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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.

Few are my years, and yet I feel

The world was ne'er design'd for me;
Ah! why do dark'ning 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 fled;

LINES

WRITTEN BENEATH AN ELM IN THE CHURCH-
YARD OF HARROW ON THE HILL.

SEPT. 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, scatter'd 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 lay,

are And frequent mused the twilight-hours
away;

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.

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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 recal the past;
And seem to whisper, as they gently swell,
"Take, while thou canst, a lingering last
farewell!"

When Fate shall chill at length this fever'd
breast,

And calm its cares and passions into rest,
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 linger'd,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 stretch'd beneath this mantling
shade,

Prest by the turf where once my childhood
play'd,
Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot I loved,
Mix'd with the earth o'er which my foot-
steps moved;

Blest by the tongues that charm'd my
youthful ear,
Mourn'd by the few my soul acknowledged
here,

Deplored by those in early days allied,
And unremember'd by the world beside.

A FRAGMENT.

June, 17, 1816. contradictory and contradicted, that none In the year 17-, having for some time could be fixed upon with accuracy. Where determined on a journey through countries there is mystery, it is generally supposed not hitherto much frequented by travellers, that there must also be evil: I know not I set out, accompanied by a friend, whom how this may be, but in him there certainly I shall designate by the name of Augustus was the one, though I could not ascertain Darvell. He was a few years my elder, the extent of the other - and felt loth, a and a man of considerable fortune and an- far as regarded himself, to believe in its cient family-advantages which an exten-existence. My advances were received with sive capacity prevented him alike from un-sufficient coldness; but I was young, and dervaluing or overrating. Some peculiar not easily discouraged, and at length suecircumstances in his private history had rendered him to me an object of attention, of interest, and even of regard, which neither the reserve of his manners, nor occasional indications of an inquietude at times nearly approaching to alienation of mind, could extinguish.

ceeded in obtaining, to a certain degree, that common-place intercourse and moderate confidence of common and every-day concerns, created and cemented by similarity of pursuit and frequency of meeting, which is called intimacy, or friendship, according to the ideas of him who uses those werdi to express them.

--

I was yet young in life, which I had begun early; but my intimacy with him Darvell had already travelled extensively, was of a recent date: we had been educa- and to him I had applied for information ted at the same schools and university; but with regard to the conduct of my intended his progress through these had preceded journey. It was my secret wish that he mine, and he had been deeply initiated into might be prevailed on to accompany me: what is called the world, while I was yet it was also a probable hope, founded upon in my noviciate. While thus engaged, 1 the shadowy restlessness which I had obhad heard much both of his past and present served in him, and to which the animation life; and, although in these accounts there which he appeared to feel on such subjects. were many and irreconcilable contradic- and his apparent indifference to all by which tions, I could still gather from the whole he was more immediately surrounded, gave that he was a being of no common order, fresh strength. This wish I first hinted. and one who, whatever pains he might take and then expressed: his answer, though i to avoid remark, would still be remarkable. had partly expected it, gave me all the I had cultivated his acquaintance subse-pleasure of surprise he consented; and, quently, and endeavoured to obtain his after the requisite arrangements, we com friendship, but this last appeared to be un-menced our voyages. After journeying attainable; whatever affections he might through various countries of the south af have possessed seemed now, some to have Europe, our attention was turned towards been extinguished, and others to be concen- the East, according to our original destinatred: that his feelings were acute I had suffi- tion; and it was in my progress through cient opportunities of observing; for, althose regions that the incident occurred though he could control, he could not alto- upon which will turn what I may have to gether disguise them: still he had a power relate. of giving to one passion the appearance of The constitution of Darvell, which must, another in such a manner that it was diffi- from his appearance, have been in early cult to define the nature of what was work-life more than usually robust, had been for ing within him; and the expressions of his some time gradually giving way, without features would vary so rapidly, though the intervention of any apparent disease: slightly, that it was useless to trace them he had neither cough nor hectic, yet be to their sources. It was evident that he became daily more enfeebled: his habits was a prey to some cureless disquiet; but were temperate, and he neither declined whether it arose from ambition, love, re- nor complained of fatigue, yet he was evimorse, grief, from one or all of these, or dently wasting away: he became more and merely from a morbid temperament akin to more silent and sleepless, and at length disease, I could not discover: there were cir-altered, that my alarm grew proportionate cumstances alleged which might have justi- to what I conceived to be his danger. fied the application to each of these causes; We had determined, on our arrival at but, as I have before said, these were so Smyrna, on an excursion to the ruins of

