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used by the sneer, he rais'd the bowl; And Mora's eye could Allan move,
Alas! that eyes, which beam'd with love, ernal fear appallid his soul,
Should urge the soul to deeds of Hell. He said, and dash'd the cup to earth.
Lo! seest thou not a lonely tomb, Tis he! I hear my murderer's voice," Which rises o'er a warrior dead ! Loud shrieks a darkly gleaming Form; It glimmers through the twilight gloom;
murderer's voice !" the roof replies, Oh! that is Allan's nuptial bed. And deeply swells the bursting storm.
Far, distant far, the noble grave, he tapers wink, the chieftains shrink, Which held his clan's great ashes, stood; The stranger's gone, - amidst the crew And o'er his corse no banners wave, Form was seen, in tartan green,
For they were stain'd with kindred blood. And tall the shade terrific grew.
What minstrel gray, what hoary bard, lis waist was bound with a broad belt round, Shall Allan's deeds on harp-strings raise ?
Ilis plume of sable stream'd on high ; The song is glory's chief reward, lut his breast was bare, with the red But who can strike a murderer's praise ?
wounds there, And fix'd was the glare of his glassy eye. Unstrung, untouch'd, the harp must stand,
No minstrel dare the theme awake; Ind thrice he smiled, with his eye so wild, Guilt would benumb his palsied hand,
On Angus, bending low the knee; His harp in shuddering chords would Ind thrice he frown'd on a Chief on the
break. ground, Whom shivering crowds with horror see. No lyre of fame, no hallow'd verse,
Shall sound his glories high in air, The bolts loud roll, from pole to pole, A dying father's bitter curse,
The thunders through the welkin ring; A brother's death-groan echoes thero. And the gleaming Forin, through the mist
of the storm, Was borne on high by the whirlwind's wing.
TO THE DUKE OF DORSET.
In looking over my papers, to select a few adCold was the feast, the revel ceased; ditional Poems for the second edition, I found Who lies upon the stony floor?
the following lines, which I had totally for
gotten, composed in the Summer of 1805, a short Oblivion prest old Angus' breast,
time previous to my departure from Harrow. At length his life-pulse throbs once more. They were addressed to a young school-fellow
of high rank, who had been my frequent compa“Away, away, let the leech essay,
nion in some rambles through the neighbouring
country; however, he never saw the lines, and To pour the light on Allan's eyes;" most probably never will. As, on a reperusal, His sand is done, - his race is run,
I found them not worse than some other pieces Oh! never more shall Allan rise!
in the collection, I have now published them,
for the first time, after a slight revision. But Oscar's breast is cold as clay,
Dorset! whose early steps with mine have His locks are lifted by the gale,
stray'd, And Allan's barbed arrow lay,
Exploring every path of Ida's glade, With him in dark Glentanar's vale. Whom, still, affection taught me to defend,
And made me less a tyrant than a friend; And whence the dreadful stranger came, Though the harsh custom of our youthful Or who, no mortal wight can tell;
band But no one doubts the Form of Flame, Bade thee obey, and gave me to command For Alva's sons knew Oscar well. Thee, on whose head a few short years will
shower Ambition nerved young Allan's hand, The gift of riches, and the pride of power;
Exulting demons wing'd his dart, Even now a name illustrious is thine own, While Envy waved her burning brand, Renown'd in rank,not far beneath the throne. And pour'd her venom round his heart. Yet, Dorset, let not this seduce thy soul,
To shun fair science, or evade control; Swift is the shast from Allan's bow: Though passive tutors, fearful to dispraise Whose streaming life-blood stains his The titled child, whose future breath may side ?
raise, Dark Oscar's sable crest is low,
View ducal errors with indulgent eyes, The dart has drunk his vital tide. And wink at faults they tremble to chastiso.
When youthful parasites, who bend the Spurn every vice, each little meanness shur,
Not Fortune's minion, but her noblest son. To wealth, their golden idol,--not to thee! Turn to the annals of a former day, And, even in simple boyhood's opening dawn, Bright are the deeds thine earlier Sires Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn:
display; When these declare, “that pomp alone One, though a Courtier,lived a man of worth,
should wait And call'd, proud boast! the British Drama On one by birth predestined to be great;
forth. That books were only meant for drudging Another view! not less renown'd for Wil.
