As a farther testimony of the royal favour, Lord Byron was made Field-Marshal-General of all his Majesty's Forces in Worcestershire, Shropshire, Cheshire, and North Wales; and when his uncle, Sir Nicholas, was made prisoner by the rebels at the battle of Edge Hill, he was appointed to the government of the city of Chester in his room. In this capacity he rendered great service to the Royal cause, particularly by defeating Sir Thomas Fairfax, and relieving Montgomery Castle, for which the Parliament passed a vote, excepting him from pardon, and sequestrating his estates. His success was not, however, always proportioned to his valour or his loyalty; for, being intrusted with the command of the Irish forces, he was induced to make a winter campaign, relying on the hardihood of his troops, who, as Lord Clarendon says, 'being used to little ease in Ireland, the season of the year made little impression on them: and his enterprise, though prosperous enough at the beginning, was afterwards wholly defeated. Hume gives the following account of it:

'The forces brought from Ireland were landed at Mostyne, in North Wales; and, being put under the command of Lord Byron, they besieged and took the castles Hawarden, Beeston, Acton, and Deddington-house. No place in Cheshire, or the neighborhood, now adhered to the Parliament, except Nantwich; and to this town Byron laid siege during the depth of winter. Sir Thomas Fairfax, alarmed at so considerable a progress of the Royalists, assembled an army of four thousand men in Yorkshire, and, having joined Sir William Brereton, was approaching to the camp of the enemy. Byron and his soldiers, elated with the successes obtained in Ireland, had entertained the most profound contempt for the Parliamentary forces; a disposition which, if confined to the army, may be regarded as a good presage of victory; but, if it extend to the General, is the most probable forerunner of a defeat.—(25th Jan.) Fairfax suddenly attacked the camp of the Royalists. The swelling of the river by a thaw divided one part of the army from the other. That part exposed to Fairfax, being beaten from their post, retired into the church of Acton, and were all taken prisoners: the other retreated with precipitation. And thus was dissipated, or rendered useless, the body of forces which had been drawn from Ireland; and the Parliamentary party revived in those north-west counties of England.'

On the other hand, the King reposed the most entire confidence in this loyal subject, and appointed him Governor to the Duke of York, with whom he escaped to Holland, when the unfortunate monarch be

came a prisoner in the Isle of Wight. Lord Byron afterwards accompanied his royal pupil in Flanders, under the immortal Turenne. He died at Paris, in 1652, enjoying the reputation of having served his sovereign with unshaken fidelity and activity through the most disastrous times. Though married twice, he left no issue, and was succeeded in the title and estates by his second brother, Sir Richard Byron, who was knighted by Charles I. for his conduct at the battle of Edge Hill. He was also appointed Governor, first of Appleby Castle, in Westmorland, and next of Newark, which place he defended with great honour. This second Lord Byron died in 1679, and was succeeded by his eldest son William, who married Elizabeth, the daughter of John Viscount Chaworth, of the kingdom of Ireland; by whom he had five sons, all of whom died young, except William, the fourth lord, born in 1669. He became Gentleman of the Bedchamber to Prince George of Denmark, with whom he was a great favorite. His first wife, Mary, daughter of John Earl of Bridgewater, died of the small-pox eleven weeks after her nuptials. By his second wife, the daughter of William Bentinck, Earl of Portland, he had three sons, who all died before their father. His third wife, Frances, daughter of William Lord Berkeley, of Stratton, brought him five sons and a daughter.

The following Elegy by Lord Byron is peculiarly interesting, as well for the idea which it conveys of the feelings excited, at a very early period of his life, in the mind of the noble poet, on a retrospect of the glories of his ancestors, as because it seems to contain the promise of that high excellence which was afterwards so gloriously fulfilled.

ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.

It is the voice of years that are gone! they roll before me with all

their deeds.

OSSIAN.

Newstead! fast falling, once resplendent dome!
Religion's shrine! repentant Henry's* pride!
Of warriors, monks, and dames, the cloistered tomb,
Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide ;—

Hail to thy pile! more honoured in thy fall

Than modern mansions in their pillared state;
Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,

Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.

• Henry II. founded Newstead, soon after the murder of Thomas à Becket.

No mail-clad serfs,* obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross+ demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board,
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band.
Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye

Retrace their progress through the lapse of time,
Marking each ardent youth, ordained to die,
A votive pilgrim in Judea's clime.

