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By thy side for years I dared
Death; and envied those who fell, When their dying shout was heard,
Blessing him they served so well. (1) Would that I were cold with those,
Since this hour I live to see; When the doubts of coward foes
Scarce dare trust a man with thee, Dreading each should set thee free!
Oh! although in dungeons pent, All their chains were light to me,
Gazing on thy soul unbent. Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer, Were his borrow'd glories dim,
In his native darkness share?
All thou calmly dost resign,
Hearts like those which still are thine? My chief, my king, my friend, adieu !
Never did I droop before; Never to my sovereign sue,
As his foes I now implore: All Task is to divide
Every peril he must brave; Sharing by the hero's side
His fall, his exile, and his grave.
Before thee rose, and with thee grew, A rainbow of the loveliest hue Of three bright colours, (2) each divine, And fit for that celestial sign; For Freedom's band had blended them, Like tints in an immortal gem. One tint vas of the sunbeani’s dyes; One, the blue depth of seraph's eyes; One, the pure spirits' veil of white Had robed in radiance of its light: The three so mingled did brsrem The texture of a heavenly dream. Star of the brave! thy ray is pale, And darkness must again prevail! But, oh thou Rainbow of the free! Our tears and blood must flow for thee. When thy bright promise fades away, Our life is but a load of clay. And Freedom hallows with her tread The silent cities of the dead; For beautiful in death are they Who proudly fall in her array; And soon, oh goddess! may we be For evermore with them or thee!
ON THE STAR OF “THE LEGION OF
(FROM THE FRENCH.] Star of the brave!- whose beam hath shed Such glory o'er the quick and deadThou radiant and adored deceit! Which millions rush'd in arms to greet,Wild meteor of immortal birth! Why rise in heaven to set on earth ? Souls of slain heroes form'd thy rays; Eternity flash'd through thy blaze; The music of thy martial sphere Was fame on high and honour here; And thy light broke on human eyes, Like a yolcano of the skies. Like lava rollid thy stream of blood, And swept down empires with its flood; Earih rock'd beneath thee to her base, As thou didst lighten through all space; And the shorn sun grew dim in air, And sel while thou wert dwelling there.
(FROM THE FRENCH.] FAREWELL to the land where the gloom of my glory Arose and o'ershadow'd the earth with her nameShe abandons me now-but the page of her story, The brightest or blackest, is filld with my fame. I have warrd with a world which vanquish'd me
only When the meteor of conquest allured me too far; I have coped with the nations which dread me thus The last single Caplive to millions in war. [lonely, Farewell to thee, France! when ihy diadem
crown'd me, I made thee the gem and the wonder of earth,But thy weakness decrees I should leave as I found Decay'd in thy glory, and sunk in thy worth. (thee, Oh! for the veteran hearts that were wasted In strife with the storm, when their ballles were
Then the Eagle, whose gaze in that moment was
blasted, Had still soard with eyes fix'd on victory's sun! Farewell to thee, France !—but when Liberty ra
lies Once more in thy regions, remember me then,
(1) “At Waterloo, one man was seen, whose left arm was of the like : this you may, however depend on as true."- Pr shallered by a cannon-ball, lo wrench it off with the other, and vale Leller from Brussels throwing it up in the air, exclaimed to his comrades, “Vive (2) The tricolour. I l'Empereur, jusqu'à la mort!' There were many other instances
The violet still grows in the depth of thy valleys :
has bound iis,
FARE THEE WELL.
“Alas! they had been friends in youth;
But whispering tongues can poison Iruth :
But never either found another
Coleridge's Christabel. (1)
Still for ever, fare thee well: Even though unforgiving, nev
'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. Would that breast were bared before thee
Where thy head so oft hath lain, While that placid sleep came o’er thee
Which thou ne'er canst know again: Would that breast, by thee glanced over,
Every inmost thought could show! Then thou wouldst at last discover
'Twas not well to spurn it so. Though the world for this commend thee
Though it smile upon the blow, Even its praises must offend thee,
Founded on another's woe: Though my many faults defaced me,
Could no other arm be found, Than the one which once embraced me, • To infiict a cureless wound?
Yet, oh yet, thyself deceive not;
Love may sink by slow decay,
Hearls can thus be torn away :
Still must mine, though bleeding, beat;
Is that we no more may meet.
