  inhabitants  of  the  Peninsula  to  the  name  of 
a  jnan  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  countiy.  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  Pro- 
testant. 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. 

[William  Wellesley-Pole  (1785  ?-i857),  afterwards  fourth 


THE   WALTZ.  485 

Cocked,  fired,  and  missed  his  man — but  gained  his  aim  ; 
Hail,  moving  muse  !  to  whom  the  fair  one's  breast 
Gives  all  it  can,  and  bids  us  take  the  rest. 
Oh  !  for  the  flow  of  Busby, ^  or  of  Fitz, 
The  latter's  loyalty,  the  former's  wits, 

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  Rejected  Addresses  Fitzgerald  is  made  to 
exclaim — 

"  Bless  every  man  possess'd  of  aught  to  give, 
Long  may  Long-Tilney-Wellesley- Long- Pole  live." 

The  principals  in  the  duel  to  which  Byron  alludes  were 
Wellesley-Pole  and  Lord  Kihvorth.  The  occasion  of  the 
quarrel  was  a  misconception  of  some  expression  of  Pole's  at 
an  assembly  at  Lady  Hawarden's  (August  6,  181 1).  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  Morn- 
zuo-  Post  {August  14,  181 1),  signed  "  Kihvorth,"  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 
j'eii  d^esp?' it  which,  appeared  in  the  Morning-  Chronicle  (August 
16,  181 1)  connects  the  "mortal  fracas"  with  Pole's  prowess 
in  waltzing  at  a  fete  at  Wanstead  House,  near  Hackney, 
where,  when  the  heiress  had  been  wooed  and  won,  his  guests 
used  to  dine  at  midnight  after  the  opera. 

"  Mid  the  tumult  of  waltzing  and  wild  Irish  reels, 
A  prime  dancer,  I'm  sure  to  get  at  her — 
And  by  Love's  graceful  movements  to  trip  up  her  heels, 
Is  the  Long  and  the  short  of  the  matter."] 

I.  [Thomas  Busby,  Mus.  Doc.  (175 5-1 838),  musical  com- 
poser, and  author  of  A  New  and  Co?nplete  Musical Dictio7iary^ 
1801,  etc.  He  was  also  a  versifier.  As  early  as  1785  he 
pubhshed  The  Age  of  Genius^  A  Satire;  and,  after  he  had 
ceased  to  compose  music  for  the  stage,  brought  out  a  trans- 
lation of  Lucretius,  which  had  long  been  in  MS.  His 
"rejected  address"  on  the  reopening  of  Drury  Lane  Theatre, 


486  THE    WALTZ. 

To  "  energise  the  object  I  pursue," 

And  give  both  BeUal  and  his  Dance  their  due  !  ** 

Imperial  Waltz  !  imported  from  the  Rhine 
(Famed  for  the  growth  of  pedigrees  and  wine),  30 

Long  be  thine  import  from  all  duty  free, 
And  Hock  itself  be  less  esteemed  than  thee ; 
In  some  few  qualities  alike — for  Hock 
Improves  our  cellar — thou  our  living  stock. 
The  head  to  Hock  belongs — thy  subtler  art 
Intoxicates  alone  the  heedless  heart : 
Through  the  full  veins  thy  gentler  poison  swims, 
And  wakes  to  Wantonness  the  willing  limbs. 

Oh,  Germany  !  how  much  to  thee  we  owe, 
hs>  heaven-born  Pitt  can  testify  below,  40 

Ere  cursed  Confederation  made  thee  France's, 
And  only  left  us  thy  d — d  debts  and  dances  !  ^ 
Of  subsidies  and  Hanover  bereft, 
We  bless  thee  still — for  George  the  Third  is  left ! 

i.  And  weave  a  couplet  ivorthy  them  and  you. — \Proof.\ 

would  have  been  recited  by  his  son  (October  15),  but  the 
gallei7  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  ener- 
gising objects  men  pursue,"  is  headed,  "  Parenthetical 
Address.     By  Dr.  Plagiary."] 

