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And intriguers and Leaguers are loud in their wail,
The scheme of Home Rule has no chance in the Lords.
THE CUTTING OF THE KNOT.
GREAT Gladstone came down his new Bill to unfold,
Like the geese of the farm-yard when summer is green,
For the King of Debate his opponents did blast,
And the sturdy Home Rulers are loud in their cheers,
F. B. D., 1886.
The two parodies following are written partly in imitation of Byron's The Dream, and partly after Darkness, which commences thus :
I HAD a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguished, and the stars
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went-and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
And they did live by watchfires-and the thrones,
MY OLD HAT.
I HAD a hat-it was not all a hat,
Some turned to gaze-others just cast an eye
A change came o'er the colour of my hat.
That which was black grew brown-and then men stared
Green spring, and flowery summer, autumn brown.
In park and city, yea at parties-balls
The hat was worn and borne. Then folks grew wild
And questions passed about-how one so trim
In coats, boots, ties, gloves, trousers, could insconce
A change came o'er the nature of my hat.
Grease spots appeared-but, still in silence, on
I wore it, and then family, and friends
A change came o'er the business of this hat.
I treasured up my heart, looked cold as death-
A change, it was the last, came o'er this hat,
For lo! at length the circling months went round :
Of Israel's fated race-and friends once more
Once more I went my way, along, along,
And plucked no wondering gaze; the hand of scorn
With its annoying finger, men, and dogs,
Once more grew pointless, jokeless, laughless, growlless
And at last, not least of rescued blessings, love!
Love smiled on me again, when I assumed
A brand new chapeau of the Melton build ;
THE GENIUS OF SMOKING.
[We have been favored with the following defence of smoking, by an intimate literary friend of Lord Byron, who assures us it is selected from several unpublished juvenile trifles, written at various times in his album by the noble bard.]
I HAD a dream-it was not all a dream;
Of the sweet moon, and you were with me there,
And everything around was free and fair;
And from our mouths upcurled the fragrant smoke,
And waft the soul out thro' a good cigar.
And built our golden castles in the air,
And sigh'd to think what transient things they were,
An elfin sprite, who held within her hand
Her hair above her brow was twisted tight off,
Puff forth your clouds "-(with that we puff'd amain)
To bless and consecrate those happy hours;
ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY
Missolonghi, Jan. 22, 1824.
'Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it has ceased to move;
Yet, though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
My days are in the yellow leaf,
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
the other day that I never draw any pleadings now. This is my birthday, and I have just finished something which I think is better than I usually write.' He then produced these noble and affecting verses;
'Tis time that I should be removed,
My gown is in the yellow leaf,
The curls from out my wig are gone,
The debts that on my bosom prey,
Have hopeless been this long, long while;
The stamp'd receipt-the quittance fair,
I never am allowed to share,
But 'tis not thus-and 'tis not here,
I should succumb to maddening thought,
This day in Court.
The wig, the bands, the stock, the gown,
Awake! (not law, that's wide awake,)
The Exchequer's roof my voice shall shake,
Talk each opposing counsel down,
Of Judges be.
If thou regret'st thy youth-why pause,
Start not-less often sought than found,
Punch's Pocket Book, 1856.
Lord Byron was married in January, 1815, and about the middle of January, 1816, Lady Byron left London for her father's house in Leicestershire, on the understanding But her that Lord Byron was shortly to follow her. father immediately wrote to acquaint Lord Byron that she would never return to him. The reasons for this conduct bave never been satisfactorily explained, and though Lord Byron, and his friends, tried their utmost to bring about a reconciliation, all attempts to alter Lady Byron's decision were in vain. This domestic misfortune supplied the enemies of Lord Byron with a pretext for the the gratification of their envious and malignant feelings towards him. The press teemed with slanderous and abominable insinuations in explanation of the conjugal feud. The majority of his acquaintances declared against him; and the proud spirit of the noble poet, stung to the
quick, impelled him to leave his country. On the 25th of April, 1816, Lord Byron left England, never to return.
A short time prior to his final departure from his native land, he published the "Siege of Corinth" and "Parisina." He also wrote two short poems, which were highly popular, and which first appeared in the public papers"Fare Thee Well," and "A Sketch from Private Life."
In "Fare thee Well," Byron pathetically alludes to his daughter, Augusta Ada, the only child of his unfortunate marriage, who was born on December 10, 1815.
FARE THEE WELL.
FARE thee well! and if for ever,
Still for ever, fare thee well;
Even though unforgiving, never
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel.
Though the world for this commend thee-
Though my many faults defaced me,
Than the one which once embraced me,
Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not:
Still thine own its life retaineth
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat;
These are words of deeper sorrow
And when thou wouldst solace gather,
Think of him whose prayer shall bless thee,
Should her lineaments resemble
Those thou never more mayst see,
All my faults perchance thou knowest,
Pride, which not a world could bow,
LADY BYRON'S REPLY TO LORD BYRON'S
"As to the author of the reply, I have for years been trying to find out, but unsuccessfully. One or two gentlemen, whose opinions on this subject are well worthy of attention, have said in a joking way that the author must be Byron himself, as the lines are so very beautiful and appropriate. I certainly do not think Lady Byron was the author. From all that I can glean from the oldest inhabitants in this neighbourhood she was always held in the highest respect, a good, kind, domestic lady; but no one seems to give her credit for much poetic taste, let alone faculty."