Than the wail above the dead;
Wake us from a widow'd bed.
When our child's first accents flow,
Though his care she must forego ?
When her lip to thine is press’d,
Think of him thy love had bless'd!
Those thou never more mayst see,
With a pulse yet true lo me.
All my madness none can know;
Wither, yet with thee they go.
Pride, which not a world could bow,
Even my soul forsakes me now:
Words from me are vainer still;
Force their way without the will.
Turn from every nearer lie,
March 17, 1816 (2).
(1) This motto was not prefixed to these lines until several Tbe saddest period of Lord Byron's life was also, we see. editions had been printed. Mr. Coleridge's poem was, in fact, one of the busiest. His resuge and solace were ever in the pracpablished in June, 1816, and reached Lord Byron after be had tice of his art; and the rapidity with which he continued to pour crossed the Alps, in September. It was then that be signified out verses at this melancholy time, if it tended to prolong sone his wish to have the extract in question astixed to all future of his personal annoyances, by giving malevolent critics fresh copies of his stanzas; and the reader, who might have doubted pretences for making his privale affairs the subject of palli, Mr Moore's assertion in his life, that Lord Byron's hopes of an discussion, has certainly been in no respect injurious to his ultimate reconciliation with bis Lady survived even the unsuc- poetical reputation.-E. cessful negotiation prompted by the kind interference of Madame (2) “It was about the middle of April that his two celebrated de Staël, when he visited her at Copet, will probably now con- copies of verses, “Fare thee well," and "A Sketch," made their sider the selection and date of this motto, as circumstances appearance in the newspapers; and while the latter poem was strongly corroborative of the biographer's statement: generally, and, it must be owned, just ly condemned, as a sort
of literary assault on an obscure female, whose situation oogt “A dreary sea now flows betweenRut neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
to have placed her as much beneath his salire, as the undignified Shall wholly do away, I ween,
mode of his allack certainly raised her above it, with regard 10 The marks of that which once hath been!"
the other poem, opinions were good deal more disided. To .
A SKETCH. (1)
If mothers-none know why-before her quake;
If daughiers dread her for the mothers' sake; "Honest-honest Iago! If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee.”-Shakspeare.
If early habits—those false links, which bind
At times the lofliest to the meanest mindBORN in the garret, in the kitchen bred,
Have given her power too deeply lo instil Promoted thence to deck her mistress' head;
The angry essence of her deadly will; Next-for some gracious service unexpress’d,
If like a snake she steal within your walls, And from its wages only to be guess’d
Till the black slime betrays her as she crawls; Raised from the toilet to the table, --where
It like a viper to the heart she wind, Her wondering betters wait behind her chair.
And leave the venom there she did not find; With eye unmoved, and forehead unabashid,
What marvel that this hag of hatred works She dines from off the plate she lately wash’d.
Eternal evil latent as she lurks, Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie
To make a Pandemonium where she dwells, The genial confidante, and general spy
And reign the Hecale of domestic hells ? Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess-Skill'd by a touch to deepen scandal's tints An only infant's earliest governess!
With all the kind mendacity of hints, She taught the child to read, and taught so well,
While mingling truth with falsehood-sneers with That she herself, by teaching, learn’d to spell.
smilesAn adept next in penmanship she grows,
A thread of candour with a web of wiles; As many a nameless slander deftly shows:
A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming, What she had made the pupil of her art,
To hide her bloodless heart's soul-harden'd schemNone know—but that high Soul secured the heart, A lip of lies—a face form'd io conceal; [ing; And panied for the truth it could not hear,
And, without feeling, mock at all who feel: With longing breast and undeluded car.
With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown; Foil'd was perversion by that youthful mind,
A cheek of parchment-and an eye of stone. Which Flattery fool'd not-Baseness could not Mark, how the channels of her yellow blood blind,
Ooze to her skin, and stagnate there to mud, Deceit infect not-nor Contagion soil
Cased like the centipede in saffron mail, Indulgence weaken-nor example spoil
Or darker greenness of the scorpion's scaleNor master'd Science tempt her to look down
(For drawn from reptiles only may we trace On humbler talents with a pitying frown
Congenial colours in that soul or face)-
As in a mirror of itself defined: Nor fortune change-Pride raise–nor Passion Look on the picture! deem it not o'erchargedbow,
There is no trait which might not be enlarged: Nor Virtue teach austerity- till now.
