Go where I will, to me thou art the same The first were nothing had I still the last, Reversed for him our grandsire's fate of yore, He had no rest at sea, nor I on shore. If my inheritance of storms hath been In other elements, and on the rocks I have sustain'd my share of worldly shocks, I have been cunning in mine overthrow, The careful pilot of my proper woe. Mine were my faults, and mine be their reward, My whole life was a contest, since the day That gave me being, gave me that which marr'd The gift,- -a fate, or will, that walk'd astray; And I at times have found the struggle hard, And thought of shaking off my bonds of clay : But now I fain would for a time survive, If but to see what next can well arrive. Kingdoms and empires in my little day I have outlived, and yet I am not old; And when I look on this, the petty spray Of my own years of trouble, which have roll'd Like a wild bay of breakers, melts away: Something I know not what-does still uphold A spirit of slight patience; - not in vain, Even for its own sake, do we purchase pain. Perhaps the workings of defiance stir —or perhaps a cold despair, Brought on when ills habitually recur,— Perhaps a kinder clime, or purer air, (For even to this may change of soul refer, And with light armour we may learn to bear,) Have taught me a strange quiet, which was not The chief companion of a calmer lot. Within me, sent home at the time for publication, in case Mrs. Leigh should sanction it. "There is," he says, "amongst the manuscripts an Epistle to my Sister, on which I should wish her opinion to be consulted before publication; if she objects, of course omit it." On the 5th of October he writes, "My sister has decided on the omission of the lines. Upon this point, her option will be followed. As I have no copy of them, I request that you will preserve one for me in MS.; for I never can remember a line of that nor any other composition of mine. God help me! if I proceed in this scribbling, I shall have frittered away my mind before I am thirty; but poetry is at times a real relief to me. To-morrow I am for Italy." The Epistle was first given to the world in 1830.] [Admiral Byron was remarkable for never making a voyage without a tempest. He was known to the sailors by the facetious name of " Foul-weather Jack." Here are the Alpine landscapes which create But something worthier do such scenes inspire: For much I view which I could most desire, Lovelier, not dearer, than our own of old. Oh that thou wert but with me!- - but I grow The solitude which I have vaunted so Has lost its praise in this but one regret; And the tide rising in my alter'd eye. I did remind thee of our own dear Lake, 2 By the old Hall which may be mine no more. Leman's is fair; but think not I forsake The sweet remembrance of a dearer shore: Sad havoc Time must with my memory make, Ere that or thou can fade these eyes before; Though, like all things which I have loved, they are Resign'd for ever, or divided far. The world is all before me; I but ask Of Nature that with which she will comply - She was my early friend, and now shall be I can reduce all feelings but this one; And that I would not; - for at length I see Such scenes as those wherein my life begun. The earliest-even the only paths for me Had I but sooner learnt the crowd to shun, I had been better than I now can be ; The passions which have torn me would have slept; I had not suffer'd, and thou hadst not wept. With false Ambition what had I to do? "But, though it were tempest-toss'd, He returned safely from the wreck of the Wager (in Anson's voyage), and circumnavigated the world, many years after, as commander of a similar expedition.] 2 The Lake of Newstead Abbey. [Thus described in Don Juan: "Before the mansion lay a lucid lake, Broad as transparent, deep, and freshly fed My years have been no slumber, but the prey Of ceaseless vigils; for I had the share Of life which might have fill'd a century, Before its fourth in time had pass'd me by. And for the remnant which may be to come I am content; and for the past I feel Not thankless,- for within the crowded sum Of struggles, happiness at times would steal, And for the present, I would not benumb My feelings farther. Nor shall I conceal That with all this I still can look around, And worship Nature with a thought profound. For thee, my own sweet sister, in thy heart I know myself secure, as thou in mine; We were and are-I am, even as thou artBeings who ne'er each other can resign; It is the same, together or apart, From life's commencement to its slow decline We are entwined-let death come slow or fast, The tie which bound the first endures the last! LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL. 1 AND thou wert sad-yet I was not with thee! And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near; Methought that joy and health alone could be Where I was not. -and pain and sorrow here. And is it thus ? - it is as I foretold, And shall be more so; for the mind recoils Upon itself, and the wreck'd heart lies cold, While heaviness collects the shatter'd spoils. It is not in the storm nor in the strife We feel benumb'd, and wish to be no more, But in the after-silence on the shore, When all is lost, except a little life. I am too well avenged!