DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 Treasure %opm 
 


 
 
 
 PERKINS LIBRARY 
 
 
 
 Duke University 
 
 
 
 Kare Books 
 
 
 
 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2012 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://archive.org/details/hoursofidlenesss01byro 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS, 
 
 A 
 
 SERIES OF POEMS, 
 
 ORIGINAL 
 
 AND 
 
 TRANSLATED, 
 
 By GEORGE GORDON, LORD BYRON, 
 a minor; 
 
 Mtjt' up //.e [aocX aim (xinrs rt vsucst. 
 
 Homer. Iliad, 10, 
 Virginibus puerisque Canto. 
 
 Horace. 
 He whistled as he went fop want of thought. 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 $et»a$u 
 
 Printed and sold by S. and J. Ridge; 
 sold also by b. crosby and co. stationers court; 
 longman, hurst, rees, and orme, paternoster* 
 row;f. and c. rivincton, st. paul's church- 
 yard ; AND J. MAWMAN, IN THE POULTRY; 
 LONDON. 
 
 1807, 
 
 159806 
 
\ , 
 
 ( 
 
 i 
 
PREFACE, «&2i\.04 
 
 jREASUte ROOM 
 
 .N submitting to the public eye the follow* 
 ing collection, I have not only to combat the diffi* 
 culties that writers of verse generally encounter, 
 but, may incur the charge of presumption, for 
 obtruding myself on the world, when, without 
 doubt, I might be, at my age, more usefully em- 
 ployed. These productions are the fruits of the 
 lighter hours of a young man, who has lately com- 
 pleted his nineteenth year. As they bear the in- 
 ternal evidence of a boyish mind, this is, peihapsj 
 Unnecessary information. Some few were written 
 during the disadvantages of illness, and dep'essiort 
 of spirits ; under the former influence," Childish 
 Recollections," in particular, were composed. 
 This consideration, though it cannot excite the 
 
 159806 
 
t « ] 
 
 voice of Praise, may at least arrest the arm of cen- 
 sure. A considerable portion of these poems has 
 been privately printed, at the request, and for the 
 perusal of my friends. I am sensible that the par- 
 tial, and, frequently, injudicious admiration of a 
 social circle, is not the criterion by which poetical 
 genius is to be estimated, yet, " to do greatly," we 
 must " dare greatly ;" and I have hazarded ray re- 
 putation and feelings in publishing this volume. 
 " I have pass'd the Rubicon," and must stand or 
 fall by the " cast of the die." In the latter event, I 
 shall submit without a murmur, for, though not 
 without solicitude for the fate of these effusions, my 
 expectations are by.no means sanguine. It is proba- 
 ble that I may have dared much, and done little,; 
 for, in the words of CowpeRj " It is one thing to 
 *' write what may please our friends* who, because 
 *' they are such, are apt to be a little biass'd in our 
 *' fa/our, and another, to write what may please 
 " every body, because they who have no connec- 
 41 tion,or even knowledge of the author, will be sure 
 *' to find fault if they can. "To the truth of this, how- 
 
fC vii ] 
 
 ever, I do not wholly subscribe, on the contrary, 
 I feel convinced, that these trifles will not be treated 
 with injustice. Their merit, if they possess any, 
 will be liberally allowed ; their numerous faults, 
 on the other hand, cannot expect that favour, 
 which has been denied to otheis, of maturer years, 
 decided character, and far greater ability. I have 
 not aimed at exclusive originality, still less have I 
 studied any- particular model for imitation; some 
 translations are given, of which many are paraphras- 
 tic. In the original pieces, there may appear a 
 casual coincidence with authors, whose works I have 
 been accustomed to read, but I have not been guilty 
 of intentional plagiarism. To produce any thing en- 
 tirely new, in an age so fertile in rhyme, would be 
 a Herculean task, as every subject has already been 
 treated to its utmost extent.-^Poetry, however, is 
 not my primary vocation ; to divert the dull 
 moments of indisposition, or the monotony of a 
 vacant hour, urged me " to this sin ;" little 
 can be expected from so unpromising a muse. 
 My wreath, scanty as it must be, is all I 
 
t viii ] 
 
 shall derive from these productions ; and I shall 
 never attempt to replace its fading leaves, or pluck, 
 a single additional sprig from groves, where I am, 
 at best, an intruder. Though accustomed, in my 
 younger days, to rove a careless mountaineer on 
 the Highlands of Scotland, I have not, of late 
 years, had the benefit of such pure air, or so ele- 
 vated a residence, as might enable me to enter the 
 lists with genuine bards, who have enjoyed both 
 these advantages. But they derive considerable 
 fame, and a few, not less profit, from their pro- 
 ductions, while I shall expiate my rashness, as an 
 interloper, certainly without the latter, and in all 
 probability, with a very slight share of the former, 
 I leave to others ft Virum volitare per ora." J 
 look to the few who will hear with patience "dul- 
 ce est desipere in loco.'* — To the former wor- 
 thies, I resign, without repining, the hope of im- 
 mortality, and content myself with the not very 
 magnificent prospect, of ranking " amongst the 
 *' mob of gentlemen who write," my readers 
 must determine, whether I dare say v with ease," 
 
E ix 3 
 
 or the honour of a posthumous page in " The 
 Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors," a work 
 to which the Peerage is under infinite obligations, 
 inasmuch as many names of considerable length, 
 sound, and antiquity, are thereby rescued from the 
 obscurity, which unluckily overshadows several 
 voluminous productions of their illustrious bearers. 
 
 With slight hopes, and some fears, I publish 
 this first, and last attempt. To the dictates of 
 young ambition, may be ascribed many actions 
 more criminal, and equally absurd. To a few of 
 my own age, the contents may afford amusement, 
 I trust, they will, at least, be found harmless. It is 
 highly improbable, from my situation, and pur- 
 suits hereafter, that I should ever obtrude myself 
 a second time on the Public ; nor even, in the very 
 doubtful event of present indulgence, shall I be 
 tempted to commit a future trespass of the same 
 nature. The opinion of Dr. Johnson on the 
 Poems of a noble relation of mine,* " That when 
 
 * The Earl of Carlisle, whose works have Ion?; received the 
 b 
 
[ * 3 
 
 " a man of rank appeared in the character of an 
 " author, his merit should be handsomely ac- 
 " knowledged," can have little weight with verbal, 
 and still less with periodical censors, but were it 
 otherwise, I should be loth to avail myself of the 
 privilege, and would rather incur the bitterest cen- 
 sure or anonymous criticism, than triumph in 
 honours granted solely to a title. 
 
 meed of public applause ; to which, by their intrinsic worth, 
 they were well entitled. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 awmni 
 
 ^-i/N leaving Newstead Abbey 
 
 PACE. 
 I 
 
 On a distant view of the Village and School of Harrow on 
 
 the Hill ; . 4 
 
 Epitaph on a Friend ..... . .7 
 
 A Fragment ........ 9 
 
 The Tear - . : . . , .10 
 
 An occasional Prologue . . . , . ..15 
 
 On the Death of Mr. Fox IT 
 
 Stanzas to a Lady, with the Poems of Camoens . 20 
 
 The first Kiss of Love . , . , . • 22 
 
 To 11 , « . . . . . ■ . .25 
 
 To Woman ........ 2T 
 
 To M. S. G. 29 
 
 To a beautiful Quaker 31 
 
 To ; . . . ( . . . $4 
 
 T« Mary, on receiving her Picture . . . .27 
 
C & ] 
 
 1?A»E. 
 
 Love's last Adieu ....... 39 
 
 Damaetas . . * . . . . . 43 
 
 To Marion ; . 44 
 
 Oscar of Alva 47 
 
 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 
 
 ADRIAN'S Address to his Soul, when dying . 71 
 
 Translation . . . . . . , 72 
 
 Translation^froin Catullus ...... 73 
 
 Translation, from the Epitaph of Virgil and Tibullus 75 
 
 Translation from Catullus 76 
 
 Imitated from Catullus 78 
 
 Translation .from Anacreon. To his Lyre • . 79 
 
 . Ode 3 ... 81 
 
 Fragments of School Exercises . : . 84 
 
 Episode of Nisus and Euryalus ... : . 8* 
 
 Translation from the Medea of Euripides . • 105 
 
FUGITIYE PIECES. 
 
 PAGE* 
 
 THOUGHTS suggested by a College Examination 113 
 
 Answer to some elegant Verses, sent by a Friend to the 
 
 Author . . , . , . IIS 
 
 Granta, a Medley . . , . » , : 121 
 Lachin Y. Gair . . . , . : 129 
 
 To Romance . . . . . . . . 133 
 
 Elegy on Newstead Abbey . . . . » t 13T 
 
 Childish Recollections 148 
 
 The Death of Calmar and Orla j . . s 169 
 To E. N. L. Esq. . ...... . .178 
 
 To s . . i . - ',. 184 
 
„ ERRATA. 
 
 PAtSE 2 line 3" for " ev'y" read " every. ,** 
 , 23 line 4 for '* ef" read " of." 
 48 Jine 5 for " whejt" read " while" 
 64 line 1 for " erowds" read " crowds" 
 84 line 9 for " joylous" read " joyless" 
 86 line 9 for ""lovlier" read " lovelier" 
 * 153^ote-*-las«line,for tt nor"Tead*' non." 
 
POEMS. 
 
 r.HSsiSSso 
 
 ON LEAVING NEWSTEAD ABBEY* 
 
 Why dost thou build the hall, Son of the winged days ? Thou 
 lookest from thy tower to-day, yet a few years, and tbe blast of 
 the desart comes, it howls in thy empty court. OssiAlf* 
 
 Ti 
 
 HRO' thy battlement?, Newstead, the hollow 
 winds whistle; 
 Thou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay ; 
 In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock, and thistle 
 Have choak'd up the rose, which late bloom'd ia 
 tha way. 
 
Of the mail-cover'd Barons, who proudly to battle,. 
 
 Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain, 
 The escutcheon and shield, which with ev'y blast rattle, 
 
 Are the only sad vestiges now that remain. 
 
 No more doth old Robert, with harp..stringing numbers, 
 Raise a flame in the breast, for the war-laurell'd wreath j 
 Near Askalon's towers, John of Horiston* slumbers, 
 Unnerv'd is the hand of his- minstrel, by death, 
 
 Paul and Hubert too sleep, in the valley of Cressy, 
 For the safety of Edward and England they fell ; 
 
 My fathers ! the tears of your country redress you ; 
 How you fought t how you died ! still her annals can 
 tell. 
 
 On Marston,t with Rupert, + 'gainst traitors contend- 
 ing, [field : 
 Four brothers enfich'd, with their blood, t!ie bleak 
 
 • Horiston Castle, id Derbyshire, an ancieat seat of (he Byron 
 family. 
 
 f The battle of Marston Moor, where th« adherents of Chsrlee 
 I. were defeated. 
 
 J Son of the Elector Palatine, and related to Charles T, He af- 
 terward! commanded the fleet, in the reign of Charles II. 
 
For the rights of a monarch, their country defending, 
 Till death their attachment to royalty seal'd. 
 
 Shades of heroes, farewell ! your descendant, departing 
 From the seat of his ancestors, bids you, adieu ! 
 
 Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting 
 New courage, he'll think upon glory, and you. 
 
 Though a tear dim his eye, at this sad separation^ 
 ' Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret ; 
 
 Far distant he goes, with the same emulation, 
 The fame of his fathers he ne'er ean forget. 
 
 That fame, and that memory, still will he cherish, 
 He tows, that he ne'er will disgrace your renown • 
 
 Xiike you will he live, or like you will he perish ; 
 When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own. 
 
 1803. 
 
QN A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE 
 
 y 
 
 AND SCHOOL, OF HARROW, ON THE 
 HILL. 
 
 Oh ! mihi prasteritos referat si Jupiter annos. 
 
 YE scenes of my childhood, whose lov'd recollectiom, 
 Embitters the present, compar'd with the. past ; 
 
 Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection, 
 And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last. 
 
 2. 
 
 Where fancy, yet, joys to retrace the resemblance, 
 Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; 
 
 How welcome to me, your ne'er fading remembrance. 
 Which rests in the bosom, though hope is deny'd. 
 
3. 
 
 Xgain I revisit the hills where we sported, 
 
 The streams, where we swam, and the fields, wher« 
 where we fought ; 
 
 The school, where loud warn'd, by ihe bell, we resorted^ 
 To pore o'er the precepts by Pedagogues taught. 
 
 4. 
 
 ,Again I behold, where for hours I hare ponder'd, 
 As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay ; 
 
 Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'dj 
 Tgj catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. 
 
 5. 
 
 I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded, 
 Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown ; 
 
 While, to swell my young pride, such applauses re- 
 sounded, 
 I fancied that Mossop* himself was outshone. 
 
 * Mossop, a cotemporary of Garrick, famous for his perform- 
 ance of Zanga, ia You ng'» tragedy of the Revenge. 
 
6. 
 
 Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep imprecation, 
 By my daughters, of kingdom and reason depriv'd; 
 
 Till, fir'd by loud plaudits, and self adulation, 
 I regarded myself, as a Garrick reviv'd. 
 
 7. 
 
 Yc dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you, 
 Un faded your memory dwells in my breast ; 
 
 Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you, 
 Your pleasures may still be, in fancy, possest, 
 
 8. 
 
 To Ida, full oft may remembrance restore me, 
 While Fate shall the shades of the future unroll, 
 
 Since Darkness o'ershadows the prospect before me, 
 More dear is the beam of the past to my soul. 
 
 9. 
 
 But, if through the course of the years which await me, 
 Some new scene ©f pleasure should open to view, 
 
 I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, 
 ii Oh ! such were the days, which my infancy knew,. 
 
 1806. 
 
fePITAPH ON A FRIEND. 
 
 Laertitts. 
 
 UH1 Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear ! 
 What fruitless tears have bath'd thy honour'd bier ! 
 What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath, 
 While thou wast struggling in the pangs of death! 
 Could tears retard the tyrant in his course ; 
 Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force ; 
 Could youth and virtue claim a short delays 
 Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey; 
 Thou still had'st lived, to bless my aching sight, 
 Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight 5. 
 If, yet, thy gentle spirit hover nigh 
 The spot, where now thy mould'ring ashes lie* 
 
9 
 
 Here, wilt thou read, recorded on my heart ? 
 A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art. 
 No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep! 
 But living statues, there, are seen to weep ; 
 Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb. 
 Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom. 
 What though thy sire lament his failing line, 
 A father's sorrows cannot equal mine I 
 Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer'. 
 Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here : 
 But, who with me shall hold thy former place 7 
 Thine image, what new friendship can efface ? 
 Ah ! none ! a father's tears will cease to flow, 
 Time will assuage an infant brother's woe ; 
 To all, save one, is consolation known^ 
 While solitary Friendship sighs alone. 
 
 1S08. 
 
A FRAGMENT. 
 
 WHEN, to their airy hall, my fathers' voice 3 
 Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice; 
 When, pois'd upon the gale, my form shall ride. 
 Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side; 
 Oh ! may my shade behold no sculptur'd urns, 
 To mark the spot, where earth to earth returns: 
 No lengthen' d scroll of virtue and renown j 
 My epitaph shall be, my name alone : 
 If that with honour fail to crown my clay. 
 Oh ! may no other fame my deeds repay ; 
 That, only that, shall single out the spot, 
 By that remember'd, or with that forgot. 
 
 1803. 
 
10 
 
 THE TEAR. 
 
 O lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros 
 Duceutiurri ortus ex animo ; quater 
 Felix ! in imo qui scatenteai 
 Pectore te, pta Nympha, sensit. 
 
 Gray. 
 
 WHEN Friendship or Love 
 
 Our sympathies move ; 
 When Truth, in a glance, should appear, 
 
 The lips may beguile, 
 
 With a dimple or smile, 
 But the test of affection's a Tear. 
 
 2. 
 
 Too oft is a smile 
 
 But the hypocrite's wile, 
 To mask detestation, or fear j 
 
 Give me the soft sigh, 
 
 Whilst the soul-telling eye 
 Is dimm'd, for a time, with a Tear. 
 
11 
 
 3. 
 
 Mild Charity's glow, 
 
 To us mortals below, 
 Shews the soul from barbarity clear; 
 
 Compassion will melt, 
 
 Where this virtue is felt, 
 And its dew is diffus'd in a Tear. 
 
 4. 
 
 The man doom'd to sail, 
 With the blast of the gale, 
 
 Through billows Atlantic to steer, 
 As he bends o'er the wave, 
 Which may soon be his grave, 
 
 The green sparkles bright with a Tear, 
 
 5. 
 
 The Soldier braves death, 
 
 For a fanciful wreath, 
 In Glory's romantic career ; 
 
 But he raises the foe, 
 
 When in battle laid low, 
 And bathes ev'ry wound with a Tear. 
 
12 
 
 6. 
 
 If, with high-bounding pride, 
 
 He return to his bride, 
 Renouncing the gore-crimson'd spear ; 
 
 All his toils are repaid, 
 
 When, embracing the maid, 
 From her eyelid he kisses the Tear. 
 
 7. 
 
 Sweet scene of my youth, 
 
 Seat of Friendship and Truth, 
 Where Love chas'd each fast-fleeting year j 
 
 Loth to leave thee, I mourn'd, 
 
 For a last look I turn'd, 
 But thy spire was scarce seen through a Tear, 
 
 8. 
 
 Though my vows I can pour, 
 
 To my Mary no more, 
 My Mary, to Love once so dear j 
 
 In the shale of her bow'r, 
 
 I remember the hour, 
 She rewarded those vows with a Tear, 
 
13 
 
 9. 
 
 By anoher possest, 
 
 May she live ever blest, 
 Iler name still my heart must revere ; 
 
 With a sigh I resign, 
 
 What I once thought was mine, 
 And forgive her deceit with a Tear. 
 
 10. 
 
 Ye friends of my heart, 
 
 Ere from you I depart, 
 "This hope to my treast is most near - s 
 
 If again we shall meet, 
 
 In this rural retreat, 
 May we meet, as we part, with a Tear. 
 
 11. 
 
 When my soul wings her Bightj 
 
 To the regions of nig t, 
 And my corse shall rechne on its tier \ 
 
 As ye pass by the tomb, 
 
 Where my ashes consume, 
 Oh I moisten their dust m ith a Tear, 
 
14 
 
 12. 
 
 / May no marble besto^r 
 
 The splendour of woe, 
 Which the children of vanity rear ; 
 
 No fiction of fame 
 
 Shall blazon my name, 
 All I ask, all I wish, is a Tear. 
 
 J806. 
 
t* 
 
 AN OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, 
 
 BEEIVERED FREVIOlTS TO THE PERFORMANCE OF a THE 
 WHEEL OF FORTUNE," AT A PRIVATE THEATRE. 
 
 SlNCE, the refinement of this polish'd age 
 Has swept immoral raillery from the stage ; 
 Since, taste has now expung'd licentious wit, 
 Which stamp'd disgrace on all an author writ j 
 Since, now, to please "with purer scenes we seek. 
 Nor dare to call the blush from Beauty's cheek ; 
 Oh ! let the modest Muse some pity claim, 
 And meet indulgence, though she find not fame. 
 Still, not for her alone, we wish respect, 
 Others appear more conscious of defect ; 
 To night, no Vet'ran Roscii you behold, 
 In all the arts of scenic action old; 
 No Co ore, no Kembee, can salute you here ? 
 No Siudons draw the sympathetic tear; 
 
lft 
 
 To night, you throng to witness the debut, 
 
 Of e nbryo Actors, to the drama new ; 
 
 Here, then, our almost unfledg'd wings we try; 
 
 Clip not our pinions, ere the birds can fly ; 
 
 i 
 Failing in this our first attempt to soar, 
 
 Drooping, alas '. we fall to rise no more. 
 
 Not one poor trembler, only, fear betrays, 
 
 Who hopes, yet almost dreads, to meet your praise, 
 
 But all our Dramatis Persons wait, 
 
 In fond suspence, this crisis of their fate. 
 
 No venal views our progress can retard, 
 
 Your generous plaudits are our sole reward J 
 
 For these, each Hero all his power displays, 
 
 Each timid Heroine shrinks before your gaze : 
 
 Surely, the last will some protection find, 
 
 None, to the softer sex, can prove unkind ; 
 
 Whilst Youth and Beauty form the female shield. 
 
 The sternest Censor to the fair must yield. 
 
 Yet, should our feeble efforts nought avail, 
 
 Should, after all, our best endeavours fail ; 
 
 Still, let some mercy in your bosoms live, 
 
 And, if you can't applaud, at least forgive. 
 
 
17 
 
 ON 
 
 THE DEATH OF MR. FOX. 
 
 THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMTU APPEARED 
 IN A MORNING PAPER. 
 
 " Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death, 
 " But bless the hour, when Pitt resigned his breath; 
 " These feelings wide, let sense and truth undue, 
 " We give the palm, where Justice points its due." 
 
 TO WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THESE PIECES SENT 
 THE FOLLOWING REPLY: 
 
 Oh ! factious viper ! whose envenomed tooth, 
 Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth ; 
 What, though our " nations foes" lament the fate, 
 With generous feeling, of the .good and great ; 
 
IS 
 
 Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name 
 
 Of him, whose meed exists in endless fame ? 
 
 When Pitt expired in plenitude of power, 
 
 Though ill success obscured his dying hour, 
 
 Pity her dewy wings before him spread, 
 
 For noble spirits " war not with the dead," 
 
 His friends, in tears, a last sad requiem gave, 
 
 As all his errors slumbered in the grave; 
 
 He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight 
 
 Of cares o'erwhelming our conflicting state ; 
 
 When, lo ! a Hercules in Fox appeared, 
 
 Who for a time the ruined fabric reared; 
 
 He, too, is fallen, who Britain's loss supplied, 
 
 With him our fast reviving hopes have died; 
 
 Not one great people, only, raise his urn, 
 
 All Europe's far extended regions mourn. 
 
 " These feelings wide, Let Sense and Truth undue, 
 
 " To give the palm where Justice points it due ;" 
 
 Yet let not cankered calumny assail, 
 
 Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil. 
 
 Fox ! o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep, 
 
 Whose dear remains in honoured marble sleep, 
 
19 
 
 For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groa*, 
 While friends and foes, a ike. his talents o\vn„ 
 Fox! shall, in Britain's future annals, shfn?, 
 Nor e'en to Pitt, the patriot's palm resign ; 
 Which F.nvy, Wearing Candour's sacred mask, 
 For Pitt, and Pitt alone, has dar'd to ask. 
 
