or two-but indistinctly-what is next?
What's to be done? let's bear him to the castle.

MANFRED motions with his hand not to remove him.
Manuel. He disapproves—and 't were of no avail-
He changes rapidly.
Her.

"T will soon be over. Manuel, Oh! what a death is this! that I should live To shake my gray hairs over the last chief of the house of Sigismund-And sich a death! Alone-we know not how-unshrived-untendedWith strange accoin paniments and fearful signs, I shudder at the sight, but must not leave him. Manfred. (speaking faintly and slowly.) Old man!

'Tis not so ditficult to die.

[MANFRED, having said this, expires. Her. His eyes are fix'd and lifeless.—He is gune. Manuel. Close them.-My old hand quivers.—He de

partsWhither? I dread to think-But he is gone!

FRAGMENT.

1.
Hills of Annesley, bleak and barren,

Where my thoughtless childhood stray'd,
How the northern tempests warring,
Howl above thy tufted shade!

2.
Now no more, the hours beguiling,

Former favourite haunts I see; Now no more my Mary smiling Makes ye seem a heaven to me.

1805

&

TO MY DEAR MARY ANNE.

THE FOLLOWING LINES ARE THE EARLIEST WRITTEN BY

LORD BYRON. THEY WERE ADDRESSED TO MISS CHA. WORTH, AFTERWARDS MRS. MUSTERS, IN 1804, ABOUT A TEAR BEFORE HER MARRIAGE.]

ADIEU to sweet Mary for ever!

From her I must quickly depart:
Though the fates us from each other şever,

Still her image will dwell in my heart.
The flame that within my heart burns

If unlike what in lovers' hearts glows;
The love which for Mary I feel

Is far purer than Cupid bestows.
I wish not your peace to disturb,

I wish not your joys 10 molest;
Mistake not my passion for love,

'T is your friendship alone I request.
Not ten thousand lovers could feel

The friendship my bosom contains;
It will ever within my heart dwell,

While the warm blood flows through my veins.
May the Ruler of Heaven look down,

And my Mary from evil defend !
May she ne'er know adversity's frown,

May her happiness ne'er have an end !
Once more, my sweet Mary, adieu!

Farewell! I with anguish repeat,
For ever I'll think upon you,

While this heart in my bosom shall beat.

THE PRAYER OF NATURE. Father of Light! great God of Heaven!

Hear'st thou the accents of despair ? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven ?

Can vice atone for crimes by prayer ? Father of Light, on thee I call !

Thou see'st my soul is dark within; Thou who can'st mark the sparrow's fall,

Avert from me the death of sin. No shrine I seek to sects unknown;

Ob point to me the path of truth! Thy dread omnipotence I own;

Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth.
Let bigots rear a gloomy fane,

Let superstition hail the pile,
Let priests, to spread their sable reign,

With tales of mystic rites beguile.
Shall man confine his Maker's sway

To Gothic domes of mouldering stone? Thy, temple is the face of day;

Earth, ocean, heaven thy boundless throne Shall man condemn his race to hell

Unless they bend in pompous form Tell us that all, for one who fell,

Must perish in the mingling storm? Shall each pretend to reach the skies,

Yet doom his brother to expire,
Whose soul a different hope supplies,

Or doctrines less severe inspire ?
Shall these, by creeds they can't expound,

Prepare a fancied bliss or woe?
Shall reptiles, grovelling on the ground,

Their great Creator's purpose know?
Shall those, who live for self alone,

Whose years float on in daily crimeShall they by Faith for guilt atone,

And live beyond the bounds of Time? Father! no prophet's laws I seek,

Thy laws in Nature's works appear ;I own myself corrupt and weak,

Yet will I pray, for thou wilt hear! Thou, who canst guide the wandering star

Through trackless realms of ether's space Who calm'st the elemental war,

Whose band from pole to pole I trace: Thou, who in wisdoin placed me here,

Who, when thou wilt, can take me bence Ah! whilst I tread this earthly sphere,

Extend to me thy wide defence. To Thee, my God, to Thee I call!

Whatever weal or woe betide,
By thy command I rise or fall,

In thy protection 1 confide.
If, when this dust to dust restored

My soul shall float on airy wing,

1804.

