Precepts of prudence curb, but can't control,
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!
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 “ taiut:"
Seduction's dread is here no slight restraint.
The maid whose virgin breast is void of guile,
Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile,
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 esfusions 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.

Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,

Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.
No mail-clad serfs (3), obedient to their lord,

In grim array the crimson cross (4) demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board

Their chief's retainers, an immortal band :
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.
But not from thee, dark pile ! departs the chief;

His feudal realın in other regions lay:
In thee the wounded conscience courts relief,

Retiring from the garish blaze of day.
Yes! in thy gloomy cells and shades profound

The monk abjured a world he ne'er could view;
Or blood-stain'd guilt repenting solace found,

Or innocence from stern oppression flew.
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.
Where 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.
Where now the bats their wavering wings extend,

Soon as the gloaming (5) spreads her waning shade,
The choir did oft their mingling vespers blend,

Or matin orisons to Mary (6) paid.
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.
One holy Henry rear'd the gothic walls,

And bade the pious inmates rest in peace;
Another HENRY (7) the kind gift recalls,

And bids devotion's hallow'd echoes cease.
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.

ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY. (1) " It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds."-Ossian. Newstead! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome!

Religion's shrine! repentant HENKY'S (2) pride! Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloister'd tomb,

Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide: Hail to thy pile! more honour'd in thy fall

Than modern mansions in their pillar'd state;

"I must return you," says Lord Byron, in a letter written impression. On the very same evening, this prompt sacrifice in February, 1808, “my best acknowledgments for the in was carried into effect. Mr. Becher saw every copy of the terest you have taken in me and my poetical bantlings, edition barned, with the exception of that which he retained and I shall ever be proud to show how much I esteem the | in his own possession, and another which had been de advice and the adviser."-L. E.

spatched to Edinburgh, and could not be recalled.-P. E. To Mr. Becher, as we learn from Moore's Life, was

As one poem on this subject is already printed, the presented the first copy of Lord Byron's early poetical effu- author had, originally, no intention of inserting the followsions, printed for private circulation amongst his friends. ing. It is now added, at the particular request of some The Reverend gentleman, in looking over its pages, among friends. many things to commend and admire, as well as some almost (2) Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of too boyish to criticise, found one poem in which, as it ap. Thomas à Becket. (See ante, p. 3. c. I. note 2.-P. E.) peared to him, the imagination of the yonng bard had in. (3) This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, "The dulged itself in a luxuriousness of colouring beyond what Wild Huntsman," as synonymous with vassal. even youth could excuse. Immediately, as the most gentle 1 (4) The red cross was the badge of the crusaders. mode of conveying his opinion, he sat down and addressed

As “gloaming,” the Scottish word for twilight, is far to Lord Byron some expostulatory verses on the subject, to more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent which the poetical "answer" now before the reader was as literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters to promptly returned by the noble poet, with, at the same Burns, I bave ventured to use it on account of its harmony. time, a note in plain prose, to say that be felt fully the jns (6) The priory was dedicated to the Virgin. tice of ais friend's censure, and that, rather than allow the (7) At the dissolution of the monasteries, llenry VIII. poem in question to he circulated, he would instantly recall bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron. (See ante, all the copies that had been sent out, and cancel the whole p. 3. c. I. note 2.-P. E)

Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain,

Here Desolation holds her dreary court: Shakes with the martial music's novel din!

What satellites declare her dismal reign! The beralds of a warrior's haughty reign,

Shrieking their dirge, ill-omened birds resort,
High-crested banners wave thy walls within. To fit their vigils in the hoary fane.
or changing sentinels the distant hum,

Soon a new morn's restoring beams dispel
The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnish'd arms, The clouds of anarchy from Britain's skies;
The braying trumpet and the hoarser drum,

The fierce usurper seeks his native hell,
Unite in concert with increased alarms.

