Thomas Moore:
‘Avenging and bright’;
1 Avenging and bright fall the swift sword of Erin 1
2 On him who the brave sons of Usna betray'd!--3 For ev'ry fond eye he hath waken'd a tear in,
4 A drop from his heart-wounds shall weep o'er her blade.
5 By the red cloud that hung over Conor's dark dwelling 2 ,
6 When Ulad's 3 three champions lay sleeping in gore--7 By the billows of war, which so often, high swelling,
8 Have wafted these heroes to victory's shore--9 We swear to revenge them!---no joy shall be tasted,
10 The harp shall be silent, the maiden unwed,
11 Our halls shall be mute and our fields shall lie wasted,
12 Till vengeance is wreak'd on the murderer's head.
13 Yes, monarch! tho' sweet are our home recollections,
14 Though sweet are the tears that from tenderness fall;
15 Though sweet are our friendships, our hopes, our affections,
16 Revenge on a tyrant is sweetest of all!
‘Dear harp of my country’;
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Dear Harp of my Country
! in darkness I found thee,
The cold chain of silence had hung o'er thee long 1 ,
When proudly, my own Island Harp, I unbound thee,
And gave all thy chords to light, freedom, and song!
The warm lay of love and the light note of gladness
Have waken'd thy fondest, thy liveliest thrill;
But, so oft hast thou echo'd the deep sigh of sadness,
That ev'n in thy mirth it will steal from thee still.
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Dear Harp of my country! farewell to thy numbers,
This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall twine!
Go, sleep with the sunshine of Fame on thy slumbers,
Till touch'd by some hand less unworthy than mine;
If the pulse of the patriot, soldier, or lover,
Have throbb'd at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone;
I was but as the wind, passing heedlessly over,
And all the wild sweetness I wak'd was thy own.
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‘Erin, oh erin’.
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Like the bright lamp, that shone in Kildare's holy fane 1 ,
And burn'd thro' long ages of darkness and storm,
Is the heart that sorrows have frown'd on in vain,
Whose spirit outlives them, unfading and warm.
Erin, oh Erin, thus bright thro' the tears
Of a long night of bondage, thy spirit appears.
7 The nations have fallen, and thou still art young,
8 Thy sun is but rising, when others are set;
9 And tho' slavery's cloud o'er thy morning hath hung
10 The full noon of freedom shall beam round thee yet.
11 Erin, oh Erin, tho' long in the shade,
12 Thy star will shine out when the proudest shall fade.
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Unchill'd by the rain, and unwak'd by the wind,
The lily lies sleeping thro' winter's cold hour,
Till Spring's light touch her fetters unbind,
And daylight and liberty bless the young flower. 2
Thus Erin, oh Erin, thy winter is past,
And the hope that liv'd thro' it shall blossom at last.
OH! BREATHE NOT HIS NAME.
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Oh! breathe not his name, let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid:
Sad, silent, and dark, be the tears that we shed,
As the night-dew that falls on the grass o'er his head.
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But the night-dew that falls, though in silence it weeps,
Shall brighten with verdure the grave where he sleeps;
And the tear that we shed, though in secret it rolls,
Shall long keep his memory green in our souls.
2
LET ERIN REMEMBER THE DAYS OF OLD
1 Let Erin remember the days of old,
2 Ere her faithless sons betray'd her;
3 When Malachi wore the collar of gold 1 ,
4 Which he won from her proud invader,
5 When her kings, with standard of green unfurl'd,
6 Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger 2 ;--7 Ere the emerald gem of the western world
8 Was set in the crown of a stranger.
9 On Lough Neagh's bank as the fisherman strays,
10 When the clear cold eve's declining,
11 He sees the round towers of other days
12 In the wave beneath him shining;
13 Thus shall memory often, in dreams sublime,
14 Catch a glimpse of the days that are over;
15 Thus, sighing, look through the waves of time
16 For the long-faded glories they cove
Lord Byron:
'To Thomas Moore. written the evening before his visit to Mr. Leigh Hunt in
horsemonger lane gaol, May 19, 1813’;
1 Oh you, who in all names can tickle the town,
2 Anacreon, Tom Little, Tom Moore, or Tom Brown,--3 For hang me if I know of which you may most brag,
4 Your Quarto two-pounds, or your Two-penny Post Bag;
5 [.....]
