But thou, with spirit frail and light, Alas! wherever Folly calls, Where parasites and princes meet (For, cherish'd first in royal halls, The welcome vices kindly greet), 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. 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. 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? 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. 1808. LINES INSCRIBED UPON A CUP FORMED START not-nor deem my spirit fled : I lived, I loved, I quaff'd, like thee; The worm hath fouler lips than thine. (1) Lord Byron gives 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 demonasteried. Observing it to be of giant size, and in a perfect state of preservation, a strange fancy seized me of having it set and mounted as a drinking-cup. I accordingly sent it to town, and it returned with a very high polish, and of a mottled colour like tortoiseshell." It is now in the possession of Colonel Wildman, the proprietor of Newstead Abbey.-E. Moore states that among the ornaments of Byron's study were a number of skulls, highly polished, and placed on light stands round the room. He also established, at Newstead Abbey, a new order. "The members," says he, "consisted of twelve, and I elected myself Grand Master, or Abbot of the Skull: a 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 reptiles' food. 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? When thou and thine, like me, are sped, Newstead Abbey, 1808. WELL! THOU ART HAPPY. (2) I thought my jealous heart would break; I kiss'd it, and repress'd my sighs 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 deem'd that time, I deem'd that pride grand heraldic title. A set of black growns, mine distinguished from the rest, was ordered, and, from time to time, when a particularly hard day was expected, a chapter was held, the crane was filled with claret, and, in imitation of the Goths of old, passed about to the Gods of the Consistory, whilst many a grim joke was cut at its expense." Captain Medwin.-E. Miscellany. A few days before they were written, the poet had (2) These lines were printed originally in Mr. Hobhouse's been invited to dine at Annesley. On the infant daughter of luntarily, and with the utmost difficulty suppressed his emotion. his fair hostess being brought into the room, he started invoTo the sensations of that moment we are indebted for these beautiful stanzas-and for several of the following pieces.-E. (3) The lady's marriage, however, proved an unhappy one.-E. Nor knew, till seated by thy side, My heart in all,-save hope, the same. 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. I saw thee gaze upon my face, Yet meet with no confusion there: One only feeling couldst thou trace; The sullen calmness of despair. 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. (1) IN CRIPTION ON THE MONUMENT OF A WHEN Some proud son of man returns to earth, Not what he was, but what he should have been: (1) Lord Byron wrote to his mother on this same 2nd November, announcing his intention of sailing for India in March, 1809.-E. (2) This monument is still a conspicuous ornament in the garden of Newstead. The following is the inscription by which the verses are preceded: Near this spot Are deposited the Remains of one Strength without Insolence, Courage without Ferocity, And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices. Who was born in Newfoundland. May, 1803; Lord Byron thus announced the death of his favourite to Mr. Hodgson:-"Boatswain is dead!—he expired in a state of madness, on the 18th, after suffering much, yet retaining all the gentleness of his nature to the last; never attempting to do the least injury to any one near him. I have now lost every thing except old Murray." By the will, which he executed in 1811, he directed that his own body should be buried in a vault in the garden, near his faithful dog.-E. "Of this favourite," says Moore, "some traits are told indicative not only of intelligence, but of a generosity of spirit which might well win for him the affections of such a master as Byron." It seems that a deadly feud having long existed between Boatswain O man! thou feeble tenant of an hour, Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat, TO A LADY, ON BEING ASKED MY REASON FOR QUITTING WHEN man, expell'd from Eden's bowers And found in busier scenes relief. And I must view thy charms no more; For, while I linger near to thee, I sigh for all I knew before, In flight I shall be surely wise, Escaping from temptation's snare; I cannot view my paradise Without the wish of dwelling there. (5) December 2, 1808. and a fox-terrier called Gilpin, belonging to Mrs. Byron, that lady prudently sent her favourite out of the way of his more powerful antagonist. One morning the servant, to whose guardianship: Boatswain was confided, was much alarmed by the disappearance of his charge, and throughout the whole of the day no tidings could be heard of him. "At last, towards evening, the stray dog arrived, accompanied by Gilpin, whom he led immediately to the kitchen fire, licking him, and lavishing upon him every possible demonstration of joy. The fact was, he had been all the way to Newstead to fetch him, and having now established his former foe under the roof once more, agreed so perfectly well with him ever after, that he even protected him against the insults of other dogs,-a task which the quarrelsomeness of the little terrier rendered no sinecure." (5) In Mr. Hobbouse's Miscellany, in which the epitaph was first published, that last line ran thus: "I knew but one unchanged-and here he lies." The reader will not fail to observe that this inscription was written at a time when the poet's early feelings with respect to the lady of Annesley had been painfully revived.