And Nature triumphs as the tyrant dies. An abbey once, a regal fortress (1) now,

With storms she welcomes his expiring groans; Encircled by insalting rebel powers,

Whirlwinds, responsive, greet bis labouring breath; War's dread machines o'erhang thy threatening brow, Earth shudders as her caves receive his bones,

And dart destruction in sulphureous showers. 1 Loathing (4) the offering of so dark a death.
Ah rain defence! the hostile traitor's siege,

The legal ruler(5) now resumes the helm,
Though oft repulsed, by guile o'ercomes the brave; He guides through gentle seas the prow of state;
His thronging foes oppress the faithful liege,

Hope cheers, with wonted smiles, the peaceful realm, ! Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave. And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied hate. Not wavenged the raging baron yields;

The gloomy tenants, Newstead! of thy cells,
The blood of traitors smears the purple plain; Howling, resign their violated nest;
Unconquer'd still, his falchion there be wields, Again the master on his tenure dwells,
And days of glory yet for him remain.

Eujoy'd, from absence, with enraptured zest.
Suil in ihat hour the warrior wished to strew Vassals, within thy hospitable pale,
Sell-gather'd laurels on a self-sought grave;

Loudly carousing, bless their lord's return; Bat Charles' protecting genius hither flew,

Culture again adorns the gladdening vale, The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save. And matrons, once lameuting, cease to mourn. Trembling, she snatched him (2) from the unequal A thousand songs on tunelul echo float, i In other fields the torrent to repel; [strife, Unwonted foliage mantles o'er the trees; Fer nobler combats, bere, reserved his life,

And hark! the horns proclaim a mellow note, ! To lead the band where godlike Falkland (3) fell. The hunters' cry hangs lengthening on the breeze. From thee, poor pile! to lawless plander given, Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake:

While dying groans their painful requiem sound, What fears, what anxious hopes, attend the chase! Far different incense now ascends to heaven,

The dying stag seeks refuge in the Lake; (6) : Sach victims wallow on the gory ground.

Exulting shouts announce the finishid race. There many a pale and ruthless robber's corse, | Ab happy days! too happy to endure ! Noisome and ghast, defiles thy sacred sod;

Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew : Ofer mingling man, and horse commix'd with horse, No splendid vices glitter'd to allure; 1 Corruption's heap, the savage spoilers trod. | Their joys were many, as their cares were few.

Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread, From these descending, sons lo sires succeed; ! Rassack'd, resign perforce their mortal mould: | Time steals along, and Death uprears his dart; From ruffian fangs escape not e'en the dead,

Another chief impels the foaming steed, Raked from repose in search for buried gold.

Another crowd pursue the panting hart.
Hash'd is the harp, unstrong the warlike lyre, Newstead! what saddening change of scene is thine!

The minstrel's palsied hand reclines in death ; Thy yawning arch betokens slow decay;
No more he strikes the quivering chords with fire, The last and youngest of a noble line
Or sings the glories of the martial wreath.

Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway. At length the sated murderers, gorged with pray, Deserted now, he scans thy grey worn towers; Retire; the clamour of the fight is o'er ;

Thy vaults, where dead of feudal ages sleep; Süence again resumes her awful sway,

Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers; And sable Horror guards the massy door.

These, these he views, and views them but to weep. Yet are his tears no emblem of regret:

(1) Xewstead snstained a considerable siege in the war divine interposition; but whether as approbation or con between Charles I. and his parliament.

demnation, we leave to the casuists of that age to decide. Lord Byron, and his brother Sir William, held high

I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the subject Commands in the royal army. The former was general in

of my poem. chief in Ireland, lieutenant of the Tower, and governor to

(5) Charles II. Jasues, Dake of York, afterwards the anhappy James II.;

(6) During the lifetime of the fifth Lord Byron, there was the latter bad a principal share in many actions.

found in this Lake-where it is supposed to have been 3) Lacius Carey, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most

thrown for conceaiment by the Monks- a large brass eagle,

in the body of which, on its being sent to be cleaned, was beremplished man of his age, was killed at the battle of

discovered a secret aperture, concealing within it a number Suwbary, charging in the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment

of ancient documents connected with the rights and privi.

leges of the foundation. At the sale of the old Lord's effects, This is an historical fact. A violent tempest occurred in 1776. this eagle was parchased by a watchmaker of incmediately subsequent to the death or interment of Crom Nottingham; and it now forms, through the liberality of *41, which occasioned many dispntes between his partisans | Sir Richard Kaye, an appropriate ornament of the fine old sad the Cavaliers: both interpreted the circumstance into | church of Sonth well.-L. E.

of cavalry.

