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Romance! disgusted with deceit,

Far from thy motley court I fly, Where Affectation holds her seat,

And sickly Sensibility ;
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 forever gone, Who once could glow with equal fire,

But bends not now before thy throne.

Vainly the dotard mends her prudish pace,
Outstripp'd 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 victin shower.
Oh! how I hate the perveless, 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 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,
Whose downcast eye disdains the wanton leer,
Firm in her virtue's strength, yet not serere-
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.

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 aliko despise.

November 26, 100.

Ye genial nymphs, whose ready tears

On all occasions swistly flow; Whose bosoins heave with fancied fears,

With fancied flames and phrensy 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.

For me,

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.

ANSWER TO SOME ELEGANT VERSES

SENT BY A FRIEND TO THE AUTHOR, COMPLAINING THAT

ONE OF HIS DESCRIPTIONS WAS RATHER TOO WARMLY DRAWN.

ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY. “It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all their deeds."--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 pillard state; Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,

Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.

“But if any old lady, knight, priest, or physician,
Should condemn me for printing a second edition;
Il good Madam Squintum my work should abuse,
May I venture to give her a smack of my muse ?"

New Bath Guide
Candor 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.
For this wild error which pervades my strain,
I sue for pardon,-must I suo in vain ?
The wise sometimes frorn 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:

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, ordaind to die,

A votive pilgrim in Judea's clime.

[The Rev. John Becher, prebendary of Southwell, the well-known author of several philanthropic plans for the amelioration of the condition of the poor, In this gentleman the youthful poet found not only an honest and judicious critic, but a sincere friend. To his care the superintendence of the second edition of “Hours of Idleness," during its progress through a country press, was intrusted, and at his suggestion several corrections and omissions were made. **1 inust return you," says Lord Byron, in a letter written in February, 1808, "my best acknowledgments for the interest you have taken in me and my poetical bantlings, and

I shall ever be proud to show how much I esteem the ser and the adviser.'')

? As one poem on this subject is already printed, the ai thor had, originally, no intention of inserting the foll: Lg It is now added at the particular request of soue friends

3 Henry II. founded Newslead soon after the murder Thomas 'a Becket. (See ante, p. 388, note.)

* This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, "The Wild Huntsman;" synonymous with vassal.

6 The red cross was the badge of the crusaders.

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Vain is each threat or supplicating prayer;

He drives them exiles from their bless'd abode, To roam a dreary world in deep despair

No friend, no home, no refuge, but their God. Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain,

Shakes with the martial music's novel din!
The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign,

High crested banners wave thy walls within.
Of changing sentinels the distant hum,
The murth of feasts, the clang of burnish'd arms,
The braying trumpet and the hoarser drum,

C'nite in concert with increased alarms.

Here Desolation holds her dreary court:

What satellites declare her dismal reign !
Shricking their dirge, ill-omen'd birds resort,

To fit their vigils in the hoary fune.

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An abbey once, a regal fortresg* now,
Encircled by insulting rebel powers,
War's dread machines o erhang thy threatening brow,

And dart destruction in sulphureous showers.
Ah rain defence! the hostile traitor's siege,

Though oft repulsed, by guíle o'ercomes the brave; His througiug foes oppress the faithful liege, | Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave.

The legal rulers now resumes the helm,

Ilo guides through gentle seas the prow of state ;
Hope cheers, with wonted smiles, the peaceful realm,

And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied hate.

As "gloaming," the Scottish word for twilight, is far James, Duke of York, afterwards the unhappy James II. ;
! We pertical, and has been recommended by many eini the latter had a principal share in many actions.
Pero literary inen, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters Lucius Cary, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accom-
lo Burns, I have ventured to use it on account of its harinony. plished man of his age, was killed at the battle of Newbury,
The priory was dedicated to the Virgin.

charging in the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment of cavalry. At the dissolution of the monasteries, Henry VIII. be 7 This is an historical fact. A violent tempest occurred Sorel Nenstead Abbey on Sir John Byron. (See anté, p. immediately subsequent to the death or interment of Crom

well, which occasioned many disputes between his partisans Newslead sustained a considerable siege in the war be and the cavaliers: both interpreted the circumstance into tween Charles I. and his parliament.

uivine interposition ; but whether as approbation or conLord Byron, and luis brother Sir William, held high demnation, we leave for the casuists of that age to decide. Colmands in the royal army. The former was general in I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the sudezei in Ireland, lieutenant of the Tower, and governor to ject of my poem.

