No borrow'd 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

40

No matter what, so it can not be heard:

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, They think all learning fix'd within their walls: In manners rude, in foolish forms precise,

All modern arts affecting to despise ;

Yet prizing Bentley's, Brunck's, or Porson's1 note,"

i. Celebrated critics.-[4to. Three first Editions.]

50

1. The present Greek professor at Trinity College, Cambridge; a man whose powers of mind and writings may, perhaps, justify their preference. [Richard Porson (17591808). For Byron's description of him, see letter to Murray, of February 20, 1818. Byron says (Diary, December 17, 18, 1813) that he wrote the Devil's Drive in imitation of

More than the verse on which the critic wrote:

Vain as their honours, heavy as their Ale,'

Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale;

60

To friendship 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 PITT or PETTY3 rules the hour;)
To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head,
While distant mitres to their eyes are spread;

ii.

But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,
They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place.
Such are the men who learning's treasures guard!
Such is their practice, such is their reward!
This much, at least, we may presume to say—
The premium can't exceed the price they pay..

1806.

70

i. They court the tool of power.-[4to. P. on V. Occasions.] ii. While mitres, prebends.-[4to. P. on V. Occasions.] iii. The reward's scarce equal to the price they pay.-[4to] Porson's Devil's Walk. This was a common misapprehension at the time. The Devil's Thoughts was the joint composition of Coleridge and Southey, but it was generally attributed to Porson, who took no trouble to disclaim it. It was originally published in the Morning Post, Sept. 6, 1799, and Stuart, the editor, said that it raised the circulation of the paper for several days after. (See Coleridge's Poems (1893), pp. 147, 621.)]

1. [Lines 59-62 are not in the Quarto. They first appeared in Poems Original and Translated.]

2. Since this was written, Lord Henry Petty has lost his place, and subsequently (I had almost said consequently) the honour of representing the University. A fact so glaring requires no comment. [Lord Henry Petty, M.P. for the University of Cambridge, was Chancellor of the Exchequer in 1805; but in 1807 he lost his scat. In 1809 he succeeded his brother as Marquis of Lansdowne. He died in 1863.]

TO MARY,

ON RECEIVING HER PICTURE.1

I.

THIS faint resemblance of thy charms,

(Though strong as mortal art could give,)

My constant heart of fear disarms,

Revives my hopes, and bids me live,

2.

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.

3.

Here I can trace-ah, no! that eye,

Whose azure floats in liquid fire,

Must all the painter's art defy,

And bid him from the task retire.

4.

Here, I behold its beauteous hue;

But where's the beam so sweetly straying,

1. [This "Mary" is not to be confounded with the heiress of Annesley, or "Mary" of Aberdeen. She was of humble

Which gave a lustre to its blue,

Like Luna o'er the ocean playing?

5.

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 every sense in fast controul.

7.

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.

station in life. Byron used to show a lock of her light golden hair, as well as her picture, among his friends. (See Life, p. 41, note.)]

VOL. I.

D

ON THE DEATH OF MR. FOX,1

THE FOLLOWING ILLIBERAL IMPROMPTU APPEARED IN 66 THE MORNING POST."

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

But bless the hour, when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let Sense and Truth unclue,
We give the palm, where Justice points its due."

TO WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THESE PIECES SENT THE FOLLOWING REPLY FOR INSERTION IN THE

CC MORNING CHRONICLE."

Oн, 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 expir'd in plenitude of power,
Though ill success obscur'd his dying hour,

i. The subjoined Reply.-[4to]

iii.

ii. Would mangle, still, the dead, in spite of truth.-[4to]
iii. Shall, therefore, dastard tongues assail the name

Of him, whose virtues claim eternal fame ?—[4to]

1. [The stanza on the death of Fox appeared in the Morning Post, September 26, 1806.]