But not from thee, dark pile! departs the chief;
His feudal realm in other regions lay;
In thee the wounded conscience courts relief,
Retiring from the garish blaze of day.

Yes, in thy gloomy cells and shades profound,
The monk abjured a world he ne'er could view ;
Or blood-stained Guilt repenting solace found,
Or Innocence from stern Oppression flew.

A monarch bade thee from that wild arise,

Where Sherwood's outlaws once were wont to prowl;
And Superstition's crimes, of various dyes,
Sought shelter in the priest's protecting cowl.
Where now the grass exhales a murky dew,
The humid pall of life-extinguished clay,

In sainted fame the sacred fathers grew,

Nor raised their pious voices but to pray,

Where now the bats their wavering wings extend,
Soon as the Gloaming‡ spreads her waning shade,
The choir did oft their mingling vespers blend,

Or matin orisons to Marys paid.

Years roll on years; to ages ages yield;
Abbots to abbots in a line succeed:
Religion's charter their protecting shield,

Till Royal sacrilege their doom decreed.

This word is used by Walter Scott, in his poem The Wild Huntsman,' synonymous with vassal.

↑ The red cross was the badge of the Crusaders.

! ✦ As 'Gloaming,' the Scotish word for Twilight, is far more poetical, and has

been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore, in

his Letters to Burns, I have ventured to use it on account of its harmony.

§ The priory was dedicated to the Virgin.

And bids Devotion's hallowed echoes cease.

Vain is each threat, or supplicating prayer,
He drives them, exiles, from their blessed abode,
To roam a dreary world, in deep despair,

No friend, no home, no refuge, but their God.

Hark! how the hall, resounding to the strain,
Shakes with the martial music's novel din !
The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign,
High-crested banners, wave thy walls within.

Of changing sentiurels the distant hum,

The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnished arms,
The braying trumpet and the hoarser drum,

Unite in concert with increased alarms.

An abbey once, a regal fortresst now,
Encircled by insulting rebel powers;

War's dread machines o'erhang thy threatening brow,
And dart destruction in sulphureous showers.

Ah! vain defence! the hostile traitor's siege,

Though oft repulsed by guile, o'ercomes the brave;
His thronging foes oppress the faithful liege;
Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave.

Not unavenged the raging baron yields;

The blood of traitors smears the purple plain;
Unconquered still, his falchion there he wields,
And days of glory yet for him remain.

Still in that hour the warrior wished to strew
Self-gathered laurels on a self-sought grave;

But Charles' protecting Genius hither flew,

The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save.

• At the dissolution of the monasteries Henry VIII. bestowed Newstead Abbey on Sir John Byron.

+ Newstead sustained a considerable siege in the war between Charles I. and his Parliament.

Trembling, she snatched him from the unequal strife,
In other fields the torrent to repel;
For nobler combats here reserved his life,

To lead the band where god-like Falkland+ fell.
From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given,
While dying groans their painful requiem sound,
Far different incense now ascends to Heaven,
Such victims wallow on the gory ground.
There many a pale and ruthless robber's corse,
Noisome and ghast, defiles thy sacred sod;
O'er mingling man, and horse commixed with horse,
Corruption's heap, the savage spoilers trod.
Graves, long with rank and sighing leaves o'erspread,
Ransacked, resign, perforce, their mortal mould;
From ruffian fangs escape not e'en the dead,
Raked from repose in search of buried gold.
Hushed is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre,
The minstrel's palsied hand reclines in death;
No more he strikes the quivering chords with fire,
Or sings the glories of the martial wreath.
At length, the sated murderers, gorged with prey,
Retire; the clamour of the fight is o'er :
Silence again resumes her awful sway,

And sable Horror guards the massy door.
Here Desolation holds her dreary court;
What satellites declare her dismal reign!
Shrieking their dirge, ill-omened birds resort,
To fit their vigils in the holy fane.
Soon a new morn's restoring beams dispel
The clouds of anarchy from Britain's skies:
The fierce usurper seeks his native hell,

And Nature triumphs as the tyrant dies.

Lord Byron, and his brother, Sir William, held high commands in the Royal army: the former was General in Chief in Ireland, Lieutenant of the Tower, and Governor to James Duke of York, afterwards the unhappy James II.; the latter bad a principal share in many actions. Vide Clarendon, Hume, &c.

+ Lucius Cary, Lord Viscount Falkland, the most accomplished man of his age, was killed at the battle of Newberry, charging in the ranks of Lord Byron s regiment of cavalry.