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 phantasy 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! If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse,

Or the Nine be disposed 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 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 delight to the first kiss of love. 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?

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.

lation. It was Antonio, his slave, a native of Java, who had accompanied Camoëns to Europe, after having rescued him from the waves, when shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This faithful attendant was wont to seek alms throughout Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of the day with his poor and brokenhearted master. But his friendship was employed in vain. Camoëns sank beneath the pressure of penury and disease, and died in an alms-house, early in the year 1579.—Strangford.

(1) The circumstances which lent so peculiar an interest to Lord Byron's introduction to the family of Chaworth are sufficiently explained in his Life, by Moore. "The young lady herself combined," says the writer," with the many worldly advantages that encircled her, much personal beauty, and a disposition the most amiable and attaching. Though already fully alive to her charms, it was at this period (1804) that the young poet seems to have drunk deepest of that fascination whose effects were to be so lasting; six short weeks which he passed in her company being sufficient to lay the foundation of a feeling for all life. With the

summer holidays ended this dream of his youth. He saw Miss Chaworth once more in the succeeding year, and took his last farewell of her on that hill near Annesley, which, in his poem of The Dream, he describes so happily as crowned with a peculiar diadem.'" In August, 1805, she was married to John Musters, Esq.; and died at Wiverton Hall, in February, 1832, in consequence, it is believed, of the alarm and danger to which she had been exposed during the sack of Colwick Hall by a party of rioters from Nottingham. The unfortunate lady had been in

DORSET! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,
Exploring every path of Ida's glade;
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 me to command; (3)
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.
Yet, Dorset! let not this seduce thy soul
To shun fair science, or evade control;

first time, after a slight revision.

ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT
PUBLIC SCHOOL. (1)

WHERE are those honours, Ida! once your own,
When Probus (2) fill'd your magisterial throne?
As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace,
Hail'd a barbarian in her Cæsar's place,
So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate,

And seat Pomposus (3) where your Probus sate.
Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul,
Pomposus holds you in his harsh control;
Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd,
With florid jargon, and with vain parade;
With noisy nonsense, and new-fangled rules,
Such as were ne'er before enforced in schools.
Mistaking pedantry for learning's laws,
He governs, sanction'd but by self-applause.
With him the same dire fate attending Rome,
Il-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.

GRANTA. A MEDLEY.

July, 1805.

σ 'Αργυρέαις λόγχαισι μαχου καὶ πάντα κρατήσαις;”

OH! Could Le Sage's (4) demon's gift
Be realized at my desire,
This night my trembling form he'd lift
To place it on St. Mary's spire.
Then would, unroofd, old Granta's halls
Pedantic inmates full display;
Fellows who dream on lawn or stalls,
The price of venal votes to pay.
Then would I view each rival wight,

Petty and Palmerston survey;

by the death of the Duke of Dorset. We were at school to gether, and there I was passionately attached to him. Since, we have never met, but once, I think, since 1805 and it would be 1 paltry affectation to pretend that I had any feeling for him worth the name. But there was a time in my life when this event would have broken my heart; and all I can say for it now is, that it is not worth breaking. The recollection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not, set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands."— Byron's Letters, 1818. The verses referred to were those melancholy ones, beginning, "There's not a joy the world can give, like that it takes away."-E. (1) In March, 1805, Dr. Drury retired from his situation of head-master at Harrow, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler.

(2) "Dr. Drury, whom I plagued sufficiently, was the best, the kindest (and yet strict too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father.” — Diary.

(3) "At Warrow I was a most unpopular boy, but led latterly, and have retained many of my school friendships, and all my dislikes except to Dr. Butler, whom I treate drebelliously, and have heen sorry ever since."- Diary.

The reconciliation which took place between him and Dr. Butler, before his departure for Greece, in 1809, is one of those instances of placability and pliableness with which

Who canvass there with all their might,
Against the next elective day. (5)

Lo! candidates and voters lie (6)

All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number : A race renown'd for piety,

Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber.

Lord H- (7) indeed, may not demur;

Fellows are sage reflecting men: They know preferment can occur

But very seldom,—now and then.
They know the Chancellor has got

Some pretty livings in disposal:
Each hopes that one may be his lot,
And therefore smiles on his proposal.
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.
There, in apartments small and damp,
The candidate for college prizes
Sits poring by the midnight lamp;
Goes late to bed, yet early rises.

He surely well deserves to gain them,
With all the honours of his college,
Who, striving hardly to obtain them,
Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge:
Who sacrifices hours of rest

To scan precisely metres Attic;
Or agitates his anxious breast

In solving problems mathematic: Who reads false quantities in Seale, (8) Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle; Deprived of many a wholesome meal;

In barbarous Latin (9) doom'd to wrangle :

his life abounded. Not content with this private atonement to the Doctor, it was his intention, had he published another edition of the Hours of Idleness, to substitute, for the offensive verses against that gentleman, a frank avowal of the wrong he had been guilty of in giving vent to them."— Moore.

(4) The Diable Boiteux of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection.

