Star. — 1830-05-04 (London, England)

THE LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE. " As, by some tyrant's stern command. A wretch forsakes his native land, In foreign climes condemn'd to roam, An mites. exile from his home; Pensive he treads the destined way, And dreads to go, nor dares to stay ; Till on some neighbouring mountain's brow He stops, and turns his eye below ; There, melting at the well-known view, Drops a last tear, and bids adieu : So I, thus doom'd from thee to part, Gay queen of fancy and of art, Reluctant move with doubtful mind, Oft stop, and often look behind !  " Companion of my tender age, Serenely gay, and sweetly sage, How blithsome were we wont to rove By verdant bill, or shady grove Where fervent bees with humming voice Around the honey'd oak rejoice, And aged elms, with awful bend, In long cathedral walks extend:! Lull'd by the lapse of gliding floods, Chcer'd by the warbling of the woods, How West my days, my thoughts how free, In sweet society with thee ! Then all was joyous, all was young, And years unheeded roll'd along : But now the pleasing dream is o'er,— These scenes must charm me now no more : Lost to the field, and torn from you, Farewell !-4 long, a last adieu! " The wrangling courts, and stubborn law, To smoke, and crowds, and cities draw ; Their selfish Faction rules the day, And Pride and Avarice throng the way ; Diseases taint the murky air, And midnight conflagrations glare; Loose Revelry and Riot bold, In frighted streets their orgies hold ; Or when in silence all is drown'd, Fell Murder walks her lonely round; No room for peace, no room for you— Adieu, celestial Nymph, adieu!  Shakspeare no more, thy sylvan son, Nor all the art of Addison, Pope's heaven-strung lyre, nor Wallet $ ease. Nor Milton's mighty self must please : Instead of these a funnel band In furs and coifs around me stand, With sounds uncouth, and accents dry That grate the soul of harmony. Each pedant sage unlocks his store Of mystic, dark, discordant lore ; And points with tottering hand the way That lead me to the thorny maze ! " There, in a winding, close retreat, Is Justice domed to fix her seat ; There, fenced by bulwarks of the law, She keeps the wondering world in awe ; And there, from vulgar sight retied, Like eastern queens, is much admired! " Oh ! let me pierce the secret shade, Where dwells the venerable maid ! There humbly mark, with reverent awe. The guardian of Britannia's law; Unfold with joy her sacred page (The united boast of many an age, Where mix'd though uniform appears The wisdom of a thousand years), In that pure spring the bottom view, Vicar, deep, and regularly true, And other doctrines thence imbibe, , Then lurk within the sordid scribe ; ' Observe how parts with parts unite In one harmonious rule of right ; . ' See countless wheels distinctly tend, By various laws, to one great end ; While mighty Alfred's piercing sod Pervades and regulates the whole ! " Then welcome business, welcome strife, Welcome the cares, the thorns of life, The visage wan, the pere.blind sight, The toil by day, the lamp by night, The tedious forms, the solemn prate, The pert dispute, the dull debate, • The drowsy bench, the babbling bans For thee, fair Justico, welcome all ! " Thus, though my noon of life be past, Yet let my setting sun at last Find out the still, the rural cell Where sage Retirement loves to dwell! There let me taste the home felt bliss Of innocence and inward peace; Untainted by the guilty bride, Uncurled amid the harpy tribe ; No orphan's cry to wound my ear, My honour and my conscience clear ; Thus may I calmly meet my end, Thus to the grave in peace descend !"