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And though some trifling share of praise, To cheer my last declining days,

To me were doubly dear;

Whilst blessing your beloved name,
I'd wave at once a poet's fame,

To prove a prophet here.

A bard (horresco referens) defied his reviewer to mortal combat. If

is 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 assailants?

A MEDLEY.

«Αργύραις λογχαισι μάχου καὶ πάντα Κρατήσεις να

OH! Could LE SAGE'S † demon's gift

Be realized at my desire, This night my trembling form he'd lift To place it on St. Mary's spire.

Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls
Pedantic inmates full display;
Fellows who dream on lawn or stalls,
The price of venal votes to pay.

Then would I view each rival wight,
Petty and Palmerston survey;
Who canvass there with all their might,
Against the next elective day.

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:

They know preferment can occur
But very seldom, now and then.

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.

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,
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 honors of his college, Who, striving hardly to obtain them, Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge:

Who sacrifices hours of rest

To scan precisely metres Attic; Or agitates his anxious breast In solving problems mathematic:

The motto was not given in the private volume.

The Diable Boiteux of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection. ‡ Lo! candidates and voters lie, &c. The fourth and fifth stanzas, which are given here as they were printed in the Hours of Idleness, ran as follows, in the private volume :

"One on his power and place depends,

The other on the Lord knows what ;
Each to some eloquence pretends,
Though neither will convince by that.

"The first, indeed, may not demur."

§ From the soporific scene. In the private volume, From corruption's

shameless scene.

Who reads false quantities in Sele,*
Or puzzles o'er the deep triangle;
Deprived of many a wholesome meal,

In barbarous Latin † doom'd to wrangle:

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 invite,
As 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 list'ning ear.

To this is join'd the sacred song,
The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain ;
Though he who hears the music long,
Will never wish to hear again.

Our choir would scarcely be excused,
Even as a band of raw beginners;
All mercy now must be refused

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,
Were asked to sing, by joy forsaken,
On Babylonian river's border.

• Sele's publication on Greek metres displays considerable talent and ingenuity, but, as might be expected in so difficult a work, is not remarkable for

accuracy.

In the private volume, “Sele's publication on Greek metres is not remarkable for its accuracy."

† The Latin of the schools is of the canine species, and not very intelligible.

In the private volume, "Every Cambridge man will assent to this. The Latin of the schools is almost unintelligible.'

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I sue for pardon,-must I sue in vain ?
The wise sometimes from Wisdom's ways depart;
Can youth then hush the dictates of the heart?
Precepts of prudence curb, but can't control,
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 vanquish'd in the mental chase.
The young, the old, have worn the chains of love:
Let those they ne'er confined 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 labor'd lines in chilling numbers flow,
To paint a pang the author ne'er can know!
The artless Helicon I boast in youth;---

My lyre, the heart; my muse, the simple truth.
Far be't from me the "virgin's mind " to "taint:"
Seduction's dread is here no slight restraint.
The maid whose virgin breast is void of guile,
Whose wishes dimple in a modest smile,
Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,
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 desires
Torment the bosom with unholy fires,

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If I scribble longer. In the private volume, If I write much longer. †These lines were printed in the private volume, and in the first edition

The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal of Hours of Idleness, but afterwards omitted.

to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled triangle.

§ On a saint's day, the students wear surplices in chapel.

Imprudent. In the private volume, unworthy.

§ Wild. Private volume, sole.

No net to snare her willing heart is spread;
She would have fallen, though 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 prize,
The sneers or censures I alike despise.

November 26, 1806.

Still were you happy in death's earthy slumber,
You rest with your clan in the caves of Braemar ;*
The pibrocht 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 elapse ere I tread you again;
Nature of verdure and flow'rs has bereft you,

Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain.
England thy beauties are tame and domestic
To one who has roved on the mountains afar.
Oh, for the crags that are wild and majestic!
The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr

LACHIN Y. GAIR.*

Lachin y. Gair, or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loch na Garr, towers proudly preeminent 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 among our "Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but 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;
Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes,
Though still they are sacred to freedom and love:
Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains,

Round their white summits though elements war ; Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing fountains,

I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr.

Ah! where 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-covered 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,

Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr.

"Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices 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.

"Ill-starr'd, though brave, did no visions fore

boding,

Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause? Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden,§ Victory crown'd not your fall with applause:

• First published in Hours of Idleness.

This word is erroneously pronounced plad; the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is known by the orthography.