20 
 
 STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE 
 POEMS OF CAMOENS. 
 
 J. HIS Totive pledge of fond esteem, 
 Perhaps, dear girl ! for me thou'lt prize ; 
 
 It sings of love's enchanting dream, 
 A theme we never can despise. 
 
 2 - 
 
 Who blames it, but the envious fool, 
 The old and disappointed maid ? 
 
 Or pupil of the prudish school, 
 In single sorrow, doom'd to fade ? 
 
 3. 
 
 . Then read, dear girl, with feeling read. 
 For thou wilt ne'er be one of those; 
 
21 
 
 ■ ■ 
 
 To thee, in vain, I shall not plead, 
 In pity for the poet's woes. 
 
 4. 
 
 He was, in sooth, a genuine bard ; 
 
 His was no faint fictitious flame ; 
 Like his, may love be thy reward ; 
 
 But not thy hapless fate the same. 
 
22 
 
 THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE. 
 
 EpuTx //.avov b%/t. 
 
 ANACREON. 
 
 AWAY, with your fictions of flimsy romance, 
 
 Those tissues of falsehood which Folly has wove j 
 Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, 
 . Or the rapture, which dwells on the first kiss of love, 
 
 2. 
 
 Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with fantasy glow, 
 Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove ; 
 
 From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow. 
 Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love. 
 
f3 
 
 3. 
 
 If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse, 
 
 Or the Nine be dispos'd from your service to rove, 
 
 Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse, 
 And try the effect, of the first kiss ef love. 
 
 4. 
 
 I hate you, ye cold compositions of art, 
 
 Tho' prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove; 
 
 I court the effusions, that spring from the heart, 
 
 "Which throbs, with delight, to the first kiss of love. 
 
 Your shepherd?, your flocks, ■ those fantastical themes, 
 Perhaps, may amuse, yet they never can move ; 
 
 Arcadia displays but a region of dreams, 
 
 What are visions like these, to the first kiss of love ? 
 
 6. 
 
 Oh ! cease to affirm, that roan, since his birlh, 
 From Adam, till now, has with wretchedness strove ; 
 
 Some portion of Paradise still is on eart , 
 And Eden revives, in the first kiss of love. 
 
24 
 
 7. 
 
 When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are pasty 
 For years fleet away with the wings of the dove ; 
 
 The dearest remembrance will still be the last, 
 Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love- 
 
*$ 
 
 » m 
 
 TO M. 
 
 Oh ! did those eyes, instead of fire, 
 With bright, but mild affection shine J 
 
 Though they might kindle less desire, 
 Love, more than mortal, would be thine* 
 
 2. 
 
 For thou art form'd so heav'nly fair, 
 Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam^ 
 
 We must admire, but still despair ; 
 That fatal glance forbids esteem. 
 
 3. 
 
 When nature stamp'd thy beauteous blith } 
 
 So much perfection in thee shone, 
 She fear'd, that, too divine for earth, 
 
 The skies might claim thee for their own, 
 
 s 
 
2<S 
 
 4. 
 
 Therefore, to guard her dearest work, 
 Lest angels might dispute the prize. 
 
 She bade a secret light'ning lurk, 
 Within those once celestial eyes. 
 
 5. 
 
 These might the boldest sylph appal, 
 When gleaming with meridian blaze ; 
 
 Thy beauty must enrapture all, 
 
 But} who can dare thine ardent gaze ? 
 
 6. 
 
 * Tis said, that Berenice's hair, 
 In stars, adorns the vault of heaven ; 
 
 But they Would ne'er permit thee there, 
 Thou would'st so far outshine the seven. 
 
 7. 
 
 For, did those eyes as planets roll, 
 Thy sister lights would scarce appear ; 
 
 E'en suns, which systems now controul, 
 Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. 
 
 1806. 
 
tf 
 
 TO WOMAN. 
 
 Vv OMAN, experience might have told me, 
 
 That all must love thee, who behold thee ; 
 
 Surely, experience might have taught, 
 
 Thy firmest promises are naught ; 
 
 But, plac'd in all thy charms before me, 
 
 All I forget, but to adore thee. 
 
 Oh Memory ! thou choicest blessing, 
 
 "When join'd with hope, when still possessing ; 
 
 But how much curst by ev'ry lover, 
 
 When hope is fled, and passion's over. 
 
 Woman, that fair and fond deceiver, 
 
 How prompt are striplings to believe her ; 
 
 How throbs the pulse, when first we view 
 
 The eye, that rolls in glossy blue 3 
 
«f 
 
 Or sparkles black, or mildly throws 
 A beam from under hazel brows ; 
 How quick we credit ev'ry oath, 
 And hear her plight the willing troth ; 
 Fondly we hope, 'twill last for aye, 
 When, lo ! she changes in a day : 
 This Record will for ever stand, 
 ," Woman thy vows, are trac'd in sand."* 
 
 * The last line is almost a literal translation from a Spanish 
 proverb. 
 
T- 
 
 TQ m. s. a. 
 
 YvHEN I dream that yon love me, you'll surely foz 
 
 Extend not your anger to sleep -;, 
 For, in visions alone, your affection can live, 
 I rise, and it leaves me to weep. 
 
 Then, Morpheus ! envelope my faculties fast. 
 
 Shed o'er me your languor benign ; 
 Should the dream of to-night, but resemble the Ia3t, 
 
 What rapture celestial is mine* 
 
 They tell us, that slumber, the sister of dea 
 
 Mortality's emblem is given ; 
 To fate how I long to resign my frail breL 
 
 If this be a foretaste of Heaven, 
 
so 
 
 4. 
 
 Ah ! frown not, sweet lady, unbend your soft bro\^ 
 
 Nor deem me too happy in this ; 
 If I sin in ray dream, I atone for ft now, 
 hus doom'd, but to gaae upon bliss. 
 
 5, 
 
 Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you may smile, 
 
 Oh 1 think not my penance deficient ; 
 When dreams of your presence, my slumbers beguile, 
 
 To awake, will be torture sufficient. 
 
31 
 
 TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER. 
 
 qWEET girl '. though only once we met. 
 That meeting I shall ne'er forget ; 
 And though we ne'er may meet again, 
 Remembrance will thy form retain ; 
 I would not say, " I love," but still, 
 My senses struggle with my will ; 
 In vain, to drive thee from my breast, 
 My thoughts are more and more represt ; 
 In rain, I check the rising sighs, 
 Another to the last replies : 
 Perhaps, this is not love, but yet, 
 Our meeting I can ne'er forget. 
 
 What, though we never silence broke, 
 Our eyes a sweeter language spoke ; 
 The tongue in flattering falsehood deals, 
 And tells a tale, it never feels ; 
 
& 
 
 Deceit, the guilty lips impart, 
 
 And hash, the mandates of the heart ; 
 
 But soul's interpreters', the eyes, 
 
 Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise 
 
 As thus our glances oft convers'd, 
 
 And all our bosoms felt rehears'd ; 
 
 No spirit, from within, reprov'd us, 
 
 Say rather, u 'twas the spirit moT'd us.'* 
 
 Though, what they utter'd, I Tepress, 
 
 Yet, I conceive, thoult partly guess; 
 
 For, as on thee, my memory ponders, 
 
 Perchance, to me, thine also wanders. 
 
 This, for myself, at least, I'll say, 
 
 Thy form appears, through night, through day t 
 
 Awake, with it my fancy teems, 
 
 In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams ; 
 
 The vision charms the hours away, 
 
 And bids me curse Aurora's ray 3 
 
 For breaking slumbers of delight, 
 
 Which make me wish for endless night* 
 
 Since, oh ! whatever my future iate ? 
 
 Shall joy or woe my steps await ; 
 
35 
 
 Tempted b.y love, by storms beset, 
 Thine image, I can ne'er forget. 
 
 Alas ! again, no more we meet, 
 No more our former looks repeat; 
 Then, let me breathe this parting prayer 
 The dictate of my bosom's care: 
 " May Heaven so guard my lovely quaker, 
 44 That anguish never can o'ertake her; 
 { ' That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her, 
 " But bliss be aye, her heart's partaker. 
 " Oh! may the happy mortal, fated 
 " To be, by dearest ties, related; 
 " For her, each hour, new joy discover, 
 <l And lose the husband, in the lover. 
 iC May that fair bosom never know, 
 iC What 'tis to feel the restless woe, 
 tc Which stings the soul, with vairi regret, 
 (i Of him, who never can forget," 
 
To 
 
 OH ! yes, I will own we were dear to each other- 
 The friendships of childhood, tho' fleeting, are true.; 
 
 The Love which you felt, was the love of a brother. 
 Nor less the affection I cherish'd for you. 
 
 2. 
 But Friendship can vary her gentle dominion, 
 
 Th' attachment of years in a moment expires; 
 Like Love too, she moves on a swift- waving pinion, 
 But glows not, like Love, with unquenchable fires, 
 3. 
 
 Full oft have we wander'd through Ida together, 
 And blest were the scenes of our youth, I allow ; 
 
 In the spring of our life, how serene is the weather, 
 But winter's rude tempests are gathering now. 
 
35 
 
 4. 
 No more with Affection shall Memory blending 
 
 The wonted delights of our childhood retrace, 
 When pride steels the bosom, the heart is unbending, 
 
 And what would be Justice, appears a disgrace. 
 
 5, 
 
 However, dear S , for I still must esteem you, 
 
 The few, whom I love, I can never upbraid, 
 
 The chance' which has lost, may in future redeem you. 
 Repentance will cancel the vow you have made. 
 6. 
 
 I will not complain, and tho' chill'd is affection. 
 With me no corroding resentment shall live 5 
 
 My bosom is calm'd by the simple reflection, 
 
 That both may be Avrong, and that both should forgive 
 
 7. 
 
 You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence. 
 If danger demanded were wholly your own ; 
 
 You knew me unalter'd, by years or by distance. 
 Devoted to love and to friendship alone. 
 
8. 
 
 You knew j— —but away with the vain retrospection, 
 The bond of affection no longer endures ; 
 
 Too late you may droop o'er the fonl recollection. 
 And sigh for the friend who was formerly yours. 
 
 9. 
 
 For the present, we part, — I will hope not forever s 
 For time and regret will restore you at last ; 
 
 To forget our dissention we both should endeavour^ 
 I ask no atonement, but days like the past. 
 
37 
 
 TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. 
 
 X HIS faint resemblance of thy charms, 
 Though strong as mortal art could give, 
 
 My constant heart of fear disarms, 
 Revives my hopes, and bids me live. 
 
 .2 
 
 Here, I can trace the locks of gold, 
 
 Which round thy snowy forehead wave; 
 
 The cheeks, which sprung from Beauty's mould, 
 The lips, which made me Beauty's slave. 
 
 Here, I can trace ah no! that eye, 
 
 Whose azure floats in liquid fire, 
 
 Must all the painter's art defy, 
 And bid him from the task retire. 
 
38 
 
 4 
 
 Here, I behold its beauteous hue, 
 
 But where's the beam so sweetly straying ? 
 
 Which gave a lustre to its blue, 
 Like Luna o'er the ocean playing. 
 
 5 
 
 Sweet copy ! far more dear to me, 
 
 Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, 
 Than all the living forms could be, 
 
 Save her, who plac'd thee next my heart. 
 
 6 
 
 She placed it, sad, with needless fear, 
 Lest time might shake my wavering soul, 
 
 Unconscious, that her image there, 
 Held every sense in fast controul. 
 
 7 
 
 Thro' hours, thro' years, thro' time, 'twill cheer ; 
 
 My hone, in gloomy moments, raise; 
 In life's last conflict, 'twill appear, 
 
 And meet my fond expiring gaze. 
 
39 
 
 LOVE's LAST ADIEU ! 
 
 An d , an (as Q$vyei, 
 
 AJJACREOJf. 
 
 J. HE roses of lore, glad the garden of life, 
 Though nurtur'd 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, 
 
 Till Time crops the leaves, with unmerciful knife. 
 Or prunes them for ever, in love's last adieu ! 
 
 2. 
 
 In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart, 
 In vain, do we vow, for an age to be true ; 
 
 The chance of an hour, may command us to partj 
 Or death disunite us, in love's last adieu ! 
 
3. 
 Still, Hope breathing peace, through the grief-swol- 
 len breast, 
 Will Avhisper, " our meeting we yet may renew ; " 
 With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow's represt, 
 Nor taste we the poison, of love's last adieu ! 
 
 4. 
 Oh ! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth, 
 Love twin'd round their childhood, his flow'rs, a» 
 they grew ; 
 They flourish awhile, in the season of truth, 
 Till chill'd by the winter of love's last adieu ! 
 
 5. 
 Sweet lady ! why thus doth a tear steal its way, 
 
 Down a cheek, which outrivals thy bosom in hue ? 
 Yet, why do I ask ? to distraction a prey, 
 
 Thy reason has perish'd, with love's last adseu ! 
 
 6. 
 Oh ! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind? 
 
 From cities to caves of the forest he flew : 
 There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind, 
 
 The mountains reverberate love's last adieu t 
 
41 
 
 7. 
 
 Now, hate rules a heart, which in love's easy chains^ 
 Once, passion's tumultuous blandishments knewj 
 
 Despair, now, enflamcs the dark tide of his veins, 
 He ponders, in frenzy, on Love's last adieu t 
 
 8. 
 
 How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steef, 
 His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few; 
 
 Who laughs at the pang, that he never can feel, 
 And dreads not the anguish of Love's last,adieu! 
 
 9. 
 
 Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast, 
 No more, with love's former devotion, we sue ; 
 
 He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast, 
 The shroud of affection is Love's last adieu ! 
 
 10. 
 
 In this life of probation, for rapture divine, 
 Astrea* declares that some penance is due j 
 
 • The Goddes* of Justice, 
 
42' 
 
 From him, who has worship'd at love's gentle shrine^ 
 The atonement is ample, in Love's last adieu! 
 
 II. 
 
 Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light, 
 Must myrtle and cypress, alternately, strew j 
 
 His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight, 
 
 His cypress, the garland of Love's laft adieu ! 
 
43 
 
 DAMjETAS. 
 
 In law an infant,* and in years a boy, 
 
 In mind a slave to every vicious joy, 
 
 From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd,, 
 
 In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend ; 
 
 Vers'd in hypocrisy, while yet a child, 
 
 Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild ; 
 
 Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool, 
 
 Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school ; 
 
 Damaetas ran through all the maze of sin, 
 
 And found the goal, when others just begin : 
 
 Ev'n still conflicting passions shake his soul, 
 
 And bid him drain the dregs of pleasure's bowl ; 
 
 But, pall'd with vice, he breaks his former chain, 
 
 And, what was once his bliss, appears his bane. 
 
 * In Law, every person is an infant, who has not attained 
 4Jbeageof21. 
 
44 
 
 TO MARION. 
 
 MARION ! Why that pensive brow 3 
 What disgust to life hast thou ? 
 Change that discontented air ; 
 Frowns become not one so fair. 
 ' Tis not Loye disturbs thy rest. 
 Love's a stranger to thy breast ; 
 He, in dimpling smiles, appears, 
 Or mourns in sweetly timid tears ; 
 Or bends the languid eyelid down, 
 But shuns the pold forbidding frown. 
 Then resume thy former fire, 
 Some will love, and all admire ; 
 While that icy aspect chills us, 
 Nought but cool indiff'rence thrills us. 
 Would'st thou wand'ring hearts beguile a 
 Smile, at least, or seem to smile ; 
 
45 
 
 Eyes, like thine, were never meant 
 
 To hide their orbs, in dark restraint ; 
 
 Spite of all thou fain would'st say, 
 
 Still in truant beams they play. 
 
 Thy lips, — but here my modest Muse 
 
 Her impulse chaste must needs refuse. 
 
 She blushes, curtsies, frowns, — in short she 
 
 Dreads, lest the subject should transport me 5 
 
 And flying off, in search of reason, 
 
 Brings prudence back in proper season. 
 
 All I shall, therefore, say, (whate'er 
 
 I think, is neither here nor there,) 
 
 Is that such lips, of looks endearing, 
 
 Were form'd for better things, than sneering ; 
 
 Of soothing compliments divested, 
 
 Advice, at least's, disinterested ; 
 
 Such is my artless song to thee, 
 
 From all the flow of flatt'ry free ; 
 
 Counsel, like mine, is as a brother's, 
 
 My heart is given to some others ; 
 
 That is to say, unskill'd to cozen, 
 
 ft shares itself amongst a dozen. 
 
Marion ! adieu ! oh !. prithee slight not 
 This warning, tho' it may delight not ; 
 And, lest my precepts be displeasing, 
 To those, who think remonstrance teazing 9 
 At once, I'll tell thee our opinion. 
 Concerning woman's soft dominion: 
 Ilowe'er we gaze with admiration, 
 On eyes of blue, or lips carnation ; 
 Ilowe'er the flowing locks attract us, 
 Howe'er those beauties may distract us; 
 Still fickle, we are prone to rove, 
 These cannot fix our souls to love; 
 It is not too severe a stricture, 
 To say they form a pretty picture. 
 But, would' st thou see the secret chain. 
 Which binds us in your humble train, 
 To hail you queens of all creation, 
 Ivaow, in a word, 'tis Animation. 
 
47 
 
 OSCAR OF ALVA.* 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 JrlOW sweetly shines, through azure skies. 
 The lamp of Heav'n on Lora's shore j 
 
 Where Alva's hoary turrets rise, 
 And hear the din of arms no more. 
 
 at 
 
 But often has yon rolling moon, 
 On Alva's casques of silver play'd ; 
 
 And view'd, at midnight's silent noon, 
 Her chiefs in gleaming mail array'd. 
 
 • The Catastrophe of this tale was suggested by the story of 
 " Jeronymo and Lorenzo," in the first volume of "The Armenian, 
 or Ghost- Seer :" It also bears some resemblance to a scene in the 
 {bird act of <( Macbeth." 
 
48 
 
 3. 
 
 And, on the crimspn'd rocks beneath^ 
 Which scowl o'er ocean's sullen flow. 
 
 Pale in the scatter'd ranks of death, 
 She view'd the gasping warrior low; 
 
 4. 
 
 When many an eye, which ne'er again 
 Could view the rising orb of day, 
 
 Turn'd feebly from the gory plain, 
 Beheld in death her fading ray. 
 
 5. 
 
 Once, to those eyes the lamp of Lore, 
 They blest her dear propitious light : 
 
 But now she glimmer'd from above, 
 A sad funereal torch of night. 
 
 Faded is Alva's noble race, 
 
 And grey her towers are seen afar i 
 No more her heroes urge the chace^ 
 
 Or roll the crimson tide of warw 
 
49 
 
 W 
 
 But, who was last of Alva's clan ? 
 
 Why grows the moss on Alva's stone? 
 Her towers resound no steps of man, 
 
 They echo to the gale alone. 
 
 And when that gale is fierce and high, 
 A sound is heard in yonder hall, 
 
 It rises hoarsely through the sky, 
 
 And vibrates o'er the > mouldering wall* 
 
 9. 
 
 Yes, when the eddying tempest sighs, 
 It shakes the shield of Oscar brave ; 
 
 But, there no more his banners rise, 
 No more his plumes of sable Wave. 
 
 10. 
 
 Fair shone the sun on Oscar's birth, 
 
 When Angus hail'd his eldest born ; 
 
 The vassals round their chieftain's hearth.. 
 
 Crowd to applaud the happy morn» 
 a 
 
$0 
 
 11. 
 
 They feast upon the mountain deer, 
 The Pibroch rais'd its piercing note, 
 
 To gladden more their Highland cheer, 
 The strains in martial numbers float. 
 
 12. 
 
 And they, who heard the war-notes wild, 
 Hop'd that, one day, the Pibroch's straia 
 
 Should play before the Hero's child, 
 While he should lead the Tartan train, 
 
 13. 
 
 Another year is quickly past, 
 
 And Angus hails another son, 
 His natal day is like the last, 
 
 Nor soon the jocund feast was done. 
 
 14. 
 
 Taught by their sire to bend the bow, 
 On Alva's dusky hills of wind ; 
 
 The boys in childhood chas'd the roe, 
 And left their hounds in speed behind. 
 
41 
 
 15. 
 
 / 
 
 But ere their years of youth are o'er, 
 They mingle in the ranks of war ; 
 
 They lightly wheel the bright claymore, 
 And send the whistling arrow' far. 
 
 16. 
 
 Dark was the flow of Oscar's hair, 
 Wildly it streamed along the gale ; 
 
 But Allan's locks were bright and fair, 
 And pensive seem'd his cheek, and pale, 
 
 17. 
 
 But Oscar own'd a hero's soul, 
 
 His dark eye shone through beams of truth * 
 Allan had early learn'd controul, 
 
 And smooth his words had been from youth. 
 
 18. 
 
 Both, both were brave, the Saxon spear, 
 Was shiver'd oft beneath their steel ; 
 
 And Oscar's bosom scorn'd to fear,. 
 But Oscar's bosom knew to feel, • 
 
52 
 
 19. 
 
 While Allan's soul belied his form, 
 Unworthy with such charms to dwell ; 
 
 J£een as the lightning of the storm. 
 On foes his deadly vengeance fell. 
 
 20. 
 
 From high Southannon's distant tower 
 Arriv'd a young and noble dame ; 
 
 With Kenneth's ands to form her dower, 
 Glenalvon's blue ey'd daughter came. 
 
 21. 
 
 And Oscar claim' d the beauteous bride, 
 And Angus on his Oscar smil'd, 
 
 It sooth'd the father's feudal pride, 
 Thus to obtain Glenalvon's child. 
 
 22. 
 
 Hark ! to the Pibroch's pleasing note, 
 Hark to the swelling nuptial song ; 
 
 In joyous strains the voices float, 
 And still the choral peal prolong. 
 
53 
 
 23. 
 
 See how the Heroes' blood-red plumes,. 
 
 Assembl'd wave in Alva's hall ; 
 Each youth his varied plaid assumes, 
 
 Attending on their chieftain's call. 
 
 It is not war their aid demands. 
 
 The Pibroch plays the song of peace ;, 
 
 To Oscar's nuptials throng the bands, 
 Nor yet the sounds of pleasure cease. 
 
