When virgins seem no longer vain, And must we own thee but a name, A Pylades in every friend? To mingling bands of fairy elves; And friends have feeling for themselves? With shame I own I've felt thy sway No more on fancied pinions soar. And think that eye to truth was dear; To trust a passing wanton's sigh, And melt beneath a wanton's tear! Romance! disgusted with deceit, To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine. It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades was the companion of Orestes, and a partner in one of those friendships which, with those of Achilles and Patroclus, Nisus and Euryalus, Damon and Pythias, have been handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of attachments, which in all probability never existed beyond the imagination of the poet, or the page of an historian, or modern novelist. Now join with sable Sympathy, With cypress crown'd, array'd in weeds, Who heaves with thee her simple sigh, Whose breast for every bosom bleeds; And call thy sylvan female choir, To mourn a swain for ever gone, Who once could glow with equal fire, But bends not now before thy throne. Ye genial nymphs, whose ready tears Adieu, fond race! a long adieu ! The hour of fate is hovering nigh; E'en now the gulf appears in view, Where unlamented you must lie: Oblivion's blackening lake is seen, Convulsed by gales you cannot weather; Where you, and eke your gentle queen, Alas! must perish altogether. ANSWER TO SOME ELEGANT VERSES SENT BY A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, "But if any old lady, knight, priest, or physician, CANDOUR Compels me, BECHER !1 to commend [The Rev. John Becher, prebendary of Southwell, the well known author of several philanthropic plans for the amelioration of the condition of the poor. In this gentleman the youthful poet found not only an honest and judicious critic, but a sincere friend. To his care the superintendence of the second edition of " Hours of Idleness," during its progress through a country press, was intrusted, and at his suggestion several corrections and omissions were made. "I must return you," says Lord Byron, in a letter written in February, 1808, " my best acknowledgments for the interest you have taken in me and my poetical bantlings, and I shall ever be proud to show how much I esteem the advice and the adviser."] The young, the old, have worn the chains of love : My lyre, the heart; my muse, the simple truth. No net to snare her willing heart is spread; November 26. 1806. ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.1 "It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds."- Ossian. NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome! Hail to thy pile ! more honour'd in thy fall No mail-clad serfs,3 obedient to their lord, Their chief's retainers, an immortal band: Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye Retrace their progress through the lapse of time, But not from thee, dark pile! departs the chief; In thee the wounded conscience courts relief, 1 As one poem on this subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no intention of inserting the following. It is now added at the particuiar request of some friends. 2 Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket. [See antè, p. 15. note.] 3 This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, "The Wild Huntsman ; " synonymous with vassal. 4 The red cross was the badge of the crusaders. |