[4to. 'P. on V. Occasions'.]]
[Footnote v: 'Bids ye adieu!' [4to]]
[Footnote vi: 'Though a tear dims.' [4to]]
[Footnote vii: ''Tis nature, not fear, which commands his regret'.
[4to]]
[Footnote viii: 'In the grave he alone can his fathers forget'. [4to]]
[Footnote ix: 'Your fame, and your memory, still will he cherish'.
[4to]]
TO E---[1]
Let Folly smile, to view the names Of thee and me, in Friendship twin'd; Yet Virtue will have greater claims To love, than rank with vice combin'd.
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 intercourse is not less sweet, Since worth of rank supplies the place.
_November_, 1802.
[Footnote 1: E---was, according to Moore, a boy of Byron's own age, the son of one of the tenants at Newstead.]
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY, [1]
COUSIN TO THE AUTHOR, AND VERY DEAR TO HIM.
1.
Hush'd are the winds, and still the evening gloom, Not e'en a zephyr wanders through the grove, Whilst I return to view my Margaret's tomb, And scatter flowers on the dust I love.
2.
Within this narrow cell reclines her clay, That clay, where once such animation beam'd; The King of Terrors seiz'd her as his prey; Not worth, nor beauty, have her life redeem'd.
3.
Oh! could that King of Terrors pity feel, Or Heaven reverse the dread decree of fate, Not here the mourner would his grief reveal, Not here the Muse her virtues would relate.
4.
But wherefore weep? Her matchless spirit soars Beyond where splendid shines the orb of day; And weeping angels lead her to those bowers, Where endless pleasures virtuous deeds repay.
5.
And shall presumptuous mortals Heaven arraign!
And, madly, Godlike Providence accuse!
Ah! no, far fly from me attempts so vain;-- I'll ne'er submission to my God refuse.
6.
Yet is remembrance of those virtues dear, Yet fresh the memory of that beauteous face; Still they call forth my warm affection's tear, Still in my heart retain their wonted place. [i]
1802.
[Footnote 1: The author claims the indulgence of the reader more for this piece than, perhaps, any other in the collection; but as it was written at an earlier period than the rest (being composed at the age of fourteen), and his first essay, he preferred submitting it to the indulgence of his friends in its present state, to making either addition or alteration.--[4to]
"My first dash into poetry was as early as 1800. It was the ebullition of a passion for--my first cousin, Margaret Parker (daughter and granddaughter of the two Admirals Parker), one of the most beautiful of evanescent beings. I have long forgotten the verse; but it would be difficult for me to forget her--her dark eyes--her long eye-lashes--her completely Greek cast of face and figure! I was then about twelve--she rather older, perhaps a year. She died about a year or two afterwards, in consequence of a fall, which injured her spine, and induced consumption ... I knew nothing of her illness, being at Harrow and in the country till she was gone. Some years after, I made an attempt at an elegy--a very dull one."--_Byron Diary_, 1821; _Life_, p. 17.
[Margaret Parker was the sister of Sir Peter Parker, whose death at Baltimore, in 1814, Byron celebrated in the "Elegiac Stanzas," which were first published in the poems attached to the seventh edition of _Childe Harold_.]
[Footnote i: _Such sorrow brings me honour, not disgrace_. [4to]]
TO D---[1]