 25. 
 
 But where is Oscar ? sure 'tis late : 
 Is this a bridegroom's ardent flame ? 
 
 While thronging guests and ladies wait, 
 JJor Oscar nor his brother came. 
 
 26. 
 
 At leng+h young Allen join'd the bride, 
 
 "Why comes not Oscar?" Angus said ; 
 *' Is he no here ? " the Youth reply'd, 
 With me he rov'd not o'er the glade. 
 
54 
 
 27. 
 w Perchance, forgetful of the day, 
 
 u ' Tis his to chace the bounding roe ; 
 ii Or Ocean's waves prolong his stay, 
 
 M Yet, Oscar's bark is seldom slow.'* 
 
 2S. e 
 
 a Oh no," the anguish'd Sire rejoin'd, 
 " Nor chace, nor wave my Boy delay; 
 
 " Would he to Mora seem unkind r 
 
 " Would aught to her impede his "way ? 
 
 20. 
 
 iC Oh! search, ye Chiefs! oh! search around! 
 
 u Allen, with these thro' Alva fly ; 
 ei Till Oscar, till my son is found, 
 
 a Haste, haste, nor dare attempt reply.'* 
 
 30. 
 
 All is confusion, — through the vale, 
 The name of Oscar hoarsely rings, 
 
 It rises on the mnrrn'ring gale, 
 
 Till night expands her dusky wings. 
 
5$ 
 
 31. 
 
 It breaks the stillness of the night, 
 
 But echoes through her shades in vain 5 
 
 It sounds through morning's misty light, 
 But Oscar comes not o'er the plain. 
 
 * 32. 
 
 Three days, three sleepless nights, the Chief 
 For Oscar search'd each mountain cave 3 
 
 Then hope is lost, in boundless grief, 
 His locks in grey-torn ringlets wavq. 
 
 33 
 
 u Oscar, my Son, — thou God of Heav'n, 
 u Restore the prop of sinking age ; 
 
 ii Or, if that hope no more is given, 
 * 4 Yield his assassin to my rage* 
 
 34. 
 
 <c Yes, on some desert rocky shore, 
 " My Oscar's whiten'd bonas must lie ; 
 
 il Then grant, thou God, I ask no more, 
 a With him his frantic Sire miy d*e. 
 
55 
 
 35. 
 
 sf Yet, he may live,-^-away despair ; 
 
 (i Be calm, my soul, he yet may live j 
 " T' arraign my fate, my voice forbear, 
 
 " O God ! my impious prayer forgive ? 
 
 36*. 
 
 " What, if he five, for me no more, 
 " I sink forgotten in the dust, 
 
 u The hope of Alva r s age is o'er, 
 
 " Alas ! can pangs like these be just ;'?* 
 
 Tbus did the hapless parent mourn, 
 Till Time, who soothes severest woe ; 
 
 Had bade serenity returrt, 
 
 And made the tear-drop cease to flowr 
 
 38. 
 
 For still some latent hope surtiv'd, 
 That Oscar might once more appear j 
 
 H is hope .now droop'd, and now reviv'dj. 
 Till Tiiae had told a tedious year. 
 
so: 
 
 Days roll'd along, the orb of lights 
 Again had run his destin'd race J 
 
 No Oscar bless'd his father's sight, 
 And sorrow left a fainter trace* 
 
 40. 
 
 For youthful Allan still remain' d^ 
 And now his father's only joy ; 
 
 And Mora's heart was quickly gain'd, 
 For beauty crownM the fair*.hair'd boy. 
 
 41. 
 
 She thought that Oscar low was laid, 
 And Allen's face was wond'rous fair^ 
 
 If Oscar liv'd, some other maid 
 
 Had claim'd his faithless- bosom's care, 
 
 42. 
 
 And Angus said, if one year more, 
 In fruitless hope was pass'd away; 
 
 His fondest scruples should be o*er, 
 And he would name their nuptial day, 
 
5& 
 
 4& 
 
 Slow roll'd the moons, but blest at last 3 
 Arriv'd the deafly destin'd morn ; 
 
 The year of anxious trembling past, 
 What smiles the lovers' cheeks adorn! 
 
 44. 
 
 Hark to the pibroch's pleasing note, 
 Hark to the swelling nuptial song ;, 
 
 In joyous strains the voices float, 
 ^.nd still the choral peal prolong. 
 
 45. 
 
 Again the clan in festive crowd, 
 
 Throng through the gate of Alva's hall ; 
 
 The sounds of mirth re-echo loud ; 
 And all their former joy recall. 
 
 46. 
 
 But, who is he, whose darken'd brow 
 Glooms in the midst of general mirth- ? 
 
 Before his eye's far fiercer glow, 
 The blue flames curdle o'er the hearth, 
 
5© 
 
 47. 
 J)ark is the robe which wraps his form, 
 
 And tali his plume of gory red j 
 His voice is like the rising storm. 
 
 But light and trackless is his tread. 
 
 48. 
 
 ' Tis noon of night, tha pledge goes round, 
 The bridegroom's health is deeply quaft ; 
 
 With shouts the vaulted roofs resound, 
 And all combine to hail the draught, 
 
 49 
 
 Sudden the stranger chief arose, 
 
 And all the clamourous crowd are hu3h'd j 
 And Angus' cheek with wonder glows. 
 
 And Mora's tender bosom blush'd. 
 
 50. 
 
 M Did man," he cry'd, u this pledge is done 3 
 <l Thou saw'st, 'twas duly drank by me, 
 
 I* \t hail'd the nuptials of thy son, . 
 s< Now will I claim a pledge from thee, 
 
m 
 
 51. 
 
 6C While all around is mirth and joy, 
 u To bless thy Allan's happy lot ; 
 
 6i Say, had'st thou ne'er another boy ! 
 6i Say, why should Oscar be forgot ? w 
 
 52. 
 
 * £ Alas !" the hapless sire reply'd, 
 The big tear starting as he spoke; 
 
 Ci When Oscar left my hall, or died, 
 6i This aged heart was almost broke. 
 
 53. 
 
 ei Thrice has the earth revolv'd her course, 
 t( Since Oscar's form has bless'dmy sight; 
 
 " And Allan is my last resource, 
 
 " Since martial Oscar's death, or flight." 
 
 54. 
 
 ie 'Tis well," reply'd the stranger stern, 
 And fiercely flash'd his rolling eye, 
 
 u Thy Oscar's fate, I fain would learn, 
 " Perhaps the Hero did not die. 
 
H 
 
 55. 
 
 "Perchance, it' those, whom most he lov'dj 
 *■'' Would call, thy Oscar might return j 
 
 iS Perchance, the cUef has only rov'd, 
 " For him thy Beltane* yet may burn, 
 
 56. 
 
 M Fill high the howl, the table round, 
 
 u -w'e will not claim the pledge by stealth * 
 
 li With wine let every cup be crown'd, 
 " Pledge me charted Oscar's health,." 
 
 57. 
 
 *' With all my bouI," old Angus said;, 
 And fill'd his goblet to the brim ; 
 
 i( Here's to my boy ! alive or dead, 
 " I ne'er shall fold a son like hiin. " 
 
 58. 
 
 * s B rarely, old man, this health has sped, 
 * £ But why does Allan trembling stand! 
 
 • Beltane-Tree— A Highland festival, on the 1st of M«T, 
 held near fires, light*! for the occasion. 
 
62 
 
 " Come, drink remembrance of the dead, 
 " And raise thy cup with firmer hand. * 
 
 59. 
 
 The crimson glow of Allan's face, 
 Was turn'd at once to ghastly hue ; 
 
 The drops of death each other chase 
 Adown in agonizing dew. 
 
 60. 
 
 Thrice did he raise the goblet high, 
 And thrice his lips refused to taste; 
 
 For thrice he caught the stranger's eye, 
 On his with deadly fury plac'd. 
 
 61. 
 
 iC And is it thus, a brother hails, 
 
 u A brother's fond remembrance here! 
 
 u If thus affection's strength prevails, 
 
 " What might we not expect from fear? " 
 
 62. 
 
 Rous'd by the sneer, he rais'd the bowl, 
 
 *< Would, Oscar now could share our mirth! * 
 
Internal fears appall'd his soul, 
 
 He said, and dash'd the cup to earth, 
 
 63. 
 
 ii 'Tis he, I hear my murderer's roice, " 
 Loud shrieks a darkly gleaming form ; 
 
 ei A murderer's voice! " the roof replies, 
 And deeply swells the bursting storm. 
 64. 
 
 The tapers wink, the chieftains shrink, 
 The stranger's gone, — amidst the crew 
 
 A form was seen, in tartan green, 
 And tall the shade terrific grew, 
 
 65. 
 
 His waist was, bound, with a broad belt round, 
 His plume of sable stream'd on high ; 
 
 But his breast was bare, with the red wounds' 
 there, 
 And fix'd was the glare of his glassy eye. 
 
 66. 
 And thrice he smil'd, with his eye so wild, 
 Oa Angus bending low the kneej 
 
JLnd thrice lie frown'd, on a chief on the gt<yitnd f 
 Whom sMtering erowds with horror see* 
 
 67. 
 
 The bolts loudr oil, from po?e to pole, 
 The thunders through the welkin ringj 
 
 And thegieatning form, through the mist of the 
 storm, 
 "Was borne on high by the whirlwinl's wing, 
 
 68r 
 
 Cold was the feast, the revel ceased, 
 Who lies upon the stony floor? ' 
 
 Oil Angus prest, the earth with his breast, 
 At length his life-pulse throbs once more* 
 
 &9. 
 
 •' Away-j away, let the leech essays 
 44 To pour the light on Allan's eyes'; *•" 
 
 Jlis sand is done, — his race is run, 
 Oh ! neter more shall Allan rise ! 
 
 70. 
 
 B«:t Oscar's breast is cold as clay, 
 His loe&s are lifted hy the gak g 
 
65 
 
 And Allan's barbed arrow lay, 
 
 With him in dark Glentanar's Tale. 
 
 71. 
 
 And whence the dreadful stranger came. 
 Or who, no mortal wight can tell ; 
 
 But no one doubts the form of flame. 
 For Alva's sons knew Oscar well. 
 
 72. 
 
 Ambition nerv'd young Allan's, hand, 
 Exulting demons wing'd his dart, 
 
 While Envy wav'd her burning brand, 
 And pour'd her venom round his heart. 
 
 73. 
 
 Swift is the shaft from Allan's bow, 
 
 Whose streaming life-blood stains his side ? 
 
 Dark Oscar's sable crest is low, 
 The dart has drank his vital tide. 
 
 74. 
 And Mora's eye could Allan move, 
 She bade his wounded pride rebel : 
 
 K 
 
05 
 
 Alas ! that eyes, which beam'd with lote ; 
 Should urge the soul to deeds of Hell. 
 
 75. 
 
 Lo, see'st thou not a lonely tomb, 
 Which rises o'er a warrior dead ? 
 
 It glimmers thro' the twilight gloom ; 
 Oh I that is Allan's nuptial bed. 
 
 76, 
 
 Far, distant far, the noble grayd, 
 
 Which held his clan's great ashes, stood j 
 
 And o'er his corse no banners wave, 
 
 For they were stain'd with kindred blood. 
 
 77. 
 
 What minstrel grey, what hoary bard, 
 Shall Allan's deeds on harp. strings raise I 
 
 The song is glory's chief reward > 
 
 But who can strike a murd'rer's praise ? 
 
 78. 
 Unstrung, untouch'd, the harp mttst standj 
 No minstrel dare the theme a* ake ; 
 
67 
 
 Guilt would benumb his palsied h and, 
 His harp in shuddering chords would break. 
 
 79. 
 
 No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse, 
 Shall sound his glories hig'i in air, 
 
 A dying father's bitter curse, 
 
 A brother's death-groan echoes thert. 
 
TRANSLATIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 IMITATIONS. 
 
n 
 
 TRANSLATIONS 
 
 AND 
 
 IMITATIONS. 
 
 ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL fl 
 WHEN DYING. 
 
 ANIMULA! fagula, blanduls, 
 Hospes, comesque, corporis, 
 Quoe nunc abibis in loca I 
 Pallidula, rigida, nudula, 
 Nee, ut soles, dabis joco*„ 
 
n 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 AH ! gentle, fleeting, wav'ring sprite. 
 Friend and associate of this clay ! 
 
 To what unknown region borne, 
 Wilt thou, now, wing thy distant flight ? 
 No more, with wonted humour gay, 
 
 But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn. 
 
75 
 
 TRANSLATION FROM CATULLtfS. 
 
 4{ AI> tESBlAM." 
 
 EQUAL to Jove, that youth must be, 
 Greater than Jove, he seems to me, 
 Who, free from Jealousy's alarms, 
 Securely, views thy matchless charms; 
 That cheek, which ever dimpling glows, 
 That mouth, from whence such music flows, 
 To him, alike, are always known, 
 Reserv'd for hioij and him alone. 
 Ah ! Lesbia » though 'tis death to me, 
 I cannot. choose but look on thee; 
 But, at the sight, my senses fly, 
 I needs must gaze, but gazing die; 
 
74 
 
 Whilst trembling with a thousand fears, 
 Parch'd to the throat, my tongue adheres, 
 My pulse beats quick, my breath heaves shor^ 
 My limbs deny their slight support; 
 Cold daws my pallid face o'erspread, 
 With deadly languor droops my head. 
 My ears with tingling echoes ring, 
 And life itself is on the wing ; 
 My eyes refuse the cheering light, 
 Their orbs are veil'd in starless night | 
 Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, 
 And feels a temporary death* 
 
75 
 
 TRANSLATION 
 
 OF THE 
 
 EPITAPH ON VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS, 
 
 BY DOMIT1US MARSUS. 
 
 JrlE, vrho sublime, in epic numbers roll'd, 
 And he, who struck the softer lyre of lore. 
 
 By Death's* unequal hand alike controul'd 
 Fit comrades in Elysian regions move. 
 
 * The hand of Death is said to be unjust, or unequal, as Virgil 
 v/as considerably older than Tibullus, at his decease. 
 
78 
 
 TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS, 
 
 i( LVCTUS DE MORTE PASSEUIS." 
 
 JL E Cupids, droop each little head, 
 Nor let your wings with joy be spread, 
 My Lesbia's fav'rite bird is dead, 
 
 Whom dearer than her eyes she lov'd 
 For he was gentle, and so true, 
 Obedient to her call he flew, 
 No fear, no wild alarm he knew, 
 
 But lightly o'er her bosom moT'd : 
 
 And softly fluttering here and there, 
 He never sought to cleave the air ; 
 But chirrup'd oft, and free from care, 
 Tune'd to her ear his grateful strain. 
 
77 
 
 Now haying pass'd the gloomy bourn. 
 From whence he never can return, 
 His death, and Lesbia's grief, I rcourn, 
 "Who sighs, alas ! but sighs in vain. 
 
 Oh ! curst be thou, devouring grave ! 
 Whose jaws eternal victims crave, 
 From whom no earthly power can save, 
 
 For thou hast ta'en the bird away : 
 From thee, my Lesbia's eyes o'erflow, 
 Her swollen cheeks, with weeping, glow. 
 Thou art the cause of all her woe. 
 
 Receptacle of life's decay. 
 
78 
 
 IMITATED FROM CATULLUS. 
 
 
 TO ELLEN. 
 
 OH ! might I kiss those eyes of fire, 
 A million scarce would quench desire j 
 S till, would I steep my lips in bliss, 
 And dwell an age on every kiss ; 
 Nor then my soul should sated be, 
 Still, would I kiss, and cling to thee ; 
 Nought should my kiss from thine dissever- 
 Still, would we kiss, and kiss for ever ; 
 E'en though the number did exceed 
 The yellow harvest's countless seed ; 
 To part would be a vain endeavour, 
 Ceuld I desist ? — ah '. never — never. 
 
79 
 
 f RANSLATION FROM ANACREON* 
 
 TO HIS LYRE. 
 
 I WISH to tune my quivering lyre, 
 To deeds of fame, and notes of fire; 
 To echo from its rising swell, 
 How heroes fought, and nations fell j 
 When Atreus' sons advanc'd to war, 
 Or Tyrian Cadmus rov'd afar ; 
 But still, to martial strains unknown 5 
 My lyre recurs to love alone. 
 Fir'd with the hope of future fame ? 
 I seek some nobler hero's namt.; 
 
The dying chords are strung anew, 
 To war, to war, my harp is due ; 
 With glowing strings, the epic s'rain, 
 To Jove's great son I raise again, 
 Alcides, and his glorious deeds, 
 Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds ; 
 All, all in rain, my wayward lyre, 
 Wakes silver notes of soft desire. 
 Adieu ye chiefs, renown'd in arms, 
 Adieu the clang of wars alarms. 
 To other deeds my soul is strung, 
 And sweeter notes shall now be sung; 
 My harp shall all its powers reveal, 
 To tell the tale my heart must feel, 
 Love, love alone, my lyre shall claim, 
 la songs of bliss, and sighs of flame, 
 
SI 
 
 ODE 
 
 1 WAS now the hour whea Night had drirta, 
 Ker car half round yon sable heayea ? 
 Bootes only seem'd to roll 
 His Arctic charge around the Fole ; 
 While mortals lost in gentle sleep, 
 Forgot to smile, or ceas'd to weep; 
 At this lone hour, the Paphiau boy, 
 Descending from the realms of joy ; 
 Quick to my gate, directs his course, 
 And knocks with all his little force ; 
 lly visions fled, alarm'd I rose, 
 *' What stranger breaks my blest repose I " 
 Alas ! replies the w ily child, 
 la faulteriug accents, sweetly mild ; 
 *• A hapless infant here I roam, 
 ** Far from my dear maternal home ; 
 
82 
 
 " Oh ! shield me from the whit'ry blast, 
 
 " The nightly storm is pouring fast, 
 
 il No prowling robber lingers here ; 
 
 iC A wandering baby, who can fear ? '• 
 
 I heard his seeming artless tale, 
 
 I heard his sighs upon the gale ; 
 
 My breast was never pity's foe, 
 
 But felt for all the baby's woe, 
 
 I drew the bar, and by the light, 
 
 Young Love, the infant, met my sight j' 
 
 His bow across his shoulders flung, 
 
 And thence his fatal quiver hung, 
 
 (Ah ! little did I think the dart, 
 
 Wouid rankle soon within my heart :) 
 
 With care I tend my weary guest, 
 
 His little fingers chill my breast, 
 
 His glossy curls, his azure wing, 
 
 WhicR droop with nightly showers, I wring 
 
 His shivering limbs the embers warm, 
 
 And, now, reviving from the storm, 
 
 Scarce had he felt his wonted glow, 
 
 Than swift he seized his slender bow ' r 
 
S3 
 
 * 6 I fain would know, my gentle host, " 
 
 Hjj cried, <: if this its strength has lost ; 
 
 " I fear, relax'd with midnight dews, 
 
 (i The strings their former aid refuse ; 
 
 With poison tipt, his arrow flies, 
 
 Deep in my tortur'd heart it lies : 
 
 Then loud the joyous urchin lauglit, 
 
 44 My bow can still impel the shaft ; 
 
 il 'Tis firmly fix'd, thy sighs reveal it, 
 
 44 Say, courteous host, caiu-t thou not feel it ? " 
 
si 
 
 FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES-, 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 ■PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OF (ESCHTX.US. 
 
 VrRE AT Jove! to whose Almighty throne, 
 Both Gods and mortals homage par, 
 
 Ne'er may my soul thy power disown, 
 Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. 
 
 Oft s:.all the sacred victim fall, 
 
 In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; 
 
 My voice shall raise no impious strain, 
 
 'Gainst him who rules the slcy and azure main. 
 
 How different now thy joylous fate, 
 
 Since first Hesione thy bride, 
 When plac'd aloft in godlike state, 
 
 The blushing beauty by thy side. 
 
Thou sat'st, \?hi!e reTerend Ocean smil'd. 
 
 And mirthful strains the hours beguil'd ; 
 
 The Nymphs and Tritons danc'd around, 
 
 Jsor yet thy doom vras fix'd, nor Jove relentless- 
 
 frorrn'd. 
 
 S arrow, December 1, 1804; 
 
86 
 
 THE EPISODE OF NISUS AND EURYALUS. 
 
 A PxVKAPHRASE FROM THE ^XEID, LIB. 9- 
 
 JNIlSUS, tlie guardian of the portal, stood ? 
 
 Eager to gild his arms with hostile blood ; 
 
 Well skill'd, in. fight, the quiv'ring lance to wield, 
 
 Or pour his arrows through th' embattl'd field ; 
 
 from Ida torn he left his native grove ; 
 
 Through distant climes, and trackless seas to rove. 
 
 To watch the movements of the Daunian host ; 
 
 With him Euryalus, sustains the post, 
 
 No lowlier mien adorn'd the ranks of Troy, 
 
 And beardless bloom yet grae'd the gallant boy ; 
 
 Though few the seasons of his youthful life, 
 
 As yet a novice in the martial strife, 
 
 'Twas his, with beauty, valour's gifts to share, 
 
 A soul heroic, as his form was fair, __ 
 
 These burn with doe pure flame of gen'rous love, 
 
 In peace, in war, united still they move ; 
 
87 
 
 Friendship and glory form their joint reward. 
 And now combin'd they hold the nightly guard. 
 
 u What God !" exclaim'd the first, "instils this fire 
 £i Or, in itself a God, what great desire ? 
 fi My Jab'ring soul, wilh anxious thought opprest. 
 ei Abhors this station of inglorious rest ; 
 11 The love of fame with this can ill accord, 
 ii Be't mine, to seek for glory with my sword. 
 il See'st thou yon camp, with torches twinkling dim, 
 u Where drunken slumbers wrap each lazy limb ? 
 il Whefe confidence and ease the watch disdain , 
 iC And drowsy Silence holds her sable reign? 
 u Then hear my thought: In deep and sullen grief, 
 ** Our troops and leaders mourn their absent chief; 
 '* Now could the gifts, and promis'd prize be thine, 
 ft (The deed, the danger, and the fame be mine ;) 
 tc Were this decreed, — beneath yon rising mound, 
 tc Methinks, ' an easy path, perchance, were found ? 
 44 Which past, I speed my way to Pallas' walls, 
 *' And lead .Eneas from Evander's halls." 
 With equal ardour fired, and warlike joy, 
 His glowing friend address'd the Dardan boy. 
 
