Francis Hodgson

"' ... many a dayIn these, to me, deserted towers.'(Newstead, October 11, 1811.)

"'When stretched on fever's sleepless bed.'(At Patras, about September, 1810.)

"'Death for theePrepared a light and pangless dart.'

"'And oft I thought at Cynthia's noon,When sailing o'er the AEgean wave,"Now Thyrza gazes on that moon"--Alas, it gleam'd upon her grave!'(One struggle more, and I am free.)

"'The pledge we wore--I wear it still,But where is thine?--Ah! where art thou?'

"'Verses Addressed by Lord Byron in the year 1812 to the Hon. Mrs.George Lamb.

"'The sacred song that on my earYet vibrates from that voice of thineI heard before from one so dear,'Tis strange it still appears divine.But oh! so sweet that look and toneTo her and thee alike is given;It seemed as if for me aloneThat both had been recalled from Heaven.And though I never can redeemThe vision thus endeared to me,I scarcely can regret my dreamWhen realized again by thee.'"

"Tears o'er my parted Thyrza's grave I shed,Affection's fondest tribute to the dead.Break, break my heart, o'ercharged with bursting woeAn empty offering to the shades below!Ah, plant regretted! Death's remorseless power,With dust unfruitful checked thy full-blown flower.Take, earth, the gentle inmate to thy breast,And soft-embosomed let my Thyrza rest."

y(a) The kiss that left no sting behindSo guiltless Passion thus forbore;Those eyes bespoke so pure a mind,/ plead \That Love forgot to { } for more.\ ask /

(b) The kiss that left no sting behind,So guiltless Love each wish forebore;Those eyes proclaimed so pure a mind,That Passion blushed to smile for more.--

aaIf judging from my present painThat rest alone----.--If rest alone is in the tomb.--

ajFrom pangs that tear----.--Such pangs that tear----.--

amIt would not be, so hadst not thouWithdrawn so soon----.--

aoLike freedom to the worn-out slave.--But Health and life returned and gave,A boon 'twas idle then to give,Relenting Health in mocking gave.--

"Spare me the whispering, crowded room,The friends who come and gape and go," etc.

'Peramabili consobrinae

'Ah! Maria!pvellarvm elegantissima!ah Flore venvstatis abrepta,vale!hev qvanto minvs estcvm reliqvis versariqvam tuimeminisse.'"

arAre mingled with the Earth.--Were never meant for Earth.--

atI will not ask where thou art laid,Nor look upon the name.--

beThe flower in beauty's bloom unmatchedIs still the earliest prey.--The rose by some rude fingers snatched,Is earliest doomed to fade.--

bgBut night and day of thine are passed,And thou wert lovely to the last;Destroyed----.--

biO how much less it were to gain,All beauteous though they be.--

"Blest omens of a happy reign,In swift succession hourly rise,Forsaken friends, vows made in vain--A daughter's tears, a nation's sighs."

"The party consisted of the Princess Charlotte, the Duchess ofYork, the Dukes of York and Cambridge, Lords Moira, Erskine,Lauderdale, Messrs. Adams and Sheridan.

(which I myself saw from a house-top in Covent-garden) was atWestminster Bridge, from the reflection on the Thames."--Letter to Lord

bnAs flashing far the new Volcano shone/ meteors \And swept the skies with { } not their own.\ lightnings /

/ sadly \or, As flashed the volumed blaze, and { } shone\ ghastly /The skies with lightnings awful as their own.--or, As glared each rising flash, and ghastly shoneThe skies with lightnings awful as their own.--

bo/ lava of the \Till slowly ebbed the { } wave.\ spent volcanic // the burning \or, Till ebb'd the lava of { } wave,\ that molten /And blackening ashes mark'd the Muse's grave.--

bqFar be from him that hour which asks in vainTears such as flow for Garrick in his strain;or, Far be that hour that vainly asks in turn/ crowned his \Sad verse for him as { } Garrick's urn.--\ wept o'er /

brSuch are the names that here your plaudits sought,When Garrick acted, and when Brinsley wrote.--