Yet true lo “Nature's journeymen,” who made Serenely purest of her sex that live,
This monster when their mistress left off tradeBut wanting one sweet weakness—to, forgive. This female doy-star of her little sky, Too shock'd at faults her soul can never know, Where all beneath her influence droop or die. She deems that all could be like her below: Foe to all vice, yet hardly Virtue's friend,
Oh! wretch without a tear-without a thought, For Virtue pardons those she would amend.
Śave joy above the ruin thou hast wrought-
Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now;
many it appeared a strain of true conjugal tenderness,-a kind him injustice. He there described, and in a manner whose of appeal which no woman with a heart could resist; while, by sincerity there was no doubting, the swell of tender recollections others, on the contrary, it was considered to be a mere showy under the influence of which, as he sat one night musing in his ellusion of sentiment, as disticult for real feeling to have pro study, these stanzas were produced, —the lears, as he said, sallduced as it was easy for fancy and art, and altogether unworthy ing fast over the paper as he wrote them.' Neither did it appear, of the deep interests involved in the subject. To this latter opi- from that account, to have been srom any wish or intention of nion I confess my own to have been, at first, strongly inclined; his own, but through the injudicious zeal of a friend whom he and suspicious as I could not help thinking the sentiment that suffered to take a copy, that the verses met the public eye." could, al such a moment, indulge in such verses, the taste that Moore. prompted or sanctioned their publication appeared to me even (1) “I send you my last night's dream, and request to have still more questionable. On reading, however, bis own account of all the circumstances in the Memoranda, I found that on both
. The appearance of the US, confirms, and more than confirms points I had, in common with a large portion of the public, done this. It is blotted all over with the marks of tears,"
May the strong curse of crush'd affections light
March 29, 1816.
Thou wert the solitary star
Which rose and set not to the last.
That watch'd me as a seraph's eye,
Which strove to blacken o'er thy ray-
And dash'd the darkness all away.
And teach it what to brave or brook-
Than in the world's defied rebuke.
That still unbroke, though gently bent,
Its boughs above a monument.
But there thou wert-and still wouldst be
To shed thy weeping leaves o'er me.
Whatever fate on me may fall;
The kind-and thee the most of all.
Be broken-.thine will never break;
Thy soul, though soft, will never shake.
Were found and still are fix'd in thee;And bearing still a breast so tried,
Earth is no desert-even to me.
ENDORSEMENT TO THE DEED OF SEPARA
TION, IN THE APRIL OF 1816.(2)
A YEAR ago you swore, fond she!
“To love, to honour,” and so forth: Such was the vow you pledged to me,
•And here's exactly what 't is worth.
STANZAS TO AUGUSTA.(3)
When all around grew drear and dark,
And reason half withheld her rayAnd hope but shed a dying spark
Which more misled my lonely way: In that deep midnight of the mind,
And that internal strife of heart, When, dreading to be deem'd too kind,
The weak despair-the cold depart; When fortune changed-and love feil far,
And hatred's sha!ts flew thick and fast,
STANZAS TO AUGUSTA.(4)
Anıl the star of my fate hath declined, (5)
The faults which so many could find;
Grly copies struék off, for private distribution. I wish Mr. Gir- were, we believe, the last verses written by Lord Byron in, ford to look at them. They are from life. Lord B. 10 Mr.M.England. In a note to Mr. Rogers, dated April 16th, he says.March 30, 1816.-E.
* My sister is now with me, and leaves town 10-morrov: we (1) In first draughi—"weltering."-"I doubt about weller- shall not meet again for some time at all events,-if ever! and, ing.' We say " weltering in blood;' but do not they also use under these circumstances, I trust to stand excused to you • weltering in the wind,''wellering on a gibbel?' I have no and Mr. Sheridan, for being unable to wait upon him this evendictionary, so look. In the mean time, I have put ' sestering;' ing." On the 25th, the poel look a last leave of his nalive couli which, perhaps, in any case is the best word of the two. Shaks- try.-E. peare has it often, and I do not think it 100 strong for the figure (4) These beautiful verses, so expressive of the writer's in this thing. Quick! quick! quick! quick!” Lord B. to Mr. wounded feelings at the moment, were written in July, at the M. April 2.
