Precepts of prudence curb, but can't control, No net to snare her willing heart is spread; November 26, 1806. ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY. (1) "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 (2) pride! Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloister'd tomb, Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide: Hail to thy pile! more honour'd in thy fall Than modern mansions in their pillar'd state; "I must 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 advice and the adviser."—L. E. To Mr. Becher, as we learn from Moore's Life, was presented the first copy of Lord Byron's early poetical effusions, printed for private circulation amongst his friends. The Reverend gentleman, in looking over its pages, among many things to commend and admire, as well as some almost too boyish to criticise, found one poem in which, as it ap peared to him, the imagination of the young bard had indulged itself in a luxuriousness of colouring beyond what even youth could excuse. Immediately, as the most gentle mode of conveying his opinion, he sat down and addressed to Lord Byron some expostulatory verses on the subject, to which the poetical "answer" now before the reader was as promptly returned by the noble poet, with, at the same time, a note in plain prose, to say that he felt fully the jus tice of his friend's censure, and that, rather than allow the poem in question to be circulated, he would instantly recall all the copies that had been sent out, and cancel the whole Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall, No mail-clad serfs (3), obedient to their lord, Their chief's retainers, an immortal band: But not from thee, dark pile! departs the chief; In thee the wounded conscience courts relief, Yes! in thy gloomy cells and shades profound A monarch bade thee from that wild arise, Sought shelter in the priest's protecting cowl. Nor raised their pious voices but to pray. Where now the bats their wavering wings extend, Years roll on years; to ages, ages yield; Abbots to abbots, in a line, succeed: Religion's charter their protecting shield Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed. One holy HENRY rear'd the gothic walls, And bade the pious inmates rest in peace; Another HENRY (7) the kind gift recalls, And bids devotion's hallow'd echoes cease. Vain is each threat or supplicating prayer; No friend, no home, no refuge, but their God. impression. On the very same evening, this prompt sacrifice was carried into effect. Mr. Becher saw every copy of the edition burned, with the exception of that which he retained in his own possession, and another which had been de spatched to Edinburgh, and could not be recalled.-P. E. (1) As one poem on this subject is already printed, the author had, originally, no intention of inserting the following. It is now added, at the particular request of some friends. (2) Henry II. founded Newstead soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket. [See ante, p. 3. c. I. note 2.-P. E.] (3) This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem, "The Wild Huntsman," as synonymous with vassal. (4) The red cross was the badge of the crusaders. (5) As "gloaming," the Scottish word for twilight, is far more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters to Burns, I have ventured to use it on account of its harmony. The priory was dedicated to the Virgin. At the dissolution of the monasteries, Henry VII. bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron. [See ante, p. 3. c. I. note 2.-P. E Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain, The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnish'd arms, An abbey once, a regal fortress (1) now, Encircled by insulting rebel powers, War's dread machines o'erhang thy threatening brow, Though oft repulsed, by guile o'ercomes the brave; The blood of traitors smears the purple plain; The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save. Trembling, she snatched him (2) from the unequal In other fields the torrent to repel; [strife, For nobler combats, here, reserved his life, To lead the band where godlike FALKLAND (3) fell. From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given, While dying groans their painful requiem sound, Far different incense now ascends to heaven, Such victims wallow on the gory ground. Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread, Hush'd is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre, At length the sated murderers, gorged with pray, And sable Horror guards the massy door. (1) Newstead sustained a considerable siege in the war between Charles I. and his parliament. (2) Lord Byron, and his brother Sir William, held high commands in the royal army. The former was general in chief in Ireland, lieutenant of the Tower, and governor to James, Duke of York, afterwards the unhappy James II.; the latter had a principal share in many actions. 