SS 
 
 u These, deeds, my Nisas, shalt thou dire aloae ? 
 
 " Must all the fane, the peril be thine own ? 
 
 li Am I by thee despis'd, and left afar, 
 
 tC As one unfit to share the toils of war? 
 
 ' c Not thus, his son, the great Opheltes taught, 
 
 " Not thus, my sire, in Argive combats fought; ' 
 
 " Not thus, when Ilion fell by heavenly hate, 
 
 (i I track'd iEneas through the walks of fate j 
 
 " Thou know'st my deeds, my breast devoid of fear,, 
 
 <: And hostile life- drops dim my gory spear, 
 
 " Here is a soul, with hope immortal burns, 
 
 ii And life, ignoble ///>, for glory spurns, 
 
 tc Fame, fame, is cheaply earn'd by fleeting breathy. 
 
 " The price of honour, is the sleep of death." 
 
 Then Nisus, 6i Calm thy bosom's fond alarms, 
 
 " Thy heart beats fiercely to the din of arms ; 
 * ; More dear thy worth, and valour than my own, 
 11 I swear by him, who fills Olympus' throne ! 
 " So may I triumph, as I speak the truth, 
 ti And clasp again the comrade of my youth: 
 « But, should I fall, and he who dares advance, 
 «' Through hostile legion?, must abide by cbauca.; 
 
89 
 
 * ( If some Rutulian arm with adrerse blow, 
 ii Should lay the friend, who ever lov'd thee, low. 
 < il Live thou, such beauties I would fain preserve, 
 il Thy budding years a lengthen'd term deserve^ 
 " When humbled in the dust, let some one be, 
 " Whose gentle eyes, will shed one tear for me ; 
 ci Whose manly arm may snatch me back by force, 
 u Or wealth redeem, from foes, my captive corse : 
 " Or, if my destiny these last deny, 
 tl If in the spoiler's power, my ashes lie; 
 (i Thy pious care, may raise a simple tomb, 
 u To mark thy love, and signalize my doom. 
 <c Why should thy doating wretched mother weep, 
 ie . Her only boy, reclin'd in endless sleep ? 
 li Who for thy sake, the tempest's fury dar'd, 
 64 Who for thy sake, war's deadly peril shar'd ; 
 u Who brav'd, what woman never brav'd before, 
 ci And left her native, for the Latian shore." 
 a In vain you damp the ardour of my soul," 
 Reply'd Euryalus ! " it scorns controul ; 
 u Hence, let us haste," — their brother guards arose, 
 Rouz'd by their call, nor court again repose; 
 
 N 
 
fe 
 
 The pair buoy'd up on Hope's exulting wingj 
 Their stations leave, and speed to seek the king. 
 Now o'er the earth, a solemn stillness ran, i 
 
 And lull'd alike the cares of brute and man-; 
 Save where the Dardan leaders nightly ho'd, 
 Alternate converse, and their plans unfold ; 
 On one great point the council are agreed, 
 An instant message to their prince decreed ; 
 Each lean'd upon the lance, he well could wield. 
 And pois'd, with easy arm, his ancient shield ; 
 When Nisus and his friend their leave request, 
 To offer something to their high behest. 
 With anxious tremors, yet unaw'd by fear, 
 The faithful pair before the throne appear; 
 'lulus greets them, at his kind command, 
 The elder first, addressed the hoary band. 
 
 Cl With patience," (fhus Hrrtacides began,) 
 6i Attend, nor judge, from youth, our humble plan | 
 Ci Where yonder beacons half expiring beam, 
 <( Our slumbering foes of future conquest dream, 
 
91 
 
 ei Nor heed that we a secret path hare trac'd, 
 
 " Between the ocean, and the portal plac'd : 
 
 " Beneath the covert of the blackening smoke, 
 
 " Whose shade securely ovx design will Cloak! 
 
 " If you, ye chiefs, and fortune,, will allow, 
 
 " We'll bend our course to yonder mountain's brawg 
 
 (i Where Pallas' walls at distance meet the sight, 
 
 " Seen o'er the glade, when not abscur'd by night | 
 
 a Then shall iEneas, in his pride return, 
 
 " While hostile matrons raise their offspring's urn j 
 
 ** And Latian spoils, and purpl'd heaps of dead, 
 
 " Shall mark the havock of oar Hero's tread; 
 
 ii S,uch is our purpose, not unknown the way, 
 
 61 Where yonder torrent's devious waters stray ; 
 
 <{ Oft have we seen when hunting by the stream^ 
 
 *' The distant spires above the vallics gleam. " 
 
 Mature in years, for sober wisdom fam'd, 
 Mov'd by the speech, Alethes, here exclaim' d 8 
 " Ye parent Gods ! who rule the fate of Troy ? 
 " Still dwells the Dardan spirit in the boy j 
 
m 
 
 " When minds like these, in striplings thus ye raistf, 
 
 " Yours is the god-like act, be yours the praise ; 
 
 " In, gallant youth, my fainting hopes revive, 
 
 " And Ilion's wonted glories still survive; " 
 
 Then in his warm embrace, the boys he press'd, 
 
 And quivering strain'd them to his aged breast j 
 
 With tears the burning cheek of each bedew'd, 
 
 And, sobbing, thus his first discourse renew'd : — • 
 
 Cl What gift, my countrymen, what martial prize 
 
 61 Can we bestow, which you may not despise ? 
 
 (i Our Deities the first, best boon have given, 
 
 u Internal virtues are the gift of Heaven. 
 
 il What poor rewards, can bless your deeds on earth. 
 
 M Doubtless await such young exalted worth ; 
 
 u iEneas, and Ascanius shall combine, 
 
 (i To yield applause far, far, surpassing mine." 
 
 lulus then ; " By all the powers above ! 
 
 " By those * Penates, who my country love; 
 
 44 By hoary Vesta's sacred Fane, I swear, 
 
 u My hopes, are all in you, ye generous pair t 
 
 ■ ■■■ 
 * Household Gods. 
 
03 
 
 6i Restore my father, to my grateful sight, 
 
 i{ And all my sorrows, yield to one delight. 
 
 li Nisus ! two silver goblets arc thine own, 
 
 " Sav^d from Arisba's stately domes o'erthrownj 
 
 *' My sire secured them on that fatal day ; 
 
 il Nor left such bowls, an Argive robber's prey. 
 
 " Two massy tripods, also shall be thine, 
 
 " Two talents polished from the glittering mine; 
 
 ii An ancient cup, which Tyrian Dido gave, 
 
 i( While yet our vessels press'd the Punic wave: 
 
 u But when the hostile chiefs at length bow down, 
 
 li When great iEneas wears Hesperia's crown, 
 
 K The casque, the buckler, and the fiery steea*, 
 
 i( Which Turnus guides with more than mortal speed* 
 
 " Are thine; no envious lot shall then be cast, 
 
 " I pledge my word, irrevocably past ; 
 
 li Nay more, twelve slaves and twice six captive dames, 
 
 " To sooth thy softer hours, with amorous flames, 
 
 li And all the realms, which now the Latins sway, 
 
 u The labours of to-night, shall well repay. 
 
 Ci But thou, my generous youth, whose tender years, 
 
 u Are near my own, whose worth, my heart reveres. 
 
tl Henceforth, affection sweetly thus begun, 
 u Shall join our bosoms, and our souls in one J 
 " Without thy aid, no glory shall be mine, 
 " Without thy dear advice, no great design ; 
 ** Alike through life, esteem'd, thou godlike boy. 
 *< In war my bulwark, and in peace my joy.'' 
 
 To him Euryalus, ii no day shall shame 
 
 t:i The rising glories, which from this I claim. 
 
 " Fortune may favour, or the skies may frown # 
 
 •' But valour, spite of fate, obtains renown. 
 
 ii Yet, ere from hence our eager steps depart, 
 
 1 
 " One boon I beg, the nearest to my heart : 
 
 *' My mother sprung, from Priam's royal line^ 
 
 " Like thine eunobl'd, hardly less divine, 
 
 " Nor Troy, nor King Acestes' realms restrai* 
 
 44 Her feeble age from dangers of the main, 
 
 u Hither she came, all selfish fears above, 
 
 6i A bright example of maternal love. 
 
 u Unknown the secret enterprize I brave, 
 
 * Lest grief should bend my parent to the grave* 
 
95 
 
 4i From this alone no fond adieus I seek, 
 " No fainting mother's lips hare press'd my cheek ; 
 11 By gloomy Night, and thy right hand I vow, 
 li Her parting tears would shake my purpose now : 
 *' Do thou, my prince, her failing age sustain, 
 " In thee her much loved child may live again ; 
 " Her dying hours with pious conduct bless, 
 €i Assist her wants, relieve her fond distress: 
 il So dear a hope must all my soul enfiame, 
 " To rise in glory, or to fall in fame." 
 Struck with a filial care, so deeply felt, 
 In tears, at once the Trojan warriors melt; 
 Faster than all lulus' eyes o'erflow, 
 Such love was his, and such had been his woe. 
 *' All thou hast ask'd, receive," the prince reply'd, 
 li Nor this alone, but many a gift beside ; 
 " To cheer thy mother's years shall be my aim, 
 *' Creusa's * style, but wanting to the dame ; 
 '* Fortune an adverse wayward course may run, 
 *' But* blest thy mother, in so dear a son. 
 i . ■ . - - __ 
 
 * The mother of lulus, lost on the night when Troy was taken. 
 
" Now, by my life, my sire's most sacred oath, 
 '•'• To thee I pledge my full, my firmest troth, 
 tc AH the rewards which once to thee were vow'd, 
 4C If thou should'st fall, on her shall be bestow'd." 
 Thus spoke the weeping prince, then forth to view, 
 A gleaming falchion from the sheath he drew ; 
 Lycaon's utmost skill had grac'd the steel, 
 For friends to envy, and for foes to feel. 
 A tawny hide, the Moorish lion's spoil, 
 Slain midst the forest, in the hunter's toil, 
 Mnest'ieus to guard the elder youth bestows, 
 And old Alethes' casque defends his brows : 
 Aren'd, thence they go, while all the assembl'd train, 
 To aid their cause, implore the gods in Tain; 
 3fore than a boy, in wisdom and in grace, 
 lulus holds amidst the chiefs his place, 
 Ills prayers he sends, but what can prayers avail! 
 Lost in the murmurs of the sighing gale ! 
 
 The trench is past, and favoured by the night, 
 Through sleeping foes, they wheel their wary flight | 
 
97 
 
 When shall the sleep of many a foe be o'er? 
 
 Alas! some slumber, who shall wake no more! 
 
 Chariots and bridles, mix'd with arms are seen, 
 
 And flowing flasks, and scatter'd troops between; 
 
 Bacchus and Mars, to rule tha camp, combine, 
 
 A mingl'd Chaos, this, of war and wine. 
 
 Now, cries the first, u for deeds of blood prepare, 
 
 iC With me the conquest, and the labour share; 
 
 " Here lies our path, lest any hand arise, 
 
 H Watch thou, while many a dreaming chieftain dies; 
 
 " I'll carve our passage, through the heedless foe, 
 
 Ci And clear thy road, with many a deadly blow." 
 
 His whispering accents then the youth represt, 
 
 And pierc'd proud Rhamnes through his panting breast, 
 
 Stretch'd at his ease, th' incautious king repos'd, 
 
 Debauch, and not fatigue, his eyes had clos'd; 
 
 To Turnus dear, a prophet and a prince, 
 
 His omens more than augur's skill evince: 
 
 But he who thus foretold the fate of all, 
 
 Could not avert his own untimely fall. 
 
 Next Remus' armour-bearer, hapless fell, 
 
 And three unhappy slaves' the carnage swell 3 
 
98 
 
 The charioteer, along his courser's sides, 
 Expires, the steel his sever'd neck divides ; 
 And, last, his Lord is number'd with the dead, 
 Bounding convulsive, flies the gasping head ; 
 From the swol'n veins, the blackening torrents pour^ 
 Stain'd is the couch and earth, with clotting gore. 
 Young Lamyrus and Lamus next expire, 
 And gay Serranus fill'd with youthful fire ; 
 Half the long night in childish games was past, 
 Lull'd by the potent grape, he slept at last ; 
 Ah ! happier far, had he the morn survey'd, 
 And, 'till Aurora's dawn, his skill display'd. 
 
 In slaughter's folds, the keepers lost in sleep. 
 His hungry fangs a lion thus may steep ; 
 'Mid the sad flock, at dead of night, he prowls, 
 With murder glutted, and in carnage rolls ; 
 Insaiiate still, through teeming herds he roams, 
 In seas of gore, the lordly tyrant foams. 
 
 Nor less the others deadly vengeance came; 
 But falls on feeble crowds without a name ; 
 
99 
 
 His wound, unconscious Fadus, scarce can feel, 
 
 Yet, wakeful Rhaesus sees the threatning steel ; 
 
 His coward breast behind a jar he hides, 
 
 And, vainly, in the weak defence confides ; 
 
 Full in his heart, the falchion search'd his veins, 
 
 The reeking weapon bears alternate stains ; 
 
 Through wine and blood, commingling as they flow s 
 
 The feeble spirit seeks the shades below. 
 
 Now, where Messapus dwelt, they bend their way, 
 
 Whose fires emit a faint and trembling ray ; 
 
 There, unconfin'd, behold each grazing steed, 
 
 Unwateh'd, unheeded, on the herbage feed j 
 
 Brave Nisus here arrests his comrade's arm, 
 
 Too flush'd with carnage, and with conquest warm : 
 
 u Hence let us haste, the dangerous path is past, 
 
 Ci Full foes enough, to-night, have breath'd their last ; 
 
 il Soon will the Day those Eastern clouds adorn, 
 
 u Now let us speed, nor tempt the rising morn." 
 
 What silver arms, with various art embost ; 
 What bowls and mantles, in coufusion tost, 
 
100 
 
 They leate regardless ! yet, one glittering praty 
 Attracts the younger Hero's wand' ring eyes ; 
 The gilded harness Rhaames' coursers felt, 
 The gems which stud, the monarch's gol.len belt.; 
 This from the pallid corse was quickly torn, 
 Once by a line of former chieftains worn. 
 Th' exulting boy, the studded girdle wears, 
 Messapus' helm his head, in triumph, bears ; 
 Then from the tents their cautious steps they bend, 
 To seek the vale, where safer paths extend. 
 
 Just at this hour, a band of Latian horse, 
 To Turnus' camp, pursue their destin'd course ; 
 While the slow foot, their tardy march delay, 
 The knights impatient spur along the way : 
 Three hundred mail-clad men, by Volscens led, 
 To Turnus, with their master's promise sped ; 
 Now they approach the trench, and view the walls s 
 When, on the left, a light reflection falls, 
 The plunder'd helmet, through the waning night, 
 Sheds forth a silver radiance, glancing bright $ 
 
101 
 
 WotsceaSy with question load, the pair alarms, 
 
 .*' Stand, Stragglers ! stand! why early thus in arms? 
 
 >' From whence, to whom ?" he meets with no reply,, 
 
 Trusting the covert of the night they fly ; 
 
 The thicket's depth, with hurried pace, they tread, 
 
 While round the wood the hostile squadron spread. 
 
 With brakes entangled, scarce a path between, 
 Dreary and dark appears the sylvan scene ; 
 Euryalus, his heavy spoils impede, 
 The boughs and winding turns his steps mislead ; 
 But Nisus scours along the forest's maze, 
 To where Latinus' steeds in safety graze, 
 Then backward o'er the plain his eyes extend, 
 On ev'ry side, they seek his absent friend. 
 « O God, my boy," he cries, " of me bereft, 
 '* In what impending perils art thou left I " 
 Listening he runs— above the waving trees, 
 Tumultuous voices swell the passing breeze ; 
 The war-cry rises, thundering hoofs around 
 Wake the dark echoes of the trembling ground. 
 
102 
 
 Again he turns : — of footsteps hears the noise, 
 The sound elates — the sight his hope destroys, 
 The hapless boy, a ruffian train surround, 
 "While lengthening shades, his weary way confound ; 
 Him, with loud shouts, the furious knights pursue, 
 Struggling in vain, a captive to the crew. 
 What can his friend 'gainst thronging numbers dare ? 
 Ah I must he rush, his comrade's fate to share ! 
 What force, what aid, what stratagem essay, 
 Hack to redeem the Latiaa spoilers' prey ! 
 His life a votive ransom nobly give, 
 Or die with him, for whom he wish'd to live V 
 Poising with strength his lifted lance on high, 
 Oa Luna's orb, he cast his phrenzied eye, 
 " Goddess serene, transcending every star f 
 u Queen of the sky ! whose beams are seen afar ; 
 -." By night, Heaven owns thy sway, by day, the grove> 
 *' When, as chaste Dian, here thou deign'st to rove ; 
 u If e'er myself, or sire, have sought to grace 
 " Thine altars, with the produce of the chace ; 
 " Speed, speed, my dart, to pierce yon vaunting crowd^ 
 5* To free my friend, and scatter far the proud." 
 
103 
 
 Thus having said, the hissing dart he fluag, 
 Through parted shades, the hurtling weapon sung ; 
 The thirsty point in Sulmo's entrails lay, 
 Transfix'd his heart, and stretch'd him on the clay j 
 He sobs, he dies, — the troop, in wild amaze, 
 Unconscious whence the death, with horror gaze ; 
 While pale they stare, thro' Tagus' temples riven, 
 A second shaft, with equal force, is driven; 
 Fierce Volscens rolls around his lowering eyes, 
 Veil'd by the night, secure the Trojan lies. 
 Burniug with wrath, he view'd his soldiers fall, 
 " Thou youth accurst; thy life shall pay for all ;*' 
 Quick from the sheath his flaming glaive he drew, 
 And, raging, on the boy defenceless flew. 
 Nisus, no more the blackening shade conceals, 
 Forth, forth he starts, and all his love reveals ; 
 Aghast, confus'd, his fears to madness rise, 
 And pour these accents, shrieking as he flies ; 
 " Me, me, your vengeance hurl, on me alone, 
 iC Here sheathe the steel, my blood is all your own^ 
 • e Ye starry Spheres ! thou conscious Heaven attest! 
 " He could not— durst not=—l©! the guile confest! 
 
104 
 
 xi All, all was mine, — Iiis early fate suspend, 
 
 " He only lov'd, too well, his hapless friend ; 
 
 " Spare, spare ye Chiefs ! from him your rage remove^ 
 
 u His fault was friendship, all his crime was love." 
 
 He pray'd in vain, the dark assassin's sword, 
 
 Pierc'd the fair side, the snowy bosom gor'd; 
 
 Lowly to earth, inclines his plume-clad crest; 
 
 And sanguine torrents, mantle o'er his breast, 
 
 As some young rose, whose blossom scents the air^ 
 
 Languid in death, expires beneath the share ; 
 
 Or crimson poppy, sinking with the shower, 
 
 Declining gently, falls a fading flower ; 
 
 Thus sweetly drooping, bends his lovely head s 
 
 And lingering Beauty hovers round the dead. 
 
 But fiery Nisus stems the battle's tide, 
 Revenge his leader, and Despair his guide ; 
 Volscens he seeks, amidst the gathering host, 
 Volscens must soon appease his comrade's ghost ; 
 Steel, flashing, pours on steel, foe crowds on foe, 
 Rage nerves his arm, Fate gleams in ev'ry blow ; 
 
105 
 
 In rain beneath unnumber'd wounds he bleeds. 
 Nor wounds, nor death, distracted Nisus heeds; 
 In viewless cir Jes wheel'd, his falchion flies, 
 Njr quits the Hero's grasp, till Volscens dies, 
 Deep in his throat, its end the weapon found, 
 The tyrant's soul fled groaning through the wound. 
 Thus Nisus all his fond affection prov'd, 
 Dying, reveng'd the fate of him he lov'd ; 
 Then on his bosom, sought his wanted place. 
 And death was heavenly, in his friend's embrace ! 
 
 Celestial pair ! if aught my verse can claim, 
 Wafted on Time's broad pinion, yours is fame ! 
 A^es on ages, shall your fate admire 
 Nj future day, shall see your names expire ; 
 While stands the Capitol, immortal dome ! 
 4nd vanquish' d millions, hail their empress, Rome I 
 
106 
 
 TRANSLATION" 
 
 FROM THE 
 
 MEDEA OF EURIPIDES, 
 
 W HEN fierce conflicting passions urge 
 
 The breast, where love i wont to glow, 
 What mind can stem the stormy surge, 
 
 Which rolls the tide of human woe ? 
 The hope of praise, the dread of shame, 
 
 Can rouse the tortur'd breast no more ; 
 The wild desire, the guilty flame, 
 
 Absorbs each wish it felt before, 
 
 % 
 
 But, if affection gently thrills 
 
 The soul, by purer dreams possest^ 
 
 The pleasing balm of mortal ills, 
 
 In love can soothe the aching breast | 
 
107 
 
 If tlin'?, thou corrTst in gentle guise, 
 Fair Venus! from thy native heaven, 
 
 What he.srt, unfeeling, would despise 
 The sweetest boon the gods have given ? 
 
 3. 
 
 But, never from thy golden how, 
 
 May I beneath the shaft expire, 
 Whose creeping venom, sure and slow$ 
 
 Awakes an all-consuming fire ; 
 Ye racking doubts ! ye jealous fears I 
 
 With others Avage internal war ; 
 Repentance ! source of future tearSj 
 
 From me be ever distant far. 
 
 4. 
 May no distracting thoughts destroy 
 
 The holy calm of sacred love ! 
 May all the hours be wing'd with joy, 
 
 Which hover faithful hearts above ! 
 Fair Venus ! on thy myrtle shrine, 
 
 May I with some fond lover sigh ! 
 Whose heart may mingle pure with mine A 
 
 With me to live, with me to die. 
 
108 
 
 5. 
 
 My native soil ! belov'd before, 
 
 Now dearer, as my peaceful liome^ 
 Ne'er may I quit thy rocky shore, 
 
 A hapless, banish'd Wretch to roam ; 
 This very day, this very hour, 
 
 May I resign this fleeting breath, 
 Nor quit my silent humble bower; 
 A doom, to me, far worse than death* 
 
 6. 
 
 Have I not heard the exile's sigh ? 
 