I.  [The  Confederation  of  the  Rhine  (1803-18 13),  by  which 
the  courts  of  Wiirtemberg  and  Bavaria,  together  with  some 
lesser  principalities,  detached  themselves  from  the  Germanic 
Body,  and  accepted  the  immediate  protection  of  France.] 


THE    WALTZ.  487 

Of  kings  the  best — and  last,  not  least  in  worth, 

For  graciously  begetting  George  the  Fourth. 

To  Germany,  and  Highnesses  serene, 

Who  owe  us  millions — don't  we  owe  the  Queen  ? 

To  Germany,  what  owe  we  not  besides  ? 

So  oft  bestowing  Brunswickers  and  brides;  50 

Who  paid  for  vulgar,  with  her  royal  blood, 

Drawn  from  the  stem  of  each  Teutonic  stud  : 

AVho  sent  us — so  be  pardoned  all  her  faults — 

A  dozen  dukes,  some  kings,  a  Queen — and  Waltz. 

But  peace  to  her — her  Emperor  and  Diet, 
Though  now  transferred  to  Buonaparte's  "  fiat !  " 
Back  to  my  theme — O  muse  of  Motion  I  say, 
How  first  to  Albion  found  thy  Waltz  her  way  ? 

Borne  on  the  breath  of  Hyperborean  gales, 
From  Hamburg's  port  (while  Hamburg  yet  had  mat/s), 
Ere  yet  unlucky  Fame — compelled  to  creep  61 

To  snowy  Gottenburg — was  chilled  to  sleep ; 
Or,  starting  from  her  slumbers,  deigned  arise, 
Heligoland  !  to  stock  thy  mart  with  lies ;  '• 
^Vhile  unburnt  Moscow  ^  yet  had  news  to  send. 
Nor  owed  her  fiery  Exit  to  a  friend, 

i.    To  make  Heligolajid  the  martfo7-  lies. — \MS.  Af.] 

I.  The  patriotic  arson  of  our  amiable   allies  cannot   be 
sufficiently  commended — nor  subscribed  for.    Amongst  other 


488  THE   WALTZ. 

She  came — Waltz  came — and  with  her  certain  sets 
Of  true  despatches,  and  as  true  Gazettes ; 

details  omitted  in  the  various  *  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  conflagra- 
tion, 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  Avholesome  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  quality  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  manu- 
facturers. 

[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  181 1  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  Heli- 
goland 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  Cath- 
cart's  despatch,  dated  November  23,  appeared  in  the  Gazette 
December  16,  1812.  The  paragraph  which  appealed  to 
Byron's  sense  of  humour  is  as  follows  :  "  The  expedition  of 
Colonel  Chernichef  {sic)  [the  Czar's  aide-de-camp]  was  a 
continued  and  extraordinary  exertion,  he  having  marched 
seven  hundred  wersts  {sic)  in  five  days,  and  swam  several 
rivers."] 


Veracious  despatches. — \_MS.  Jl/.] 


THE    WALTZ.  489 

Then  flamed  of  Austerlitz  the  blest  despatch,^ 

Which  Mo?iiteu7-  nor  Morning  Post  can  match  7  o 

And — almost  crushed  beneath  the  glorious  news — 

Ten  plays,  and  forty  tales  of  Kotzebue's ;  ^ 

One  envoy's  letters,  six  composer's  airs. 

And  loads  from  Frankfort  and  from  Leipsic  fail's ; 

Meiners'  four  volumes  upon  Womankind,^ 

Like  Lapland  witches  to  ensure  a  wind ; 

1.  [Austerlitz  was  fought  on  Dec.  2,  1805.  On  Dec.  20 
the  Morning  Chro7iicle  published  a  communication  from  a 
correspondent,  giving  the  substance  of  Napoleon's  "  Pro- 
clamation 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.] 

2.  [August  Frederick  Ferdinand  von  Kotzebue  (i 761-18 19), 
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. 

An  adaptation  of  MisantJiropy  and  Repentatice  as  The 
Stranger,  Sheridan's  Pisarro,  and  Lewis'  Castle  Spectre  are 
well-known  instances  of  his  powerful  influence  on  English 
dramatists.  "  The  Present,"  writes  Sara  Coleridge,  in  a  note 
to  one  of  her  fathers  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  '  d)'ed  rags '  of 
his  once  formed  gorgeous  banners,  and  flaunted  in  the  eyes 
of  refined  companies  from  London  to  Madrid,  from  Paris  to 
Moscow." — Coleridge's  Biographia  Literaria  (1847),  ii.  227.] 

