The present is hell, and the coming to-morrow From my eye flows no tear, from my lips flow no curses, I blast not the fiends who have hurled me from bliss; For poor is the soul which bewailing rehearses Its querulous grief, when in anguish like this. Was my eye, 'stead of tears, with red fury flakes bright'ning, Would my lips breathe a flame which no stream could assuage, On our foes should my glance lanch in vengeance its lightning, With transport my tongue give a loose to its But now tears and curses, alike unavailing, rage. Would add to the souls of our tyrants delight; Could they view us our sad separation bewailing, Their merciless hearts would rejoice at the sight. Yet still, though we bend with a feign'd resignation, Life beams not for us with one ray that can cheer; Love and hope upon earth bring no more consolation, In the grave is our hope, for in life is our fear. Oh! when, my adored, in the tomb will they place me, Since, in life, love and friendship for ever are fled? If again in the mansion of death I embrace thee, Perhaps they will leave unmolested the dead. 1805. STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOËNS. (1) THIS Votive pledge of fond esteem, Who blames it but the envious fool, In single sorrow doom'd to fade? Then read, dear girl! with feeling read, He was in sooth a genuine bard; Like his, may love be thy reward, But not thy hapless fate the same. (2) (1) Lord Strangford's translations of Camoën's Amatory Poems are mentioned by Mr. Moore as having been at this period a favourite study of Lord Byron.- E. (2) The latter years of Camoëns present a mournful picture, not merely of individual calamity, but of national ingratitude. He whose best years had been devoted to the service of his country, he who had taught her literary fame to rival the proudest efforts of Italy itself, and who seemed born to revive the remembrance of ancient gentility and Lusian heroism, was compelled to wander through the streets, a wretched dependant on casual contribution. One friend alone remained to smooth his downward AWAY with THE FIRST KISS OF LOVE. Α Βαρβιτος δε χορδαῖς Ερωτα μουνον ἠχει. ANACREON. your fictions of flimsy romance; Those tissues of falsehood which folly has wove! Give me the mild beam of the soul-breathing glance, Or the rapture which dwells on the first kiss of love. Ye rhymers, whose bosoms with phantasy glow, Whose pastoral passions are made for the grove ; From what blest inspiration your sonnets would flow, Could you ever have tasted the first kiss of love! If Apollo should e'er his assistance refuse, Or the Nine be disposed from your service to rove, Invoke them no more, bid adieu to the muse, And try the effect of the first kiss of love. I hate you, ye cold compositions of art: Though prudes may condemn me, and bigots reprove, I court the effusions that spring from the heart, Which throbs with delight to the first kiss of love. path, and guide his steps to the grave with gentleness and consolation. It was Antonio, his slave, a native of Java, who had accompanied Camoëns to Europe, after having rescued him from the waves, when shipwrecked at the mouth of the Mecon. This faithful attendant was wont to seek alms throughout Lisbon, and at night shared the produce of the day with his poor and broken-hearted master. But his friendship was employed in vain. Camoëns sank beneath the pressure of penury and disease, and died in an alms-house early in the year 1579.- STRANGFORD. Your shepherds, your flocks, those fantastical themes, Perhaps may amuse, yet they never can move: Arcadia displays but a region of dreams; What are visions like these to the first kiss of love? Oh! cease to affirm that man, since his birth, And Eden revives in the first kiss of love. When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past For years fleet away with the wings of the dove— The dearest remembrance will still be the last, Our sweetest memorial the first kiss of love. ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. (1) WHERE are those honours, Ida! once your own, (1) In March, 1805, Dr. Drury retired from his situation of head-master at Harrow, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler. — E. (2) Dr. Drury, whom I plagued sufficiently, was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father. -Diary. Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul, July, 1805. TO THE DUKE OF DORSET. (2) DORSET! whose early steps with mine have stray'd, Whom still affection taught me to defend, (1) At Harrow I was a most unpopular boy, but led latterly, and have retained many of my school friendships, and all my dislikes - except to Dr. Butler, whom I treated rebelliously, and have been sorry ever since. - Diary. [The reconciliation which took place between him and Dr. Butler, before his departure for Greece, in 1809, is (says Moore) "one of those instances of placability and pliableness with which his life abounded. Not content with this private atonement to the Doctor, it was his intention, had he published another edition of the Hours of Idleness, to substitute, for the offensive verses against that gentleman, a frank avowal of the wrong he had been guilty of in giving vent to them."- E.] (2) In looking over my papers to select a few additional poems for this second edition, I found the above lines, which I had totally forgotten, composed in the summer of 1805, a short time previous to my departure from Harrow. They were addressed to a young schoolfellow of high rank, who |