 And seen the exile's silent tear ? 
 Through distant climes condenin'd to fly # 
 
 A pensive, weary wand'rer here; 
 Ah! hapless dame!* no sire bewails, 
 
 No friend thy wretched fate deplores, 
 
 * Medea, who accompanied Jason to Corinth, was deserted by 
 him for the dau?hfer of Creon, king of thaf city. The Chorus from 
 which this is taken here address Me 'en: though a considerable li- 
 ber'} is taken with the original, by expanding the idea, as also in 
 some other parts of the translation. 
 
109 
 
 Xo kindred voice with rapture T ails 
 Thy steps, within a stranger's doors* 
 
 7. 
 
 Perish the fiend ! whose iron heart, 
 
 To fair affection's truth unknown, 
 Bids her, he fonaly lov'd, depart, 
 
 Unpitied, helpless, and alone; 
 Who ne'er unlocks, with silver key, * 
 
 The milder treasures of his soul ; 
 May such a friend be far from me, 
 
 And Ocean's storms between us roll ! 
 
 * The original is "KxQ&pxv avoi^xvrt K\yi$x (ppvwy, " litg* 
 rally " disclosiog the bright Key of the mind." 
 
FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
113 
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
 ■ t 
 
 THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE 
 EXAMINATION.* 
 
 HIGH in the midst, surrounded by his peers, 
 Magnus his ample front sublime uprears ; 
 
 * Vo reflec'ion is here intended against the person mentioned 
 under the name of Magnus He is merely represented, as per- 
 forming an unavoidable function of his office : indeed, such an 
 atten p co. Id only rejoil upon myself; a* that gentleman is now 
 as mucn distinguished by his eloquence, and the dignified pro- 
 priety with which he fills his situation, as he was in his joungw 
 days, for wit and conviviality. 
 
 Q 
 
114 
 
 Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God, 
 While Sophs and Freshmen tremble at his nod. 
 As all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom, 
 His voice, in thunder, shakes the sounding dome; 
 Denouncing dire reproach to luckless fools,- 
 Unskill'd to plod in mathematic rules. 
 
 Happy the youth ! in Euclid's axioms tried, 
 Though little vers'd in any art beside : 
 Who, scarcely skill'd an English line to pen, 
 Scans Attic metres, with a critic's ken. 
 What ! though he knows not how his fathers bled, 
 When civil discord pil'd the fields with dead ; 
 When Edward bade his conquering bands advance, 
 Or Henry trampled on the crest of France ; 
 Though, marv'lling at the name of Magna Charta, 
 Yet, well he recollects the laws of Sparta ; 
 Can tell what edicts sage Lycurgus made, 
 Whilst Blackstone's on the shelf, neglected, laid * 
 Of Grecian dramas vaunts the deathless fame, 
 Of Avon's bard, rememb'ring scarce the name. 
 
115 
 
 Such is the youth, whose scientific pate, 
 Class honours, medals, fellowships, await ; 
 Or, even, perhaps, the declamation prize, 
 If, to such glorious height, he lift his eyes. 
 But, lo ! no common orator can hope, 
 The envied silver cup within his scope : 
 Not that our heads much eloquence require, 
 Th' Athenian's glowing style, or Tully's fire. 
 A manner clear or warm is useless since 
 We do not try, by speaking, to convince ; 
 Be other orators of pleasing proud, 
 We speak, to please ourselves, not move the crowd 
 Our gravity prefers the muttering tone, 
 A proper mixture of the squeak aud groan ; 
 No borrow'd grace of action, must be seen, 
 The slightest motion would displease the dean ; 
 Whilst ev'ry staring graduate would prate, 
 Against what he could never imitate. 
 
 The man, who hopes t' obtain the promised cup, 
 ^lust in one posture stand, and ne'er look up ; 
 
US 
 
 ANSWER TO SOME ELEGANT VERSES, 
 
 SENT BY 
 
 A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, 
 
 COMPLAINING THAT ONE OF HIS DESCRIPTIONS WAS 
 RATHER TOO WARMLY DRAWN. 
 
 *' Bat, if any old Lady, Knight, Priest, or Physician, 
 " Should condemn me for printing a second edition ; 
 "If good Madam Squinrum my work should abuse, 
 " May I venture to give her a smack of my muse ?" 
 
 Anstey's New Bath Guide, page 169. 
 
 CANDOUR compels me, B — n — r I to commend, 
 The Terse, which blends the censor with the friend j 
 Your strong, yet just, reproof extorts applause, 
 From mc, the heedless and imprudent cause ; 
 
116 
 
 For this -wild error, which pervades my strain, 
 
 I sue for pardon, — must I sue in Tain? 
 
 The wise, sometimes, from Wisdom's ways depart ;. 
 
 Can youth then hush the dictates of the heart ? 
 
 Preceots of prudence curb, but can't controul, 
 
 The fierce emotions of the flowing soul. 
 
 When Love's delirium haunts the glowing mind ? 
 
 Limping Decorum lingers far behind; 
 
 Vainly the dotard mends her prudish pace, 
 
 Outstript and vanquished in the mental chace ; 
 
 The young, the old, have worn the chains of Jove, 
 
 Let those, they ne'er confin'd, my lay reprove : 
 
 Let those^ whose souls contemn the pleasing power, 
 
 Their censures on the hapless victim shower ; 
 
 Oh ! how I hate the nerveless, frigid song, 
 
 The ceaseless echo of the rhyming throng ; 
 
 Whose labour'd lines, in chilling numbers flow, 
 
 To paint a pang the author ne'er can know. 
 
 The artless Helicon, I boast, is Youth ; 
 
 II y Lyre, the Heart ; — my Muse, the simple Truth ; 
 
 Far be't from me, the a virgin's mind" to u taint". 
 
 Seduction's dread, is liere-ao slight restraint: 
 
no 
 
 "The maid, whose virgin breast is void of guilej 
 Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile ; 
 Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton Jeer, 
 Firm in her virtue's strength, yet not severe ; 
 She, whom a conscious grace shall thus refine, 
 Will ne'er be " tainted " by a strain of mine. 
 But, for the nymph, whose premature desire» 
 Torment her bosom with unholy fires, 
 No net to snare her willing heart is spread, 
 She would have fallen, tho' she ne'er had read* 
 For me, I fain would please the chosen few, 
 Whose souls, to feeling, and to nature true, 
 Will spare the childish verse, and not destroy 
 The light effusions of a heedless boy. 
 I seek not glory from the senseless crowd, 
 Of fancied laurels, I shall ne"er be proud ; 
 *Their warmest plaudits I would scarcely prizes 
 Their sneers,, or eensnres, I alike despise. 
 
121 
 
 GRANTA, A MEDLEY. 
 
 Apyvpixtf ^.oy^xtffi /*«%« xxi itxtrcc K.p*TWren*<i 
 
 Oh ! could Le Sage's * demon's gift. 
 
 Be realiz'd at my desire ; 
 This night my trembling form he'd lift, 
 
 To place it on St. Mary's spire. 
 
 2. 
 
 Then would, unroof 'd, old Granta's halls 
 Pedantic inmates full display ; 
 
 Fellows, who dream on lawn, or stalls, 
 The price of venal rotes to pay. 
 
 * The Diable Boiteuz of Lb Sage, where Asmodeus, the De- 
 mon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the 
 houses for his inspection* 
 
122 
 
 3. 
 
 Then would I view each rival wight, 
 P— tty and P — lm— s— n survey ; 
 
 Who canvass there, with all their might, 
 Against the next elective day. 
 
 4. 
 
 Lo ! candidates and voters lie, 
 
 All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number ! 
 
 A race renown'd for piety, 
 
 Whose conscience wont disturb their slumber. 
 
 5. 
 
 Lord H indeed, may not demur, 
 
 Fellows are sage, reflecting, men ; 
 
 They know preferment can occur, 
 But very seldom, now and then, 
 
 6. 
 
 They know, the Chancellor has got 
 
 Some pretty livings, in disposal ; 
 Each hopes, that one may be his lot, 
 
 And, therefore, smiles on his proposal. 
 
123 
 
 7. 
 
 Now, from the soporific scene, 
 
 I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, 
 To view, unheeded, and unseen, 
 
 The studious sons of Alma Mater. 
 
 8. 
 
 There, in apartments small and damp 
 The candidate for college prizes, 
 
 Sits poring by the midnight lamp, 
 Goes late to bed, yet early rises. 
 
 He surely well deserves to gain them, 
 With all the honours of his college, 
 
 Who, striving hardly to obtain them, 
 Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge. 
 
 10. 
 
 Who sacrifices hours of rest, 
 To scan precisely metres Attic ; 
 
 Or agitates his anxious breast, 
 In solving problems mathematics 
 
124 
 
 11. 
 
 Who reads false quantities in Sele, * 
 Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle ; 
 
 Depriv'd of many a wholesome meal, 
 
 In barbarous latin, f tioom'd to wrangle. 
 
 12. 
 
 Renouncing every pleasing page, 
 
 From authors of historic use ; 
 Preferring to the lettered sage, 
 
 The square of the hypothenuse. + 
 
 13. 
 
 Still harmless are these occupations, 
 
 That hurt none but the hapless student, 
 
 * Sele's publication on Greek metres, displays considerable 
 talent aad ingenuity, but, as might be expected in so difficult a 
 work, is not remarkable for accuracy. 
 
 + The Latin of the schools is of the canine species and 
 not very intelligible. 
 
 { The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the Hypo- 
 thenuse, is equal to the squaresof the other two sides of a right 
 angled triangle. 
 
125 
 
 Compar'd with other recreations, 
 Which bring together the imprudent. 
 
 14. 
 
 Whose daring revels shock the sight, 
 When vice and infamy combine; 
 
 When drunkenness and dice unite, 
 As every sense is steep'd in wine. 
 
 15. 
 
 Not so, the methodistic crew, 
 g. Who plans of reformation lay ; 
 In humble attitude they sue, 
 And for the sins of others pray. 
 
 16. 
 
 Forgetting that their pride of spirit, 
 Their exultation in their trial ; 
 
 Detracts, most largely, from the merit 
 Of all their boasted self. denial* 
 
 17. 
 
 >Tis morn, — from these I turn my sight, 
 What scene is this, which meets the eye ? 
 
126 
 
 A numerous crowd, array'd in white, * 
 Across the green in numbers fly. 
 
 18. 
 
 Loud rings, in air, the chapel bell; 
 
 'Tis hush'd ; What sounds are these I hear ? 
 The organ's soft celestial swell, 
 
 Rolls deeply on the listening ear. 
 
 19. 
 
 To this is join'd the sacred song, 
 
 The royal minstrel's hallowed strain ; 
 
 Though he, who hears the mutiic long, 
 Will never wish to hear again. 
 
 20. 
 
 Our choir would scarcely be excus'd, 
 Even as a band of raw beginners ; 
 
 All mercy, now, must be refus'd, 
 To such a set of croaking sinners. 
 
 * On a Saint Day, the Students wear Surplices, in Chapel. 
 
127 
 
 21. 
 
 If David, when his toils were ended, 
 
 Had heard these blockheads sing before him, 
 
 To us, his psalms had ne'er descended, 
 In furious mood, he would have tore'em. 
 
 22. 
 
 The luckless Israelites, when taken, 
 By some inhuman tyrant's order, 
 
 Were ask'd to sing, by joy forsaken, 
 On Babylonian river's border. 
 
 23. 
 
 Oh ! had they sung in notes like these, 
 
 Inspir'd by stratagem, or fear ; 
 They might have set their hearts at ease, 
 
 The devil a soul had stay'd to hear. 
 
 24. 
 
 But, if I scribble longer now, 
 
 The deuce a soul will stay to read j 
 
 My pen is blunt, my ink is low, 
 'Tis almost time to stop, indeed* 
 
1SS 
 
 25. 
 
 Therefore, farewell, old Granta's spires, 
 No more, like Cleofas, I fly, 
 
 No more thy theme my muse inspires, 
 The reader's tir'd and so am I. 
 
 180C. 
 
129 
 
 LACHIN Y. GAIR. 
 
 Lachi\ y. «air, or as it is pronounced in the Erse, LocH XA 
 Garr, towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern Highlands^ 
 near Invercanld. One of our modern Tourists mentions it as the 
 highest mountain perhaps in Great Britain; be this as it 
 may, it is certainly one of the most sublime, and picturesque, 
 amongst our " Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a dusky 
 hue, but the summit is ihe seat of eternal snows ; near Lachin 
 y. Gair, I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollec* 
 tion of which, has given birth to the following Stanzas.-— 
 
 A. WAY, ye gay landscapes ! ye gardens of roses ! 
 
 In you let the minions of luxury rove ; 
 Restore me the rocks, where the snow-flake reposes, 
 
 Though still they are sacred to freedom and love : 
 Yet, Caledonia ! belov'd are thy mountains, 
 
 Round their white summits though elements war, 
 Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth flowing foua« 
 tains, 
 
 I sigh, fot the valley of dark Loch »a Garr. 
 
130 
 
 Ah ! there my young footsteps, in infancy, wander'd. 
 
 My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid ; * 
 On chieftains, long perish'd, my memory ponder'd, 
 
 As daily I strode through the pine-cover'd glade ; 
 I sought not my home, till the day's dying glory 
 
 Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star ; 
 For Fancy was cheer'd, by traditional story, 
 
 Disclos'd by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. 
 
 66 Shades of the dead ! have I not heard your voicet 
 
 " Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale ? " 
 Surely the soul of the hero rejoices, 
 
 And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale : 
 Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers. 
 
 Winter presides in his cold icy car ; 
 Clouds, there, encircle the forms of my Fathers, 
 
 They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr : 
 
 * This word is erroneously pronounced plad, the proper pro- 
 nounciatiea (according to the Scotch) is shewn by the OrthograpBy. 
 
131 
 
 4. 
 
 & 111 starred, * though brave, did no visions fore- 
 boding, 
 
 u Tell you that Fate had forsaken your cause? " 
 Ah ! were you destin'd to die at Culloden, f 
 
 Victory crown'd not your- fall with applause ; 
 Still were you happy, in death's earthy slumber, 
 
 You rest with your clan, in the caves of Braemar, + 
 The Pibroch || resounds, to the piper's loud number, 
 
 Your deeds, on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr. 
 
 * I allude here to nay maternal ancestors, the •' Gordons," 
 many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, bet- 
 ter known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly 
 allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the Stewarts. George 
 the ?d. Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stewart 
 daughter of James the 1st of Scoland, by her he left four sons • 
 the 3d. Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one 
 of my progenitors. 
 
 + Whether any perished in the Battle of Culloden, I am not 
 certain ; but as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the 
 same of the principal action, " pars pro toto." 
 
 f A Tract of the Highlands so called ; there is also a Castle of 
 3raemar. 
 
 | The Bagpipe. 
 
132 
 
 Years have roll'd on. Loch na Garr, since I left you, 
 
 Years must elapse, e'er I tread you again ; 
 Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you, 
 
 Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain : 
 England ! thy beauties are tame and domestic, 
 
 To one, who has rov'd on the mountains afar ; 
 Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic, 
 
 The steep, frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr- 
 
133 
 
 TO ROMANCE. 
 
 pARENT of golden dreams, Romance, 
 
 Auspicious Queen! of childish joys, 
 Who lead'st along in airy dance, 
 
 Thy votive train of girls and boys ; 
 At length, in spells no longer bound, 
 
 I break the fetters of my youth, 
 No more I tread thy mystic round, 
 
 But leave thy realms for those of Truth, 
 
 2. 
 
 And, yet, 'tis hard to quit the dreams, 
 
 Which haunt the unsuspicious soul, 
 Where every nymph a goddess seems. 
 
 Whose eyes through rays immortal roll; 
 While Fancy holds her boundless reign, 
 
 And all assume a varied hue, 
 When Virgins seem no longer vain, 
 
 And even Woman's smiles are true. 
 
134 
 
 And must we own thee, bat a name, 
 
 And from thy hall of clouds descend ? ~ 
 Nor find a Sylph in every dame, 
 
 A Pylades * in every friend ; 
 But leave, at once, thy realms of air, 
 
 To mingling bands of fairy elves ; 
 Confess that Woman's false as fair, 
 
 And friends have feeling for themselves,, 
 
 4. 
 
 With shame, I own, I've felt thy sway, 
 Repentant, now thy reign is o'er, 
 
 No more thy precepts I obey, 
 
 No more on fancied pinions soar; 
 
 * It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades -was the companion 
 ©f Orestes, and a partner in one of those friendships, which with 
 those of Achilles and Patrochis, Nisus and Euryalus, Damon and 
 Pythias, have been handed down to posterity, as remarkable in- 
 stances of attachments, which in all probability never existed, be- 
 yond the imagination of the. Poet, the page of an ancient historian, 
 *:■ a modern novelist. 
 
135 
 
 ir^ond fool ! to lore a sparkling eye, 
 
 And think, that eye to Truth was dear, 
 
 To trust a passing wanton's sigh, 
 And melt beneath a wanton's tear. 
 
 5. 
 
 Romance ! disgusted with deceit, 
 
 Far from thy motley court I fly ? 
 Where Affectation holds her seat, 
 
 And sickly Sensibility ; 
 Whose silly tears can never flow, 
 
 For any patigs excepting thine, 
 Who turns aside from real woe, 
 
 To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine. 
 
 Now join with sable Sympathy, 
 
 With cypress crown'd, array'd in weed*. 
 Who heaves with thee her simple sigh, 
 
 Whose breast for every bosom bleeds ; 
 And call thy sylvan female quire, 
 
 To mourn a swain forever gone, 
 
136 
 
 Who oHce could glow with equal fire r - 
 But bends not now before thy throne^ 
 
 7. 
 
 Ye genial nymphs ! whose ready tears, 
 
 On all occasions swiftly flow, 
 Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears, 
 
 With fancied flames and phrenzy glow j 
 Say, will you mourn my absent name, 
 
 Apostate from your gentle train ? 
 An infant Bard at least may claim, 
 
 From you a sympathetic strain. 
 
 8. 
 
 Adieu, fond race, a long adieu, 
 
 The hour of fate is hov'ring nigh, 
 Even now the gulph appears in view, 
 
 Where unlamented you must lie ; 
 Oblivion's blackening lake is seen, 
 
 Convuls'd by gales you cannot weather, 
 Where you, and eke your gentle queen, 
 
 Alas ! must perish altogether. 
 
137 
 
 ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.* 
 
 H is the voice of ) ears that are gone ! they roll before me, witft 
 all their deeds. ossian. 
 
 NEWSTEAD! fast falling, once resplendent dome J 
 Religion's shrine ! repentant Henry's + pride ! 
 
 Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloister'd tomb 5 
 Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide, 
 
 Hail ! to thy pile ! more honour'd in thy fall, 
 Than modern mansions, in their pillar'd state J 
 
 Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall, 
 Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate. 
 
 * As one poem, on this subject, is printed in the beginning, the 
 author had, originally, no intention of inserting the following ; it 
 is now added, at the particular request of some friends. 
 
 t Henry II. founded Newstead, so*a after the murder of 
 Thomai a Becket. 
 
 T 
 
138 
 
 So mail-clad Serfs, * obedient to their Lord,. 
 
 In grim array, the crimson cross + demand; 
 Or gay assemble round the festive board, 
 
 Their chief's retainers, an immortal band. 
 
 Jllse might inspiring Fancy's magic eye 
 
 Retrace their progress, through the lapse of time ; 
 Marking each ardent youth, ordain'd to die, 
 
 A votive pilgrim, in Judea's clime. 
 
 But not from thee, dark pile ! departs the- Chief ? 
 
 His feudal realm in other regions lay ; 
 In thee, the wounded conscience courts relief, 
 
 Retiring from the garish blaze of day. 
 
 Yes, in thy gloomy cells and shades profound^ 
 
 The Monk abjur'd a world, he ne'er could view ; 
 Or blood-stained Guilt, repenting solace found^ 
 ' Or Innocence, from stern Oppression, flew. 
 
 * This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, ** The 
 "Wild Huntsman: " synonimous with Vassal. 
 
 + The Ked Cross was the badge of the Crusader*. 
 
ISV 
 
 A Monarch bade thee, from that wild arise, 
 
 Where Sherwood's outlaws, once, were wont'to prowl 
 
 And Superstition's crimes of various dyes. 
 Sought shelter in the Priest's protecting- cowl. 
 
 Where, now, the grass exhales a murky dew s 
 The humid pall of life-extinguish' d clay ; 
 
 In sainted fame, the sacred fathers grew, 
 Nor raised their pious voices but to pray. 
 
 Where, now, the bats their wavering wings extend, 
 Soon as the Gloaming* spreads her waning shade : 
 
 The choir did, oft, their mingling vespers blend, 
 Or matin orisons to Mary + paid. 
 
 Years roll on years ; to ages, ages yield ; 
 
 Abbots to Abbots, in a line succeed ; 
 Religion's charter, their protecting shield, 
 
 Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed. 
 
 * As " Gloaming," the Scottish word for Twilight, is far 
 more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminentliterary 
 men, particularly Dr. Moore, in his Letters to Burns, 1 have ven- 
 tured to use it on account of its harmony. 
 
 -r The Priory was dedicated to the Virgia. 
 
14t 
 
 One holy Henry,* rear'd the gothic wails, 
 And bade the pious inmates rest in peace ; 
 
 Another Henry the kind gift recalls, 
 
 And bids devotion's hallow'd echoes cease. 
 
 Vain is each threat, or supplicating prayer, 
 He drives them, exiles, from their blest abode; 
 
 To roam a dreary world, in deep despair, 
 
 No friend, no home, no refuge, but their God. 
 
 Hark ! how the hall, resounding to the strain, 1 
 Shakes with the martial music's novel din ! 
 
 The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign, 
 High crested banners, wave thy walls within. 
 
 Of changing sentinels, the distant hum, 
 
 The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnish'd arms, 
 
 The braying trumpet, and the hoarser drum, 
 Unite in concert, with increas'd alarms. 
 
 * At the dissolution of the Monasteries, Henry VIII. be- 
 stowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron. 
 
141 
 
 Jin abbey once, a regal fortress * now, 
 
 Encircled by insulting rebel powers ; 
 Wars dread machines o'erhang thy threat'ning brow, 
 
 And dart destruction, in sulphureous showers. 
 
 Ah ! Tain defence! the hostile traitor's siege, 
 
 Though oft repuls'd, by guile o'ercoraes the brave y 
 
 His thronging foes oppress the faithful Liege, 
 Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave. 
 