6 But now to my letter---to yours 't is an answer--7 To-morrow be with me, as soon as you can, sir,
8 All ready and dressed for proceeding to spunge on
9 (According to compact) the wit in the dungeon--10 Pray Phoebus at length our political malice
11 May not get us lodgings within the same palace!
12 I suppose that to-night you're engaged with some codgers,
13 And for Sotheby's Blues have deserted Sam Rogers;
14 And I, though with cold I have nearly my death got,
15 Must put on my breeches, and wait on the Heathcote;
16 But to-morrow, at four, we will both play the Scurra ,
17 And you'll be Catullus, the Regent Mamurra.
‘Fragment of an epistle to Thomas Moore’;
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" What say I ?"---not a syllable further in prose;
I'm your man "of all measures," dear Tom,---so here goes!
Here goes, for a swim on the stream of old Time,
On those buoyant supporters, the bladders of rhyme.
If our weight breaks them down, and we sink in the flood,
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6 We are smothered, at least, in respectable mud,
7 Where the divers of Bathos lie drowned in a heap,
8 And Southey's last Pæan has pillowed his sleep;
9 That Felo de se who, half drunk with his Malmsey,
10 Walked out of his depth and was lost in a calm sea,
11 Singing "Glory to God" in a spick and span stanza,
12 The like (since Tom Sternhold was choked) never man saw.
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The papers have told you, no doubt, of the fusses,
The fêtes, and the gapings to get at these Russes,--Of his Majesty's suite, up from coachman to Hetman,--And what dignity decks the flat face of the great man.
I saw him, last week, at two balls and a party,--For a Prince, his demeanour was rather too hearty.
You know, we are used to quite different graces, [.....]
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The Czar's look, I own, was much brighter and brisker,
But then he is sadly deficient in whisker;
And wore but a starless blue coat, and in kerseymere breeches whisked round, in a waltz with the Jersey,
Who, lovely as ever, seemed just as delighted
With Majesty's presence as those she invited. [.....] [.....]
June, 1814.
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.
I
1 She walks in Beauty, like the night
2 Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
3 And all that's best of dark and bright
4 Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
5 Thus mellowed to that tender light
6 Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
II
7 One shade the more, one ray the less,
8 Had half impaired the nameless grace
9 Which waves in every raven tress,
10 Or softly lightens o'er her face;
11 Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
12 How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
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III
13 And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
14 So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
15 The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
16 But tell of days in goodness spent,
17 A mind at peace with all below,
18 A heart whose love is innocent!
June 12, 1814.
‘So we’ll go no more a roving’
1 So we'll go no more a-roving
2 So late into the night,
3 Though the heart be still as loving,
4 And the moon be still as bright.
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5 For the sword outwears its sheath,
6 And the soul wears out the breast,
7 And the heart must pause to breathe,
8 And Love itself have rest.
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9 Though the night was made for loving,
10 And the day returns too soon,
11 Yet we'll go no more a-roving
12 By the light of the moon.
Feb. 28, 1817.
5
Don Juan: Dedication
Difficile est proprie communia dicere
HOR. Epist. ad Pison
I
1Bob Southey! You're a poet--Poet-laureate,
2 And representative of all the race;
3Although 'tis true that you turn'd out a Tory at
4 Last--yours has lately been a common case;
5And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at?
6 With all the Lakers, in and out of place?
7A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye
8Like "four and twenty Blackbirds in a pye;
II
9"Which pye being open'd they began to sing"
10 (This old song and new simile holds good),
11"A dainty dish to set before the King,"
12 Or Regent, who admires such kind of food;
13And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing,
14 But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood,
15Explaining Metaphysics to the nation-16I wish he would explain his Explanation.
III
17You, Bob! are rather insolent, you know,
18 At being disappointed in your wish
19To supersede all warblers here below,
20 And be the only Blackbird in the dish;
21And then you overstrain yourself, or so,
22 And tumble downward like the flying fish
23Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob,
24And fall, for lack of moisture quite a-dry, Bob!
IV
25And Wordsworth, in a rather long "Excursion"
26 (I think the quarto holds five hundred pages),
27Has given a sample from the vasty version
28 Of his new system to perplex the sages;
29'Tis poetry--at least by his assertion,
30 And may appear so when the dog-star rages-31And he who understands it would be able
32To add a story to the Tower of Babel.
V
33You--Gentlemen! by dint of long seclusion
34 From better company, have kept your own
35At Keswick, and, through still continu'd fusion
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36 Of one another's minds, at last have grown
37To deem as a most logical conclusion,
38 That Poesy has wreaths for you alone:
39There is a narrowness in such a notion,
40Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for Ocean.