& Charles II.

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The gloomy tenants, Newstead! of thy cells,

Yet are his tears no emblem of regret : Howling, resign their violated nest;

Cherish'd affection only bids them flow. Again the master on his tenure dwells,

Pride, hope, and love forbid him to forget, Enjoy'd, from absence, with enraptured zest.

But warm his bosom with impassion d glow. Vassals, within thy hospitable pale,

Yet he prefers thee to the gilded domes Loudly carousing, bless their lord's return;

Or gewgaw grottoes of the vainly great ; Culture again adorns the gladdening vale,

Yet lingers 'mid thy dump and mossy tombs, And matrons, once lamenting, cease to mourn. Nor breathes a murmur 'gainst the will of late." A thousand songs on tuneful echo float,

Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine,
Unwonted foliage muntles o'er the trees;

Thee to irradiate with meridian ray ;
And hark! the horns proclaim a mellow note, Hours splendid as the past may still be thine,

The hunters' cry hangs lengthening on the breeze. And bless thy future as thy former day.
Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake :
What fears, what anxious hopes, attend the chase!

CHILDISH RECOLLECTIONS.
The dying stag seeks refugo in the Lake;'
Exulting shouts announce the finish'd race.

“I cannot but remember such things were,

And were most dear to me." Ah happy days ! too happy to endure !

When slow Disease, with all her host of pains, Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew :

Chills the warm tide which flows along the veins; No splendid vices glitter'd to allure;

When Health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing, Their joys were many, as their cares were few.

And flies with every changing gale of spring;

Not to the aching frame alone confined, From these descending, sons to sires succeed; Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind:

Time steals along, and Death uprears his dart; What grisly forms, the spectre-train of wo, Another chief impels the foaming steed,

Bid shuddering Nature shrink beneath the blow, Another crowd pursue the panting hart.

With Resignation wage relentless strife,

While Hope retires appallid, and clings to life. Newstead! what saddening change of scene is thine! Yet less the pang when, through the tedious hour Thy yawning arch betokens slow decay!

Remembrance sheds around her genial power, The last and youngest of a noble line

Calls back the vanish'd days to rapture given, Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway. When love was bliss, and Beauty form’d our heaven ;

Or, dear to youth, portrays each childish scene, Deserted now,

he scans thy gray worn towers ; Those fairy bowers, where all in turn have been. Thy vaults, where dead of feudal ages sleep; As when through clouds that pour the summer storm Thy cloisters, pervious to the wintry showers; The orb of day unveils his distant form, These, these he views, and views them but to Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain, weep.

And dimly twinkles o'er the watery plain;

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! (During the lifetime of the fifth Lord Byron, there was found in inis lake--where it is supposed to have been thrown for concealment by the inonks-a large brass eagle, in the body of which, on its being sent to be cleaned, was discovered a secret aperture, concealing within it a number of ancient documents connected with the rights and privileges of the foundation. At the sale of the old Lord's effecis, in 1776, this eagle was purchased by a watchmaker of Nottingham; and it now forms, through the liberality of Sir Richard Kaye, an appropriate ornament of the fine old church of Southwell.]

? ("Come what may," wrote Lord Byron to his mother, in March, 180.), Newsiead and I stand or fall together. I have now lived on the spot; I have lixed iny heart upon it; and no pressure. preseni or future, shall induce me to barier the last restige of our inheritance I have that pride within me which will enable me to support difficulties. I can endure privations: but could I obtain, in exchange for Newstead Abbey, the first fortune in the country, I would reject the proposition. Set your mind it ease on ihat score; I feel like a man of honor, and I will not sell Newstead.")

:[" We cannot," says the Critical Review for September, 1807, “but hall, with something of prophetic rapture, the hope conveyed in the closing stanza

Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine,'" &c.) 4 [The reader who turns from this Elegy to the stanzas descriptive of New stead Abbey an Ithe surrounding scenery, in the tbirteenth canto of Don Juan, cannot fail to reinark how frequently the leading thoughts in the two pieces are the same; or to be delighted and instructed, in comparing the juvenile sketch with the bold touches and mellow coloring of the masier's picture.)

