FRIEND of my youth! when young we roved, Like striplings mutually beloved, With Friendship's purest glow; The bliss which wing'd those rosy hours, The recollection seems, alone, When distant far from you; Though pain, 't is still a pleasing pain, My pensive memory lingers o'er Those scenes regretted ever; The measure of our youth is full, And we may meet-ah! never! As when one parent spring supplies, Together join'd in vain; How soon, diverging from their source, Till mingled in the main. Our vital streams of weal or woe, Nor mingle as before; Our souls, my Friend! which once supplied T is mine to waste on love my time, Without the aid of Reason; For Sense and Reason (Critics know it) Nor left a thought to seize on. subsequently (I had almost said CONSEQUENTLY) the honour of representing the University: a fact so glaring requires no comment. Poor LITTLE! sweet, melodious bard! Repine not at thy lot; Thy soothing lays may still be read, And Critics are forgot. Still, I must yield those worthies merit, Bad rhymes, and those who write them; I really will not fight them;2 I must return to you, And sure apologies are due; Accept then my concession; In truth, dear, I soar along from left to right, I think I said 't would be fate 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. May no delights decoy; Oh! if you wish that happiness These Stanzas were written soon after the appearance of a severe critique in a Northern review, on a new publication of the British Anacreon. 2 A Bard (horresco referens) defied his reviewer to mortal combat. If this example becomes prevalent, our periodical censors must be dipt in the river Styx, for what else can secure them from the numerous host of their enraged assailants? On! Could LE SAGE'S' demon's gift Be realized at my desire, This night my trembling form he 'd lift, Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls Then would I view each rival wight, P-tty and P-Im-st-n survey; Who canvass there with all their might, Lo! candidates and voters lie, All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number! A race renown'd for piety, Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber Lord H-, indeed, may not demur, Fellows are sage, reflecting men! But very seldom,-now and then. They know the Chancellor has got Some pretty livings in disposal; And, therefore, smiles on his proposal. 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. There, in apartments small and damp, Goes late to bed, yet early rises. With all the honours of his college, Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge; To scan, precisely, metres Attic, Or agitates his anxious breast In solving problems mathematic; Who reads false quantities in Sele, Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle, Deprived of many a wholesome meal, In barbarous Latin3 doom'd to wrangle; ↑ The Diable Boiteux of La S.an, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for his inspection. * Sele's publication on Greek metres displays considera! le talent and ingenuity, but, as might be expected in so difficult a work, is not remarkable for accuracy. Renouncing every pleasing page From authors of historic use; Preferring to the letter'd sage The square of the hypothenuse. Still, harmless are these occupations, That hurt none but the hapless student, Compared with other recreations, Which bring together the imprudent; Whose daring revels shock the sight, When vice and infamy combine, When drunkenness and dice unite, And every sense is steep'd in wine. Not so the methodistic crew, Who plans of reformation lay: In humble attitude they sue, And for the sins of others pray. Forgetting that their pride of spirit, Their exultation in their trial, Detracts most largely from the merit Of all their boasted self-denial. 'Tis morn,-from these I turn my sight: What scene is this which meets the eye? A numerous crowd, array'd in white, Across the green in numbers fly. 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. To this is joined the sacred song, The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain; To such a set of croaking sinners. 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. The luckless Israelites, when taken By some inhuman tyrant's order, The deuce a soul will stay to read; 'T is almost time to stop indeed. 1806. The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled tri * The Latin of the schools is of the CANINE SPECIES, and not very angle. intelligit le. On a Saint day the students wear surplices in chapel. LACHIN Y GAIR. LACHINY GAIR, or, as it is pronoun ed in the Erse, Loon Na Gann, towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern Highlands, near Invercauld. 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 bue, ut the summit is the seat of eternal snows. Near Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the recollection of which has given birth to the following Stanzas. AWAY, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses! In you let the minions of luxury rove; Round their white summits though elements war, Though cataracts foam, 'stead of smooth-llowing fountains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid; ' And rides on the wind o'er his own Highland vale: Round Loch na Garr, while the stormy mist gathers, Wister presides in his cold icy car; Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr. Ill-starr'd, though brave, did no visions foreboding Tell you that Fate had forsaken your cause?» Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden, 3 Victory crown'd not your fall with applause: Still were you happy, in deaths early 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. Years have roll'd on, Loch na Garr, since I left you; Years must clapse ere I tread you again; you, Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft To one who has roved on the mountains afar; The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr! This word is erroneously pronounced PLAD: the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography, 21 allude here to my maternal ancestors, th Gonposs, many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the STEWARTS. George, the second Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annal ella Stewart, daughter of James the First of Scotland; by her he left four sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors. 3 Whether any perished in the battle of Culloden I am not certain; but as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, pars pro toto," A tract of the Highlands so called; there is also a Castle o Braemar. 