3.  [A  translation  of  Christopher  Meiners'  History  of  the 
Female  Sex,  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.] 


490  THE   WALTZ. 

Brunck's  heaviest  tome  for  ballast,^  and,  to  back  it, 
Of  Heyne,^  such  as  should  not  sink  the  packet.'- 

Fraught  with  this  cargo — and  her  fairest  freight, 
Delightful  Waltz,  on  tiptoe  for  a  Mate,  80 

The  welcome  vessel  reached  the  genial  strand, 
And  round  her  flocked  the  daughters  of  the  land. 
Not  decent  David,  when,  before  the  ark, 
His  grand  Pas-seul  excited  some  remark ; 
Not  love-lorn  Quixote,  when  his  Sancho  thought 
The  knight's  Fajidango  friskier  than  it  ought ; 
Not  soft  Herodias,  when,  with  winning  tread, 
Her  nimble  feet  danced  off  another's  head ; 
Not  Cleopatra  on  her  Galley's  Deck, 
Displayed  so  much  of  leg  or  moi'e  of  neck,  90 

Than  Thou,  ambrosial  "\A'altz,  when  first  the  Moon 
Beheld  thee  twirling  to  a  Saxon  tune  ! 

To  You,  ye  husbands  of  ten  years  !  whose  brows 
Ache  with  the  annual  tributes  of  a  spouse  ; 
To  you  of  nine  years  less,  who  only  bear 

x.  As  much  of  Heyne  as  should  not  sink  the  packet. — \_MS.  M.'\ 

1.  [Richard  Franz  Philippe  Brunck  (1729-1803).  His 
editions  of  the  Anthologia  GrcEca,  and  of  the  Greek  dramatists 
are  among  his  best  known  works.  Compare  Sheridan's 
doggerel — 

"  Huge  leaves  of  that  great  commentator,  old  Brunck, 
Perhaps  is  the  paper  that  lined  my  poor  Trimk.^^] 

2.  [Christian  Gottlob  Heyne  (1729-18 12)  published  editions 
of  Virgil  (1767-1775),  Pi7idar  (1773),  ^i^<i  Opuscula  Aca- 
deinica,  in  six  vols.  (1785-18 12).] 


THE    WALTZ.  49 1 

The  budding  sprouts  of  those  that  you  shall  wear, 

With  added  ornaments  around  them  rolled 

Of  native  brass,  or  law-awarded  gold ; 

To  You,  ye  Matrons,  ever  on  the  watch 

To  mar  a  son's,  or  make  a  daughter's  match ;  too 

To  You,  ye  children  of — whom  chance  accords — 

Always  the  Ladies,  and  sometimes  their  Lords ; 

To  You,  ye  single  gentlemen,  who  seek 

Torments  for  life,  or  pleasures  for  a  week ; 

As  Love  or  Hymen  your  endeavours  guide. 

To  gain  your  own,  or  snatch  another's  bride ; — • 

To  one  and  all  the  lovely  Stranger  came, 

And  every  Ball-room  echoes  with  her  name. 

Endearing  Waltz  ! — to  thy  more  melting  tune 
Bow  Irish  Jig,  and  ancient  Rigadoon.^  no 

Scotch  reels,  avaunt !  and  Country-dance  forego 
Your  future  claims  to  each  fantastic  toe  ! 
Waltz — ^^Valtz  alone— both  legs  and  arms  demands, 
Liberal  of  feet,  and  lavish  of  her  hands ; 
Hands  which  may  freely  range  in  public  sight 
Where  ne'er  before — but — pray  "  put  out  the  light." 
Methinks  the  glare  of  yonder  chandelier 
Shines  much  too  far — or  I  am  much  too  near ; 
And  true,  though  strange — Waltz  whispers  this  remark, 
"  My  slippery  steps  are  safest  in  the  dark  !  "  120 

I.  [A  lively  dance  for  one  couple,  characterized  by  a  pecu- 
liar jumping  step.     It  probably  originated  in  Provence.] 