Alike for courts, and camps, or senates fit; That gallant spirits scorn the common rules;" | Bold in the field, and favour'd by the Nine, Believe them not,- they point the path to In every splendid part ordain'd to shine;
Far, far distinguish'd from the glittering And seek to blast the honours of thy name:
throng, Turn to the few, in Ida's early throng, The pride of Princes, and the boast of Song. Whose souls disdain not to condemn the Such were thy Fathers, thus preserve their
wrong; Or, if amidst the comrades of thy youth, Not heir to titles only, but to Fame. None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth, The hour draws nigh, a few brief days Ask thine own heart! 'twill bid thee, boy,
will close, forbear,
To me, this little scene of joys and woes; For well I know that virtue lingers there. Each knell of Time now warns me to resigi
Shades, where Hope, Peace and Friendship,
all were mine; Yes! I have mark’d thee many a passing Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue,
And gild their pinions, as the moments flew; But now new scenes invite me far away ; Peace, that reflection never frown'd away, Yes! I have mark’d, within that generous By dreams of ill, to cloud some future day;
Friendship, whose truth let childhood only A soul, if well matured, to bless mankind ;
tell, Ah! though myself by nature haughty,wild, Alas! they love not long, who love so well. Whom Indiscretion bail'd her favourite To these adieu! nor let me linger o'er
Scenes hail'd, asexiles hail their native shore, Though every error stamps me for her own, Receding slowly through the dark blue deep, And dooms my fall, I fain would fall alone; Beheld by eyes that mourn, yet cannot weep. Though my proud heart no precept now
can tame, I love the virtues which I cannot claiin. Dorset! farewell! I will not ask one part 'Tis not enough, with other Sons of power, of sad remenbrance in so young a heart; To gleam the lambent meteor of an hour, The coming morrow from thy youthful mind, To swell some peerage-page in feeble pride, Will sweep my name, nor leave a trace With long-drawn names, that grace no
behind. page beside;
And yet, perhaps, in some maturer year. Then share with titled crowds the common Since chance has thrown us in the selflot,
same sphere, In life just gazed at, in the grave forgot; Since the same senate, nay, the same debate, While nought divides thee from the vulgar May one day claim our suffrage for the state,
We hence may meet, and pass each other by Except the dull cold stone that hides thy With faint regard, or cold and distant eye.
For me, in future, neither friend or foe, The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the Herald's A stranger to thyself, thy weal or woe;
With thee no more again I hope to trace That well-emblazon'd, but neglected scroll, | The recollection of our early race ; Where Lords, unhonour'd, in the tomb may No more, as once, in social hours, rejoice,
Or hear, unless in crowds, thy well-known One spot to leave a worthless name behind;
voice. There sleep, unnoticed as the gloomy vanlts Still, if the wishes of a heart untaught That veil their dust, their follies, and To veil those feelings, which perchance, their faults;
it ought; A race, with old armorial lists o'erspread, If these, but let me cease the lengthend In records destined never to be read.
strain, Fain would I view thee,with prophetic eyes, Oh! if these wishes are not breathed in vain, Exalted more ainong the good and wise; The Guardian Seraph, who directs thy fate, A glorious and a long career pursile, Will leave thee glorious, as he found thee As first in Rank, the first in Talent ton;
ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL,
TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS.
LUCTUS DE MORTE PASSERIS.
ANIMULA! vagula, blandula,
Nor let your wings with joy be spread;
My Lesbia's favourite bird is dead,
Whom dearer than her eyes she loved ;
For he was gentle, and so true, Ar! gentle, fleeting, wavering Sprite,
Obedient to her call he flew, Friend and associate of this clay!
No fear, no wild alarm he knew, To what unknown region borne,
But lightly o'er her bosom moved : Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight? And softly fluttering here and there, No more, with wonted humour gay,
He never sought to cleave the air; But pallid, cheerless, and forlorn.
But chirrup'd oft, and free from care,
Tuned to her ear his grateful strain. Now having pass'd the gloomy bourn,
From whence he never can return, TRANSLATION FROM CATULLUS. His death, and Lesbia's grief, I mourn,
Who sighs, alas! but sighs in vain. Oh! curst be thou, devouring grave!
Whose jaws eternal victims crave, Equal to Jove that youth must be, From whom no earthly power can save, Greater than Jove, he seems to me,
For thou hast ta'en the bird away: Who, free from Jealousy's alarms, From thee, my Lesbia's eyes o’erflow. Securely views thy matchless charms; Her swollen cheeks with weeping glow, That cheek, which ever dimpling glows,
Thou art the cause of all her woe,
IMITATED FROM CATULLUS.