 ZS r ot iinaveng'd, the raging Baron yields, 
 
 The blood of traitors smears the. purple plain : 
 
 Unconquerd, still, his faulchion there he wields. 
 And days of glory, yet, for him remain. 
 
 Still, in that hour, the warrior wish'd to strew., 
 Self-gather'd laurels, on a self-sought grave ; 
 
 But Charles' protecting genius hither flew, 
 
 The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save. 
 
 * Newstead sustained a considerable siesre, in the war between 
 Charles I. and his Parliament. 
 
142 
 
 Trembling she snatch'd him* from the unequal strife, 
 
 In other fields, the torrent to repel ; 
 For nobler combats, here, reserv'd his life, 
 
 To lead the band, where godUike Falkland + fell. 
 
 From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given, 
 While dying groans, their painful requiem sound, 
 
 Far different incense, now, ascends to heaven,- 
 Such victims wallow on the gory ground. 
 
 There, many a pale and ruthless Robber's corse, 
 Noisome and ghast, defiles thy sacred sod ; 
 
 O'er mingling man, and horse commix'd with horse, 
 Corruption's heap, the savage spoilers trod; 
 
 * Lord Byron, and his brother, Sir William, held high Com- 
 mands in the Royal Army ; the former was General in Chief, in 
 Ireland, Lieutenant of the Tower, and Governor to James, Duke 
 of York ; afterwards, the unhappy James 1 1. The latter had a 
 principal share in many Actions. Vide, Clarendon, Hume, &c. 
 
 t Lucius Gary, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accomplished 
 man of his age, was killed, at the Battle of Newbery, charging 
 in the ranks of Lord Byron's Regiment of Cavalry. 
 
143 
 
 Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread, 
 Ransack'd, resign, perforce, their mortal mould : 
 
 From ruffian fangs, escape not e'en the dead, 
 Rak'd from repose, in search for buried goId > 
 
 Hush'd is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre, 
 The minstrel's palsied hand reclines in death ; 
 
 No more he strikes the quivering chords with fire, 
 Or sings the glories of the martial wreath. 
 
 At length the sated murderers, gorged with prey, 
 Retire, the clamour of the fight is o'er ; 
 
 Silence, again, resumes her awful sway, 
 And sable Horror guards the massy door. 
 
 Here, Desolation holds her dreary court, 
 What satellites declare her dismal reign 1 
 
 Shrieking their dirge, ill omen'd birds resort,. 
 To flit their vigils, in the hoary fane. 
 
 Soon, a new Morn's restoring beams dispel 
 The clouds of Anarchy from Britain's skies ; 
 
141 
 
 The fierce Usurper seeks his native hell, 
 And Nature triumphs, as the Tyrant dies'. 
 
 With storms she welcomes his expiring groans, 
 
 Whirlwinds, responsive, greet his labouring breath * 
 
 Earth shudders, as her caves receive his bones, 
 Loathing* the offering of so dark a death. 
 
 The legal Ruler, + now, resumes the helm, 
 
 He guides thro' gentle seas, the prow of state; 
 Hope cheers, with wonted smiles, the peaceful realm, 
 
 And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied Hate. 
 
 • 
 
 The gloomy tenants, Newstead ! of thy cells, 
 Howling, resign their violated nest ; 
 
 * This is an historical fact f a violent tempest occurred imme- 
 diately subsequent to the death, or interment of Cromwell, which 
 occasioned many disputes between his Parlizans, and the Cavaliers; 
 both interpreted the circumstance into divine interposition, but 
 whether as approbation or condemnation, we leave to the Casuists 
 of that age to decide ; 1 have made such use of the occurrence 
 ns suited the subject of my poem. 
 
 t Charles If. 
 
145 
 
 Again, the Master on his tenure dwells, 
 
 Enjoy'd, from absence, with enraptur'd zest, 
 
 Vassals, within thy hospitable pale, 
 
 Loudly carousing bless their Lord's return ; 
 
 Culture, again, adorns the gladdening rale, 
 And matrons, once lamenting, cease to mourn. 
 
 A thousand songs, on tuneful echo, float, 
 Unwonted foliage mantles o'er the trees ; 
 
 And,- hark ! the horns proclaim a mellow note, 
 The hunter's cry hangs lengthening on the breeze. 
 
 Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake, 
 
 What fears ! what anxious hopes ! attend the chace ! 
 
 The dying stag seeks refuge in the lake, 
 Exulting shouts announce the finished race. 
 
 Ah ! happy days ! too happy to endure ! 
 
 Such simple sports, our plain forefathers knew 5 
 No splendid vices glitter'd t« allure, 
 
 There joys were many, as their cares were few. 
 
148 
 
 From these descending, Sons to Sires succeed, 
 Time steals along, and Death uprears his dart ; 
 
 Another Chief impels the foaming steed, 
 Another Crowd pursue the panting hart. 
 
 Newstead ! what saddening ehange of scene is thine I 
 Thy yawning arch betokens slow decay ; 
 
 The last and youngest of a noble lin£, 
 
 Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway. 
 
 Deserted now, he scans thy grey worn towers ; 
 
 Thy vaults, where dead of feudal ages sleep ; 
 Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers ; 
 
 These, these he views, and views them but to weep. 
 
 Yet are his tears, no emblems of regret, 
 Cherish'd aflfection only bids them flow ; 
 
 Pride, Hope, and Love, forbid him to forget, 
 But warm his bosom, with empassion'd glow. 
 
 Yet, he prefers thee, to the gilded domes, 
 Or gewgaw grottos, of the vainly great ; 
 
147 
 
 Vet, lingers mid thy damp and mossy tombs, 
 Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of fate. 
 
 Haply thy sun, emerging, yet, may shine ? 
 
 Thee to irradiate, w ith meridian ray ; 
 Fortune may smile, upon a future line, 
 
 And heaven restore an ever cloudless day* 
 
148 
 
 CHILDISH RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 I cannot but remember such things were, 
 
 And were most dear to me. macbetku 
 
 WHEN slow Disease with all her host of Pains, 
 Chills the warm tide, which flows along the veins ; 
 When Health affrighted spreads her rosy wing, 
 And flies with every changing gale of spring ; 
 Not to the aching frame alone confiri'd, 
 Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind : 
 What grisly forms, the spectre train of woe ! 
 Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow. 
 With resignation wage relentless strife, 
 While Hope retires appall'd, and clings to life. 
 Yet less the pang, when, through the tedious hour, 
 Remembrance sheds around her genial power, 
 Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given, * 
 Whan Love was bliss, and Beauty form'd our heaven; 
 
149 
 
 Or dear to youth, pourtrays each childish scene, 
 
 Those fairy bowers, where all in turn hare been. 
 
 As when, through clouds that pour the summer storm ? 
 
 The orb of day unveils his distant form, 
 
 Gilds with faint beams the chrys-'al dews of rain, 
 
 And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain; c 2d 
 
 Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams, 
 
 The Sun of Memory, glowing through my dreams, 
 
 Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze, 
 
 To scenes far distant points his paler rays, 
 
 Still rules my senses with unbounded sway, 
 
 The past confounding with the present day. 
 
 Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought, 
 Which still recurs, unlook'd for, and unsought ; 
 My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields, 
 And roams romantic o'er her airy fields ; 
 Scenes of my youth, develop'd, croud to view, 
 To which I long have bade a last adieu ! 
 Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes ; 
 Friends lost to me, for aye, except in dreams^ 
 Some, who in marble prematurely sleep, 
 "Whose forms I now remember^ but to weep ; 
 
150 
 
 Same, who yet urge the same scholastic course 
 
 Of early science, future fame the source : 
 
 Who, still contending in the studious race, 
 
 In quick rotation, fill the senior place ! 40 
 
 These, with a thousand visions, now unite; 
 
 To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight. 
 
 Ida ! blest spot, where Science holds her reign, 
 How joyous, once, I joiu'd thy youthful train; 
 Bright, in idea, gleams thy lofty spire, 
 Again, I mingle with thy p'ayful quire ; 
 Our tricks of mischief, every childish game, 
 Unchang'd by time or distance, seem the same ; 
 Through winding paths, along the glade J trace. 
 The social smile of ev'ry welcome face, 
 My wonted haunts, my scenes of joy or woe, 
 Each early boyish friend, or youthful foe, 
 Our feuds dissolv'd, but not my friendship past, 
 I bless the former, and forgive the last. 
 Hours of my youth, when nurtur'd in my breast, 
 To Love a stranger, Friendship made me blest; 
 Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth, 
 When every artless bosom throbs with truth ; 
 
IN 
 
 ^ 
 
 * ^r 
 
 
 \5. 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 * 
 
151 
 
 Untaught by worldly wisdom how to feign, 
 And check each impulse with prudential rein ; 60 
 
 When, all we feel, our honest souls disclose, 
 In love to friends, in open hate to foes ; 
 No varnish'd tales the lips of youth repeat, 
 No dear bought knowledge purchas'd by deceit; 
 Hypocrisy, the gift of lengthen'd years, 
 Matur'd by age, the garb of Prudence wears ; 
 When, now, the Boy is ripen'd into Man, 
 Ills careful Sire chalks forth some wary plan; 
 Instructs his Son from Candour's path to shrink, 
 Smoothly to speak, and cautiously to think ; 
 Still to assent, and never to deny, 
 A patron's praise can well reward the lie ; 
 And who, when Fortune's warning voice is hoard- 
 Would lose his opening prospects for a word? 
 Although, against that word, his heart rebel, 
 AnJ Truth, indignant, all his bosom swell. 
 
 Away with themes like this, not mine the task, 
 From flattering fiends to tear the hateful mask ; 
 Let keener bards delight in Satire's sting, 
 My Fancy soars aot on .Detraction's wing ; 80 
 
152 
 
 Once, and but once, she aim'd a deadly blovr r 
 
 To hurl Defiance on a secret Foe ; 
 
 But, when that Foe, from feeling cr from sham<*, 
 
 The cause unknown, yet still to me the same, 
 
 Warn'd by some friendly hint, perchance, retir'd^ 
 
 With this submission, all her rage expir'd. 
 
 From dreaded pangs that feeble Foe to save, 
 
 She hush'd her young resentment, and forgave % 
 
 Or, if my Muse a Pedant's portrait drew, 
 
 Pomposus' virtues are but known to few ; 
 
 I never fear'd the young usurper's nod, 
 
 And he who wields, must, sometimes, feel the rod. 
 
 If since, on Granta's failings, known to all, 
 
 Who share the converse of a college hall, 
 
 She sometimes trifled in a lighter strain, 
 
 *Tis past, and thus she will not sin again. 
 
 Soon must her early song forever cease, 
 
 And, all may rail, when I shall rest in peace. 
 
 Here, first remembered be the joyous band, 
 Who haiPd me chief, obedient to command ; 100 
 
 Who join'd with me, in every boyish sport, 
 Their first adviser, and their last resort. 
 
153 
 
 Nor shrunk before the upstart pedant's frown, 
 
 Or all the sable glories of his gown; 
 
 Who, thus transplanted from his father's school, 
 
 Unfit to govern, ignorant of rule, 
 
 Succeeded him, whom all unite to praise, 
 
 The dear preceptor of my early days ; 
 
 Pro-bus,* the pride of science, and the boast, 
 
 To Ida, now, alas ! for ever lost. 
 
 AVith him, for years, we search'd the classic page, 
 
 And fear'd the Master, though we lov'd the Sage ; 
 
 Retir'd at last, his small, yet peaceful seat, 
 
 From learning's labour is the blest retreat. 
 
 Pomposus fills his magisterial chair; 
 
 Pomposus governs, — but my Muse forbear : 
 
 c ■ a 
 
 * This most able, and excellent man retired from his situation 
 in March 1805, after having resided 35 years at H. — the last 20 
 as Head Mas' er ; an office he held with equal honour to himself, 
 and advantage to the verj extensive School, over which he pre- 
 sided ; panegyric would here be superfluous, it would be useless to 
 enumerate qualifications which were never doubted ; a consider- 
 able contest took place between 3 rival candidates for his vacant 
 Chair, of this I can only say 
 
 ". Si mea, cum vestris valuissent Vota, Pelasgi ! 
 " Nor foret ambiguus tanti certaminis Hserea. 
 x 
 
154 
 
 Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot, 
 
 His name and precepts be alike forgot ; 
 
 No more his mention shall my verse degrade. 
 
 To him my tribute is already paid. * 12© 
 
 High, thro' those elms with hoary branches crown'd, 
 Fair Ida's bower adorns the landscape round ; 
 There Science from her favour' d seat surveys 
 The vale, where rural Nature claims her praise ; 
 To her awhile resigns her youthful train, 
 Who move in joy, and dance along the plain, 
 In scatter'd groupes each favoured haunt pursue^ 
 Repeat old pastimes, and discover new ; 
 
 * This alludes to a character printed in a former private edition 
 for the perusal of some friends, which with many other pieces is 
 withheld from the present volume;, to draw the attention of the 
 public to insignificance would be deservedly reprobated, and ano- 
 ther reason, though not of equal consequence, maybe given in the 
 following couplet : — 
 
 *' Satire or sense, alas ! can Sporus feel ? 
 
 '• Who breaks a Butterfly upon the wheel ? 
 
 Prologue to the Satire*. 
 
 Pops* 
 
155 
 
 Flush'd with his rays, beneath the noon-tide Sue, 
 
 In rival bands, between the wickets run, 
 
 Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force, 
 
 Or chace with nimble feet its rapid course. 
 
 But these with slower steps direct their way, 
 
 Where Brent's cool waves in limpid currents stray; 
 
 While yonder few search out some green retreat, 
 
 And arbours shade them from the summer heat : 
 
 Others, again,, a pert, and lively crew, 
 
 Some rough, and thoughtless stranger plac'd in view, 
 
 With frolic quaint, their antic jests expose 
 
 And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes ; 140 
 
 Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray, 
 
 Tradition treasures for a future day ; 
 
 " 'Twas here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought, 
 
 " And here we earn'd the conquest dearly bought, 
 
 " Here have we fled before superior might, 
 
 (i And here renew'd the wild tumultuous fight." 
 
 While thus our souls with early passions swell, 
 
 In lingering tones resounds the distant bell; 
 
 Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er, 
 
 And Learning beckons from her temple's door, 
 
156 
 
 No splendid tablets grace her simple hall, 
 
 But ruder records fill the dusky wall ; 
 
 There, deeply carv'd, behold ! each Tyro's name 
 
 Secures its owner's academic fame ; 
 
 Here, mingling view the names of Sire and Son, 
 
 The one long grav'd, the other just begun, 
 
 These shall survive alike when Son and Sire, 
 Beneath one common stroke of fate expire, 
 Perhaps, their last memorial these alone, 
 Denied, in Death, a monumental stone, 160 
 
 Whilst to the gale, in mournful cadence wave, 
 The sighing weeds, that hide their nameless grave. 
 And, here, my name and many au early friend's 
 Along the wall in lengthened line extends, 
 Though, still, our deeds amuse the youthful race, 
 "Who tread our steps, and fill our former place, 
 "Who young obeyed their lords in silent awe. 
 Whose nod commanded, and whose voice was law ' 
 And now, in turn, possess the reins of power, 
 To rule the little Tyrants of an hour ; 
 Though sometimes, with the Tales of aucient day, 
 They pass the dreary Winter's eve away : 
 
157 
 
 r ' c And, thus, our former rulers stemm'd the tide, 
 iC And, thus, they dealt the combat, side by side; 
 (i Just in this place, the mouldering walls they scaled, 
 *' Nor bolts, nor bars, against their strength availed; 
 " Here, Probus came, the rising fray to quell, 
 " And, here, he faultered forth his last farewell, 
 u And, here, one night, abroad they dared to roam, 
 ii While bold Pomposus bravely staid at home. " 18Q 
 While thus they speak, the hour must soon arrive, 
 When names of these, like ours, alone survive; 
 Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelni 
 The faint remembrance of our fairy realm. 
 
 Dear honest race, though now we meet no more, 
 One last, long look on what we were before ; 
 Our first kind greetings, and our last adieu ! 
 Drew tears from eyes unus'd to weep with you ; 
 Through splendid circles, Fashion's gaudy world, 
 Where Folly's glaring standard waves unfurl' d, 
 I plung'd to drown in noise my fond regret, 
 And all I sought or hop'd, was to forget : 
 Vain wish ! if, chance, some well remember'd face, 
 {Some old companion of my early race 5 
 
158 
 
 Advanc'd to claim his friend with honest joy, 
 
 My eyes, my heart proclaim'd me still a boy ; 
 
 The glittering scene, the fluttering groupes around, 
 
 Were quite forgotten, when my friend was found ; 
 
 The smiles of Beauty, (for, alas ! I've known 
 
 What 'tis to bend before Love's mighty throne ;) 200 
 
 The smiles of Beauty, though those smiles were dear, 
 
 Could hardly charm me, when that friend was near j 
 
 My thoughts bewilder'd in the fond surprise, 
 
 The woods of Ida dane'd before my eyes ; 
 
 I ?aw the sprightly waud'rers pour along, 
 
 I saw, and join'd again the joyous throng; 
 
 panting again, I trae'd her lofty grove, 
 
 And Friendship's feelings triuraph'd over Love, 
 
 Yet, why should I alone with such delight, 
 Retrace the circuit of ray -former flight ? 
 Is there no cause beyond the common claim, 
 Eudear'd to all in childhood's very name ? 
 Ah ! sure some stronger impulse vibrates here, 
 Which whispers friendship will be doubly, dear 
 To one, who thus for kindred hearts must roam, 
 Aud seek abroad, the love denied at home : 
 
159 
 
 Those hearts, dear Ida, have I found in thee, 
 
 A home, a world, a paradise to me. 
 
 Stern Death, forbade my orphan youth to share, 
 
 The tender guidance of a Father's care ; 220 
 
 Can Rank, or ev'n a Guardian's name supply, 
 
 The Love, which glistens in a Father's eye ? 
 
 For this, can Wealth, or Title's sound atone, 
 
 Made, by a Parent's early loss, my own ? 
 
 What Brother springs a Brother's love to seek ? 
 
 What Sister's gentle kiss has prest my cheek ? « 
 
 For me, how dull the vacant moments rise, 
 
 To no fond bosom link'd by kindred ties ; 
 
 Oft, in the progress. of some fleeting dream, 
 
 Fraternal smiles, collected round me seem, 
 
 While still the visions to my heart arc prest, 
 
 The voice of Love will murmur in my rest; 
 
 I hear, I wake, and in the sound rejoice, 
 
 I hear again, — but ah ! no Brother's voice. 
 
 A Hermit, midst of crowds, I fain must stray 
 
 Alone, though thousand pilgrims fill the way ; 
 
 While these a thousand kindred wreaths entwine, 
 
 I cannot call one single blossom mine : 
 
160 
 
 What then remains ? in solitude to groan, 
 
 To mix in friendship, or to sigh alone ? 240 
 
 Thus, must I cling to some endearing hand, 
 
 And none more dear, than Ida's social hand. 
 
 Alonzo ! best and dearest of my friends, 
 Thy name ennobles liim, wh o thus commends ; 
 From this fond tribute, thou can'st gain no praise r 
 The praise is his, who now that tribute pays. 
 Oh ! in the promise of thy early youth, 
 If hope anticipate the words of truth • 
 Some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name, 
 To build his own, upon thy deathless fame. 
 Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list 
 Of those, with whom I liv'd supremely blest; 
 Oft have we drain'd the font of antient lore, 
 Though, drinking deeply, thirsting still the more* 
 Yet, when confinement's lingering hour was done, 
 Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one ' t 
 Together we impell'd the flying ball, 
 Together waited in our tutor's hall ; 
 Together join'd in cricket's manly toil, 
 Or shar'd the produce of the river's spoil ; 260" 
 
161 
 
 Or, plunging from the green, declining shore, 
 Our pliant limbs the buoyant waters bore ; 
 In every element, unchang'd, the same, 
 All, all, that brothers should be, but the name. 
 
 Nor, yet, are you forgot, my jocund Boy ! 
 Davus, the harbinger of childish joy; 
 For ever foremost in the ranks of fun, 
 The laughing herald of the harmless pun ; 
 Yet, with a breast, of such materials made, 
 Anxious to please, of pleasing half afraid ; 
 Candid and liberal, with a heart of steel 
 In danger's path, though not untaught to feel. 
 Still, I remember, ra the factious strife, 
 The rustic's musket aim'd against my life ; 
 High pois'd in air, the massy weapon hung, 
 A cry of horror burst from every tongue ; 
 Whilst I, in combat with another foe, 
 Fought on, unconcious of th' impending blow ; 
 Your arm, brave Boy, arrested his career, 
 Forward you sprung, insensible to fear j 28$ 
 
Eiisarm'd, and baffled, by your conquering hand^ 
 The groveling Savage roll'd upon the sand; 
 An act, like this, can simple thanks repay ?' 
 Or all the labours of a grateful lay ? 
 Gh ! no ! whene'er my breast forgets the deed ? 
 That instant, DAvus, it deserves to bleed. 
 
 Ltcus ! on me, thy claims are justly great ? 
 Thy milder virtues could my Muse relate, 
 To thee, alone, unrivall'd, would belong,. 
 The feeble eiforts of my lengthen'd song. 
 Well canst thou boast, to lead in senates fit, 
 A Spartan firmness, with Athenian wit ; 
 Tho' jet, in embryo, these perfections shine^ 
 Lycus ! thy father's fame, will soon be thine. 
 Where Learning nurtures the superior mind, 
 What may we hope, from genius thus refin'd ! 
 When Time, at length, matures thy growing yearSy 
 How wilt thou tower, above thy fellow peers ! 
 Prudence and sense, a spirit bold and free, 
 With honour's soul, united, beam in thee. 30fr 
 
 Shall fair Euryalus, pass by unsung ? 
 From ancient lineage, not unworthy, sprung: 
 
163 
 
 What, though one sad dissention bade us part, 
 
 That name is yet embalm'd, within my heart ; 
 
 Yet, at the mention, does that heart rebound, 
 
 And palpitate, responsive to the sound : 
 
 Envy dissolv'd our ties, and not our will, , 
 
 We once were friends, — I'll think, we are so still. 
 
