THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE. 'Α Βαρβιτος δε χορδαῖς 'Ερωτα μουνον ἠχει. — Anacreon. Away with your fictions of flimsy romance; Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove! Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love. Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove; From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love. If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse, I hate you, ye cold compositions of art: Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes, Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth, And Eden revives in the first kiss of love. When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past For years fleet away with the wings of the doveThe dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love. 1 Lord Strangford's translations of Camoens' Amatory Verses, and Little's Poems, are mentioned by Mr. Moore as having been at this period a favourite study of Lord Byron. --E. ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. 1 Where are those honours, Ida! once your own, July, 1805. TO THE DUKE OF DORSET. 3 Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, And made me less a tyrant than a friend," When youthful parasites, who bend the knee 1 In March, 1805, Dr. Drury retired from his situation of head-master at Harrow, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler. E. 2" Dr. Drury, whom I plagued sufficiently, was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father."-- Byron Diary. 3 In looking over my papers to select a few additional poems for this second edition, I found the above lines, which I had totally forgotten, composed in the summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from Harrow. They were addressed to a young schoolfellow of high rank, through the neighbouring country: however, he never saw who had been my frequent companion in some rambles. the lines, and most probably never will. As, on a re-perusal, I found them not worse than some other pieces in the collection, I have now published them, for the first time, after a slight revision. [George-John-Frederick, fourth Duke of Dorset, born November 15, 1793. amiable nobleman was killed by a fall from his horse, while hunting near Dublin, February 22, 1815, being on a visit at the time to his mother, the duchess-dowager, and her second husband, Charles Earl of Whitworth, then Lord Lieutenant of Ireland.] This 4 At every public school the junior boys are completely subservient to the upper forms till they attain a seat in the higher classes. From this state of probation, very properly, no class is exempt; but after a certain period, they command in turn those who succeed. 5 Allow me to disclaim any personal allusions, even the most distant. I merely mention generally what is too often the weakness of preceptors. Believe them not; they point the path to shame, Ask thine own heart; 't will bid thee, boy, forbear; Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day, "T is not enough, with other sons of power, Turn to the annals of a former day; The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close, Shades where hope, Peace, and Friendship all were mine: Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue, Dorset, farewell! I will not ask one part Since chance has thrown us in the self-same sphere, Oh! could Le Sage's 1 demon's gift Be realised at my desire, This night my trembling form he'd lift Then would, unroof'd, old Granta's halls Then would I view each rival wight, Petty and Palmerston survey; Lo! candidates and voters lie All lull'd in sleep, a goodly number: Whose conscience won't disturb their slumber Lord H, 3 indeed, may not demur; Some pretty livings in disposal: I'll turn mine eye, as night grows later, The studious sons of Alma Mater. There, in apartments small and damp, 1 The Diable Boiteux of Le Sage, where Asmodeus, the demon, places Don Cleofas on an elevated situation, and unroofs the houses for inspection. On the death of Mr. Pitt, in January, 1806, Lord Henry Petty and Lord Palmerston were candidates to represent the University of Cambridge in parliament.-E. 3 Edward-Harvey Hawke, third Lord Hawke. His Lordship died in 1824. E. Who sacrifices hours of rest To scan precisely metres Attic; In solving problems mathematic: Who reads false quantities in Seale,1 From authors of historic use; The square of the hypothenuse,3 Who plans of reformation lay: And for the sins of others pray: "Tis morn: from these I turn my sight. Loud rings in air the chapel bell; 'Tis hush'd: what sounds are these I hear? The organ's soft celestial swell Rolls deeply on the list'ning ear. 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, To us his psalms had ne'er descended, In furious mood he would have tore 'em. The luckless Israelites, when taken Oh! had they sung in notes like these, But if I scribble longer now, The deuce a soul will stay to read; My pen is blunt, my ink is low; "T is almost time to stop, indeed. 1 Seale's publication on Greek Metres displays consider able talent and ingenuity, but. as might be expected in so difficult a work, is not remarkable for accuracy. 2 The Latin of the schools is of the canine species, and not very intelligible. 3 The discovery of Pythagoras, that the square of the hypothenuse is equal to the squares of the other two sides of a right-angled triangle. 4 On a saint's day, the students wear surplices in chapel. Therefore, farewell, old Granta's spires! 1806. ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW ON THE HILL. Oh! mihi praeteritos 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 formed, too romantic to last; Where fancy yet joys to retrace 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, As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone 5 I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd, To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded, Where, as Zanga,6 I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded, I fancied that Mossop himself was outshone: Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me, 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." TO M. Oh! did those eyes, instead of fire, Love, more than mortal, would be thine. 1806. 5 They show tomb in the churchyard at Harrow, commanding a view over Windsor, which was so well known to be his favourite resting-place, that the boys called it "Byron's Tomb;" and here, they say, he used to sit for hours, wrapt up in thought.-E. speech-days, he selected always the most vehement pas6 For the display of his declamatory powers on the sages; such as the speech of Zanga over the body of Alonzo, and Lear's address to the storm. --E. 7 Mossop, a cotemporary of Garrick, famous for his performance of Zanga. I should turn out an orator, from my fluency, my tuibu"My grand patron, Dr. Drury, had a great notion that lence, my voice, my copiousness of declamation, and my action."-- Byron Diary. For thou art form'd so heavenly fair, That fatal glance forbids esteem. When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth, The skies might claim thee for their own: Within those once celestial eyes. These might the boldest sylph appal, But who can bear thine ardent gaze? "T is said that Berenice's hair In stars adorns the vault of heaven; But they would ne'er permit thee there, Thou wouldst so far outshine the seven. 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.1 TO WOMAN. Woman! experience might have told me 1806. Oh, memory! thou choicest blessing How quick we credit every oath, TO M. S. G. When I dream that you love me, you'll surely forgive; For in visions alone your affection can live,- Then, Morpheus! envelope my faculties fast, Should the dream of to-night but resemble the last, They tell us that slumber, the sister of death, To fate how I long to resign my frail breath, 1 "Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, 2 The last line is almost a literal translation from a Spanish proverb. Ah! frown not, sweet lady, unbend your soft brow, If I sin in my dream, I atone for it now, Though in visions, sweet lady, perhaps you may smile, When dreams of your presence my slumbers beguile, To awake will be torture sufficient. TO MARY, ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE.3 Which round thy snowy forehead wave, Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye, 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, Lifeless, unfeeling as thou art, 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. Thro' hours, thro' years, thro' time, 't will cheer; In life's last conflict 'twill appear, TO LESBIA. Lesbia since far from you I've ranged, Two years have lingering past away, love! 'Tis I that am alone to blame, I, that am guilty of love's treason; I do not, love! suspect your truth, 3 Of this "Mary," who is not to be confounded with the heiress of Annesley, or "Mary" of Aberdeen, all that has been ascertained is, that she was of an humble, if not equivocal, station in life, and that she had long light golden hair, "of which," says Mr. Moore, "he used to show a lock, as well as her picture, among his friends."-E. No, no, my flame was not pretended; Have found monotony in loving. New beauties still are daily bright'ning; Your eye for conquest beams prepared, The forge of love's resistless lightning. Arm'd thus, to make their bosoms bleed, Many will throng to sigh like me, love! More constant they may prove, indeed; Fonder, alas! they ne'er can be, love! LINES ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY. [As the author was discharging his pistols in a garden, 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.]1 Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead, Vex'd to behold such beauty here, The ball obey'd some hell-born guide; For such an outrage done to thee? Which but belong'd to thee before. Let it be death, or what thou wilt. LOVE'S LAST ADIEU. Αει δ' αει με φευγει. - Anacreon. The roses of love glad the garden of life, Though nurtured 'mid weeds dropping pestilent dew, Till time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife, Or prunes them for ever, in love's last adieu! 1 Te occurrence took place at Southwell, and the beautiful lady to whom the lines were addressed was Miss Houson - B. This word is used by Gray, in his poem to the Fatal Sisters: "Iron aleet of arrowy shower Hurtles through the darken'd nir." In vain with endearments we soothe the sad heart, Still Hope, breathing peace through the grief-swollen breast, Will whisper, "Our meeting we yet may renew:" With this dream of deceit half our sorrow's represt, Ncr taste we the poison of love's last adieu! Oh! mark you yon pair: in the sunshine of youth Love twined round their childhood his flow'rs as they grew; They flourish awhile in the season of truth, Till chill'd by the winter of love's last adieu! Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way Down a cheek which outrivals thy bosom in hue ? Yet why do I ask?-to distraction a prey, Thy reason has perish'd with love's last adieu! Oh! who is yon misanthrope, shunning mankind? How he envies the wretch with a soul wrapt in steel Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o'ercast; No more with love's former devotion we sue In this life of probation for rapture divine, Who kneels to the god, on his altar of light His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight; 110 DAMETAS. In law an infant,3 and in years a boy, Woman his dupe, his heedless friend a tool; Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school; And found the goal when others just begin: TO MARION. Marion! why that pensive brow? 9 I law every person is an infant who has not attained the age of twenty-one. |