Ephesns and Sardis, from which I endeavoured to dissuade him, in his present state of indisposition but in vain: there appeared to be an oppression on his mind, and a solemnity in his manner, which ill corresponded with his eagerness to proceed on | what I regarded as a mere party of pleasure, little suited to a valetudinarian; but I opposed him no longer and in a few days we set off together, accompanied only by a serrugee and a single janizary.

We had passed half-way towards the remains of Ephesus, leaving behind us the more fertile environs of Smyrna, and were entering upon that wild and tenantless track through the marches and defiles which lead to the few huts yet lingering over the broken columns of Diana-the roofless walls of expelled Christianity, and the still more recent but complete desolation of abandoned mosques - when the sudden and rapid illness of my companion obliged us to halt at a Turkish cemetery, the turbaned tombstones of which were the sole indication that human life had ever been a sojourner in this wilderness. The only caravanserai we had seen was left some hours behind us; not a vestige of a town, or even cottage, was within sight or hope, and this "city of the dead" appeared to be the sole refuge for my unfortunate friend, who seemed on the verge of becoming the last of its inhabitants.

To this question I received no answer. In the mean time, Suleiman returned with the water, leaving the serrugee and the horses at the fountain. The quenching of his thirst had the appearance of reviving him for a moment; I conceived hopes of his being able to proceed, or at least to return, and I urged the attempt. He was silent-and appeared to be collecting his spirits for an effort to speak. He began.

“This is the end of my journey, and of my life-I came here to die: but I have a request to make, a command - for such my last words must be.-Yon will observe it?" "Most certainly; but have better hopes." “I have no hopes, nor wishes, but this— conceal my death from every human being." "I hope there will be no occasion; that you will recover, and—”

"Peace! it must be so: promise this." "I do."

"Swear it by all that"-Ile here dictated an oath of great solemnity.

"There is no occasion for this-I will observe your request; — and to doubt me is—” "It cannot be helped,-yon must swear." I took the oath: it appeared to relieve him. He removed a seal-ring from his finger, on which were some Arabic characters, and presented it to me. He proceeded—

"On the ninth day of the month, at noon precisely (what month you please, but this must be the day), you must fling this ring into the salt springs which run into the Bay of Eleusis: the day after, at the same hour, you must repair to the ruins of the temple of Ceres, and wait one hour." "Why?"

"You will see."

"The ninth day of the month, you say?”

"The ninth."

In this situation, I looked round for a place where he might most conveniently repose: contrary to the usual aspect of Mahometan burial-grounds, the cypresses were in this few in number, and these thinly scattered over its extent: the tombstones were mostly fallen, and worn with age!— upon one of the most considerable of these, and beneath one of the most spreading trees, As I observed that the present was the Darvell supported himself, in a half-reclin-ninth day of the month, his countenance ing posture, with great difficulty. He asked for water. I had some doubts of our being able to find any, and prepared to go in search of it with hesitating despondencybut he desired me to remain; and, turning to Suleiman, our janizary, who stood by us smoking with great tranquillity, he said, "Suleiman, verbana su" (i. e. bring some water), and went on describing the spot where it was to be found with great minute

ness.