492  THE   WALTZ. 

But  here  the  Muse  with  due  decorum  halts, 
And  lends  her  longest  petticoat  to  "  Waltz." 

Observant  Travellers  of  every  time  ! 
Ye  Quartos  published  upon  every  clime  ! 
O  say,  shall  dull  Romaika's  heavy  round, 
Fandangds  wriggle,  or  Bolero's  bound; 
Can  Egypt's  Almas  ^ — tantalising  group — 
Columbia's  caperers  to  the  Avarlike  Whoop — 
Can  aught  from  cold  Kamschatka  to  Cape  Plorn 
With  Waltz  compare,  or  after  Waltz  be  born  ?  130 

Ah,  no  !  from  Meier's  pages  down  to  Gait's,^ 
Each  tourist  pens  a  paragraph  for  "  Waltz." 

Shades  of  those  Belles  whose  reign  began  of  yore, 
With  George  the  Third's — and  ended  long  before  ! — 
Though  in  your  daughters'  daughters  yet  you  thrive,*- 
Burst  from  your  lead,  and  be  yourselves  alive  ! 
Back  to  the  Ball-room  speed  your  spectred  host, 
Fool's  Paradise  is  dull  to  that  you  lost."- 

i.    Who  in  yo7ir  daughters'  daughters  yet  survive 

Like  Banqud's  spirit  be  yourselves  alive. — \^MS.  M.] 
ii.  Elysium!  s  ill  exchanged  for  that  you  lost. — \MS.  M.\ 

1.  Dancing  girls — who  do  for  hire  what  Waltz  doth  gratis. 
[The  Romaika  is  a  modern  Greek  dance,  characterized  by 
serpentining  figures  and  handkerchief-throwing  among  the 
dancers.  The  Fandango  (Spaniards  use  the  word  "  segui- 
dilla")  was  of  Moorish  origin.  The  Bolero  was  brought  from 
Provence,  circ.  1780.  "  The  Bolero  intoxicates^  the  Fandango 
inflames "  {Hist,  of  Dancing.^  by  G.  WiiUier,  Heinemann, 
1898).] 

2.  [For  Morier,  see  note  to  line  211.  Gait  has  a  para- 
graph descriptive  of  the  waltzing  Dervishes  {Voyages  afid 
Travels  (1812),  p.  190).] 


THE    WALTZ.  493 

No  treacherous  powder  bids  Conjecture  quake ; 

No  stiff-starched  stays  make  meddUng  fingers  ache  ;'•  140 

(Transferred  to  those  ambiguous  things  that  ape 

Goats  in  their  visage/  women  in  their  shape  :) 

No  damsel  faints  when  rather  closely  pressed, 

But  more  caressing  seems  when  most  caressed ; 

Superfluous  Hartshorn,  and  reviving  Salts, 

Both  banished  by  the  sovereign  cordial  "  A\'altz." 

i.  No  stijf-starched  stays  make  meddling  lovers  ache. — [MS.  ^7/.] 

I.  It  cannot  be  complained  now,  as  in  the  Lady  Baussiere'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  ;  *  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;  '"'' argaV  greatness  of  mind  and  whiskers  may 
or  may  not  go  together  ;  but  certainly  the  different  occur- 
rences, since  the  growth  of  the  last  mentioned,  go  further  in 
behalf  of  whiskers  than  the  anathema  of  Anselm  did  against 
long  hair  in  the  reign  of  Henry  I. — Formerly,  red  was  a 
favourite  colour.  See  Lodowick  Barrey's  comedy  of  Rarn 
Alley .^  1661  ;  Act  I.  Scene  i. 

"  Taffeta.  Now  for  a  wager — What  coloured  beard  comes 
next  by  the  window  ? 

"  Adriana.     A  black  man's,  I  think. 

"  Taffeta.  I  think  not  so  :  I  think  a  red^  for  that  is  most 
in  fashion." 