Still, would I steep my lips in bliss, My limbs deny their slight support;
And dwell an age on every kiss; Cold dews my pallid face o'erspread,
Nor then my soul should sated be, With deadly languor droops my head,
Still would I kiss and cling to thee: My ears with tingling echoes ring,
Nought should my kiss from thine dissever, And life itself is on the wing;
Still would we kiss, and kiss for ever; My eyes refuse the cheering light, E'en though the number did exceed Their orbs are veil'd in starless night;
The yellow harvest's countless seed; Such pangs my nature sinks beneath, To part would be a vain endeavour, And feels a temporary death.
Could I desist?-ah! never--never,
TRANSLATION OF THE EPITAPH ON
VIRGIL AND TIBULLUS.
TRANSLATION FROM ANACREON.
BY DOMITIUS MARSUS.
TO HIS LYRE.
He who, sublime, in Epic numbers rollid, I wish to tune iny quivering lyre,
And he who struck the softer lyre of love, To deeds of fame, and notes of fire;
When Atreus' sons advanced to war,
Or Tyrlan Cadmus roved afar;
He cried, “if this its strength has lost; But, still, to martial strains unknown, I fear, relax'd with midnight-dews, My lyre recurs to love alone.
The strings their former aid refuse." Fired with the hope of future fame, With poison tipt, his arrow flies, I seek some nobler hero's name;
Deep in my tortured heart it lies: The dying chords are strung anew, Then loud the joyous urchin laugh'd, To war, to war my harp is due;
“My bow can still impel the shaft, With glowing strings the epic strain 'Tis firmly fix'd, thy sighs reveal it; To Jove's great son I raise again; Say, courteous host, canst thou not feel it? Alcides and his glorious deeds, Beneath whose arm the Hydra bleeds; All, all in vain, my wayward lyre FRAGMENTS OF SCHOOL EXERCISES Wakes silver-notes of soft desire. Adieu ! ye chiefs renown'd in arms! FBOM THE PROMETHEUS VINCTUS OP ESCHIA Adieu ! the clang of war's alarms. To other deeds my soul is strung,
Great Jove! to whose Almighty throne
Both Gods and mortals homage pay. And sweeter notes shall now be sung;
Ne'er may my soul thy power disowe, My harp shall all its powers reveal,
Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. To tell the tale my heart must feel;
Oft shall the sacred victim fall Love, love alone, iny lyre shall claim,
In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall;
My voice shall raise no impious strain
How different now thy joyless fate,
Since first Hesione thy bride, 'Twas now the hour, when Night had driven
When placed aloft in godlike state, Her car half round yon sable heaven;
The blushing beauty by thy side, Bootes, only, seem'd to roll
Thou sat’st, while reverend Ocean smiled His Arctic charge around the Pole;
And mirthful strains the hours beguiled; While mortals, lost in gentle sleep,
The Nymphs and Tritons danced around Forgot to smile, or ceased to weep; At this lone hour thc Paphian boy,
Nor yet thy doom was fix'd, nor Joven
lentless frown Descending from the realms of joy,
Harrow, Dec. 1, 1504 Quick to my gate directs his course, And knocks with all his little force; My visions fled, alarm’d I rose; •What stranger breaks my blest repose ?”
THE EPISODE OF NISUS AND “Alas!” replies the wily child,
EURYALUS. In faultering accents, sweetly mild;
A PARAPHRASE FROM THE ÆNEID, LIE. 9 “A hapless infant here I roam, Far from my dear maternal home; Nisus, the guardian of the portal, stood. Oh! shield me from the wintery blast, Eager to gild his arms with hostile blood The mighty storm is pouring fast; Well skill'd in fight, the quivering lance No prowling robber lingers here;
to wield, A wandering baby, who can fear?" Or pour his arrows through th' embattled I heard his seeming artless tale,
field; I heard his sighs upon the gale;
From Ida torn, he left his sylvan care, My breast was never pity's foe,
And sought a foreign home, a distant grave; But felt for all the baby's woe;
To watch the movements of the Daunian I drew the bar, and by the light,
host, Young Love, the infant, met my sight; With him, Earyalus sustains the post : His bow across his shoulders flung, No lovelier mien adorn'd the ranks of Tros, And thence his fatal quiver hung. And beardless bloom yet graced the gallani (Ah! little did I think the dart
boy ; Would rankle soon within my eart;) Though few the seasons of his youthful life. With care I tend my weary guest, As yet a novice in the martial strife, His little fingers chill my breast; 'Twas his with beauty valour's gift to share, His glossy curls, his azure wing,
A soul heroic, as his form was fair; Which droop with nightly showers, I wring; These burn with one pure flame of generous His shivering limbs the embers warm,
love, And now, reviving from the storm, In peace, in war, united still they move; Scarce had he felt his wonted glow, Friendship and glory form their joint reward. Than swift he seized his slender bow: And now combined they hold the nighdy "I fain would know, my gentle host,"
“What God!” exclaim'd the first, “instils Or wealth redeem from foes my captivecorses
this fire ?
