ON A CHANGE OF MASTERS AT A GREAT PUBLIC SCHOOL. [1]
Where are those honours, IDA! once your own, When Probus fill'd your magisterial throne?
As ancient Rome, fast falling to disgrace, Hail'd a Barbarian in her Caesar's place, So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate, And seat _Pomposus_ where your _Probus_ sate.
Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul, [i]
Pomposus holds you in his harsh controul; Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd, With florid jargon, and with vain parade; With noisy nonsense, and new-fangled rules, (Such as were ne'er before enforc'd in schools.) [ii]
Mistaking _pedantry_ for _learning's_ laws, He governs, sanction'd but by self-applause; With him the same dire fate, attending Rome, Ill-fated Ida! soon must stamp your doom: Like her o'erthrown, for ever lost to fame, No trace of science left you, but the name,
HARROW, July, 1805.
[Footnote 1: In March, 1805, Dr. Drury, the Probus of the piece, retired from the Head-mastership of Harrow School, and was succeeded by Dr. Butler, the Pomposus. "Dr. Drury," said Byron, in one of his note-books, "was the best, the kindest (and yet strict, too) friend I ever had; and I look upon him still as a father." Out of affection to his late preceptor, Byron advocated the election of Mark Drury to the vacant post, and hence his dislike of the successful candidate. He was reconciled to Dr. Butler before departing for Greece, in 1809, and in his diary he says, "I treated him rebelliously, and have been sorry ever since." (See allusions in and notes to "Childish Recollections," pp.
84-106, and especially note I, p. 88, notes I and 2, p. 89, and note I, p. 91.)] ]
[Footnote i:
----_but of a narrower soul_.--[4to]]
[Footnote ii:
_Such as were ne'er before beheld in schools._--[4to]]
EPITAPH ON A BELOVED FRIEND.[1]
[Greek: Astaer prin men elampes eni tsuoisin hepsos.]
[Plato's Epitaph (Epig. Graec., Jacobs, 1826, p. 309), quoted by Diog. Laertins.]
Oh, Friend! for ever lov'd, for ever dear! [i]
What fruitless tears have bathed thy honour'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 liv'd to bless my aching sight, Thy comrade's honour 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.
HARROW, 1803. [2]
[Footnote i:
_Oh Boy! for ever loved, for ever dear!
What fruitless tears have wash'd thy honour'd bier; What sighs re-echoed to thy parting breath, Whilst thou wert struggling in the pangs of death.
Could tears have turn'd the tyrant in his course, Could sighs have checked his dart's relentless force; [iii]
Could youth and virtue claim a short delay, Or beauty charm the spectre from his prey, Thou still had'st liv'd to bless my aching sight, Thy comrade's honour, and thy friend's delight: Though low thy lot since in a cottage born, No titles did thy humble name adorn, To me, far dearer, was thy artless love, Than all the joys, wealth, fame, and friends could prove.
For thee alone I liv'd, or wish'd to live, (Oh God! 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 compos'd in endless rest, I'll 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 life 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 dust, and hope for Heaven._
HARROW, 1803.--[4to. _P. on V. Occasions._]]
[Footnote 1: The heading which appears in the Quarto and _P. on V.
Occasions_ was subsequently changed to "Epitaph on a Friend." The motto was prefixed in 'Hours of Idleness'. The epigram which Bergk leaves under Plato's name was translated by Shelley ('Poems', 1895, iii.
361)--
"Thou wert the morning star Among the living, Ere thy fair light had fled; Now having died, thou art as Hesperus, giving New splendour to the dead."
There is an echo of the Greek distich in Byron's exquisite line, "The Morning-Star of Memory."
The words, "Southwell, March 17," are added, in a lady's hand, on p. 9 of the annotated copy of P. 'on' V. 'Occasions' in the British Museum.
The conjecture that the "'beloved' friend," who is of humble origin, is identical with "E----" of the verses on p. 4, remains uncertain.]
[Footnote ii: _have bath'd thy honoured bier._
[_P. on V. Occasions._] ]
[Footnote iii: _Could tears retard,_ [_P. on V. Occasions._]
_Could sighs avert._ [_P. on V. Occasions._] ]
ADRIAN'S ADDRESS TO HIS SOUL WHEN DYING.