PR 435*3 BYRON'S LECT POEMS HOWE j(f^w^ T^SSSSi^t, Book 'H <^3„ Ebc Scrlbncr j&iidUeb Cladsicd EDITED BY FREDERICK H. SYKES, Ph.D. TEACHERS COLLEGE, COLUMBIA tJNIVERSITT LORD BYRON SELECT POEMS INCLUDING MAZEPPA, THE PRISONER OF CHILLON AND CHILDE HAROLD, IV The Scribner English Classics. Prof. Frederick H. Sykes, Ph.D., Teachers College, Columbia Uni- versity, General Editor. TWENTY-FIVE CENTS EACH. ADDISON AND STEELE. Selections from The Spectator. Edited by Edwin Fairley, Jamaica High School. BROWNING. Shorter Poems. Edited by Prof. John W. Cunliffe, University of Wisconsin. BURKE. Speech for Conciliation with the Colonies. Edited by Dean Thomas Arkle Clark, University of Illinois. BYRON. Select Poems. Edited by Prof. Will D. Howe, Indiana University. CARLYLE. Essay on Burns. Edited by Prof. Archibald MacMechan, Dalhousie University. COLERIDGE. The Ancient Mariner, and Select Poems. Edited by Prof. Henry M. Belden, University of Missouri. ELIOT. Silas Marner. Edited by Prof. F. T. Baker, Teachers College, Columbia University. GASKELL. Cranford. Edited by Katherine E. Forster, Eastern Kentucky State Normal School. MACAULAY. Life and Writings of Addison. ) ^ , Essay on Johnson. \ ^"^ ^^1"^^' Edited by Prof. Cecil Lavell, Queen's University, Kingston. MACAULAY. Lays of Ancient Rome. Edited by Prof. Arthur Beatty, University of Wisconsin. MILTON. Shorter Poems. Edited by Dean Clarence G. Child, University of Pennsylvania. SCOTT. Lady of the Lake. Edited by Ralph H. Bowles, formerly of The Phillips Exeter Academy. SHAKESPEARE. Julius Caesar. Edited by Prof. F. H. Sykes, Teachers College, Columbia University. SHAKESPEARE. Macbeth. Edited by Prof. F. H. Sykes, Teachers College, Columbia University. STEVENSON. Treasure Island. Edited with notes and biographical sketch STEVENSON. Travels with a Donkey. Edited with notes and biographical sketch. STEVENSON. An Inland Voyage. Edited vrith notes and biographical sketch. WASHINGTON. Farewell Address. ) ^ , WEBSTER. First Bunker Hill Oration. 5 volume. Edited by Dean Thomas Arkle Clark, University of Illinois. OTHERS IN PREPARATION. CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS Lord J^yron From an eiiKraviiiji; of a paintinji; by T. Phillips, 1{..\. Zbc Scrfbncr iSnglleb Clasefca LORD BYRON SELECT POEMS INCLUDING MAZEPPA, THE PRISONER OF CHILLON, THE FOURTH CANTO OF CHILDE HAROLD SELECTED AND EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BT WILL D. HOWE, Ph.D. PROFESSOR OF ENGLISH, INDIANA UNIVERSITY NEW YORK CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 1912 '^^'l f^'^V Copyright, 1912, by Charles Scribner's Sons £"1^ gCI.A309473 CONTENTS INTRODUCTION: PAGF. I. Byron's Life vii II. Byron's Work xiv III. Poems with Dates of Publication . . . xvi IV. Editions and Books for Reference . . . xvii TEXT: On Leaving Newstead Abbey 3 On a Distant View of the Village and School of Harrow on the Hill 5 Lachin y Gair 7 The Prayer of Nature 9 Stanzas Composed During a Thunder Storm . . 12 Address, Spoken at the Opening of Drury-Lane Theatre 15 When We Two Parted 18 Hebrew Melodies: She Walks in Beauty 20 The Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept ... 21 If that High World 22 The Wild Gazelle 22 Oh! Weep for Those 23 On Jordan's Banks 24 Jephtha's Daughter 25 Oh! Snatched Away in Beauty's Bloom ... 26 My Soul is Dark 26 I Saw Thee Weep 27 Thy Days are Done 28 V vi CONTENTS Hebrew Melodies — {Continued) PAGE Song of Saul Before His Last Battle ... 29 Saul 29 "All is Vanity, saith the Preacher" ... 31 When Coldness Wraps this Suffering Clay 32 Vision of Belshazzar 33 Sun of the Sleepless 35 Were My Bosom as False as Thou Deem'st it TO Be 36 Herod's Lament for Mariamne 36 On the Day of the Destruction of Jerusalem BY Titus 37 By the Rivers of Babylon We Sat Down and Wept 38 By the Waters of Babylon 39 The Destruction of Sennacherib .... 40 A Spirit Passed Before Me 41 Prometheus 44 To Thomas Moore 46 On This Day I Complete My Thirty-sixth Year . 47 Childe Harold, Canto IV 49 The Prisoner of Chillon 112 Mazeppa 126 Don Juan ("The Shipwreck," Canto II) .... 155 Don Juan ("The Isles of Greece," Canto III) . 180 NOTES 185 INDEX TO NOTES 221 INTRODUCTION I.— BYRON'S LIFE LORD BYRON was born in London, January 22, 1788. His -^ father was Captain Byron, the scion of an ancient family which had come to England in the eleventh century with William the Conqueror. His mother was Catherine Gordon, whose name he took, owing to the will of a maternal ancestor. Until the time of his maturity he was always called George Gordon. The boy was born with a club-foot, which throughout his life caused him serious pain and made him very sensitive. Captam Byron soon spent most of his wife's fortune and then disap- peared. Thereupon, the mother moved with her child to Aber- deen, Scotland. When the son was five years old, he was sent to a private school in Aberdeen where he remained for a year. Then for a time he was placed in charge of a tutor, a clergyman, for whom Byron always kept an enthusiastic admiration. Later he went to school at Harrow. At Harrow, Byron became a leader among the boys. Pas- sionately fond of out-of-door sports, especially cricket and swim- ming, he represented his school in a cricket match with Eton and acquired a skill in swimming which he retained throughout life. He was not industrious in his studies, but he read extensively, became proficient in speaking and in writing verse, and formed many lasting friendships. By the death of his great-uncle. Lord Byron of Newstead Abbey, he inherited the estates and the title by which to-day he is commonly known. In 1805, at the age of seventeen, Byron went from Harrow to Trinity College, Cambridge. In his Childish Recollections he has left us an illuminating account of his feelings in entering viil BYRON'S SELECT POEMS upon his University work. "When I first went up to College, it was a new and heavy-hearted scene to me: firstly, I so much disliked leaving Harrow, that though it was time (I being seven- teen) it broke my very rest for the last quarter with counting the days that remained. I always hated Harrow till the last year and a half, but then I liked it. Secondly, I wished to go to Oxford and not to Cambridge. Thirdly, I was so completely alone in this new world, that it half broke my spirits. My companions were not unsocial, but on the contrary lively, hos- pitable, of rank and fortune, and gay beyond my gaiety. I mingled with and dined and supped with them; but I know not how, it was one of the deadliest and heaviest feelings of my life to feel that I was no longer a boy." At Cambridge, Byron led a reckless life, became distinguished for his riding, swimming, shooting, and boxing, surrounded him- self with strange animals as his pets, dressed with oriental mag- nificence, and often talked all night with small groups of brilliant friends. He had already acquired an intense passion for the Old Testament and for the poetry of Pope, and now was be- ginning to write fluently after the manner of that famous eigh- teenth century poet. In November, 1806, he printed for private circulation the first issue of his juvenile poems. Favorable criticism of these early verses prompted him to publish the volume called Hours of Idleness (1807). A life of ease and repose was, however, not for this young man, full of energy and passion. He soon tired of the aca- demic life, and in 1808 he left Cambridge without his degree, and began a career unique in the lives of literary men for its variety, its passionate melancholy, and its brilliant and lasting achievement. Passing from London to Newstead, from Brighton to Cam- bridge, he spent months of aimless energy, till he was stung to the quick by the criticism in The Edinburgh Review directed against his volume of poems. Unable to repress his pride and anger, he wrote in haste and published his brilliant satire, Eng- lish Bards and Scotch Reviewers. This vivid and malicious bit of verse, after the manner of the