Still rules my senses with unbounded sway, Cherish'd affection only bids them flow.

The past confounding with the present day. Pride, hope, and love, forbid him to forget, But warm his bosom with impassion'd glow. Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought,

Which still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought; Yet he prefers thee to the gilded domes

My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields, Or gewgaw grottos of the vainly great;

And roams romantic o'er ber airy fields; Yet lingers 'mid thy damp and mossy tombs,

Scenes of my youth, developed, crowd to view, Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of late.(1)

To which I long bave bade a last adieu ! Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine,

Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes; Thee to irradiate with meridian ray;(2)

Friends lost to me for aye, except in dreams; Hours splendid as the past may still be thine,

Some who in marble prematurely sleep,
And bless thy future as thy former day.(3)

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.
"I cannot but remember such things were,

These with a thousand visions now unite,
And were most dear to me.”

To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight.(5)
WREN slow Disease, with all her host of pains, Ina! blest spot, where Science holds her reign,
Chills the warm tide which flows along the veins; How joyous once I join’d thy youthful train !
When Health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing, Bright in idea gleams thy losty spire,
And flies with every changing gale of spring; Again I mingle with thy playful quire;
Not to the aching frame alone confined,

Our tricks of mischief, every childish game, Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind:

Unchanged by time or distance, seem the same; What grisly forms, the spectre-train of woe, Through winding paths along the glade, I trace Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow, The social smile of every welcome face; With Resignation wage relentless strife,

My wonted haunts, my scenes of joy and woe, While hope retires appalld, and clings to life! Each early boyish friend, or youthful foe, Yet less the pang when, through the tedious hour, Our feuds dissolved, but not my friendship past:Remembrance sheds around her genial power, I bless the former, and forgive the last. Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given, Hours of my youth! when, nurtured in my breast, When love was bliss, and beauty form d our heaven; To love a stranger, friendship made me blest;Or, dear to youth, portrays each childish scene, Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth, Those fairy bowers, where all in turn have been. When every artless bosom throbs with truth; As when through clouds that pour the summer storm Untaught by worldly wisdom how to feign, The orb of day unveils his distant form,

And check each impulse with prudeutial rein; Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain, When all we feel, our honest souls discloseAnd dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain;

In love to friends, in open hate to foes; Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams, No varnish'd tales the lips of youth repeat, The sun of memory, glowing through my dreams, No dear-bought knowledge purchased by deceit. Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze, | Hypocrisy, the gift of lengtheu'd years, To scenes far distant points his paler rays;

Matured by age, the garb of prudence wears.

(1) " Come what may," wrote Byron to his mother, in March 1809, “ Newstead and I stand or fall together. I have now lived on the spot; I have fixed my heart upon it; and no pressure, present or future, shall induce me to barter the last vestige of our inheritance. I have that pride within me which will enable me to support difficulties. I can endure privations; but could I obtain, in exchange for New. stead Abbey, the first fortune in the country, I would reject the proposition. Set your mind at ease on that score; I feel like a man of honour, and I will not sell Newstead."-LE.

(2) “We cannot,” said the Critical Review for September, 1807, “but hail with something of prophetic rapture, the hope conveyed in the closing stanza

"Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine, etc "-L. E. (3) The reader who turns from this Elegy to the stanzas descriptive of Newstead Abbey and the surrounding scenery, in the thirteenth canto of Don Juan, cannot fail to remark how frequently the leading thoughts in the two pieces are the same; or to be delighted and instructed, in comparing the juvenile sketch with the bold touches and mellow colouring of the master's picture.-L. E.