I allude here to my maternal ancestors "the Gordons," 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 Stuarts. George, the second earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stuart, daughter of James the First of Scotland. By her he left four sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honor 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 name of the principal action, pars pro toto."

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TO ROMANCE.I

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.

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.

And must we own thee but 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?

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. Fond fool! to love 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.

Romance! disgusted with deceit, Far from thy motley court I fly, Where Affectation holds her seat, And sickly Sensibility;

* A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a Castle of Braemar. ↑ The bagpipe.

First published in the Hours of Idleness.

§ It is hardly necessary to add, that Pylades was the companion of Orestes, and a partner in one of those friendships which, with those of Achilles and Patroclus, Nisus and Euryalus, Damon and Pythias, have been handed down to posterity as remarkable instances of attachments, which in all proba bility never existed beyond the imagination of the poet, or the page of as historian or modern novelist.

Whose silly tears can never flow For any pangs excepting thine; Who turns aside from real wo,

To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine.

Now join with sable Sympathy,

With cypress crown'd, array'd in weeds, Who heaves with thee her simple sigh, Whose breast for every bosom bleeds; And call thy sylvan female choir,

To mourn a swain for ever gone, Who once could glow with equal fire, But bends not now before thy throne.

Ye genial nymphs, whose ready tears
On all occasions swiftly flow;
Whose bosoms heave with fancied fears,
With fancied flames and frenzy glow;
Say, will you mourn my absent name,
Apostate from your gentle train ?
An infant bard at least may claim

From you a sympathetic strain.

Adieu, fond race! a long adieu !

The hour of fate is hovering nigh; E'en now the gulf appears in view,

Where unlamented you must lie: Oblivion's blackening lake is seen,

Convulsed by gales you cannot weather; Where you, and eke your gentle queen, Alas! must perish altogether.

ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.*

"It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds."t-Ossian.

NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once resplendent dome! Religion's shrine! repentant HENRY'S ‡ pride! Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloister'd tomb, Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide.

Hail to thy pile! more honor'd in thy fall

Than modern mansions in their pillar'd state; Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,

Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.

No 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:

Else 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.

* 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. See page 413 of this edition.

* The motto was not given in the private volume.

Henry 11. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket.

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As "gloaming," the Scottish word for twilight, is far more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters to Burns, I have ventured to use it on account of its harmony.

↑ Gloaming spreads her waning shade. In the private volume, Twilight winds a waning shade.

The priory was dedicated to the Virgin.

At the dissolution of the monasteries, Henry VIII. bestowed Newstead

§ This word is used by Walter Scott in his poem, "The Wild Huntsman," Abbey on Sir John Byron. ynenymous with vassal.

The red cross was the badge of the crusader.

Newstead sustained a considerable siege in the war between Charles 1. and his parliament.

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* Lord Byron and his brother: Sir William held high command in the royal army; the former was general-in-chief in Ireland, lieutenant of the

A thousand songs on tuneful echo float,
Unwonted foliage mantles o'er the trees;
And hark! the horns proclaim a mellow note.
The hunters' 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 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.

Newstead! what saddening change of scene is thine!
Thy yawning arch betokens slow decay;
The last and youngest of a noble line

Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway.

Deserted now, he scans thy gray worn trowers ;
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 emblem of regret;
Cherish'd affection only bids them flow.
Pride, hope, and love, forbid him to forget,
But warm his bosom with impassion'd glow.

Yet he prefers thee to the gilded domes

Or gewgaw grottos of the vainly great;
Yet lingers' mid thy damp and mossy tombs,
Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of fate.

Tower, and governor to James, Duke of York, afterwards the unhappy Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine,

James II.; the latter had a principal share in many actions.-Vide Clarendon, Hume, &c.

† 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.

‡ Martial. The private volume reads laurell’d.

§ Sable Horror. In the private volume, Horror stalking.

Thee to irradiate with meridian ray;
Hours splendid as the past may still be thine,
And bless thy future as thy former day.

* Charles II.

This is an historical fact. A violent tempest occurred immediately subsequent to the death or interment of Cromwell, which occasioned many disputes † Hours splendid, &c. In the private volume and the first edition between his partisans and the cavaliers: both interpreted the circumstance Hos of Idleness, the stanza ended with the following lines:

into divine interposition; but whether as approbation or condemnation, we eave to the casuist of that age to decide. I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the subject of my poem.

"Fortune may smile upon a future line,
And Heaven restore an e er cloudless day.”

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