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 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 %\ft Bream of iouff), 
 
 A POEM.
 
 Ci. WOODFALI,, PRINTER, 
 ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET, LONDON,
 
 Clje Bream of $outi). 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 " Has Sorrow thy young days shaded, 
 
 As clouds o'er the morning fleet? 
 Too fast have those young days faded, 
 
 Which even in sorrow were sweet '{ 
 Does Time with his cold wing wither 
 
 Each feeling that once was dear? 
 Come, child of Misfortune, come hither, 
 
 I'll weep with thee tear for tear." 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, 
 
 STRAND. 
 
 1818.
 
 TO 
 
 WALTER FREDERIC STIRLING, ESQ. 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS SINCERE FRIEND, 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 Cfje ream of gouty.
 
 Cfje ream of imttfo. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 But they who have loved the fondest, the purest, 
 Too often have wept o'er the dream they believ'd ; 
 And the heart that has slumbered in friendship securest 
 Is happy indeed if 'twas never deceiv'd. 
 
 MOORE. 
 
 I. 
 
 " O'er years of youth the tearful eye may cast its 
 
 aching glance, 
 When joys no longer thrill the heart, and hopes no 
 
 more entrance ; 
 Tis but the gloomy waste of life, the desart's dreary 
 
 path, 
 That wakes within the breast again each former 
 
 tempest's wrath. 
 
 15
 
 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 II. 
 
 It tells but of some early hope that passion taught to 
 
 glow 
 Some gleam of infant innocence the heart just learnt 
 
 to know 
 Then plunged into the precipice, where whirled the 
 
 gulf of crime, 
 And darkly seared the furrowed brow in youth's own 
 
 joyous prime. 
 
 III. 
 
 The world may fling its loud reproach : but can it 
 
 wound so deep, 
 As the gnawing fiend of Memory, whose tortures never 
 
 sleep ? 
 In lonely darkness undisturbed, the heart must ever 
 
 brood, 
 Remorse must be its clinging curse, despair its only 
 
 food.
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet once to Joy's exulting strain the heart could 
 
 proudly swell, 
 And it hath wept in trancing thought o'er Love's 
 
 impassioned spell ; 
 
 But, like each earthly privilege, it proved a phantom 
 
 shade, 
 
 A meteor light of mocking glare, that glimmer'd 
 
 fled betrayed ! 
 
 V. 
 
 And what hath life to offer more ? oh, yes ! perhaps 
 
 for me, 
 When tears have washed each guilty thought, these 
 
 aching eyes may see 
 Some beckoning form of future bliss, some soothing 
 
 heart to heal 
 These bleeding wounds, and wake those joys, which 
 
 long I've ceased to feel." 
 
 b 2
 
 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 I. 
 
 **- And is this then the strain, that truth hath wrung 
 
 From the racked breast ? has all, that hope and 
 
 thought 
 Fantastically framed in days yet young, 
 Ended in this ? all that experience taught, 
 To look on life, as 'twere a vision, caught 
 From the frail rainbow tints, that smile 
 In such auspicious loveliness, as fraught 
 With hues, which promise peace then fade the while, 
 E'en while we gaze on what we deem will aye beguile. 
 
 II. 
 
 Man's heritage is sorrow ere we know 
 Ev'n our own mother's voice, we learn to share 
 In this our common lot and tears will flow 
 E'er we can lisp of grief and who shall dare 
 To deem his life will end not in despair ? ' 
 All all be crushed the hope that fondly stayed, 
 Like the last beam of day, amid our care, 
 Too fair, too frail, in sadness be decayed, 
 And all that once gave life be mouldering in the shade.
 
 tCanto 1, THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 
 
 III. 
 
 Alas ! we mock ourselves the easy prey 
 Of" our own hearts, that like a fretful boy 
 Can only weep itself to rest from day to day 
 We prove our heirdom e'en in all our joy, 
 Which by its own reaction must destroy 
 All its gay promise, turning bliss to pain : 
 Tired of its dream, the heart will quickly cloy, 
 And eyes can only wake and weep in vain, 
 Or weeping ask of Heaven to sleep and dream again C 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet it is sad for youthful hearts to crush 
 Their native feeling bid each passion sleep, 
 That it tell not of woe and learn to hush 
 The rising sigh, lest Love should hear, and weep : 
 And while each smile but plants the furrow deep 
 On the scathed brow, to tell of joys unknown, 
 And hopes unfelt with venial fraud to heap 
 Tale upon tale of gladness, while the groan 
 Of smothered woe but waits to brood and burst alone,
 
 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet if at times some brighter hope should win 
 A truant smile, and foolish fancy dream 
 Of pangs rewarded, and atoned sin : 
 Blame not the thought 'tis but a lonely beam, 
 That tints existence with a dearer gleam : 
 And, through the stormy wreck of early years, 
 Oh ! 'tis a dear illusion still to deem 
 Of days unsullied by Affliction's tears, 
 When Fancy half believes that Truth her vision rears. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Nay ! let me dream 'tis hard to wake 
 
 From slumbers so divine as this : 
 Perhaps Life's visions yet may take 
 Some tint of early bliss : 
 Like clouds that lie 
 On a western sky, 
 Too frail to stay yet oh ! too fair to die.
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH". 
 
 II. 
 
 Delusion here may kindly throw 
 
 Her veil around the past alone : 
 And all the brightening future glow 
 With visions still her own : 
 Joy still may shine 
 In dreams be mine 
 And Love may worship at his wonted shrine. 
 
 III. 
 
 Is it for me that well known smile 
 
 Again plays dimpling o'er her cheek ? 
 Is it that pride forgets the while 
 For me those blushes speak ? 
 Oh ! let me dream ! 
 Too soon the gleam 
 Must haste to vanish with the morning beam. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Is it for me that downcast eye 
 
 Shrinks from the ardent gaze it meets ? 
 Is it for me that smother'd sigh 
 
 Its tenderness repeats ?
 
 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto /. 
 
 Oh Vision stay ! 
 Oh yet delay ! 
 Too soon must memory burst with hated day. 
 
 V. 
 
 Then chide not, if, by Fancy's spell, 
 
 I fondly dream of wrongs forgiven 
 is it too much for Hope to dwell 
 A few, few hours in Heaven? 
 The heart must wake 
 The spell must break 
 And Fancy all her revels soon forsake." 
 
 VI. 
 For Hope can twine around the youthful heart, 
 And cling, till Fancy almost feels it true ; 
 Yet the gay vision will too soon depart, 
 And into darkness melt each iris hue, 
 With which imagination did imbue 
 Its form of loveliness. Time never heals 
 The wound, it only festers. Mem'ry too ! 
 Vainly we learn to smile Silence reveals, 
 What Hope in vain depicts, and Memory more than feels
 
 ('unto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Oh Memory ! too like the moon-beam's light 
 On yonder sepulchre, whose rays but shine 
 On the cold dead thou art as palely bright ! 
 The Moon's beam only points to death and thine 
 Plays mournfully o'er the desolate shrine 
 Of ruined Hope yet wakes no spirit there 
 And though thy moral tells us to resign 
 All all we love Pity will yet forbear 
 To blame the foolish heart that weeps o'er such despair. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 O'er the bright track of youth to throw the gaze, 
 When age hath dimmed the lustre of our eye, 
 Is but the lightning's flash the comet's blaze 
 Scarce seen in splendour, ere 'tis seen to die : 
 And thus the brilliance of Hope's early dye, 
 When all of life bloomed lovely, and the heart 
 Sketched its own dreams, like stars along the sky 
 That shoot, then lose their lustre, will impart 
 A brief bright gleam of bliss to make remembrance start.
 
 10 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To clasp the image that it once had loved, 
 And own that feeling ne'er can all grow old. 
 Alas ! how soon the fairy scene removed, 
 When maddening truths their sullen forms unfold ; 
 Woe after woe in sad array enrolled, 
 And hope protracted to its faintest beat, 
 Till the dimmed eye can scarce one gleam behold 
 O'er the whole page of life, where still deceit 
 Must e'en its tale prolong, and all its dreams repeat. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Tho' fled are the days, when to Fancy alone 
 
 This heart loved to whisper its earliest prayer ; 
 When it sketched in its brightness some world of its own, 
 And Hope, like a pilgrim, went worshipping there ; 
 When Affection would twine 
 At its own hallowed shrine, 
 The flowers that but blossomed in heavenly air. 
 
 7
 
 Cutlto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 11 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet still 'mid the ruins shall Memory dwell, 
 
 In fondness again still its orisons raise ; 
 Like a hermit in love with his leaf-covered cell : 
 
 And tho' dimmed be the lustre of Life's early days, 
 Still the soul shall renew 
 All its own verdant hue, 
 And the lips again faulter their accents of praise." 
 
 X. 
 
 But who is he, The Childe, thus deeply scarred 
 In suffering alas ! not he alone 
 Tells a sad tale of life and fortune marred. 
 All have their sorrows and perhaps his own, 
 Whate'er they were, were less, had not the tone 
 Of his own spirit mingled gall within 
 His cup of bliss no matter he hath known, 
 What he would not unlearn tho' it might bring 
 A lew short hours of calm to steal amid life's din.
 
