That
God
has twin'd around the heart,
Thy malice teaches to defy,
And act on earth a Demon's part.
Oh! then from misanthropic pride
We shrink—but pity too the fate
Of youth and talents misapplied,
Which
,
if admired
1
, we still must hate."
Footnote 1:
We say,
if admired
, as there is a great variety of opinions respecting Lord Byron's Poems. Some certainly extol them much, but most of the best judges place his Lordship rather low in the list of our minor Poets.
return to footnote mark
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.
Suggested by perusing Lord Byron's small Poem, at the end of his "
Corsair
" addressed to a Lady weeping, beginning:
"Weep, Daughter of a Royal Line."
"To
Lord Byron
.
"Were he the man thy verse would paint,
'
A Sire's disgrace, a realm's decay
;'
Art thou the meek, the pious saint,
That
prates
of feeling night and day?
Stern
as the Pirate's
1
heart is thine,
Without one ray to cheer its gloom;
And shall that Daughter once repine,
Because thy rude, unhallow'd line,
Would on her virtuous cause presume?
Hide,
Byron
! in the shades of night—
Hide in thy own congenial cell
The mind that would a fiend affright,
And shock the dunnest realms of hell!
No; she will never weep the tears
Which thou would'st Virtue's deign to call;
Nor will they, in remoter years,
Molest her Father's heart at all.
Dark-vision'd man! thy moody vein
Tends only to thy mental pain,
And cloud the talents Heav'n had meant
To prove the source of true content;
Much better were it for thy soul,
Both here and in the realms of bliss,
To check the glooms that now controul
Those talents, which might still repay
The wrongs of many a luckless day,
In
such
a
cheerless
2
clime as this.
But never strive to lure the heart
From
one
to which 'tis ever nearest,
Lest from its duty it depart,
And shun the Pow'r which should be dearest:
For heav'n may sting thy heart in turn,
And rob thee of thy sweetest treasure
But,
Byron
! thou hast yet to learn,
That Virtue is the source of pleasure!
"
Tyrtæus
G—n-street, Feb. 9, 1814.
Footnote 1:
The Corsair
.
return to footnote mark
Footnote 2:
In allusion to the general melancholy character of his Lordship's poetical doctrines.
return
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.
Occasioned by reading his Poem, at the end of
The Corsair
, beginning:
"Weep, Daughter of a Royal Line."
Shame on the verse that dares intrude
On Virtue's uncorrupted way-
That smiles upon Ingratitude,
And charms us only to betray!
For this does
Byron's
muse employ
The calm unbroken hours of night?
And wou'd she basely thus destroy
The source of all that's just-upright?
Traitor to every moral law!
Think what thy own cold heart wou'd feel,
If some insidious mind should draw
Thy
daughter
1
from her filial zeal.
"And dost thou bid the offspring shun
Its father's fond, incessant care?
Why, every sister, sire, and son,
Must loathe thee as the poison'd air!
Byron
! thy dark, unhallow'd mind,
Stor'd as it is with Atheist writ,
Will surely, never, never find,
One convert to admire its wit!
Thou art a planet boding woe,
Attractive for thy novel mien—
A calm, but yet a deadly foe,
Most baneful when thou'rt most serene!
Tho' fortune on thy course may shine,
Strive not to lead the mind astray,
Nor let one impious verse of thine,
The unsuspecting heart betray!
But rather let thy talents aim
To lead incautious youth aright;
Thus shall thy works acquire that fame,
Which ought to be thy chief delight.
"The verse, however smooth it flow,
Must be abhorr'd, abjur'd, despis'd,
When Virtue feels a secret blow,
And order finds her course surpris'd."
Horatio
Fitzroy-square, Feb. 13.
Footnote 1:
Supposing
Lord Byron
to have a daughter.
return to footnote mark
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"Bard of the pallid front, and curling hair,
To London taste, and northern critics dear,
Friend of the dog, companion of the bear,
Apollo
drest in trimmest Turkish gear.
"'Tis thine to eulogize the fell Corsair,
Scorning all laws that God or man can frame;
And yet so form'd to please the gentle fair,
That reading misses wish their Loves the same.
"Thou prov'st that laws are made to aid the strong,
That murderers and thieves alone are brave,
That all religion is an idle song,
Which troubles life, and leaves us at the grave.
"That men and dogs have equal claims on Heav'n,
Though dogs but bark, and men more wisely prate,
That to thyself one friend alone was giv'n,
That Friend a Dog, now snatch'd away by Fate.
"And last can tell how daughters best may shew
Their love and duty to their fathers dear,
By reckoning up what stream of filial woe
Will give to every crime a cleansing tear.
"Long may'st thou please this wonder-seeking age,
By
Murray
purchas'd, and by
Moore
admir'd;
May fashion never quit thy classic page,
Nor e'er be with thy Turkomania tir'd."
Unus Multorum
.
Detailed Contents of AppendicesContents
"Lord
Byron
! Lord
Byron
!
Your heart's made of iron,
As hard and unfeeling as cold.
Half human, half bird,
From
Virgil
we've heard,
Were form'd the fam'd harpies of old.
"Like those monsters you chatter,
Friends and foes you bespatter,
And dirty, like them, what you eat:
The
Hollands
, your muse
Does most grossly abuse,
Tho' you feed on their wine and their meat.
"Your friend, little
Moore
,
You have dirtied before,
But you know that in safety you write:
You've declared in your lines,
That revenge he declines,
For the poor little man will not fight.
"At
Carlisle
you sneer,
That worthy old Peer,
Though united by every tie;
But you act as you preach,
And do what you teach,
And your
God
and your duty defy.
"As long as your aim
Was alone to defame,
The nearest relation you own;
At your malice he smil'd,
But he won't see defil'd,
By your harpy bespatt'rings, the Throne."
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"Procul este profani—!"
"A friendship subsisted, no friendship was closer,
'Twixt the heir of a Peer and the son of a Grocer;
'Tis
true
, though so wide was their difference of station,
For, we
always
find
truth
in a
long dedication
.
Atheistical doctrines in verse we are told,
The former sold
wholesale
, was daring and bold;
While the latter (whatever
he
offer'd for sale)
Like papa, he disposed of—of course by
retail!
First—
scraps
of
indecency
, next
disaffection
,
Disguised by the knave from his fear of detection;
To court
party favour
, then, sonnets he wrote;
Set political squibs to the harpsichord's note.
One, as
patron
was chosen by his brother Poet,
The Peer, to be sure, from his rank we may know it;
Not the low and indecent composer of jigs—
Yes! yes! 'twas the son of the seller of Figs!!
Did the Peer then possess
no respectable friend
To add weight to his name, and his works recommend?!
Atheistical writings we well may believe,
None of
worth
from the Author would deign to receive;
So—to cover the faults of his friend he essays,
By
daubing
him
thickly all over with praise
.
But,
parents
, attend! if your
daughters
you
love
,
The works of
these serpents
take
care
to remove:
Their
infernal attacks
from your
mansions
repel,
Where