Turn to the few in Ida's early throng, Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day, "Tis not enough, with other sons of power, Turn to the annals of a former day; Such were thy fathers; thus preserve their name; The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue, For me, in future, neither friend nor foe, To veil those feelings which perchance it ought, FRAGMENT. 1805. WRITTEN SHORTLY AFTER THE MARRIAGE OF MISS CHA WORTH. HILLS of Annesley! bleak and barren, Where my thoughtless childhood stray'd, How the northern tempests, warring, Howl above thy tufted shade! Now no more, the hours beguiling, 1805. 1["Thomas Sackville, Lord Buckhurst, was born in 1527. While a student of the Inner Temple, he wrote his tragedy of Gorboduc, which was played before Queen Elizabeth at Whitehall, in 1561. His tragedy, and his contribution of the Induction and legend of the Duke of Buckingham to the "Mirror for Magistrates," compose the poetical history of Sackville. The rest of it was political. In 1604, he was created Earl of Dorset by James I. He died suddenly at the council table, in consequence of a dropsy on the brain." CAMPBELL.] 2 [Charles Sackville, Earl of Dorset, was born in 1637, and died in 1706. He was esteemed the most accomplished man of his day, and alike distinguished in the voluptuous court of Charles II. and the gloomy one of William III. He behaved with considerable gallantry in the sea-fight with the Dutch in 1665; on the day previous to which he is said to have composed his celebrated song, To all you Ladies now at Land. His character has been drawn in the highest colors by Dryden, Pope, Prior, and Congreve.] shocked by the death of the Duke of Dorset. We were at school together, and there I was passionately attached to him. Since, we have never met, but once, I think, since 1805-and it would be a paltry affectation to pretend that I had any feeling for him worth the name. But there was a time in my life when this event would have broken my heart; and all I can say for it now is-that it is not worth breaking. The recollection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not, set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands"-Byron Letters, 1815.-The Verses referred to were those melancholy ones, beginning,-"There's not a joy the world can give like those it takes away."] 4 [The circumstances which lent so peculiar an interest to Lord Byron's introduction to the family of Chaworth, are sufficiently explained in the "Notices of his Life." The young lady herself combined." says Mr. Moore, "with the many worldly advantages that encircled her, much personal beauty, and a disposition the most amiable and attaching. 3 "I have just been, or rather ought to be, very much Though already fully alive to her charms, it was at this period GRANTA. A MEDLEY. Αργυρίαις λόγχαισι μάχου καὶ πάντα Κρατήσαις. 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; Then would I view each rival wight, Lo! candidates and voters lie3 All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number: A race renown'd for piety, Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber. Lord Hindeed, may not demur; They know the Chancellor has got 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. Who sacrifices hours of rest To scan precisely metres attic; Or agitates his anxious breast In solving problems mathematic: (1801) that the young poet seems to have drunk deepest of that fascination whose effects were to be so lasting; six short weeks which he passed in her company being sufficient to lay the foundation of a feeling for all life. With the summer holidays ended this dream of his youth. He saw Miss ChaWorth once more in the succeeding year, and took his last farewell of her on that hill near Annesley, which, in his poem of 'The Dream,' he describes so happily as 'crowned with a peculiar diadem.'" In August, 1805, she was married to John Musters. Esq.; and died at Wiverton Hall, in February, 1832, in consequence, it is believed, of the alarm and danger to which she had been exposed during the sack of Colwick Hall by a party of rioters from Nottingham. The unfortunate lady had been in a feeble state of health for several years, and she and her daughter were obliged to take shelter from the violence of the mob in a shrubbery, where, partly from cold, partly from terror, her constitution sustained a shock which it wanted vigor to resist.] The Diable Boiteux of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection. [On the death of Mr. Pitt, in January, 1806, Lord Henry Petty and Lord Palmerston were candidates to represent the University of Cambridge in parliament.] 3 [In the private volume, the fourth and fifth stanzas ran thus: "One on his power and place depends, The other on-the Lord knows what! Fellows are sage reflecting men," &c.] 4 [Edward-Harvey Hawke, third Lord Hawke. His lordship died in 1824.] Seale'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. The Latin of the schools is of the canine species, and not very intelligible. 7 The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled triangle. 8 On a saint's day, the students wear surplices in chapel. ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW ON THE HILL. Oh! mihi præteritos referat si Jupiter annos.-VIRGIL. YE scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection Embitters the present, compared with the past; Where science first dawn'd on the powers of reflection, And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last ;1 Where fancy yet joys to trace the resemblance Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; How welcome to me your ne'er fading remembrance, Which rests in the bosom, though hope is denied! 1["My school-friendships were with me passions, (for I was always violent ;) but I do not know that there is one which has endured (to be sure some have been cut short by death) till now."-Byron Diary, 1821.] 2 ["At Harrow I fought my way very fairly. I think I lost but one battle out of seven."-Ibid.] 3 [They show a tomb in the churchyard at Harrow, commanding a view over Windsor, which was so well known to be his favorite resting-place, that the boys called it "Byron's Tomb;" and here, they say, he used to sit for hours, wrapped up in thought.] 4 [For the display of his declamatory powers, on the speech-days, he selected always the most vehement passages; such as the speech of Zanga over the body of Alonzo, and Lear's address to the storm.] TO M OH! did those eyes, instead of fire, The skies might claim thee for their own: Therefore, to guard her dearest work, Within those once celestial eyes These might the boldest sylph appal, But who can dare thine ardent gaze? "Tis said that Berenice's hair In stars adorns the vault of heaven; But they would ne'er permit thee there, Thou wouldst so far outshine the seven. 5 Mossop, a cotemporary of Garrick, famous for his performance of Zanga. ["My grand patron, Dr. Drury, had a great notion that I should turn out an orator, from my fluency, my turbulence, my voice, my copiousness of declamation, and my action." -Byron Diary.] [In the private volume the two last stanzas ran"I thought this poor brain, fever'd even to madness, Of tears, as of reason, forever was drain'd; But the drops which now flow down this bosom of sadness, Convince me the springs have some moisture retain'd "Sweet scenes of my childhood! your blest recollection Has wrung from these eyelids, to weeping long dead, In torrents the tears of my warmest affection, The last and the fondest I ever shall shed."] Oh memory! thou choicest blessing TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE. THIS faint resemblance of thy charms, Though strong as mortal art could give, My constant heart of fear disarms, Revives my hopes, and bids me live. Here I can trace the locks of gold Which round thy snowy forehead wave, The cheeks which sprung from beauty's mould, The lips which made me beauty's slave. Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye, Whose azure floats in liquid fire, Must all the painter's art defy, And bid him from the task retire. Here I behold its beauteous hue; But where's the beam so sweetly straying,* Which gave a lustre to its blue, Like Luna o'er the ocean playing? Sweet copy far more dear to me, Than all the living forms could be, Save her who placed thee next my heart. ocal, station in life,-and that she had long light golden hair, "of which," says Mr. Moore, "the Poet used to show a lock, as well as her picture, among his friends."] 4 [In the private volume But where's the beam of soft desire ? |