(4) These verses were composed while Lord Byron was suffering under severe illness and depression of spirits. “I was laid," he says, “ on my back, when that schoolboy thing was written, or rather dictated-expecting to rise no more, my physician having taken his sixteenth fee.” In the prirate volume the poem opened with the following lines:

Hence thou unvarying song of varied loves,
Which youth commends, maturer age reproves :

Which every rhyming bard repeats by rote,
By thousands echo'd to the sell-same note:
Tired of the dull, unceasing, copious strain,
My soul is panting to be free again.
Farewell! 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 rapture on your nectar'd kiss.
Those beauties, grateful to my ardent sight,
No more entra ce my senses in delight;
Those bosoms, form's of animated snow,
Alike are lasteless and unfeeling now.
These to some happier lover I resign-
The memory of those joys alone is mine.
Censure no more shall brand my humble name,
The child of passion and the fool of fame.
Weary of love, of life, devour'd with spleen,
I rest a perfect Timon, not nineteen.
World! I renounce thee! all my hope's o'ercast:
One sigh I give thee, but that sigh's the last.
Friends, foes, and females, now alike adieu !
Would I could add remembrance of you too!
Yet though the future dark and cheerless glearns,
The curse of memory, hovering in my dreams,
Depicts with glowing pencil all those years,
Ere yet my cup, empoison'd, 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 ihought;
It still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought:
My soul to Fancy's," etc, etc., as at line 29.-L.E.
The next fifty-six lines to-

- Here first remember'd be the joyous band,"
were added in the first edition of Hours of Idieness. -LE.

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,
Smootbly to speak, and cautiously to think;
Sull to assent, and never to deny-
A patron's praise can well reward the lie:
Aod who, when Fortune's warping voice is heard,
Would lose his opening prospects for a word;
Although against that word bis heart rebel,
And truth indignant all his bosom swell ?

PROBUS (4), the pride of science, and the boast,
To Ida now, alas! for ever lost.
With him, for years, we search'd the classic page,
And fear'd the master, though we loved the sage ;
Retired at last, his small yez peaceful seat
From learning's labour is the blest retreat.
Pomposus fills his magisterial chair;
Pomposus governs,--but, my muse! forbear :(5)
Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot;
His name and precepts be alike forgot;
No more his mention shall my verse degrade, -
To him my tribute is already paid.

: Away with themes like this! not mine the task

From flattering fiends to tear the hateful mask; | Let keener bards delight in satire's sting;

My fancy soars not on Detraction's wing :
Once, and but once, she aim'd a deadly blow,
To hurl defiance on a secret foe;
Bat when that foe, from feeling or from shame,
The cause unknown, yet still to me the same,
Waru'd by some friendly hint percbance, retired,
With this sabenission all her rage expired:
From dreaded pangs that seeble foe to save,

She bush'd her young resentment, and forgave,
· Or, if my muse a pedant's portrait drew,
Ponposts"(1) virtues are but known to few :
I never sear'd the young usurper's nod,
And he wbo wields must sometimes feel the rod.
If since on Granta's failivgs, known to all
Who share the converse of a college ball,

She sometimes trified 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.

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 a while resigns her youthful train, Who move in joy, and dance along the plain; 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, 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 placed in view, With frolic quaint their antic jests expose, Aud tease the grumbling rustic as he goes; Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray Tradition treasures for a future day : “ 'T was here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought, And here we earu'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; The allotted hour of daily sport is o'er, And Learning beckons from her temple's door.

Here first remember'd be the joyous band, Wbo haild me chief,(2) obedient to command; Wbo join'd with me in every boyish sportTheir first adviser, and their last resurt; Nor shrunk beneath the upstart pedant's frown, Or all the sable glories of his gown;(3) Who, tbas transplanted from his father's school Unfit to govern, ignorant of rule

Succeeded him whom all unile to praise, | The dear preceptor of my early days;

(1) Dr. Butler, bead-master of Harrow school. Had Lord Byron published another edition of these poems, it appears, from a loose sbeet in his handwriting, to have been his in. teation, instead of the passage beginning

Or if my mose a pedant's portrait drew,"
I to insert

If once my muse a barsher portrait drew,
Warm with her wrongs, and deem'd the likeness true,
By cooler judginent taught, her fault she owns,

With poble minds a fault confess'd atones."-LE.
2) Whea Dr. Drury retired, in 1805, three candidates
presented themselves for the vacant chair, Messrs. Drury,
Esans, and Butler. “On the first movement to which this
contest gave rise in the school, young Wildman,” says
Moore, was at the bead of the party for Mark Drury, while
Byron held himself aloof from any. Anxious, however, to
have him as an ally, one of the Drury faction said to Wild.
mas_ Byron, I know, will not join, because he does not
coose to act second to any one, but, by giving up the leader.
ship to hire, you may at once secure him.'” This Wildman
accordingly did, and Byron took the command.-L. E.