3) Lucius Carey, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accomplished man of his age, was killed at the battle of Newbury, charging in the ranks of Lord Byron's regiment of cavalry. (4) This is an historical fact. A violent tempest occurred immediately subsequent to the death or interment of Cromwell, which occasioned many disputes between his partisans and the Cavaliers: both interpreted the circumstance into Here Desolation holds her dreary court: And Nature triumphs as the tyrant dies. With storms she welcomes his expiring groans; Whirlwinds, responsive, greet his labouring breath; Earth shudders as her caves receive his bones, Loathing (4) the offering of so dark a death. The legal ruler (5) now resumes the helm, He guides through gentle seas the prow of state; Hope cheers, with wonted smiles, the peaceful realm, And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied hate. The gloomy tenants, Newstead! of thy cells, Howling, resign their violated nest; Again the master on his tenure dwells, Enjoy'd, from absence, with enraptured zest. Vassals, within thy hospitable pale, Loudly carousing, bless their lord's return; And matrons, once lamenting, cease to mourn. The hunters' cry hangs lengthening on the breeze. Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake: What fears, what anxious hopes, attend the chase! The dying stag seeks refuge in the Lake; (6) Exulting shouts announce the finish'd race. Ah happy days! too happy to endure! Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew: No splendid vices glitter'd to allure; Their joys were many, as their cares were few. From these descending, sons to sires succeed; Time steals along, and Death uprears his dart; Another chief impels the foaming steed, Another crowd pursue the panting hart. Newstead! what saddening change of scene is thine! Now holds thy mouldering turrets in his sway. These, these he views, and views them but to weep. divine interposition; but whether as approbation or condemnation, we leave to the casuists of that age to decide. I have made such use of the occurrence as suited the subject of my poem. (5) Charles II. (6) During the lifetime of the fifth Lord Byron, there was found in this Lake-where it is supposed to have been thrown for concealment by the Monks- 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 effects. 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.-L. E. Yet are his tears no emblem of regret: Cherish'd affection only bids them flow. Or gewgaw grottos of the vainly great; Thee to irradiate with meridian ray;(2) Hours splendid as the past may still be thine, And bless thy future as thy former day.(3) CHILDISH RECOLLECTIONS.(4) "I cannot but remember such things were, WHEN Slow Disease, with all her host of pains, Gilds with faint beams the crystal dews of rain, (1) "Come what may," wrote Byron to his mother, in March 1809, "Newstead and I stand or fall together. I have now lived on the spot; I have fixed my heart upon it; and no pressure, present or future, shall induce me to barter the last vestige of our inheritance. I have that pride within me which will enable me to support difficulties. I can endure privations; bnt could I obtain, in exchange for Newstead Abbey, the first fortune in the country, I would reject the proposition. Set your mind at ease on that score; I feel like a man of honour, and I will not sell Newstead."-L. E. (2) "We cannot," said the Critical Review for September, 1807, "but hail with something of prophetic rapture, the hope conveyed in the closing stanza Haply thy sun, emerging, yet may shine, ete "-L. E. (3) The reader who turns from this Elegy to the stanzas descriptive of Newstead Abbey and the surrounding scenery, in the thirteenth canto of Don Juan, cannot fail to remark 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 colouring of the master's picture.-L. E. (4) 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 pri vate volume the poem opened with the following lines:"Hence! thon unvarying song of varied loves. Which youth commends, maturer age reproves; Still rules my senses with unbounded sway, Oft does my heart indulge the rising thought, Which every rhyming bard repeats by rote, (5) The next fifty-six lines to "Dere first remember'd be the joyous band," were added in the first edition of Hours of Idleness. — L. E. When now the boy is ripen'd into man, A patron's praise can well reward the lie: And who, when Fortune's warning voice is heard, Away with themes like this! not mine the task But when that foe, from feeling or from shame, And he who wields must sometimes feel the rod. Here first remember'd be the joyous band, (1) Dr. Butler, head-master of Harrow school. Had Lord Byron published another edition of these poems, it appears, from a loose sheet in his handwriting, to have been his inteation, instead of the passage beginning I to insert "Or if my muse a pedant's portrait drew," If once my muse a harsher portrait drew, says Warm with her wrongs, and deem'd the likeness true, By cooler judgment taught, her fault she owns,With noble minds a fault confess'd atones."-L E. (2) 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 contest gave rise in the school, young Wildman," Moore," was at the head of the party for Mark Drury, while Byron held himself aloof from any. Anxious, however, to bave him as an ally, one of the Drury faction said to Wildman- Byron, I know, will not join, because he does not eboose to act second to any one, but, by giving up the leader. ship to hira, you may at once secure him.'" This Wildman accordingly did, and Byron took the command.-L. E. (3) Instead of this couplet, the private volume has the | following four lines: -Careless to soothe the pedant's furions frown, (4) Dr. Drury This most able and excellent man retired from his situation in March, 1805, after having resided thirty PROBUS (4), the pride of science, and the boast, With him, for years, we search'd the classic page, High, through those elms, with hoary branches crown'd, Fair IDA's bower adorns the landscape round; ""T was here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought, five years at Harrow; the last twenty as head-master; an office he held with equal honour to himself and advantage to the very extensive school over which he presided. Panegyric would here be superfluous: it would be useless to enumerate qualifications which were never doubted. 