5 The Lagpipe. TO ROMANCE. PARENT of golden dreams, Romance! Thy votive train of girls and boys: But leave thy realms for those of Truth. And yet, 't is hard to quit the dreams Which haunt the unsuspicious soul, Where every nymph a goddess seems, Whose eyes through rays immortal roll; While Faucy holds her boundless reign, And all assume a varied hue, When virgins seem no longer vain, And even woman's smiles are true. And must we own thee but a name, And from thy hall of clouds descend; To mingling bands of firy elves: And friends have feelings for-themselves. No more thy precepts 1 obey, No more on fancied pinions soar: And think that eve to Truth was dear, And melt beneath a wanton's tear. Far from thy motley court I fly, And sickly Sensibility; For any pangs excepting thine; To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine: With cypress crown'd, arrayed in weeds, To mourn a swain for ever gone, But bends not now before thy throne. With fancied flames and frenzy glow: It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades was the com; anion of Orestes, and a partner in one of those friendships which, with those of Achilles and Pa roz us, Visus and Euryalos, Damon and Pythias, have been handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of attachments which, in all ro ability, never existed, beyond the imagination of the poet, the page of an historian, or modern novelist. Adieu! fond race, a long adieu! Where unlamented you must lie: Convulsed by gales you cannot weather, Where you, and eke your gentle queen, Alas! must perish altogether. ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.. It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds. OSSIAN. NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once resplendent dome! Hail to thy pile! more honour'd in thy fall, No mail-clad serfs,3 obedient to their lord, Their chief's retainers, an immortal band. Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye But not from thee, dark pile! departs the Chief, A monarch bade thee from that wild arise, Sought shelter in the priest's protecting cowl. Nor raised their pious voices, but to pray. ↑ As one poem on this subject is printed in the beginning, the author bad originally no intention of inserting the following, it is now added at the particular request of some friends. * Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas-aBeekert. This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, The Wild Huntsman, as synonymous with Vassal. • The Red Cross was the badge of the Crusaders. * As Gloaming, the Scottish word for Twilight, is far more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly Dr Moore, in his Letters to Baras, I have ventured to use it on account of its harmony. The Priory was dedicated to the Virgin. Years roll on years-to ages, ages yield— Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed, And bade the pious inmates rest in peace; And bids devotion's hallow'd echoes cease. No friend, no home, no refuge but their God. Of changing sentinels the distant hum, An abbey once, a regal fortress 2 now, War's dread machines o'erhang thy threatening brow, Ah! vain defence! the hostile traitor's siege, The blood of traitors smears the purple plain; The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save. To lead the band where godlike FALKLAND 4 fell. From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given, While dying groans their painful requiem sound, Far different incense now ascends to heavenSuch 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. 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, Raked from repose, in search of buried gold. At the Dissolution of the Monasteries, Henry VIII. bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron, • Newstead sustained a considerable siege in the war between Charles I. and his Parliament. Lord Byron and his brother Sir William held high commands 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 II. The latter had a principal share in many actions. Vide Clarendon, Hume, etc. Lucius Cary, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accomplished man of his age, was killed at the battle of Newberry, charging in the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment of cavalry. Hush'd is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre, And sable Horror guards the massy door. What satellites declare her dismal reign! And Nature triumphs as the tyrant dies. He guides through 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; Again the master on his tenure dwells, Enjoy'd, from absence, with enraptured zest. Loudly carousing, bless their lord's return; 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 chase! The dying stag seeks refuge in the lake, Exulting shouts announce the finish'd race. Ah! happy days! too happy to endure! Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew: No splendid vices glitter'd to allure Their joys were many, as their cares were few. 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. Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway. This is an historical fact. A violent tempest occurred immediately subsequent to the death, or interment, of Cromwell, which occasioned many disputes between his partisans 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. I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the subject of my poem. 2 Charles II. Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers- Cherish'd affection only bids them flow; Or gewgaw grottoes of the vainly great; Thee to eradiate with meridian ray; TO E. N. L. ESQ. Nil ego contulerim jucundo sanus amico. DEAR L——, in this sequester'd scene, While all around in slumber lie, I crush the fiend with malice fraught, In Granta's vale, the pedant's lore, Yes, I will hope that Time's broad wing To sooth its wonted heedless flow, But ne'er forget another's woe. HOR. E. |