[The following anecdote related by Nathan, the composer of the music, will show Byron's carelessness occasionally in regard to his verses: ‘Having been officiously taken up by a person who arrogated to himself some self-importance in criticism, and who made an observation upon their demerits, Lord Byron quaintly observed, “They were written in haste, and they shall perish in the same manner!” and immediately consigned them to the flames. As my music adapted to them, however, did not share the same fate, and having a contrary opinion of anything that might fall from the pen of his Lordship, I treasured them up, and on a subsequent interview with his Lordship, I accused him of having committed suicide in making so valuable a burnt-offering: to which he smilingly replied, “The act seems to inflame you; come, Nathan, since you are displeased with the sacrifice , I will give them to you as a peace-offering , use them as you may deem proper.”’]

They say that Hope is happiness;
 But genuine Love must prize the past,
And Memory wakes the thoughts that bless;
 They rose the first—they set the last.

And all that Memory loves the most
 Was once our only Hope to be,
And all that Hope adored and lost
 Hath melted into Memory.

Alas! it is delusion all;
 The future cheats us from afar,
Nor can we be what we recall,
 Nor dare we think on what we are.

EPHEMERAL VERSES

[These squibs, bits of satire, and broken rhymes are taken chiefly from Byron's Letters . None of the verses were published in any edition of his poems during the author's life. The titles and dates here given indicate the letters from which the verses are taken, when no other source is indicated.]