 12 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto 4. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Experience now can tell a truer tale 
 Can long for Apathy's dull niggard state, 
 Reckless, if love desert, or friendship fail 
 And smiling e'en amid the storms of fate : 
 That heartless caution, colder e'en than hate, 
 Which scoffs at pity for another's woe 
 That feeling, so akin to desolate, 
 Which looks too calm for love on all below, 
 Are the best, safest substitutes for passion's glow. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Ask ye his lineage ? what recks man's birth ? 
 Mighty or low, 'twill end but in the same ; 
 All, all are children of the same vile earth, 
 .Where ends the peasant's toil, or hero's fame ? 
 What is its sum ? a nothing, or a name. 
 Toil, grandeur, toil; proud wealth encrease thy store, 
 Heap the vile dust, that mingles with thy frame 
 From kindred earth heap on, 'till all is o'er 
 Then weigh thy sum of trains mere nothingness n<> 
 more !
 
 Cantu I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 13" 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Haply for him some distant day may shed 
 Its balm for all that youth hath learnt of woe ; 
 Or when, at last, at peace among the dead, 
 What boots the colour of this scene below ? 
 Let the winds whistle, or the tempest blow 
 The grave will shelter nor the heart once swell 
 At all that it hath known of friend or foe. 
 Alas ! and is this all ? is one dark cell 
 The last sad bourne, where all Life's passions dwell, 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Where the rich fervour of Life's early dreams, 
 And all the fond reality of bliss 
 Must darkly sleep where all that seemed and seems 
 The toil or joy of life, in one abyss 
 Must sink unconscious where Hate must kiss 
 The earth with him he hated Love e'en press 
 The thankless clod that answers not to this 
 Most clinging clasp and the heart, passionless, 
 Feel not one throb for all it once had loved to bless
 
 14- THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Yet who in torpid childhood's dull estate 3 
 Manhood's rich buoyancy would wish to blend ? 
 Manhood has woes yet we ourselves create 
 All that we feel : life, whether foe or friend, 
 Is our own action, and we can defend 
 Ev'n our own suffering, while childhood's way, 
 Pure without merit, joyous without end, 
 Takes but from ignorance each hour's display, 
 And negatively knows the whole of life's array. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Onward !" 's the motto of our life and will, 
 The watchword of our birthright tho' the tide, 
 That rolls us onwards, lead too oft to ill : 
 Where is the dastard, who dare not abide 
 The stormy billow, that, in threatening pride, 
 May dash him on to suffering or to fame ? 
 Who, when at last, each scene of life is tried, 
 Whines for the spotlessness of childhood's name. 
 And scoffs at Pleasure's cup, when lees alone remain.
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM 01? YOUTH. 15 
 
 XVII. 
 
 No ! though the brand be shiver'd in our grasp, 4 
 And the foe press to drive us to despair, 
 The broken hilt we still will sternly clasp, 
 " Hopeless, not heartless," still the combat dare. 
 " Fight on" the rallying word and where, oh! where 
 Shall the heart own a call more proudly grand 
 In the stern tug of war and life, to share 
 In such a battle shout and nobly stand, 
 Till glory crown the day or die with blade in hand. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Alas ! tho' scarcely twice ten years had rolled 
 In stealthy progress o'er Childe Arthur's brow, 
 Boyhood has pains, and youth can cares unfold, 
 Which age would wreck, and manhood force to bow. 
 Dark child of Misery ! not once, as now, 
 Did Pleasure fill her flowing cup in vain, 
 Or Love allure in confidence but thou 
 Hast found the flowery band a galling chain 
 Friendship and Love! what are ye? a vision and a pain?
 
 1G THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I 
 
 " Oh Love is like the falling dew 
 
 On flowers at early morn, 
 When dancing sun-beams fling their hue 
 
 In spangles o'er the lawn : 
 Th' unfolding petals drink each ray, 
 
 And wanton to the air, 
 Ah ! short indeed their vernal day, 
 
 But love is shorter far ! 
 
 So youthful hearts expand in joys, 
 
 Hope's gale plays lightly by ; 
 But soon a chilling frost destroys, 
 
 And leaves the wretch to die : 
 For what is joy but dew of morn, 
 Or transient track on whitened lawn, 
 
 Or blush on Beauty's cheek that glows ? 
 And love is like the swallow's stay, 
 That wantons in the summer's ray, 
 
 But flies from wintry snows ; 
 Yet tho' on earth a prey to fears, 
 Or slightly dimmed with April tears ; 
 Its amaranth bloom shall dwell on high. 
 And mingle with eternity !
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OP YOUTH. 17 
 
 For life is but a pageant's dream, 
 
 The bow that spans the skies ; 
 'Tis but the night-star's fading beam, 
 
 That flashes ere it dies : 
 But soon the empty dream is flown, 
 
 And Memory wakes again ; 
 The rose of happiness is gone, 
 
 Its thorns alone remain : 
 And tho' the brilliant star to-night 
 
 May deck the azure heaven, 
 To-morrow's eve may need its light, 
 
 Afar by tempests driven. 
 Thus Love and Joy awhile may sway 
 
 O'er Life's eventful cloud 
 Yet ever sinks the brightest day 
 
 In Night's oblivious shroud. 
 
 So slight the veil 'twixt Joy and Sorrow, 
 That Hope a charm can scarcely borrow, 
 
 How life its pangs may brook : 
 Since Memory's knife too deeply prints 
 Of what hath been the blood-red tints, 
 
 How friends betrayed and love forsook !
 
 18 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 But let that pass the hour is gone 
 When the blow came may years atone 
 For the wild thought the lifted hand 
 Shrunk from its impious lord's command, 
 And life may linger, as it will, 
 Till the grave close this scene of ill. 
 
 Yet Hope is like that songster's spell, 
 
 Which charms the ear at dusk of eve, 
 The lonely warbler in the dell, 
 
 When all the rest the woodlands leave : 
 So Love may shrink and Friendship feign, 
 
 And Fortune crush our dreams so fair, 
 Hope's " wood notes wild" will still remain, 
 
 The lonely warbler mid our care."
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 19 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Friendship miscalled ! why hath a fond world named 
 Thy light the star, that sanctifies e'en woe : 
 Meteor of mockery ! why art thou proclaimed, 
 As the rich balm for all life's ills below : 
 The Childe once wooed thee too he sought to know 
 All thy proud boast of bliss and he essayed, 
 And thought to gain himself a friend yet no ! 
 Thy light but mocked him to delude it played 
 First wooed him into errors shared them then 
 betrayed. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Here let me throw aside the ill-feigned name, 
 That seems to tell of fabled woe. I speak 
 Of mine own wrongs and with deserved fame, 
 (Fame may and can be damning) I would seek 
 To brand the heart, that urged its selfish pique 
 In Judas' treachery e'en while he snuTd and seem'd 
 To talk, God save him ! of his deep-fetch'd grief, 
 That his own snares had caught and he had deemed 
 T'have played the atoning part, e'en while of wrong he 
 dream'd. 
 
 c 2
 
 20 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Scandal, like death, has too its thousand ways 5 
 To torture and to ruin from the sneer 
 That scarcely curls its lip, yet half displays 
 The passion it would seem to hide the leer, 
 That scoffs obliquely the cold, skulking fear, 
 That weaves its web in secret the false smile, 
 That flatters, while it damns the falser tear, 
 That o'er a brother's failing weeps the while 
 And the half shrug, that hints, where language would 
 defile. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Out on such dastard foes ! better to see 
 The hand upraised to hurl the dart, and sink 
 At once beneath the blow ; than try to flee 
 From the base combat, where in vain we shrink 
 From the foul poisonous tale, that, link by link, 
 Severs our name from all that life deems fair, 
 And beautiful and drives to Ruin's brink 
 With malice calm till e'en good men forbear, 
 And weep, where they would save ! Alas ! they leave. 
 Despair.
 
 Cantu I. THE DREAM OP YOUTH. 21 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Friend of my soul no more ! 6 thy hands have rased 
 Ev'n thy own temple's building and the shrine, 
 Which Love in sweetest tenderness had raised, 
 Where Hope would keep her vigils, and would twine 
 Flowers of the fairest hue alas ! the ruin's thine 
 This too thou hast not spared -! And now survey 
 The wreck that thou hast made gaze not on mine 
 But hers, thy young, noble and innocent prey 
 The smile will not desert but the heart wears away. 7 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Alas ! for her and me ! life's waters flow 
 As calmly as before but who can tell 
 Of all that struggles in the depths below ? 
 Farewell ! thou best of beings ! though the spell 
 Of sadness hath been on thee, fare thee we'll. 
 Time might have told the truth the calumny 
 Been hushed alas farewell ! Let my name dwell 
 In kindness in thy bosom thine shall be 
 As a sweet mournful vision of the past to me.
 
 22 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Hast thou e'er felt the sorrow, 
 
 When lamenting loves part, 
 When e'en Hope cannot borrow 
 
 One solace for the heart ; 
 And when all that gives gladness, 
 
 Is to feel we shall meet 
 Where the eye knows not sadness, 
 
 And Friendship no deceit. 
 