61 These verses were composed while Lord Byron was suffering under severe illness and depression of spirits. "I was laid,” he says, “ on my back, when that schoolboy thing

was written, or rather, dictated-expecting to rise no more, my physician having taken his sixteenth fee." In the private volume the poem opened with the following lines :

“Hence! thou unvarying song of varied loves,

Which youth commends, maturer age reproves;
Which every rhymning bard repeats by role,
By thousands echo'd to the self-sampe note!
Tired of the dull unceasing, copious strain,
My soul is panung to be free again.
Farewell! ye nyinphs propitious to my verse.
Sone other Damon will your charms rehearse ;
Some other paint his pangs, in hope of bliss,
Or dwell in rapture on your nectar'd kiss.
Those beauties, grateful to my ardent sight,
No more entrance my senses in delight;
Those bosoms, formd of animated snow,
Alike are tasteless, and unseeing now.
These to some happier lover I resign-
The niemory of those joys alone is mine.
Censure no more shall brand my humble name,
The chuld of passion and the fool of faine.
Weary of love, of life, devour'd with spleen,
I rest a perfect Timon, not nineteen.
World ! I renounce thee! all my lope 's o'ercast:
One sigh I give thee, but that sigh 's the last.
Friends, foes, and fernales, now ulike adieu:
Would I could add remembrance of you leo!
Yet though the future dark and cheerless gleans,
The curse of memory, hovering in my dreams,
Depicts with glowing pencil all those years,
Ere yet my cup, impoisun'd, fiow'd with tears;
Still rules my senses with tyrannic sway,
The past confounding with the present day.

" Alas! in vain I check the maddening thought ;
It still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought :
My soul to Fancy's," &c. &c., as at line 29.)

Thus, while the future dark and cheerless gleams,
The sun of memory, glowing through my dreams,
Though sunk the radiance of his former blaze,
To scenes far distant points his paler rays ;
Stil rules my senses with unbounded sway,
The past confounding with the present day.

When now the boy is ripen'd into man,
His careful sire chalks forth some wary plan ;
Instructs his son from candor's path to shrink,
Smoothly to speak, and cautiously to think;
Still to assent, and never to deny-
A patron's praise can well reward the lie :
And who, when Fortune's warning voice is heard,
Would lose his opening prospects for a word?
Although against that word his heart rebel,
And truth indignant all his bosom swell.

Ott does my heart indulge the rising thought, Which still recurs, unlook'd for and unsought; My soul to Fancy's fond suggestion yields, And roams romantic o'er her airy fields: Serpes of my youth, developed, crowd to view, To which I long have bade a last adieu ! Sats of delight, inspiring youthful themes; Firuds lost to me for aye, except in dreams; Sone who in marble prematurely sleep, Whose forms I now remember but to weep; Sone who yet urge the same scholastic course Of early science, future fame the source ; Who, still contending in the studious race, la quick rotation fill the senior place. These with a thousand visions now unite, To dazzle, though they please, my aching sight.? In! bless'd spot, where Science holds her reign, How joyous once I join'd thy youthful train ! Bright in idea gleams thy losty spire, Again I mingle with thy playful choir; Our tricks of mischief, every childish game, Cachanged by time or distance, seem the saine ; 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 fends 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 ;Friendship, the dear peculiar bond of youth, When every artlesz bosom throbs with truth; l'ntanght by worldly wisdom how to feign, And check each impulse with prudential rein ; When all we feel, our honest souls discloseIn love to friends, in open hate to foes; No varnish'd tales the lips of youth repeat, No dear-bought knowledge prirchased by deceit. Hypocrisy, the gift of lengthen’d years, Matured by age, the garb of prudence wears.

Away with themes like this! not mine the task From flattering fiends to tear the hateful mask ; Let keener bards delight in satire's sting; My fancy soars not on Detraction's wing: Once, and but once, she aim'd a deadly blow, To hurl defiance on a secret foe; But when that foe, from feeling or from shame, The cause unknown, yet still to me the same, Warn`d by some friendly hint, perchance, retired, With this submission all her rage expired. From dreaded pangs that seeble foo to save, She hush'd her young resentment, and forgave; Or, if my muse a pedant's portrait drew, Pomposus"? virtues are but known to fow; I never feard the young usurper's nod, And he who wields must sometimes feel the rod. If since on Granta's failings, kuown to all Who share the converse of a college hall, She sometimes trifled in a lighter strain, "Tis past, and thus she will not sin again, Soon must her early song forever cease, And all may rail when I shall rest in peace.

