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HOURS OF IDLENESS;

A SERIES OF POEMS, ORIGINAL AND TRANSLATED.

• "Virginibus puerisque Canto."

HORACE, lib. 8, Ode 1.

Μήτ' ἄρ με μαλ αἴνεε, μήτε τι νεικεί.

HOMER, ILIAD, 1. 240.

44 He whistled as he went for want of thought."
DRYDEN.

ΤΟ

THE RIGHT HONORABLE FREDERICK, EARL OF CARLISLE, KNIGHT OF THE GARTER, ETC., ETC.

THE SECOND EDITION OF THESE POEMS IS INSCRIBED,

BY HIS OBLIGED WARD AND AFFECTIONATE KINSMAN,

THE AUTHOR.

LORD BYRON first appeared as an author in is, that the author has not yet completed his nineNovember, 1806, when he printed a collection of teenth year. December 23, 1806." The approba poems for distribution among his friends. The first tion which this volume received from the friends to copy of this volume, which is a thin quarto, was whom it was submitted induced Lord Byron to come presented to Mr. Beecher, who immediately per-more immediately before the public; and in the lat ceived, on looking over its pages, that some of the ter end of May, 1807, this collection, with considera. contents were by no means of a description to reflect ble alterations, the omission of some poems, and the credit on their author; and at his friendly sugges- addition of others, was reprinted and published, untion the whole impression, with the exception of der the title of "Hours of Idleness, a Series of two, or, at the most, three copies, was committed to Poems, original and translated, by George Gordon, the flames. After the destruction of this volume, Lord Byron, a Minor." This volume was also Lord Byron directed the collection to be reprinted, printed at Newark. In the four editions of this with the omission of the objectionable poems. This work, which rapidly succeded each other, many va edition, which was confined to a hundred copies, riations are found: several corrections were made; and, like its predecessor, designed for private circu- several pieces were silently withdrawn, and replace lation, was proceeded in so quickly, that at the end by others; and after the first edition a dedication to of about six weeks, January, 1807, it was ready for Lord Carlisle was prefixed. In the present publicadelivery. The volume was entiled "Poems on Va- tion, all those Poems from the "Private Volume," rious Occasions," and was printed at Newark by S. and the early editions of "Hours of Idleness," and J. Ridge; the author's name was not given. which were suppressed by the author, are reprinted, The dedication was, "To those friends at whose and all the variations of the different impressions request they were printed, for whose amusement or are noticed. approbation they were solely intended, these trifles. are respectfully dedicated by the author." Immediately following the dedication was this notice:"The only apology necessary to be adduced in extenuation of any errors in the following collection

PREFACE.*

IN submitting to the public eye the following col

This was the only motto given in the private volume; it was retained lection, I have not only to combat the difficulties

with the other two in the first edition of Hours of Idleness, and omitted in be second.

• Printed in the first edition of Hours of Idicness; omitted in the second.