 II. 
 
 Tho' life may be protracted, 
 
 Till the withered heart smile ; 
 And the pangs, which distracted, 
 
 Lie slumbering awhile : 
 Yet 'tis but like the madness, 
 
 Which hugs its clanking chain, 
 And smiles as if in gladness 
 
 On the fetters of his pain."
 
 Canto I. THE DKEAM OF YOUTH. 23 
 
 XXV. 
 
 There is a strange perversion in man's grief 
 And it may be a madness dotage or 
 Wisdom, which bids the sufferer seek relief 
 In playing with the dagger, which does mar, 
 And lacerate his heart, in the strong war 
 And chaos of his mind, like the maniac 
 Dandling the figure that had quenched the star 
 Of reason : So close is Joy to Sorrow's track, 
 Alas ! they seem the same, as the eye wanders back. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 They are, alas ! twin-sisters and the heart 
 That wooes, must win them both so close allied 
 In feature and in love, they seldom part, 
 But closely cling o'er life's tempestuous tide : 
 Joy in her brightest hour of royal pride 
 Will sigh and turn aside to weep and tears, 
 Which in their course of sorrow softly glide, 
 Have brightened to a smile as though its fears 
 Were blended into joy, which more and more endears. 
 7
 
 24 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The blushing maid upon her bridal morn 8 
 Will weeping sink into her lover's arms 
 Ah ! never yet did costly gem adorn, 
 Like that bright tear, that glitters, as it charms 
 Yet 'tis not grief Love's timid fond alarms, 
 That breathe no doubt, yet tremble, as they rise 
 The throbbing pulse, that Reason vainly calms 
 The fluttering heart, that almost melts to sighs 
 These bring thy tears, O Joy Love's sweetest, dearest 
 prize ! 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Too long the heart hath wooed its mournful themes, 
 Too long hath slumbered in oblivious gloom, 
 Nor known of pleasure but in airy dreams, 
 That cheat, yet sooth not like the hectic bloom 
 Of deep consumption, ere the insatiate tomb 
 Grasps its young victim, and the smile of Hope 
 Again plays dimpling Love's most sweet perfume 
 Sheds its rich incense, and the mind's gay scope 
 Expands in fullest pride, and dares with fate to cope.
 
 Cunlo J. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 25 
 
 I. 
 
 " What ! though Fate looks so lowring and gloomily 
 now, 
 
 'Tis the cloud that but darkens the fair Summer's 
 day; 
 And the frown that now riots unscared on my brow, 
 
 At the bright gleam of hope shall fade quickly 
 away. 
 Shall the bloom of our youth be but sullied by cares, 
 
 While the future can furnish one smile of repose ? 
 Shall the lines in our cheeks shew the channels of tears, 
 
 Or the pale flower of woe hope to banish the rose ? 
 Oh no ! while a friend or a glass but remains, 
 'Tis Wisdom that bids us thus hallow life's pains, 
 And the lips that would sullenly put the cup by, 
 May feast on a frown, while they sip from a sigh. 
 
 II. 
 
 Should the girl I adore prove a trait 'ress to me, 
 
 And vow that Jove laughs at those loves that betray : 
 
 Why, I'll join with his godship, and bid her be free ; 
 Then fly off with the bee to sip sweet:? where I may ;
 
 26 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto L 
 
 Her eyes may be bright, but sure Mary may vie 
 
 With the brightest, that Fanny e'er fancied her own ; 
 And this head can be pillowed as soft, when I lie 
 
 On a breast that's as fair as e'en Fanny hath known. 
 Then let the winds whistle the tempest that roars, 
 Shall chaunt but the prelude to happier hours ; 
 And in haven so safe as the bosom of love, 
 Oh ! 'twere transport to scoff at the tempest above !" 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Thus would Childe Arthur sing, although he knew 
 That it was but in mockery of ill : 
 And that, howe'cr he trifled, still too true 
 Came the sad memory, which did instil 
 Its poison into all of life whose thrill 
 Was but as madness and, like a vampire, 
 Fed on the grave of love and doth feed still 
 And tho' perhaps at times he strung his lyre 
 To joy, to what for solace will not grief aspire ?
 
 Cmito I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 27 
 
 XXX. 
 
 And Grief, when lone, would sometimes sit and 
 
 sketch 
 A phantasy so beautiful, 'twould seem 
 Ev'n as a well-loved form and Hope would stretch 
 Her gladdened vision, till the fairy dream 
 Half caught the tints of Truth's reflected beam 
 But when it vanished then he madly rushed, 
 Where pleasure sparkled in oblivious gleam, 
 Alas ! too soon the voice of reason hushed 
 
 When the heart learnt to smile, where once the cheek- 
 had blushed. 
 
 XXXI. 
 Let us plunge deep in revelry fill high 
 The goblet to its brim and pledge the bowl 
 To its full tide of madness, till the eye 
 Flash with unhallowed lustre, and the soul, 
 Delirious with the draught, lose all controul, 
 And give its loose to joy ; Is there no morrow 
 To bid us 'gain return to Reason's goal, 
 When all that memory from the past can borrow, 
 
 Is but redoubled loathing, shame, disgust and sorrow }
 
 28 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 What is the sum of revelry ? To quaff 
 A few brief draughts of madness, that arrest 
 The tide of reason and the noisy laugh, 
 That scarcely tells of mirth the empty breast, 
 Which heavily toils for the vapid jest, 
 " That palters with us in a double sense," 
 Losing our manhood's pride our bosom's rest 
 All that ennobles life the throb intense 
 Of rapture and the young rich bloom of innocence. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 In costliest goblets quaff the sparkling wine, 
 Rove thro' the labyrinth of Pleasure's doom : 
 Dull 'neath the borrowed splendours of the mine, 
 See Fashion's myriads throng the midnight room : 
 Tho' smiles be taught to play tho' purchased bloom 
 Its heightened flushings on the cheek bestow, 
 The sun may shine but can it warm the tomb ? 
 Or roses hide the rotting death below, 
 Or bid from Misery's eye the tear less frequent flow?
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 29 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 Yet the Childe lingered in the scene too weak 
 To break the spell, or too indifferent, 
 Where for a time a refuge he might seek 
 From his own thoughts what tho' perhaps he leant 
 Too strongly on this staff tho' his intent 
 To gain oblivion, led too oft to ill, 
 Where is the spirit, so with sorrow rent, 
 Would dash the cup aside, that gave at will 
 Forgetfulness? No, he would drink in madness still. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 And there were laughing eyes, which sometimes 
 
 wooed 
 His spirit to a softness. Beauty's eye 
 Whene'er it played upon his wayward mood, 
 Was as the tone of some faint melody, 
 Waking a dream of happy times, gone by 
 But though he joyed to linger in the beam, 
 And pour'd in listening ears his softest sigh, 
 'Twas but as sunset on a wintry stream, 
 That still reflects the ray, but feels no living gleam,
 
 30 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 Yet still to gaze upon Love's sweetest dyes, 
 The eye's half flash, and the cheek's tell-tale blush, 
 Blending all Beauty's richest harmonies, 
 From the faint tint of Hope to Passion's flush, 
 When the o'erpowering ecstasy will gush 
 Thro' the whole frame, and cannot be controlled, 
 Oh ! it were sweet, if lasting ! but we rush 
 Back to this earth's recoil, and thus unfold 
 Our nature's weakness clogged with its terrestrial 
 mould. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 But let that be 'twas still the Childe's dear bliss 
 To bask in Beauty's smile, though it should fade 
 To aim at Pleasure's mark though he should miss 
 The boon he sought, or find too soon decayed : 
 Ah where was yet the flower so sweet arrayed 
 In fairest hues, that did not soonest pine ? 
 Where was the dearest hope, that life display'd, 
 That perished not ? Yet still at Woman's shrine, 
 Who would not offer prayers, tho' the fane must de- 
 cline ?
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 31 
 
 I. 
 
 " Tho' dark and drear the day hath been, 
 And clouds have dimmed the fairy scene, 
 
 Which Morning gave to view : 
 Though all that now remains to life, 
 Be toil and woe, and pain and strife, 
 
 And grief of every hue : 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet still amid the desart wild 
 
 One pitying beam hath fondly smiled, 
 
 As if to gild decline 
 A smile that round Hope's death-bed plays, 
 One truant smile of better days, 
 
 Expiring, though it shine. 
 
 III. 
 
 And that was thine ! When friends fled far, 
 And Fortune waged her adverse war, 
 
 With Malice on her side : 
 Thy gentle love unfading stayed. 
 Thy fond affection well repaid 
 
 The tempest's angry tide.
 
 32 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When Envy's shaft her venom flung, 
 And Malice poison'd every tongue 
 
 To wound my youthful fame ; 
 Thy love alone could ne'er deceive, 
 Thy heart alone could ne'er believe 
 
 The tidings of my shame. 
 
 V. 
 