There  is  "  nothing  new  under  the  sun  : "  but  7'ed,  then  a 
favourite.,  has  now  subsided  into  2,  favourite's  colour.  [This 
is,  doubtless,  an  allusion  to  Lord  Yarmouth,  whose  fiery 
whiskers  gained  him  the  nickname  of  "  Red  Herrings."] 

*  The  paragraph  "  Much  may  be "  down  to  "  reign  of 
Henry  I."  was  added  in  Revise  i,  and  the  remainder  of  the 
note  in  Revise  2. 


494  THE   WALTZ. 

Seductive  Waltz  ! — though  on  thy  native  shore 
Even  Werter's  self  proclaimed  thee  half  a  whore ; 
Werter — to  decent  vice  though  much  inclined, 
Yet  warm,  not  wanton  j  dazzled,  but  not  blind —         150 
Though  gentle  Genlis,^  in  her  strife  with  Stael, 
Would  even  proscribe  thee  from  a  Paris  ball ; 
The  fashion  hails — from  Countesses  to  Queens, 
And  maids  and  valets  waltz  behind  the  scenes ; 
Wide  and  more  wide  thy  witching  circle  spreads, 
And  turns — if  nothing  else — at  least  our  heads  ; 
With  thee  even  clumsy  cits  attempt  to  bounce, 
And  cockney's  practise  what  they  can't  pronounce. 
Gods  !  how  the  glorious  theme  my  strain  exalts, 
And  Rhyme  finds  partner  Rhyme  in  praise  of  "Waltz!" 

I.  [Madame  Genlis  (Stephanie  Felicite  Ducrest,  Mar- 
quise de  Sillery),  commenting  on  the  waltz,  Avrites,  "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,"  and  by  way  of  example  instances 
M.  Jacobi,  who  affirms  that  "  Werther  {Sorrows  of  Weriher, 
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" — Selections 
from  the  Works  of  Madame  de  Ge?ilis  (1806),  p.  65. 

Compare,  too,  "Faulkland"  on  country-dances  in  The 
Rivals,  act  ii.  sc.  i,  "  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  strii)g  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  !  "] 


THE   WALTZ.  495 

Blest  was  the  time  Waltz  chose  for  her  debut !     i6i 
The  Court,  the  Regent,  like  herself  were  new ;  ^ 

I.  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  glor}',  much  about  the  same  time  :  of 
these  the  comet  only  has  disappeared  ;  the  other  three  con- 
tinue to  astonish  us  still. — Printer's  Devit. 

[As  the  Printcr''s  Devil  intimates,  the  various  novelties 
of  the  age  of  "  Waltz "  are  somewhat  loosely  enumerated. 
The  Comet,  which  signalized  iSii,  the  year  of  the  restricted 
Regency,  had  disappeared  before  the  Prince  and  his  satel- 
lites burst  into  full  blaze  in  1812.  It  Avas  (see  Historical 
Record  of  the  Life  Guards^  1835,  P-  I77)  in  1812  that  the 
Frince  Regent  commanded  the  following  alterations  to  be 
made  in  the  equipments  of  the  regiment  of  Life  Guards  : 
"  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.  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  {Annual  Register^  1812,  pp.  38,  39)  that  on 
May  24  a  special  commission  for  the  rioters  of  Cheshire  was 
opened  by  Judge  Dallas  at  Chester.  "  His  lordship  passed 
the  awful  sentence  of  death  upon  sixteen,  and  in  a  most 
impressioned  address,  held  out  not  the  smallest  hope  of 
mercy."     Of  these  live  only  were  hanged. 

Owing  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  The  Waltz  with  a 
three-shilling  bank-token  ;  see  note  to  Preface)  which  came 
into  circulation  on  July  9,  181 1.  The  "new  ninepences" 
which  were  said  to  be  forthcoming  never  passed  into  circu- 
lation at  all.  A  single  "  pattern "  coin  (on  the  obverse, 
Bank  Token,  Nincpence,  1812)  is  preserved  in  the  British 
Museum    (see    privately  printed    Catalogue,   by   W.    Boyne 