that writers of verse generally encounter, but may to others "Virum volitare per ora." 1 look to the Incur the charge of presumption for obtruding myself few who will hear with patience "dulce est desipere on the world, when, without doubt, I might be, at in loco."-To the former worthies I resign, withou my age, more usefully employed. These produc- repining, the hope of immortality, and content my tions are the fruits of the lighter hours of a young self with the not very magnificent prospect of rank man who has lately completed his nineteenth year. ing "among the mob of gentlemen who write ;"— As they bear the internal evidence of a boyish mind, my readers must determine whether I dare say "with this is, perhaps, unnecessary information. Some ease," or the honor of a posthumous page in "The few were written during the disadvantages of illness Catalogue of Royal and Noble Authors," a work to and depression of spirits; under the former influ- which the peerage is under infinite obligations, in ence, "CHILDISH RECOLLECTIONS," in particular, asmuch as many names of considerable length, were composed. This consideration, though it can- sound, and antiquity, are thereby rescued from the not excite the voice of Praise, may at least arrest obscurity which unluckily overshadows several vol the arm of Censure. A considerable portion of these uminous productions of their illustrious bearers. poems has been privately printed, at the request With slight hopes and some fears, I publish this and for the perusal of my friends. I am sensible first and last attempt. To the dictates of young that the partial and frequently injudicious admira- ambition may be ascribed many actions more crimtion of a social circle is not the criterion by which inal and equally absurd. To a few of my own age poetical genius is to be estimated, yet, "to do the contents may afford amusement: I trust they greatly," we must "dare greatly ;" and I have haz- will, at least, be found harmless. It is highly imarded my reputation and feelings in publishing this probable, from my situation and pursuits hereafter. volume. "I have passed the Rubicon," and must that I should ever obtrude myself a second time on stand or fall by the "cast of the die." In the latter the public; nor even in the very doubtful event of event, I shall submit without a murmur; for present indulgence, shall I be tempted to commit though not without solicitude for the fate of these a future trespass of the same nature. The opinion effusions, my expectations are by no means san- of Dr. Johnson on the Poems of a noble relation of guine. It is probable that I may have dared much mine, "That when a man of rank appeared in the and done little; for, in the words of Cowper, "it is character of an author, his merit should be hand one thing to write what may please our friends, who, somely acknowledged," can have little weight with because they are such, are apt to be a little biased verbal, and still less with periodical censors; but m our favor, and another to write what may please were it otherwise, I should be loth to avail myself every body; because they who have no connection, of the privilege, and would rather incur the bitteror even knowledge of the author, will be sure to est censure of anonymous criticism than triumph in find fault if they can." To the truth of this, how- honors granted solely to a title. ever, I do not wholly subscribe: on the contrary, I feel convinced that these trifles will not be treated with injustice. Their merit, if they possess any, will be liberally allowed; their numerous faults, on the other hand, cannot expect that favor which has been denied to others of maturer years, decided character, and far greater ability. I have not aimed WHY DOST THOU BUILD THE HALL, SON OF THE

ON LEAVING NEWSTEAD ABBEY.

WINGED DAYS? THOU LOOKEST FROM THY TOWER
TO-DAY: YET A FEW YEARS AND THE BLAST OF
THE DESERT COMES, IT HOWLS IN THY EMPTY
COURT.-Ossian.t

THROUGH thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow
winds whistle;

at exclusive originality, still less have I studied any particular model for imitation: some translations are given of which many are paraphrastic. In the original pieces there may appear a casual coincidence with authors whose works I have been accustomed to read; but I have not been guilty of intentional plagiarism. To produce any thing entirely new, in an age so fertile in rhyme, would be a HercuThou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay; lean task, as every subject has already been treated In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle to its utmost extent. Poetry, however, is not my Have choked up the rose which late bloomed in primary vocation; to divert the dull moments of the way. indisposition, or the monotony of a vacant hour, urged me "to this sin :" little can be expected from Of the mail-cover'd Barons, who proudly to battle so unpromising a muse. My wreath, scanty as it Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain, must be, is all I shall derive from these productions; The escutcheon and shield, which with every blast and I shall never attempt to replace its fading leaves, or pluck a single additional sprig from groves where I am, at best, an intruder. Though accustomed, in my younger days, to rove a careless moun- No taineer on the Highlands of Scotland, I have not, of late years, had the benefit of such pure air, or so elevated a residence, as might enable me to enter the ist with genuine bards, who have enjoyed both these advantages. But they derive considerable fame, and a few not less profit, from their productions; while I shall expiate my rashness as an interloper, certainly without the latter, and in all proba-applause, to which, by their intrinsic worth, they were well entitled.

bility with a very slight share of the former. I leave

rattle,

Are the only sad vestiges now that remain.

more doth old Robert, with harp-stringing numbers,

Raise a flame in the breast for the war-laurell'd
wreath ;

Near Askalon's towers, John of Horistant slumbers
Unnerved is the hand of his minstrel by death.