Campagne Diodali, near Geneva, and transmitted to England (2) “The lawyers objected to it as superfluous. It was written for publication, with some other pieces. “* Be careful," he as we were getting up the signing and sealing.” Lord B. to says, “in printing the stanzas beginning, “Though the day of Mr. Moore. Ravenna, 1820.
my destiny's,' etc., which I think well of as a composition."-E. (3) His sister, the Honourable Mrs. Leigh.—These stanzas, the is. In the MS.parting tribute to her, whose upshaken tenderness had been the
Though the days of my glory are over, author's sole consolation during:he crisis of domes:ic misery
And the sun of my faine hath declined."-E
Though thy soul with my grief was acquainted,
It shrunk not to share it with me,
It never hath found but in thee,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
July 24, 1816.
Then when nature around me is smiling,
EPISTLE TO AUGUSTA.(3)
My sister! my sweet sister! if a name
Dearer and purer were, it should be thine. And when winds are at war with the ocean, Mountains and seas divide us, but it claim As the breasts I believed in with me,
No tears, but tenderness to answer mine: If their billows excile an emotion,
Go where I will, to me thou art the same It is that they bear me from thee.
A loved regret which I would not resign.
There yet are two things in my destiny,Though the rock of my last hope is shiverid,
A world to roam through, and a home with thee. And its fragments are sunk in the wave, Though I feel that my soul is deliver'd
There first were nothing-had I still the last, To pain-it shall not be its slave.
It were the haven of my happiness; There is many a pang to pursue me:
But other claims and other ties thou hast,
And mine is not the wish to make them less. They may crush, but they shall not condemnThey may torture, but shall not subdue me- A strange doom is thy father's son's, and past 'Tis of thee that I think-not of them.(1)
Recalling, as it lies beyond redress;
Reversed for him our grandsire's (4) fate of yore,-Though human, thou didst not deceive me,
He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore.
If my inheritance of storms hath been
'In other elements, and on the rocks Though trusted, thou didst not disclaim me,
Of perils, overlook'd or unforeseen, 'Though párted, it was not to fly,
I have sustain'd my share of worldly shocks,' Though watchful, 't was not to defame me,
The fault was mine; nor do I seek to screen Nor, mute, that the world might belie.(2)
My errors with defensive paradox;
I have been cunning in mine overthrow,
The careful pilot of my proper woe.
Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward. 'T was folly not sooner to shun:
My whole life was a contest, since the day And if dearly that error hath cost me,
That gave me being, gave me that which marr'd And more than I once could foresee,
The gift,-a fate, or will, that walk'd astray; I have found that, whatever it lost me.
And I at times have found the struggle hard, It could not deprive me of thee.
And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay:
But now I fain would for a time survive,
Thus much I at least may recall,
I have outlived, and yet I am not old;
And when I look on this, the petty spray In the wide waste there still is a tree,
Of my own years of trouble, which have rollid
(1) In the MS.
have no copy of them, I request that you will preserve one for "There is many a pang 10 pursue me,
me in MS.; for I never can remember a line of that nor any other And many a peril to stem ;
composition of mine. God help me! if I proceed in this scribThay may torture, but shall not subdue me;
bling, I shall have frillered away my mind before I am thirty; They may crush, but they shall not contenın."-E
but poetry is al times a real relief to me. To-morrow I am for (2) In the MS.
Italy.” The Epistle was first given to the world in 1830.-E. “Though watchful,'t was but to reclaim me,
(4) Admiral Byron was remarkable for never making a voyage Nor, silent, lo sanction a lie."-E.
without a tempest. He was known to the sailors by the face(3) These slapzas were also written al Diodali; and sent home tious name of "Foul-weather Jack." at the time for publication, in case Mrs. Leigh should sanction it.
“But, though it were tempest-lossed, "There is," he says, “ amongst the manuscripts an Epistle to my
Still bis bark could not be lost." Sister, on which I should wish her opinion to be consulted before
He returned safely from the wreck of the Wager (in Ansor's publication; if she objects, of course omit it.” On the 5th or voyage), and subsequently circumnavigaled the morld, mang October be writes,~"My sister has decided on the omission of years after, as commander of a similar expedition. the lines. Upon this point, ber option will be followed. As I