"Nay, lower still, the Drama yet deploresThat late she deigned to crawl upon all-fours.When Richard roars in Bosworth for a horse,If you command, the steed must come in course.If you decree, the Stage must condescendTo soothe the sickly taste we dare not mend.Blame not our judgment should we acquiesce,And gratify you more by showing less.Oh, since your Fiat stamps the Drama's laws,Forbear to mock us with misplaced applause;That public praise be ne'er again disgraced,/ brutes to man recall \From { } a nation's taste;\ babes and brutes redeem /Then pride shall doubly nerve the actor's powers,When Reason's voice is echoed back with ours."

"The past reproach let present scenes refute,Nor shift from man to babe, from babe to brute."

"When energising objects men pursue,What are the prodigies they cannot do?A magic edifice you here survey,Shot from the ruins of the other day!As Harlequin had smote the slumberous heap,And bade the rubbish to a fabric leap.Yet at that speed you'd never be amazed,Knew you the zeal with which the pile was raised;Nor even here your smiles would be represt,Knew you the rival flame that fires our breast,Flame! fire and flame! sad heart-appalling sounds,Dread metaphors that ope our healing wounds--A sleeping pang awakes--and----But awayWith all reflections that would cloud the dayThat this triumphant, brilliant prospect brings,Where Hope reviving re-expands her wings;Where generous joy exults, where duteous ardour springs.

If mighty things with small we may compare,This spirit drives Britannia's conquering car,Burns in her ranks and kindles every tar.Nelson displayed its power upon the main,And Wellington exhibits it in Spain;Another Marlborough points to Blenheim's story,And with its lustre, blends his kindred glory.

In Arms and Science long our Isle hath shone,And Shakespeare--wondrous Shakespeare--reared a throneFor British Poesy--whose powers inspireThe British pencil, and the British lyre--Her we invoke--her Sister Arts implore:Their smiles beseech whose charms yourselves adore,These if we win, the Graces too we gain--Their dear, beloved, inseparable train;Three who their witching arts from Cupid stoleAnd three acknowledged sovereigns of the soul:Harmonious throng! with nature blending art!Divine Sestetto! warbling to the heartFor Poesy shall here sustain the upper part.Thus lifted gloriously we'll sweep along,Shine in our music, scenery and song;Shine in our farce, masque, opera and play,And prove old Drury has not had her day,Nay more--so stretch the wing the world shall cry,Old Drury never, never soared so high.'But hold,' you'll say, 'this self-complacent boast;Easy to reckon thus without your host.'True, true--that lowers at once our mounting pride;'Tis yours alone our merit to decide;'Tis ours to look to you, you hold the prizeThat bids our great, our best ambitions rise.A double blessing your rewards impart,Each good provide and elevate the heart.Our twofold feeling owns its twofold cause,Your bounty's comfort--rapture your applause;When in your fostering beam you bid us live,You give the means of life, and gild the means you give."

"Just as she quickens fuel into fire,

"'Remember thee,' nay--doubt it not--Thy Husband too may 'think' of thee!By neither canst thou be forgot,Thou false to him--thou fiend to me!

"'Remember thee'? Yes--yes--till FateIn Lethe quench the guilty dream.Yet then--e'en then--Remorse and HateShall vainly quaff the vanquished stream."

Genevra," were addressed to Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster.--See

bzResigning thee, alas! I lostJoys bought too dear, if bright with tears,Yet ne'er regret the pangs it cost.--

'My Life!' is still the name you give,Dear words! on which my heart had dotedHad Man an endless term to live.But, ah! so swift the seasons rollThat name must be repeated never,For 'Life' in future say, 'My Soul,'Which like my love exists for ever."

Byron wrote these lines in 1815, in Lady Lansdowne's album, atBowood.--Note by Mr. Richard Edgecombe, Notes and Queries, Sixth