• The Earl of Carlisle, whose works have long received the meed of public

The motto was added in the first edition of Hours of Idleness.
Horistan Castle, in Derbyshire, an ancient seat of the Byron family

Paul and Hubert, too, sleep in the valley of Cressy; | Or round the steep brow of the churchyard 1

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That fame, and that memory, still will he cherish;

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He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown; But if, through the course of the years which Like you will he live, or like you will he perish; When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your

own.

1803.

await me,

Some new scene of pleasure should open to view, I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me,

"Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew."

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EPITAPH ON A FRIEND.

Αστηρ τριν μεν έλαμπες ενι ζωοισιν εφος.

Laertius.

JH, Friend! for ever loved, for ever dear, t
What fruitless tears have bathed thy honor'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 lived to bless my aching sight,
Thy comrade's honor, 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.

A FRAGMENT.

1803.

WHEN, to their airy hall, my fathers' voice
Shall call my spirit, joyful in their choice;
When, poised upon the gale, my form shall ride,
Or, dark in mist, descend the mountain's side;
Oh may my shade behold no sculptured urns
To mark the spot where earth to earth returns!
(No lengthened scroll, no praise-encumber'd stone,
My epitaph shall be my name alone:

If that with honor fail to crown my clay,
Oh may no other fame my deeds repay!
That, only that, shall single out the spot;
By that remember'd, or with that forgot.

1803.

• These lines were printed in the private volume, the title being "Epitaph

on a beloved Friend." The motto was added in the first edition of Hours of Idler.cm.

"Oh, Boy! for ever loved, for ever dear."-Private volume,
"Though low thy lot, since in a cottage horn,

No titles did thy humble came adorn;

To me far dearer was thy artless love

Than all the joys wealth, fame, and friends could prove :

For thee alone I lived, or wish'd to live;

Oh God 1 if impious, this rash word forgive!
Heart-broken now, I wait an equal doom,
Content to join thee in thy turf-clad tomb;
Where, this frail form composed in endless rest,
I make my last cold pillow on thy breast;
That breast where oft in life I've laid my head,
Will yet receive me mouldering with the dead;
This lite resign'd without one parting sigh,
Together in one bed of earth we'll lie!
Together share the fate to mortals given,
Together mix our dug, and hope for heaven."

Suct, we tree conclusion in the private volume.

"No lex gthen'd scroll of virtue and renown."

Private volume, and first edition of Hours of Idleness. He that remember'd, or fore'er torgot."-Private volume.

TO EDDLESTON.*

LET Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship twined;
Yet Virtue will have greater claims

To love, than rank with vice combined

And though unequal is thy fate,

Since title deck'd my higher birth. Yet envy not this gaudy state;

Thine is the pride of modest worth.

Our souls at least congenial meet,
Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;
Our intercouse is not less sweet,
Since worth of rank supplies the place,
November, 1802.

REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J. M B. PIGOT, ESQ., ON THE CRUELTY OF HIS MISTRESS.t

WHY, Pigot, complain

Of this damsel's disdain, Why thus in despair do you fret? For months you may try, Yet, believe me, a sigh Will never obtain a coquette.

Would you teach her to love?
For a time seem to reve;

At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile,

She shortly will smile,

And then you may kiss your coquette

For such are the airs
Of these fanciful fairs,

They think all our homage a debt;
Yet a partial neglect

Soon takes an effect,

And humbles the proudest coquette

Dissemble your pain,

And lengthen your chain, And seem her hauteur to regret;

If again you shall sigh,
She no more will deny

That yours is the rosy coquette.

If still, from false pride, Your pangs she deride, This whimsical virgin forget; Some other admire,

Who will melt with your fire, And laugh at the little coquette.

For me, I adore

Some twenty or more,

And love them most dearly; but yet,
Though my heart they enthral,

I'd abandon them all,

Did they act like your blooming coquette.

• Only printed in the private volume. ↑ Printed in the private volume only.

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