literary satire of Dryden and INTRODUCTION ix Pope, showed extraordinary acumen and power of phrase-mak- ing which make the lines easy to be remembered. The poem lacked, however, real critical distinction. The work was published anonymously in March, 1809, and was followed by a second edition under his name in October of the same year. A third and a fourth edition appeared within the next two years. Then he revised the whole for a fifth edition, whereupon he decided to suppress the work and destroyed all the copies which could be found. For the second edition he wrote a preface which began as follows: " All my friends, learned and unlearned, have urged me not to publish this satire with my name. If I were to be 'turned from the career of my humor by quibbles quick and paper bullets of the brain,' I should have complied with their coun- sel. But I am not to be terrified by abuse, or bullied by re- viewers, with or without arms. I can safely say that I have attacked none personally, who did not commence the attack." It should be added that within three years, with most of these men, Moore, Scott, Southey, Wordsworth, Coleridge, he had acquired a relationship of friendliness, even intimacy. The bold and rash invective against the chief poets and critics of the day was a work of impulse rather than of reflection and was re- gretted by Byron later in life when he came to know the men whom he had assailed. A few days before this satire appeared, Byron, having become of age, presented himself to the House of Lords with the inten- tion of taking his seat. Though he thought of entering upon a life of politics, he could not withstand the craving for adventure, and left Parliament without sharing in its work. In June he left London with his friend Hobhouse and for two years travelled on the Continent, through Portugal and Spain, along the Med- iterranean, into Greece and the Levant. Everywhere he did something heroic; everywhere he left an impression upon the people he met that here was one of the heroes of old. In south-west Spain he rode horseback for four hundred miles at an average rate of seventy miles in the twenty- four hours; he saw the bull-fights at Cadiz, and described them most enthusiastically; he quarrelled almost to the point of a X BYRON'S SELECT POEMS duel with an officer at Malta; he was entertained at Janina by a famous Albanian bandit; he lost his way in a terrific thun- derstorm; he visited bands of robbers, caves, ruins of ancient temples, and not least of all he swam the Dardanelles from Ses- tos to Abydos. The pages of extravagant mediaeval romance are not more glowing than the record of Byron's adventures abroad. He returned to England in July, 1811. He came back full of romantic ideas which were to take form in all his poems written in the rest of his life. Before he reached Newstead Abbey, his mother died. The relationship between the mother and son had, perhaps, never been ideal, and yet he wrote with sincerity to a friend, " I now feel the truth of Mrs. Gray's observation, that we can only have one mother. Peace be with her! " The death of the only parent that Byron knew and of several of his intimate friends intensified his loneliness and accentuated the melancholy which was born with him. Byron now turned to the writing of Childe Harold. The first two cantos appeared February 29, 1812. This was a great day for Byron and for England. The poet awoke to find himself famous, his country to be introduced to a Europe that knew of all the English poets only Shakespeare, and Shakespeare only in translation. It is difficult for us to realize to ourselves the literary isolation of England of a hundred years ago. Even more difficult is it to imagine the social and political England and Europe of that time. America and France, coming out of revolutions so different in spirit and in result, had set the world thinking of a new political liberty. Germany had rent the fetters of intellectual bondage and had produced a new philosophy. England had entered upon a splendid era of im- aginative idealism where man and nature were to find a new place. Not since the spacious times of Queen Elizabeth were there such hope and enthusiasm. And now after the nineteenth century has closed, we can say that the hope and enthusiasm were justified. Into this great epoch came Byron with Childe Harold. For it the character of the man and his work seemed peculiarly adapted. He was a young man of striking appearance, of noble INTRODUCTION xi family, inheriting one of the fine estates of feudal England. His youth, passion, brilliant talk, physical prowess, skill at happy phrase-making, melancholy, rakish, almost vulgar humor, his verses, easy but not over polished, his rashness in holding the masters up to ridicule, his romantic adventures abroad — these made Byron the man of the hour. And the poem! That presented in rapid narrative, which could be understood by everybody, an ideal wanderer in an age when the desire to travel was well-nigh as strong as in the days of the great discoveries. It transported an eager people into foreign lands and showed them there the monuments of the great and silent past. It made the ears tingle with eloquent and imag- inative descriptions of foreign scenery. It rang with passionate appeal for personal liberty and sounded, as it were, a call to arms for the battle against convention and oppressive monarchy. The poem ran through seven editions in four weeks. Its author was acclaimed everywhere. He spoke in Parliament several times, always espousing the Liberal side as opposed to the Conservative. He met the distinguished people of his day, poets, essayists, statesmen, men of science. Three years he spent in social dissipation and feverish work and seemed to have attained a popularity which could not suffer eclipse. Then the tide turned. In January, 1815, Byron married Miss Isabella Milbanke. He had been excessively admired and sought after. Every one felt the charm of his presence. Walter Scott wrote, "His countenance is a thing to dream of." Besides, his sudden rise into w^orld-wide fame and all the adventures as- sociated with his name combined to fascinate all who knew him. It is difficult to conceive how any human being could withstand such universal flattery; it was impossible for such popularity to continue. Within a year after the marriage. Lady Byron, taking with her their infant daughter, Augusta Ada, left her husband and went home to her parents. Byron supposed it was merely a short visit and was astounded to receive a letter from her father saying that she would not and should not return. For us it is futile to inquire into the causes of the separation. With no evidence in behalf of Byron or against him, society turned from xii BYRON'S SELECT POEMS its hero and espoused the cause of Lady Byron. Scandal-mon- gers, envious verse-makers, the conventional and the orthodox, hastened to add fuel to the blaze. So severe was the persecu- tion that the poet dared not go to the theatre nor to Parlia- ment. Even his presence on the street was the signal for a mob. It was another and a striking example of the fickleness of pop- ularity. Upon a man so sensitive as Byron naturally was, the effect must have been almost unendurable. He had always maintained that he had been born under an unlucky star. Now he knew. The state of popular feeling prompted him to an immediate de- cision. In great haste he arranged his affairs and left England, April 25, 1816, never to return alive to his native country. From 1812 to 1816 Byron worked on his Oriental Tales and published The Giaour, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair, Lara, The Siege of Corinth. The public, which had had its taste for romantic adventure formed by Scott, now turned eagerly to these thrilling melodramas in verse. The love story of Scott with its idealized heroine was supplanted by the oriental narra- tive of Byron abounding in passionate excitement. A combat was no longer