Page images
PDF
EPUB

But thou, with spirit frail and light,
Wilt shine a while, and pass away;
As glow-worms sparkle through the night,
But dare not stand the test of day.

Alas! wherever Folly calls,

[ocr errors]

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?
What friend for thee, howe'er inclined,
Will deign to own a kindred care?
Who will debase his manly mind,
For friendship every fool may share?

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
FROM A SKULL. (1)

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.

(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?
Quaff 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.
Why no-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.

WELL! THOU ART HAPPY. (2)
WELL! thou art happy,(3) and I feel
That I should thus be happy too;
For still my heart regards thy weal
Warmly, as it was wont to do.
Thy husband's blest-and 't will impart
Some pangs to view his happier lot:
But let them pass-Oh! how my heart
Would hate him, if he loved thee not!
When late I saw thy favourite child,

I thought my jealous heart would break;
But when the unconscious infant smiled,
I kiss'd it for its mother's sake.

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.

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
Had quench'd at length my boyish flame;

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
NEWFOUNDLAND DOG.(2)

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 rests below;
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,

Not what he was, but what he should have been:
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.

(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
Who possessed Beauty without Vanity,

Strength without Insolence,

Courage without Ferocity,

And all the Virtues of Man without his Vices.
This Praise, which would be unmeaning Flattery
If inscribed over hunan ashes,
Is but a just tribute to the Memory of
BOATSWAIN, a Dog.

Who was born in Newfoundland. May, 1803;
And died at Newstead Abbey, Nov. 13, 1808.

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,
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. (3)

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.
But, wandering on through distant climes,
He learn❜d to bear his load of grief;
Just gave a sigh to other times,

And found in busier scenes relief.
Thus, lady!(4) 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, 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,
When playing with thy golden hair,

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 still we near and nearer press'd,
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.

I dream'd last night our love return'd,
And, sooth to say, that very dream

Was sweeter in its fantasy
Than if for other hearts I burn'd,

For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam
In rapture's wild reality.

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.

THERE WAS A TIME, I NEED NOT NAME.

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.
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,

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.
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 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:
Such precious drops are doubly dear

To those whose eyes no tear may steep.
Sweet lady! once my heart was warm
With every feeling soft as thine;
But 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,(1)

[blocks in formation]

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;
I have bask'd in the beam of a dark-rolling eye;
I have loved! who has not ?-but what heart can
declare

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,
Should a rival bow down to our idol below, [alloy;
We are jealous!-who's not ?-thou hast no such
For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy
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.
When the box of Pandora was open'd on earth,
And Misery's triumph commenced over Mirth,
Hope was left,-was she not ?-but the goblet we
kiss,

And care not for Hope, who are certain of bliss.
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.

STANZAS TO A LADY, (1) ON LEAVING
ENGLAND.

'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 freshening blast;
And I must from this land be gone,
Because I cannot love but one.

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-

(1) Mrs. Musters.

I should not seek another zone
Because I cannot love but one.

'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.
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 even in crowds am still alone,
Because I cannot love but one.

And I will cross the whitening foam,
And I will seek a foreign home;
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.
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.

1 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.
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.
And who that dear loved 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.
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.

'T would 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;

[blocks in formation]

Come to task all,

Prying from the custom-house;
Trunks unpacking,

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;
Here entangling,

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

[blocks in formation]

On Braganza

Help!"-"A couplet ?"-" No, a cup
Of warm water"—

"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,
Lord knows when we shall come back!
Breezes foul and tempest murky

May unship us in a crack.
But, since life at most a jest is,

As philosophers allow,
Still to laugh by far the best is,
Then laugh on--as I do now.
Laugh at all things,

Great and small things,
Sick or well, at sea or shore;
While we're quaffing,
Let's have laughing-

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

« PreviousContinue »