496  THE   WALTZ. 

New  face  for  friends,  for  foes  some  new  rewards ; 
New  ornaments  for  black — and  royal  Guards ;  '• 
New  laws  to  hang  the  rogues  that  roared  for  bread ; 
New  coins  (most  new)  ^  to  follow  those  that  fled ; 
New  victories — nor  can  we  prize  them  less, 
Though  Jenky  ^  wonders  at  his  own  success ; 
New  wars,  because  the  old  succeed  so  well, 
That  most  survivors  envy  those  who  fell ;  170 

New  mistresses — no,  old — and  yet  'tis  true. 
Though  they  be  old^  the  thing  is  something  new ; 
Each  new,  quite  new — (except  some  ancient  tricks),^ 


i.  New  caps  and  Jackets  for  the  royal  Guards.— {MS.  J/.] 

(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,  18 12).  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 
**  Oiir  Sultan's  "  "  she-promotions  "  of  "  those  only  plump 
and  sage,  Who've  reached  the  regulation  age,"  see  hiter- 
cepted  Letters^  or  the  Twopenny  Post-bag,  by  Thomas  Brown 
the  Younger,  1813,  and  for  "gold  sticks,"  etc.,  see  "Pro- 
motions" in  the  Annual  Register  for  March,  18 12,  in  which 
a  long  hst  of  Household  appointments  is  duly  recorded.] 

1.  Amongst  others  a  new  ninepence — a  creditable  coin 
now  forthcoming,  worth  a  pound,  in  paper,  at  the  fairest 
calculation. 

2.  [Robert  Banks  Jenkinson,  second  Earl  of  Liverpool,  was 
Secretary  at  War  and  for  the  Colonies  from  1809  to  18 12,  in 
Spencer  Perceval's  administration,  and,  on  the  assassination 
of  the  premier,  undertook  the  government.  Both  as  Secre- 
tary at  War  and  as  Prime  Minister  his  chief  efforts  were 
devoted  to  the  support  of  Wellington  in  the  Peninsula.] 

3.  "Oh  that  r/^''"/^/ should  thus  overcome  might!''''  Who 
does  not  remember  the  "delicate  investigation"  in  the 
MerJ-y  Wives  of  Windsor? — 

"  Ford.     Pray  you,  come  near  ;  if  I  suspect  without  cause. 


THE   WALTZ.  497 

New   white-sticks — gold-sticks  —  broom-sticks  —  all  new 

sticks  I 
With  vests  or  ribands — decked  alike  in  hue, 
New  Iroopers  strut,  new  turncoats  blush  in  blue : 

So  saith  the  Muse  :  my ^  what  say  you  ? 

Such  was  the  time  when  Waltz  might  best  maintain 

why  then  make  sport  at  me  ;  then  let  me  be  your  jest ;  I 
deserve  it.     How  now  ?  whither  bear  you  this  ? 

'"''Mrs.  Ford.  What  have  you  to  do  whither  they  bear 
it  ? — You  were  best  meddle  with  buck-washing."  [Act  iii.  sc.  3.] 

I.  The  gentle,  or  ferocious,  reader  may  till  up  the  blank 
as  he  pleases — there  are  several  dissyllabic  names  at  his 
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  kfiowing  oties. — [^Revise.^  [In  the 
Revise  the  hne,  which  is  not  in  the  MS.,  ran,  "  So  saith  the 

Muse  ;  my  M what  say  you  ?  "    The  name  intended  to  be 

supplied  is  "  Moira." 

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 
ministr}\  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  House- 
hold should  rest  with  ministers,  and  to  this  Moira  would  not 
consent,  possibly  because  the  Prince's  favourite,  Lord  Yar- 
mouth, was  Vice-Chambcrlain.  Negotiations  were  again 
broken  off,  and  on  June  9  Liverpool  began  his  long  term  of 
office  as  Prime  Minister.  "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  not  so  ;  it  is  so  and  so,'  "  etc. 
(Letter  to  W.  Bankes  (undated),  Life^  p.  162).  Hence  the 
question,  '*  My  Moira,  what  say  you.'"'] 

VOL.  L  2   K 


49^  THE   WALTZ. 

