STANZAS FOR MUSIC. 1 "O Lachrymarum fons, tenero sacros GRAY'S Poemata. THERE's not a joy the world can give like that it takes away, When the glow of early thought declines in feeling's dull decay; 'Tis not on youth's smooth cheek the blush alone, which fades so fast, But the tender bloom of heart is gone, ere youth itself be past. Then the few whose spirits float above the wreck of happiness Are driven o'er the shoals of guilt or ocean of excess : The magnet of their course is gone, or only points in vain The shore to which their shiver'd sail shall never stretch again. [These verses were given by Lord Byron to Mr. Power, of the Strand, who has published them, with very beautiful music by Sir John Stevenson."I feel merry enough to send you a sad song. An event, the death of poor Dorset, (see ante, Vol I. p. 37.) and the recollection of what I once felt, and ought to have felt now, but could not-set me pondering, and finally into the train of thought which you have in your hands. I wrote them with a view to your setting them, and as a present to Power, if he would accept the words, and you did not think yourself degraded for once in a way, by marrying them to music. I don't care what Power says to secure the property of the song, so that it is not complimentary to me, nor any thing about condescending' or noble author- both 'vile Then the mortal coldness of the soul like death itself comes down ; It cannot feel for others' woes, it dare not dream its own; That heavy chill has frozen o'er the fountain of our tears, And though the eye may sparkle still, 't is where the ice appears. Though wit may flash from fluent lips, and mirth distract the breast, Through midnight hours that yield no more their, former hope of rest; 'Tis but as ivy-leaves around the ruin'd turret wreath, All green and wildly fresh without, but worn and grey beneath. Oh could I feel as I have felt, or be what I have. been, Or weep as I could once have wept, o'er many a vanish'd scene; As springs in deserts found seem sweet, all brackish though they be, So, midst the wither'd waste of life, those tears would flow to me.' March, 1815. 1["Do you remember the lines I sent you early last year? I don't wish (like Mr. Fitzgerald) to claim the character of Vates,' in all its translations, - but were they not a little prophetic? I mean those beginning, There's not a joy the world can give,' &c., on which I pique myself as being the truest, though the most melancholy, I ever wrote."- Byron Letters, March, 1816.] STANZAS FOR MUSIC. THERE be none of Beauty's daughters Is thy sweet voice to me: And the midnight moon is weaving So the spirit bows before thee, With a full but soft emotion, Like the swell of Summer's ocean. ON NAPOLEON'S ESCAPE FROM ELBA. ONCE fairly set out on his party of pleasure, Taking towns at his liking, and crowns at his leisure, From Elba to Lyons and Paris he goes, Making balls for the ladies, and bows to his foes. 1 March 27. 1815. 1["I can forgive the rogue for utterly falsifying every line of mine Ode-which I take to be the last and uttermost stretch of human magnanimity. Do you remember the story of a certain ODE FROM THE FRENCH, I. We do not curse thee, Waterloo ! Though Freedom's blood thy plain bedew ; With that of him whose honour'd grave As then shall shake the world with wonder abbé, who wrote a treatise on the Swedish constitution, and proved it indissoluble and eternal? Just as he had corrected the last sheet, news came that Gustavus the Third had destroyed this immortal government. Sir,' quoth the abbé,' the King of Sweden may overthrow the constitution, but not my book!!' I think of the abbé, but not with him. Making every allowance for talent and most consummate daring, there is, after all, a good deal in luck or destiny. He might have been stopped by our frigates, or wrecked in the Gulf of Lyons, which is particularly tempestuousor a thousand things. But he is certainly fortune's favourite." -Byron Letters, March, 1815.] Show'ring down a fiery flood, II. The Chief has fallen, but not by you, When the soldier citizen Sway'd not o'er his fellow-men Save in deeds that led them on Where glory smiled on Freedom's son — With that youthful chief competed? Then he fell :- so perish all, And thou, too, of the snow-white plume! 2 1 See Rev. chap. viii. v. 7. &c. "The first angel sounded, and there followed hail and fire mingled with blood," &c. v. 8. "And the second angel sounded, and as it were a great mountain burning with fire was cast into the sea; and the third part of the sea became blood," &c. v. 10. "And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters. v. 11. "And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter." 2.["Poor dear Murat, what an end! His white plume used to be a rallying point in battle, like Henry the Fourth's. He refused a confessor and a bandage; so would neither suffer his soul nor body to be bandaged."- Byron Letters.] 3 Murat's remains are said to have been torn from the grave and burnt. |