 Yet thou art gone ! I saw thee pine 
 I gazed upon that lovely shrine, 
 
 Till all of life was o'er ; 
 But though thou left'st me with a smile, 
 And bad'st me strive with grief awhile, 
 
 I only weep the more !"
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 33 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Oh Man ! thou seeming paradox ! whose tears 
 And smiles, like April showers, so quick succeed ! 
 Scarce ere the burst of sorrow disappears, 
 Smiles again bloom and yet again recede 
 Alas ! o'er wither'd hopes the heart may bleed, 
 And inly worship sorrow ; yet the eye 
 Will sparkle once again, as though the meed 
 Of happiness were won but though we try ' 
 To hide the pang, that preys the heart can never lie 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 The truth will linger there oh ! would it make- 
 Wings to itself, and flee away, we then 
 Might be at rest ! Alas ! life may forsake, 
 But Lethe's draught, though doubled, ne'er again 
 Can banish Misery from her own dark den, 
 The human heart yet Arthur vainly smiled, 
 In guise of joy, as though he scorned that men 
 Should mock his grief and once in moment wild 
 He strum! his lyre lona; mute, to love soon reconciled.
 
 34 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 I. 
 
 " Nay ! blame not the heart, that in carelessness roves 9 
 
 To sip, where each flower will afford a repast ; 
 And as fondly will vow to each fair that he loves, 
 
 That each love will be constant and true as the last : 
 Oh ! 'twere chilling to stay e'en in sunshine alone, 
 
 To bask in one beam, be it ever so bright : 
 And the heart, whose affections but one beauty own, 
 
 Will wish to rove farther to vary delight. 
 
 II. 
 
 Is the bloom of the rosebud less fragrant and fair, 
 
 When it wafts all its odours unheedingly by ? 
 Is the gale, when its coolness refreshes the air, 
 
 Less soft in its whispers, less pure in its sigh ? 
 Is the voice then that faulters affection's fond tale 
 
 To each fair, that will listen, less dear or less kind ? 
 Oh ! the heart's like that harp, which is played by the 
 gale, 
 
 And will give sigh for sigh to each moan of the wind.
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 
 
 III. 
 
 Does the bee, that so busily roams on the wing 
 
 To cull every sweet, that will proffer its bloom, 
 Does he revel less fond on the beauties of Spring, 
 
 Or light on a bud that denies its perfume ? 
 Oh, no ! every flow'ret that sighs to the air, 
 
 Lends its bloom and its beauty alike to each bee ; 
 And this heart must roam onward to seek from each fair, 
 
 Their looks and their smiles to beam kindly on me !" 
 
 XL. 
 
 'Twas a wild strain for the Childe thought not so 
 What tho' for him no jocund home should bloom, 
 And his hard fate compel him to forego 
 All that his heart was framed to love his doom 
 The fevered riot, or the sadder gloom 
 Of Solitude Oh ! there is yet one Love, 
 That fades not e'en on earth, and will resume 
 Its task of happiness in realms above, 
 And sanctify the bliss, which men with angels prove ! 
 
 n 2
 
 36 THE DREAM OF YOUTH- Canto I. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 Oh ! there are hours, when truth hath flashed so 
 
 bright, 
 We instant felt its ray, which mildly shed 
 Its holy balm, like visitant of light, 
 Bidding us turn from all that Pleasure spread 
 In false allurement round us and hath led 
 Our thoughts to better things, when heavenly peace 
 Hath poured its gentlest slumbers o'er our head, 
 When Life's mean phantoms for a moment cease, 
 And upon Virtue's bloom we fondly hope to seize. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 In vain we toil for happiness the heart 
 Is its sole resting-place ; and, like th : dove, 
 'Twill wander, till it find a verdant part 
 To rest its weary wing And will not Love, 
 Plighted on earth, and sanctified above, 
 The truant wanderer in his flight arrest ? 
 Where, where on earth shall bliss its birthright prove, 
 If not in Love ? where seek to pause and rest ? 
 Love pure as angels feel, yet still in Woman's breast.
 
 Canto 1. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 37 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Alas ! the dove may wander far and wide, 
 But it will rest at length and oh thrice blest, 
 Where it shall light ! Ambition, grandeur, pride, 
 Where are your joys? hide, hide your haughty crest 
 Thy plumes may wave in triumph but thy breast 
 Is cold and tenantless. Ah ! how could e'er 
 In such chill clime Love linger as a guest ? 
 His home the heart, he seeks his refuge there, 
 And sheds his brightest halo e'en around despair. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 And thou, pure spirit of a brighter sphere, 13 
 Though, whilst a habitant on earth, thy doom 
 Glittered in all that life deems splendid here 
 Cradled in majesty ! What though the bloom 
 Of youth and beauty did thy birth illume, 
 Daughter of Britain ! Let us not forget, 
 'Mid our vain wailings o'er thy early tomb, 
 Tho' thine were wealth, birth, grandeur, glory yet 
 Love was the brightest gem in thy bright coronet.
 
 38 THE D 1113 AM OF YOUTH. Cnnlo 1. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 Was it not Love, which led thee to forsake 
 
 The gorgeous pageantry of life, and woo 
 
 In Claremont's bowers a purer peace, and make 
 
 Thyself a feeling, so sublime, so true, 
 
 That with thy life still strengthened, as it grew ; 
 
 And in thy latest hour of agony 
 
 Did not Love reign ? Death's pangs could not 
 
 subdue 
 Love sparkled even in the dying eye, 
 And gave thy seraph form reluctant to the sky. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 In mercy flew the shaft Ah ! how could she, 
 Whose days so calm, so holy, ne'er had known 
 Aught save Life's innocent festivity : 
 Whose heart responded only to Love's tone- 
 How could she bear to see such shrine o'erthrown 
 To quit the calm retreat of youthful days, 
 The Eden fondly, vainly called her own 
 To mingle in the world's obtrusive gaze, 
 And barter all of peace for a throne's dazzling rays?.
 
 Canto 1. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 39 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Weep on, thou man of grief! the heart may ache 
 Yet e'en for thee one pensive joy remains 
 The world can ne'er despoil 'tis thine, to make 
 Thy breast the shrine, where her lov'd image reigns 
 In loneliness of worship : God ordains, 
 But man may yet in humble sorrow weep 
 What were the heart without its tears? Heav'n deigns 
 To look with pity on that sorrow' deep, 
 The pang that, though suppressed, yet will not, cannot 
 sleep, 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 Till the last lengthen'd sleep of death the grave 
 Hath yet but half its ashes 11 they, who mourn, 
 Will rest at last with her they could not save. 
 Ye widowed souls, on earth that vainly yearn 
 For happiness departed. Ye, who spurn 
 At loathed life rejoice, ye yet shall die ! 
 Your woes, your hearts be mingled in one urn : 
 While Love renewed shall then exulting cry, 
 "Oh Death! where is thy sting? Oh, Grave, thy 
 victory ?
 
 40 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I, 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 Resume vvc now our theme 'tis Heav'n's decree, 
 When the bright form of youthful innocence 
 Untimely sinks to rest such agony 
 Might bow the proudest soul to learn from hence, 
 Kow drear indeed the task for hope to wrench. 
 E'en in Life's happiest hour, its dearest stay ; 
 E'en when in rapture lingers every sense, 
 Each blessing torn in suddenness away, 
 And the heart left to mourn its desolated day ! 
 
 L. 
 
 The Childe once too had dreamed of love like this 
 And in his happier hours would string his lyre 
 To strains that only murmured notes of bliss : 
 What though perhaps he fondly would aspire 
 To joy this world can never know far higher 
 Than our clogged souls can bear who would 
 Upbraid the bosom, that would fain respire 
 In climes more suited to its heavenly mood, 
 rhan pine alone on earth in peopled solitude?
 
 Ctnto I. THE PREAM OF YOUTH. 4-1 
 
 LI. 
 
 The mind itself is clime. Whate'cr life be, 
 Gloomy or gay, 'tis temper tints the hues, 
 Which colour every scene. Ah ! could we flee, 
 Where never clashing with the world imbues 
 Our spirits with its taint, where slavish crews, 
 Whose only god is self, can never mar 
 The sweet imaginings, which Fancy wooes, 
 And makes her own, from Earth's poor hopes afar- 
 Alas! fly where we will, we 'scape not Misery's scar. 
 
 LII. 
 
 By Vaga's banks there is a scene of peace 
 A holy calm, that seems serene to brood, 
 Like halcyon on the waters one light breeze, 
 Like the lone spirit of the solitude, 
 Plays o'er the stream, that curls in gentlest mood : 
 (ilass'd in the tide, each varying image glows, 
 Hock, turret, spire, wild mountain, waving wood, 
 Wreath'cl in all shapes now lulled in sweet repose 
 Conflicting blending mingling now, like mimic foes.
 
 4-2 THE DHEAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Tempe of England ! 12 what though classic Greece 
 Can boast her vale of Beauty, thine may vie, 
 And proudly vie, with all she tells of peace 
 And loveliness : here the enamoured eye 
 May gaze on Nature in her ev'ry dye, 
 Magnificent or fair rock ridged on rock, 
 Wood crowning wood, and here the careless Wye, 
 Now lounging, listless, like a summer brook, 
 Now hurrying, foaming on beneath some sudden shock. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 Here rippling playsome on the pebbl'd shore, 
 Like fondling babe upon its mother's breast 
 Here swoln to rage, with loud and angry roar 
 Dashing its headlong stream, in vain represt 
 By shattered crags, that mock its rage, and rest 
 Their dusky mass, like giant 'mid the fray : 
 Then sinks again to peace, like lover blest 
 In Beauty's arms, and takes its furtive way 
 Through mead and hanging copse, that blend in close 
 array.
 
