"In Arts and Sciences our Isle hath shone" (This deep discovery is mine alone). Oh "British poesy, whose powers inspire" My verse--or I'm a fool--and Fame's a liar, "Thee we invoke, your Sister Arts implore" With "smiles," and "lyres," and "pencils," and much more. 30 These, if we win the Graces, too, we gain _Disgraces_, too! "inseparable train!" "Three who have stolen their witching airs from Cupid" (You all know what I mean, unless you're stupid): "Harmonious throng" that I have kept _in petto_ Now to produce in a "divine _sestetto_"!! "While Poesy," with these delightful doxies, "Sustains her part" in all the "upper" boxes! "Thus lifted gloriously, you'll sweep along," Borne in the vast balloon of Busby's song; 40 "Shine in your farce, masque, scenery, and play" (For this last line George had a holiday). "Old Drury never, never soar'd so high," So says the Manager, and so say I. "But hold," you say, "this self-complacent boast;" Is this the Poem which the public lost? "True--true--that lowers at once our mounting pride;" But lo;--the Papers print what you deride. "'Tis ours to look on _you_--_you_ hold the prize," 'Tis _twenty guineas_, as they advertise! 50 "A _double_ blessing your rewards impart"-- I wish I had them, then, with all my heart. "Our _twofold_ feeling _owns_ its twofold cause," Why son and I both beg for your applause. "When in your fostering beams you bid us live," My next subscription list shall say how much you give! [First published, _Morning Chronicle_, October 23, 1812.] VERSES FOUND IN A SUMMER-HOUSE AT HALES-OWEN.[46] When Dryden's fool, "unknowing what he sought," His hours in whistling spent, "for want of thought,"[47] This guiltless oaf his vacancy of sense Supplied, and amply too, by innocence: Did modern swains, possessed of Cymon's powers, In Cymon's manner waste their leisure hours, Th' offended guests would not, with blushing, see These fair green walks disgraced by infamy. Severe the fate of modern fools, alas! When vice and folly mark them as they pass. Like noxious reptiles o'er the whitened wall, The filth they leave still points out where they crawl. [First published, 1832, vol. xvii.] REMEMBER THEE! REMEMBER THEE![48] 1. Remember thee! remember thee! Till Lethe quench life's burning stream Remorse and Shame shall cling to thee, And haunt thee like a feverish dream! 2. Remember thee! Aye, doubt it not. Thy husband too shall think of thee: By neither shalt thou be forgot, Thou _false_ to him, thou _fiend_ to me![49] [First published, _Conversations of Lord Byron_, 1824.]