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Vain froward child of empire! say,

One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love, Are all thy playthings snatch'd away? Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove; Where may the wearied eye repose

And the heartless may wonder at all I resignWhen gazing on the great; (1)

Thy lip shall reply, not to them, but to mine.

May, 1814 Where neither guilty glory glows, Nor despicable state ?

ADDRESS INTENDED TO BE RECITED AT THE Yes! one;—the first --The last—the best

The Cincinnatus of the West,
Whom envy dared not hate,

Who hath not glow'd above the page where fame Bequeath'd the name of Washington,

Hath fix'd high Caledon's unconquer'd name; To make man blush there was but one! (2)

The mountain-land which spurn’d the Roman
Anil baffled back the fiery-crested Dane, [chain,

Whose bright claymore and hardihood of hand

No foe could tame-no lyrant could command? I SPEAK not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, That race is gone-but still their children breathe, There is griefin the sound, there is guilt in the famc: And glory crowns them with redoubled wreath: But the tear which now burns on my check may | O'er Gael and Saxon mingling banners shine, impart

{heart. And, England! add their stubborn strength to thine. The deep thoughts that dwell in Inat silence of | The blood which flow'd with Wallace flows as free, Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace

But now'tis only shed for fame and thee!

Oh! pass not by the northern veteran's claim, Were those liours-can their joy or their bitterness cease?


But give support--the world hath given him fame!

The humbler ranks, the lowly brave, who bled We repent-we abjure-we will break from ow We will part,-we will fly to-unile it again!

While cheerly following where the mighty led

Who sleep beneath the undistinguish'd sod Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt! Where happier comrades in their triumph trod, Forgive me, adored one!- forsake, if thou wilt,

To us bequeath-'tis all their fate allows But the heart which is thine shall expire unde- The sireless offspring and the lonely spouse : based,

She on high Albyn's dusky hills may raise
And man shall not break it—whatever thou mayst. The tearful eye in melancoly gaze,
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee, Or view, while shadowy auguries disclose
This soul, in its bitterestblackness, shall be; [sweet, The Highland seer's anticipated woes,
And our days seem as swift, and our moments more The bleeding phantom of each martial form
With thee by my side, than with worlds at our feet. Dim in the cloud, or darkling in the storm;



(1) In one of Lord Byron's MS. Diaries, begun at Ravenna in the contrast, I think that one hall of our dislike arises from bis May, 1821, we find the following:-"What shall I write!-an. having been neired by Tiberius-and one half of Julius Cæsar's other Journal? I think not. Any thing that comes uppermost, fame, from his having had his empire consolidated by Augustus, and call it

-Suppose that there had been no Octavius, and Tiberius had My Dictionary.

• jumped the life' belween, and al once succeeded Julius! - And Augustus. I have often been puzzled with his character. yet il is difficult to say whether hereditary right or popular Was lie a great man? Assuredly. Bul not one of my grcal men. choice produce the worser sovereigns. The Roman Consuls I have always looked upon Sylla as the greatest character in make a goodly show; but then they only reigned for a year, and history, for laying down his power at the moment when it were under a sort of personal obligation lo distinguish them

selves. Il is still more difficult to say which form of govern• Too great to keep or to resign.'