How shall thy glorious name adored

Inspire her feeble voice to sing! But, if this fleeting spirit share

With clay the grave's eternal bed, While life yet throbs I raise my prayer,

Though doom'd no more to quit the dead. To Thee I breathe my humble strain,

Grateful for all thy mercies past, And hope, my God, to thee again This erring life may fly at last.

29th Dec. 1806.

ON REVISITING HARROW.

[Some years ago, when at Harrow, a friend of the author engraved on a particular spot the names of both, with a few additional words, as a memorial. Afterwards, on receiving some real or imagined injury, the author destroyed the frail record before he left Harrow. On revisiting the place in 1807, he wrote under it the following stanzas.)

1. HERE once engaged the stranger's view

Young Friendship's record, simply traced ; Few were her words,—but yet, though few, Resentment's hand the line defaced.

2.
Deeply she cut-but, not erased,

The characters were still so plain,
That Friendship once return'd and gazed,-
Till Memory hail'd the words again.

3. Repentance placed them as before;

Forgiveness join'd her gentle name;
So fair the inscription seem'd once more,
That Friendship thought it still the same.

4.
Thus might the Record now have been ;

But, ah, in spite of Hope's endeavour,
Or Friendship's tears, Pride rush'd between,

And blotted out the line for ever !

Round this unconcious schoolboys stray
Till the dull knell of childish play

From yonder studious mansion rings;
But here whene'er my footsteps move,
My silent tears too plainly prove
* Friendship is Love without his wings !"

4.
Oh Love! before thy glowing shrine

My early vows were paid;
My hopes, my dreams, my heart was thine,

But these are now decay'd;
For thine are pinions like the wind,
No trace of thee remains behind,

Except, alas! thy jealous stings.
Away, away! delusive power,
Thou shall not haunt my coming hour;
“Unless, indeed, without thy wings!"

5.
Seat of my youth! thy distant spire

Recalls each scene of joy;
My bosom glows with former fire, -

In mind again a boy.
Thy grove of elis, thy verdant hill,
Thy every path delights me still,

Each flower a double fragrance flings;
Again, as once, in converse gay,
Each dear associate seems to say
“ Friendship is love without his wings !"

6.
My Lycus! wherefore dost thou weep ?

Thy falling tears restrain; Affection for a time may sleep,

But, oh, 't will wake again. Think, think, my friend, when next we meel, Our long.wish'd interview, how sweet!

From this my hope of rapture springs; While youthful hearts thus fondly swell, Absence, my friend, can only tell, Friendship is Love without his wingsi"

7.
In one, and one alone deceived,

Did I my error mourn ?
No--from oppressive bonds relieved,

I left the wretch to scorn.
I turn'd to those my childhood knew,
With feelings warm, with bosoms true,

Twined with my heart's according strings,
And till those vital chords shall break,
For none but these my breast shall wake,
“Friendship, the power deprived of wings!

8.
Ye few! my soul, my life is yours,

My memory and my hope;
Your worth a lasting love insures,

Unfetter'd in its scope;
From smooth deceit and terror sprung,
With aspect fair and honey'd tongue,

Let Adulation wait on kings.
With joy elate, by snares beset,
We, we, my friends, can ne'er forget
"Friendship is Love without his wings."

9. Fictions and dreams inspire the bard

Who rolls the epic song;
Friendship and Truth be my reward,

To me no bays belong;
If laurell'd Fame but dwells with lies,
Me the enchantress ever flies,

'AMITIE EST L'AMOUR SANS AILES.

1.
Why should my anxious breast repine,

Because my youth is fled ?
Days of delight may still be mine;

Affection is not dead.
In tracing back the years of youth,
One firm record, one lasting truth

Celestial consolation brings :
Bear it, ye breezes, to the seat,
Where first my heart responsive beat, -
“ Friendship is Love without his wings !"

2. Through few, but deeply chequerid years,

What moments have been mine! Now, half obscured by clouds of tears,

Now, bright in rays divine ; Howe'er my future doom be cast, My soul, enraptured with the past,

To one idea fondly clings; Friendship! that thought is all thine own, Worth worlds of bliss, that thought alone, “ Friendship is Love without his wings!"

