No damsel faints when rather closely press'd,
But more caressing seems when most caress'd;
Superfluous hartshorn, and reviving salts,
Both banish'd by the sovereign cordial "Waltz."

Seductive Waltz!-though on thy native shore Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore; Werter to decent vice though much inclined, Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blindThough gentle Genlis, in her strife with Stael, Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball; The fashion hails-from countesses to queens, And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes; Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads, And turns- if nothing else—at least our heads; With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce, And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce. Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts, And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of "Waltz!"

Blest was the time Waltz chose for her début;
The court, the Regent, like herself were new ; 1
New face for friends, for foes some new rewards;
New ornaments for black and royal guards;
New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread;
New coins (most new) 2 to follow those that fled ;
New victories-nor can we prize them less,
Though Jenky wonders at his own success;
New wars, because the old succeed so well,
That most survivors envy those who fell;
New mistresses—no, old—and yet 'tis true,
Though they be old, the thing is something new;
Each new, quite new — -(except some ancient tricks), 3
New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new
sticks!

With vests or ribands-deck'd alike in hue,
New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue;
So saith the muse: my—— 4, what say you?
Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain
Her new preferments in this novel reign;
Such was the time, nor ever yet was such;
Hoops are no more, and petticoats not much;
Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays,
And tell-tale powder-all have had their days.
The ball begins-the honours of the house
First duly done by daughter or by spouse,

1 An anachronism-Waltz and the battle of Austerlitz are before said to have opened the ball together: the bard means (if he means any thing), Waltz was not so much in vogue till the Regent attained the acmé of his popularity. Waltz, the comet, whiskers, and the new government, illuminated heaven and earth, in all their glory, much about the same time; of these the comet only has disappeared; the other three continue to astonish us still.-Printer's Devil.

2 Amongst others a new ninepence-a creditable coin now forthcoming, worth a pound, in paper, at the fairest calculation.

3 "Oh that right should thus overcome might!" Who does not remember the "delicate investigation" in the "Merry Wives of Windsor ?"

"Ford. Pray you, come near: if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me: then let me be your jest; I deserve it. How now? whither bear you this?

"Mrs. Ford. What have you to do whither they bear it? -you were best meddle with buck-washing."

4 The gentle, or ferocious, reader may fill up the blank as he pleases-there are several dissyllabic names at his service (being already in the Regent's): it would not be fair to back any peculiar initial against the alphabet, as every month will add to the list now entered for the sweepstakes: a distinguished consonant is said to be the favourite, much against the wishes of the knowing ones.

5 "We have changed all that," says the Mock Doctor

Some potentate-or royal or serene

5

With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Gloster's mien,
Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush
Might once have been mistaken for a blush.
From where the garb just leaves the bosom free,
That spot where hearts were once supposed to be;
Round all the confines of the yielded waist,
The strangest hand may wander undisplaced;
The lady's in return may grasp as much
As princely paunches offer to her touch.

Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip,
One hand reposing on the royal hip;
The other to the shoulder no less royal
Ascending with affection truly loyal!
Thus front to front the partners move or stand,
The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand;
And all in turn may follow in their rank,
The Earl of Asterisk—and Lady - Blank;
Sir-Such-a-one-with those of fashion's host,
For whose blest surnames- -vide "Morning Post"
(Or if for that impartial print too late,
Search Doctors' Commons six months from my date)-
Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow,
The genial contact gently undergo;

Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk,
If "nothing follows all this palming work?"6
True, honest Mirza!—you may trust my rhyme-
Something does follow at a fitter time;
The breast thus publicly resign'd to man,
In private may resist him—if it can.

O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore, Fitzpatrick, Sheridan 7, and many more!

And thou, my Prince! whose sovereign taste and will

It is to love the lovely beldames still!
Thou ghost of Queensbury! whose judging sprite
Satan may spare to peep a single night,
Pronounce if ever in your days of bliss
Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this?
To teach the young ideas how to rise,
Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes;
Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame,
With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame:
For prurient nature still will storm the breast
Who, tempted thus, can answer for the rest?