 A form unmatch'd, in Natures partial mould, 
 
 A heart untainted, we, in thee, behold ; 
 
 Yet, not the Senate's thunder thou shalt wield, 
 
 Nor seek for glory, in the touted field; 
 
 To minds of ruder texture, these be given, 
 
 Thy soul shall nearer soar its native heaven. 
 
 Haply, in polish'd courts, might be thy seat, 
 
 But, that thy tongue could never forge deceit; 
 
 The courtier's supple bow, and sneering smile, 
 
 The flow of compliment, the slippery. wile, 
 
 Would make that breast, with indignation, burn, 
 
 And, all the glittering snares, to tempt thee, spurn. 320 
 
 Domestic happiness, will stamp thy fate; 
 
 Sacred to Love, unclouded e'er by hate ; 
 
 The world admire thee, and thy friends adore, 
 
 Ambition's Slave, alone, would toil for more, 
 
164 
 
 Now last, but nearest, of the social band, 
 See, honest, open, generous Cleon stand ; 
 With scarce one speck, to cloud the pleasing scene^, 
 No vice degrades that purest soul serene. 
 On the same day, our studious race begun, 
 On the same day, our studious race was run ; 
 Thus, side by side, we pass'd our first career, 
 Thus, side by side, we strove for many a year, 
 At last, concluded our scholastic life, 
 "We neither conquer'd in the classic strife : 
 As Speakers, * each supports an equal name p 
 And crouds allow to both a partial fame ; 
 To soothe a youthful Rival's early pride, 
 Though Cleon's candour would the palm divide ; 
 Yet Candour's self compels me now to own, 
 Justice awards it to my Friend alone. 340 
 
 Oh ! Friends regretted, Scenes for ever dear, 
 Remembrance hails you, with her warmest tear ! 
 
 * This alludes to the public speeches, delivered at the school 
 ■where the author was educated. 
 
165 
 
 Drooping, she. bends, o'er pensive Fancy's urn. 
 
 To trace the hours, which never can return, 
 
 Yet, with the retrospection loves to dwell, . 
 
 And soothe the sorrows of her last farewell ! 
 
 Yet, greets the triumph, of my boyish mind, 
 
 As infant laurels round my head were twin'dg 
 
 When Probus' praise repaid my lyric song, 
 
 Or plac'd me higher in the studious throng ; 
 
 Or, when my first harangue receiv'd applause, 
 
 His sage instruction the primoeval cause, 
 
 What gratitude, to him, my soul possest, 
 
 While hope of dawning honours fill'd my breast. 
 
 For all my humble fame, to him alone, 
 
 The praise is due, who made that fame my own. 
 
 Oh ! could I soar above these feeble lays, 
 
 These young effusions of my early days, 
 
 To him my Muse her noblest strain would give, 
 
 The song might perish, but the theme must live ; 360 
 
 Yet, why for him the needless verse essay ? 
 
 His honour'd name requires no vain display ; 
 
 By every son of grateful Jda blest, 
 
 It finds an echo in each youthful breast j 
 
16S 
 
 IK. fame beyond the glories of the proud, 
 "Or all the plaudits of the venal crowd. 
 
 Ida, not jet e:ihausted is the theme, 
 Nor clos'd the progress of my youthful dream ; 
 How many a friend deserves the grateful strain i 
 What scenes of childhood still unsung remain ! 
 JYet let me hush this echo of the past, 
 This parting song, the dearest and the last ; 
 And brood in secret o'er those hours of joy, 
 To me a silent, and a sweet employ, 
 While future hope and fear alike unknown, 
 I think with pleasure on the past alone ; 
 Yes, to the past alone, my heart confine, 
 And chase the phantom of what once was mine. 
 
 Ida ! still o'er thy hills in joy preside, 
 ■And proudly steer through time's eventful tide ; 380 
 .'Still, may thy blooming Sons thy name revere, 
 -Smile in thy bower, but quit thee with a tear ; 
 *That tear, perhaps, the fondest which will flow, 
 O'er their last scene of happiness below : 
 Tell me, ye hoary few, who^lide along, 
 The feeble Veterans of some former throng ; 
 
167 
 
 Whose friends, like Autumn leaves by tempests tvliirl' J,. 
 Are swept forever from this busy world ; 
 Revolve the fleeting moments of your youth, 
 While Care as yet withheld her venom'd tooth ; 
 Say, if Remembrance days like these endears. 
 Beyond the rapture of succeeding years ? 
 Say, can Ambition's fever'd dream bestow 
 So sweet a balm, to soothe your hours of woe ? 
 Can Treasures, hoarded for some thankless Son, 
 Can Royal Smiles, or Wreaths by slaughter won. 
 Can Stars, or Ermine, Man's maturer Toys, 
 (For glittering baubles are not left to Boys,) 
 Recall one scene, so much beloVd, to view, 
 As those, where Youth her garland twin'd for you ? 40Cfc 
 Ah, no! amidst the gloomy calm of age, 
 You turn with faultering hand life's varied page. 
 Peruse the record, of your days on earth, 
 Unsullied only, where it marks your birth ; 
 Stilt, iing'ring, pause above each chequer'd leaf, 
 And blot with Tears the sable lines of grief ; 
 Where Passion o'er th^heme her mantle threw. 
 igM 
 
 Or weeping Virtue sigw a. faint adieu ; 
 
168 
 
 But bless the scroll which fairer words adore, 
 Trac'd by the rosy finger of the Morn ; 
 When Friendship bow'd before the shrine of Truth, 
 And Love,* without his pinion, smil'd on Youth. 
 
 * " L'Amitie est L'Araour sans Ailes, " is a French proverb. 
 
169 
 
 TOE DEATH OF CALMAR AND ORLA> 
 
 AN IMITATION OP 
 
 MACPHERSON's OSSIAN, * 
 
 D EAR are the days of youth ! Age dwells on their 
 remembrance through the mist of time. In the twi- 
 light he recalls the sunny hours of morn. He lifts 
 his spear with trembling hand. " Not thus feebly 
 did I raise the steel before my fathers ! '* Past is the 
 race of heroes I but their fame rises on the harp 3 
 their souls ride on the wings of the wind ! they hear 
 the sound through the sighs of the storm ; and re* 
 
 * It may be necessary to observe that the story, though consi- 
 derably varied in (he Catastrophe, is taken from " Nisns and 
 Euryalus, " of which Ep^pe, a Translation is already given m 
 the present volume. 
 
170 
 
 joice in *heir hall of clouds ! Such is Calmar. Tfie 
 grey stone marks his narrow house. He looks down 
 from eddying tempests ; he rolls his form in the 
 whirlwind ; and hovers on the blast of the mountain. 
 
 In Monen dwelt the chief. Abeam of war to 
 Fingal. His steps in the field were marked in blood; 
 Lochlin's sons had fled before his angry spear ! but 
 mild was the eye of Calmar ; soft was the flow of 
 his yellow locks ; they streamed like the meteor of 
 the night. No maid was the sigh of his soul ; his 
 thoughts were given to friendship ! to dark-hair'd 
 Orla ; destroyer of heroes ! Equal were their swords 
 in battle : but fierce was the pride of Orla ! gentl© 
 alone to Calmar. Together they dwelt in the cave 
 of Oithona. 
 
 From Lochlin, Swaran bounded o'er the blue 
 waves. Erin's sons fell beneath his might. Fingal 
 roused his chiefs to combat. Their ships cover the. 
 ocean ! Their hosts throng on the green hills. They 
 4ome to the aid of Erin. 
 
171 
 
 Night rose in clouds. Darkness veils the armies. 
 But the blaziug oaks gleam through the valley. The 
 sons of Lochlin slept : their dreams were of blood. 
 They lift the spear in thought, and Fingal Hies. .Not 
 so the Host of Morven. To watch was the post of 
 Orla. Calmar stood by his side. Their spears were 
 in their hands. Fingal called his chiefs : they stood 
 around. The king was in the midst. Grey were 
 his locks, but strong was the arm of the king. Age 
 withered not his powers. " Sons of Morven " said 
 the hero, " to-morrow we meet the foe ; but where is 
 Cuthullin, the shield of Erin ? He rests in the halls 
 of Tura ; he knows not of our coming. Who will 
 speed through Lochlin to the hero ? And call the 
 chief to arms. The path is by the swords of foes, 
 but many are my heroes. They are thunderbolts of 
 war ! Speak ye chiefs, Who will arise ? " 
 
 " Sou of Trenmor ! mine be the deed," said dark- 
 haired Orla, " and mine alone. What is death to 
 me ? I love the sleep of the mighty, but little is the 
 danger. The sons of L^ochlin dream. I will seek 
 xar-borne Cuthullin. If I fall, raise the song of 
 
172 
 
 )bards ; and lay me by the stream of Lubar."— " And 
 shalt thou fall alone ? " said fair-haired Calma*. 
 " Wilt thou leave thy friend afar? Chief of Oithona J 
 not feeble is my arm in fight. Could I see thee die, 
 and not lift the spear ? No, Orla ! ours has been the 
 chase of the roebuck, and the feast cf shells ; ours ■ 
 be the path of danger ; ours has been the cave of 
 Oithona; ours be the narrow dwelling on the banks 
 of Lubar." " Calmar ! " said the chief of Oithona, 
 M Why should thy yellow locks be darkened in the 
 dust of Erin ? Let me fall alone. My father dwells 
 in his hall of air : he will rejoice in his boy : but 
 the blue-eyed Mora spreads the feast for her son in 
 Morven. She listens to the steps of the hunter on 
 the heath, and thinks it is the tread of Calmar. Let 
 him not say, " Calmar has fallen by the steel of 
 Lochlin ! he died with gloomy Orla; the chief of the 
 dark brow." Why should tears dim the azure eye 
 of Mora? Why should her voice curse Orla, the 
 destroyer of Calmar ? Live Calmar. Live to raise 
 my stone of moss ; live to revenge me in the blood 
 of Lochlin. Join the song' of bards above my 
 
173 
 
 grave. Sweet will be the song of Death to Orta,. 
 from the yoice of Calmar. My ghost ihall smile ou 
 the notes of Praise." " Cria !" said the son of 
 Mora, " could I raise the song of death, to my 
 friend ? Could 1 give his fame to the winds ? No, 
 my heart Mould speak in sighs ; faint and broken 
 are the sounds of sorrow. Orla ! our souls shall 
 hear the song together. One cloud shall be ours on 
 high • the bards will mingle the names of Orla and 
 Calmar." 
 
 They quit the circle of the chiefs. Their steps 
 ire to the Host of Lochlin. The dying blaze of oak 
 dim-twinkles through the night. The northern star 
 points the path to Tura. Swaran, the king, rests on 
 his lonely hill. Here the troops are mixed : they 
 frown in sleep. Their shields beneath their hea's. 
 Ti:cir swords gleam, at distance, in heaps. The fires 
 are faint ; their embers fail in smoke. All is hushed ; 
 but the gale sighs on the rocks above. Lightly wheel 
 the heroes through the slumbering band. Half the 
 journey is past, when Mathon, resting en his shicUi, 
 
174 
 
 meets the eye of Orla. It rolls in flame, and glistens 
 through the shade : his spear is raised on high. 
 l.\ Why dost thou bend thy brow, chief of Oithona ? Y 
 said fair-haired Calmar, u , we are in the midst of 
 foes. Is this a time for delay ? " " It is a time for 
 vengeance," said Orla of the gloomy brow. " Ma- 
 than of Lochliu sleeps: seest thou his spear ? Its 
 point is dim with the gore of my father. The blood 
 of Mathon shall reek on mine ; but shall I slay him 
 •sleeping, Son of Mora ? No : he shall feel his wound; 
 my fame shall not soar on the blood, of slumber: 
 rise, Mathon, rise ! The son of Connal calls, thy 
 life is his ; rise to combat." Mathon starts from 
 feloep, but did he rise alone? No: the gathering 
 chiefs bound on the plain. " Fly, Calmar, fly, v 
 said dark-hair'd Orla, "Mathon is mine ; I shall 
 die in joy, but Lachlin crowds around ; fly through 
 th.d shade of night." Orla turns, the helm of Ma- 
 thon is cleft ; his shield falls from his arm: he shud- 
 ders in his blood. lie rolls by the side of the blaz- 
 ing oak. Strumon sees him fall : his wrath rises; 
 kin weapon glitters on the head of Orla; but a spear 
 
175 
 
 pierced his eye. His brain gushes through the 
 wound, and foams on the spear of Calmar. As roll 
 the waves of Ocean, on two mighty barks of the 
 North, so pour the men of Lochlin on the chiefs. 
 As breaking the surge in foam, proudly steer the- 
 barks of the North, so rise the Chiefs of Morven ? 
 on the scattered crests of Lochlin. The din of arms 
 came to the ear of Fingal. He strikes his shield : 
 his sons throng around ; the people pour along the 
 heath. Ryno, bounds in joy. Ossian, stalks in 
 his arms. Oscar, shakes the spear. The eagle 
 wing of Fillan floats on the wind. Dreadful in the 
 elang of death ! many are the widows of Lochlin. 
 Morven prevails in its strength. 
 
 Morn glimmers on the hills : no living foe is seen ; 
 but the sleepers are many ; grim they lie on Erin. 
 The breeze of ocean lifts their locks ; yet they do 
 not awake. The hawks scream above their prey. 
 
 Whose yellow locks wave o'er the breast of a 
 <?hief? bright as the gold of the stranger, they 
 
176 
 
 »ingle with the dark hair of his friend. < c Tis CaU 
 mar, he lies on the bosom of Orla. Theirs is one 
 stream of blood. Fierce is the look of the gloomy 
 Orla. He breathes not; but his eye is still a flame. 
 It glares in death unclosed. His hand is grasped in 
 Calmar's ; but Calmar lives 1 he lives, though low. 
 i: Rise," said the king, "rise, Son of Mora ; 'Tis 
 mine to heal the wounds of heroes. Calmar may yet 
 bound on the mountains of Morven." 
 
 u Never more shall Calmar chase the deer of Mor. 
 ten with Orla," said the hero, u -what were the 
 chase to me alone ? Who would share the spoils of 
 battle with Calmar? Orla is at rest', rough was thy 
 soul, Orla ! yet soft to me as the dew of morn. It 
 glared on others, in lightning : to me a silver beam 
 of night. Bear my sword to blue-eyed Mora ; let 
 it hang in my empty hall. It is not pure from blood ; 
 but it could not save Orla. Lay me with my friend: 
 raise the song when I am dark." 
 
 They are laid by the stream of Lubar. Four gvejF 
 stones mark the dwelling of O.laand Calmar. 
 
177 
 
 When S -.varan was bound, our sails rose on tli© 
 blue waves. The winds gave our barks to Morveu. 
 The bards raised the song. 
 
 Ci What form rises on the roar of clouds, whose 
 dark ghost gleams on the red stream of tempests ? his 
 voice rolls on the thunder; 'tis Orla. The brown 
 chief of Oithona. He was unmatched in war. Peace 
 to thy soul, Orla ! thy fame will not perish. Nor 
 thine, Calmar ! Lovely wast thou, Son of blue-eyed 
 Mora; but not harmless was thy sword. It hangs 
 in thy cave. The ghosts of Lochlin shriek around 
 its steel. Hear thy praise, Calmar ! It dwells oil 
 the voice of the mighty. Thy name shakes on the 
 echoes of Morven. Then raise thy fair locks, son 
 of Mora. Spread them on the arch of the rainbow ; 
 and smile through the tears of the storm. 
 
 I fear, Laing*s late Edition has completely overthrown every 
 hope that Macpherion's Ossian, might prove the Translation of a 
 series of Poems complete in themselves ; but, while the Imposture 
 is discovered, the merit of the work remains undisputed, though 
 not without faul'.s, particularly in some parts, turgid and bombas- 
 tic diction. — The present humble imitation, will be pardoned by 
 the admirers of the original, as an attempt, however inferior, 
 which evinces an attachment to their favourite Author. 
 a a 
 
178 
 
 to E. N. L. Esq. 
 
 Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico. 
 
 Hor. E. 
 
 JjEAR L— — , in this sequester' d scene, 
 
 While all around in slumber lie, 
 The joyous days, which ours have been, 
 
 Come rolling fresh on fancy's eye : 
 Thus, if amidst the gathering storm, 
 While clouds the darken'd noon deform. 
 Yon heaven assumes a varied glow, 
 I hail the sky's celestial bow ; 
 Which spreads the sign of future peace, 
 And bids the war of tempests cease. 
 
179 
 
 Ah ! though the present brings but pain, 
 I think those days may come again ; 
 Or if, in melancholy mood, 
 Some lurking envious fear intrude ; 
 To check my bosom's fondest thought, 
 
 And interrupt the golden dream ; 
 I crush the fiend with malice fraught, 
 
 And still indulge my wonted theme ; 
 Although we ne'er again can trace 
 
 In Granta's vale, the pedant's lore, 
 Nor through the groves of Ida chase 
 
 Our raptur'd visions as before j 
 Though Youth has flown on rosy pinion, 
 And Manhood claims his stern dominion, 
 Age will not every hope destroy, 
 But yield some hours of sober joy. 
 
 Yes, I will hope that Time's broad wing, 
 Will shed around some dews of spring ; 
 But if his scythe must sweep the flowers, 
 Which bloom among the fairy bowers, 
 Where smiling You»h delights to dwell, 
 And hearts with early rapture swell; 
 
180 
 
 If frowning Age with cold controui, 
 
 Confines the current of the soul, 
 
 Congeals the tear of Pity's eye, 
 
 Or checks the sympathetic sigh, 
 
 Or hears unmoved Misfortune's groan, 
 
 And bids me feel for self alone ; 
 
 Oh ! may my bosom never learn, 
 
 To soothe its wonted heedless flow, 
 Still, still, despise the censor stern, 
 
 But ne'er forget another's woe ; 
 Yes, as you knew me in the days, 
 O'er which Remembrance jet delays, 
 Still may I rove untutor'd, wild, 
 And ev'n in age, at heart a child. 
 
 Though, now, on airy visions borne, 
 
 To you my soul is still the same, 
 Oft has it been my fate to mourn, 
 
 And all my former joys are tame ; 
 But, heuce ! ye hours of sable hue, 
 
 Your frowns are gone, my sorrow's o'er., 
 By every bliss my childhood knew, 
 
 I'll think upon your shade no more : 
 
1S1 
 
 Thus when the whirlwind's rage is pasi\ 
 And caves their sullen roar enclose^ 
 
 We heed no more the win Pry blast, 
 When lull'd by zephyr to repose 
 
 Full often has my infant Muse, 
 
 Attun'd to lore, her languid lyre, 
 But, now, without a theme to chuse, 
 
 The strains in stolen sighs expire : 
 My youthful nymphs, alas ! are flown, 
 
 E is a wife, and C a mother, 
 
 And Carolina sighs alone, 
 
 And Mary's given to another ; 
 And Cora's eye, which roll'd on me, 
 
 Can now no more my love recal, 
 In truth, dear L , 'twas time to flee. 
 
 For Cora's eye will shine on all. 
 And though the Sun with genial rays, 
 His beams alike to all displays, 
 And every lady's eye's a sun y 
 These last should be confin'd to one ; 
 The soul's meridian don't become her. 
 Whose Sun displays a general summer* 
 
182 
 
 T'ius faint is every former flame, 
 And Passion's self is now a name ; 
 As when the ebbing flames are low, 
 
 The ail which once i nprov'd their light, 
 And bade them burn with fiercer glow, 
 
 Now quenches all their sparks in night; 
 Thus has it been with Passion's fires, 
 
 As many a boy, and girl, remembers. 
 While all the force of love expires, 
 
 Extinguish'd with the dying embers. 
 
 But, now, dear L ■, 'tis midnight's noon, 
 
 And clouds obscure the watery moon. 
 Whose beauties I shall not rehearse, 
 Describ'din every stripling's verse; 
 For why should I the path go o'er, 
 Which every bard has trod before ? 
 Yet, ere yon silver lamp of night, 
 
 Has thrice perform'd her stated round. 
 Has thrice retrac'd her path of light, 
 
 And cha^'d away the gloom profound^ 
 I trust, that we, my gentle Friend, 
 £hall see her roiling orbit wend, 
 
183 
 
 Abore the dear loy'd peaceful seat, 
 Which once contain'd our youths' retreat, 
 And, then, with those our childhood knew^ 
 We'll mingle in the festive crew ; 
 While many a tale of former day, 
 Shall wing the laughing hours away # 
 And all the flow of soul shall pour, 
 The sacred intellectual shower, 
 Nor cease till Luua's waning horn, 
 Scarce glimmers through the mist of Morn, 
 
184 
 
 TO 
 
 OH ! had my Fate been join'd with thine^ 
 As once this pledge appear'd a token ; 
 
 These follies had not, then, been mine, 
 
 For, then, my peace had not been broken* 
 
 2. 
 
 To thee, these early faults I owe, 
 To thee, the wise and old reproving ; 
 
 They know my sins, but do not know, 
 'Twas thine to break the bonds of loving.' 
 
 For, once, my soul like thine was* pure, 
 And all its rising fires could smothery 
 
 But, now, thy vows no more endure, 
 Bestow'd by thee upon another 
 
185 
 
 4. 
 
 Perhaps, his peace I could destroy, 
 And spoil the blisses that await him 3 
 
 Yet, let my Rival smile in joy, 
 
 For thy dear sake, I cannot hate him 3 
 
 5. 
 
 Ah ! since thy angel form is gone, 
 My heart no more can rest with any ; 
 
 But what it sought in thee alone, 
 Attempts, alas ! to find in many. 
 
 6. 
 
 Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid, 
 'Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee ; 
 
 Nor Hope, nor Memory yield their aid, 
 But Pride may teach me to forget thee. 
 
 7. 
 
 Yzt all this giddy waste of years, 
 Tuis tiresome round of pacing pleasures j 
 s b 
 
1S6 
 
 These varied loves, these matron's Fears, 
 
 These thoughtless strains to Passion's measure^ 
 
 8. 
 
 If thou wert mine, had all been hushed, 
 This cheek now pale from early riot ; 
 
 With Passions hectic ne'er had flush'd, 
 But bloom'd in calm domestic quiet. 
 
 Yes, once the yural Scene was sweet, 
 For Nature seem'd to smile before thee; 
 
 And once my Breast abhorr'd deceit, 
 For then it beat but to adore thee. 
 
 10. 
 
