« PreviousContinue »
The Devil gat next to Westminster,
And he turn'd to "the room" of the Commons; But he heard, as he purposed to enter in there,
That "the Lords" had received a summons;
The Lord Westmoreland certainly silly,
1 ["I cannot conceive how the Vault has got about; but so it is. It is too farouche; but truth to say, my sallies are not very playful." Lord Byron to Mr. Moore, March 12. 1814.]
And he saw the tears in Lord Eldon's eyes, Because the Catholics would not rise,
In spite of his prayers and his prophecies; And he heard-which set Satan himself a staringA certain Chief Justice say something like swearing. And the Devil was shock'd — and quoth he, “I must For I find we have much better manners below: [go, If thus he harangues when he passes my border,
I shall hint to friend Moloch to call him to order."
Lines composed on the occasion of his Royal Highness the Prince Regent being seen standing between the coffins of Henry VIII. and Charles I., in the royal vault at Windsor.
FAMED for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, By headless Charles see heartless Henry lies; Between them stands another sceptred thingIt moves, it reigns-in all but name, a king:
Charles to his people, Henry to his wife,
Ah, what can tombs avail !-since these disgorge
STANZAS FOR MUSIC. 2
I SPEAK not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame : But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart. Too brief for our passion, too long for our peace Were those hours-can their joy or their bitterness [chain,
We repent we abjure-we will break from our
And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee,
ADDRESS INTENDED TO BE RECITED AT
WHO hath not glow'd above the page where fame
2 ["Thou hast asked me for a song, and I enclose you an experiment, which has cost me something more than trouble, and is, therefore, less likely to be worth your taking any in your proposed setting. Now, if it be so, throw it into the fire without phrase." -Lord Byron to Mr. Moore, May 10. 1814.]
FRAGMENT OF AN EPISTLE TO THOMAS MOORE. "WHAT say I?"-not a syllable further in prose; I'm your man "of all measures," dear Tom,here goes! Here goes, for a swim on the stream of old Time, On those buoyant supporters, the bladders of rhyme. If our weight breaks them down, and we sink in the flood,
We are smother'd, at least, in respectable mud,
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,
Who, lovely as ever, seem'd just as delighted
TO SARAH COUNTESS OF JERSEY, ON THE PRINCE REGENT'S RETURNING HER PICTURE TO MRS. MEE. 2
WHEN the vain triumph of the imperial lord,
If thus, fair Jersey, our desiring gaze
2 ["The newspapers have got hold (I know not how) of the Condolatory Address to Lady Jersey on the picture-abduction by our Regent, and have published them with my name, too, smack-without even asking leave, or inquiring whether or no! D-n their impudence, and d-n every thing. It has put me out of patience, and so I shall say no more about it."-Byron Letters.]
ought to have felt now, but could not-set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands. I wrote them with a view to your setting them, and as a present to Power, if he would accept the words, and you did not think yourself degraded, for once in a way, by marrying them to music. I don't care what Power says to secure the property of the song, so that it is not complimentary to me, nor any thing about 'condescending' or noble author' - both vile phrases,' as Polonius says."- Lord Byron to Mr. Moore.]
2 ["I can forgive the rogue for utterly falsifying every line of mine Ode which I take to be the last and uttermost stretch of human magnanimity. Do you remember the story of a certain abbé, who wrote a treatise on the Swedish constitution, and proved it indissoluble and eternal? Just as he had corrected the last sheet, news came that Gustavus the Third had destroyed this immortal government. Sir,' quoth the abbe, the King of Sweden may overthrow the constitution, but not my book!! I think of the abbé, but not with him. Making every allowance for talent and most consummate daring, there is, after all, a good deal in luck or destiny. might have been stopped by our frigates, or wrecked in the Gulf of Lyons, which is particularly tempestuous-or-a
ODE FROM THE FRENCH.
We do not curse thee, Waterloo !
There 't was shed, but is not sunk
With that youthful chief competed ?
And thou, too, of the snow-white plume! +
Such as he of Naples wears,
Who thy blood-bought title bears. Little didst thou deem, when dashing
On thy war-horse through the ranks Like a stream which burst its banks, While helmets cleft, and sabres clashing,
thousand things. But he is certainly fortune's favourite.". Byron Letters, March, 1815.]
3 See Rev. chap. viii. v. 7, &c. "The first angel sourded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood," &c. 8. "And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea; and the third part of the sea became blood," &c. v. "And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp; and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters." v. 11. And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter."
Once - as the Moon sways o'er the tide,
Of the eagle's burning crest—
Fell, or fled along the plain;
O'er glories gone the invaders march,
But, her hand on her sword,
With Capet or Napoleon!
But in equal rights and laws,
Hearts and hands in one great cause.
With their breath, and from their birth,
FROM THE FRENCH. Must thou go, my glorious Chief, 2 Sever'd from thy faithful few ? Who can tell thy warrior's grief,
Maddening o'er that long adieu ? Woman's love, and friendship's zeal, Dear as both have been to me What are they to all I feel,
With a soldier's faith for thee?
Idol of the soldier's soul!
First in fight, but mightiest now : Many could a world control;
Thee alone no doom can bow. By thy side for years I dared
Death; and envied those who fell, When their dying shout was heard,
Blessing him they served so well. 3 Would that I were cold with those, Since this hour I live to see; When the doubts of coward foes
Scarce dare trust a man with thee, Dreading each should set thee free! Oh! although in dungeons pent, All their chains were light to me, Gazing on thy soul unbent.
Would the sycophants of him
Now so deaf to duty's prayer, Were his borrow'd glories dim,
In his native darkness share? Were that world this hour his own, All thou calmly dost resign, Could he purchase with that throne
Hearts like those which still are thine?
My chief, my king, my friend, adieu !
As his foes I now implore:
Every peril he must brave; Sharing by the hero's side
His fall, his exile, and his grave.
ON THE STAR OF "THE LEGION OF HONOUR."
FROM THE FRENCH.
STAR of the brave!-whose beam hath shed
Such glory o'er the quick and dead—
Why rise in Heaven to set on Earth?
who had been exalted from the ranks by Buonaparte. He clung to his master's knees; wrote a letter to Lord Keith, entreating permission to accompany him, even in the most menial capacity, which could not be admitted."
3" At Waterloo, one man was seen, whose left arm was shattered by a cannon ball, to wrench it off with the other, and throwing it up in the air, exclaimed to his comrades, Vive l'Empereur, jusqu'à la mort!' There were many other instances of the like: this, however, you may depend on as true."-Private Letter from Brussels.