-but 't was my right; Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent To be the Nemesis who should requite Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. Mercy is for the mercifu!!—if thou Hast been of such, 't will be accorded now. [These verses were written immediately after the failure of the negotiation for a reconciliation before Lord Byron left Switzerland for Italy, but were not intended for the public eye as, however, they have recently found their way into circulation, we include them in this collection.] 2["Lord Byron had at least this much to say for himself, that he was not the first to make his domestic differences a topic of public discussion. On the contrary, he saw himself, ere any fact but the one undisguised and tangible one was, or could be known, held up every where, and by every art of malice, as the most infamous of men,- because he had parted from his wife. He was exquisitively sensitive: he was wounded at once by a thousand arrows; and all this with the most perfect and indignant knowledge, that of all who were assailing him not one knew any thing of the real merits of the case. Did he right, then, in publishing those squibs and tirades? No, certainly it would have been nobler, better, wiser far, to have utterly scorned the assaults of such enemies, and taken no notice, of any kind, of them. But, because this young, hot-blooded, proud, patrician poet did not, amidst the exacerbation of feelings which he could not control, act in precisely the most dignified and wisest of all possible manners of action, are we entitled, is the world at large entitled, to issue a broad sentence of vituperative condemnation? Do we know all that he had suffered ?have we imagination enough to comprehend what he suffered, under circumstances such as these?-have we been tried in similar circumstances, whether we could feel the wound unflinchingly, and keep the weapon quiescent in the hand that trembled with all the excitements of insulted privacy, honour, and faith? Let people consider for a moment what it is that they demand when they insist upon a poet of Byron's class Thy nights are banish'd from the realms of sleep!— For thou art pillow'd on a curse too deep; I have had many foes, but none like thee; Hadst nought to dread in thy own weakness shielded, And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spareAnd thus upon the world- trust in thy truthAnd the wild fame of my ungovern'd youth On things that were not, and on things that are Even upon such a basis hast thou built A monument, whose cement hath been guilt! Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, All found a place in thy philosophy. The means were worthy, and the end is wonI would not do by thee as thou hast done! 2 September, 1816. abstaining altogether from expressing in his works any thing of his own feelings in regard to any thing that immediately concerns his own history. We tell him in every possible form and shape, that the great and distinguishing merit of his poetry is the intense truth with which that poetry expresses his own personal feelings. We encourage him in every possible way to dissect his own heart for our entertainment we tempt him by every bribe most likely to act powerfully on a young and imaginative man, to plunge into the darkest depths of self-knowledge; to madden his brain with eternal self-scrutinies, to find his pride and his pleasure in what others shrink from as torture- we tempt him to indulge in these dangerous exercises, until they obviously acquire the power of leading him to the very brink of frenzy - we tempt him to find, and to see in this perilous vocation, the staple of his existence, the food of his ambition, the very essence of his glory, and the moment that, by habits of our own creating, at least of our own encouraging and confirming, he is carried one single step beyond what we happen to approve of, we turn round with all the bitterness of spleen, and reproach him with the unmanliness of entertaining the public with his feelings in regard to his separation from his wife. This was truly the conduct of a fair and liberal public! To our view of the matter, Lord Byron, treated as he had been, tempted as he had been, and tortured and insulted as he was at the moment, did no more forfeit his character by writing what he did write upon that unhappy occasion, than another man, under circumstances of the same nature, would have done, by telling something of his mind about it to an intimate friend across the fire. The public had forced him into the habits of familiarity, and they received his confidence with nothing but anger and scorn."- LOCKHART.] Monody ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. R. B. SHERIDAN.1 SPOKEN AT DRURY-LANE THEATRE. 