 But, now, I seek for other joys, 
 
 To think, would drive my soul to madness 5 
 In thoughtless throngs, and empty noise, 
 
 I conquer half my Bosom's sadness. 
 
137 
 
 11. 
 
 Yet, even in these, a thought will steal,, 
 In spite of every vain endeavour ; 
 
 And fiends might pity what I feel, 
 To know, that thou art lost forever. 
 
 P j in ted by S. and J. Ridge,, Newark. 
 

To a subsequent Edition the following Additions 
 were made- 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS: 
 
 Scries of IJocms, 
 
 ORIGINAL AND TRANSLATED. 
 
 BT 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
 Mijt ap' fie fiaX aivee /uijrf ri veiku. 
 
 Homer. Iliad, 10. 
 
 He whistled as he went for want of thought. 
 
 Dry den. 
 
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE 
 
 FREDERICK, 
 
 EARL OF CARLISLE, 
 
 KNIGHT OF THE GARTER, &c. &c. 
 
 THE 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 OF 
 
 THESE POEMS IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 BT 
 
 HIS OBLIGED WARD, 
 
 AND 
 
 AFFECTIONATE KINSMAN, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 On leaving Newstead Abbey * » 1 
 
 Epitaph on a Friend > 5 
 
 A Fragment • «>•• 7 
 
 The Tear 8 
 
 An Occasional Prologue • • . 12 
 
 On the Death of Mr. Fox 14 
 
 Stanzas to a Lady with the Poems of Camoens 17 
 
 ToM. i 18 
 
 To Woman 20 
 
 To M. S. G 22 
 
 Song . 24 
 
 To 28 
 
 To Mary, on receiving her Picture 31 
 
 Damsetas 33 
 
 To Marion c 34 
 
 Oscar of Alva 37 
 
 To the Duke of D 54 
 
 TRANSLATIONS AND IMITATIONS. 
 
 Adrian's Address to his Soul, when dying 63 
 
 Translation 63 
 
 Translation from Catullus 64 
 
VIII 
 
 Page 
 
 Translation of the Epitaph on Virgil and Tibullus 66 
 
 Translation from Catullus 67 
 
 Imitated from Catullus -. 69 
 
 Translation from Anacreou. To his Lyre 70 
 
 Ode III 72 
 
 Fragments of School Exercises 75 
 
 Episode of Nisus and Euryalus 76 
 
 Translation from the Medea of Euripides 97 
 
 FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
 Thoughts suggested by a College Examination 103 
 
 To the Earl of 108 
 
 Granta, a Medley 114 
 
 Lachin y. Gair 120 
 
 To Romance 124 
 
 Elegy on Newstead Abbey 128 
 
 The Death of Calmar and Orla 139 
 
 ToE. N. L.Esq ......*„.... 148 
 
 To 153 
 
 Stanzas 156 
 
 Lines written beneath an Elm, in the Churchyard of 
 Harrow on the Hill 159 
 
FUGITIVE PIECES. 
 
24 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 When I roved a young Highlander, o'er the 
 dark heath 
 And climbed thy steep summit, oh ! Morven 
 of snow ;* 
 To gaze on the torrent that thundered beneath, 
 Or the mist of the tempest that gathered belo wt 
 Untutored by science, a stranger to fear, 
 
 And rude as the rocks where my infancy gTew, 
 No feeling, save one, to my bosom was dear, 
 Need I say, my sweet Mary, 'twas centered 
 in you. 
 
 * Morven : a lofty mountain in Aberdeenshire : " Gornial 
 of snow," is an expression frequently to be found in Ossian. 
 
 f This will not appear extraordinary to those who have been 
 accustomed to the Mountains ; it is by no means uncommon 
 on attaining the top of Ben-e-vis, Ben-y-bourd, &c. to perceive 
 between the summit and the valley, clouds pouring down rain, 
 and occasionally accompanied by lightning, while the Spectator 
 literally looks down upon the storm, perfectly secure from its 
 effects. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 25 
 
 Yet, it could not be love, fori knew not the name, 
 
 What passion can dwell in the heart of a child ? 
 But still I perceive an emotion the same 
 
 As I felt, when a boy, on the crag-covered wild : 
 One image alone, on my bosom impressed 
 
 I loved my bleak regions nor panted for new, 
 And few were my wants, for my wishes were 
 blessed, 
 
 And pure were my thoughts, for my soul was 
 with you. 
 
 I arose with the dawn, with my dog as my guide, 
 From mountain to mountain I bounded along, 
 I breasted* the billows of Dee'rf rushing tide, 
 And heard at a distance, the Highlander's song : 
 At eve, on my heath-covered couch of repose, 
 No dreams, save of Mary, were spread to nry 
 view, 
 And warm to the skies my devotions arose, 
 For the first of my prayers was a blessing on 
 you. 
 
 * Breasting the lofty mountain. Shakspeare. 
 
 f The Dee is a beautiful river, which rises near Mar Lodge, 
 and falls into the sea at New Aberdeen. 
 
26 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 I left my bleak home and my visions are gone, 
 The mountains are vanished, my youth is 
 no more.; 
 As the last of my race, I must wither alone, 
 And delight but in days I have witnessed 
 before ; 
 Ah! splendour has raised, but embittered my 
 lot, 
 More dear were the scenes which my infancy 
 knew ; 
 Though my hopes may have failed, yet they are 
 
 not forgot, 
 Though cold is my heart still it lingers with you. 
 
 When I see some dark hill point its crest to the 
 sky, 
 I think of the rocks that overshadow Col- 
 bleen * ; 
 When I see the soft blue of a love-speaking eye, 
 I think of those eyes that endeared the rude 
 scene ; 
 
 * Colbleen is a mountain near the verge of the Highlands, 
 not far from the ruins of Dee Castle. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 27 
 
 When, haply, some light- waving locks I behold 
 That faintly resemble my Mary's in hue, 
 
 I think on the long flowing ringlets of gold, 
 The locks that were sacred to beauty and you. 
 
 Yet the day may arrive, when the mountains 
 once more 
 Shall rise to my sight, in their mantles of 
 snow : 
 But while these soar above me, unchanged as 
 before, 
 Will Mary be there to receive me ? ah no ! 
 Adieu ! then, ye hills, where my childhood was 
 bred, 
 Thou sweet flowing Dee, to thy waters adieu ! 
 No home in the forest shall shelter my head, 
 Ah ! Mary, what home could be mine but 
 with you ? 
 
64 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 TO THE DUKE OF D. 
 
 IN looking over my papers, to select a few additional Poems for this 
 second edition, I found the following lines, which I had totally 
 forgotten, composed in the summer of 1805, a short time pre- 
 vious to my departure from H . They were addressed to a 
 
 young school-fellow of high rank, who had been my frequent com- 
 panion in some rambles, through the neighbouring country ; how- 
 ever he never saw the lines, and most probably never will. As, 
 on a reperusal, I found them not worse than some other pieces in 
 the collection, I have now published them, for the first time, after 
 a slight revision. 
 
 D — r — t ! whose early steps with mine have 
 
 strayed, 
 Exploring every path of Ida's glade, 
 Whom still affection taugjht me to defend, 
 And made me less a tyrant than a friend ; 
 Though the harsh custom of our youthful band, 
 Bade thee obey, and gave me to command* ; 
 
 . * At every public School, the junior boys are completely 
 subservient to the upper forms, till they attain a seat in the 
 higher classes. From this state of probation, very properly 
 no rank is exempt; but after a certain period, they command 
 in turn those who succeed. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. »55 
 
 Thee on whose head a few short years will shower 
 The gift of riches, and the pride of power ; 
 Even now a name illustrious is thine own, 
 Renowned in rank, not far beneath the throne. 
 Yet D — r — t, let not this seduce thy soul, 
 To shun fair science, or evade controul; 
 Though passive tutors,* fearful to dispraise 
 The titled child, whose future breath may raise, 
 View ducal errors with indulgent eyes, 
 And wink at faults they tremble to chastise. 
 
 When youthful parasites, who bend the knee 
 To wealth, their golden idol, not to thee! 
 And, even in simple boyhood's opening dawn, 
 Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn ; 
 When these declare, " that pomp alone should 
 
 wait 
 " On one by birth predestined to be great; 
 " That books were only meant for drudging 
 
 fools, 
 " That gallant spirits scorn the common rules;" 
 
 * Allow me to disclaim any personal allusions, even the 
 most distant ; I merely mention generally, what is too often the 
 weakness of preceptors. 
 
56 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 Believe them not, — they point the path to shame, 
 And seek to blast the honours of thy name: 
 Turn to the few in Ida's early throng, 
 Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong; 
 Or, if amidst the comrades of thy youth, 
 None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth, 
 Ask thine own heart ! 'twill bid thee, boy, forbear, 
 For well I know, that virtue lingers there. 
 
 YesT I have marked thee many a passing day, 
 But, now new scenes invite me far away; 
 Yes ! I have marked within that generous mind, 
 A soul, if well matured, to bless mankind ; 
 Ah ! though myself, by nature haughty, wild, 
 Whom Indiscretion hailed her favourite child ; 
 Though every error stamps me for her own-, 
 And dooms my fall, I fain would fall alone ; 
 Though my proud heart no precept, now can 
 
 tame, 
 I love the virtues which I cannot claim. 
 
 'Tis not enough, with other sons of power, 
 To gleam the lambent meteor of an hour, 
 To swell some peerage page in feeble pride, 
 With long-drawn names, that grace no page 
 beside ; 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 57 
 
 Then share with titled crowds the common lot, 
 In life just gazed at, in the grave forgot ; 
 While naught divides thee from the vulgar dead, 
 Except the dull cold stone that hides thy head, 
 The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the Herald's 
 
 roll, 
 That well emblazoned, but neglected scroll, 
 Where Lords, unhonoured, in the tomb may 
 
 find 
 One spot, to leave a worthless name behind. — 
 There sleep, unnoticed as the gloomy vaults * 
 That veil their dust, their follies, and their 
 
 faults ; 
 A race, with old armorial lists o'erspread, 
 In records destined never to be read. 
 Fain would I view thee with prophetic eyes, 
 Exalted more among the good and wise ; 
 A glorious and a long career pursue, 
 As first in rank, the first in talent too ; 
 Spurn every vice, each little meanness shun, 
 Not fortune's minion, but her noblest son. 
 
 Turn to the annals of a former day, 
 Bright are the deeds thine earlier sires 
 display ; 
 
 d 2 
 
58 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 One, though a Courtier, lived a man of worth, 
 And called, proud boast ! the drama forth.* 
 Another view, not less renowned for wit, 
 Alike, for courts, and camps, or senates fit ; 
 Bold in the field, and favoured by the Nine, 
 In every splendid part ordained to shine ; 
 Far, far, distinguished from the glittering throng, 
 The pride of princes, and the boast of Song,f 
 Such were thy Fathers, thus preserve their name, 
 Not heir to titles only, but to Fame. 
 The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close 
 To me, this little scene of joys and woes ; 
 
 * " Thomas S— k— lie, Lord B— k— st, created Earl of 
 
 " D by James the First, was one of the earliest, and 
 
 " brightest ornaments to the poetry of his country, and the 
 " first who produced a regular drama." 
 
 Anderson's British Poets. 
 
 f Charles S — k — He, Earl of D , esteemed the most 
 
 accomplished man of this day, was alike distinguished in the 
 voluptuous court of Charles II. and the gloomy one of Wil- 
 liam HI. He behaved with great gallantry in the sea-fight 
 with the Dutch, in 1CG5, on the day previous to which he 
 composed his celebrated song. His character has been drawn 
 in the highest colours by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve. 
 Vide Anderson's British Poets. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 59 
 
 Each knell of Time now warns me to resign 
 Shades, where Hope, Peace, and Friendship 
 
 all were mine ; 
 Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue, 
 And gild their pinions as the moments flew ; 
 Peace , that reflection never frowned away, 
 By dreams of ill, to cloud some future day ; 
 Friendship, whose truth let childhood only tell, 
 Alas ! they love not long who love so well. 
 To these adieu ! nor let me linger o'er 
 Scenes hailed, as exiles hail their native shore, 
 Receding, slowly, through the dark-blue deep, 
 Beheld by eyes that mourn, yet cannot weep. 
 
 D — r — t ! farewell ! I will not ask one part, 
 Of sad remembrance in so young a heart ; 
 The coming morrow from thy youthful mind, 
 Will sweep my name, nor leave a trace behind. 
 And yet, perhaps, in some maturer year, 
 Since chance has thrown us in the self-same 
 
 sphere, 
 Since the same senate, nay the same debate, 
 May one day claim our suffrage for the state, 
 We hence may meet, and pass each other by 
 With faint regard, or cold and distant eye. 
 
60 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 For me, in future, neither friend or foe, 
 
 A stranger to thyself, thy weal or woe ; 
 
 With thee no more again, I hope to trace, 
 
 The recollection of our early race ; 
 
 No more, as once in social hours rejoice, 
 
 Or hear unless in crowds, thy well-known voice. 
 
 Still, if the wishes of a heart untaught 
 
 To veil those feelings which perchance, it ought, 
 
 If these — but let me cease the lengthened strain, 
 
 Oh ! if these wishes are not breathed in vain, 
 
 The guardian seraph who directs thy fate, 
 
 Will leave thee glorious, as he found thee great. 
 
108 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 TO THE EARL OF 
 
 Tu semper anions 
 " Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat Imago." 
 
 Valerius Flaccits. 
 
 Friend of my youth! when young we roved, 
 Like striplings mutually beloved, 
 
 With Friendship's purest glow ; 
 The bliss which winged those rosy hours, 
 Was such as pleasure seldom showers 
 
 On mortals here below. 
 
 The recollection seems alone, 
 Dearer than all the joys I've known, 
 
 When distant far from yon ; 
 Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain, 
 To trace those days and hours again. 
 
 And sigh again, adieu ! 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 109 
 
 My pensive memory lingers o'er 
 Those scenes to be enjoyed no more, 
 
 Those scenes regretted ever ; 
 The measure of our youth is full, 
 Life's evening dream is dark and dull, 
 
 And we may meet — ah ! never ! 
 
 As when one parent spring supplies 
 
 Two streams which from one fountain rise, 
 
 Together joined in vain ; 
 How soon, diverging from their source. 
 Each, murmuring, seeks another course. 
 
 Till mingled in the main. 
 
 Our vital streams of weal or woe, 
 Though near, alas ! distinctly flow, 
 
 Nor mingle as before : 
 Now swift or slow, now black or clear, 
 Till death's unfathomed gulph appear, 
 
 And both shall quit the shore. 
 
 Our souls, my friend ! which once supplied 
 One wish, nor breathed a thought beside, 
 
 Now flow in different channels ; 
 Disdaining humbler rural sports, 
 'Tis yours to mix in polished courts, 
 
 And shine in Fashion's annals. 
 
110 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 'Tis mine to waste on love my time, 
 Or vent my reveries in rhyme, 
 
 Without the aid of Reason ; 
 For sense and reason (Critics know it,) 
 Have quitted every amorous Poet, 
 
 Nor left a thouarht to seize on. 
 
 '&' 
 
 Poor Little ! sweet melodious bard ; 
 Of late esteemed it monstrous hard, 
 
 That he who sang before all ; 
 He who the lore of love expanded, 
 By dire Reviewers should be branded, 
 
 As void of wit and moral.^ 
 
 And yet, while Beauty's praise is thine, 
 Harmonious favourite of the Nine, 
 
 Repine not at thy lot ; 
 Thy soothing lays may still be read, 
 When Persecution's arm is dead, 
 
 And Critics are forgot. 
 
 * These stanzas were written soon after the appearance of a 
 severe Critique in a Northern Review, on a new publication of 
 the British Anacreon. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Still I must yield those worthies merit, 
 Who chasten with unsparing spirit, 
 
 Bad rhymes, and those who write them ; 
 And though myself may be the next, 
 By critic sarcasm to be vext, 
 
 I really, will not fight them.^ 
 
 Perhaps they would do quite as well, 
 To break the rudely sounding shell, 
 
 Of such a young beginner ; 
 He who offends at pert nineteen, 
 , Ere thirty, may become, I ween, 
 A very hardened sinner. 
 
 Now 1 must return to you, 
 
 And sure apologies are due, 
 
 Accept then my concession ; 
 
 In truth, dear , in fancy's flight, 
 
 I soar along from left to right. 
 
 My Muse admires digression. 
 
 * A Bard (Horesco referens,) defied his reviewer to mortal 
 combat: if this example becomes prevalent, our periodical 
 Censors must be dipped in the River Styx, for what else can 
 secure them from the numerous host of their enraged as- 
 sailants ? 
 
112 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 I think I said 'twould be your fate 
 To add one star to royal state, 
 
 May regal smiles attend you ; 
 And should a noble monarch reign, 
 You will not seek his smiles in vain, 
 
 If worth can recommend you. 
 
 Yet, since in danger courts abound, 
 Where specious rivals glitter round, 
 
 From snares, may Saints preserve you ; 
 And grant your love or friendship ne'er 
 From any claim a kindred care, 
 
 But those who best deserve you. 
 
 Not for a moment may you stray 
 From Truth's secure unerring way, 
 
 May no delights decoy ; 
 O'er roses may your footsteps move, 
 Your smiles be ever smiles of love, 
 
 Your tears be tears of joy. 
 
 Oh ! if you wish that happiness 
 
 Your coming days and years may bless, 
 
 And virtues crown your brow ; 
 Be still as you were wont to be, 
 Spotless as you've been known to me, 
 
 Be still as you are now. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. US 
 
 And though some trifling share of praise, 
 To cheer my last declining days 
 
 To me were doubly dear : 
 Whilst blessing your beloved name, 
 Pd wave at once, a Poetfs fame, 
 
 To prove a Prophet here. 
 
156 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 STANZAS. 
 
 I would I were a careless child, 
 
 Still dwelling in my Highland cave, 
 Or roaming through the dusky wild, 
 
 Or bounding o'er the dark blue wave ; 
 The cumbrous pomp of Saxon* pride, 
 
 Accords not with the freeborn soul, 
 Which loves the mountain's craggy side, 
 
 And seeks the rocks where billows roll. 
 
 Fortune ! take back these cultured lands, 
 
 Take back this name of splendid sound ! 
 I hate the touch of servile hands, 
 
 I hate the slaves that cringe around : 
 Place me along the rocks I love, 
 
 Which sound to Ocean's wildest roar, 
 I ask but this — again to rove, 
 
 Through scenes my youth hath known before. 
 
 * Sassenage, or Saxon, a Gaelic word, signifying either 
 Lowland or English. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 157 
 
 Few are my years, and yet I feel 
 
 The world was ne'er designed for me, 
 Ah ! why do darkening shades conceal 
 
 The hour when man must cease to be } 
 Once I beheld a splendid dream, 
 
 A visionary scene of bliss ; 
 Truth ! — wherefore did thy hated beam 
 
 Awake me to a world like this ? 
 
 I loved — but those I loved are gone ; 
 
 Had friends — my early friends are fled ; 
 How cheerless feels the heart alone 
 
 When all its former hopes are dead ? 
 Though gay companions, o'er the bowl, 
 
 Dispel awhile the sense of ill, 
 Though pleasure stirs the maddening soul, 
 
 The heart — the heart is lonely still. 
 
 How dull ! to hear the voice of those 
 
 Whom rank, or chance, whom wealth or power, 
 Have made ; though neither friends, or foes, 
 
 Associates of the festive hour : 
 Give me again, a faithful few, 
 
 In years and feelings, still the same, 
 And I will fly the midnight crew, 
 
 Where boist'rous joy is but a name. 
 
158 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 And Woman ! lovely Woman, thou ! 
 
 My hope, my comforter, my all ! 
 How cold must be my bosom now, 
 
 When e'en thy smiles begin to pall. 
 Without a sigh would I resign 
 
 This busy scene of splendid woe, 
 To make that calm Contentment mine, 
 
 Which Virtue knows, or seems to know. 
 
 Fain would I fly the haunts of men, 
 
 I seek to shun, not hate, mankind, 
 My breast requires the sullen glen, 
 
 Whose gloom may suit a darkened mind ; 
 Oh ! that to me the wings were given, 
 
 Which bear the turtle to her nest ! 
 Then would I cleave the vault of heaven, 
 
 To flee away, and be at rest.* 
 
 * Psalm 55, verse 6 " And I said, Oh ! that 1 had 
 
 wings like a dove, then would I fly away, and be at rest." 
 This verse also constitutes a part of the most beautiful anthein 
 in our language. 
 
HOURS OF IDLENESS. 159 
 
 LINES, 
 
 WRITTEN BENEATH AN ELM, 
 IN THE 
 
 CHURCH YARD OF HARROW ON THE HILL, 
 
 SEPTEMBER 2, 1807. 
 
 Spot of my youth ! whose hoary branches sigh, 
 Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky, 
 Where now alone, I muse, who oft have trod, 
 With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod ; 
 With those, who scattered far, perchance, deplore 
 Like me, the happy scenes they knew before ; 
 Oh ! as I trace again thy winding hill, 
 Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still, 
 Thou drooping Elm ! beneath whose boughs I lav, 
 And frequent mused the twilight hours away ; 
 Where as they once were wont, my limbs recline, 
 But, ah ! without the thoughts which then were 
 
 mine ; 
 How do thy branches, moaning to the blast, 
 Invite the bosom to recall the past, 
 And seem to whisper as they gently swell, 
 " Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last fare- 
 well!" 
 
160 HOURS OF IDLENESS. 
 
 When fate shall chill, at Ingth, this fevered 
 Andcalm its cares and passions into rest; [breast, 
 Oft have I thought 'twould soothe my dying hour, 
 If aught may soothe, when Life resigns her 
 
 power ; 
 % To know some humbler grave, some narrow cell, 
 Would hide my bosom where it loved to dwell, 
 With this fond dream methinks 'twere sweet to 
 
 die, 
 And here it lingered, here my heart might lie, 
 Here might I sleep where all my hopes arose, 
 Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose : 
 For ever stretched beneath this mantling shade, 
 Pressed by the turf where once my childhood 
 
 played ; 
 Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot 1 loved, 
 Mixed with the earth o'er which my footsteps 
 
 moved ; 
 Blessed by the tongues that charmed my youth- 
 ful ear, 
 Mourned by the few my soul acknowledged here, 
 Deplored by those, in early days allied, 
 And unremembered by the world beside. 
 
Ijl^lSo 
 
m.