 Vunto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 43 
 
 LV. 
 
 Lovely, and lov'd in every change ! whate'cr 
 The form capricious Nature gives, now gay, 
 And frolicking in smiles, like youthful fair, 
 Now like some matron's stern commanding sway 1 '- 
 Fantastic now, like elfin at his play 
 Tossing thy waves in sport Whate'er thou art, 
 Thy banks shall woo me still with fond delay, 
 Young Love once more his brightest arrows dart, 
 And the frail dreams of youth to life and being start. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 Launched on thy tide the hardy peasant dares 
 The rocky stream, that tempts his vent'rous course 
 In coracle or light caique, that bears 
 His form, swerveless, erect and, without force, 
 Glides o'er the waters, that, with bubbling hoarse. 
 Sprinkle its tiny ribs, which still repel 
 The faint assault, secured by hide of horse : 
 The skilful hind still guides his scallop shell. 
 And lightly carols on, o'er tide and eddying swell
 
 44 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 In perilous security 14 now throws 
 The lengthen'd line, that tempts his finny prey 
 Now cautious leans now sits in stiff repose 
 Or, swiftly paddling o'er the spattering spray, 
 Trolls the long net, whose loaded spoil shall pay 
 His anxious hopes : and deems the burden light, 
 When, hastening homeward at the close of day, 
 His brawny shoulders bear the paltry weight 
 Of the light lathy skiffs, that well his toils requite. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 Hark ! the far halloo from yon oak crown'd hills 
 The cheering whoop the bloodhound's deep ton'd 
 
 bay 
 The calling horn the crowd's wild clamour fills 
 The valley with their din : Away ! Away ! 
 The deer is up he clears the copsewood grey ; 
 Bounds o'er the mead and scales the mountain's side 
 On on pursue the chace brooks no delay 
 The deer has gained again the forest wide 
 He finds no refuge there he seeks the faithless tide.
 
 Cunto I, THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 45 
 
 LIX. 
 
 Alas ! that plunge was ruin ; jaded, spent, 
 He vainly stems the stream on every side 
 The dastard crowd pursue thus strongly pent 
 Within his watery grave, his foes deride 
 His gasping sobs, and shout in brutal pride ; 
 E'en the light coracle amid the throng 
 Pursues its panting victim o'er the tide 
 Vain, vain his struggles vain his efforts strong 
 He dies and the skiff drags the dappl'd fool along. 
 
 LX. 
 
 'Mid scenes like these long time the Childe had stayed ; 
 Fit theme for meditation Nature's map, 
 Mortality's sage lesson, best displayed 
 In the stern havoc, and the widened gap 
 Of conq'ring time ! Ages have wrapped and wrap 
 Tow'r, castle, abbey, monuments of pride, 
 Bulwarks of strength and pow'r in the broad lap 
 Of desolation man's poor petty stride, 
 Where heroes bled before, now treads the desart void,
 
 46 THE DRF.AIVf OF YOUTH. Canto I. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 Or, it may be, where holy monks have made 
 Their cells the scene of Frolic's wayward deeds, 
 Each public prayer by private mirth repaid ; 
 Preferring merry tales to mystic creeds, 
 Pastime to penance revelry to beads.' 6 
 Or where Tradition lends her wondrous tale, 
 (The tale of wonder ever swiftly spreads) 
 How mantles scared the breasts of ladies frail 
 And even made chaste wives themselves at times turn 
 pale. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 Cradock 17 , thou valiant, yet mistrusting knight, 
 That doom'd thy spouse to this sad luckless test ! 
 Thou wast, indeed, I ween, presumptuous wight 
 To scan the secrets of a female breast ! 
 When the robe crack'd and shrunk, and half contest 
 Some traitor thought some sly imagining 
 Didst thou not wish the tell-tale cloak at rest ? 
 Husbands, beware to this one tenet cling 
 That e'en " a little knowledge is a dang 'rous thing."
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 47 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 There was a ring, which none but maids could wear 18 
 A bashful cup, that once its draught denied 
 To all but virgin lips and e'en a chair 
 Shrunk from the touch impure, ne'er yet belyed : 
 Thy girdle also, Horimel, would chide 
 The frail one's secret lapse but, Cradock, still 
 Thy robe no future ages shall deride 
 Once, once, it prov'd its fearful, honest skill, 
 Ah could it 'gain revive, and dames not dread the ill ! 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 Away with idle trifling ill it suits 
 With the deep solemn mood, which mem'ry flings 
 O'er all of life its joys its vain pursuits 
 Its fragile hopes, to which fond Fancy clings, 
 As though it wooed the sweet imaginings 
 Of early days and deemed that love again 
 Waved o'er our head his purple' 9 feathery wings 
 Alas ! man may in idle semblance feign 
 The smile mav play again the scar will yet remain,
 
 48 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. C to L 
 
 LXV. 
 
 And it will burst afresh, whene'er the tone 
 Of recollected joy shall strike the heart 
 With a forgotten spell some blessing, flown, 
 Recall its long lost form some feature dart 
 Upon the eye some name bring back the smart 
 Of disappointed hope e'en when we gaze 
 On loveliest scenes, some pang will rise to thwart 
 Th' expanding bliss some weakness yet betrays 
 The fest'ring mind's disease, which yet reluctant sways. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 But it is past the heart will own again 
 Its wonted mastery though foes have frown' d, 
 The power is left to scorn the malice vain, 
 And impotent the mind will yet rebound 
 Uncrushed,unharmed,while, grovelling on the ground, 
 Foiled Passion howls there yet is that within, 
 Unquenched, undimmed, prophetic, and profound, 
 Which mounts ascendant 'mid the world's wild din, 
 Whose hopes, tho'worn, shall yet some voiceless rapture- 
 win.
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OP YOUTH, 49 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 Lov'd Vaga's banks ! ere yet I part from thee, 
 
 Let the eye gaze once more. I owe thee all, 
 
 That life, of late, has known of bliss to me 
 
 The minister of Peace, whose gentle thrall 
 
 Has won my ling'ring stay the idle brawl 
 
 Of thy wild waves thy woods, rocks, mountains, 
 
 meads, 
 Breathe but of joy and still, where'er ties call, 
 I'll bear thy memory with me life recedes, 
 But still thy scenes shall stay to heal the heart that bleeds. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 'Tis night yet such a night it seems as day 
 Lingered in all its pride the moon on high 
 Majestically sails along her way 
 With not a cloud to dim rejoicingly, 
 Like a proud courser from her azure sky 
 Smiling in all her brilliance on the stream, 
 That frets 10 with lustre, as it ripples by, 
 And seems another heaven, liquid in beam. 
 So like r so beautiful; e'en as Youth's taintless dream. 
 
 E
 
 50 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto /. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 The woods too gladden in their jewelry 
 Of living light and e'en a brilliance pale 
 Streams on yon lone crag not a sound floats by, 
 Save where in distance the lone nightingale 
 Incessant pours her ever varying wail 
 Oh ! sure on such a night, so fair as this, 
 Seems rent Eternity's thin veil, 
 Peace seems to woo us with an holier kiss, 
 And the soul upward springs to dream of heavenly 
 bliss. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 And ye, mysterious orbs ! which shine above 
 In calmest splendour, like far isles of peace, 
 Havens of rest, and palaces of love ! 
 Ye smile the same, though human woes increase 
 Your beckoning beauty bids each passion cease, 
 That wars on such a night ; and while the eye 
 Wanders in sadness o'er your living seas 
 Of holy light, like beacons in the sky, 
 Pointing to bliss, oh ! how from earth we pant to fly,
 
 Canto I. THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 51 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 And mingle with your loveliness ! Ah ! where 
 In clime more suited to its fond desire 
 Shall the soul rest ? Tis but a dream of air, 
 Yet let it stay unblamed we must respire 
 Awhile in this vain earth, till when the fire 
 Of Passion shall be tempered, and the heart 
 Forget its tempests then we may aspire 
 To rest in such a sphere, fair as thou art, 
 Star of the morn 21 ! from foe and falser friend apart : 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 Where mortal passions ne'er have rudely been, 
 Nor Pity scorned an erring brother's woe 
 No love to mar no friends to dim the scene- 
 No hand in friendship's guise to give the blow 
 That ruins no streams of malice flow 
 Nor paltrier scandal heap upon the head 
 Failings, that scarce are fau'ts Sweet star ! not so 
 Shall e'er such faults with thee be visited, 
 But holy Peace around its calmest visions shed. 
 
 e 2
 
 52 THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Canto 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 In sooth, on such a night, 'twere sweet to dream, 
 How hearts divided may at length forget 
 The errors that have severed how the beam, 
 That shines so brightly o'er thy orb, may yet 
 Illume each smile, and the heart's deep regret, 
 By suffering cleansed from all its mortal coil, 
 Waken to life again, when it has met 
 All that it deemed its own ; and the spoil, 
 That Hatred robbed from Life, repay that Life's vain 
 toil. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 Yet man will mar his happiness the sport 
 Of each new system that by turns assails 
 His reason or his fancy each report, 
 That wildly promulgates fantastic tales, 
 Warps his belief, and each in turn prevails : 
 The child of impulse puppet of caprice, 
 In easy credence each new faith retails, 
 That robs us of our dearest dreams of peace, 
 And only bids the tide of woe and guilt increase.
 
