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ON A VIEW OF HARROW—

A COLLEGE EXAMINATION 9

Where science first da wn'd on the powers of reBection, And friendships were form'd, too romantic to last; 1

2.

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 deny'd!

3

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.

4

Again I behold where for hours I have ponder'd, As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone 1 I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wander'd To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray.

5

I once more view the room, with spectators surrounded, Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded, I fancied that Mossop 3 himself was outshone.

'("My school-friendships were with me r*szt>*i (for 1 was always violent), but I do v- enow that there is one which has endured be sure, some have been cut short by death) •all «ow." — Letters, t8oi, v. 455.]

*IA tomb in the churchyard at Harrow was » wdl known to be his favourite resting-place, that the boym called it "Byron's Tomb": «ad here, they say, he used to sit for hours, *r»pt tip in thought — Lift, p. 26. Vide p. 71.]

>[Henry Mossop, who performed Zanga in

6.

Or, as Lear, I pour'd forth the deep imprecation, • By my daughters of kingdom and reason depriv'd; Till, fir'd by loud plaudits and selfadulation, I regarded myself as a Garrick reviv'd.

7

Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast;

Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you: Your pleasures may still be in fancy possest.

8.

To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me,

While Fate shall the shades of the future unroll! Since Darkness o'ershadows the prospect before me,

More dear is the beam of the past to my soul!

9

But if, through the course of the years which await me, Some new scene of pleasure should open to view, I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, "Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew." 1806. [First printed, December, 1806.]

THOUGHTS SUGGESTED BY A COLLEGE EXAMINATION.

High in the midst, surrounded by his peers,

Macnus 1 his ample front sublime uprears:

1 No reflection is there intended against the person mentioned under the name of Magnus. He is merely represented as performing an unavoidable function of his office. Indeed, such an attempt could only recoil upon myself; as that gentleman is now as much distinguished by his eloquence, and the dignified propriety with which he tills his situation, as he was in

Plac'd on his chair of state, he seems a God,

While Sophs 1 and Freshmen tremble at his nod;

As all around sit wrapt in speechless gloom,

His voice, in thunder, shakes the sounding dome;

Denouncing dire reproach to luckless fools,

Unskill'd to plod in mathemalic rules.

Happy the youth! in Euclid's axioms tried, Though little vers'd in any art beside; Who, scarcely skill'd an English line to pen,

Scans Attic metres with a critic's ken. What! though he knows not how his

fathers bled, When civil discord pil'd the fields with

dead,

When Edward bade his conquering

bands advance, Or Henry trampled on the crest of

France:

Though marvelling at the name of

Magna Charta, Yet well he recollects the laws of Spuria; Can tell, what edicts sage Lycurgus

made,

While Blackstone's on the shelf, neglected laid;

Of Grecian dramas vaunts the deathless fame,

Of Avon's bard, remcmb'ring scarce the name.

Such is the youth whose scientific pate Class-honours, medals, fellowships, await;

Or even, perhaps, the declamation prize, If to such glorious height, he lifts his eyes.

But lo! no common orator can hope The envied silver cup within his scope: Not that our heads much eloquence require,

his younger days for wit and conviviality. JDr William Lort Manscl (17*3-1820) was, jn 1708. appointed Master of Trinity College. Cambridge, by Pitt.]

1 [Undergraduates of the second and third year]

Th' Athenian's 1 glowing style, of

Tully's fire. A manner clear or warm is useless, since We do not try by speaking to convince, Be other orators of pleasing proud, — We speak to please ourselves, not movi

the crowd: Our gravity prefers the muttering tout A proper mixture of the squeak and

groan:

No borrowed grace of action must be

seen,

The slightest motion would displease the

Dean;

Whilst every staring Graduate would prate,

Against what — he could never imitate.

The man, Who hopes t'obtain the promis'd cup, Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up;

Nor stop, but rattle over every word — No matter what, so it can not be beard: Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest: Who speaks the fastest's sure to speak the best;

Who utters most within the shortest space,

May, safely, hope to win the wordy race.

The Sons of Science these, who, thus repaid,

Linger in ease in Granta's sluggish shade;

Where on Cam's sedgy banks, supine, they lie.

