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ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT|When Health, affirighted, spreads her rosy wing, PUBLIC SCHOOL.*
And flies with every changing gale of spriug;
Not to the aching frame alone confined, WHERE are those honors, Ida! once your own, Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind: When Probust fill'd your magisterial throne ?
What grisly forms, the spectre-train of wo, As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace, Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow, Hail'd a barbarian in her Cæsar's place,
With Resignation wage relentless strife, So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate,
While Hope retires appall’d and clings to life. And seat Pomposusi where your Probus sate. Yet less the pang when through the tedious hour Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul,
Remembrance sheds around her genial power, Pomposus holds you in his harsh control;
Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given, Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd,
When love was bliss, and Beauty formed our'heaven With florid jargon, and with vain parade ;
Or, dear to youth, portrays each childish scene, With noisy nonsense, and new-angled rules, |Those fairy bowers, where all in turn have been. Such as were ne'er before enforced in schools. As when through clouds that pour the summer Mistaking pedantry for learning's laws,
storm He governs, sanction’d but by self-applause. The orb of day unveils his distant form, With him the same dire fate attending Rome, Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain, Ill-fated Ida! soon must stamp your doom : And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain; Like her o'erthrown, forever lost to fame,
Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams, No trace of science left you but the name.
The sun of memory, glowing through my dreams,
Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze,
The past confounding with the present day.
Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought, “I cannot but remember such things were,
Which still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought: And were most dear to me."
My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields, il WHEN slow Disease, with all her host of pains.
And roams romantic o'er her airy fields :
Scenes of my youth, developed, crowd to view, Chills the warm tide which flows along the veins;
To which I long have bade a last adieu ! * These lines were only printed in the private volume. Lord Byron most Seats of delight, inspiring youthful themes; aucerely regretted having written this and the subsequent attack on Dr. Friends lost to me for aye, except in dreams : Butler, contained in the poem called Childish Recollections. A reconciliation (Some who in marble prematurely sleep, took place between them before Lord Byron's first departure for Greece; and Mr. Moore informs us that, "not content with this private atonement to Dr. Whose forms I now remember but to weep; Butler, it was Lord Byron's intention, had he published another edition of the Some who yet urge the same scholastic course Hours of Idleness, to substitute for the offensive verses against that gentleman,
Of early science, future fame the source; a frank avowal of the wrong he had been guilty of, in giving vent to them." Life of Byron, vol. i. p. 188.
Who, still contending in the studious race, † Probus, Dr. Drury.
In quick rotation fill the senior place. | Pomposis, Dr. Butler.
These with a thousand visions now unite, § This poem was published in the private volume ; and, with many additions and corrections, in the first editions of Hours of Idleness; but was after
Hours of Idleness ; but was after- To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight. wards suppressed. I In the private volume the poem opened with the following lines :
IDA! bless'd spot, where Science holds her reign, “ Hence I thou unvarying song of varied loves, Which youth comiends, maturer age reproves ;
How joyous once I join'd thy youthful train! Which every rhyming barı repeats by rote,
Bright in idea gleams thy lofty spire,
Again I mingle with thy playful choir;
Our tricks of mischief, every childish game,
Unchanged by time or distance, seem the same; Some other Damon will your charms rehearse ;
Through winding paths along the glade, I trace
The social smile of every welcome face;
My wonted haunts, my scenes of joy and wo,
Each early boyish friend, or youthful foe,
Our feuds dissolved, but not my friendship pass'd:
I bless the former, and forgive the last.
Hours of my youth! when, nurtured in my breast,
To love a stranger, friendship made me bless'd :Weary of love, of life, devour'd with spleen,
Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth, I rest a perfect Timon, nut nineteen.
When every artless bosom throbs with truth;
Untaught by worldly wisdom how to feign,
And check each impulse with prudential rein; Would I could add, remembrance of you too!
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, Ere yet my cup, empoison'd, Hows with tears;
No dear-bought knowledge purchased by deceit , Still rules my senses with tyrannic sway, The past confounding with the present day.
* The next fifty-six lines, to Alas ! in vain I check the maddening thought : It still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought :
“ Here first remember'd be the joyous band," Mv soci to Fancy's," &c., &c., &c., as at line twenty-nine.
were added in the first edition of Hours of Idleness.