Here first remember'd be the joyous band, Who haild me chief, obedient to command ; Who join'd with me in every boyish sportTheir first adviser, and their last resort ; Nor shrunk beneath the upstart pedant's frown, Or all the sable glories of his gown ;Who, thus transplanted from his father's schoolUnfit to govern, ignorant of ruleSucceeded him, whom all unite to praise, The dear preceptor of my early days; Probus, the pride of science, and the boast, To Ipa now, alas! forever lost. With him, for years, we search'd the classic page, And fear’d the master, though wo loved the sage:

"The next fifty-six lines, to

" Here first remember'd be the joyous band," Here added in the first edition of Hours of Idleness.)

* [Dr. Batler, then head-master of Harrow school. Had LU Beron published another edition of these poems, it appears, fruin a loose sheet in his handwriting, to have been Es intention, justead of the passage beginning—"Or, if my muse a pedant's portrait drew," to insert"If once my muse a harsher portrait drew, Warra with her wrongs, and deem'd the likeness true, By cooler judgment taught, her fauits she owns,

With noble minds a fault confess'd, atones.") (When Dr. Drury retired, in 1805, three candidates presented themselves for the vacant chair, Messrs. Drury, Evans, and Butler. "On the first movement to which this Coatest gave rise in the school, young Wildman,” says Horore, “was at the head of the party for Mark Drury, while Brron held himself aloof from any. Anxious, however, to base him as an ally, one of the Drury faction said to Wildman-Byron, I know, will not join, because he does not Case to act second to any one ; but, by giving up the etersbip to him, you may at once secure him.” This Wildman accordingly did, and Byron took the command.]

' Irstead of this couplet, the private volume has the following four lines :

" Careless to soothe the pedant's furious frown,

Scarcely respecting his majestic gown ;
By which, in vain, he gain'd a borrow'd grace,

Adding new terror to his sneering face."] 5 Dr. Drury. This most able and excellent man retired from his situation in March, 1805, after having reside i thirtyfive years at Harrow; the last twenty as head masier: an office he held with equal honor to himself and advantage to the very extensive school over which he presiiled. Panegyric would here be superfluous: it would be useless to enumerate qualifications which were never doubtel. A considerable contest took place between three rival candidates for his vacant chair : of this I can only say,

Si mea cum vestris valuissent vota, Pelasgi!

Non foret ambiguus tanti certaminis hares. [Such was Byron's parting eulogy on Dr. Drury. It may be interesting to see by the side of it the Doctor's own account of his pupil, when first comınitted to his care :-"I took," says the Doctor, “my young disciple into my study, and endeavored to bring him forward by inquiries as 'n his former amusements, employments, and associates, but with little or no effect ; and I soon found that a wild mountain colt had been submitted to my managemeni. But there was mind in his eye. His inauner and temper soon convinced me, that he might be led by a silken string to a point, rather than by a cable ;-and on that principle I incted")

Retired at last, his small yet peaceful seat,

And here my name, and many an early friend's, From learning's labor is the bless d retreat.

Along the wall in lengthen d line extends. Pomposus fills his magisterial chair;

Though still our deeds amuse the youthful race, Ponposus governs,—but, my muse, forbear:'

Who tread our steps, and fill our former place, Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot;

Who young obey'd their lords in silent awe, His name and precepts be alike forgot!

Whose nod commanded, and whose voice was law; No more his mention shall my verse degrade, And now, in turn, possess the reins of power, To him my tribute is already paid.

To rule the little tyrants of an hour :

Though, sometimes, with the tales of ancient day, High, throngh those elms, with hoary branches They pass the dreary winter's eve away, crown'd,

“ And thus our former rulers stemm'd the tide, Fair Ipa's bower adorns the landscape round; And thus they dealt the combat side by side ; There Science, from her favor'd scat, surveys Just in this place the mouldering walls the y scaled, The vale whero rural Nature claims her praise ; Nor bolts nor bars against their strength avail'd; To her awhile resigns her youthful train,

Here Probus came, the rising fray to quell, Who move in joy, and dance along the plain ;

And here he falter'd forth his last farewell; In scatter'd groups each favor'd haunt pursue ; And here one night abroad they dared to roam, Repeat old pastimes, and discover new;

While bold Pomposus brately stay'd at home;" Flush'd with his rays, beneath the noontide sun, While thus they speak, the hour must soon arrive, In rival bands, between the wickets run,

When names of these, like ours, alone survire : Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force, Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelm Or chase with nimble feet its rapid course.