3. lastead of this couplet, the private volume has the following foar lines :

- Careless to soothe the pedant's furions frown,
Scarcely respecting his majestic gown:
by which, in vain, be gain'd a borrow'd grace,

Adding new terror to his sneering face."--L.E.
3) Dr. Drury This most able and excellent man retired
from his sitaation in March, 1803, after having resided thirty.

five years at Harrow; the last twenty as head-master ; an office he held with equal honour to himself and advantage to the very extensive school over which he presided. Panegyric would here be superfluous: it would be useless to enumerate qualifications which were never doubted. A CODsiderable contest took place between three rival candidates for his vacant chair : of this I can only say,

Si mea cum vestris valuissent vota, Pelasgi!

Non foret ambiguus tanti certaminis bæres. [Such was Byron's parting eulogy on Dr. Drury. It may be interesting to see by the side of it the Doctor's own account of his papil, when first committed to his care: "I took," says the Doctor, “my young disciple into my study, and endeavoured to bring him forward by inquiries as to his former amusements, employments, and associates, but with little or no effect; and I soon found that a wild moun. tain colt had been submitted to my management. But there was mind in his eye. His manner and temper soon convinced me, that he might be led by a silker string to a point, rather than by a cable ;--and on that principle I acted.")-L. E.

(5) To this passage, had Lord Byron published another edition of Hours of Idleness, it was his intention to give the following turn :

"Another fills his magisterial chair ;

Reluctant Ida owns a stranger's care;
Oh! may like honours crown his future name :
If such Lis virtues, such shall be his fame."-L.E.

No splendid tablets grace her simple hall,

Our first kind greetings, and our last adieuBut ruder records fill the dusky wall;

Drew tears from eyes unused to weep with you. There, deeply carved, behold ! each tyro's name Through splendid circles, fashion's gaady world, Secures its owner's academic fame;

Where folly's glaring standard waves unfurld, Here mingling view the cames of sire and son I plunged to drown in noise my fond regret, The one long graved, the other just begun :

And all I sought or hoped was to forget. These shall survive alike when son and sire

Vain wish! if chance some well-remember'd face, Beneath one common stroke of fate expire:(1) Some old companion of my early race, Perhaps their last memorial these alone,

Advanced to claim his friend with honest joy, Denied in death a monumental stone,

My eyes, my heart, proclaim'd me still a boy; Whilst to the gale in mournful cadence wave

The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around, The sighing weeds that hide their nameless grave. Were quite forgotten when my friend was found: And here my name, and many an early friend's, The smiles of beauty-(for, alas! I've known Along the wall in lengthen'd line extends.

What 'i is to hend before Love's mighty throne) Though still our deeds amuse the youthful race, The smiles of beauty, though those smiles were dear, Who tread our steps, and fill our former place, Could hardly charm me, when that friend was near : Who young obey'd their lords in silent awe,

My thoughts bewilder'd in the fond surprise,
Whose nod commanded, and whose voice was law; The woods of Ida danced before my eyes:
And now, in turn, possess the reins of power, I saw the sprightly wanderers pour along,
To rule, the little tyrants of an hour;

I saw and join'd again the joyous throng;
Though sometimes, with the tales of ancient day, Panting, again I traced her lofty grove,
They pass the dreary winter's eve away :-

And friendship's feelings triumph'd over love. (3). " And thus our former rulers stemm'd the tide, And thus they dealt the combat side by side;

Yet, why should I alone with such delight
Just in this place the mouldering walls they scaled, Retrace the circuit of my former flight?
Nor bolts nor bars against their strength avail'd; (2) Is there no cause beyond the common claim
Here PROBUS came, the rising fray to quell,

Endear'd to all in childhood's very name?
And here he falter'd forth his last farewell;

Ah! sure some stronger impulse vibrates bere, And here one night abroad they dared to roam, Which whispers friendship will be doubly dear While bold POMPOSUS bravely staid at home!”