 CitRlo L THE DREAM OF YOUTH. 53 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 And art thou then, sweet Star ! another world 
 Allied to us in suffering can strife and woe 
 And toil and guilt and shame and pride have hurled 
 Thy beauty into ruin ? Can you shew 
 A wreck so piteous, as this sphere below ? 
 Are there fond hearts in thee that vainly grieve 
 Does silent sorrow 'neath its suffering bow ? 
 Alas ! let holy men persuade 22, believe 
 My heart shall ne'er of thee such humbling vision Weave. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 Thou art too sweet for suff 'ring and thy light 
 Shines beautiful, as though thy inmates were, 
 (No age to sere no sin, no toil to blight ) 
 E'en as thou art, as bright, as pure, as fair : 
 Still to thy orb shall each fond wish repair, 
 Like lovers to their shrine howe'er men's skill 
 May deem thy sphere the sad abode of care, 
 While the heart lives to throb or passion thrill 
 Ark of my hope ! thou art, thou art my refuge still !
 
 54< THE DREAM OF YOUTH. Cunto I. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 Here let us part in peace the melted heart 
 Has scarce one thought untuned and to return 
 To Earth, were but to point afresh the dart, 
 That tortures, though it kill not ye, who mourn 
 O'er the clouds gathering on Life's darkened morn, 
 Ye will not blame the heart that wooed such spell, 
 And ye, who smile, as yet by woe unworn, 
 Smile on the tide yet calm, will darkly swell 
 Ah ! that its yawning wave would swallow. Fare ye well ! 
 
 END OF CANTO T.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 STANZA II. 
 
 1 < And who shall dare 
 
 To deem his life will end not in despair? 
 This is, it is true, no novel doctrine, and college-re- 
 collections could accumulate passages from Herodotus, 
 Sophocles, Euripides, and a long ct ccetera, who have 
 made the same humiliating confession. 
 
 STANZA III. 
 
 ~ Or weeping ask of Heaeen to sleep and dream again ! 
 Thus Caliban in the Tempest : 
 
 " And then, in dreaming, 
 
 The clouds, methought, would open and shew riches 
 Ready to drop upon me ; that, when I waked. 
 I cried to dream again."
 
 58 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 STANZA XV. 
 
 3 Yet who in torpid childhood's dull estate. 
 I feel that I am somewhat singular in this disregard of 
 the pleasures of childhood, and that Lord Byron even 
 has joined a host of others in exclaiming, 
 
 " Ah happy years ! once more who would not be a boy ?" 
 
 but it seems to me more of an ill directed sensibility, 
 than a real regret, more a fancied recollection of hap- 
 piness, than a sincere aspiring after the days of child- 
 hood. If absence of sorrow be happiness, childhood has 
 its degree of bliss but it is such negative enjoyment, 
 so little the result of our own creation, and so little 
 dependent on our own exertions, that I, for one, can 
 neither regret its departure, nor wish for its return. Its 
 innocence indeed contrasted with after-habits may per- 
 haps b': d some truant sigh to swell, but such a contrast can 
 only give a very limited value, as no one can rationally 
 attribute merit to himself, or derive consoling reflections 
 from actions, which spring unconsciously from a mind 
 yet ignorant of pollution, and thoughts which cannot as 
 yet deviate from the regular channels of simplicity. 
 The human mind is very naturally in a state of progres- 
 sion from childhood to the confines of the grave, nor can
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 59 
 
 it be denominated discontent, that makes the school-boy 
 look forward to the university, and the student to the 
 wider world, as a more brilliant theatre of display. It 
 is the generous aspiration of the soul, and though its 
 course may be impeded, or its current turned aside, the 
 principle is still the same : " Onward" is the motto 
 and who, with one spark of divinity within him, would 
 seek to quench the heaven-born Hame by returning to the 
 dull torpidity of childhood ? 
 
 STANZA XVII. 
 
 * A T / though the brand be shiver'd in our grasp. 
 Alluding to the noble arms of a noble family, whose 
 crest is a hand grasping a broken hilt, and the motto 
 beneath is " right on." 
 
 STANZV XXI. 
 
 5 Scandal, like Death, has too its thousand ways. 
 Milie viae mortis. 
 
 STANZA XXIII. 
 
 c F'iend of my stul no nwe ! 
 It is said that a Mexican prince once reproached his 
 perfidious counsellors in these strong, though perhaps.
 
 60 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 fanciful images. " Ye were the feathers of my wings, 
 and the eyelids of my eyes." But a greater master in 
 pathos has more feelingly said : " Yea ! mine own fa- 
 miliar friend, in whom 1 trusted, which did eat of my 
 bread, hath lifted up his heel against me." The lan- 
 guage of true pathos is always the language of sim- 
 plicity. The heart in its real moments of sorrow cannot 
 go out of its way to seek for extraneous images ; and I 
 know of no book that contains more beautiful and af- 
 fecting touches of anguish than the Holy Scriptures 
 nor any one that more wearies and disgusts us by its 
 laboured griefs, toiling as it were for tears, than Dr. 
 Young's " Night Thoughts." 
 
 7 The synile will not desert but the heart wears away. 
 
 How beautifully has Sorrow been described as that 
 cruel disease " which kills so slowly, none dare call it 
 murder !" 
 
 STANZA XXVII. 
 
 6 The blushing maid upon her bridal morn. 
 The Author is in possession of some very sweet lines, 
 supposed to be written by a lady, who shed tears upon 
 her wedding-dav : the conclusion of them is so simply
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 61 
 
 beautiful, that he cannot resist the temptation of tran- 
 scribing them. 
 
 " And you, to whom I now betroth 
 In sight of Heaven my nuptial oath, 
 Who, to bright Truth and Honor joined, 
 Unite each virtue of the mind, 
 If my recording bosom draws 
 One sigh misconstrue not the cause 
 Trust me, though weeping, I rejoice, 
 And, blushing, glory in my choice." 
 
 STANZA XXXIX. I. 
 
 ' Nay ! blame not the heart, that in carelessness roves. 
 
 Mr. Moore has a note to one of his Irish Melodies,whicIi 
 is so appropriate, that as I am sure I could never write 
 any thing half so good as Mr. Moore, either in poetry 
 or prose, I shall take the liberty to transcribe. 
 
 " There are so many matter of fact people, who take 
 such jeux d'esprit as this defence of inconstancy to be 
 the actual and genuine sentiments of him who writes 
 them, that they compel one, in self-defence, to be as 
 matter of fact as themselves, and to remind them, that 
 Democritus was not the worse physiologist for having 
 playfully contended that snow was black, nor Erasmus
 
 62 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 in any degree the less wise for having written an inge- 
 nious encomium on folly." 
 
 STANZA XLIV. 
 
 10 And thou, pure spirit of a brighter sphere. 
 I beg to disclaim all idea of competition with the 
 many and excellent writers, who have written or rather 
 published before me. These few lines were written 
 before I had seen Lord Byron's stanzas, or the still su- 
 perior production of Mr. Croly on the same subject. 
 
 STANZA XLVIII. 
 
 11 the grate 
 
 Hath yet but half its ashes 
 This expression occurs in the last letter of Rousseau's 
 Heloise, where Clara so beautifully and pathetically la- 
 ments the death of Heloise. 
 
 STANZA LIU. 
 
 11 Tempe of England ! 
 In a recent volume, on the Wye Tour, by the Rev. 
 T. D. Fosbrooke, author of the ingenious and excellent 
 work, entitled " British jMonachisni," the similarity of
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 6S 
 
 the Wye scenery and the Grecian Tempe is strikingly 
 illustrated. 
 
 STANZA LV. 
 
 13 now gay, 
 
 And frolicking in smiles, like youthful/air, 
 Now like some matron's stern commanding sway 
 For these two similies, which are singularly appro- 
 priate, I am indebted to Mr. Fosbrooke's compendious 
 little volume. 
 
 STANZA LVII. 
 
 14 In perilous security 
 This seemingly paradoxical expression, will, I think, be 
 fully justified to those, who have seen these little fishing 
 shells. As there may be some readers, who have not 
 seen them, I subjoin the following very correct descrip- 
 tion of them. " The natives of Hereford and Mon- 
 mouthshires call it a Thoracic or Truckle in some places 
 it is called a Coble. It is a basket, shaped like the half 
 of a walnut-shell, but shallower in proportion, and co- 
 vered on the outside with a horse's hide, or with canvas 
 (rendered impervious by some resinous compositions). 
 It has a bench on the middle, and will just hold one per-
 
 64 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 son, and is so light that the countrymen will cany it on 
 their heads, like a hood, and so travel with a small paddle 
 which serves for a stick, till they come to the river, and 
 then they launch it and step in. There is a great diffi- 
 culty in getting into one of these Truckles, for the in- 
 stant you touch it with your foot, it flies from you ; and 
 when you are in, the least inclination of the body will 
 overset it. It is very diverting to see how upright a man 
 is forced to sit in these vessels." 
 