Mypocrisy, the gift of lengthen’d years,
With him, for years, we search'd the classic page, Matured by age, the garb of prudence wears. | And fear'd the master, though we loved the sage; When now the boy is ripen'd into man,
Retired at last, his small yet peaceful seat His careful sire chalks forth some wary plan; From learning's labor is the blest retreat. Instructs his son from candor's path to shrink, * Pomposus fills his magisterial chair; Smoothly to speak, and cautiously to think; Pomposus governs,--but, my muse, forbear: Still to assent, and never to deny
Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot;
His name and precepts be alike forgot :t
ș High, through those elms, with hoáry branches
The vale where rural Nature claims her praise;
To her awhile resigns her youthful train,
In scatter'd groups each favor'd haunt pursue;
Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force,
Where Brent's cool waves in limpid current's stray,
And arbors shade them from the summer heat;
Some rough and thoughtless stranger placed in view,
With frolic quaint their antic jests expose, She sometimes trifled in a lighter strain,
And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes; 'Tis past, and thus she will not sin again,
Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray
Tradition treasures for a future day:
fought, Here first remember'd be the joyous band,
And here we earn'd the conquest dearly bought;
And here renew'd the wild tumultuous flight."
While thus our souls with early passions swell, tNor shrunk beneath the upstart pedant's frown, In lingering tones resounds the distant bell; Or all the sable glories of his gown;
Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er,
No splendid tablets grace her simple hall,
But ruder records fill the dusky wall;
* Pomposus fills his magisterial chair; To IDA now, alas.! forever lost.
Pomposus governs, &c.
intention to give the following turn to this passage :. Or if my muşe a pedant's portrait drew,
" Another fills his magisterial chair; Poriposus' virtues, &c.
Reluctant Ida owns a stranger's care ; Mr. Moore informs us, that instead of this passage, Lord Byron meant tu
Oh! may like honors crown his future name, isert,
If such his virtues, such shall be his fame." « If once my muse a harsher portrait drew,
Moore's Life of Byron, vol. i. p. 189.
† His name, &c. Instead of this line, the private volume reads,
“Soon shall his shallow precepts be forgot." Life of Byron, vol. i. p. 188.
I This alludes to a character printed in a former private edition for the † Instead of the present couplet, the private volume has the following four
perusal of some friends, which, with many other pieces, is withheld from the Lines :
present volume.“ To draw the attention of the public to insignificance, " Careless to soothe the pedant's furious frown,
would be deservedly reprobated; and another reason, though not of equal 8 carcely respecting his majestic gown;
consequence, may be given in the following couplet :-
“ Satire or sense, alas ! can Sposus feel?
Who breaks a butterfly upon the wheel ? " This most able and excelleut man retired from his situation in March,
POPE.--Prologue to the Satires. 1805, after having resided thirty-five years at Harrow; the last twenty as
tol head-master; an office he held with equal honor to himself, and advantage to
The ensuing hundred and twenty-two lines, to
9 The ensuing hund the very extensive school over which he presided. Panegyric would here be
" Alonzo ! best and dearest of my friends," nuperfluous : it would be useless to enumerate qualifications which were never
are not found in the private volume, but were introduced in the firpt edition or doubted. A considerable contest took place between three rival candidates
Hours of Idleness. för his vacant chair : of this I can only say, Si mea, cum vestris valuissent vota, Pelasgi !
• Those pieces are reprinted in the second edition. The character alluded Non foret ambiguus tanti certaminis Hæres.
I to is contained in the preceding poem.
There, deeply carved, behold! each tyro's name The tender guidance of a father's care:
Can rank, or e'en a guardian's name, supply
For this can wealth or title's sound atone, These shall survive alike when son and sire
Made by a parent's early loss my own: Beneath one common stroke of fate expire : What brother springs a brother's love to seek? Perhaps their last memorial these alone,
What sister's gentle kiss has prest my cheek? Denied in death a monumental stone,
For me how dull the vacant moments rise, Whilst to the gale in mournful cadence wave To no fond bosom link'd by kindred ties ! The sighing weeds that hide their nameless grave. Oft in the progress of some fleeting dream And here my name, and many an early friend's, Fraternal smiles collected round me seem; Along the wall in lengthen'd line extends.
While still the visions to my heart are prest, Though still our deeds amuse the youthful race, The voice of love will murmur in my rest : Who tread our steps, and fill our former place, I hear—I wake-and in the sound rejoice; Who young obey'd their lords in silent awe,
I hear again,--but, ah! no brother's voice.
While these a thousand kindred wreaths entwine,
What then remains ? in solitude to groan,
Thy name ennobles him who thus commends:
Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list
Oft have we drain'd the font of ancient lore;
Though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more.
Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,
Or plunging from the green declining shore,
Anxious to please, of pleasing half afraid;
Candid and liberal, with a heart of steel I saw and join'd again the joyous throng;
In danger's path, though not untaught to feel.
