The Works of Lord Byron Volume I Part 72

9.

And as he, with his boys, shall revisit this spot, He will tell them in whispers more softly to tread.

Oh! surely, by these I shall ne'er be forgot; Remembrance still hallows the dust of the dead.

10.

And here, will they say, when in Life's glowing prime, Perhaps he has pour'd forth his young simple lay, And here must he sleep, till the moments of Time Are lost in the hours of Eternity's day.

1807. [First published 1832.]

["Copied for Mr. Moore, Jan. 24, 1828."--Note by Miss Pigot.]

[Footnote 1: There is no heading to the original MS., but on the blank leaf at the end of the poem is written,

"To an oak in the garden of Newstead Abbey, planted by the author in the 9th year of [his] age; this tree at his last visit was in a state of decay, though perhaps not irrecoverable."

On arriving at Newstead, in 1798, Byron, then in his eleventh year, planted an oak, and cherished the fancy, that as the tree flourished so should he. On revisiting the abbey, he found the oak choked up by weeds and almost destroyed;--hence these lines. Shortly after Colonel Wildman took possession, he said to a servant,

"Here is a fine young oak; but it must be cut down, as it grows in an improper place."

"I hope not, sir, "replied the man, "for it's the one that my lord was so fond of, because he set it himself."

_Life_, p. 50, note.]

[Footnote i:

_For ages may s.h.i.+ne_.

[_MS. Newstead_]]

ON REVISITING HARROW. [1]

1.

Here once engaged the stranger's view Young Friends.h.i.+p's record simply trac'd; Few were her words,--but yet, though few, Resentment's hand the line defac'd.

2.

Deeply she cut--but not eras'd-- The characters were still so plain, That Friends.h.i.+p once return'd, and gaz'd,-- Till Memory hail'd the words again.

3.

Repentance plac'd them as before; Forgiveness join'd her gentle name; So fair the inscription seem'd once more, That Friends.h.i.+p thought it still the same.

4.

Thus might the Record now have been; But, ah, in spite of Hope's endeavour, Or Friends.h.i.+p's tears, Pride rush'd between, And blotted out the line for ever.

September, 1807.

[First published in Moore's 'Life and Letters, etc.', 1830, i. 102.]

[Footnote 1:

"Some years ago, when at Harrow, a friend of the author engraved on a particular spot the names of both, with a few additional words, as a memorial. Afterwards, on receiving some real or imaginary injury, the author destroyed the frail record before he left Harrow. On revisiting the place in 1807, he wrote under it these stanzas."

Moore's 'Life, etc.', i. 102.]]

TO MY SON. [1]