 HEATH'S EXCURSION. 
 
 Mention of the Coracle, or vessels very similar, is 
 made in Herodotus, Caesar and Lucan. 
 
 STANZA LIX. 
 
 J * He dies and the skiff drags the dappl'd fool along. 
 This is a sight that very frequently occurs in the mag- 
 nificent woods of Lord Gage, reaching from the new 
 Weir to the Doward. Government has bought these fo- 
 rests for the cultivation of Oak, and the expulsion of the 
 Deer has been the first step of these new possessors. 
 
 Shakespeare has given the appellation of " dappled 
 fools" to deer : thus, in " As you like it :" 
 Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? 
 
 And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools. 
 
 ACT. II. SCENE I.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 65 
 
 STANZA LXI. 
 
 16 Pastime to penunce revelry to beads. 
 
 I am afraid I can shew no mercy to the memory of 
 these bons-vivants, and facts will readily confirm the ac- 
 curacy of the above statement. 
 
 " A monk of Peterborough stole jewels, &c. to give 
 them to women of the town." gunton,55. 
 
 " The Peterborough monks haunted a tavern near 
 the house." (Vid. Glnton, 55.) and again, " Taber- 
 nasque frequentando,ad matutinas cum fratribus sa>,pius 
 non consurgendo." (M.S. Ashmol. Mus. 1519. p. 70.) 
 
 The fondness of the monks, for hunting, is well known. 
 Draughts and chess too were favourite amusements. 
 " Peccavi in ludo taxillorum." (MS. Calig. A. 2. f. 223.) 
 
 " The monks think it lawful for to play when that 
 the abbot bringeth them the dice." 
 
 BARCLAY'S SHIP OF FOOLES. 
 
 One William Gloucester, a monk, is described as 
 staying out all night, " bibendo e.t rixando," Giraldus 
 says, " Unum plerumque contingere solet, ut dum po- 
 tionibus monachi immoderatis indulgent, ad rixas et 
 pugnas persilientes cum ollis ipsis liquore plenis se invi- 
 cem percutiunt." brit. moxach.
 
 66 NOTES TO CANTO T. 
 
 STANZA LXII. 
 
 17 Cradock. 
 Cradook Vreich Vras was prince of the country be- 
 tween the Severn and the Wye, and was said to be one 
 of the knights of Arthur's round table. He tried the 
 chastity of his wife by a mantle, which shrunk up if the 
 lady was not virtuous. This most hazardous experiment 
 however, to the unique honour of the lady, was better 
 rewarded than it merited ; as it appeared, that, in spite 
 of the general dissoluteness of Arthur's court, this lady 
 Tegay ap Vron (what a sweet name for Love's lips to 
 syllable!) had only offended in kissing Sir Cradock 
 " beneath the green-wood tree," before the ties of ma- 
 trimony had sanctioned Tegay's concessions. However 
 Sir Cradock's impertinent curiosity has received a suf- 
 ficient after-penalty, if we may credit Rabelais, who 
 tells us that the employment of the knights of the round 
 table is in ferrying souls over Styx, for which they 
 receive a fillip on the nose, and a crust of mouldy 
 bread. 
 
 The story of Cradock has given rise to one of Percy's 
 ballads.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 67 
 
 STANZA J.XIII. 
 
 18 There was a ring, which none but maids could wear 
 This ring was Canace's. Vide milton's il penseroso. 
 " And who had Canace to wife 
 That own'd the virtuous ring." 
 So Boiardo, Orl. Inam. I. 1. c. xiv. st. 49. Of Ange- 
 lica's magic ring, 
 
 In bocca avea quell anel vertuoso. 
 
 STANZA LXIV. 
 
 ' 5 his purple feather y wings 
 Cupid is dressed by Spenser in a green vest : by Ca- 
 tullus in yellow, 
 
 Crocina candidus in tunica, 
 and by Sappho in purple. 
 
 STANZA T.XVIIT. 
 
 10 Smiling in all her brilliance on the stream. 
 
 That frets with lustre 
 
 The expression " fretting with lustre," I have, heard 
 
 T 2
 
 68 NOTES TO CANTO I. 
 
 objected to, but I am by no means prepared to give np 
 my pet phrase. Whoever has seen, on a cloudless night, 
 the moon's beam flickering on the waters, particularly 
 on the river Wye, (on the banks of which these few 
 stanzas were written) from its frequent shallowness of 
 current, and constant interruption of hidden rock, will 
 have perceived a more than rippling of the waters 
 almost, if I may be allowed to use the expression, a 
 tossing of the wave, as if curvetting beneath its load 
 of magnificence. 
 
 " Fret" is not of course to be taken in its ordinary 
 and limited acceptation, but it also implies any visible 
 and marked agitation. Addison, indeed, " on Italy," 
 has a sentence quite to the purpose : " Of this river the 
 surface is covered with froth and bubbles, for it runs 
 along upon the fret, and is still breaking against the 
 stones that oppose its passage." This is very much the 
 character of the Wye, but I by no means wish to con- 
 fine myself to that river. I have witnessed, or at least 
 fancied I have witnessed, an almost equal appearance 
 on the still and silent lakes of Windermere and Der- 
 went-water. And if we take fret in its most probable 
 derivation from/return, (vide Johnson) the word assumes 
 a peculiar appropriateness.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO I. 69 
 
 STANZA LXXI. 
 
 21 Fair as thou art, 
 
 Star of the Morn ! 
 Tliis is the land of lovers, known afar, 
 And named the Evening and the Morning Star. 
 
 HOGG'S PILGRIMS OF THE SUN. 
 STANZA LXXV. 
 
 22 Alas / let holy men persuade believe 
 This peopling of the stars with sinful mortal beings 
 has become a fashionable mania since the publication of 
 Dr. Chalmers's most eloquent sermons ; but without en- 
 tering in a note into a discussion of this subject, I can 
 only say, if he is right, " errare mallera."
 
 I POEMS.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 TO NAPOLEON. 
 
 And is the tide of battle o'er ? 
 
 Blenched is the flush of victory ? 
 Must Conquest's song be heard no more- 
 Death's wildest song of revelry ? 
 
 Though gallant was thy latest bearing, 
 When Britain's war-cry burst on high, 
 Though gallant was thy soul of daring, 
 'Gainst Britain's bravest chivalry. 
 
 Yet what availed the peal of war, 
 Thy wonted name of victory ? 
 Thy cowring eagle fled afar 
 
 From England's sons of liberty I
 
 74 3POKMS. 
 
 Ah ! vainly sped the balls of Fate 
 'Twas not thy destined bliss to die 
 A darker doom must on thee wait, 
 
 The deep'ning curse of Memory ! 
 
 Thou, whom the morn with fond delight 
 Adored in scept'red majesty 
 A fugitive, ere noon of night, 
 In Frenzy's wildest agony. 
 
 Aye ! many a glory's faded scene 
 May wring the blood-drop from thine eye- 
 To think on joys that once have been 
 The pride and pomp of Royalty ! 
 
 Weep in thine isle thy lonely doom- 
 Be with thy joys thy crimes gone by- - 
 Remorse will tinge with deeper gloom 
 Her dark and sullen scenery.
 
 And when Life's ebbing tide shall cease, 
 And hushed is Glory's ling'ring sigh, 
 The grave at length may lend its peace. 
 And shroud thy fallen dignity ! 
 
 75 
 
 1816.
 
 POEMS. 
 
 TO LORD BYRON. 
 
 Byron ! to whom the partial Muse has given 
 The grasp of Genius, and the fire of Heaven 
 Who, like Prometheus, boldly soar'st on high 
 
 To seize with holier hand the flame of deathless Poesy : 
 Daring as he, who lashed o'er Heaven's plain 
 His father's steeds then plunged amid the main 
 Thou smil'st to see his boyhood's dazzled eye 
 
 Quail 'neath the circling blaze of Heaven's own min- 
 strelsy. 
 Whether by mountain's height, or torrent's roar, 
 Thou throw'st thy glance o'er Nature's wildest 
 
 store, 
 Or on thine own lov'd ocean stemm'st the tide, 
 The wave thy courser, and the storm thy pride, 
 
 Oh ! how my soul would pant to follow from afar, 
 
 And snatch from thy bright galaxy one falling star.
 
 POEMS. 77 
 
 ON THE STATUE OF NIOBE. 
 
