The Gentleman's Magazine

Donfton returned to the company, and
Mr Chaworth turned to go down
ftairs; but just as Mr Donfton entered
the door, he met Lord Byron coming
out, and they paffed, as there was a
large fcreen that covered the door, A
without knowing each other. Lord
Byren found Mr Chaworth ftill on the
ftairs, and it now remains a doubt
whether Lord Byron call'd upon Mr
Chaworth, or Mr Chaworth upon Lord
Byron; but both went down to the
firft landing place, having dined upon
the fecond floor, and both called the
waiter to fhew an empty room, which
a waiter did, and having firft opened
the door himself, and placed a fmall
tallow candle, which he had in his
hand, on the table, he fetired when
the gentlemen enter'd, and pulled the
door after them.

In a few minutes the affair was decided; the bell was rung, but by whom is uncertain; the waiter went up, and perceiving what had happened, ran down ftairs frighted, told his mafter the catastrophe, who ran inftantly up ftairs, and found the two combatants ftanding clofe together; Mr Chaworth had his fword in his left hand, and Lord Byron his in his right; Lord Byron's left hand was round Mr Cbaworth as Mr Chaworth's right hand was round Lord Byron's neck, and over his fhoulder. He defired Mr Fynmore to take his (word, and Lord Byron delivered up his at the fame time; one, or both, called to him to get fome help immediately, and in a few minutes Mr Hawkins the furgeon was fent for, who came accordingly.

In the mean time Mr Montague, Mr Hewett, Mr Donlon, Mr Willoughby, Mr Molyneux, and Mr Sherwin had entered the room; the account Mr Chaworth then gave, was, "That he could not live many hours; that he forgave Lord Byron, and hoped the world would; that the affair had pafsed in the dark, only a finall tallow candle burning in the room; that Lord Byron asked him, If he meant the converfation on the game to Sir Charles Sedley or to him? To which he replied, If you have any thing to say, we had better fhut the door; that while he was doing this, Lord Byron bid him draw, and, in turning, he faw his lordship's fword half drawn, on which he whipped out his own, and made the first pafs; the fword being through my Lord's waistcoat he thought he had killed him, and afking whether he was not mortally wound

ed, Lord Byron while he was fpeaking fhortened his fword, and stabbed him in the belly."

When Mr Hawkins, the furgeon, came in, he found Mr Chaworth fitting by the fire, with the lower part of his waistcoat open, his fhirt bloody, and his hand upon his belly; he was very earneft to know if he thought him in immedi are danger; and being anfwered in the affirmative, he defired his uncle Leving might be fent for, that he might fettle his private affairs; and, in the mean time, gave Mr Hawkins a particular detail of what had passed. "He faid, "that Lord Byron and he entered the room together, Lord Byron leading the way; that his lordship, in walking forwards, faid fomething relative to the former difpute, on which he propofed fastening the door; that on turning himself round from this act he perceived his lordship with his fword either drawn, or nearly fo; on which he inftantly drew his own, and made a thruft at him, which he thot had wounded or killed him; that then perceiving his lordship shorten D his fword to return the thrust, he thought to have parry'd it with his left hand, at which he looked twice, imagining he had cut it in the attempt; that he felt the fword enter his body, and go deep through his back, that he ftruggled, and being the ftronger man, difarmed his lordfhip, and expreffed a concern as under an apprehenfion of having mortally wounded him; that Lord Byron res plied by faying fomething to the like effect; adding, at the fame time, that he hoped now he would allow him to be as brave a man as any in the kingdom." Mr Hawkins adds, that painFed and diftreffed as Mr Chaworth then was, and under the immediate danger of death, he repeated what he had heard he had declared to his friends before, that he had rather be in his prefent fituation, than live under the misfortune of having killed another person.'

After a little while he feemed to grow stronger, and he was then removed to his own house, where Mr Adair, another furgeon, Mr Man, an apothecary, and Dr Addington his phyfician, came to the affiftance of Mr Hawkins, but no relief could be given him; he continued fenfible, however, till the time of his death, and Mr Lewing being now come, Mr Partington, an attorney, was fent for to make his

will, for which he gave very fenfible

and diktinct instructions: And while Mr Partington was employed in this bufinefs, he gave Mr Levin, at his request, the fame account which he had before given to Mr Hawkins, la menting, at the fame time, his own folly in fighting in the dark, an expreffion that certainly conveyed no imputation on Lord Byron, and implied no more than this, that by fight

and Lord Byron being till engaged, had a right to avail himself of that, mistake for the prefervation of his own life. His lordship himself, no A doubt, may wish that he had, in that fituation, difabled him only; but in the heat of duelling who can always be collected"

ing with a dim light he had given up
the advantage of his own fuperiority
in fwordfmanship, and had been led B
into the mistake, that he was in
the breast of his lordship when he
was only entangled in his waistcoat,
for under that mistake he certainly
was when Lord Byron fhortened his
fword, and ran him through the body;
he added, to Mr Leving, that he died
as a man of honour, and expreffed a C
fatisfaction that he was in his prefent
fituation, rather than in that of hav-
ing the life of any man to answer for.

