To this is join'd the sacred song, The royal minstrel's hallow'd strain; Our choir would scarcely be excused, To such a set of croaking sinners. If David, when his toils were ended. Had heard these blockheads sing before him, In furious mood he would have tore 'em. The luckless Israelites, when taken Oh! had they sung in notes like these, They might have set their hearts at ease, But if I scribble longer now, The a soul will stay to read My pen is blunt, my ink is low; 'Tis almost time to stop, indeed. Therefore, farewell, Old Granta's spires! No more thy theme my muse inspires : 1806 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; 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! Again I revisit the hills where we sported. The streams where we swam, and the fields where we fought The school where, loud warn'd by the bell, we resorted, To pore o'er the precepts by pedagogues taught. Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd, Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd, I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded, Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep imprecation. I regarded myself as a Garrick revived.† Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! While fate shall the shades of the future unroll! But if, through the course of the years which await me. I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, "Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew!" 1806 TO M OH! did those eyes, instead of fire, For thou art formed so heavenly fair, That fatal glance forbids esteem. When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth, The skies might claim thee for their own; 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; Thou would'st so far outshine the seven. A cotemporary of Garrick, famous for his performance of Zanga- For did those eyes as planets roll, Thy sister-lights would scarce appear: E'en suns, which systems now control, Would twinkle dimly through their sphere. TO WOMAN. WOMAN! experience might have told me, Oh memory thou choicest blessing When join'd with hope, when still possessing "Woman, thy vows are traced in sand."* 1806 TO M. S. G. WHEN I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive; For in visions alone your affection can live, I rise, and it leaves me to weep. Then, Morpheus! envelope my faculties fast, Shed o'er me your languor benign; Should the dream of to-night but resemble the last, What rapture celestial is mine! They tell us that slumber, the sister of death, Mortality's emblem is given; To fate how I long to resign my frail breath, If this be a foretaste of heaven! Ah! frown not, sweet lady, unbend your soft brow Nor deem me too happy in this; If I sin in my dream, I atone for it now, Thus doom'd but to gaze upon bliss. The last line is almost a literal translation from a Spanish proverb.-B. 25 Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you may smile, When dreams of your presence my slumbers beguile, 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, Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye, 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. She placed it, sad, with needless fear, Lest time might shake my wavering soul, Unconscious that her image there Held every sense in fast control. Through hours, through years, through time, 'twill cheer In life's last conflict 'twill appear, TO LESBIA. LESBIA! since far from you I've ranged. Byron had "a passion for the name of Mary" Sixteen was then our utmost age, Two years have lingering past away, love I, that am guilty of love's treason; I do not, love! suspect your truth, With jealous doubt my bosom heaves not; No, no, my flame was not pretended; LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.* [As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden at Southwell, two ladies passing near the spot were alarmed by the sound of a bullet hissing near them; to one of whom the following stanzas were addressed the next morning.] DOUBTLESS, sweet girl! the hissing lead, Surely some envious demon's force, Yes! in that nearly fatal hour The ball obey'd some hell-born guide, Miss Houson. This word is used by Gray, in his poem to the Fatal Sisters "Iron sleet of arrowy shower Hurtles through the darken'd air."- B. |