The Works of Lord Byron, vol 1 | Page 9

a chorus from the 'Prometheus' of ?schylus, were received by Dr. Drury, my grand patron (our headmaster), but coolly. No one had, at that time, the least notion that I should subside into?poetry."--'Life', p. 20. The lines are not a translation but a loose adaptation or paraphrase of part of a chorus of the 'Prometheus Vinctus', I, 528, 'sq.']
LINES
WRITTEN IN "LETTERS OF AN ITALIAN NUN AND AN ENGLISH GENTLEMAN, BY J. J. ROUSSEAU; [1] FOUNDED ON FACTS."
"Away, away,--your flattering arts?May now betray some simpler hearts;?And you_ will _smile at their believing,?And they_ shall _weep at your deceiving."
[Footnote 1: A second edition of this work, of which the title is, Letters, etc., translated from the French of Jean Jacques Rousseau, was published in London, in 1784. It is, probably, a literary forgery.]
ANSWER TO THE FOREGOING, [i] ADDRESSED TO MISS----.
Dear simple girl, those flattering arts,?(From which thou'dst guard frail female hearts,)[ii]?Exist but in imagination,?Mere phantoms of thine own creation; [iii]?For he who views that witching grace,?That perfect form, that lovely face,?With eyes admiring, oh! believe me,?He never wishes to deceive thee:?Once in thy polish'd mirror glance [iv]?Thou'lt there descry that elegance?Which from our sex demands such praises,?But envy in the other raises.--?Then he who tells thee of thy beauty, [v]?Believe me, only does his duty:?Ah! fly not from the candid youth;?It is not flattery,--'tis truth. [vi]
July, 1804.
[Footnote i: Answer to the above. [4to] ]
[Footnote ii: From which you'd. [4to] ]
[Footnote iii:
_Mere phantoms of your own creation;?For he who sees_. [4to]]
[Footnote iv:
_Once let you at your mirror glance?You'll there descry that elegance,_ [4to]]
[Footnote v:
Then he who tells you of your beauty. [4to]]
[Footnote vi:
It is not flattery, but truth. [4to]]
ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. [1]
Where are those honours, IDA! once your own,?When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne??As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace,?Hail'd a Barbarian in her C?sar's place,?So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate,?And seat Pomposus_ where your _Probus sate.?Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul, [i]?Pomposus holds you in his harsh controul;?Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd,?With florid jargon, and with vain parade;?With noisy nonsense, and new-fangled rules,?(Such as were ne'er before enforc'd in schools.) [ii]?Mistaking pedantry_ for _learning's laws,?He governs, sanction'd but by self-applause;?With him the same dire fate, attending Rome,?Ill-fated Ida! soon must stamp your doom:?Like her o'erthrown, for ever lost to fame,?No trace of science left you, but the name,
HARROW, July, 1805.
[Footnote 1: In March, 1805, Dr. Drury, the Probus of the piece, retired from the Head-mastership of Harrow School, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler, the Pomposus. "Dr. Drury," said Byron, in one of his note-books, "was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father." Out of affection to his late preceptor, Byron advocated the election of Mark Drury to the vacant post, and hence his dislike of the successful candidate. He was reconciled to Dr. Butler before departing for Greece, in 1809, and in his diary he says, "I treated him rebelliously, and have been sorry ever since." (See allusions in and notes to "Childish Recollections," pp. 84-106, and especially note I, p. 88, notes I and 2, p. 89, and note I, p. 91.)] ]
[Footnote i:
----but of a narrower soul.--[4to]]
[Footnote ii:
Such as were ne'er before beheld in schools.--[4to]]
EPITAPH ON A BELOVED FRIEND.[1]
[Greek: Astaer prin men elampes eni tsuoisin hepsos.]
[Plato's Epitaph (Epig. Gr?c., Jacobs, 1826, p. 309),?quoted by Diog. Laertins.]
Oh, Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear! [i]?What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'd bier!?What sighs re-echo'd to thy parting breath,?Whilst thou wast struggling in the pangs of death!?Could tears retard the tyrant in his course;?Could sighs avert his dart's relentless force;?Could youth and virtue claim a short delay,?Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey;?Thou still hadst liv'd to bless my aching sight,?Thy comrade's honour and thy friend's delight.?If yet thy gentle spirit hover nigh?The spot where now thy mouldering ashes lie,?Here wilt thou read, recorded on my heart,?A grief too deep to trust the sculptor's art.?No marble marks thy couch of lowly sleep,?But living statues there are seen to weep;?Affliction's semblance bends not o'er thy tomb,?Affliction's self deplores thy youthful doom.?What though thy sire lament his failing line,?A father's sorrows cannot equal mine!?Though none, like thee, his dying hour will cheer,?Yet other offspring soothe his anguish here:?But, who with me shall hold thy former place??Thine image, what new friendship can efface??Ah, none!--a father's tears will cease to flow,?Time will assuage an infant brother's woe;?To all, save one, is consolation known,?While solitary Friendship sighs alone.
HARROW, 1803. [2]
[Footnote i:
_Oh Boy! for ever loved, for ever dear!?What fruitless tears have wash'd thy honour'd bier;?What sighs re-echoed to thy parting breath,?Whilst thou wert struggling in the pangs of death.?Could tears have turn'd the tyrant in his course,?Could sighs have