Still I remember in the factious strife
High poised in air the massy weapon hung,
A cry of terror burst from every tongue; Retrace the circuit of my former flight?
Whilst I, in combat with another foe,
Fought on, unconscious of th' impending blow,
† The following four lines of the private volumes were omitted in the
Hours of Idleness :-
" Could aught inspire me with poetic Nre,
For thee alone I'd strike the hallow'd lyre; Those hearts, dear Ida, have I found in thee
But to some abler hand the task I waive, A home, a world, a paradise to me.
Whose strains immortal may outlive the grave.* Stern death forbade my orphan youth to share 1 Pliant. Private volume, lusty.
Your arm, brave boy, arrested his career
Domestic happiness will stamp thy fate; Forward you sprung, insensible to fear;
Sacred to love, unclouded e'er by hate; Disarm’d and baffled by your conquering hand, The world admire thee, and thy friends adore; The grovelling savage roll'd upon the sand : * Ambition's slave alone would toil for more. * An act like this can simple thanks repay ? Or all the labors of a grateful lay?
Now last, and nearest of the social band, Oh no! whene'er my breast forgets the deed, See honest, open, generous CLEON stand ; That instant, Davus, it deserves to bleed.
With scarce one speck to cloud the pleasing scene
No vice degrades that purest soul serene. Lycus! on me thy claims are justly great:
On the same day our studious race begun, Thy milder virtues could my muse relate,
On the same day our studious race was run; To thee alone, unrivall’d, would belong
Thus side by side we pass'd our first career, The feeble efforts of my lengthen'd song.t
Thus side by side we strove for many a year; Well canst thou boast to lead in senates fit
At last concluded our scholastic life, A Spartan firmness with Athenian wit:
We neither conquer'd in the classic strife; Though yet in embryo these perfections shine, As speakers † each supports an equal name, Lycus! thy father's fame will soon be thine. And crowds allow to both a partial fame : Where learning nurtures the superior mind, To soothe a youthful rival's early pride, What may we hope from genius thus refined ! Though Cleon's candor would the palm divide, When time at length matures thy growing years, Yet candor's self compels me now to own How wilt thou tower above thy fellow peers! Justice awards it to my friend alone. Prudence and sense, a spirit bold and free, With honor's soul, united beam in thee.
Oh! friends regretted, scenes for ever dear,
Remembrance hails you with her warmest tear. Shall fair EURYALUS pass by unsung?
Drooping, she bends o’er pensive Fancy's urn From ancient lineage, not unworthy, sprung: To trace the hours which never can return; What though one sad dissension bade us part, § Yet with the retrospection loves to dwell, That name is yet embalm’d within my heart; And soothe the sorrows of her last farewell Yet at the mention does that heart rebound, Yet greets the triumph of my boyish mind, And palpitate responsive to the sound.
As infant laurels round my head were twined ; Envy dissolved our ties, and not our will:
When Probus' praise repaid my lyric song, We once were friends,—I'll think we are so still. Or placed me higher in the studious throng, A form unmatch'd in nature's partial mould, Or when my first harangue received applause, A heart untainted, we in thee behold:
His sage instruction the primeval cause, Yet not the senate's thunder thou shalt wield, What gratitude to him my soul possest, Nor seek for glory in the tented field;
While hope of dawning honors fill'd my breast! To minds of ruder texture these be given
|| For all my humble fame, to him alone Thy soul shall nearer soar its native heaven. Haply in polish'd courts might be thy seat,
* 6 Where is the restless fool would wish for more?"-Private volume. But that thy tongue could never forge deceit;
† This alludes to the public speeches delivered at the school where the
author was educateil. The courtier's supple bow and sneering smile,
I The six concluding lines of this passage were given as follows in the The flow of compliment, the slippery wile,
private volume :Would make that breast with indignation burn,
" As speakers, each supports a rivill name, And all the glittering snares to tempt thee spurn.
Though neither seeks to damn the other's fame.
With youthful candor, we the palm diviile; * An act like this, &c. In the private volume, the last four lines of this
Yet canilor's self compels me now to own character were as follows:
Justice awards it to my friend alone" “ Thus did you save that life I scarcely prize
$ " Yet in retrospection finds relief,
And revels in the luxury of grief."-Private volume.
| From this place to the enıl, the copy of the poem, ils printed in the That instant, Davus, it deserves to bleed."
Hours of Idleness, differs entirely from that in the private volume, which ? In the private volume, we find the following lines concluding the charac- contains and concludes thus:der of Lycus; and the remainder of the passage relating to him was origi.