2 WHEN the last sunshine of expiring day Even as the tenderness that hour instils Hath pass'd from day to darkness-to whose hour [Mr. Sheridan died the 7th of July, 1816, and this monody was written at Diodati on the 17th, at the request of Mr. Douglas Kinnaird. "I did as well as I could," says Lord Byron," but where I have not my choice, I pretend to answer for nothing." A proof-sheet of the poem, with the words" by request of a friend" in the titlepage, having reached him," I request you," he says, " to expunge that same, unless you please to add, by a person of quality,' or of wit and humour.' It is sad trash, and must have been done to make it ridiculous."] 2 [Sheridan's own monody on Garrick was spoken from the same boards, by Mrs. Yates, in March, 1779. "One day," says Lord Byron," I saw him take it up. He lighted upon the dedication to the Dowager Lady Spencer. On seeing it, he flew into a rage and exclaimed, that it must be a forgery, as he had never dedicated any thing of his to such a d-d canting,' &c. &c. and so he went on for half an hour abusing his own dedication, or at least the object of it. If all writers were equally sincere, it would be ludicrous.". Byron Diary, 1821.] 3 [See Fox, Burke, and Pitt's eulogy on Mr. Sheridan's speech on the charges exhibited against Mr. Hastings in the House of Commons. Mr. Pitt entreated the House to adjourn, to give time for a calmer consideration of the question than could then occur after the immediate effect of that oration. "Before my departure from England," says Gibbon," I was present at the august spectacle of Mr. Hastings's trial in Westminster Hall. It is not my province to absolve or condemn the governor of India; but Mr. Sheridan's eloquence demanded my applause; nor could I hear without emotion the personal compliment which he paid me in the presence of the British nation. This display of genius blazed four successive days," &c. On being asked by a brother Whig, at the conclusion of the speech, how he came to compliment [pride. But small that portion of the wondrous whole, And here, oh! here, where yet all young and warm, Which still the splendour of its orb betrays. But should there be to whom the fatal blight Of failing Wisdom yields a base delight, Men who exult when minds of heavenly tone Jar in the music which was born their own, Still let them pause-ah! little do they know That what to them seem'd Vice might be but Woe. 5 Gibbon with the epithet "luminous," Sheridan answered, in a half whisper," I said voluminous.'"] 4["I heard Sheridan only once, and that briefly; but I liked his voice, his manner, and his wit. He is the only one of them I ever wished to hear at greater length.". Byron Diary, 1821.] 5 ["Once I saw Sheridan cry, after a splendid dinner. I had the honour of sitting next him. The occasion of his tears was some observation or other upon the subject of the sturdiness of the Whigs in resisting office and keeping to their principles. Sheridan turned round: Sir, it is easy for my Lord G. or Earl G. or Marquis B. or Lord H., with thousands upon thousands a year, some of it either presentiy derived or inherited in sinecure or acquisitions from the public money, to boast of their patriotism and keep aloof from temptation: but they do not know from what temptation those have kept aloof who had equal pride, at least equal talents, and not unequal passions, and nevertheless knew not in the course of their lives what it was to have a shilling of their own.' And in saying this he wept. I have more than once heard him say, 'that he never had a shilling of his own.' To be sure, he contrived to extract a good many of other people's. In 1815, I found him at my lawyer's. After mutual greetings, he retired. Before recurring to my own business, I could not help inquiring that of Sheridan. Oh,' replied the attorney, the usual thing! to stave off an action.'Well,' said I, and what do you mean to do?'-'Nothing at all for the present,' said he: would you have us proceed against old Sherry? what would be the use of it ?' and here he began laughing, and going over Sheridan's good gifts of conversation. Such was Sheridan! he could soften an attorney ! There has been nothing like it since the days of Orpheus."-Byron Diary, 1821.] Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze Driven o'er the lowering atmosphere that nurst Thoughts which have turn'd to thunder-scorch and burst. 2 But far from us and from our mimic scene To mourn the vanish'd beam-and add our mite He was your brother-bear his ashes hence! The Dream. ° I. OUR life is twofold: Sleep hath its own world, A boundary between the things misnamed Death and existence: Sleep hath its own world, And a wide realm of wild reality, And dreams in their developement have breath, And tears, and tortures, and the touch of joy; They leave a weight upon our waking thoughts, They take a weight from off our waking toils, [This was not fiction. Only a few days before his death, Sheridan wrote thus to Mr. Rogers: I am absolutely undone and broken-hearted. They are going to put the carpets out of window, and break into Mrs. S.'s room and take me: 150. will remove all difficulty. For God's sake let me see you!" Mr. Moore was the immediate bearer of the required sum. This was written on the 15th of May. On the 14th of July, Sheridan's remains were deposited in Westminster Abbey, his pall-bearers being the Duke of Bedford, the Earl of Lauderdale, Earl Mulgrave, the Lord Bishop of London, Lord Holland, and Earl Spencer.] 