the gentlemanly joust of two mediaeval knights but a real fight where bullets flew and swords slashed. Few readers turned away from the pages of Byron's tales with the feeling that the poet had not fully satisfied their craving for blood. The man Byron they might despise, but they devoured his poetry. Byron left England in the spring of 1816. From London he went to Waterloo, thence up the Rhine to Switzerland, where he met, first, the German philosopher, Schlegel, and then Shel- ley and the great French woman of the time, Madame de Stael. This association stimulated him greatly, and roused him from his gloom and depression. Especially Shelley with his fine appreciation of the sights about him refined Byron's sensitive- ness to the glory of lake and mountain. In Switzerland Byron wrote The Prisoner of Chillon, the third canto of Childe Harold, and the drama Manfred. In the autumn Byron visited several of the Italian cities, among them Milan and Verona, and finally settled in Venice. INTRODUCTION xiii Here for two years he plunged into wild dissipation, hounded by malicious scandals of English society. His health began to break, his amiability yieldod to irritability, his melancholy to moroseness. With almost superhuman fortitude he kept at work and wrote the fourth canto of Childe Harold, Beppo, and the first four cantos of Don Juan, and other poems. At intervals, he travelled about in Italy, remaining for a time at Ravenna, Pisa, and Leghorn, meeting distinguished people and growing more and more interested in Italian poli- tics. Over the failure of the Revolutionary party in Italy Byron was sorely disappointed. His spirit seemed crushed, but he did not give way to despair. "If I live ten years longer," he wrote in 1822, "you will see that it is not all over with me. I don't mean in literature, for that is nothing, and I do not think it was my vocation, but I shall do something." The struggle of the Greeks for freedom offered him his opportunity. He re- solved to place his personal fortune and his life at the disposal of the Greek revolutionaries. After great preparations had been made and a ship equipped, on the morning of July 14, 1823, he started for Greece. He was accompanied by three friends and eight servants, besides the crew. The ship carried ammu- nition and a large sum of money. He narrowly escaped capture by the Turks, and was received by the Greeks with wonderful enthusiasm. This was to be the last year of his life, and in that year he was not to know rest. Eager to achieve success, he was harassed by his enemies, cheated by the Greeks, who thought his re- sources inexhaustible. Such nervous turmoil would soon break even the strongest of men. Weakened physically, he became an easy subject to rheumatic fever. He had not the strength to overcome the attack, and died on April 19, 1824, at Misso- longhi. From the account of his life by his friend, Thomas Moore, we quote a passage describing the funeral: "In the midst of his own brigade, of the troops of the government, and of the whole population, on the shoulders of the officers of his corps, relieved occasionally by other Greeks, the most precious por- tion of his honored remains were carried to the Church where xiv BYRON'S SELECT POEMS He the bodies of Marco Bozzarls and of General Mormanna. There we laid them down: the coffin a rude, ill-constructed chest of wood; a black mantle served for a pall; and over it we placed a helmet and a sword and a crown of laurel. But no funeral pomp could have left the impression, nor spoken the feelings of the simple ceremony. The wretchedness and desola- tion of the place itself; the wild and half-civilized warriors around us; their deep-felt, unaffected grief, the fond recollec- tions, the disappointed hopes, the disappointments and pre- sentiments which might be read on every countenance, all contributed to form a scene more moving, more truly affecting than perhaps was ever before witnessed round the grave of a great man." Three months afterward the body was carried to England and buried in the village church of Hucknall, near Newstead. So were closed the chapters of the life of one of the most re- markable men of all time. IL— BYROxN'S WORK That Byron was one of the literary heroes of the first half of the nineteenth century cannot be denied; equally futile would it be to deny that in the second half of the century his popularity as rapidly declined. It is perhaps worth while to inquire briefly into the causes of that popularity and its decline. The nineteenth century began with many vague hopes. Politically and socially, Europe had been stirred in the closing years of the eighteenth century with ideas which promised much for the value of human life. Men were beginning to reconsider what they were and the position and value of each individual in the society in which he lived. It was a time of hope, of dreams, of romance. To such a time Byron appealed. Men recognized in him a man like themselves, of like feelings and passions. People demanded a story-teller and Byron did not fail them. Besides, better than the eighteenth century novelists and romancers, even better than his contemporary, Scott, with his splendid nar- ratives of the mediaeval ages, Byron wrote with a realism that was most satisfying. He took the stories from the far East and INTRODUCTION xv recounted them with enthusiastic vividness, always keeping in the foreground a splendid ideal hero. Rome and Greece, with something of the glamor attaching to them of the centuries of the Renaissance, lay in the path of that idealistic hero. More- over, that hero had the virtues of the great men of old, the love of adventure, an abounding physical strength and courage and absolute individual liberty. As Mr. Morley has said, " Byron's poetry was the glorification of the revolutionary commonplace." Above all this, every one saw in that ideal hero the man Byron. The poet himself had travelled widely, he had dreamed of the past, he had cherished hopes of a new society based on a new liberty, and finally he had given his fortune and his life to the cause of freedom. He had spoken with frank sincerity; he had written with imaginative realism, and finally he had acted with unselfish consistency. In a word, he was human, and not one of the poets of his day — the transcendental Wordsworth, the mystic Coleridge, the sensuous Keats, the ethereal Shelley — not one of these was in the same degree human. Time is the sure judge of lasting fame. Perhaps no phase of literary history is so interesting and so pathetic as the reverses which come to the fame of the once popular writer. The litera- ture of any country abounds in such names. It is possible to in- dicate some of the causes that have led to the decline of the popularity of Byron's poetry. In the first place, he was so completely a representative of his own revolutionary era. Revolutions are not lasting. They are the transition periods. The popular hero, impelled by the ideas of such troublous times, cannot long retain his prestige; Byron was no exception. He did not see deeply into social and eco- nomic conditions. He did not know society and he did not know himself. He had not the modern conception of freedom and democracy, and he had not the scientific spirit. In other words, he failed to see the order in the world, he did not see the laws by which the world moves and which cannot be changed by any declamatory idealist. It is this lack which makes Byron so different from the sane and virile writers of the Vic- torian Era. Greatest of all his limitations, he was not a great artist. He xvi BYRON'S SELECT POEMS wrote with impressive vividness and with extraordinary de- scriptive powers; he wrote easily in verse, certainly too easily, and yet his work lacks the finish and distinction which we find in the highest art. His words are not the final words, they do not have suggestion or connotation. One searches in vain for passages to which one might apply the dictum of Matthew Ar- nold — " the criticism of life" — lines which tell something about life that has always been and always will be true of it. If the judgment of time withholds from Lord Byron a place among the great immortals, yet he will always be read, and he deserves to be. He was not a poet of the decadence, his poetry is the poetry of strength. Ho has certainly written some of our best stories in verse. 