't is all gone-Asmodeus knows where. After all, it is of no great importance how women's hearts are disposed of; they have nature's privilege to distribute them as absurdly as possible. But there are also some men with hearts so thoroughly bad, as to remind us of those phenomena often mentioned in natural history; viz. a mass of solid stone-only to be opened by force-and when divided, you discover a toad in the centre, lively, and with the reputation of being veno

mous.

6 In Turkey a pertinent, here an impertinent and superfluous, question-literally put, as in the text, by a Persian to Morier, on seeing a waltz in Pera-Vide Morier's Travels.

7 [I once heard Sheridan repeat, in a ball-room, some verses, which he had lately written on waltzing; and of which I remember the following

"With tranquil step, and timid, downcast glance,
Behold the well-pair'd couple now advance.

In such sweet posture our first parents moved,
While, hand in hand, through Eden's bowers they roved,
Ere yet the Devil, with promise fine and false,
Turn'd their poor heads, and taught them how to waltz.
One hand grasps hers, the other holds her hip:

For so the law's laid down by Baron Trip." This gentleman, whose name suits so aptly as a legal authority on the subject of waltzing, was, at the time these verses were written, well known in the dancing circles. MOORE.]

[The reader has seen that Lord Byron, when publishing "The Corsair," in January 1814, announced an apparently quite serious resolution to withdraw, for some years at least, from poetry. His letters of the February and March following abound in repetitions of the same determination. On the morning of the ninth of April, he writes,-"No more rhyme for or rather from-me. I have taken my leave of that stage, and henceforth will mountebank it no longer." In the evening, a Gazette Extraordinary announced the abdication of Fontainebleau, and the Poet violated his vows next morning, by composing this Ode, which he immediately published, though without his name. His Diary says, " April 10. Today I have boxed one hour-written an ode to Napoleon Buonaparte- copied it eaten six biscuits - drunk four bottles of soda water, and redde away the rest of my time."] 2 [" Produce the urn that Hannibal contains,

And weigh the mighty dust which yet remains :
AND IS THIS ALL!"

I know not that this was ever done in the old world; at least, with regard to Hannibal: but, in the statistical account of Scotland, I find that Sir John Paterson had the curiosity to collect, and weigh, the ashes of a person discovered a few years since in the parish of Eccles; which he was happily enabled to do with great facility, as "the inside of the coffin

Nor till thy fall could mortals guess Ambition's less than littleness!

Thanks for that lesson - it will teach
To after-warriors more,
Than high Philosophy can preach,

And vainly preach'd before.
That spell upon the minds of men
Breaks never to unite again,

That led them to adore

Those Pagod things of sabre sway, With fronts of brass, and feet of clay.

The triumph, and the vanity,

The rapture of the strife 5The earthquake voice of Victory, To thee the breath of life;

was smooth, and the whole body visible." Wonderful to relate, he found the whole did not exceed in weight one ounce and a half! AND IS THIS ALL! Alas! the quot libres itself is a satirical exaggeration.- GIFFORD.]

3 ["I send you an additional motto from Gibbon, which you will find singularly appropriate."-Lord Byron to Mr. Murray, April 12. 1814.]

4 ["I don't know-but I think I, even I (an insect compared with this creature), have set my life on casts not a millionth part of this man's. But, after all, a crown may not be worth dying for. Yet, to outlive Lodi for this!!! Oh that Juvenal or Johnson could rise from the dead! Expendequot libras in duce summo inventes? I knew they were light in the balance of mortality; but I thought their living dust weighed more carats. Alas! this imperial diamond hath a flaw in it, and is now hardly fit to stick in a glazier's pencil. -the pen of the historian won't rate it worth a ducat. Paha! 'something too much of this.' But I won't give him up even now; though all his admirers have, like the Thanes, fallen from him."-Byron Diary, April 9.]

3 "Certaminis gaudia"-the expression of Attila in his harangue to his army, previous to the battle of Chalons, given in Cassiodorus.

["Out of town six days. On my return, find my poor little pagod, Napoleon, pushed off his pedestal. It is his own fault. Like Milo, he would rend the oak; but it closed again, wedged his hands, and now the beasts-lion, bear, down to the dirtiest jackall-may all tear him. That Muscovite winter wedged his arms:-ever since, he has fought with his feet and teeth. The last may still leave their marks; and I guess now' (as the Yankees say), that he will yet play them a pass."- Byron Diary, April 8.]