Unknown, unhonour'd live — unwept for die:

Dull as the pictures, which adorn their halls,

Thcv think all learning fix'd within their

walls:

In manners rude, in foolish forms precise,

All modern arts affecting to despise; Yet prizing Bcntley's, Brunch's, or Parson's 2 note,

1 Demosthenes.

2 The present Greek professor at Trinity Collcne, Cambridge; a man whose powers of mind and writings may. perhaps, justify their preference. [Richard Porson (1759-1808).}

More than the verse on which the critic urole:

Vain as their honours, heavy as their Ale,

Sad as their wit, and tedious as their talc;

To iriendship dead, though not untaught to feel,

When Self and Church demand a Bigot zeal.

With eager haste they court the lord of power,

(Whether 'tis Prrr or Petty 1 rules the

hour;)

To Am, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head,

While distant mitres to their eyes are spread;

But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,

They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place.

Sink are the men who learning's treasures guard I

Stch is their practice, such is their rtrjMtil

Tiis much, at least, we may presume to

say —

The premium can't exceed the price they pay. 1806. [First printed, December, 1806.]

TO MARY,

OS RECEIVING HER PICTURE.2

Tbis faint resemblance of thy charms, [Though strong as mortal art could

My constant heart of fear disarms, Revives my hopes, and bids me live.

'Sate this was written. Lord Henry Petty !*st hi- place, and subsequently (I had arid consequently) the honour of rcprc-"Jail tac University. A fact so glaring ^iores no comment. [Lord Henry Petty '17*3-186.3), M.P. for the University of Cam*ai Chancellor of the Exchequer in 'j°5 In 1800 he succeeded his brother as HE?! of Lamdowne.]

. nab "Mary" is not to be confounded it* heiress of Anneslev. or "Mary" of ii^dftn was Gf "humble station in life." *v«« med to show a lock of her light golden ^ as »efl as her picture, among his friends. '**<?'.(>. 41. nott.)]

Here I can trace the locks of gold Which round thy snowy forehead wave;

The cheeks which sprung from Beauty's mould;

The lips, which made me Beauty's slave.

Here I can trace — ah, no! that eye,
Whose azure floats in liquid fire,

Must a!l the painter's art defy,
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 plac'd thee next my
heart.

6.

She plac'd it, sad, with needless fear, Lest time might shake my wavering soul,

Unconscious that her image there
Held everv sense in fast controul.

Thro' hours, thro' years, thro' time,
'twill cheer —
My hope, in gloomy moments, raise;
In life's last conflict 'twill appear,
And meet my fond, expiring gaze.
[First printed, December, 1806.]

ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX,

THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN THE "MORNING POST."

"our Nation's foes lament on Fox's death,

But bless the hour, when Pitt rcsign'd his breath:

These feelings wide, let Sense and

Truth undue, We give the palm, where Justice points

its due."

TO WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THESE PIECES SENT THE FOLLOWING REPLY 1 FOR INSERTION IN THE "MORNING CHRONICLE."

Oh, factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth

Would mangle, still, the dead, perverting truth;

What, though our "nation's foes"

lament the fate, With generous feeling, of the good and

great;

Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name

Of him, whose meed exists in endless fame?

When Pitt e.xpir'd in plenitude of power,

Though ill success obscur'd his dying hour,

Pity her dewy wings before him spread, For noble spirits "war not with the dead":

His friends in tears, a last sad requiem gave,

As all his errors slumber'd in the grave; He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight

Of cares o'erwhelming our conflicting state.

When, lol a Hercules, in Fox, appear'd, Who for a time the ruin'd fabric rear'd: He, too, is fall'n, who Britain's loss supplied.

With him, our fast reviving hopes have died;

Not one great people, only, raise his urn, All Kurope's far-extended regions mourn.

"These feelings wide, let Sense and

Truth undue, To give the palm where Justice points its

due;"

Yet, let not cankcr'd Calumny assail, Or round her statesman wind her gloomy veil.

1 [September 26, 1806.]

Fox I o'er whose corse a mourning

world must weep, Whose dear remains in honour'd marble

sleep;

For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan,

While friends and foes, alike, his talents own. —

Fox! shall, in Britain's future annals,

shine,

Nor e'en to Pitt, the patriot's palm

resign;

Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred

mask,

For Pitt, and Pitt alone, has dar'd to ask.

Southwell, October, 1806.] [First printed, December, 1806.]

TO A LADY1

WHO PRESENTED TO THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR BRAIDED WITH HIS OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN DECEMBER TO MEET HIM IN THE

GARDEN.

These locks, which fondly thus entwine In firmer chains our hearts confine, Than all th' unmeaning protestations Which swell with nonsense, love orations Our love is fix'd, I think we've prov'd it Nor time, nor place, nor art have mov e it;

Then wherefore should we sigh ant whine,

With groundless jealousy repine;
With silly whims, and fancies frantic,
Merely to make our love romantic?
Why should you weep, like Lydu.