Or, if my destiny these last deny, r, in itself a God, what great desire? If in the spoiler's power my ashes lie, y labouring soul, with anxious thought Thy pious care may raise a simple tomb,
To mark thy love, and signalize iny doom. bhors this station of inglorious rest : Why should thy doating wretched mother he love of fame with this can ill accord,
weep e't mine to seek for glory with my sword. Her only boy, reclined in endless sleep? est thou yon camp, with torches twink- Who, for thy sake, the tempest's fury dared,
ling dim, Who,for thy sake, war's deadly peril shared; 'here drunken slumbers wrap each lazy Who braved what woman never braved limb?
before, here confidence and ease the watch disdain, And left her native for the Latian shore." nd drowsy Silence holds her sable reign? "In vain you damp the ardour of my soul,” hen hear my thought :-In deep and sullen Replied Euryalus, “it scorns control;
Hence, let us haste,” – their brotherur troops and leaders mourn their absent
guards arose, chief;
Roused by their call, nor court again repose; ow could the gifts and promised prize be The pair,buoy'd up o. Hope's exulting wing,
Their stations leave, and speed to seek the The deed, the danger,and the fame be mine);
king. Tere this decreed;— beneath yon rising Now, o'er the earth a solemn stillness ran,
And lull'd alike the cares of brute and man; lethinks,an easy path perchance were found, Save where the Dardan leaders nightly hold Thich past, I speed my way to Pallas'walls, Alternate converse, and their plans unfold; nd lead Æneas from Evander's halls." On one great point the council are agreed, lith equal ardour fired, and warlike joy, An instant message to their prince decreed; is glowing friend address’d the Dardan boy: Each lean’d upon the lance he well could These deeds, my Nisus, shalt thou dare
And poised, with easy arm, his ancient shield; last all the fame, the peril be thine own? When Nisus and his friend their leave request nd I by thee despised, and left afar, To offer something to their high behest. & one unfit to share the toils of war? With anxious tremors, yet unawed by fear, ot thus his son the great Opheltes taught, The faithful pair before the throne appear ; ot thus my sire in Argive combats fought; lulus greets them; at his kind command, ot thus, when lion fell, by heavenly hate, The elder first address’d the hòary band. track'd Æneas through the walls of fate; 'hou knowst my deeds, my breast devoid
“With patience," thơs Hyrtacides began, nd hostile life-drops dim my gory spear; “Attend, nor judge from youth, our humble lere is a soul with hope immortal burns
plan; nd life, ignoble life, for Glory spurns; Where yonder beacons, half-expiring, beam, ame, fame is cheaply earn'd by fleeting Our slumbering foes of future conquest breath,
dream, he price of honour is the sleep of death.” Nor heed that we a secret path have traced, 'hen Nisus_“Calm thy bosom's fond alarms, Between the ocean and the portal placed : 'hy heart beats fiercely to the din of arms; Beneath the covert of the blackening smoke, lore dear thy worth and valour than my own, Whose shade securely our design will cloak. swear by him who fills Olympus' throne! If you, ye Chiefs, and Fortune will allow, o may I triumph, as I speak the truth, We'll bend our course to yonder mounnd clasp again the comrade of my youth.
tain's brow; at should I fall, and he who dares advance Where Pallas' walls, at distance, meet the 'hrough hostile legions must abide by
Seen o'er the glade, when not obscured by I some Rutulian arm, with adverse blow,
night; hould lay the friend who ever loved thee Then shall Æneas in his pride return,
While hostile matrons raise their offsprings' ive thou, such beauties I would fain pre
And Latian spoils, and purpled heaps of dead, 'hy budding years a lengthened term Shall mark the havoc of our hero's tread;
Such is our purpose, not unknown the way, Vhen humbled in the dust, let some one be, Where yonder torrent's devious waters stray: Vhose gentle eyes will shed one tear for me; Oft have we seen, when hunting by the Vhose manly arm may snatch me back by
The distant spires above the valleys gleam."