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I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies—
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces. 6
I loved a love once, fairest among women;
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her—
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man;
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces. 12
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces— 18
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed;
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR (1775-1864) ROSE AYLMER”
Ah what avails the sceptred race,
What every virtue, every grace!
Rose Aylmer, whom these wakeful eyes
A night of memories and of sighs
- LEIGH HUNT (1784-1859) To THE GRAsshopPER AND THE CRICKETt
Green little vaulter in the sunny grass, Catching your heart up at the feel of June, Sole voice that’s heard amidst the lazy noon, When even the bees lag at the summoning brass;
* Rose, a daughter of Baron Aylmer, and a youthful companion of Landor, died in India in
f written in competition with Keats, whose sonnet may be seen on p. 492.
§ This is a specimen of the half gay, half grave vers de société of which Praed was a master. Teignmouth is a watering-place in Devonshire. The various places named "belong to the locality. The Ness is a promontory. The Den is a Fo formed by a sand-bank between the own and the sea. aldon is a range of hills: Shaldon, a village just across the river Teign : Dawlish, another seaside resort three miles away. As for the other allusions, Sir Thomas Lawrence was a famous Fo painter of that date (1829); National Schools (line 38) had lately been established at various places by a national society for the education of the poor: “Captain Rock" was a fictitious name signed to public notices by one of the Irish insurgents of 1822 : “Hock” is a kind of wine —Hochheimer; a “Blue” is a “blue-stocking” —a woman affecting literature and politics.
You'll find us all changed since you vanished;
And I’ll tell you the rest at the Ball. 48
You'll meet all your beauties;–the Lily,
You'll dance, just for once, at our Ball. 60
But out on the world!—from the flowers
That ever you danced at our Ball. 72
You once could be pleased with our ballads—
THE SILENT TOWER OF BOTTREAUf
Tintadgel bells ring o'er the tide,
But why are Bottreau's echoes still?
Should echo on the blast. 16
The ship rode down with courses free,
The pilot heard his native bells
His bell must ring at last. 32
“Thank God, thou whining knave, on land,
Boomed heavy on the blast. 40
Uprose that sea! as if it heard
* “The rugged heights that line the sea-shore in the neighborhood of Tintadgel Castle and Church [on the coast of Cornwall] are crested with towers. Among these, that of Bottreau, or, as it is now written, Boscastle, is without bells. The silence of this wild and , lonely churchyard on festive or solemn occasions is not a little striking. On enquiry I was told that the bells were once shipped for , this church, but that when the vessel was within #t of the tower the blasphemy of her captain was punished in the manner related in the Poem. The bells, they told me, still lie in the bay, and announce by strange sounds the approach of a storm,”—R. S. Hawker.
“Most readers,” says the Manuscript of Mr. Pattieson, “must have witnessed with delight the joyous burst which attends the dismissing of a village-school on a fine summer evening. The buoyant spirit of childhood, repressed with so much difficulty during the tedious hours of discipline, may then be seen to explode, as it were, in shout, and song, and frolic, as the little urchins join in groups on their playground, and arrange their matches of sport for the evening. But there is one individual who partakes of the relief afforded by the moment of dismission, whose feelings are not so obvious to the eye of the spectator, or so apt to receive his sympathy. I mean the teacher himself, who, stunned with the hum, and suffocated with the closeness of his school-room, has spent the whole day (himself against a host) in controlling petulance, exciting indifference to action, striving to enlighten stupidity, and labouring to soften obstinacy; and whose very powers of * Old Mortality is a story of the rising of the Scotch Covenanters about 1677-9 against the English church and throne. Scott had once met, in the churchyard of Dunnottar, one Robert, Paterson, familiarly known as “old Mortality,” and he chooses to make him responsible for the substance of the tale. It is one of the “Tales, of My Landlord”; and the Landlord of Wallace Inn, Mr. Cleishbottom the schoolmaster, and the manuscript of
his assistant, the frail Mr. Pattieson, are all a part of the fictitious background,