(5) On the death of Mr. Pitt, in January, 1806, Lord Henry Petty and Lord Palmerston were candidates to represent the University of Cambridge in Parliament. — E.

(6) The fourth and fifth stanzas ran, in the private volume, thus:

"One on his power and place depends,
The other on the Lord knows what!
Each to some eloquence pretends,
Though neither will convince by that.
"The first, indeed, may not demur;

Fellows are sage reflecting men," etc.- E.

(7) Edward-Harvey Hawke, third Lord Hawke.-E. (8) Seale's publication on Greek Metres displays considerable talent and ingenuity, but, as might be expected in so difficult a work, is not remarkable for accuracy.

(9) The Latin of the schools is of the canine species, and not very intelligible.

Renouncing every pleasing page From authors of historic use; Preferring, to the letter'd sage,

The square of the hypothenuse. (1)

Still, harmless are these occupations,
That hurt none but the hapless student,
Compared with other recreations,
Which bring together the imprudent;

Whose daring revels shock the sight,
When vice and infamy combine,
When drunkenness and dice invite,
As every sense is steep'd in wine.
Not so the methodistic crew,
Who plans of reformation lay :
In humble attitude they sue,

And for the sins of others pray :
Forgetting that their pride of spirit,

Their exultation in their trial,
Detracts most largely from the merit
Of all their boasted self-denial.
'T is morn :—from these I turn my sight.
What scene is this which meets the eye?
A numerous crowd, array'd in white, (2)
Across the green in numbers fly.

Loud rings in air the chapel bell;

"T is hush'd :- what sounds are these I hear? The organ's soft celestial swell

Rolls deeply on the list'ning ear.
To this is join'd the sacred song,

The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain;
Though he who hears the music long
Will never wish to hear again.
Our choir would scarcely be excused,
Even as a band of raw beginners;
All mercy now must be refused

To such a set of croaking sinners.

If David, when his toils were ended,
Had heard these blockheads sing before him,

4) The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a rightangled triangle.

(2) On a saint's-day, the students wear surplices in chapel. (3) The Harrow free Grammar-school was founded by John Lyon, a rich yeoman of Preston, in the parish of Harrow. He obtained, in the 14th year of Elizabeth, an especial license for perpetuating his benevolence by this foundation for gratuitous | instruction. — Finden's Illustrations.

(4)" 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.

"While Lord Byron and Mr. Peel were at Harrow together, atyrant a few years older claimed a right to fag little Peel, which claim (whether rightly or wrongly I know not) Peel resisted. His resistance, however, was in vain :**** not only

To us his psalms had ne'er descended,—
In furious mood he would have tore 'em.
The luckless Israelites, when taken

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

On Babylonian river's border.
Oh! had they sung in notes like these,
Inspired by stratagem or fear,
They might have set their hearts at ease,
The devil a soul had stay'd to hear.
But if I scribble longer now,

The deuce a soul will stay to read :
My pen is blunt, my ink is low;
'T is almost time to stop, indeed.
Therefore, farewell, old Granta's spires!
No more, like Cleofas, I fly;
No more thy theme my muse inspires :
The reader 's tired and so am I.

YE scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection Embitters the present, compared with the past; Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection,

And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last; (4)

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 denied! Again I revisit the hills where we sported,

The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought; (5)

The school where, loud warn'd by the bell, we resorted,

To pore o'er the precepts by pedagogues taught.

subdued him, but determined to punish the refractory slave; and proceeded to put this determination in practice by inflicting a kind of bastinado on the inner fleshy side of the boy's arm, which, during the operation, wast wirled round with some the stripes were suceeding each other, and poor Peel writhing degree of technical skill, to render the pain more acute. While under them, Byron saw and felt for the misery of his friend, and although he knew that he was not strong enough to fight***** with any hope of success, and that it was dangerous even to approach him, he advanced to the scene of action, and with a blush of rage, tears in his eyes, and a voice trembling between terror and indignation, asked, very humbly, if***** would be pleased to tell him how many stripes he meant to inflict? Why,' returned the executioner, 'you little rascal, what is that to you?' Because, if you please,' said Byron, holding out his arm, I would take half.'"- Moore.

་

(5) "At Harrow I fought my way very fairly. I think I lost but one battle out of seven."-Diary, 1821.

Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd,

As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone (1) I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wan-To der'd,

To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded,

Wh: re, as Zanga (2), I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded,

I fancied that Mossop (3) himself was outshone:
Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep imprecation,

By my daughters of kingdom and reason deprived;
Till, fired by loud plaudits (4) and self-adulation,
I regarded myself as a Garrick revived.

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.
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.

(5)

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.
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.
When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth,
So much perfection in thee shone,
She fear'd that, too divine for earth,

The skies might claim thee for their own: Therefore, to guard her dearest work,

Lest angels might dispute the prize,
She bade a secret lightning lurk
Within those once-celestial eyes.
These might the boldest sylph appal,
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.
For did those eyes as planets roll,

Thy sister-lights would scarce appear:
E'en suns, which systems now control,
Would twinkle dimly through their sphere.(6)

1806.