ment is the worst-all are so bad. As for democracy, it is the and thus despising them all. As to the retention of his power worst of the whole; for what is, in fact, democracy?—an arisby Augustus, the thing was already settled. If he had given it locracy of blackguards.”—E. up-the commonwealth was gone-the republic was long past (2) On being reminded by a friend of his recent promise poi all resuscitation. Had Brutus and Cassius gained the battle of to write any more for years—"There was,” replied Lord By: Philippi, it would not have restored the republic. Ils days ron, “a mental reservation in my pact with the public, in be ended with the Gracchi; the rest was a mere struggle of par- hall of anonymes; and, even had there not, the provocation lies. You might as well cure a consumplion, or restore a was such as to make it physically impossible to pass over this broken egg, as revive a slale so long a prey to every uppermost epoch of triumphant lameness. 'T is a sad business; and, after soldier, as Rome bad long been. As for a despotism, if Augustus all, I shall think higher of rhyme and reason, and very humbly could have been sure that all his successors would have been like of your heroic people, lill--Elba becomes a volcano, and senes himself–1 mean nol as Octavius, but Augustus-or Napoleon him out again. I can't think it is all over yet."-E could have insured the world that none of his successors would (5) "Thou hast asked me for a song, and I enclose you an have been like himself—the ancient or modern world might have experiment, which has cost me something more than trouble, gone on, like the empire of China, in a state of lethargic pros- and is, therefore, less likely to be worth your taking any in your perily. Suppose, for instance, that, instead of Tiberius and proposed setting. Now, if it be so, throw it into the fire without Caligula, Augustus had been immediately succeeded by Nerva, phrase.Lord B. 1o Mr. Moore, Day 10, 1811.-E. Trajan, the Antonines, or even by Titus and his father what a The reader will observe that the above stanzas were written dillerence in our estimate of himsell:-So far from goining by more than two years prevjously to his marriage.-E.

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While sad, she chants the solitary song,

Who, lovely as ever, seem'il just as delighted The sof: lament for him who carries long

With majesty's presence as those she invited. For him, whose distant relics vainly crave The coronach's wild requiem to the brave !

June, 1814. 'Tis Heaven-not man-must charm away the woe Which bursts when Nature's feelings newly How;

Yet tenderness and time may rob the tear
Of half its bitterness for one so dear;

TO SARAH, COUNTESS OF JERSEY, ON THE PRINCE A nation's gratitude perchance may spread

REGENT'S RETURNING HER PICTURE TO MRS. A thornless pillow for the widow'd head;

MEE. (2)
May lighten well her heart's maternal care,
And wean from penury the soldier's heir.

When the vain triumph of the imperial lord
May, 1814.

Whom servile Rome obey'd, and yet abhorr’d,
Gave to the vulgar gaze each glorious bust,

That left a likeness of the brave or just;

What most admired each scrulinising eye

Of all that deck'd that passing pageantry ? "What say 1.9"-not a syllable further in prose; What spread from face to face that wondering air? I'm your man of all measures,” dear Tom,-so, | The thought of Brutus-for his was not there! here goes!

That absence proved his worth,—that absence fix'd Here goes, for a swim on the stream of old Time, llis memory on the longing mind, unmix’d; On those buoyant supporters, the bladders of And more decreed his glory to endure, rhyme.

[the flood, Than all a gold colossus could secure. If our weight breaks them down, and we sink in If thus, fair Jersey ! our desiring gaze We are smother'd, at least, in respectable mud, Search for thy form, in vain and mute amaze, Where the divers of Bathos lie drown’d in a heap, Amidst those pictured charms, whose loveliness, And Southey's last pæan has pillow'd his sleep; Bright though they be, thine own had render'd less; That “Felo de se" who, half drunk with his malm- If he, that vain old man, whom truth admits sey,

Heir of his father's crown, and of his wits, Walk'd out of his depth and was lost in a calmn sea, If his corrupted eye, and wither'd heart, Singing “Glory to God” in a spick-and-span stanza, Could with thy gentle image bear to part; The like (since Tom Sternhold was choked) never That tasteless shame be his, and ours the grief,

To gaze on Beauty's band without its chief:

Yet comfort still one selfish thought imparts, The papers have told you, no doubt, of the fus- we lose the portrait, but preserve our hearts. ses, (1)

What can his vaulted gallery now disclose? The fêles, and the gapings to get at these Russes, - A garden with all flowers—except the rose! Of his Majesty's suite, up from coachman to hel- A fount that only wants its living stream; man,

A night, with every star, save Dian's beam. And what dignity decks the flat face of the great lost to our eyes the present forms shall be,

That turn from tracing them to dream of thee; I saw him, last week, at two balls and a party,– And more on that recall'd resemblance pause, For a prince, his demeanour was rather too hearty. Than all he shall not force on our applause. You know, we are used to quite di ferent graces,

Long may thy yet meridian lustre shine,

With all that Virtue asks of homage thine : The Czar's look, lown, was much brighter and bris- The symmetry of youth-the grace of mienBut then he is sadly deficient in whisker; [ker, The eye that gladdens—and the brow serene; And wore but a starless blue coat, and in kersey- The glossy darkness of that clustering hair, [fair! -mere breeches whisk'd round, in a waltz with the Wbich shades, yet shows that forehead more than Jersey,

Each glance that wins us, and the life that throws

man saw.