2 ["Abandon'd by the skies, whose beams have nurst Their very thunders, lighten-scorch-and burst." MS.] 3 Fox-Pitt-Burke. ["When Fox was asked, which he thought the best speech he had ever heard, he replied, Sheridan's on the impeachment of Hastings in the House of Commons. When he made it, Fox advised him to speak it over again in Westminster Hall on the trial, as nothing better could be made of the subject: but Sheridan made his new speech as different as possible, and, according to the best judges, very inferior, notwithstanding the panegyric of Burke, who exclaimed during the delivery of some passages of itThere, that is the true style-something between poetry and prose, and better than either.""-Byron Diary, (from Lord Holland,) 1821.] ["In society I have met Sheridan frequently. He was superb! I have seen him cut up Whitbread, quiz Madame de Staël, annihilate Colman, and do little less by some others of good fame and ability. I have met him at all places and parties They do divide our being; they become -at Whitehall with the Melbournes, at the Marquis of Tavistock's, at Robins's the auctioneers, at Sir Humphry Davy's, at Sam Rogers's-in short, in most kinds of company, and always found him convivial and delightful."- Byron Diary, 1821.] 5 ["Lord Holland told me a curious piece of sentimentality in Sheridan. The other night we were all delivering our respective and various opinions upon him and other hommes marquans, and mine was this:Whatever Sheridan has done or chosen to do has been par excellence always the best of its kind. He has written the best comedy (School for Scandal), the best drama (in my mind, far beyond that St. Giles's lampoon, the Beggars' Opera), the best farce (the Critic-it is only too good for a farce), and the best address (Monologue on Garrick), and, to crown all, delivered the very best oration (the famous Begum speech) ever conceived or heard in this country.' Somebody told Sheridan this the next day, and, on hearing it, he burst into tears! Poor Brinsley! if they were tears of pleasure, I would rather have said these few, but most sincere, words, than have written the Iliad, or made his own celebrated philippic. Nay, his own comedy never gratified me more than to hear that he had derived a moment's gratification from any praise of mine."-Byron Diary, Dec. 17. 1813.] 6 [In the first draught of this poem, Lord Byron had entitled it "The Destiny." Mr. Moore says, "it cost him many a tear in writing," and justly characterises it as "the most mournful, as well as picturesque story of a wandering life' that ever came from the pen and heart of man.' It was composed at Diodati, in July 1816.] Is not the past all shadow? What are they? II. I saw two beings in the hues of youth As 't were the cape of a long ridge of such, A touch of hers, his blood would ebb and flow, But she in these fond feelings had no share: [why? and -- Of a time-honour'd race. 2-It was a name And on the summit of that hill she stood 2 1 [ "she was his sight, For never did he turn his glance until Her own had led by gazing on an object."-MS.] [ See antè, p. 384.-" Our union," said Lord Byron in 1821,"would have healed feuds in which blood had been shed by our fathers-it would have joined lands, broad and rich— it would have joined at least one heart and two persons not ill-matched in years (she is two years my elder)-and-and -and-what has been the result!"] 3[The picture which Lord Byron has here drawn of his youthful love shows how genius and feeling can elevate the realities of this life, and give to the commonest events and objects an undying lustre. The old hall at Annesley, under the name of the antique oratory," will long call up to fancy the “maiden and the youth" who once stood in it; while the Looking afar if yet her lover's steed A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. The Boy of whom I spake; - he was alone, And pale, and pacing to and fro: anon He sate him down, and seized a pen, and traced And with his teeth and quivering hands did tear The Lady of his love re-enter'd there; Was traced, and then it faded, as it came; IV. A change came o'er the spirit of my dream. image of the "lover's steed," though suggested by the unromantic race-ground of Nottingham, will not the less conduce to the general charm of the scene, and share a portion of that light which only Genius could shed over it.- MOORE.] ["I had long been in love with M. A. C., and never told it, though she had discovered it without. I recollect my sensations, but cannot describe them, and it is as well."-Byron Diary, 1822.] 5 [This is true keeping-an Eastern picture perfect in its foreground, and distance, and sky, and no part of which is so dwelt upon or laboured as to obscure the principal figure. It is often in the slight and almost imperceptible touches that the hand of the master is shown, and that a single spark, struck from his fancy, lightens with a long train of illumination that of the reader.- SIR WALTER SCOTT.] |