2 Sylla. [We find the germ of this stanza in the Diary of the evening before it was written:-" Methinks Sylla did better; for he revenged, and resigned in the height of his sway, red with the slaughter of his foes-the finest instance of glorious contempt of the rascals upon record. Dioclesian did well too-- Amurath not amiss, had he become aught except a dervise-Charles the Fifth but so so: but Napoleon worst of all."- Byron Diary, April 9.]

["Alter potent spell' to 'quickening spell:' the first (as Polonius says) is a vile phrase,' and means nothing, besides being common-place and Rosa-Matildaish. After the resolu tion of not publishing, though our Ode is a thing of little length and less consequence, it will be better altogether that it is anonymous."- Lord Byron to Mr. Murray, April 11.]

4 [Charles the Fifth, Emperor of Germany, and King of Spain, resigned, in 1355, his imperial crown to his brother

Too late thou leav'st the high command

To which thy weakness clung;

All Evil Spirit as thou art,

It is enough to grieve the heart

To see thine own unstrung;

To think that God's fair world hath been The footstool of a thing so mean;

And Earth hath spilt her blood for him,
Who thus can hoard his own!

And Monarchs bow'd the trembling limb,
And thank'd him for a throne !
Fair Freedom! we may hold thee dear,
When thus thy mightiest foes their fear
In humblest guise have shown.
Oh! ne'er may tyrant leave behind
A brighter name to lure mankind!

Thine evil deeds are writ in gore,
Nor written thus in vain-
Thy triumphs tell of fame no more,
Or deepen every stain:

If thou hadst died as honour dies,
Some new Napoleon might arise,
To shame the world again—
But who would soar the solar height,
To set in such a starless night ? 6

Weigh'd in the balance, hero dust
Is vile as vulgar clay;
Thy scales, Mortality! are just
To all that pass away:
But yet methought the living great
Some higher sparks should animate,

To dazzle and dismay :

Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth Of these, the Conquerors of the earth.

And she, proud Austria's mournful flower,

Thy still imperial bride;

How bears her breast the torturing hour?

Still clings she to thy side?

Must she too bend, must she too share

Thy late repentance, long despair,

Thou throneless Homicide?

If still she loves thee, hoard that gem;
'Tis worth thy vanish'd diadem !7

Ferdinand, and the kingdom of Spain to his son Philip, and retired to a monastery in Estremadura, where he conformed, in his manner of living, to all the rigour of monastic austerity. Not satisfied with this, he dressed himself in his shroud, was laid in his coffin with much solemnity, joined in the prayers which were offered up for the rest of his soul, and mingled his tears with those which his attendants shed, as if they had been celebrating a real funeral.]

5 I looked into Lord Kaimes's Sketches of the History of Man,' and mentioned to Dr. Johnson his censure of Charles the Fifth for celebrating his funeral obsequies in his life-time, which, I told him, I had been used to think a solemn and affecting act. JOHNSON. Why, Sir, a man may dispose his mind to think so of that act of Charles; but it is so liable to ridicule, that if one man out of ten thousand laughs at it, he 'll make the other nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine laugh too."- Boswell's Johnson, vol. vii. p. 78. ed. 1835.]

6 ["But who would rise in brightest day
To set without one parting ray?"-MS.]

7 [It is well known that Count Neipperg, a gentleman in the suite of the Emperor of Austria, who was first presented to Maria Louisa within a few days after Napoleon's abdication, became, in the sequel, her chamberlain, and then her husband. He is said to have been a man of remarkably plain appearance. The Count died in 1831.]

Then haste thee to thy sullen Isle,
And gaze upon the sea;
That element may meet thy smile-
It ne'er was ruled by thee!
Or trace with thine all idle hand,
In loitering mood upon the sand,
That Earth is now as free!

That Corinth's pedagogue hath now
Transferr'd his by-word to thy brow.