'I'he person who has never felt the swing of his narrative verse, who has never been lost in admiration of his interesting personality, who has never followed him on his wanderings into the romantic past — that person will be only less poor than he who has not read Scott or Dickens. ' HI.— POEMS WITH DATES OF PUBLICATION 1807. Hours of Idleness. 1809. English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 1812. Childe Harold (Cantos I and II). The Curse of Minerva. 1813. The Giaour. The Bride of Ahydos. i814. The Corsair. Lara. 1815. Hebrew Melodies. U 1816. The Siege of Corinth. Parisina. The Prisoner of Chillon and Other Poems. Childe Harold (Canto III). 1817. Manfred. 1818. ChUde Harold (Canto IV). 1819. Don Juan (Cantos I and II). Mazep'pa. Ode on Venice. INTRODUCTION xvii 1821. Cain. Marino Faliero. The Two Foscari. Sardanapalus. Dan, Juan (Cantos III, IV, V). 1822. Vision of Judgment. 1823. Werner. The Island. Heaven and Earth. Don Juan (Cantos VI to XIV). 1824. The Deformed Transformed. Don Juan (Cantos XV, XVI). IV.— EDITIONS AND BOOKS FOR REFERENCE The standard edition by R. E. Prothero and E. H. Coleridge in 13 volumes (1898-1903). Single volume editions, Globe (Macmillan); Cambridge (Houghton, Mifflin); Oxford (Clarendon Press); E. H. Coleridge (Scribners). Biographies by Thomas Moore, John Niehol, Roden Noel. Critical essays by T. B. Macaulay, Matthew Arnold, Edward Dowden, A. C. Swinburne, R. H. Hutton, John Morley, G. K. Chesterton, and many others. A Bibliography is appended to the Life of Lord Byron, by the Hon. Roden Noel, in the "Great Writers" series (Walter Scott). BYRON'S SELECT POEMS BYRON'S SELECT POEMS ON LEAVING NEWSTEAD ABBEY " Why dost thou build the hall, son of the winged days? Thou lookest from thy tower to-day; yet a few years, and the blast of the desert comes, it howls in thy empty court." — Ossian. Through thy battlements, Newstead, the hollow winds whistle : Thou, the hall of my fathers, art gone to decay; In thy once smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle Have choked up the rose which late bloomed in the way. Of the mail-covered Barons, who proudly to battle 5 Led their vassals from Europe to Palestine's plain, The escutcheon and shield, which with every blast rattle. Are the only sad vestiges now that remain. No more doth old Robert, with heart-stringing numbers. Raise a flame in the breast of the war-laurelled wreath; lO Near Askalon's towers John of Horistan slumbers. Unnerved is the hand of his minstrel by death. Paul and Hubert, too, sleep in the valley of Cressy; For the safety of Edward and England they fell : 3 4 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS My fathers! the tears of your country redress ye; 15 How you fought, how you died, still her annals can tell. On Marston, with Rupert, 'gainst traitors contending. Four brothers enriched with their blood the bleak field; For the rights of a monarch their country defending. Till death their attachment to royalty sealed. 20 Shades of heroes, farewell; your descendant, departing From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu! Abroad or at home, your remembrance imparting New courage, he'll think upon glory and you. Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation, 25 'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret; Far distant he goes with the same emulation, The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget. That fame and that memory still will he cherish, He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown; 30 Like you will he live, or like you will he perish; When decayed, may he mingle his dust with your own. ON A DISTANT VIEW OF THE VILLAGE AND SCHOOL OF HARROW-ON-THE-HILL "Oh! mihi praeteritos referat si Jupiter annos." — Vergil. Ye scenes of my childhood, whose loved recollection Embitters the present, compared with the past; Where science first dawned on the powers of reflection, And friendships were formed, too romantic to last: Where fancy yet joys to trace the resemblance 5 Of comrades, in friendship and mischief allied; How welcome to me your ne'er-fading remembrance. Which rests in the bosom, though hope is denied! Again I revisit the hills where w^e sported. The streams where w^e swam, and the fields where we fought: lo The school where, loud w^arned by the bell, we resorted, To pore o'er the precepts by pedagogues taught. Again I behold where for hours I have pondered. As reclining, at eve, on yon tombstone I lay; Or round the steep brow of the churchyard I wandered, i5 To catch the last gleam of the sun's setting ray. I once more view" the room, with spectators surrounded. Where, as Zanga, I trod on Alonzo o'erthrown; 5 G BYRON'S SELECT POEMS While, to swell my young pride, such applauses resounded, I fancied that Mossop himself was outshone. 20 Or, as Lear, I poured forth the deep imprecation. By my daughters of kingdom and reason deprived; Till fired by loud plaudits and self-adulation, I regarded myself as a Garrick revived. Ye dreams of my boyhood, how much I regret you! 25 Unfaded your memory dwells in my breast; Though sad and deserted, I ne'er can forget you: Your pleasures may still be in fancy possessed. To Ida full oft may remembrance restore me. While fate shall the shades of the future unroll! 30 Since darkness o'ershadows the prospect before me. More dear is the beam of the past to my soul. But if, through the course of the years which await me. Some new scene of pleasure should open to view, I will say, while with rapture the thought shall elate me, 35 "Oh! such were the days which my infancy knew." LACHIN Y GAIR Away, ye gay landscapes, ye gardens of roses! In you let the minions of luxury rove; Restore me the rocks where the snow-flake reposes, Though still they are sacred to freedom and love: Yet, Caledonia, beloved are thy mountains, 5 Round their white summits though elements war; Though cataracts foam 'stead of smooth-flowing foun- tains, I sigh for the valley of dark Loch na Garr. Ah! there my young footsteps in infancy wandered; My cap was the bonnet, my cloak was the plaid; lO On chieftains long perished my memory pondered. As daily I strode through the pine-covered glade; I sought not my home till the day's dying glory Gave place to the rays of the bright polar star: For fancy was cheered by traditional story, 15 Disclosed by the natives of dark Loch na Garr. "Shades of the dead! have I not heard your voices Rise on the night-rolling breath of the gale?" Surely the soul of the hero rejoices. And rides on the wind, o'er his own Highland vale. 20 Round Loch na Garr while the stormy mist gathers. Winter presides in his cold icy car: Clouds there encircle the forms of my fathers; They dwell in the tempests of dark Loch na Garr. 7 8 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS "Ill-starred, though brave, did no visions foreboding 25 Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?" Ah! were you destined to die at Culloden, Victory crowned not your fall with applause: Still were you happy in death's earthly slumber, You rest with your clan in the caves of Braemar; 30 The pibroch resounds to the piper's loud number, Your deeds on the echoes of dark Loch na Garr. Years have rolled on, Loch na Garr, since I left you. Years must elapse ere I tread you again: Nature of verdure and flowers has bereft you, 35 Yet still are you dearer than Albion's plain. England! thy beauties are tame and domestic. To one who has roved o'er the mountains afar; Oh for the crags that are wild and majestic! The steep frowning glories of dark Loch na Garr! 40 THE PRAYER OF NATURE Father of Light! great God of Heaven! Ilear'st Thou the accents of despair? Can guilt like man's be e'er forgiven ? Can vice atone for crimes by prayer? Father of Light, on Thee I call ! 