VI
41I would not imitate the petty thought,
42 Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice,
43For all the glory your conversion brought,
44 Since gold alone should not have been its price.
45You have your salary; was't for that you wrought?
46 And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise.
47You're shabby fellows--true--but poets still,
48And duly seated on the Immortal Hill.
VII
VIII
IX
X
49Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows-50 Perhaps some virtuous blushes--let them go-51To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs-52 And for the fame you would engross below,
53The field is universal, and allows
54 Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow:
55Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore and Crabbe, will try
56'Gainst you the question with posterity.
57For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses,
58 Contend not with you on the winged steed,
59I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses,
60 The fame you envy, and the skill you need;
61And, recollect, a poet nothing loses
62 In giving to his brethren their full meed
63Of merit, and complaint of present days
64Is not the certain path to future praise.
65He that reserves his laurels for posterity
66 (Who does not often claim the bright reversion)
67Has generally no great crop to spare it, he
68 Being only injur'd by his own assertion;
69And although here and there some glorious rarity
70 Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion,
71The major part of such appellants go
72To--God knows where--for no one else can know.
73If, fallen in evil days on evil tongues,
74 Milton appeal'd to the Avenger, Time,
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75If Time, the Avenger, execrates his wrongs,
76 And makes the word "Miltonic" mean "sublime,"
77He deign'd not to belie his soul in songs,
78 Nor turn his very talent to a crime;
79He did not loathe the Sire to laud the Son,
80But clos'd the tyrant-hater he begun.
XI
XII
81Think'st thou, could he--the blind Old Man--arise
82 Like Samuel from the grave, to freeze once more
83The blood of monarchs with his prophecies
84 Or be alive again--again all hoar
85With time and trials, and those helpless eyes,
86 And heartless daughters--worn--and pale--and poor;
87Would he adore a sultan? he obey
88The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh?
89Cold-blooded, smooth-fac'd, placid miscreant!
90 Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erin's gore,
91And thus for wider carnage taught to pant,
92 Transferr'd to gorge upon a sister shore,
93The vulgarest tool that Tyranny could want,
94 With just enough of talent, and no more,
95To lengthen fetters by another fix'd,
96And offer poison long already mix'd.
XIII
97An orator of such set trash of phrase
98 Ineffably--legitimately vile,
99That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise,
100 Nor foes--all nations--condescend to smile,
101Not even a sprightly blunder's spark can blaze
102 From that Ixion grindstone's ceaseless toil,
103That turns and turns to give the world a notion
104Of endless torments and perpetual motion.
XIV
105A bungler even in its disgusting trade,
106 And botching, patching, leaving still behind
107Something of which its masters are afraid,
108 States to be curb'd, and thoughts to be confin'd,
109Conspiracy or Congress to be made-110 Cobbling at manacles for all mankind-111A tinkering slave-maker, who mends old chains,
112With God and Man's abhorrence for its gains.
XV
113If we may judge of matter by the mind,
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114 Emasculated to the marrow It
115Hath but two objects, how to serve, and bind,
116 Deeming the chain it wears even men may fit,
117Eutropius of its many masters, blind
118 To worth as freedom, wisdom as to Wit,
119Fearless--because no feeling dwells in ice,
120Its very courage stagnates to a vice.
XVI
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121Where shall I turn me not to view its bonds,
122 For I will never feel them?--Italy!
123Thy late reviving Roman soul desponds
124 Beneath the lie this State-thing breath'd o'er thee-125Thy clanking chain, and Erin's yet green wounds,
126 Have voices--tongues to cry aloud for me.
127Europe has slaves--allies--kings--armies still,
128And Southey lives to sing them very ill.
129Meantime--Sir Laureate--I proceed to dedicate,
130 In honest simple verse, this song to you,
131And, if in flattering strains I do not predicate,
132 'Tis that I still retain my "buff and blue";
133My politics as yet are all to educate:
134 Apostasy's so fashionable, too,
135To keep one creed's a task grown quite Herculean;
136Is it not so, my Tory, ultra-Julian?
Notes
1] Byron began the poem in July 1818, and the first two cantos were published in July 1819. It
continued to appear in instalments of two or three cantos until March 1824, the month before his death.