Thou Timour! in his captive's cage 2
What thoughts will there be thine,
While brooding in thy prison'd rage?
But one" The world was mine!"
Unless, like he of Babylon,

All sense is with thy sceptre gone,
Life will not long confine

That spirit pour'd so widely forth—
So long obey'd-so little worth!

Or, like the thief of fire from heaven, 3
Wilt thou withstand the shock?
And share with him, the unforgiven,
His vulture and his rock!
Foredoom'd by God-by man accurst, 4
And that last act, though not thy worst,
The very Fiend's arch mock; 5
He in his fall preserved his pride,
And, if a mortal, had as proudly died!

[Dionysius the Younger, esteemed a greater tyrant than his father, on being for the second time banished from Syracuse, retired to Corinth, where he was obliged to turn schoolmaster for a subsistence.]

2 The cage of Bajazet, by order of Tamerlane.

3 Prometheus.

[In first draught

"He suffered for kind acts to men,

Who have not seen his like again,

At least of kingly stock;

Since he was good, and thou but great,
Thou canst not quarrel with thy fate."]

"The very fiend's arch mock

To lip a wanton, and suppose her chaste."
SHAKSPEARE.

[We believe there is no doubt of the truth of the anecdote here alluded to-of Napoleon's having found leisure for an unworthy amour, the very evening of his arrival at Fontainebleau.]

6 [The three last stanzas, which Lord Byron had been solicited by Mr. Murray to write, in order to avoid the stamp duty then imposed upon publications not exceeding a sheet, were not published with the rest of the poem. "I don't like them at all," says Lord Byron," and they had better be left out. The fact is, I can't do any thing I am asked to do, however gladly I would; and at the end of a week my interest in a composition goes off."]

7 [In one of Lord Byron's MS. Diaries, begun at Ravenna in May, 1821, we find the following:-"What shall I write? -another Journal? I think not. Any thing that comes uppermost, and call it

There was a day-there was an hour, 6 While earth was Gaul's-Gaul thineWhen that immeasurable power

Unsated to resign

Had been an act of purer fame,
Than gathers round Marengo's name,
And gilded thy decline,

Through the long twilight of all time,
Despite some passing clouds of crime.

But thou forsooth must be a king,
And don the purple vest,-
As if that foolish robe could wring
Remembrance from thy breast.
Where is that faded garment? where
The gewgaws thou wert fond to wear,

The star-the string-the crest? Vain froward child of empire! say, Are all thy playthings snatch'd away?

Where may the wearied eye repose,
When gazing on the Great; 7
Where neither guilty glory glows,
Nor despicable state?

Yes-one-the first-the last-the best-
The Cincinnatus of the West,

Whom envy dared not hate, Bequeath the name of Washington,

To make man blush there was but One!8

and thus despising them all. As to the retention of his power by Augustus, the thing was already settled. If he had given it up the commonwealth was gone-the republic was long past all resuscitation. Had Brutus and Cassius gained the battle of Philippi, it would not have restored the republic. Its days ended with the Gracchi; the rest was a mere struggle of parties. You might as well cure a consumption, or restore a broken egg, as revive a state so long a prey to every uppermost soldier, as Rome had long been. As for a despotism, if Augustus could have been sure that all his successors would have been like himself- (I mean not as Octavius, but Aagustus) or Napoleon could have insured the world that mome of his successors would have been like himself-the ancient or modern world might have gone on, like the empire of China, in a state of lethargic prosperity. Suppose, for instance, that, instead of Tiberius and Caligula, Augustus had been immediately succeeded by Nerva, Trajan, the Antoninės, or even by Titus and his father-what a difference in our estimate of himself! So far froru gaining by the contrast, I think that one half of our dislike arises from his having been heired by Tiberius- and one half of Julius Cæsar's fame, from his having had his empire consolidated by Augustus. Suppose that there had been no Octavius, and Tiberias had 'jumped the life' between, and at once succeeded Julius ?— And yet it is difficult to say whether hereditary right or popular choice produce the worser sovereigns. The Ran Consuls make a goodly show; but then they only reigned for a year, and were under a sort of personal obligation to dis tinguish themselves. It is still more difficult to say whab form of government is the worst-all are so bad. As for de mocracy, it is the worst of the whole; for what is, in tache democracy?an aristocracy of blackguards."]