;

changed, and he paused. As he sate, evidently becoming more feeble, a stork, with a snake in her beak, perched upon a tombstone near us, and, without devouring her prey, appeared to be stedfastly regarding us. I know not what impelled me to drive it away, but the attempt was useless; she made a few circles in the air, and returned exactly to the same spot. Darvell pointed to it, and smiled: he spoke-I know not whether to himself or to me—but the words were only, ""Tis well!"

at a small well for camels, a few hundred yards to the right: the janizari obeyed. I said to Darvell, "How did you know "What is well? what do you mean?" this?" He replied, "From our situation "No matter: you must bury me here you must perceive that this place was once this evening, and exactly where that bird inhabited, and could not have been so with-is now perched. You know the rest of my out springs: I have also been here before." injunctions." "You have been here before!--How came you never to mention this to me? and what could you be doing in a place where no one would remain a moment longer than they could help it?"

He then proceeded to give me several directions as to the manner in which his death might be best concealed. After these were finished, he exclaimed, "You perceive that bird?"

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"Certainly." that he had no opportunity of receiving it "And the serpent writhing in her beak?" | unperceived. The day was declining, the "Doubtless: there is nothing uncommon body was rapidly altering, and nothing rein it; it is her natural prey. But it is mained but to fulfil his request. With the odd that she does not devour it." aid of Suleiman's ataghan and my own sabre, we scooped a shallow grave upon the spot which Darvell had indicated: the earth easily gave way, having already received some Mahometan tenant. We dag as deeply as the time permitted us, and throwing the dry earth upon all that remained of the singular being so lately departed, we cut a few sods of greener turi from the less withered soil around us, and laid them upon his sepulchre. Between astonishment and grief, I wa tearless

He smiled in a ghastly manner, and said, faintly, "It is not yet time!" As he spoke, the stork flew away. My eyes followed it for a moment, it could hardly be longer than ten might be counted. I felt Darvell's weight, as it were, increase upon my shoulder, and, turning to look upon his face, perceived that he was dead!

I was shocked with the sudden certainty which could not be mistaken- his countenance in a few minutes becatue nearly black. I should have attributed so rapid a change to poison, had I not been aware

LETTER

TO

J. MURRAY, ESQ. ON THE REV. W. L. BOWLES' STRICTURES

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Ravenna, February 7th, 1821. | Italy; - I do "remember the circumstance,"

DEAR SIR,

--and have no reluctance to relate it (since called upon so to do) as correctly as the In the different pamphlets which you distance of time and the impression of inhave had the goodness to send me, on the tervening events will permit me. In the Pope and Bowles controversy, I perceive year 1812, more than three years after the that my name is occasionally introduced publication of "English Bards and Scotch by both parties. Mr. Bowles refers more Reviewers," I had the honour of meeting than once to what he is pleased to consider Mr. Bowles in the house of our venerable “a remarkable circumstance," not only in host the author of “Human Life," the last his letter to Mr. Campbell, but in his Argonaut of classic English poetry, and the reply to the Quarterly. The Quarterly Nestor of our inferior race of living poets. also and Mr. Gilchrist have conferred on Mr. Bowlescalls this "soon after" the pub me the dangerous honour of a quotation; lication; but to me three years appear and Mr. Bowles indirectly makes a kind of a considerable segment of the immortality appeal to me personally, by saying, "Lord of a modern poem. I recollect nothing of Byron, if he remembers the circumstance, "the rest of the company going into another will witness-(witness IN ITALIC, an omin-room -nor, though I well remember the ous character for a testimony at present.) topography of our host's elegant and clas I shall not avail myself of a "non mi sically furnished mansion, could I swear ricordo even after so long a residence into the very room where the conversation