The Dedication, although written in 1818, was withheld and did not appear until 1833. The fragment of
Canto the Seventeenth was first printed by E. H. Coleridge in 1903. Byron's letters are full of the most
varied comments on Don Juan: in his first reference it is "meant to be a little quietly fa&cetious on
everything"; in another it is "the sublime of that there sort of writing .... It may be profligate but is it
not life, is it not the thing?" To his publisher he calls it "a Satire on abuses of the present states of
Society" and improvises a prospectus for its future development: "to how many cantos this may extend,
I know not, nor whether (even if I live) I shall complete it; but this was my notion: I meant to have
made him a Cavalier Servente in Italy, and a cause for divorce in England, and a Sentimental 'Wertherfaced man' in Germany, so as to show the different ridicules of the society in each of those countries,
and to have displayed him gradually gàté, and blasé as he grew older, as was natural. But I had not
quite fixed whether to make him end in Hell, or in an unhappy marriage, not knowing which would be
the severest. The Spanish tradition says Hell: but it is probably only an Allegory of the other state."
#Difficile est propere communia dicere. This motto (from Horace's Epist. ad Pisones, II, iii, 128) is
attached to the first edition both of Cantos I and II, and of III, IV, and V. Byron's footnote to his Hints
from Horace, 183, discusses differences of opinion as to its meaning, and he himself made two rather
different couplets out of it: "'Tis hard to venture where our betters fail/Or lend fresh interest to a twicetold tale" and "Whate'er the critic says or poet sings,/'Tis no slight task to write on common things."
Poet-laureate. In 1813 Southey was appointed Poet Laureate to succeed Pye.
5] Epic Renegade. Byron often satirized both Southey's epic pretensions (see English Bards and Scotch
Reviewers, 189-234) and his conservative reaction from the radical views of his youth. He also
believed that Southey had spread personal scandal about him.
6] Lakers. Southey, Wordsworth, and (occasionally) Coleridge lived in the Lake District, and
Wordsworth often used it as a setting for his poetry. Hence the loose designation "Lake Poets," which
the Edinburgh Review helped to popularize.
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12] Regent. George III's madness made necessary the Regency Act of February 1811, by which the
Prince of Wales became Regent.
13] taken wing: probably refers to the publication of the Biographia Literaria in 1817, which
confirmed Coleridge's reputation for obscurity.
24] quite a-dry, Bob: refers not merely to the dullness of Southey's work, but also to its sterility, a "dry
bob" being current slang for coition without emission.
25] Excursion: the longest and most pretentious of Wordsworth's published poems (1814).
46] Wordsworth has his place in the Excise. The Tory Earl of Lonsdale used his influence to get
Wordsworth the sinecure of Distributor of Stamps for the county of Westmoreland. The following year
Wordsworth dedicated The Excursion to him.
55] Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore and Crabbe. Samuel Rogers (1763-1855), author of The Pleasures
of Memory, and Thomas Campbell (1777-1844), author of The Pleasures of Hope and numerous
patriotic songs and exotic narratives, no longer retain even the minor poetic reputation of the other
three.
70] Titan: name for the sun-god in Roman mythology.
73] Byron refers to Paradise Lost, VII, 25-26 and probably also to the following appeal for "fit
audience though few."
79] Sire ... Son: Charles I and II.
82] Like Samuel: see 1 Samuel 28: 13-14.
88] Castlereagh. Robert Stewart, Viscount Castlereagh (1769-1822) had a brilliant political career in a
series of Tory governments, beginning with Pitt's and ending with Liverpool's. At one time secretary to
the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, he occupied the War Office and later the Foreign Office (1812-22).
Although Byron respected his courage, he detested his repressive and reactionary policies, particularly
as architect of the post-Napoleonic peace, which re-established Austria in northern Italy.
90] Erin: Ireland.
97] orator. Castlereagh had a reputation for maladroit English. "How odd that you should all be
governed by a man who can neither think nor speak English" (Byron to Hobhouse).
102] Ixion: figure in Greek myth, bound in hell to a wheel, whose perpetual turning Byron compares to
Castlereagh's interminable speeches.
117] Eutropius. A eunuch who was minister of the Roman Emperor Arcadius (378-408). See also
"intellectual eunuch" (xi) and "emasculated" (xv).
132] "buff and blue." "Mr. Fox and the Whig Club of his time adopted an uniform of blue and buff"
(Moore's note).
136] Julian: Julian the Apostate, Roman emperor (361-363), who reverted from Christianity to the
worship of the pagan gods.
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