8 [On being reminded by a friend of his recent promise not to write any more for years-"There was," replied Lord Byron, "a mental reservation in my pact with the pubere, in behalf of anonymes; and, even had there not, the provocati n was such as to make it physically impossible to pass over Us epoch of triumphant tameness. 'Tis a sad business; and after all, I shall think higher of rhyme and reason, and very humbly of your heroic people, till Elba becomes a voicema and sends him out again. I can't think it is all over yet."')

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies 2, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan.

January, 1815.

SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. 3

SHE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace,
Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express,

How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL
SWEPT. 4

THE harp the monarch minstrel swept,
The King of men, the loved of Heaven,

[Lord Byron never alludes to his share in these Melodies with complacency. Mr. Moore having, on one occasion, ralHed him a little on the manner in which some of them had been set to music,-"Sunburn Nathan," he exclaims, "why do you always twit me with his Ebrew nasalities? Have 1 not told you it was all Kinnaird's doing, and my own exquisite facility of temper?"]

2 ["Neither the ancient Jews," says Dr. Burney, "nor the modern, have ever had characters peculiar to music; so that the melodies used in their religious ceremonies have, at all times, been traditional, and at the mercy of the singers."— Kalkbrenner tells us, that "les Juifs Espagnols lisent et chantent leurs pseaumes bien differemment que les Juifs Hollandais, les Juifs Romains autrement que les Juifs de la Prusse et de la Hesse; et tous croient chanter comme on chantait dans le Temple de Jérusalem!"-Hist. de la Musique, tom. i. p. 34.]

[These stanzas were written by Lord Byron, on returnIng from a ball-room, where he had seen Mrs. (now Lady) Wilmot Horton, the wife of his relation, the present Governor of Ceylon. On this occasion Mrs. Wilmot Horton had appeared in mourning, with numerous spangles on her dress.]

[" In the reign of King David, music was held in the bighest estimation by the Hebrews. The genius of that prince for music, and his attachment to the study and practice of it, as well as the great number of musicians appointed by him for the performance of religious rites and ceremonies, could not fail to extend its influence and augment its perfections; for it was during this period, that music was first honoured by being

Which Music hallow'd while she wept

O'er tones her heart of hearts had given, Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven! It soften'd men of iron mould,

It gave them virtues not their own; No ear so dull, no soul so cold,

That felt not, fired not to the tone,

Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne!

It told the triumphs of our King,
It wafted glory to our God;

It made our gladden'd valleys ring,

The cedars bow, the mountains nod;

Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode ! 5 Since then, though heard on earth no more, Devotion and her daughter Love,

Still bid the bursting spirit soar

To sounds that seem as from above,

In dreams that day's broad light can not remove. 6

admitted in the ministry of sacrifice, and worship of the ark; as well as by being cultivated by a king." - BURNEY.]

5 ["When Lord Byron put the manuscript into my hand, it terminated with this line. As this, however, did not complete the verse, I wished him to help out the melody. He replied, Why, I have sent you to heaven-it would be difficult to go further! My attention for a few minutes was called to some other person, and his Lordship, whom I had hardly missed, exclaimed, Here, Nathan, I have brought you de again; and immediately presented me the beautiful lines clude the melody."- NATHAN.]

poet

of all

6 [The hymns of David excel no less in sublimity P derness of expression, than in loftiness and purity of sentiment. In comparison with them, the sacred other nations sinks into mediocrity. They have embodied so exquisitely the universal language of religious emotion, that (a few fierce and vindictive passages excepted, natural in the warrior-poet of a sterner age,) they have entered, with unquestionable propriety, into the Christian ritual. The songs which cheered the solitude of the desert caves of Engedi, or resounded from the voice of the Hebrew people as they wound along the glens or the hill-sides of Judea, have been repeated for ages in almost every part of the habitable world, in the remotest islands of the ocean, amongst the forests of America, or the sands of Africa. How many human hearts have they softened, purified, exalted!-of how many wretched beings have they been the secret consolation!-on how many communities have they drawn down the blessings of Divine Providence, by bringing the affections in unison with their deep devotional fervour!- MILMAN.]