3. Where yonder yew-trees lightly wave

Their branches on the gale, Onheeded heaves a single grave,

Which tells the common tale;

Whose heart and not whose fancy sings:
Simple and young, I dare not feign,
Mine be the rude yet heartfelt strain,
“Friendship is Love without his wings!"

December, 1806.

There must thou soon direct thy flight,

If errors are forgiven.
To bigots and to sects unknown,
Bow down beneath th’ Almighty's Throne,-

To him address thy trembling prayer:
He, who is merciful and just,
Will not reject a child of dust,

Although his meanest care.
Father of Light! to thee I call,

My soul is dark within;
Thou, who canst mark the sparrow fall,

Avert the death of sin.
Thou, who canst guide the wandering star,
Who cali'st the elemental war,

Whose mantle is yon boundless sky,
My thoughts, my words, my crimes forgive;
And, since I soon must cease to live,
Instruct me how to die.

1807

TO MRS. ***

ON BEING ASKED MY REASON FOR QUITTING ENGLAND

IN THE SPRING.

TO MY SON.

1.
Crosr flaxen locks, those eyes of blue,
Bright as thy mother's in their hue;
Those, rosy lips, whose dimples play
And smile to steal the heart away,
Recall a scene of former joy,
And touch thy Father's heart, my Boy!

2.
And thou canst lisp a father's name-
Ah, William were thine own the same,
No self-reproach—but, let me cease-
My care for thee shall purchase peace;
Thy mother's shade shall smile in joy,
And pardon all the past, my Boy.

3.
Her lowly grave the turf has prest,
And thou hast known a stranger's breast.
Derision sneers upon thy birth,
And yields thee scarce a name on earth;
Yet shall not these one hope destroy,
A Father's licart is thine my Boy!

4.
Why, let the world unfeeling frown,
Must I fond Nature's claim disown?
Ah, no-though moralists reprove,
I hail thee, dearest child of love,
Fair cherub, pledge of youth and joy-
A Father guards thy birth, my Boy!

5.
Oh, 'I will be sweet in thee to trace
Ere age has wrinkled o'er my face,
Ere half my glass of life is run,
At once a brother and a son;
And all my wane of years employ
In justice done to thee, my Boy!

6.
Although so young thy heedless sire,
Youth will not damp parental fire;
And, wert thou still less dear to me,
While Helen's form revives in thee,
The breast, which heat to former joy,
Will ne'er desert its pledge, my Boy!

1807.

When man, expellid from Eden's bowers,

A moment linger'd near the gate,
Each scene recall'd the vanish'd hours,

And bade him curse his future fate.
But wandering on through distant climes,

He learnt to bear his load of grief;
Just gave a sigh to other times,

And found in busier scenes relief Thus, Mary, will it be with me,

And I must view thy charms no more; For, while I linger near to thee,

I sigh for all I knew before.
In flight I shall be surely wise,

Escaping from temptation's snare;
I cannot view my paradise
Without the wish of dwelling there.

Dec. 2, 180R

EPITAPH ON JOHN ADAMS, OF SOUTHWELL,

A CARRIER, WHO DIED OP DRUNKENXESS. Joan Adams lies here, of the parish of Southwell, A Carrier, who carried his can to his mouth well; He carried so much, and he carried so fast, He could carry no more-so was carried at last; For, the liquor he drank, being too much for one, He could not carry off, --so he's now carri-on.

Sept. 1807.

A LOVE-SONG.

TO ******..
Remind me not, remind me not,
of those beloved, those vanish'd hourg

When all my soul was given to thee
Hours that may never be forgot,
Till time unnerves our vital powers,

And thou and I shall cease to be.
Can I forget-canst thou forget,
When playing with thy golden hair,

How quick thy fluttering heart did move!
Oh, by my soul, I see thee yet,
With eyes so languid, breast so fair,

And lips, though silent, breathing love.
When thus reclining on my breast,
Those eyes threw back a glance so sweel.

As half reproach'd yet raised desire,
And still we near and nearer prest,
And still our glowing lips would meet

As if in kisses to expire.
And then those pensive eyes would close
And bid their lids each other seek,

Veiling the azure orby below:

FRAGMENT. {The following lines form the conclusion of a poem written by Lord By. ron under the melancholy impression that he should soon die.)