Mr Partington, when he had finished the bufinefs he was fent for, and the will was properly executed, recollected the probability that he fhould one day be called upon to give teftimony to the dying words of his unhappy client, and accordingly, with the caution that always accompanies a thorough know. ledge of the law, he thought proper to commit to writing the laft words he was heard to say on this occafion. This writing was put into the hands of Mr Levinx, and gave rife to a report that a paper was written by the deceafed, and fealed up, not to be opened till the time that Lord Byron should be tried but no paper whatever was written by Mr Chasworth, and that written by Mr Partington was as follows:

" my

Mr URBAN,

W king emendations, annotations, or illuftrations, of fome part or other of Shakespear, with the principal of which your Magazine is enriched, give me leave to take this opportunity of throwing one mite into the treafury, which I accidentally caft my eye upon the other day. Looking into an 1667, among other memorable things old Almanack, printed in the year there mentioned, I find as followsJulius Cafar Alain with bodkins.It immediately occurred to my thoughts that, by the word bodkin, in the famous fpeech of Hamlet, To be, or not to be- -Who would bear the whips and corns of time, &c. &c.

HILE almost every body is ma

When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare Bodkin

Shakespear did not mean, as I perceive
it is generally understood, a little uten-
fil of ladies for their hair-but a dagger,
which, it feems, was then called a bod-
kin; though I have not yet been able
E
to find it in any Dictionary or Gloffary.
and fhall be obliged to any of your
correfpondents for a more diligent
fearch. It is used in the fame sense
by Sir Philip Sydney, in his ARCADIA,
in the burlesque challenge from one
coward to another-Defying bim in a
mortal affray from the BODKIN to the
pike upward: i. e. through all the
weapons; bat reversed (I fuppofe, to
heighten the burlesque) the combat
ufually beginning with the lance (or
pike) and ending with the dagger;
which (if I mistake not) the Knights
wore upon their armour, faftened
thereunto with a chain; and when
they were disabled from the use of any
other weapons, fpent the poor remains
of their fury with this little inftru-
ment, grafping together. See Sydney's
Arcadia, 5th Edit. Dubl. 1621. Fol.
p. 276.
Yours, &c.

"Sunday morning, the twenty-fe"venth of January, about three of "the clock, Mr Chaworth faid, That Lord's fword was half drawn, " and that he, knowing the man, im"mediately, or as quick as he could, "whipt out his fword and had the G "first thruft; that then my Lord "wounded him, and he disarmed my "Lord, who then faid, By G-d, I "have as much courage as any man " in England."

These are the particulars of this unfortunate affair; by which it should H feem, that neither Mr Chaworth him. felf, nor any of his friends, could blame Lord Byron for the part he had in his death. Mr Chaworth, it is ma nifeft, was under the apprehensions of having mortally wounded Lord Byron

THE FRIAR OF ORDERS GRAY, From the Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, latety published, and promised in our last, p. 183. T was a friar of orders gray,

Walkt forth to tell his beades;
And he met with a lady faire,

Clad in a pilgrime's weeds.

Now Chrift thee fave, thou reverend friar,
I pray thee tell to me,

If ever at yon holy shrine

My true love thou didst fee.

And how should I know your true love,
From many another one?
O by his cockle hat and staff,

And by his fandal fhoone *.
But chiefly by his face and mien,
That were fo fair to view;
His flaxen locks that fweetly curl'd,
And eyne of lovely blue.
O lady, he is dead and gone!

Lady, he's dead and gone!
And at his he d à green grafs turfe,
And at his heels a stone.
Within thefe holy clogfters long
He languifht and he died,
Lamenting of a ladyes love,

And 'playning of her pride.

Here bore him barefac'd on his bier
Six proper youths and tall,
And many a tear bedew'd his grave
Within you kick-yard wall.