Languish,
And fret with self-created anguish?
Or doom the lover you have chosen.
On winter nights to sigh half frozen;
In leafless shades, to sue for pardon.
Only because the scene's a garden?
For gardens seem, by one consent,
(Since Shakespeare set the precedent:
Since Juliet first declar'd her passion)
To form the place of assignation.

1 IThesr line? air addressed to the Mary referred to in the lines tie-ginning, "Tin faint resemblance of thy charms."]

3h! would some modem muse inspire, tod seat ber by a sea-coal fire; > had the bard at Christmas written, tod laid the scene of love in Britain; it. surely, in commiseration, iid chang'd the place of declaration, n Italy, I've no objection, .Varm nights are proper for reflection; ?ut here our climate is so rigid, rhat low itself, is rather frigid: Ihink on our chilly situation, tod curb this rage for imitation. Then let us meet, as oft we've done, ieneath the influence of the sun; jr. if at midnight I must meet you, tlthin your mansion let me greet you: rkere, we can love for hours together, iluch better, in such snowy weather, Than plac'd in all th' Arcadian groves, rtat ever witness'd rural loves; "i'C. if my passion fail to please, >:M night I'll be content to freeze; io more I'll give a loose to laughter, tat curse my fate, for ever after.1 [First printed, December, 1806.]

TO A BEAUTIFUL QUAKER.2

■nxr girl! though only once we met, Tial meeting I shall ne'er forget;

1 In the above little piece the author has been uxxd by some candid readers of introducing cause of a lady [Julia Leacroft] from whom e «ii some hundred miles distant at the time * *aa written: and poor Juliet, who has slept s^ag in "the tomb of all the Capulets," has converted, with a trifling alteration of her vat. into an English damsel, walking in a wden of their own creation during the month I timber, in a village where the author never ■ased a winter. Such has been the candour f «uw ingenious critics. We would advise f-* tiheral commentators on taste and arbiters 'Centra to read Shakespeare.

Having heard that a very severe and in"^te censure has been passed on the above 1 bee leave to reply in a quotation from a s-fniirfd work, CarT's Stranger in France. -ijl cap. xvi.. p. 171.] "As we were rc'rmpUting a painting on a large scale, in among other figures, is the uncovered Ittte length of a warrior, a prudish-looking »fo seemed to have touched the age of es!*nnan. after having attentively surveyed ; thn^gb her glass, observed to her party that Joe vas a great deal of indecorum in that a~3re. Madame S. shrewdly whispered in syear'that the indecorum was in the remark.'"

'["Whom the author saw at Harrowgate." -MS. JV*J

And though we ne'er may meet again,
Remembrance will thy form retain;
I would not say, "I love," but still,
My senses struggle with my will:
In vain to drive thee from my breast,
My thoughts are more and more represt;
In vain I check the rising sighs,
Another to the last replies:
Perhaps, this is not love, but yet,
Our meeting I can ne'er forget.

What, though we never silence broke,
Our eyes a sweeter language spoke;
The tongue in flattering falsehood deals,
And tells a tale it never feels;
Deceit, the guilty lips impart,
And hush the mandates of the heart;
But soul's interpreters, the eyes,
Spurn such restraint, and scorn disguise.
As thus our glances oft convers'd,
And all our bosoms felt rehears'd,
No spirit, from within, reprov'd us,
Say rather, "'twas the spirit mov'd us."
Though, what they utter'd, I repress,
Yet I conceive thou'It partly guess;
For as on thee, my memory ponders,
Perchance to me, thine also wanders.
This, for myself, at least, I'll say,
Thy form appears through night,

through day;
Awake, with it my fancy teems,
In sleep, it smiles in fleeting dreams;
The vision charms the hours away,
And bids me curse Aurora's ray
For breaking slumbers of delight,
Which make me wish for endless night.
Since, oh! whate'er my future fate,
Shall joy or woe my steps await;
Tempted by love, by storms beset,
Thine image, I can ne'er forget.

Alas! again no more we meet,
No more our former looks repeat;
Then, let me breathe this parting prayer,
The dictate of my bosom's care:
"May Heaven so guard my lovely
quaker,

That anguish never can o'ertake her;
That peace and virtue ne'er forsake her,
But bliss be aye her heart's partaker!
Oh! may the happy mortal, fated
To be, by dearest ties, related,
For her, each hour, new joys discover,

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