5 Thou seest my soul is dark within; Thou who canst mark the sparrow's fall. Avert from me the death of sin. No shrine I seek, to sects unknown; Oh, point to me the path of truth! lo Thy dread omnipotence I own; Spare, yet amend, the faults of youth. Let bigots rear a gloomy fane. Let superstition hail the pile. Let priests, to spread their sable reign, 15 With tales of mystic rites beguile. Shall man confine his Maker's sway To Gothic domes of mouldering stone? Thy temple is the face of day; Earth, ocean, heaven. Thy boundless throne. 20 Shall man condemn his race to hell, Unless they bend in pompous form? 9 10 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Tell us that all, for one who fell, Must perish in the mingling storm ? Shall each pretend to reach the skies, 25 Yet doom his brother to expire. Whose soul a different hope supplies. Or doctrines less severe inspire? Shall these, by creeds they can't expound. Prepare a fancied bliss or woe? 30 Shall reptiles, groveling on the ground, Their great Creator's purpose know ? Shall those who live for self alone. Whose years float on in daily crime — Shall they by faith for guilt atone, 35 And live beyond the bounds of Time ? Father! no prophet's laws I seek, — Thy laws in Nature's works appear; I own myself corrupt and weak. Yet will I pray, for Thou wilt hear! 40 Thou, who canst guide the wandering star Through trackless realms of ether's space; Who calm'st the elemental war. Whose hand from pole to pole I trace: — Thou, who in wisdom placed me here, 45 Who, when Thou wilt, canst take me hence, Ah! whilst I tread this earthly sphere, Extend to me Thy wide defence. THE PRAYER OF NATURE 11 To Thee, my God, to Thee I call I Whatever weal or woe betide, 60 By Thy command I rise or fall, In Thy protection I confide. If, when this dust to dust's restored, My soul shall float on airy wing, How shall Thy glorious name adored 65 Inspire her feeble voice to sing! But, if this fleeting spirit share With clay the grave's eternal bed. While life yet throbs I raise my prayer, Though doomed no more to quit the dead. 60 To Thee I breathe my humble strain. Grateful for all Thy mercies past, And hope, my God, to Thee again This erring life may fly at last. STANZAS Composed during a thunder-storm, and while bewildered near Mount Pindus in Albania. Chill and mirk is the nightly blast. Where Pindus' mountains rise, And angry clouds are pouring fast The vengeance of the skies. Our guides are gone, our hope is lost, 5 And lightnings, as they play, But show where rocks our path have crossed. Or gild the torrent's spray. Is yon a cot I saw, though low? When lightning broke the gloom — lO How welcome were its shade! — ah, no I 'Tis but a Turkish tomb. Through sounds of foaming waterfalls, I hear a voice exclaim — My way-worn countryman, who calls 15 On distant England's name. A shot is fired — by foe or friend ? Another — 'tis to tell The mountain-peasants to descend And lead us where they dwell. 20 12 STANZAS 1:3 Oh ! who in such a night will dare To tempt the wilderness? And who 'mid thunder-peals can hear Our signal of distress ? And who that heard our shouts would rise 25 To try the dubious road? Nor rather deem from nightly cries That outlaws were abroad? Clouds burst, skies flash, — oh, dreadful hour! More fiercely pours the storm! so Yet here one thought has still the power To keep my bosom warm. While wandering through each broken path. O'er brake and craggy brow; While elements exhaust their wrath, 35 Sweet Florence, where art thou? Not on the sea, not on the sea. Thy bark hath long been gone: Oh, may the storm that pours on me, Bow down my head alone! 40 Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc, When last I pressed thy lip; And long ere now, with foaming shock. Impelled thy gallant ship. Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now 45 Hast trod the shore of Spain; 14 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS 'Twere hard if aught so fair as thou Should linger on the main. And since I now remember thee In darkness and in dread, 50 As in those hours of revelry Which mirth and music sped; Do thou, amid the fair white walls, If Cadiz yet be free, At times from out her latticed halls 55 Look o'er the dark blue sea; Then think upon Calypso's isles, Endeared by days gone by; To others gives a thousand smiles, To me a single sigh. 60 And when the admiring circle mark The paleness of thy face, A half-formed tear, a transient spark Of melancholy grace. Again thou'lt smile, and blushing shun 65 Some coxcomb's raillery; Nor own for once thou thought'st of one Who ever thinks on thee. Though smile and sigh alike are vain. When severed hearts repine, 70 My spirit flies o'er mount and main, And mourns in search of thine. ADDRESS, SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF DRURY-LANE THEATRE Saturday, October 10, 1812. In one dread night our city saw, and sighed. Bowed to the dust, the Drama's tower of pride; In one short hour beheld the blazing fane, Apollo sink, and Shakespeare cease to reign. Ye who beheld (oh! sight admired and mourned, 5 Whose radiance mocked the ruin it adorned!) Through clouds of fire the massive fragments riven. Like Israel's pillar, chase the night from heaven; Saw the long column of revolving flames Shake its red shadow o'er the startled Thames, lo While thousands, thronged around the burning dome. Shrank back appalled, and trembled for their home. As glared the volumed blaze, and ghastly shone The skies, with lightnings awful as their own. Till blackening ashes and the lonely wall 15 Usurped the Muse's realm, and marked her fall; Say — shall this new, nor less aspiring pile, Reared where once rose the mightiest in our isle, Know the same favor which the former knew, A shrine for Shakespeare — worthy him and youf 20 Yes — it shall be — the magic of that name Defies the scythe of Time, the torch of Flame; 15 16 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS On the same spot still consecrates the scene, And bids the Drama be where she hath been: This fabric's birth attests the potent spell — 25 Indulge our honest pride, and say. How well! As soars this fane to emulate the last, Oh! might we draw our omens from the past, Some hour propitious to our prayers may boast Names such as hallow still the dome we lost. 30 On Drury first your Siddons' thrilUing art O'erwhelm'd the gentlest, stormed the sternest heart. On Drury, Garrick's latest laurels grew; Here your last tears retiring Roscius drew, Sighed his last thanks, and wept his last adieu: 35 But still for living wit the wreaths may bloom, That only waste their odors o'er the tomb. Such Drury claimed and claims — nor you refuse One tribute to revive his slumbering muse; With garlands deck your own Menander's head, 40 Nor hoard your honors idly for the dead! Dear are the days which made our annals bright. Ere Garrick fled, or Brinsley ceased to write, Heirs to their labors, like all high-born heirs, Vain of our ancestry as they of theirs; 45 While thus Remembrance borrows Banquo's glass To claim the sceptred shadows as they pass, And we the mirror hold, where imaged shine Immortal names, emblazoned on our line. Pause — ere their feebler offspring you condemn, so Reflect how hard the task to rival them! ADDRESS 17 Friends of the stage I to whom both Players and Plays Must sue alike for pardon or for praise, Whose judging voice and eye alone direct The boundless power to cherish or reject; 55 If e'er frivolity has led to fame, And made us blush that you forbore to blame, If e'er the sinking stage could condescend To soothe the sickly taste it dare not mend, All past reproach may present scenes refute, 60 And censure, wisely loud, be justly mute! Oh! since your fiat stamps the Drama's laws, Forbear