And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
And art thou dead and gone!
And didst thou dye for love of me!
Break, cruel heart of ftone!
Oweep not, lady, weep not foe ;

Some ghoftly comfort feek;
Let not vain forrow rive thy heart,
Ne teares bedew thy check.
O do not, do not, holy friar,

My lorrow now reprove;
For I have loft the fweeteft youth
That e'er wan ladyes love.
And nowe, alas! for thy fad loffe,
I'll evermore weep and figh;
For thee I only wifht to live,

For thee I wish to dye.
Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy forrowe is in vaine;

For, violets pluckt, the fweéteft fhowers
Will ne'er make grow againe.

Our joys as winged dreams do flye?
Why then fhould forrow left?
Since grief but aggravates thy loffe,
Grieve not for what is paft.

O fay not foe, thou holy friar;
I pray thee, fay not foe:
For fince my true-love dyed for mee,
'Tis meet my tears should flow.

These are the diftinguishing marks of a pilgrim. The chief places of devotion being beyond Jea, the pilgrims were wont to put cockle-fhe is in their bats to denote the intention or performance of thewr pilgrimage. Warb, Shakelp, Vol. 8, p. 224.

And will he ne'er come again ?

Will he ne'er come again?

Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,
For ever to remain.

His cheek was redder than the rose,

The comlieft youth was he :-
But he is dead and laid in his grave,
Alas, and woe is me!

Sigh no more, lady, figh no more,
Men were deceivers ever!
One foot on fea and one on land,

To one thing constant never.
Hadft thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee fad and heavy;:
For young men ever were fickle found,
Since fummer trees were leafy.

Now fay not fo, thou holy friar,

I pray thee fay not foe:

My love he had the trueft heart.
O he was ever true!

And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,
And didft thou dye for mee?

Then farewell home; for, evermore
A pilgrim I will bee.

Bat firft upon my true-love's grave
My weary limbs I'll lay ;

And thrice I'll kiss the green-grafs turf

That wraps his breathless clay.

Yet ftay, fair lady; reft a while

Beneath this cleyfter wail:

See through the hawthorn blows the cold

wind,

And drizzly rain doth fall.

O ftay me not, thou holy friar;
Oftay me not I pray :
No drizzly rain that falls on me
Can wath my fault away.
Yet ftay, fair lady, turn again,

And dry thofe pearly tears;
For fee, beneath this gown of gray,'
Thy own true love appears.

Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love,
Thefe holy weeds I fought
And here amid thefe lonely walls

To end my days I thought.
But haply, for my year of grace
Is not yet paft away,
Might Iftill hope to win thy love,
No longer would I stay.

Now farewell grief, and welcome joy

Once more unto my heart:

For fince I have found thee, lovely youth; We never more will part.

Poetical ESSAYS; MAY 1765.

Some men with fwords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their ftrong nerves at laft muft yield
They tame but one another fill."
Early or late

And must give ftoop to fate,

up their murmuring breath, When they pale captives creep to death. The garlands, wither on your brow,

Then boaft no more your mighty deeds,
Upon death's purple altar now

See where the victor victim bleeds:
All heads must come

To the cold tomb,

Only the actions of the juft

Smell fweet, and bloffom in the duft.

THE CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE.
From the fame Collection.

TOW happy is he borne or taught,

That ferveth not anothers will;
Whofe armour is his honeft thought,
And fimple truth his higheft skill:
Whofe paffions not his mafters are;
Whofe foul is ftill prepar'd for death;
Not ty'd unto the world with care

Of princes ear, or vulgar breath :
Who hath his life from rumours freed;
Whole confcience is his ftrong retreat;
Whofe ftate can neither flatterers feed,
Nor ruin make accufers great:
Who envies none, whom chance doth raise,
Or vice: Who never understood
How deepeft wounds are given with praife,
Nor rules of ftate, but rules of good:
Who God doth late and early pray
His graces more then gifts to lend;
And entertains the harmless day
With a well-chofen booke or friend.
This man is freed from fervile bands
Of hope to rife, or fear to fall;
Lord of himfelfe, though not of lands;
And having nothing yet hath all.