(1) “The newspapers will lell you all that is to be told of of miniature portraits of the ladies of his Court, the most ceemperors, etc. They have dined and supped, and shown their lebrated for their beauty. The Countess of Jersey's was necesDai faces in all thoroughfares and several saloons. Their uni- sarily among them, but some pique against that lady subsequently forms are very becoming, but rather short in the skirts; and led to its being sent away from Carlton House. The affair at their conversation is a calechisin, sor which, and the answers, the lime made much noise in the fashionable world, and formed I refer you to those who have heard it.” Lord B. tr. Mr. Moore, the subject of the condolatory address in question, from Lord June 14.

Byron's pen.” Finden's Illustrations.-E. (*) George the Fourth, when Regent, formed a collection " The newspapers have got hold (I know not how) of the Con

A spell which will not let our looks repose,
But turn to gaze again, and find anew
Some charm that well rewards another view.
These are not lessen'd, these are still as bright,
Albeit loo dazzling for a dotard's sight;
And these must wait till every charm is gone,
To please the paltry heart that pleases none;-
That dull cold sensualist, whose sickly eye
In envious dimness pass’d thy portrait by;
Who rack'd bis little spirit to combine
lis hale of Freedom's loveliness, and thine.

Aug. 1814.

A lomb is theirs on every page,

An epitaph on every tongue: The present hours, the fulure age,

For them bewail, to them belong. For them the voice of festal mirth

Grows hush’d, their name the only sound; While deep Remembrance pours to Worth

The goblet's tributary round.
A theme to crowds that knew them not,

Lamented by admiring foes,
Who would not share their glorious loi?

Who would not die the death they chose ? And, gallant Parker! thus enshrined

Thy life, thy fall, thy fame shall be;
And early valour, glowing, find

A model in thy memory.
But there are breasts that bleed with thee

In woe, that glory cannot quell;
And shuddering hear of victory,

Where one so dear, so dauntless, fell. Where shall they turn to mourn thee less ?

When cease to hear thy cherish'd name? Time cannot teach forgetfulness,

While Grief's full heart is fed by Fame.

TO BELSHAZZAR. BELSHAZZAR! from the banyuel lurn,

Nor in thy sensual fulness fall; Behold! while yet before thee burn

The graven words, the glowing wall. Many a d’spol men miscall

Crown'd and anointed from on high; Bul thou, the weakest, worst of all –

Is it not written, thou must die ? Go! dash the roses from thy brow

Grey hairs but poorly wreathe with them; Youth's garlands misbecome thee now,

More than thy very diadem,
Where thou hast larnish'd every gem:-

Then throw the worthless bauble by, Which, worn by thee, even slaves contemn;

And learn, like better men, lo die! Oh! early in the balance weigh’d,

And ever light of word and worth,
Whose soul expired ere youth decay’d,

And left thee but mass of earth.
To see thee moves the scorner's mirth:

But tcars in Hope's averted eye
Lament that even thou hadst birth-

Unfit to govern, live, or die.

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There be none of Beauty's daughters

With a magic like thee; And like music on the waters

Is thy sweel voice to me: When, as if its sound were causing The charmed ocean's pausing, The waves lie still and gleaming, And the lull’d winds seem dreaming. And the midnight moon is weaving

Her bright chain o'er the deep;
Whose breast is gently heaving,

As an infant's asleep:
So the spirit bows before thee,
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer's ocean.

