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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396259" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To The Duke Of Dorset</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,<br>Exploring every path of Ida's glade; <br>Whom still affection taught me to defend <br>And made me less a tyrant than a friend <br>Though the harsh custom of our youthful band<br>Bade thee obey, and gave me to command; <br>Thee, on whose head a few short years will shower<br>The gift of riches and the pride of power; <br>E'en now a name illustrious is thine own, <br>Renown'd in rank, nor far beneath the throne.<br>Yet, Dorset, let not this seduce thy soul<br>To shun fair science, or evade control,<br>Though passive tutors, fearful to dispraise<br>The titled child, whose future breath may raise,<br>View ducal errors with indulgent eyes, <br>And wink at faults they tremble to chastise<br>When youthful parasites, who bend the knee<br>To wealth, their golden idol, not to thee,--<br>And even in simple boyhood 's opening dawn<br>Some slaves are found to flatter and to fawn,--<br>When these declare, ' that pomp alone should wait<br>On one by birth predestined to be great; <br>That books were only meant for drudging fools,<br>That gallant spirits scorn the common rules;'<br>Believe them not;– they point the path to shame,<br>And seek to blast the honours of thy name.<br>Turn to the few in Ida's early throng, <br>Whose souls disdain not to condemn the wrong;<br>Or if, amidst the comrades of thy youth, <br>None dare to raise the sterner voice of truth,<br>Ask thine own heart; 'twill bid thee, boy, forbear;<br>For well I know that virtue lingers there. <br>Yes! I have mark'd thee many a passing day,<br>But now new scenes invite me far away; <br>Yes! I have mark'd within that generous mind<br>A soul, if well matured, to bless mankind. <br>Ah! though myself by nature haughty, wild,<br>Whom Indiscretion hail'd her favourite child;<br>Though every error stamps me for her own,<br>And dooms my fall, I fain would fall alone;<br>Though my proud heart no precept now can tame,<br>I love the virtues which I cannot claim. <br>'Tis not enough, with other sons of power<br>To gleam tile lambent meteor of an hour; <br>To swell some peerage page in feeble pride,<br>With long-drawn names that grace no page beside;<br>Then share with titled crowds the common lot– <br>In life just gazed at, in the grave forgot; <br>While nought divides thee from the vulgar dead,<br>Except the dull cold stone that hides thy head,<br>The mouldering 'scutcheon, or the herald's roll,<br>That well-emblazon'd but neglected scroll, <br>Where lords, unhonour'd, in the tomb may find<br>One spot, to leave a worthless name behind.<br>There sleep, unnoticed as the gloomy vaults<br>That veil their dust, their follies, and their faults,<br>A race, with old armorial lists o'erspread, <br>In records destined never to be read. <br>Fain would I view thee, with prophetic eyes,<br>Exalted more among the good and wise, <br>A glorious and a long career pursue, <br>As first in rank, the first in talent too:<br>Spurn every vice, each little meanness shun;<br>Not Fortune's minion, but her noblest son. <br>Turn to the annals of a former day;<br>Bright are the deeds thine earlier sires play.<br>One, though a Courtier, lived a man of worth,<br>And call'd, proud boast! the British drama forth.<br>Another view, not less renown'd for wit; <br>Alike for Courts, and camps, or senates fit;<br>Bold in the field, and favour'd by the Nine; <br>In every splendid part ordain'd to shine; <br>Far, far distingish'd ish'd from the glittering throng,<br>The pride of princes, and the boast of song. <br>Such were thy fathers; thus preserve their name;<br>Not heir to titles only, but to fame. <br>The hour draws nigh, a few brief days will close,<br>To me, this little scene of joys and woes; <br>Each knell of Time now warns me to resign<br>Shades where Hope, Peace, and Friendship all were mine:<br>Hope, that could vary like the rainbow's hue,<br>And gild their pinions as the moments flew;<br>Peace, that reflection never frown'd away,<br>By dreams of ill to cloud some future day;<br>Friendship, whose truth let childhood only tell;<br>Alas! they love not long, who love so well.<br>To these adieu! nor let me linger o'er<br>Scenes hail'd, as exiles hall their native shore,<br>Receding, slowly through the dark-blue deep, <br>Beheld by eyes that mourn, yet cannot weep.<br>Dorset, farewell! I will not ask one part <br>Of sad remembrance in so young a heart; <br>The coming morrow from thy youthful mind<br>Will sweep my name, nor leave a trace behind.<br>And yet, perhaps, in some maturer year, <br>Since chance has thrown us in the self same sphere,<br>Since the same senate, nay, the same debate,<br>May one day claim our suffrage for the state,<br>We hence may meet, and pass each other by<br>With faint regard, or cold and distant eye.<br>For me, in future, neither friend nor foe, <br>A stranger to thyself thy weal or woe,<br>With thee non more saain I hope to trace <br>The recollection of our early race;<br>No more, as once, in social hours rejoice, <br>Or hear, unless in crowds, thy well-known voice:<br>Still, if the wishes of a heart untaught <br>To veil those feelings which perchance it ought,<br>If these – but let me cease the lengthen'd strain,--<br>Oh! if these wishes arc not breathed in vain, <br>The guardian seraph who directs thy fate<br>Will leave thee glorious, as he found thee great.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396259" data-title="To The Duke Of Dorset de Byron" data-description="Dorset! whose early steps with mine have stray'd,
Exploring every path of Ida's glade; 
Whom still affection taught me to defend 
And made me less a tyrant than a friend 
Though the harsh custom of our youthful band
Bade thee obey, and gave me to ..."></div>
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