Weep on; and as thy sorrows flow,

I'll taste the luxury of woe.

Juvenile Poems. Anacreontique.

Then fill the bowl-away with gloom!

Our joys shall always last;

For hope shall brighten days to come,

And memory gild the past.

I awoke one morning and found myself famous. Introduction to First and Second Cantos.

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where seraphs might despair.

His house, his home, his heritage, his lands,

The laughing dames in whom he did delight,
Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands,
Might shake the saintship of an anchorite,

And long had fed his youthful appetite;
His goblets brimm'd with every costly wine,
And all that mote to luxury invite,

Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine,

And traverse Paynim shores, and pass earth's central

line.

Stanza II.

Adieu, adieu! my native shore

Fades o'er the waters blue;

The night winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild seamew.

Yon sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight!

Farewell awhile to him and thee,

My native land-good night!

Canto I.

Stanza 13.

On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,
And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay.

Stanza 14.

Not here War's clarion, but Love's rebeck sounds;

Here Folly still his votaries enthralls ;

And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds; Girt with the silent crimes of capitals,

Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring

walls.

Stanza 46.

No more beneath soft Eve's consenting star
Fandango twirls his jocund castanet;

Ah! monarchs, could ye taste the mirth ye mar,
Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret t;

The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and man be

happy yet!

Stanza 47.

Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused,
Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,
And, all unsex'd, the anlace hath espoused,
Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war?
And she, whom once the semblance of a scar
Appall'd, an owlet's 'larum chill'd with dread,
Now views the column-scattering bay'net jar,
The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead,
Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake
Stanza 54.

to tread.*

Canto 1.

From morn till night, from night till startled morn,†
Peeps blushing on the revels laughing crew,
The song is heard, the rosy garland worn.

Stanza 67.

Fond of a land which gave them nought but life,
Pride points the path that leads to liberty;

Back to the struggle baffled in the strife,
War, war is still the cry, war even to the knife!

Stanza 86.

* This and the two following stanzas in the poem are the well-known lines recounting the heroic achievements of the Maid of Saragoza, at the siege of that city.

t "From morn

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve."

Lines 741, 742.

Milton's Paradise Lost. Book 1. "War even to the knife was the reply of Palafox, the governor of Saragoza, on being summoned to surrender by the French when they besieged that city in 1808.

Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend,
Death hath but little left him to destroy!

Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?

But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,

And roam along, the world's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless.
Minions of splendour shrinking from distress!
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
If we were not, would seem to smile the less,
Of all that flatter'd, follow'd, sought, and sued;
This is to be alone; this, this is solitude!

Stanza 26.

Pass we the joys and sorrows sailors find,
Coop'd in their winged sea-girt citadel,
The foul, the fair, the contrary, the kind,
As breezes rise and fall, and billows swell,
Till on some jocund morn-lo, land! and all is well.

Stanza 28.

Brisk confidence still best with woman copes;

Pique her and soothe in turn, soon passion crowns thy

hopes.

Stanza 34.

Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!

Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!

Stanza 73.