A RIDDLE. By Miss

AURORA, clad in roly yet,

(Her hair with dewy woodbines dreft)
Blushing to make Apollo wait,
Had now unbarr'd the eastern gate,
And Phabus driv'n his fiery steeds
O'er azure plains and ftarry meads,
When I on moffy bank reclin'd.
Yet not to mofly bank confin'd,
For I in courts and cities rove,
Tho' woods and lawns I chiefly love,
The powder'd beau I often deck,

And fometimes cling round Chloe's neck,
Or tye the waving auburn hair,
Or grace the flipper of the fair,
Around her bed I often hover,
And oft the ufeful toilet cover,
The fplendid barge fometimes adorn,
And on the peacock's tail am borne;
la village church am often found,
The hallow'd walls I mantle round;
Am ever at the poet's call,

And add a charm to gay Vauxball.
On sacient venerable tomb,

And midt brown shade of cloifter'd gloom,

Where mofs and ivy twine around,
With dreary afpect I am found;
But when the cottage maid, fo gay,
To hail the pleafing month of May;
With ruftic dance, and ruftic fong,
In neat array trips light along,
With gayeft looks I then appear,
With her adorn the rifing year;
And, when death fnatches her away,
Will not forfake the lifeless clay;
To fhow how much I am her flave,
I live upon her turfy grave;

And, when each flower is wither'd feen,'
Will ftill be fadelefs, ftill be green.

231

Written on a paper, which contained a piece of
Bride Cake given to the author by a Lady.
By the late Mr COLLINS.

E curious hands, that. hid from vulgar eyes,
By fearch profane fhall find this hallow'd

cake,

With virtue's awe forbear the facred prize,
Nor dare a theft for love and pity's fake!
This precious relick, form'd by magick pow'r,
Beneath her fhepherd's haunted pillow laid,
Was meant by love to charm the filent hour,

The fecret prefent of a matchlefs maid.

The Cypryan queen, at hymen's fond requeft,

Each nice ingredient chofe with happiest art; Fears, fighs, and wishes of th' enamoured breaft, And pains that pleafe, are mixt in every part. With rofy hand the fpicy fruit fhe brought

From Papbian hills, and fair Cythera's ifle; And tempered fweet with these the melting thought,

The kifs ambrofial and the yielding smile. Ambiguous looks, that fcorn and yet relent, Denials mild, and firm unalter'd truth, Reluctant pride, and amorous faint confent, And meeting ardors and exulting youth. Sleep, wayward God! hath fworn while thefe remain,

With flattering dreams to dry his nightly tear, And chearful Hope, fo oft invok'd in vain,

With fairy fongs fhall foothe his penfive car. If bound by vows to friendship's gentle fide, And fond of foul, thou hop'ft an equal grace, If youth or maid thy joys and griefs divide, O much intreated leave this fatal place. Sweet Peace, who long hath fhunn'd my plaintive day,

Confents at length to bring me fhort delight, Thy careiefs fteps may fcare her doves away, And grief with raven note ufurp the night.

On the Death of Dr YOUNG.

Mmortal bard, thy talk at length is o'er And lo! I kail thee on th' immortal fhore; Hail thy releafe, from fick nefs, age, and care, Thofe fatal evils to which flesh is heir! Full ripe for heav'n, thy foul afcending flies, By angels welcom'd, to the eternal skies, Where oft thy mind on contemplation's wing Approach'd the throne of heaven's almighty king: The path to which, while yet on earth, you knew The path of life, and track'd it to our view; Whose muse amids the folemn gloom of night From duft arofe, and wing'd to heav'n her flight

Where,

Where, as the joyn'd the bright angelic choir
Seraphic bards, celeftial truths inpire.

Which thou rehearsing in our wond'ring ears
Sublim'd our virtues, and difpell'd our fears;
Death, the grim tyrant, of his fting disarm'd
Who now no more the fhuddering foul alarm'd.
Tho' doom'd to worms, our kindred and our lot
To lie in cold obftruction and to rot ;"
Manure the earth, on which before we trod
Proudly erect the image ftamp'd of God:
Yet from corruption, we like flowers fhall rife
To fade no more, tranfplanted to the skies:
Such are the hopes thy confolations give,
From thy laff day we endless days fall live.
Hail! who for ever shall enjoy above,
The father's prefence, and the fon's pure love,
Why should we mourn, chy abfene here below,
Remov'd to endless blifs, from scenes of woe,
What tho' a Mitre was on earth deny'd
In heav'n, a crown immortal is supply'd
A wreath unfading too adorns thy herfe,
And thou till time's no more fhalt live in verfe.
Our children's children to the end of days
Shall Young revere, and his exalted lays,
Regret they liv'd not when his trains he fung,
To catch truth living, from his tuneful tongue.
To fee the boft, the greatest of his kind
A mortal form, that angel pow'rs enshrin'd.

EPILOGUE, Spoken at the Theatre Royal in Drury
Lane, April 30, 1765, by Mifs Hopkins, a
Child of fix years old, at the benefit of Mr Hop-
kins, Prompter, and Mrs Hopkins.
(Enter, fpeaking to Mr Hopkins at the fage door)
NPray, let mega-muff,
AY-but I muft-1 muft, indeed, papa!

