SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS. BY LORD BYRON. Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star! Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far, So gleams the past, the light of other days, Which shines, but warms not, with its powerless rays, A night-beam sorrow watcheth to behold, Distinct, but distant; clear-but, oh how cold! IMITATED. TO THE HONOURABLE Son of the faithless melancholy rat! How like art thou to him remembered well, Clever, but callous; shrewd-but tame and cold. K ENGLISH MELODIES. No. V. "THE Leader's Lament," which we lay before our readers, in this number, is a happy imitation of the lines, which have within this day or two appeared, entitled "Fare thee well," and attributed to the pen of Lord BYRON; and we think we may venture to say, that though our imitation does not crawl servilely on all fours, it possesses almost as much tenderness and pathos as the original:* THE LEADER'S LAMENT. BY THE RIGHT HON. GEORGE PONSONBY. Fare ye well-and if for Easter Still for Easter fare ye well Till the call ye now released are, 'Gainst the Serjeant none rebel. * I have not thought it necessary to reprint this original, for several reasons. - E. On those seats no longer snore ye, While that placid sleep came o'er ye, Would, before the Session's over, Then at last they might discover Though I may grow rather prozy, Though my jokes fall flat and dead, Why must you, the first, get dozy? • Mr. Ponsonby on some occasion had used the word snouch, with what meaning is not clear.-E. Yet-oh yet-yourselves deceive not Though it be a bore to stay, Thus to treat your Chief, believe not, Can to office pave the way. Still those ministerial faces Grin at us -still ours look blue And our curse!—they keep their places Still, whate'er we say or do. Then when "Ay," they loudly hollow, Will ye stoutly echo "No!" And are all prepared to follow If rival BROUGHAM should press ye, my Listen not to him, I pray Will ye sorely thus distress me, Poor old Snouch thus turn away? |