6 When, yet a novice in the mimic art, cally given as descriptive of a friend entitled Clarus, of whom no mention is
I feign'd the transports of a vengeful heart; made in the last published copy of the poem :-
When as the Royal Slave 1 trou the stage,
To vent in Zanga more than mortal rage;
The praise of Probus made me feel more proud
Than all the plaudits of the listning crowd.
6 Ah ! vain endeavor in this chilelish strain
To soothe the woes of which I thus complain.
What can avail the fruitless loss of time,
To measure sorrow in a jingling rhyme !
No social solace from a friend is near,
And heartless strangers clrop no feeling tear.
I seek not joy in woman's sparkling eye:
The smiles of cauty cannot check the sigli.
Adieu ! thou world ! thy pleasure's still a dream,
Thy virtue but a visionary theme;
The years of vice on years of folly roll,
Till griuning death assigns the distant goal,
Where all are hastening to the cread aboile,
To meet the judgment of a righteous God;
Mix'd in the concourse of the thoughtless throng,
A mourner midst of mirth, I glide along 1
A wretched, isolated, gloomy thing,
Curst by reflection's deep-corruiling sting i
The praise is due, who made that fame my own. Ah, no! amid the gloomy calm of age
You turn with faltering hand life’ş varied page; These young effusions of my early days,
Peruse the record of your days on earth, To him my muse her noblest strain would give : Unsullied only where it marks your birth; The song might perish, but the theme must live. Still lingering pause above each checker'd leaf, Yet why for him the needless verse essay ?
And blot with tears the sable lines of grief; His honor'd name requires no vain display: Where Passion o'er the theme her mantle threw; By every son of grateful Ida blest,
Or weeping Virtue sigh'd a faint adieu ; It finds an echo in each youthful breast;
But bless the scroll which fairer words adorn, A fame beyond the glories of the proud,
Traced by the rosy finger of the morn, Or all the plaudits of the venal crowd.
When Friendship bow'd before the shrine of truth,
And Love,* without his pinion smiled on youth Ida, not yet exhausted is the theme, Nor closed the progress of my youthful dream. How many a friend deserves the grateful strain, What scenes of childhood still unsung remain, Yet 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,
WRITTEN BY MONTGOMERY, AUTHOR OF "TH. While, future hope and fear alike unknown,
WANDERER IN SWITZERLAND," &c., &c., ENI think with pleasure on the past alone;
TITLED "THE COMMON LOT."
MONTGOMERY! true, the common lot
Of mortals lies in Lethe's wave: IDA! still o'er thy hills in joy preside,
Yet some shall never be forgot
Some shall exist beyond the grave.
“Unknown the region of his birth,” That tear perhaps the fondest which will flow
The hero i rolls the tide of war; O’er their last scene of happiness below.
Yet not unknown his martial worth,
Which glares a meteor from afar.
His joy or grief, his weal or wo,
Perchance may 'scape the page of fame; Are swept for ever from this busy world;
Yet nations now unborn will know
The record of his deathless name.
The patriot's and the poet's frame
Must share the common tomb of all; Say can ambition's fever'd dream bestow
Their glory will not sleep the same;
That will arise, though empires fall.
The lustre of a beauty's eye
Assumes the ghastly stare of death; (For glittering baubles are not left to boys,)
The fair, the brave, the good must die, Recall one scene so much beloved to view
And sink the yawning grave beneath.
Once more the speaking eye revives,
Still beaming through the lover's strain;
For Petrarch's Laura still survives:
She died, but ne'er will die again.
The rolling seasons pass away,
And Time, untiring, waves his wing;
Whilst honor's laurels ne'er decay,
But bloom in fresh unfading spring.
All, all must sleep in grim repose,
Collected in the silent tomb;
The old and young, with friends and foes,
Festering alike in shrouds, consume.
. "L'Amitié est l'Amour sans ailes " is a French proverb. Thus crawling on with many a reptile vile,
t Only printed in the private volume. My heart is bitter, though my cheek may smile :
No particular hero is here alluded to. The exploits of Bayard, Nemour, No more with foriner bliss my heart is glad ;
Edward the Black Prince, and, in more modern times, the fame of Murte Hope yields to angvish, and my soul is sad :
borough, Frederick the Great, Count Saxe, Charles of Sweden, &c., ar From fond regret no future joy can save;
familiar to every historical reader, but the exact place of their birth kan R membrance slumbers only in the grave."
Ito a very small proportion of their admirers.