The Works of Lord Byron, Vol. 7. Poetry

And I, though with cold I have nearly my death got,
Must put on my breeches, and wait on the Heathcote;[29 - [Katherine Sophia Manners was married in 1793 to Sir Gilbert Heathcote. See Letters, 1898, ii. 402, 406.]]
But to-morrow, at four, we will both play the Scurra,
And you'll be Catullus, the Regent Mamurra.[30 - [See Catullus, xxix. 1-4 —"Quis hoc potest videre? quis potest pati,Nisi impudicus et vorax et aleo,Mamurram habere, quod Comata GalliaHabebat uncti et ultima Britannia?" etc.]]

    [First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, i. 401.]

ON LORD THURLOW'S POEMS.[31 - [One evening, in the late spring or early summer of 1813, Byron and Moore supped on bread and cheese with Rogers. Their host had just received from Lord Thurlow [Edward Hovell Thurlow, 1781-1829] a copy of his Poems on Several Occasions (1813), and Byron lighted upon some lines to Rogers, "On the Poem of Mr. Rogers, entitled 'An Epistle to a Friend.'" The first stanza ran thus —"When Rogers o'er this labour bent,Their purest fire the Muses lent,T' illustrate this sweet argument.""Byron," says Moore, "undertook to read it aloud; – but he found it impossible to get beyond the first two words. Our laughter had now increased to such a pitch that nothing could restrain it. Two or three times he began; but no sooner had the words 'When Rogers' passed his lips, than our fit burst forth afresh, – till even Mr. Rogers himself … found it impossible not to join us. A day or two after, Lord Byron sent me the following: – 'My dear Moore, "When Rogers" must not see the enclosed, which I send for your perusal.'" —Life, p. 181; Letters, 1898, ii. 211-213, note 1.]Thurlow's poems are by no means contemptible. A sonnet, "To a Bird, that haunted the Water of Lacken, in the Winter," which Charles Lamb transcribed in one of Coleridge's note-books, should be set over against the absurd lines, "On the Poems of Mr. Rogers.""O melancholy bird, a winter's dayThou standest by the margin of the pool;And, taught by God, dost thy whole being schoolTo Patience, which all evil can allay:God has appointed thee the fish thy prey;And giv'n thyself a lesson to the foolUnthrifty, to submit to moral rule,And his unthinking course by thee to weigh.There need not schools nor the professor's chair,Though these be good, true wisdom to impart;He, who has not enough for these to spareOf time, or gold, may yet amend his heart,And teach his soul by brooks and rivers fair,Nature is always wise in every part."Select Poems, 1821, p. 90.[See "Fragments of Criticism," Works of Charles Lamb, 1903, iii. 284.]]

1

When Thurlow this damned nonsense sent,
(I hope I am not violent)
Nor men nor gods knew what he meant.

2

And since not even our Rogers' praise
To common sense his thoughts could raise —
Why would they let him print his lays?

3

4

5

To me, divine Apollo, grant – O!
Hermilda's[32 - [Hermilda in Palestine was published in 1812, in quarto, and twice reissued in 1813, as part of Poems on Various Occasions (8vo). The Lines upon Rogers' Epistle to a Friend appeared first in the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1813, vol. 83, p. 357, and were reprinted in the second edition of Poems, etc., 1813, pp. 162, 163. The lines in italics, which precede each stanza, are taken from the last stanza of Lord Thurlow's poem.]] first and second canto,
I'm fitting up a new portmanteau;

6

And thus to furnish decent lining,
My own and others' bays I'm twining, —
So, gentle Thurlow, throw me thine in.

    June 2, 1813.
    [First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, i. 396.]

TO LORD THURLOW.[33 - ["On the same day I received from him the following additional scraps ['To Lord Thurlow']. The lines in Italics are from the eulogy that provoked his waggish comments." —Life, p. 181. The last stanza of Thurlow's poem supplied the text —"Then, thus, to form Apollo's crown,(Let ev'ry other bring his own,)I lay my branch of laurel down."]]

1

"I lay my branch of laurel down."
"Thou lay thy branch of laurel down!"
Why, what thou'st stole is not enow;
And, were it lawfully thine own,
Does Rogers want it most, or thou?
Keep to thyself thy withered bough,
Or send it back to Doctor Donne:[34 - [Lord Thurlow affected an archaic style in his Sonnets and other verses. In the Preface to the second edition of Poems, etc., he writes, "I think that our Poetry has been continually declining since the days of Milton and Cowley … and that the golden age of our language is in the reign of Queen Elizabeth."]]
Were justice done to both, I trow,
He'd have but little, and thou – none.

2

"Then, thus, to form Apollo's crown."
A crown! why, twist it how you will,
Thy chaplet must be foolscap still.
When next you visit Delphi's town,
Enquire amongst your fellow-lodgers,
They'll tell you Phoebus gave his crown,
Some years before your birth, to Rogers.

3

"Let every other bring his own."
When coals to Newcastle are carried,
And owls sent to Athens, as wonders,
From his spouse when the Regent's unmarried,
Or Liverpool weeps o'er his blunders;
When Tories and Whigs cease to quarrel,
When Castlereagh's wife has an heir,
Then Rogers shall ask us for laurel,
And thou shalt have plenty to spare.

    [First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, i. 397.]

THE DEVIL'S DRIVE.[35 - The Devil's Drive. A Sequel to Porson's Devil's Walk. – [MS. H.]][36 - ["I have lately written a wild, rambling, unfinished rhapsody, called 'The Devil's Drive,' the notion of which I took from Porson's Devil's Walk." —Journal, December 17, 18, 1813, Letters, 1898, ii. 378. "Though with a good deal of vigour and imagination, it is," says Moore, "for the most part rather clumsily executed, wanting the point and condensation of those clever verses of Coleridge and Southey, which Lord Byron, adopting a notion long prevalent, has attributed to Porson." The Devil's Walk was published in the Morning Post, September 6, 1799. It has been published under Porson's name (1830, ed. H. Montague, illustrated by Cruikshank). (See Poetical Works, 1898, i. 30, note 1.)]]

1

The Devil returned to Hell by two,
And he stayed at home till five;
When he dined on some homicides done in ragoût,
And a rebel or so in an Irish stew,
And sausages made of a self-slain Jew,
And bethought himself what next to do,
"And," quoth he, "I'll take a drive.
I walked in the morning, I'll ride to-night;
In darkness my children take most delight,10
And I'll see how my favourites thrive.

2

"And what shall I ride in?" quoth Lucifer, then —
"If I followed my taste, indeed,
I should mount in a waggon of wounded men,
And smile to see them bleed.
But these will be furnished again and again,