[Footnote 2: This word is erroneously pronounced 'plad'; the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography.] [Footnote 3: I allude here to my maternal ancestors, "the Gordons," many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, to the Stuarts. George, the second Earl of Huntley, married the Princess Annabella Stuart, daughter of James I. of Scotland. By her he left four sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honour to claim as one of my progenitors.] [Footnote 4: Whether any perished in the Battle of Culloden, I am not certain; but, as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, "pars pro toto."] [Footnote 5: A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a Castle of Braemar.] [Footnote 6: The Bagpipe.--'Hours of Idleness'. (See note, p. 133.)] [Footnote 7: The love of mountains to the last made Byron "Hail in each crag a friend's familiar face, And Loch na Garr with Ida looked o'er Troy." 'The Island' (1823), Canto II. stanza xii.] TO ROMANCE. 1. Parent of golden dreams, Romance! Auspicious Queen of childish joys, Who lead'st along, in airy dance, Thy votive train of girls and boys; At length, in spells no longer bound, I break the fetters of my youth; No more I tread thy mystic round, But leave thy realms for those of Truth. 2. And yet 'tis hard to quit the dreams Which haunt the unsuspicious soul, Where every nymph a goddess seems, [i] Whose eyes through rays immortal roll; While Fancy holds her boundless reign, And all assume a varied hue; When Virgins seem no longer vain, And even Woman's smiles are true. 3. And must we own thee, but a name, And from thy hall of clouds descend? Nor find a Sylph in every dame, A Pylades [1] in every friend? But leave, at once, thy realms of air [ii] To mingling bands of fairy elves; Confess that woman's false as fair, And friends have feeling for--themselves? 4. With shame, I own, I've felt thy sway; Repentant, now thy reign is o'er; No more thy precepts I obey, No more on fancied pinions soar; Fond fool! to love a sparkling eye, And think that eye to truth was dear; To trust a passing wanton's sigh, And melt beneath a wanton's tear! 5. Romance! disgusted with deceit, Far from thy motley court I fly, Where Affectation holds her seat, And sickly Sensibility; Whose silly tears can never flow For any pangs excepting thine; Who turns aside from real woe, To steep in dew thy gaudy shrine. 6.