II.

Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light

Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew :
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,
His cypress, the garland of Love's last adieu!

LINES.

1

ADDRESSED TO THE REV. J. T. BECHER, ON HIS ADVISING

THE AUTHOR TO MIX MORE WITH SOCIETY.

I.

DEAR BECHER, you tell me to mix with mankind;
I cannot deny such a precept is wise;

But retirement accords with the tone of my mind:
I will not descend to a world I despise.

i. To the Rev. J. T. Becher.-[P. on V. Occasions.]

1. [The Rev. John Thomas Becher (1770-1848) was Vicar of Rumpton and Midsomer Norton, Notts., and made the acquaintance of Byron when he was living at Southwell. To him was submitted an early copy of the Quarto, and on his remonstrance at the tone of some of the verses, the whole edition (save one or two copies) was burnt. Becher assisted in the revision of P. on V. Occasions, published in 1807. He was in 1818 appointed Prebendary of Southwell, and, all his life, took an active interest and prominent part in the administration of the poor laws and the welfare of the poor. (See Byron's letters to him of February 26 and March 28, 1808.)]

2.

Did the Senate or Camp my exertions require,

Ambition might prompt me, at once, to go forth; When Infancy's years of probation expire,

Perchance, I may strive to distinguish my birth.

3.

The fire, in the cavern of Etna, conceal'd,

Still mantles unseen in its secret recess;

At length, in a volume terrific, reveal'd,

No torrent can quench it, no bounds can repress.

4.

Oh! thus, the desire, in my bosom, for fame

Bids me live, but to hope for Posterity's praise. Could I soar with the Phoenix on pinions of flame, With him I would wish to expire in the blaze.

5.

For the life of a Fox, of a Chatham the death,

What censure, what danger, what woe would I brave! Their lives did not end, when they yielded their breath, Their glory illumines the gloom of their grave.".

6.

Yet why should I mingle in Fashion's full herd? Why crouch to her leaders, or cringe to her rules? Why bend to the proud, or applaud the absurd? Why search for delight, in the friendship of fools?

i. Oh! such the desire.-[P. on V. Occasions.]

ii.

VOL. I.

the gloom of the grave.-[P. on V. Occasions.]

I

7.

I have tasted the sweets, and the bitters, of love,
In friendship I early was taught to believe;
My passion the matrons of prudence reprove,

I have found that a friend may profess, yet deceive.

8.

To me what is wealth ?-it may pass in an hour,
If Tyrants prevail, or if Fortune should frown:
To me what is title ?-the phantom of power;
To me what is fashion ?-I seek but renown.

9.

Deceit is a stranger, as yet, to my soul;

I, still, am unpractised to varnish the truth: Then, why should I live in a hateful controul? Why waste, upon folly, the days of my youth?

1806.

ANSWER TO SOME ELEGANT VERSES SENT BY
A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, COMPLAIN-
ING THAT ONE OF HIS DESCRIPTIONS
WAS RATHER TOO WARMLY DRAWN.

"But if any old Lady, Knight, Priest, or Physician,
Should condemn me for printing a second edition;
If good Madam Squintum my work should abuse,
May I venture to give her a smack of my muse?
ANSTEY'S New Bath Guide, p. 169.

CANDOUR Compels me, BECHER! to commend

"

The verse, which blends the censor with the friend;

Your strong yet just reproof extorts applause
From me, the heedless and imprudent cause ; i
For this wild error, which pervades my strain,"
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 controul,
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 labour'd lines, in chilling numbers flow,
To paint a pang the author ne'er can know !
The artless Helicon, I boast, is 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,

i.

the heedless and unworthy cause.—[P. on V. Occasions.]

ii. For this sole error.-[P. on V. Occasions.]

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 her bosom with unholy fires,

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,
Their sneers or censures, I alike despise.

November 26, 1806.

ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.1

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

I.

NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once-resplendent dome!
Religion's shrine! repentant HENRY'S 2 pride!

i. The light effusions of an amorous boy.—[P. on V. Occasions.] ii. Hours of Idleness.

1. As one poem on this subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no intention of inserting the following. It is now added at the particular request of some friends.

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