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persons with whom I was subsequently acquainted, whose names had occurred in that publication, were made my acquaintances at their own desire, or through the unsought intervention of others. I never, to the best of my knowledge, sought a personal introduction to any. Some of them to this day I know only by correspondence; and with one of those it was begun by myself, in consequence, however, of a polite verbal communication from a third person

occurred, though the "taking down the and with some on terms of intimacy;" and poem” seems to fix it in the library. Had that he knew “one family in particular to it been "taken up" it would probably have whom its suppression would give pleasure.” been in the drawing-room. I presume also I did not hesitate one moment, it was canthat the "remarkable circumstance" took celled instantly; and it is no fault of mine place after dinner, as I conceive that nei- that it has ever been republished. When ther Mr. Bowles's politeness nor appetite I left England, in April, 1816, with no would have allowed him to detain "the very violent intentions of troubling that rest of the company" standing round their country again, and amidst scenes of various chairs in the “other room" while we were kinds to distract my attention- almost my discussing "the Woods of Madeira" instead last act, I believe, was to sign a power of circulating its vintage. Of Mr. Bowles's of attorney, to yourself, to prevent or sup"good humour" I have a full and not un-press any attempts (of which several had grateful recollection; as also of his gentle- been made in Ireland) at a republication. manly manners and agreeable conversa- It is proper that I should state, that the tion. I speak of the whole, and not of particulars; for whether he did or did not ase the precise words printed in the pamphlet, I cannot say, nor could he with accuracy. Of "the tone of seriousness" I certainly recollect nothing: on the contrary, I thought Mr. Bowles rather disposed to treat the subject lightly; for he said (I have no objection to be contradicted if incorrect), that some of his good-natured friends had come to him and exclaimed, Eh! Bowles! how came you to make the Woods of Madeira tremble?" and that he had I have dwelt for an instant on these cirbeen at some pains and pulling down of cumstances, because it has sometimes been the poem to convince them that he had made a subject of bitter reproach to me never made "the Woods" do any thing of to have endeavoured to suppress that satire. the kind. He was right, and I was wrong, I never shrunk, as those who know me and have been wrong still up to this ac- know, from any personal consequences knowledgment; for I ought to have looked which could be attached to its publication. twice before I wrote that which involved Of its subsequent suppression, as I possessed an inaccuracy capable of giving pain. The the copyright, I was the best judge and fact was, that although I had certainly the sole master. The circumstances which before read "the Spirit of Discovery," I occasioned the suppression I have now took the quotation from the Review. But stated; of the motives, each must judge the mistake was mine, and not the Review's, according to his candour or malignity. which quoted the passage correctly enough, I believe. I blundered - God knows how -into attributing the tremors of the lovers to the "Woods of Madeira," by which they were surrounded. And I hereby do fully and freely declare and asseverate, that the Woods did not tremble to a kiss, and that the lovers did. I quote from memory—

A kiss

Mr. Bowles does me the honour to talk of "noble mind," and "generous magnanimity;" and all this because "the circumstance would have been explained had not the book been suppressed." I see no "nobility of mind" in an act of simple justice; and I hate the word "magnanimity," becanse I have sometimes seen it applied to the grossest of impostors by the greatest Stole on the list ning silence,of fools; but I would have "explained the They (the lovers) trembled,circumstance," notwithstanding "the supAnd if I had been aware that this decla pression of the book," if Mr. Bowles had ration would have been in the smallest expressed any desire that I should. As the degree satisfactory to Mr. Bowles, I should "gallant Galbraith" says to "Baillie Jarnot have waited nine years to make it, vie," "Well, the devil take the mistake notwithstanding that English Bards and and all that occasioned it." I have had Scotch Reviewers" had been suppressed as great and greater mistakes made about some time previously to my meeting him me personally and poetically, once a month at Mr. Rogers's. Our worthy host might for these last ten years, and never cared indeed have told him as much, as it was very much about correcting one at his representation that I suppressed it. other, at least after the first eight and A new edition of that lampoon was prepar- forty hours had gone over them. ing for the press, when Mr. Rogers represented to me, that "I was now acquainted with many of the persons mentioned in it,

or the

I must now, however, say a word or two about Pope, of whom you have my opinion more at large in the unpublished

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