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Could I repose upon the breast
Which once my warmest wishes blest-
"Tis long since I beheld that eye
As some lone bird, without a mate,
I look around, and cannot trace
And I will cross the whitening foam,
I go-but wheresoe'er I flee,
There's not an eye will weep for me;
To think of every early scene,
Of what we are, and what we've been, Would whelm some softer hearts with woe
But mine, alas! has stood the blow;
Yet still beats on as it begun,
And never truly loves but one.
And who that dear loved one may be
Is not for vulgar eyes to see,
I've tried another's fetters too,
"T would soothe to take one lingering view,
And bless thee in my last adieu;
For him that wanders o'er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone, Yet still he loves, and loves but one.
But, since life at most a jest is,
Great and small things, Bick or well, at sea or shore; While we're quaffing,
Let's have laughing
Who the devil cares for more?
Some good wine! and who would lack it, Even on board the Lisbon Packet?
LINES IN THE TRAVELLERS' BOOK AT ORCHOMENUS.
IN THIS BOOK A TRAVELLER HAD WRITTEN:
"FAIR Albion smiling, sees her son depart To trace the birth and nursery of art: Noble his object, glorious is his aim:
He comes to Athens, and he writes his name."
BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THE FOLLOWING
THE modest bard, like many a bard unknown,
His name would bring more credit than his verse.
I've seen my bride another's bride,-
And made my cheek belie my heart,
But let this pass-I'll whine no more
EPISTLE TO MR. HODGSON,
IN ANSWER TO SOME LINES EXHORTING HIM TO BE CHEERFUL AND TO " BANISH CARE."
Newstead Abbey, Oct. 11, 1811.
"OH! banish care"-such ever be
Perchance of mine, when wassail nights
WHEN Thurlow this damn'd nonsense sent, (I hope I am not violent,)
Nor men nor gods knew what he meant. 2.
And since not ev'n our Rogers' praise
To common sense his thoughts could raiseWhy would they let him print his lays?
To me, divine Apollo, grant-O! Hermilda's first and second canto, I'm fitting up a new portmanteau;
And thus to furnish decent lining,
TO LORD THURLOW.
"I lay my branch of laurel down, Then thus to form Apollo's crown Let every other bring his own."
Lord Thurlow's Lines to Mr Ragn 1.
"I lay my branch of laurel down."
Thou "lay thy branch of laurel down!"
And, were it lawfully thine own,
Does Rogers want it most, or thou? Keep to thyself thy wither'd bough,
Or send it back to Doctor DonneWere justice done to both, I trow, He'd have but little, and thou-none. 2.
"Then thus to form Apollo's crown." A crown! why, twist it how you will, Thy chaplet must be foolscap still. When next you visit Delphi's town,
Inquire among your fellow-lodgers, They'll tell you Phoebus gave his crown, Some years before your birth, to Rogers. 3.
"Let every other bring his own.” When coals to Newcastle are carried,
And owls sent to Athens as wonders, From his spouse when the Regent's unmarried, Or Liverpool weeps o'er his blunders; When Tories and Whigs cease to quarrel, When Castlereagh's wife has an heir, Then Rogers shall ask us for laurel, And thou shalt have plenty to spare.
Singing "Glory to God" in a spick and span stanza, The like (since Tom Sternhold was choked) never
The papers have told you, no doubt, of the fusses, The fêtes, and the gapings to get at these Russes,Of his Majesty's suite, up from coachman to Het.
And what dignity decks the flat face of the great
I saw him, last week, at two balls and a party,For a prince, his demeanour was rather too hearty. You know, we are used to quite different graces,
The Czar's look, I own, was much brighter and brisker But then he is sadly deficient in whisker;
And wore but a starless blue coat, and in kersey-mere breeches whisk'd round, in a waltz with the
Who, lovely as ever, seem'd just as delighted With majesty's presence as those she invited.
But now to my letter-to yours 't is an answer-
And for Sotheby's Blues have deserted Sam Rogers,
THE DEVIL'S DRIVE.
[Of this strange, wild poem, which extends to about two hundred and fifty lines, the only copy that Lord Byron, I believe, ever wrote, he presented to Lord Holland. Though with a good deal of vigour and imagination, it is, for the most part, rather clumsily executed, wanting the point and condensation of those clever verses of Mr. Coleridge which Lord Byron, adopt ing a notion long prevalent, has attributed to Professor Porson. There are, however, some of the stanzas of "The Devil's Drive" well worth preserving.]-Moore.
THE Devil return'd to hell by two,
And he staid at home till five;
Where he dined on some homicides done in ragout,
And a rebel or so in an Irish stew,
I walk'd in the morning, I'll ride to-night;
"And what shall I ride in ?" quoth Lucifer, then"If I follow'd my taste, indeed,
I should mount in a wagon of wounded men,
But these will be furnish'd again and again,
To see my manor as much as I may,
"I have a state-coach at Carlton House, A chariot in Seymour-place;
But they 're lent to two friends, who make me amends
By driving my favourite pace:
And they handle their reins with such a grace.
I have something for both at the end of their race. 4.
"So now for the earth to take my chance."
And rested his hoof on a turnpike road.
But first as he flew, I forgot to say,
To look upon Leipsic plain;
And so sweet to his eye was its sulphury glare, And so soft to his ear was the cry of despair,
That he perch'd on a mountain of slain:
For the field ran so red with the blood of the dead,
But the softest note that soothed his ear
And she look'd to heaven with that frenzied air
A child of famine dying:
And the carnage begun, when resistance is done, And the fall of the vainly flying!
The Devil first saw, as he thought, the Mail,
So instead of a pistol he cock'd his tail,
"Aha," quoth he, "what have we here?
And bade him have no fear,
But be true to his club, and staunch to his rein, His brothel, and his beer;
"Next to seeing a lord at the council board, I would rather see him here."
The Devil gat next to Westminster.
And he turn'd "to the room" of the Commons; But he heard, as he proposed to enter in there, That "the Lords" had received a summons; And he thought as a "quondam aristocrat," He might peep at the peers, though to hear them were flat;
And he walk'd up the house so like one of our own,
That they say that he stood pretty near the throne. 18.
He saw the Lord Liverpool seemingly wise,
TO LADY CAROLINE LAMB. AND say'st thou that I have not felt, Whilst thou wert thus estranged from me? Nor know'st how dearly I have dwelt On one unbroken dream of thee? But love like ours must never be, And I will learn to prize thee less; As thou hast fled, so let me flee,
And change the heart thou may'st not bless They'll tell thee, Clara! I have seem'd, Of late, another's charms to woo, Nor sigh'd, nor frown'd, as if I deem'd That thou wert banish'd from my view. Clara! this struggle-to undo
What thou hast done too well, for me This mask before the babbling crewThis treachery-was truth to thee!
I have not wept while thou wert gone,
To thine-to thee-to man-to God,
But since my breast is not so pure,
Not thee-oh! dearest as thou art!
And I will seek, yet know not how,
But thou must aid me in the task.
And nobly thus exert thy power;
A heart, whose hope has long been dead.
Deceive no more thyself and me,
Deceive not better hearts than mine;
A pang beyond this fleeting breath,
Such thoughts are guilt-such guilt is death.
ADDRESS INTENDED TO BE RECITED AT THE
WHO hath not glow'd above the page where fame
Tis Heaven-not man-must charm away the woe
ON THE PRINCE REGENT'S RETURNING THE
WHEN the vain triumph of the imperial lord,
We repent-we abjure- - we will break from our Whom servile Rome obey'd, and yet abhorr'd,
Gave to the vulgar gaze each glorious bust,
Search for thy form, in vain and mute amaze,