Poetry Part 11

An intellect sublime, a feeling heart; But ah! his wild desires, his pa.s.sions strong, Hurried him irresistibly along Wherever Pleasure call'd, through good, or ill; No law could bridle his own proud self-will.

O! had but Virtue ruled his mighty mind, Byron had been--the first of human kind!

EPITAPH ON SIR SAMUEL ROMILLY.

What, what can knowledge, virtue, fame, avail?

Crown they with happiness our mortal state?

Ah! no: what dire, unthought-of woes a.s.sail!

O wretched Man! thou art the slave of fate.

Lo! Romilly, in pangs, expiring lies!-- His frantic hand--O horror!--doom'd to bleed?-- His wakening Conscience opes her frighted eyes-- 'O G.o.d!' she groans, 'I disavow the deed.'

His guardian Angel sheds a pitying tear;-- Then, fearless of the heavenly Judge's ire, He leads his Spirit, blus.h.i.+ng to appear, Into the holy presence of her Sire.

EPITAPH ON WILBERFORCE.

Champion of justice and humanity, He toil'd, through life, to set the Negro free: At length, Britannia spoke the G.o.dlike word-- Burst were the bonds, the shouts of Freedom heard!

Thy life-bonds, too, O Wilberforce! were riven, Thy task was done,--it was thy call to heaven!

EPITAPH.

Mortal! whoe'er thou art, that pa.s.sest by, Stop, and behold this stone with heedful eye!

Here lies a Youth, whom Death's resistless power, In health's full vigour, at the festal hour, All unprepared, alas! to meet his doom, s.n.a.t.c.h'd suddenly to an untimely tomb.

Mortal take heed!--in awful silence think, Thou stand'st upon Eternity's dread brink; O listen to Religion's warning cry!-- 'Man, know thy nature, and prepare to die!'

TRANSLATED FROM ANACREON.

Though thou hast seen my locks are gray, Ah! do not, Julia, turn away; Nor, though the bloom of Spring is thine, Disdainfully my love decline.

Behold yon wreath!--how lovely shows The snowy lily with the blus.h.i.+ng rose!

EPIGRAMS.

ON HEARING OF THE BURNING OF MOSCOW.

May European Liberty In Moscow's flames her torch relume!

And Gallic Tyranny In Moscow's ruins find a tomb!

Locke says--the soul may slumber;-- Lavater says--the soul is seen Reflected in the mien;-- The last a.s.sertion true, Proofs of the first we view In faces without number.

TO A HYPOCRITICAL CALVINIST.

By faith alone, you say, not works, Man must obtain salvation;-- If you are saved, the doctrine needs No better confirmation.

My Lady Sceptical, for want of proof, What all believe, denies; Yet she believes what all, with proof, deny, That she is wondrous wise.

'The dullest a.s.s may write In verse, that jingling stuff!'

Indeed, Sir? have you tried?

'I have.' That's proof enough.

Yon fop has strangely got it in his noddle That he excels in tragic declamation; Kemble's the favourite, and the model, That claims his praise, and prompts his imitation; Now, that the praise is just, none can deny; But the imitation gives that praise the lie: Decide, ye Critics! for 'tis hard to know,-- Is he to Kemble's fame a friend or foe?

TO JULIA.

Mark! how the Rose, when Phoebus burns, Averts her blus.h.i.+ng face; Mark! how the Sun-flower fondly turns To meet his warm embrace: Like the coy rose, when woo'd by others, be, Like the fond sun-flower, Love, when woo'd by me.

The Chancellor keeps the conscience of the King.

This seems, at first, a strange, mysterious thing; But there's a deep-laid policy in it; For, did the Chancellor not--that conscience keep, It might, perchance, be doom'd on thorns to sit; Seated on wool, it may securely sleep.

Papist and Protestant can ne'er agree.

'Pat!'--cries an Englishman--"tis clear to me, More grateful for the union you should be; Think what an honour is to Ireland done: Zounds! John Bull wed a wh.o.r.e of Babylon!'

"Murther!"--cries Pat--"he wedded her by force, And, by my shoul, she longs for a divorce."

ON THE NEW EXPERIMENT OF LIGHTING THE HOUSE OF COMMONS BY MEANS OF GAS-PIPES PLACED BETWEEN THE TWO CEILINGS.

Too long within the House has darkness dwelt, Egyptian darkness, by the nation felt; Therefore, though demagogues, whose deeds are ill, For blind debate might love that darkness still, 'Tis well the new experiment to try: A stronger, purer light--none can deny-- Will then illume the House--light coming from on high.