YES, farewell; farewell for ever;
Thou thyself hast fixed our doom;
For the wretch whose wiles enthralled thee,
Short the space which Time had given
Which thy verse so well can show?
On thy breast my head hath lain,
In whose lovely features (let me
All my weakness here confess),
His, whose image never leaves me,
Whose remembrance yet I prize;
With regret and sorrow, rather,
Whilst to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Wake me to a widowed bed;
In another's arms no sorrow
Wilt thou feel, no tears wilt shed.
For the world's applause I sought not
From his breast my image drove ;
Thou art proud-and mark me, Byron!
But, 'tis past!—I'll not upbraid thee,
Wretched though thy crimes have made me,
Another reply was published entitled
LADY BYRON'S RESPONSE TO "FARE THEE WELL."
"What reader of Pope's celebrated Eloise ever thought that poem really the work of its heroine? or who for a moment will conceive the following to be the production of Lady Byron's pen?"
AND fare Thee well, too-if, for ever
How dread the thought !-still fare thee well!
Yet think not time or space can sever
The heart that wont on thine to dwell!
O cherish not the sad illusion,
All thy high-wrought hopes deceiving,
Too well I know thy conscious breast,
That form'd, how brief! my "placid" pillow,
Far stretching o'er life's cheerless billow.
(This is dated April 29, 1816, and consists of twentythree verses in all. It is unnecessary to quote the remainder, but the poem can be found in the British Museum Library, 11642 b.b.b. 58.)
Vain are now thy magic verses,
None to pity can they move; Better far to send me curses
Than the mockery of love.
Though the world to soothe endeavour, Though it sorrow for my pain
Can it, Byron, can it ever
Make thy false heart true again?
No! a heart once dead to feeling
Oh! to banish recollection
Of that early love of mine,
When in tones of gentle kindness
That false tongue love's accents pour'd Could I think my love was blindness? Could I doubt I was adored?
Still there is a tie that binds me
To respect thy once loved name, Though each passing morrow finds thee Deeper still in guilt and shame. Yes-our little infant smiling
As she climbs upon my knee, Lisping with her voice beguiling, Teaches me to think of thee.
When, as twilight's shadows gather
Thus it is, though love has vanished
Fare thee well, and, if for ever
I will hope that those who sever
Lyrics and Lays, by Pips. Wyman Bros., Hare Street, Calcutta, 1867.
Whatever were the causes of the separation of Lady Byron from her husband (and many reasons have been assigned) will probably never be known, nor do they concern us here, except in so far as regards the statements made by Mrs. Harriet Beecher Stowe. In 1869 it pleased this American authoress to contribute an article to a London magazine, in which she deliberately accused Lord Byron of having committed the foulest crimes imaginable, and stated that although Lady Byron was aware of his depravity from their very wedding day, she yet continued to reside with him until after the birth of their daughter. A violent controversy ensued, many old scandals were revived, and whilst Mrs. Stowe's statements were generally disbelieved, Byron's reputation suffered considerably. For this result Thomas Moore was mainly to blame, he having destroyed the memoirs entrusted to him by Lord Byron. Had these memoirs been published, it is very improbable that Mrs. Stowe's article would have ever have
been written. Moore was imprudent enough to show these memoirs to several people, as well as the concluding five Cantos of Don Juan, before he destroyed them, and it is said that Lady Burghersh made copies of them. It is possible, therefore that Byron's view of the circumstances may yet be given to the world, but however that may be, nothing can excuse the action of Mrs. Stowe, whose article could serve no other purpose than that of blackening the memory of a great but ill-used and unfortunate man :
THE UN-TRUE STORY. Dedicated to Mrs. Stowe.
KNOW ye the land where the novelists blurt all
Where Beecher's considered a speaker sublime;
Are the statements they make, and the tales which they tell !
Punch and Judy (London) February 12, 1870.
Here's a bond for those who'll lend m,
Though boring duns surround me,
Each knock I know full well,
And my fainting spirits sink
So be off, and fetch the chink!
The National Omnibus, December 9, 1831.
LES ADIEUX DU PREMIER.
My cab is at the door,
Of my red-box here's the key, But before I go John Russell,
Here's some good advice for thee,
Act, that honest hearts may love thee;
Tho' Protection roar around thee,
As loud as roar it can,
Tho' they set on to confound thee,
"Young Ben," that "nice young man. -"
Tho' county members yell,
Tho' you sever Party's link,
Tho' Bedchamber Lords rebel,
Speak out boldly what you think.
Tho' for shorter term than mine,
Quite sufficient of a bore You'll find office, I opine,
And be glad when it is o'er.
WARD HUNT AFTER BYRON.
My boat has run ashore,
And my barque's beneath the sea
And I'm told I never more
Must rule the Admiraltee.
There's a sigh from those who love me,
And the man who's put above me
But though Commons rail around me,
On the repeal of the Corn-laws Sir Robert Peel resigned, and was succeeded by Lord John Russell.