Yet must I spare-nor thus my pen degrade,
I quite forgot that scandal was his trade.
For food and raiment thus the coxcomb rails,
For those who fear his physic, like his tales.
Why should his harmless censure seem offence?
Still let him eat, although at my expense,
And join the herd to Sense and Truth unknown,
Who dare not call their very thoughts their own,
And share with these applause, a godlike bribe,
In short, do anything, except prescribe :—
For though in garb of Galen he appears,
His practice is not equal to his years.
Without improvement since he first began,
A young Physician, though an ancient Man-
Now let me cease-Physician, Parson, Dame,
Still urge your task, and if you can, defame.
The humble offerings of my Muse destroy,
And crush, oh! noble conquest! crush a Boy.
What though some silly girls have lov'd the strain,
And kindly bade me tune my Lyre again;
What though some feeling, or some partial few,
Nay, Men of Taste and Reputation too,

Have deign'd to praise the firstlings of my Muse

If you your sanction to the theme refuse,

If you your great protection still withdraw, Whose Praise is Glory, and whose Voice is law! Soon must I fall an unresisting foe,

A hapless victim yielding to the blow.

Thus Pope by Curl and Dennis was destroyed,
Thus Gray and Mason yield to furious Loyd;1
From Dryden, Milbourne tears the palm away,
And thus I fall, though meaner far than they.
As in the field of combat, side by side,

A Fabius and some noble Roman died.

Dec. 1806.

L'AMITIÉ EST L'AMOUR SANS AILES.3

I.

WHY should my anxious breast repine,

Because my youth is fled?

Days of delight may still be mine;

Affection is not dead.

In tracing back the years of youth,
One firm record, one lasting truth
Celestial consolation brings;
Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,

Where first my heart responsive beat,

"Friendship is Love without his wings!"

1. [Robert Lloyd (1733-1764). The following lines occur in the first of two odes to Obscurity and Oblivion-parodies of the odes of Gray and Mason :—

"Heard ye the din of modern rhymers bray?

It was cool M-n and warm G―y,
Involv'd in tenfold smoke."]

2. [The Rev. Luke Milbourne (died 1720) published, in 1698, his Notes on Dryden's Virgil, containing a venomous attack on Dryden. They are alluded to in The Dunciad, and also by Dr. Johnson, who wrote (Life of Dryden), " His outrages seem to be the ebullitions of a mind agitated by stronger resentment than bad poetry can excite."]

3. [The MS. is preserved at Newstead.]

2.

Through few, but deeply chequer'd years,

What moments have been mine! Now half obscured by clouds of tears,

Now bright in rays divine;

Howe'er my future doom be cast,

My soul, enraptured with the past,
To one idea fondly clings;

Friendship! that thought is all thine own, Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone"Friendship is Love without his wings!"

3.

Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave

Their branches on the gale,
Unheeded heaves a simple grave,

Which tells the common tale;
Round this unconscious schoolboys stray,
Till the dull knell of childish play

From yonder studious mansion rings;
But here, whene'er my footsteps move,

My silent tears too plainly prove,

"Friendship is Love without his wings!"

4.

Oh, Love! before thy glowing shrine,

My early vows were paid;

My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine,

But these are now decay'd;

For thine are pinions like the wind,

No trace of thee remains behind,
Except, alas! thy jealous stings.
Away, away! delusive power,

Thou shalt not haunt my coming hour;
Unless, indeed, without thy wings.

5.

Seat of my youth! thy distant spire
Recalls each scene of joy ;

My bosom glows with former fire,-
In mind again a boy.

Thy grove of elms, thy verdant hill,

Thy every path delights me still,

Fach flower a double fragrance flings;

Again, as once, in converse gay,

Each dear associate seems to say,

"Friendship is Love without his wings!"

6.

My Lycus! wherefore dost thou weep?
Thy falling tears restrain;

I. [Harrow.]

2. Lord Clare had written to Byron, "I think by your last letter that you are very much piqued with most of your friends, and, if I am not much mistaken, a little so with me. In one part you say, 'There is little or no doubt a few years or months will render us as politely indifferent to each other, as if we had never passed a portion of our time together.' Indeed, Byron, you wrong me; and I have no doubt, at least I hope, you are wrong yourself."-Life, p. 25.]

Affection for a time may sleep,

But, oh, 'twill wake again.

Think, think, my friend, when next we meet, Our long-wish'd interview, how sweet!

From this my hope of rapture springs; While youthful hearts thus fondly swell, Absence, my friend, can only tell,

"Friendship is Love without his wings !"

7.

In one, and one alone deceiv'd,
Did I my error mourn?

No-from oppressive bonds reliev'd,
I left the wretch to scorn.

I turn'd to those my childhood knew,
With feelings warm, with bosoms true,
Twin'd with my heart's according strings;

And till those vital chords shall break,
For none but these my breast shall wake
Friendship, the power deprived of wings!

8.

Ye few! my soul, my life is yours,

My memory and my hope; Your worth a lasting love insures,

Unfetter'd in its scope;

From smooth deceit and terror sprung,

With aspect fair and honey'd tongue,