There is a lear for all that die,

A mourner o'er the humblest grave; But nations swell the funeral cry,

And triumph weeps above the brave. For them is Sorrow's purest sigh

O'er Ocean's heaving bosom sent: In vain their bones unburied lie,

All earth becomes their monument!

dolalory Address to Lady Jersey on the picture-abduction by our (1) This gallant officer fell in August, 1814, in his twentyRegent, and have published them-with my name, 100, smack- ninth year, whilst commanding, on shore, a parly belonging to without even asking leave, or inquiring whether or no! 1)-n his ship, the Menelaus, and animating them, in storming the their impudence, and d-n every thing. It has put me out of American camp near Baltimore. He was Lord Byron's firstpalience, and so-1 shall say no more about il " B. Leliers. cousin; but they had never met since boyhood.-E.

takes away,


Oh could I feel as I have felt,-or be what I have

been, “O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros

Or weep as I could once have wept, o’er many a
Ducentium ortus ex animo: quater

vanish'd scene;
Felix! in imo qui scatentem
Pectore le, pia nympha, sensil."

As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brack-
Gray's Poemala.

ish though they be,

So, midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears THERE's not a joy the world can give like that it

would flow to me.(2)

March, 1815. When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay;

ON NAPOLEON'S ESCAPE FROM ELBA. "Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, Once fairly set out on his party of pleasure, [sure

which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth it-Taking towns at his liking, and crowns at his lei

From Elba to Lyons and Paris he goes, self be past.

[foes. (3)

Making balls for the ladies, and bows to his Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck

March 27, 1813. of happiness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt, or ocean of ex

ODE FROM THE FRENCH. cess : The magnet of their course is gone, or only points

We do not curse thee, Waterloo ! in vain

Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew; The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never

There 'twas shed, but is not sunkstretch again.

Rising from each gory trunk,

Like the water-spout from ocean, Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death it.

With a strong and growing motionself comes down;

It soars, and mingles in the air, It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream With that of lost Labedoyèreits own;

With that of him whose honour'd grave That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our Contains the “bravest of the brave.” tears,

A crimson cloud it spreads and glows, And though the eye may sparkle still, 'tis where But shall return to whence it rose ; the ice appears.

When 'tis full’t will burst asunder| Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth Never yet was heard such thunder distract the breast,

As then shall shake the world with wonderThrough midnight hours that yield no more their Never yet was seen such lighining former hope of rest;

As o'er heaven shall then be bright’ning! | 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret Like the Wormwood Star, foretold wreath,

By the sainted Seer of old,
All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and Showering down a fiery flood,

Turning rivers into blood. (4)

grey beneath.

sad song

(1) These verses were given by Lord Byron to Mr. Power, abbé, who wrote a treatise on the Swedish constitution, and of the Strand, who has published them, with very beautiful music proved it indissoluble and eternal! Just as he had corrected by Sir John Stevenson. “I feel merry enough to send you a the last sheet, news came that Gustavus the Third had.destroyed

An event, the death of poor Dorsel, and the recol- this immortal government. "Sir,' quoth the abbe, 'the King lection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could of Sweden may overthrow the conslitution, but not my book!!' not-set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought I think of the abbé, but not with him. Making every allowance which you have in your hands. I wrote them with a view lo your for talent and most consummate daring, there is, after all, a selling them, and as a present to Power, if he would accept the good deal in luck or destiny. He might have been stopped by words, and you did not think yourself degraded, for once in a our frigales, or wrecked in the Gulf of Lyons, which is partiway, by marrying them to music. I don't care what Power cularly tempestuous-or-a thousand things. But he is certainly says to secure the property of the song, so that it is not compli- Fortune's favourile.” B. Lelters, March, 1818. mentary to me, nor any thing about condescending’ornoble (4) See Rev. chap. viii. o. 7, etc. "The first angel sounded, author'- both 'vile phrases,'as Polonius says."-B. Letters. and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood,” elc. 0. 8.