Her  new  preferments  in  this  novel  reign : 

Such  was  the  time,  nor  ever  yet  was  such ;  t8o 

Hoops  are  no  mors,  and  petticoats  7tof  much  ; 

Morals  and  Minuets,  Virtue  and  her  stays, 

And  tell-tale  powder — all  have  had  their  days. 

The  Ball  begins — the  honours  of  the  house 

First  duly  done  by  daughter  or  by  spouse, 

Some  Potentate — or  royal  or  serene — 

With  Kent's  gay  grace,  or  sapient  Gloster's  mien,'- 

Leads  forth  the  ready  dame,  whose  rising  flush 

Might  once  have  been  mistaken  for  a  blush. 

From  where  the  garb  just  leaves  the  bosom  free,      190 

That  spot  where  hearts  ^  were  once  supposed  to  be ; 

Round  all  the  confines  of  the  yielded  waist, 

The  strangest  hand  may  wander  undisplaced : 


i     With  K — fs  gay  grace ^  or  silly -Billy's  mien. — \MS.  M.] 
With  JC—fs  gay  gracey  or  G — r's  booby  mien. — {MS.  erased.] 

I.  "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  toad  in  the  centre,  lively,  and  with  the  reputation  of  being 
venomous. 

[In  the  MS.  the  last  sentence  stood:  "In  this  country 
there  is  one  man  with  a  heart  so  thoroughly  bad  that  it 
reminds  us  of  those  unaccountable  petrifactions  often 
mentioned  in  natural  history,"  etc.     The  couplet — 

"  Such  things  we  know  are  neither  rich  nor  rare, 
But  wonder  how  the  Devil  they  got  there," 

which  was  affixed  to  the  note,  was  subsequently  erased.] 


THE   WALTZ.  499 

The  lady's  in  return  may  grasp  as  much 

As  princely  paunches  offer  to  her  touch. 

Pleased  round  the  chalky  floor  how  well  they  trip 

One  hand  reposing  on  the  royal  hip  !  ^ 

The  other  to  the  shoulder  no  less  royal 

Ascending  with  affection  truly  loyal ! 

Thus  front  to  front  the  partners  move  or  stand,  200 

The  foot  may  rest,  but  none  withdraw  the  hand ; 

And  all  in  turn  may  follow  in  their  rank, 

The  Earl  of — Asterisk — and  Lady — Blank ; 

Sir — Such-a-one — with  those  of  fashion's  host,  '•  ^ 

For  whose  blest  surnames — vide  "  Morning  Post." 

(Or  if  for  that  impartial  print  too  late, 

Search  Doctors'  Commons  six  months  from  my  date) — 

Thus  all  and  each,  in  movement  swift  or  slow. 

The  genial  contact  gently  undergo ; 

Till  some  might  marvel,  with  the  modest  Turk,  210 

If  "  nothing  follows  all  this  palming  work  ?  "  ^ 

i.  Sir — Such  a  one — luith  Airs. — Afhs  So-so. — {Revise.'\ 

1.  [Compare  Sheridan's  lines  on  waltzing,  which  Moore 
heard  him  "  repeat  in  a  drawing-room  " — 

"  With  tranquil  step,  and  timid  downcast  glance, 
Behold  the  well-pair'd  couple  now  advance. 
In  such  sweet  posture  our  first  parents  moved, 
While,  hand  in  hand,  through  Eden's  bower  they  roved. 
Ere  yet  the  devil,  with  promise  fine  and  false, 
Turned  their  poor  heads,  and  taught  them  how  to  waltz. 
One  hand  grasps  hers,  the  other  holds  her  hip. 

For  so  the  law's  laid  down  by  Baron  Trip."] 

2.  [Lines  204-207  are  not  in  the  MS.,  but  were  added  in 
a  revise.] 

3.  In  Turkey  a  pertinent— here  an  impertinent  and  super- 


500  THE   WALTZ. 

True,  honest  Mirza  ! — you  may  trust  my  rhyme — 
Something  does  follow  at  a  fitter  time ; 
The  breast  thus  publicly  resigned  to  man, 
In  private  may  resist  him if  it  can. 