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! [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 committed to his care:-"] took," says the Doctor, "my young disciple into my study, and endeavoured to bring him forward by inquiries as to his former amusements, employments, and associates, but with little or no effect; and I soon found that a wild moun. tain colt had been submitted to my management. But there was mind in his eye. His manner and temper soon convinced me, that he might be led by a silker string to a point, rather than by a cable;--and on that principle I acted."]-L. E. (5) To this passage, had Lord Byron published another edition of Hours of Idleness, it was his intention to give the following turn: "Another fills his magisterial chair; may like honours crown his future name: If such Lis virtues, such shall be his fame."-L. E. No splendid tablets grace her simple hall, Here mingling view the rames of sire and son- Dear honest race! though now we meet no more, One last long look on what we were before (1) During a rebellion at Harrow, the poet prevented the school room from being burnt down, by pointing out to the boys the names of their fathers and grandfathers on the walls.-L. E. (2) Lord Byron elsewhere thus describes his usual course of life while at Harrow:-"Always cricketing, rebelling, row. ing, and in all manner of mischiefs." One day, in a fit of defiance, he tore down all the gratings from the window of the hall; and when called upon by Dr. Butler to say why he had committed this violence, answered, with stern coolness, "because they darkened the room."-L. E. (3) This description of what the young poet felt in 1806, on encountering in the world any of his former schoolfellows, falls far short of the page in which he records an accidental meeting with Lord Clare, on the road between Imola and Bologna, in 1821. "This meeting," he says, "annihilated for a moment all the years between the present time and the days of Harrow. It was a new and inexplicable feeling, like rising from the grave, to me. Clare, too, was much agitated-more in appearance than was myself; for I could feel his heart beat to his fingers' ends, unless, indeed, it was the pulse of my own which made me think so. We were but five minutes together, and on the public road; but I hardly recollect an hour of my existence which could he weighed against them."-We may also quote the following interesting sentences of Madame Guiccioli :-" In 1822 (says she), a few days before leaving Pisa, we were one evening scated in the garden of the Palazzo Lanfranchi. At this moment a servant announced Mr. Hobhouse. The slight shade of melancholy diffused over Lord Byron's face gave instant place to the liveliest joy; but it was so great, that it almost deprived him of strength. A fearful paleness came over his cheeks, and his eyes were filled with tears as he embraced his friend: his emotion was so great that he was forced to sit down."-L. E. (4) In all the lives of Lord Byron hitherto published, the Our first kind greetings, and our last adieu- Advanced to claim his friend with honest joy, Yet, why should I alone with such delight Is there no cause beyond the common claim character of the poet's father has been alluded to in terms of unmitigated reprobation, for which the ascertained facts of his history afford but a slender pretext. He had, like his son, the misfortune of being brought up by a mother alone,- Admiral Byron, his father, being kept at a distance from his family by professional duties. His education was completed at a foreign military academy, not, in those days at least, a very favourable school; and from this, on receiving a commission in the Coldstream Guards, he was plunged, while yet a boy, into all the temptations to which a person of singular beauty, and manners of the most captivating grace, can expose the heir of a noble name in our luxurious metropolis. The unfortunate intrigue, which has been gravely talked of as marking his character with something like horror, occurred when he was hardly of age. At all events, as Captain Byron, who died in his thirty-fifth year, could have had no influence in determining the course of his son's education or pursuits, it is difficult to understand on what grounds his personal qualities have been made the theme of discussion, to say nothing of angry vituperation, either in Memoirs of Lord B. or Reviews of those Memoirs. Some unworthy reflections on the subject were hazarded in a biographical sketch of the noble Poet, prefixed to a French translation of one of his works, which appeared very shortly before he left Genoa for Greece; and the remarks which these drew from the son at the time will probably go far to soften the general impression respecting the father. As the letter which Lord Byron addressed to the gentleman who had forwarded the offensive tract from Paris has not hitherto been printed, and was probably the last he wrote before quitting Italy, we make no apology for the length of the following extract: "Genoa, 10th July, 1823. "As to the Essay, etc., I have nothing to object to it, with regard to what concerns myself personally, though naturally there are some of the facts in it discoloured, and |