Coming forwards, curtfies.

Your fervant, gentlemen!-Your fervant ladies! Papa's the Prompter-but to a my trade is : And though my fize is fmall, my years but few, I'll warrant, he shall find I know my Cue.

Females of ev'ry age have leave to tattle:
Why may not I then, like my elders, prattle?
Mamma indeed cries," Hufh, you little elf!
"Prithee, be filent!-I'll talk all myself."
But let her know, my tongue as her's is nimble,

And I had rather ufe it than my thimble ;
Had rather goffip, fpeak a part, or wheedle,
Than darn, or wound my fingers with a needle.
A fempftrefs? No. A Princefs let me be,
In all the pomp and ftate of tragedy!
A Princefs, with a page, and fweeping train,
A bowl, a dagger, and a lover flain!

O, how i'll rant! how loud i'll be! and glibber
Than Yates, or Pritchard, Bellamy, or Cibber?
If for the Bufkin you object my Size,
Why Garrick's little-but has piercing eyes.
And fo have I.-But I'm too young, you'll fay.
Ah, Sirs! I fhall grow older ev'ry day:
And they that now my faint endeavours fpare,
Mifs in ber teens fhall thank them for their care.

To a YOUNG LADY,

MARK me whilft I fing your beauty
Juftly what belongs to you
Swains proclaim it, 'tis your duty
Since the praife I give is true.
Sweetest being that's in nature

All mankind acknowledge thes,
Rich in every grace and feature
And in actions chafte, yet free.
Ce night the gth.

Heaven fuch wonderful perfection
Did to mortals never fend,
In your eyes and fresh complexion,
All that's lovely doth depend.
Nature in thy rare formation

Al lher wond'rous skill hath try'da
Looking on with pale vexation
Envy foon grew fick and dy'd
Sure thou art the Cyprian deity
Such her ftature, fuch her gait,
Looks that ne'er can give fatiety,
You are all that's good and great.

The CASTLE-TOP. Written by a Lad at Winchefter School.

great foretathers did the top produce,
Not for the shape confulting, but the ufe;
Simple and homely, unadorn'd and mean,
Plain was its guife, and all its honours plain.
Long had our youth purfu'd, in every court,
This painful birth and infantry of fport;
With whips high brandish'd lab'ring all the day,
They scourg'd, & flogg'd, and fweated o'er their
play:

Long had they thus indulg'd the sportive fight,
And found the toil o'er-balance the delight.
Diverfion figh'd to fee her arts decay'd,
Till thus Invention lent her fifter aid :
Improv'd, the top a nobler figure crowns,
And all its shape a grace fuperior owns;
No more its antique ftraitness it retains,
No more the formal wooden peek remains.
Broad at one end, and regularly lefs,
Furrows, entwining round the wafte, afford
Beauty and honour every part poffefs.

An open delve to take th' embracing cord,
Below thase circles next a feely prop
Shoots forth a point and thus compleats the top,

This the triumphant youth with joy furveys,
And winds around the diffoluble ftays:
With hand uplifted, eager for the ring,
Collected, darts it off, and jerks it from the string.
Unravel'd, loofe, and unconfin'd it flies,
Hurry'd in dizzy gyres deceives the eyes,
Bounds, leaps, and cuts the way, and all con-
Mild by degrees, it ftands, and (coops the ground,
troul denies.
Steddily fpins, and whirls itself around
Rapidly fill, its lulling motions keep

A whizzing, finging, humming, droning fleep;
Giddy at length, and by a flow decay
It reels a-while, and hobling rouls away:
Dead till the cord renews its force, and then
Refumes its vigour and its life again.

Hail, grateful play-thing, whence our pleasures
flow,

Pleafures unmixt, and joys unfower'd with woe,
From thee the youth, kind fortune fo decrees,
Catch a fincere, tho' tranfitory blifs;
Which, tho' 'tis fhort, repeated cannot cloy,
For oft resuming, often we enjoy.

Thus man, by Nature's cords fet up on earth,
Active appears, and vig'rous from his birth ;.
In time fedate exhaufts his native fires,
Blooms for a while, then, fick of life, retires,
Then, if we may the Samian fage believe,
Wound up again, again begins to live;

Once more exerts his bafted pomp, that's thewn
In borrow'd life, and power not his own,
Yet while he fets the little engine up,
He, thoughtless, knows not when himfelf

may drop,

[a top

A Poem on the last day. Since Fortune plays with him, and he himselt's

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The Gentleman's Magazine, Volume 35