O  ye  who  loved  our  Grandmothers  of  yore, 
Fitzpatrick,^  Sheridan,  and  many  more  ! 
And  thou,  my  Prince  !  whose  sovereign  taste  and  will  '• 
It  is  to  love  the  lovely  beldames  still ! 
Thou  Ghost  of  Queensberry  l"^  whose  judging  Sprite  220 
Satan  may  spare  to  peep  a  single  night, 

i.  And  thou  my  Prince  zvhose  tmdisputed  will. — \MS.  A/.] 

fluous  question — literally  put,  as  in  the  text,  by  a  Persian  to 
Morier,  on  seeing  a  Waltz  in  Pera.  [See  A  Jour7iey 
through  Persia,  etc.  By  James  Morier,  London  (1812),  p.  365.] 

1.  [Richard  Fitzpatrick  (1747-18 13),  second  son  of  John, 
first  Earl  of  Ossor}-,  served  in  the  first  American  War  at  the 
battles  of  Brand}^vine  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  Rolliad, 
and  in  1775  published  Dorinda:  A  Toiun  Eclogue.  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  un  homme  galant  and  leader  of  ton  of 
the  past  generation.] 

2.  [William  Douglas,  third  Earl  of  March  and  fovu-th 
Duke  of  Oueensberiy  (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  surtoiit  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  lest  his  post     His 


THE    WALTZ.  50I 

Pronounce — if  ever  in  your  days  of  bliss 
Asmodeus  struck  so  bright  a  stroke  as  this ; 
To  teach  the  young  ideas  how  to  rise, 
Flush  in  the  cheek,  and  languish  in  the  eyes ; 
Rush  to  the  heart,  and  lighten  through  the  frame, 
With  half-told  wish,  and  ill-dissembled  flame, 
For  prurient  Nature  still  will  storm  the  breast — 
JV/io,  tempted  thus,  can  answer  for  the  rest  ? 

But  ye — who  never  felt  a  single  thought  230 

For  what  our  Morals  are  to  be,  or  ought ; 
Who  wisely  wish  the  charms  you  view  to  reap, 
Say — would  you  make  those  beauties  quite  so  cheap  ? 
Hot  from  the  hands  promiscuously  applied, 
Round  the  slight  waist,  or  down  the  glowing  side. 
Where  were  the  rapture  then  to  clasp  the  form 
From  this  lew^d  grasp  and  lawless  contact  warm  ?  '• 
At  once  Love's  most  endearing  thought  resign, 
To  press  the  hand  so  pressed  by  none  but  thine ; 
To  gaze  upon  that  eye  which  never  met  240 

Another's  ardent  look  without  regret ; 
Approach  the  lip  which  all,  without  restraint. 
Come  near  enough — if  not  to  touch — to  taint ; 
If  such  thou  iovest — love  her  then  no  more, 

i.  From  this  abominable  contact  warm.— \_MS.  M.\ 

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.] 


502  THE   WALTZ. 

Or  give — like  her — caresses  to  a  score ; 
Her  Mind  with  these  is  gone,  and  with  it  go 
The  httle  left  behind  it  to  bestow. 

Voluptuous  Waltz !  and  dare  I  thus  blaspheme  ? 
Thy  bard  forgot  thy  praises  were  his  theme. 
Terpsichore  forgive  ! — at  every  Ball  250 

My  wife  now  waltzes — and  my  daughters  shall ; 
My  son — (or  stop — 'tis  needless  to  inquire — 
These  little  accidents  should  ne'er  transpire ; 
Some  ages  hence  our  genealogic  tree  '• 
Will  wear  as  green  a  bough  for  him  as  me) — 
Waltzing  shall  rear,  to  make  our  name  amends 
Grandsons  for  me — in  heirs  to  all  his  friends. 

i.  Some  generations  hence  our  Pedigree 

Will  never  look  the  worse  for  him  or  me, — \MS.  erascd.\ 


END  OF  VOL.   I. 


PRINTED   BY   WILLIAM   CLOWES  AND   SONS,   LIMITED, 
LONDON    AND   RECCLES. 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


ID 


^pe^ 


^mi 


MAY  2  0,  J 

MAR  0  8  1985 


24139 


THE  LIBRARY 


»J^' 


;  1 


3  1158  00248  3088