-E. (4) In the first copy, "Thus, Mary!"-Mrs. Musters.) (5) In Mr. Hobhouse's volume, the line stood,-“Without a wish to enter there." The following is an extract from an unpublished letter of Lord Byron, written in 1825, only three days y previous to his leaving Italy for Greece:-"Miss Chaworth was two years older than myself. She married a man of an arcinhi and respectable family, but her marriage was not a happier übe than my own. Her conduct, however, was irreproach ble; but 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. Can I forget-canst thou forget, How quick thy fluttering heart did move? Oh! by my soul, I see thee yet, With eyes so languid, breast so fair, And lips, though silent, breathing love. When thus reclining on my breast, Those eyes threw back a glance so sweet, As half reproach'd yet raised desire, And then those pensive eyes would close, I dream'd last night our love return'd, Was sweeter in its fantasy For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam Then tell me not, remind me not, And senseless as the mouldering stone THERE WAS A TIME, I NEED NOT NAME. THERE was a time, I need not name, As still my soul hath been to thee. there was not sympathy between their characters. I had not seen her for many years, when an occasion offered. 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 None, none hath sunk so deep as thisTo think how all that love hath flown; Transient as every faithless kiss, But transient in thy breast alone. 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. Yes! my adored, yet most unkind! Though thou wilt never love again, To me 't is doubly sweet to find Remembrance of that love remain. Yet! 't is 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. AND WILT THOU WEEP WHEN I AM LOW. I would not give that bosom pain. 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 awhile my sorrows cease, To know thy heart hath felt for mine. O lady! blessed be that tear It falls for one who cannot weep: To those whose eyes no tear may steep. Let us drink!-who would not? since, through life's varied round, In the goblet alone no deception is found. I have tried, in its turn, all that life can supply; That pleasure existed while passion was there ? 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? 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? Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow, There we find-do we not ?-in the flow of the soul, And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss. And Hebe shall never be idle in heaven. STANZAS TO A LADY, (1) ON LEAVING 'Tis done-and shivering in the gale, But could I be what I have been, (1) Mrs. Musters. I should not seek another zone 'Tis long since I beheld that eye I look around, and cannot trace And I will cross the whitening foam, I ne'er shall find a resting-place; 1 go-but wheresoe'er I flee, Of what we are, and what we've been, 'T would soothe to take one lingering view, For him that wanders o'er the deep; Come to task all, Prying from the custom-house; Cases cracking; Not a corner for a mouse 'Scapes unsearch'd amid the racket, Ere we sail on board the Packet. Now our boatmen quit their mooring, And all hands must ply the oar; Baggage from the quay is lowering, We're impatient-push from shore. "Have a care! that case holds liquorStop the boat-I'm sick-oh Lord!" "Sick, ma'am, damme, you'll be sicker Ere you've been an hour on board." Thus are screaming Men and women, Gemmen, ladies, servants, Jacks; All are wrangling, Stuck together close as wax.Such the general noise and racket, Ere we reach the Lisbon Packet. Now we've reach'd her, lo! the captain, Gallant Kidd, (2) commands the crew; Passengers their berths are clapt in, Some to grumble, some to spew. (1) Thus corrected by himself, in his mother's copy of Mr. Hobhouse's Miscellany; the two last lines being originally"Though wheresoe'er my bark may run, I love but thee, I love but one."-E. (2) The following marvellous story was related by Captain Kidd to his Lordship on the passage. He stated that "being asleep one night in his berth, he was awakened by the pressure of something heavy on his limbs, and there being a faint light in the room, could see, as he thought, distinctly, the figure of his brother, who was at that time in the naval service in the East Indies, dressed in his uniform and stretched across the bed. Concluding it to be an illusion of the senses, he shut his eyes and made an effort to sleep. But still the same pressure continued, and still, as often as he ventured to take another look, he saw On Braganza Help!"-"A couplet ?"-" No, a cup "What's the matter?" "Zounds! my liver's coming up; 'I shall not survive the racket Of this brutal Lisbon Packet." Now at length we 're off for Turkey, May unship us in a crack. As philosophers allow, Great and small things, Who the devil cares for more? Some good wine! and who would lack it, Even on board the Lisbon Packet! (4) Falmouth Roads, June 30, 1809. the figure lying across in the same position. To add to the wonder, on putting his hand forth to touch this form, he found the uniform, in which it appeared to be dressed, dripping wet. On the entrance of one of his brother officers, to whom he called out in alarm, the apparition vanished; but in a few months after he received the startling intelligence that, on that night, his brother had been drowned in the Indian seas. Of the supernatural character of this appearance, Captain Kidd himself did not appear to have the slightest doubt."-E. (3) Lord Byron's three servants -E. (4) In the letter in which these lively verses were inclosed, Lord Byron says:-"I leave England without regret-I shali return to it without pleasure. I am like Adam, the first convict sentenced to transportation; but I have no Eve, and have eaten |