(2) “Do you remember the lines I sent you early last year? 1 “And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain don't wish (like Mr. Fitzgerald) to claim the character of vales,' burning with fire was cast into the sea, and the third part of the in all its translations,—but were they nou a little prophetic? sea became blood,” elc. v. 10. “And the third angel sounded, I mean those beginning, “There 's not a joy the world can and there sell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a give,' etc., on which I pique myself as being the truest, though lamp; and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the the most melancholy, I ever wrole.” B. Letters, March, 1816. fountains of waters," v. 11. "And the name of the star is called

(3) “I can sorgive the rogue for utterly falsifying every line Wormwood : and the third part of the waters became wormof mine Ode—which I take to be the last and ultermost streich wood; and many men died of the waters, because they were of human magnanimity. Do you remember the story of a certain made bitter.”

The Chief has fallen, but not by you,
Vanquishers of Waterloo !
When the soldier citizen
Sway'd not o'er his fellow-men-
Save in leeds that led them on
Where Glory smiled on Freedom's son
Who, of all the despots bandeel,

With thal youthful chief compeled ?

Who could boast o'er France defeated, Till lone Tyranny commanded ? Till, goaded by ambition's sling, The Hero sunk into the King ? Then he fell :-o perish all, Who would men by man enthral! And thoui, too, of the snow-white plume! (1) Whose realm refused thee even a tomba; (2) Belter hadst thou still been leading France o'er hosts of hirelings bleeding, Than sold thyself to death and shame For a meanly royal name; Such as he of Naples wears, Who thy blood-l'ought title bears. Little didst thou deem, when dashing

On thy war-horse through the ranks

Like a stream which burst its banks, While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing, Shone and shiver'd fast around theeOf the fate at last which found thee: Was that haughty plume laid low By a slave's dishonest blow ? Once-as the moon sways o'er the tide, Il roll'd in air, the warrior's guide; Through the smoke-created night of the black and sulphurous fight, The soldier raised his seeking eye To catch that crest's ascendency;And, as il onward rolling rose, So moved his heart upon our foes. There, where death’s brief pang was quickest, And the ballle's wreck lay thickest, Strew'd beneath the advancing banner

Of the eagle's burning crest(There with thunder-clouds to fan her,

Who could then her wing arrest

Victory beaming from her breast?) While the broken line enlarging

Fell, or fled along the plain; There be sure was Murat charging!

There he ne'er shall charge again!

O'er glories invaders march, Weeps Triumph o'er each levellid archBut let Freedom rejoice, With her heart in her voice; But, her hand on her sword, Doubly shall she be adored; France hath twice too well been taught The “moral lesson" dearly boughtHer safety sits not on a throne, With Capet or Napoleon! But in equal rights and laws, Hearts and hands in one great causeFreedom, such as God hath given Unto all beneath his heaven, With their breath, and from their birth, · Though Guilt would sweep it from the earth; With a fierce and lavish hand Scattering nations' wealth like sand; Pouring nation's blood like water, In imperial seas of slaughter! But the heart and the mind, And the voice of mankind, Shall arise in communionAnd who shall resist that proud union ? The time is past when swords subduedMan may die-the soul's renew'd : Even in this low world of care Freedom ne'er shall want an heir; Millions breathe but to inherit Her for-ever-bounding spiritWhen once more her hosts assemble, Tyrants shall believe and tremble Smile they at this idle threat? Crimson tears will follow yet (3)

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(1) “Poor dear Murat, what an end! Jis while plume used to in 1820, tell me if I have not as good a right to the character of be a rallying-point in battle, like Henry the Fourth's. He refused Vales, in both senses of the word, as Fitzgerald and Coleridge?a confessor and a bandage : so would neither suffer his soul nor

• Crimson tears will follow yel;' body to be handaged.” B. Lellers.

and have they not?B. Letters, 1820. (2) Murat's remains are said to have been torn from the grave (4) "All wept, but particularly Savary, and a Polish officer and burnt.

who had been exalled from the ranks by Bonaparte. He cling (3) “ Talking of politics, as Caleb Quotem says, pray look at to his master's knees; wrole a leuler lo Lord Keith, entreating the conclusion of my .Ode on Waterloo,' written in ihe year permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity. 1815, and in comparing it with the Duke de Berri's catastrophe, which could not be admilled."

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