To one who thus for kindred hearts must roam, While thus they speak, the hour must soon arrive, And seek abroad the love denied at home. When names of these, like ours, alone survive: Those hearts, dear IDA, have I found in thee Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelm A home, a world, a paradise to me. The faint remembrance of our fairy realm.

Stern Death forbade my orphan youth to share

The tender guidance of a father's (4) care. Dear honest race! though now we meet no more, Can rauk, or e'en a guardian's name, supply One last long look on what we were before

The love which glistens in a father's eye?

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.-L.E.

(2) Lord Byron elsewhere thus describes his usnal course of life while at Harrow:-"Always cricketing, rebelling, rou. ing, and in all manner of mischiefs." One day, in a fit or defiance, he tore down all the gratings from the window of the ball; and when called upon by Dr. Butler to say why he had committed this violence, answered, with stern coolness, “because they darkened the room."-L. E.

(3) This description of what the yonng poet felt in 1806, on encountering in the world any of his former schoolfellows, falls far short of the page in which he records an accidental meeting with Lord Clare, on the road between Imola and Bologna, in 1821. “This meeting," he says, “annihilated for a moment all the years between the present time and the days of Harrow. It was a new and inexplicable feeling. like rising from the grave, to me. Clare, too, was much agitated-more in appearance than was myself; for I could feel his heart beat to his fingers' ends, unless, indeed, it was the pulse of my own wbich made me think so. We were but five minutes together, and on the public road; but I hardly recollect an hour of my existence which could be weighed against them."-We may also quote the following interesting sentences of Madame Guiccioli :-"In 1822 (says she), a few days before leaving Pisa, we were one evening sented in the garden of the Palazzo Lanfranchi. At this mo. ment a servant announced Mr. Hobhouse. The slight shade of melancholy diffused over Lord Byron's face gave instant place to the liveliest joy; but it was so great, that it almost deprived him of strength. A fearful paleness came over his cheeks, and his eyes were filled with tears as he embraced his friend: his emotion was so great that he was forced to ait down.”LE.

(4) To all the lives of Lord Byron hitherto published, the

character of the poet's father has been alluded to in terms
of oamitigated reprobation, for which the ascertained facts
of his history afford but a slender pretext. He had, like
his son, the misfortune of being brought up by a mother
alone,- Admiral Byron, his father, being kept at a distance
from his family by professional daties. His education was
completed at a foreign military academy, not, in those
days at least, a very favourable school, and from this, on
receiving a commission in the Coldstream Guards, he was
plunged, while yet a boy, into all the temptations to which
a person of singular beanty, and manners of the most cap.
tivating grace, can expose the heir of a noble name in our
luxurious metropolis. The unfortunate intrigue, which has
been gravely talked of as marking his cbaracter with some-
thing like horror, occurred when he was hardly of age. At
all events, as Captain Byron, who died in his thirty-fifth
year, could bave had no influence in determining the course
of his son's education or pursuits, it is difficult to understand
on what grounds his personal qualities have been made the
theme of discussion, to say nothing of angry vituperation,
either in Memoirs of Lord B. or Reviews of those Memoirs.

Some unworthy reflections on the subject were hazarded in a biographical sketch of the noble Poet, prefixed to & French translation of one of his works, which appeared very shortly before he left Genoa for Greece; and the remarks which these drew from the son at the time will probably go far to soften the general impression respecting the father, As the letter which Lord Byron addressed to the gentleman who had forwarded the offensive tract from Paris has not hitherto been printed, and was probably the last he wrote before quitting Italy, we make no apology for the length of the following extract:

" Genoa, 10th July, 1823. “ As to the Essay, etc., I have nothing to object to it, with regard to what concerns myself personally, though naturally there are some of the facts in it discoloured, and

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