to mock us with misplaced applause; So pride shall doubly nerve the actor's powers. And reason's voice be echoed back by ours! 65 This greeting o'er, the ancient rule obeyed, The Drama's homage by her herald paid. Receive 02ir welcome too, whose every tone Springs from our hearts, and fain would win your own. The curtain rises — may our stage unfold 70 Scenes not unworthy Drury's days of old! Britons our judges. Nature for our guide. Still may we please — long, long may you preside. WHEN WE TWO PARTED When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted To sever for years, Pale grew thy cheek and cold, 6 Colder thy kiss; Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow — lo It felt like the warning Of what I feel now. Thy vows are all broken. And light is thy fame; I hear thy name spoken, 15 And share in its shame. They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes o'er me — Why wert thou so dear? 20 They know not I knew thee. Who knew thee too well: — Long, long shall I rue thee. Too deeply to tell. 18 WHEN WE TWO PARTED 10 In secret we met — 25 In silence I grieve, That thy heart could forget. Thy spirit deceive. If I should meet thee After long years, 30 How should I greet thee? — With silence and tears. HEBREW MELODIES SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellowed to that tender light 5 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. II One shade the more, one ray the less. Had half impaired the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress. Or softly lightens o'er her face; lo Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. Ill And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent. The smiles that win, the tints that glow, is But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent! 20 HEBREW MELODIES 21 THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT The harp the monarch minstrel swept. The King of men, the loved of Heaven, Which Music hallowed while she wept O'er tones her heart of hearts had given. Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven I 5 It softened men of iron mould, It gave them virtues not their own; No ear so dull, no soul so cold, That felt not, fired not to the tone, Till David's lyre grew mightier than his throne, lo II It told the triumphs of our King, It wafted glory to our God; It made our gladdened valleys ring, The cedars bow, the mountains nod; Its sound aspired to heaven and there abode I i5 Since then, though heard on earth no more, Devotion and her daughter Love, Still bid the bursting spirit soar To sounds that seem as from above. In dreams that day's broad light cannot remove. 20 22 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS IF THAT HIGH WORLD If that high world, which lies beyond Our own, surviving Love endears; If there the cherished heart be fond, The eye the same, except in tears — How welcome those untrodden spheres! 5 How sweet this very hour to die! To soar from earth, and find all fears Lost in thy light — Eternity! II It must be so: *tis not for self That we so tremble on the brink; lo And striving to o'erleap the gulf. Yet cling to Being's severing link. Oh! in that future let us think To hold each heart the heart that shares; With them the immortal waters drink, 15 And soul in soul grow deathless theirs! THE WILD GAZELLE The wild gazelle on Judah's hills Exulting yet may bound. And drink from all the living rills That gush on holy ground; Its airy step and glorious eye May glance in tameless transport by: HEBREW MELODIES 2.S II A step as fleet, an eye more bright, Hath Judah witnessed there. And o'er her scenes of lost deHght Inhabitants more fair. 10 The cedars wave on Lebanon, But Judah's statelier maids are gone! Ill More blest each palm that shades those plains Than Israel's scattered race; For, taking root, it there remains 15 In solitary grace: It cannot quit its place of birth. It will not live in other earth. IV But we must wander witheringly, In other lands to die; 20 And where our fathers' ashes be, Our own may never lie: Our temple hath not left a stone. And Mockery sits on Salem's throne. OH! WEEP FOR THOSE Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream, Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream; Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell; Mourn — where their God hath dwelt, the Godless dwell ! 24 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet? 6 And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet? And Judah's melody once more rejoice The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice? Ill Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast. How shall ye flee away and be at rest! lO The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave, Mankind their country — Israel but the gravel ON JORDAN'S BANKS On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray, On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray, The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep — Yet there — even there — O God! Thy thunders sleep: II There — where Thy finger scorched the tablet stone! 6 There — where Thy shadow to Thy people shone! Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire: Thyself — none living see and not expire! Ill Oh! in the lightning let Thy glance appear: Sweep from his shivered hand the oppressor's spear! lO How long by tyrants shall Thy land be trod? How long Thy temple worshipless, O God? HEBREW MELODIES 25 JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER Since our Country, our God — oh, my sire! Demand that thy daughter expire; Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow- Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now! And the voice of my mourning is o'er, 5 And the mountains behold me no more: If the hand that I love lay me low, There cannot be pain in the blow! Ill And of this, oh, my father! be sure — That the blood of thy child is as pure lo As the blessing I beg ere it flow. And the last thought that soothes me below. IV Though the virgins of Salem lament. Be the judge and the hero unbent! I have won the great battle for thee, 16 And my father and Country are free! When this blood of thy giving hath gushed. When the voice that thou lovest is hushed, Let my memory still be thy pride, And forget not I smiled as I died! 20 26 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom, On thee shall press no ponderous tomb; But on thy turf shall roses rear Their leaves, the earliest of the year; And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom: 5 II And oft by yon blue gushing stream Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head. And feed deep thought with many a dream. And lingering pause and lightly tread; Fond wretch ! as if her step disturbed the dead ! lo III Away! we know that tears are vain. That death nor heeds nor hears distress: Will this unteach us to complain? Or make one mourner weep the less? And thou — who tell'st me to forget, 15 Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet. MY SOUL IS DARK My soul is dark — oh! quickly string The harp I yet can brook to hear; And let thy gentle fingers fling Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear. HEBREW MELODIES 27 If in this heart a hope be dear, s That sound shall charm it forth again: If in these eyes there lurk a tear, 'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain. But bid the strain be wild and deep. Nor let thy notes of joy be first: 10 I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep, Or else this heavy heart will burst; For it hath been by sorrow nursed, And ached in sleepless silence long; And now 'tis doomed to know the worst, 15 And break at once — or yield to song. I SAW THEE WEEP I SAW thee weep — the big bright tear Came o'er that eye of blue; And then methought it did appear A violet dropping dew: I saw thee smile — the sapphire's blaze Beside thee ceased to shine; It could not match the living rays That filled that glance of thine. As clouds