The faint remembrance of our fairy realm. But these with slower steps direct their way, Where Brent's cool waves in limpid currents stray ; Dear honest race ! though now we meet no more, While yonder few search out some green retreat, One last long look on what we were beforeAnd arbors shade them from the summer heat : Our first kind greetings, and our last adienOthers again, a pert and lively crew,

Drew tears from eyes unused to weep with you. Some rough and thoughtless stranger placed in view, Through splendid circles, fashion's gaudy world, With frolic quaint their antic jests expose,

Where folly's glaring standard waves unfuri'd, And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes;

I plunged to drown in noise my fond regret Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray

And all I sought or hoped was to forget. Tradition treasures for a future day:

Vain wish! if chance some well-remember'd face, “ 'Twas here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought, Some old companion of my early race, And here we earn’d the conquest dearly bought; Advanced to claim his friend with honest joy, Here have we fled before superior might,

My eyes, my heart, proclaim'd me still a boy ; And here renew'd the wild tumultuous fight.”

The glittering scene, the fluttering groups around, While thus our souls with early passions swell, Were quite forgotten when my friend was found: In lingering tones resounds the distant bell;

The smiles of beauty-(for, alas! I've known Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er,

What 'tis to bend before Love's inighty throne) And Learning beckons from her temple's door. The smiles of beauty, though those smiles were dear, No splendid tablets grace her simple hall,

Could hardly charm me, when that friend was deas: But ruder records fill the dusky wall;

My thoughts bewilderd in the fond surprise, There, deeply carved, behold! each tyro's name

The woods of Ipa danced before my eyes; Secures its owner's academic fame;

I saw the sprightly wand'rers pour along, Here mingling view the names of siro and son I saw and join'd again the joyous throng ; The one long graved, the other just begun:

Panting, again I traced her lofty grove,
These shall survive alike when son and sire

And friendship’s feelings triumphed over love."
Beneath one common stroke of fate expire:?
Perhaps their last memorial these alone,

Yet, why should I alone with such delight,
Denied in death a monumental stone,

Retrace the circuit of my former flight? Whilst to the gale in mournful cadence wave

Is there no cause beyond the common claim The sighing weeds that hido their nameless grave. Endear'd to all in childhood's very name?

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i [To this passage, had Lord Byron published another falls far short of the page in which he records an acculental edition of Hours of Idleness, it was his intention to give the meeting with Lord Clare, on the road between Imola following turn :

Bologna in 1821. “This meeting," he says, "annbulate! “ Another fills his magisterial chair ;

for a moment all the years between the present time and the Reluctant Ida owns a stranger's care ;

days of Harrow. It was a new and inexplicable feeling.!! Oh! may like honors crown his future name :

rising from the grave, to me, Clare too was much agitate) If such his virtues, such shall be his fame.'']

--more in appearance than was myself; for I conid ieel hins

heart beat to his fingers' ends, unless, indeed, it was the pa se ? [During a rebellion at Harrow, the poet prevented the schoolroom from being burnt down, by pointing out to the

of my own which made me think so. We were but five min

utes together, and on the public road; but I hardly reelect boys the names of their fathers and grandfathers on the

an hour of my existence which could be weighed atalwalls.)

them."- We inay also quote the following interesting sedan | Lord Byron elsewhere thus describes his usual course iences of Madame Guiccioli:- In 1992, (says shit,) a k* of life while at Harrow-"always cricketing, rebelling, days before leaving Pisa, we were one evening sealed in 1.8 rowing, and in all manner of mischiefs." One day, in a fit garden of the Palazzo Lanfranchi. At this moment a serta of defiance, he tore down all the gratings from the window

announced Mr. Hobhouse. The shght shade of melanchoy of the hall; and when called upon by Dr. Butler to say why diffused over Lord Byron's face gave instant place to the he had committed this violence, answered, with ster cool

liveliest joy; but it was so great, that it almost deprised ha ness, “ because they darkened the room."]

of strength. A fearful paleness came over his cheeks, ani 4 ( This description of what the young poet felt in 1806, on his eyes were filled with tears as he embraced his friend encountering in the world any of his former schoolfellows, his emotion was so great that he was forced to sit dowa"]

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