FORGET this world, my restless sprite,

Turn turn thy thoughts to heaven:

While their long lashes' darkening gloss
Seem'd stealing o'er thy brilliant cheek,

Like raven's plumage smooth'd on snow.
I dreamt last night our love return'd,
And, sooth to say, that very dream

Was sweeter in its phantasy Than if for other hearts I burn'd, For eyes that ne'er like thine could beam

In rapture's wild reality.
Then tell me not, remind me not,
or hours which, though for ever gone,

Can still a pleasing dream restore,
Till thou and I shall be forgot,
And senseless as the mouldering stone

Which tells that we shall be no more.

Sweet lady ! once my heart was warm

With every feeling soft as thine; But beauty's self hath ceased to charm

A wretch created to repine.
Yet wilt thou weep when I am low?

Sweet lady! speak those words again; Yet if they grieve thee, say not so

I would not give that bosom pain.

SONG.

STANZAS

TO *******
There was a time, I need not name,

Since it will ne'er forgotten be,
When all our feelings were the same

As still my soul hath been to thee. And from that hour when first thy tongue

Confess'd a love which equallid mine, Though many a grief my heart hath wrung,

Unknown and thus unfelt by thine, None, none hath sunk so deep as this,

To think how all that love hath flown; Transient as every faithless kiss,

But transient in thy breast alone. And yet my heart some solace knew,

When late I heard thy ips declare, In accents once imagined true,

Remembrance of the days that were. Yes! my adored, yet most unkind!

Though thou wilt never love again, To me 't is doubly sweet to find

Remembrance of that love remain. Yes! 't is a glorious thought to me,

Nor longer shall my soul repine, Whate'er thou art or e'er shalt be,

Thou hast been dearly, solely mine!

Fill the goblet again, for I never before
Felt the glow which now gladdens my heart to its

core; Let us drink!- who would not ?-since, through lifes

varied round, In the goblet alone no deception is found. I have tried in its turn all that life can supply: I have bask'd in the beam of a dark-rolling eye; I have loved !-who has not ?- but what heart can de

clare That pleasure existed while passion was there? In the days of my youth, when the heart's in its

spring, And dreams that affection can never take wing, I had friends!-who has not ?- but what tongue will

avow? That friends, rosy winel are so faithful as thou? The heart of a mistress some boy may estrange, Friendship shifts with the sunbeam-thou never canst

change: Thou grow'st old-who does not ?-but on earth what

appears, Whose virtues, like thine, still increase with its yeans? Yet if blest to the utmost that love can bestow, Should a rival bow down to our idol below, We are jealous!—who's not ?—thou hast no such al

loy; For the more that enjoy thee, the more we enjoy. Then the season of youth and its vanities past, For refuge we fly to the goblet at last; There we find-do we not?-in the flow of the soul, That truth, as of yore, is confined to the bowl. When the box of Pandora was opend on earth, And Misery's triumph commenced over Mirth, Hope was left, was she not ?---but the goblet we kisi, And care not for hope, who are certain of bliss. Long life to the grape! for when summer is flown, The age of our nectar shall gladden our own: We must die—who shall not ?-May our sins be for

given, And Hebe shall never be idie in heaven.

TO
AND wilt thou weep when I am low?

Sweet lady! speak those words again :
Yet if they grieve thee, say not so-

I would not give that bosom pain. My deart is sad, my hopes are gone,

My blood runs coldly through my breast; And when I perish, thou alone

Wilt sigh above my place of rest. And yetmethinks, a gleam of peace

Doth through my cloud of anguish shine; And for awhile my sorrows cease,

To know thy heart hath felt for mine. Oh !ady! blessed be that tear

It fa!ls for one who cannot weep: Suco precious drops are doubly dear

To those whose eyes no tear can steep.

STANZAS TO ***, ON LEAVING ENGLAND. 'Tis done-and shivering in the gale The bark unfurls her snowy sail; And whistling o'er the bending mast, Loud sings on high the fresh’ning blast; And I must from this land be gone, Because I cannot love but one. But could I be what I bave been, And could I see what I have seen