 Lives there, whose soul, unblest by Pity's glow, 
 Ne'er beat responsive to the voice of Woe ? 
 There let him turn, where still the sculptor's art 
 Pours the full tide of torture o'er the heart 
 There let him view, where still th' unbending form 
 Writhes at each blow yet bows not to the storm ! 
 Sunk though that royal air, that glance of Pride, 
 Which towered o'er earth, and Heaven's dread wrath 
 
 defied 
 Sunk though that brow of awe, and dimmed that eye, 
 Which beamed high scorn and heav'n-born majesty 
 Still 'mid the wreck it seems as Memory stayed, 
 To tell how vast the pride, that could not fade. 
 Long o'er her soul that Pride had vainly striven 
 To hush the heart that bled, yet scoffed at Heaven; 
 Unmoved she saw the arrowy tempest speed 
 Unmoved she saw her lessening offspring bleed 
 Pang followed pang and death succeeded death, 
 Yet Pride triumphant choked her gasping breath.
 
 78 POEMS. 
 
 Ev'n when she caught, as fast the life-blood flowed. 
 The last fond look expiring love bestowed, 
 Scornful she stood nor tear nor sigh expressed 
 The throes that agonised the mother's breast. 
 
 * # # # 
 
 One lonely beam of fond Affection's care 
 Remained to shed its halo round Despair 
 Instant the hope her prayer might yet be heard 
 One still was left one, one might yet be spared, 
 Nature o'erflowing could not be repressed 
 The mother's feelings burst at once confest. 
 
 ^ 7F * * 
 
 Too late to succour, yet too firm to yield. 
 One interposing arm her only shield, 
 Clasps to a mother's fond protecting side 
 The guiltless martyr of that mother's pride. 
 One humbly raised in trembling dread implores 1 
 But this lone joy to bless her widowed hours ; 
 Spent on the prayer, and o'er her daughter's throes, 
 Life's chilling current to its fountain froze 
 Just heard that daughter's last convulsive groan 
 Saw her glazed eye then hardened into stone L
 
 79 
 
 Still o'er the sculptured form that look appears, 
 Which, while it pleads, of mercy yet despairs, 
 That cold calm look of Agony sedate, 
 Unbent by Anguish, but o'erpowered by Fate !
 
 80 POEMS. 
 
 THE HORSES OF LYSIPPUS. 
 
 Heard ye the shock that rent the startled world,* 
 As if all Nature from her base was hurled ? 
 The sea-god came rushed Ocean's steeds to birth 
 Mocked the mid-air and grasped at once an earth ! 
 
 Sublimely bold, the sculptor instant caught 
 The full effulgence of the Poet's thought 
 Streamed the rich splendour on the artist's sight, 
 Then flashed on earth, a monument of light ! 
 Astonished Sculpture paused in fond amaze 
 Shrunk from its work then turned again to gaze 
 Well might that gaze pursue each heav'n-sprung steed 
 Whirling through boundless space with lightning-speed, 
 Rush through th' infinity of heaven's own clime, 
 Beyond the reach of Thought the speed of Time 
 Well might that gaze each swelling vein admire 
 Neck clothed with thunder 3 and the eye of fire, 
 As if their god had lent his own bright flame 
 To blaze for ever in immortal fame ! 
 Well might ye claim a God's peculiar sway, 
 Celestial coursers of the God of Day !
 
 POEMS. 81 
 
 Immortal steeds! your race of glory run, 
 Nigh had Ambition quenched that glory's sun; 
 The Hero's bust Religion's mouldering fane 
 Tells but of Time's too desolating reign, 
 Afflicted Science mourns each wreck of taste, 
 And weeps in sadness o'er the lonely waste ; 
 Still Sculpture's gem had scoffed the hand of Time, 
 For Mercy stayed each despot's soul of crime 
 Exulting warfare stopped in mid career, 
 And lawless bandits learnt at last to spare. 
 
 Alas ! to gaze upon thy glories, still 
 Undimmed, though tost at every despot's will, 
 Proudly ye have the storms of years defied 
 The pledge of Conquest yet the sport of pride,* 
 Still, ocean-like, on thy unyielding brass 
 Tempests and years fall harmless, as they pass. 
 But where are they the gallant and the free, 
 Who bade thy glories emulate their Sea ? 
 Where the proud Sons of War, whose dauntless course 
 Impelled their conquests with resistless force ? 
 Degraded Venice ! on this lonely shore 
 Fame sits and weeps thy days of pride are o'er.
 
 82 POEMS. 
 
 Still thy steeds live to waft thee to renown 
 No Venice springs to grasp the proffered crown : 
 Still thy steeds wave upon St. Mark's high dome- 
 Alas ! they wave but over Freedom's tomb !
 
 83 
 
 THE ROSE 
 
 No ! the Rose is too gaudy by far, 
 
 Too gaily it flaunts to the wind ; 
 'Twas the emblem of Havock and War, 5 
 
 With tears and with mourning entwined : 
 Like the crimson of guilt is its flush, 
 
 Not the tint that meek Modesty wears, 
 Nor of Beauty that tremulous blush, 
 
 Which plays 'mid her smiles and her tean 
 
 Yet its sweetness awhile may imprint 
 
 Some feeling of bliss on our hearts, 
 And when flown be each beauteous tint, 
 
 What a perfume its leaf still imparts ! 
 And thus, when the garland of youth 
 
 Chill Time shall relentlessly sever, 
 The perfume of Love, and of Truth, 
 
 Dear Mary ! shall linger lor ever.
 
 84 POEMS. 
 
 LOVE AND FLORA. 
 
 u Love is but a gentle creature, 
 " Innocence in every feature, 
 
 " Flora ! kiss the boy ! 
 " Let his lips, my Flora, press thee, 
 " Rose-leaves only round them twine ; 
 " Let his infant arms caress thee, 
 " Nestle there in Love's own shrine : 
 " Harm can never there distress thee, 
 
 " Flora, kiss the boy ! 
 
 " See ! his tiny arms implore thee, 
 "' Must he kneel in vain before thee ? 
 
 " Flora, kiss the boy !" 
 Sweetly smiling, faintly blushing, 
 Flora turned to where he sued, 
 And, each infant terror hushing, 
 Gave the kiss for which he wooed : 
 Then, to hide her own cheek's flushing, 
 
 Kiss'd again the bov !
 
 POEMS. 85 
 
 RAIN AND SUNSHINE. 
 
 Why trickles, my Mary, this tear, 
 
 When Love looks so smilingly on, 
 And tenderness tries to endear 
 
 Those pleasures that still are thine own ? 
 Our hearts are too youthful for care, 
 
 Our bosoms too bloomingly glow ; 
 Nor will tears, believe me, repair 
 
 The beauty that's sullied by woe. 
 
 The rain-drop, that gleams on the rose, 
 
 *Tis true, like a brilliant appears, 
 Yet 'tis but the sunshine that throws 
 
 Such lustre from midst of its tears ; 
 So, Mary, my love, though thine eye 
 
 Be dimmed by a tear-drop awhile, 
 Let sunshine this lesson supply 
 
 To borrow thy beams from a smile.
 
 86 POEMS. 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 Her eye, where the tear, 
 
 Like the dew-drop clear, 
 Gleams bright as the star 
 
 In the heavens afar, 
 Sheds the brilliance of love. 
 
 Yet soft as the dove, 
 When he cooes to his mate. 
 Oh ! the smiles on those lips ! 
 Where Love nestles and sips 
 
 In that bower of bliss 
 Every day a fresh kiss. 
 
 There he sips and smiles. 
 So arch in his wiles, 
 Half pouting in fun ; 
 And invites us to join 
 In his nectar divine, 
 Ere the rogue ha* cloix
 
 POEMS. 87 
 
 But, rash youth, forbear ! 
 Tis the bee lingers there, 
 While the kiss you would quaff 
 Young Cupid would laugh 
 At the mischief he'd done.
 
 NOTES.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1 One humbly raised in trembling dread implores. 
 The posture of the uplifted arm may be, it is true, 
 the posture of defence, as well as of supplication, but 
 I conceive the poet at liberty to use his own interpreta- 
 tion, when the subject will admit of a doubt, as in the 
 present case. 
 
 a Heard ye the shock that rent the startled world. 
 Vide Homer's description of Neptune's ascent to earth : 
 
 three steps he only tooke 
 
 CHAPMAN'S version. 
 to suppose that Lysippus inspired his imagination by 
 a perusal of these magnificent lines of the Poet, is a 
 very pardonable licence and, at any rate, we have an 
 instance in Bossuet, who, before he sat down to compose 
 a sermon, read a chapter in the prophet Isaiah, and 
 another in Rodriguez's tract on christian perfection. 
 " The former," says Home, " fired his genius, the latter 
 tilled his heart." Doniinichino never offered to touch 
 his pencil, till he found a kind of enthusiasm or inspira- 
 tion upon him.
 
 92 NOTES. 
 
 3 Neck clothed with thunder 
 
 " Hast thou elothed his neck with thunder ?" 
 
 JOB. 
 
 * The pledge of conquest. 
 The horses of Lysippus were supposed to be sure 
 pledges of conquest and safety ; but they seem to have 
 sadly belied their virtues. Byzantium, Venice, and 
 " last not least," France and Napoleon may rue the fatal 
 dowry. 
 
 5 'Twus the emblem of Havock and War. 
 Alluding to the red and white roses of York and 
 Lancaster. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 G. WOODFALL, PRINTER, 
 ANGEL COURT, SKINNER STREET, LONDON.
 
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