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Till I forget a false fair face,

I ne'er shall find a resting-place;

My own dark thoughts I cannot shun,

But ever love, and love but one.

6.

The poorest, veriest wretch on earth
Still finds some hospitable hearth,
Where Friendship's or Love's softer glow
May smile in joy or soothe in woe;
But friend or leman I have none,"

Because I cannot love but one.

7.

I go but wheresoe'er I flee
There's not an eye will weep for me;
There's not a kind congenial heart,
Where I can claim the meanest part;
Nor thou, who hast my hopes undone,

Wilt sigh, although I love but one.

8.

To think of every early scene,

Of what we are, and what we've been,

Would whelm some softer hearts with woe

But mine, alas! has stood the blow;

Yet still beats on as it begun,

And never truly loves but one.

i. But friend or lover I have none.-[Imit. and Transl., p. 229.]

9.

And who that dear lov'd one may be,
Is not for vulgar eyes to see;

And why that early love was cross'd,
Thou know'st the best, I feel the most;
But few that dwell beneath the sun

Have loved so long, and loved but one.

IO.

I've tried another's fetters too,

With charms perchance as fair to view;
And I would fain have loved as well,
But some unconquerable spell

Forbade my bleeding breast to own
A kindred care for aught but one.

II.

"Twould soothe to take one lingering view,

And bless thee in my last adieu;

Yet wish I not those eyes to weep

For him that wanders o'er the deep;
His home, his hope, his youth are gone,
Yet still he loves, and loves but one..

1809. [First published, 1809.]

i. Though wheresoe er my bark may run,

I love but thee, I love but one.-[Imit. and Transl., p. 230.]

The land recedes his Bark is gone,

Yet still he loves and loves but one. [MS.]

ii. Yet far away he loves but one.-[MS.]

ENGLISH BARDS,

AND

SCOTCH REVIEWERS;

A SATIRE.

BY

LORD BYRON.

"I had rather be a kitten, and cry, mew!
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers."

SHAKESPEARE.

"Such shameless Bards we have; and yet 'tis true,
There are as mad, abandon'd Critics, too."

РОРЕ.

VOL. I.

U

PREFACE.'

ALL my friends, learned and unlearned, have urged me not to publish this Satire with my name. If I were to be“ turned from the career of my humour by quibbles quick, and paper bullets of the brain," I should have complied with their counsel. But I am not to be terrified by abuse, or bullied by reviewers, with or without arms. I can safely say that I have attacked none personally, who did not commence on the offensive. An Author's works are public property: he who purchases may judge, and publish his opinion if he pleases; and the Authors I have endeavoured to commemorate may do by me as I have done by them. I dare say they will succeed better in condemning my scribblings, than in mending their But my object is not to prove that I can write well, but, if possible, to make others write better.

own.

As the Poem has met with far more success than I expected, I have endeavoured in this Edition to make some additions and alterations, to render it more worthy of public perusal.

1. [The Preface, as it is here printed, was prefixed to the Second, Third, and Fourth Editions of English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers. The preface to the First Edition began with the words, "With regard to the real talents," etc. (see overleaf, line 11). The text of the poem follows that of the suppressed Fifth Edition, which passed under Byron's_own supervision, and was to have been issued in 1812. From that Edition the Preface was altogether excluded.

In an annotated copy of the Fourth Edition, of 1811, underneath the note, This preface was written for the Second Edition, and printed with it. The noble author had left this country previous to the publication of that Edition, and is not yet returned," Byron wrote, in 1816, "He is, and gone again."-MS. Notes from this volume, which is now in Mr. Murray's possession, are marked-B., 1816.]

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