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The soul is out of tune—its sweet notes scattered— Vexed—irritable—harsh—its power is flown: Like some fine lute, whose higher chords are shattered By forcing too much music from their tone.

But few can pity such a mood as this, Because they know it not—calm is their sadness, Tranquil their joy; they know not how it is    Genius is feverish in its grief and gladness.

It has no quiet; for it could not live In the far sunlight of some placid ocean; It asks the warring winds and waves that give Need for its strength, and life to its emotion.

And then it suffers bitterly—consuming With the fierce struggle which itself hath sought; While fame the future’s mighty world illuming Is never wholly by the present bought.

Fame is a noble vision, fixed for ever— Praise is its mockery—the one word of praise A thousand come, of blame for each endeavour That turns the mind’s pure light on coming days.

All daily ills beset its daily path: Poverty—toil—neglect—dislike—and sorrow; The many visit it with scorn and wrath— Its hopes come never nearer than the morrow.

Vainly did he resist—half mirth—half rage,— The weight with which the world on genius presses; What bitter truths are flung upon his page, Truths which the lip denies—the heart confesses.

Life is a fable, with its lesson last; Genius, too, has its fable and its moral: Of all the trees that down their shadows cast, Choose you a wreath from any but the laurel.


 * Newstead Abbey, celebrated as having been the paternal estate of Lord Byron, is situated in Nottinghamshire, within a short distance of Mansfield. It was founded in 1170, by Henry II as a priory for Black Canons, and was granted, at the period of the dissolution of religious houses, to Sir John Byron, lieutenant of Sherwood forest, in Henry the Eighth’s time. The grantee incorporated part of the Abbey with his dwelling-house, but suffered the Church to fall into decay. Although the estate continued in the Byron family until 1815, the mansion and offices, which are all in the ecclesiastical style, were much neglected, and the antique and valuable furniture of the chief apartments, alienated by the representatives of the family. The eccentric author of Childe Harolde disposed of this patrimonial inheritance to T. Clawton Esq., for the sum of £140,000, by whom it was resold to Colonel Wildman for £100,000. It is now in a most perfect state of repair, and, independent of the interest it derives from having once belonged to, perhaps, the first of English poets, it possesses very considerable claim to admiration, as a splendid and beautiful private residence.