from yonder sun receive A deep and mellow dye, lo Which scarce the shade of coming eve Can banish from the sky, 28 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Those smiles unto the moodiest mind Their own pure joy impart; Their sunshine leaves a glow behind 15 That lightens o'er the heart. THY DAYS ARE DONE Thy days are done, thy fame begun; Thy country's strains record The triumphs of her chosen son, The slaughters of his sword! The deeds he did, the fields he won, 5 The freedom he restored! II Though thou art fall'n, while we are free Thou shalt not taste of death! The generous blood that flowed from thee Disdained to sink beneath: lo Within our veins its currents be. Thy spirit on our breath! Ill Thy name, our charging hosts along, Shall be the battle-word! Thy fall, the theme of choral song is From virgin voices poured! To weep would do thy glory wrong: Thou shalt not be deplored. HEBREW MELODIES 29 SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord, Heed not the corse, though a king's, in your path: Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath! II Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow, 5 Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe, Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet! Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet. Ill Farewell to others, but never we part. Heir to my royalty, son of my heart! 10 Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway. Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day I SAUL Thou whose spell can raise the dead. Bid the prophet's form appear. 'Samuel, raise thy buried head! King, behold the phantom seer!" 30 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Earth yawned; he stood the centre of a cloud: 5 Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud. Death stood all glassy in his fixed eye; His hand was withered, and his veins were dry; His foot, in bony whiteness, glittered there. Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare; lo From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame. Like caverned winds, the hollow accents came. Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak. At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke. "Why is my sleep disquieted? 15 Who is he that calls the dead? Is it thou, O King? Behold, Bloodless are these limbs, and cold: Such are mine; and such shall be Thine to-morrow, when with me: 20 Ere the coming day is done. Such shalt thou be, such thy son. Fare thee well, but for a day. Then we mix our mouldering clay. Thou, thy race, lie pale and low, 25 Pierced by shafts of many a bow; And the falchion by thy side To thy heart thy hand shall guide: Crownless, breathless, headless fall. Son and sire, the house of Saul!" 30 HEBREW MELODIES 31 "ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER" Fame, wisdom, love, and power were mine, And health and youth possessed me; My goblets blushed from every vine. And lovely forms caressed me: I sunned my heart in beauty's eyes, And felt my soul grow tender; All earth can give, or mortal prize. Was mine of regal splendor. I strive to number o'er what days Remembrance can discover, lo Which all that life or earth displays Would lure me to live over. There rose no day, there rolled no hour Of pleasure unembittered ; And not a trapping decked my powder 15 That galled not while it glittered. Ill The serpent of the field, by art And spells, is won from harming; But that which coils around the heart. Oh! who hath power of charming? 20 It will not list to wisdom's lore. Nor music's voice can lure it; But there it stings for evermore The soul that must endure it. 32 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY When coldness wraps this suffering clay. Ah! whither strays the immortal mind? It cannot die, it cannot stay, But leaves its darkened dust behind. Then, unembodied, doth it trace 5 By steps each planet's heavenly way? Or fill at once the realms of space, A thing of eyes, that all survey? II Eternal, boundless, undecayed, A thought unseen, but seeing all, lO All, all in earth, or skies displayed. Shall it survey, shall it recall: Each fainter trace that memory holds So darkly of departed years, In one broad glance the soul beholds, 15 And all that was, at once appears. Ill Before Creation peopled earth. Its eye shall roll through chaos back; And where the furthest heaven had birth. The spirit trace its rising track. 20 HEBREW MELODIES \i:\ And where the future mars or makes, Its glance dilate o'er all to be, While sun is quenched or system breaks, Fixed in its own eternity. IV Above or love, hope, hate, or fear, 25 It lives all passionless and pure: An age shall fleet like earthly year; Its years as moments shall endure. Away, away, without a wing. O'er all, through all, its thought shall fly; so A nameless and eternal thing. Forgetting w'hat it was to die. VISION OF BELSHAZZAR. The King was on his throne, The Satraps thronged the hall; A thousand bright lamps shone O'er that high festival. A thousand cups of gold, 5 In Judah deemed divine — Jehovah's vessels hold The godless Heathen's wine. II In that same hour and hall. The fingers of a hand 10 Came forth against the wall. And wrote as if on sand: 34 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS The fingers of a man; — A solitary hand Along the letters ran, 15 And traced them like a wand. Ill The monarch saw, and shook. And bade no more rejoice; All bloodless waxed his look. And tremulous his voice. 20 "Let the men of lore appear. The wisest of the earth, And expound the words of fear. Which mar our royal mirth." IV Chaldea's seers are good, 25 But here they have no skill; And the unknown letters stood Untold and awful still. And Babel's men of age Are wise and deep in lore; 30 But now they were not sage. They saw — but knew no more. A captive in the land, A stranger and a youth, He heard the King's command, 35 He saw that writing's truth. HEBREW MELODIES 35 The lamps around were bright. The prophecy in view; He read it on that night, — The morrow proved it true. 40 VI " Belshazzar's grave is made. His kingdom passed away. He, in the balance weighed. Is light and worthless clay; The shroud his robe of state, 45 His canopy the stone; The Mede is at his gate! The Persian on his throne!" SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star! Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far, That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel How like art thou to joy remembered well! So gleams the past, the light of other days. Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays; A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold, Distinct, but distant — clear — but, oh, how cold! 36 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT TO BE. Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be, I need not have wandered from far GaHlee; It was but abjuring my creed to efface The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of my race. II If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee I s If the slave only sin, thou art spotless and free I If the exile on earth is an outcast on high. Live on in thy faith, but in mine I will die. Ill j I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow, t As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know; lo In His hand is my heart and my hope — and in thine The land and the life which for Him I resign. HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE. I Oh, Mariamne! now for thee The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding; Revenge is lost in agony, And wild remorse to rage succeeding. Oh, Mariamne! where art thou? Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading: HEBREW MELODIES 37 Ah! couldst thou — thou wouldst pardon now, Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding. II And is she dead ? — and did they dare Obey my frenzy's jealous raving? lo My wrath but doomed my own despair: The sword that smote her's o'er me waving. — But thou art cold, my murdered love! And this dark heart is vainly craving For her who soars alone above, 15 And leaves my soul unworthy saving. Ill She's gone, who shared my diadem; She sunk, with her my joys entombing; I swept that flower from Judah's stem Whose leaves for me alone are blooming; 20 And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell. This bosom's desolation dooming; And I have earned those tortures well. Which unconsumed are still consuming! ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome, I beheld thee, O Sion, when rendered to Rome: 'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall Flashed back on the last glance I gave to thy wall. 38 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS II I looked for thy temple, I looked for my home, 5 And forgot for a moment my bondage to come; I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane, And the fast-fettered hands that made vengeance in vain. Ill On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed; lo While I stood on the height and beheld the decline Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine. IV And now on that mountain I stood on that day. But I marked not the twilight beam melting away; Oh I would that the lightning had glared in its stead, 15 And the thunder-bolt burst on the conqueror's head ! But the gods of the Pagan shall never profane The shrine where Jehovah disdained not to reign; And scattered and scorned as thy people may be. Our worship, O Father! is only for Thee. 20 BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT We sate down and wept by the waters Of Babel, and thought of the day When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters, HEBREW MEEODIES 39 Made Salem's hi When each conception was a heavenly finest — A ray of immortality — and stood, Starlike, aroimd, until they gathered to a (jjod! CLXIII And if it be Prometheus stole from heaven The fire which we endure, it was repaid 1460 By him to whom the energy was given Wiiich this poetic marble hath arrayed With an eternal glory — which, if made By human hands, is not of human thought; And Time himself hath hallowed it, nor laid 146") One ringlet in the dust — nor hath it caught A tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which 'twas wrought. CLXIV But where is he, the Pilgrim of my song, The being who upheld it through the past? 104 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Methinks he cometh late and tarries long. 1470 He is no more — these breathings are his last; His wanderings done, his visions ebbing fast, And he himself as nothing: — if he was Aught but a fantasy, and could be classed With forms which live and suffer — let that pass — 1475 His shadow fades away into Destruction's mass, CLXV Which gathers shadow, substance, life, and all That we inherit in its mortal shroud. And spreads the dim and universal pall Through which all things grow phantoms; and the cloud 1480 Between us sinks and all which ever glowed, Till Glory's self is twilight, and displays A melancholy halo scarce allowed To hover on the verge of darkness; rays Sadder than saddest night, for they distract the gaze, 1485 CLXVI And send us prying into the abyss. To gather what we shall be when the frame Shall be resolved to something less than this Its wretched essence; and to dream of fame. And wipe the dust from off the idle name 1490 We never more shall hear, — but never more. Oh, happier thought! can we be made the same: It is enough in sooth that once we bore These fardels of the heart — the heart whose sweat was gore. CHILDE HAROLD 10.5 CLXVII Hark! forth from the abyss a voice proceeds, 1495 A long low distant murmur of dread sound, Such as arises when a nation bleeds With some deep and immedicable wound; Through storm and darkness yawns the rending ground, The gulf is thick with phantoms, but the chief 1^)00 Seems royal still, though with her head discrowned, And pale, but lovely, with maternal grief She clasps a babe, to whom her breast yields no relief. CLXVIII Scion of chiefs and monarchs, where art thou? Fond hope of many nations, art thou dead ? 1505 Could not the grave forget thee, and lay low Some less majestic, less beloved head? In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled, The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy. Death hushed that pang for ever; with thee fled is 10 The present happiness and promised joy Which filled the imperial isles so full it seemed to cloy. CLXIX Peasants bring forth in safety. — Can it be, O thou that wert so happy, so adored! Those who weep not for kings shall weep for thee, i5i5 And Freedom's heart, grown heavy, cease to hoard. Her many griefs for One; for she had poured Her orisons for thee, and o'er thy head Beheld her Iris. — Thou, too, lonely lord. And desolate consort — vainly wert thou wed! 1620 The husband of a year! the father of the dead! 106 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS CLXX Of sackcloth was thy wedding garment made; Thy bridal's fruit is ashes; in the dust The fair-haired Daughter of the Isles is laid, The love of millions! How we did entrust 1525 Futurity to her! and, though it must Darken above our bones, yet fondly deemed Our children should obey her child, and blessed Her and her hoped-for seed, whose promise seemed Like star to shepherd's eyes ; 'twas but a meteor beamed. i530 CLXXI Woe unto us, not her; for she sleeps well: The fickle reek of popular breath, the tongue Of hollow counsel, the false oracle. Which from the birth of monarchy hath rung Its knell in princely ears, till the o'erstrung 1535 Nations have armed in madness, the strange fate Which tumbles mightiest sovereigns, and hath flung Against their blind omnipotence a weight Within the opposing scale, which crushes soon or late, — CLXXII These might have been her destiny; but no, 1540 Our hearts deny it: and so young, so fair. Good without effort, great without a foe; But now a bride and mother — and now there! How many ties did that stern moment tear! From thy Sire's to his humblest subject's breast 1545 Is linked the electric chain of that despair. Whose shock was an earthquake's, and oppressed The land which loved thee so that none could love thee best. CHILDE HAROLD 107 CLXXIII Lo, Nemil navelled in the woody hills So far, that the uprootino: wind which tears i55o The oak from his foundation, and which spills The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears Its foam against the skies, reluctant spares The oval mirror of thy glassy lake; And, calm as cherished hate, its surface wears 1555 A deep cold settled aspect nought can shake. All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake. CLXXIV And near Albano's scarce divided waves Shine from a sister valley; — and afar The Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves 1560 The Latian coast where sprung the Epic war, ** Arms and the Man," whose re-ascending star Rose o'er an empire; — but beneath thy right Tully reposed from Rome; — and where yon bar Of girdling mountains intercepts the sight, 1565 The Sabine farm was tilled, the weary bard's delight. CLXXV But I forget. — My Pilgrim's shrine is won. And he and I must part, — so let it be, — His task and mine alike are nearly done; Yet once more let us look upon the sea: 1570 The midland ocean breaks on him and me. And from the Alban Mount we now^ behold Our friend of youth, that ocean, which when we Beheld it last by Calpe's rock unfold Those waves, we followed on till the dark Euxine rolled i"75 108 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS CLXXVI Upon the blue Symplegades : long years — Long, though not very many — since have done Their work on both; some suffering and some tears Have left us nearly where we had begun: Yet not in vain our mortal race hath run, 1580 We have had our reward — and it is here, — That we can yet feel gladdened by the sun. And reap from earth, sea, joy almost as dear As if there were no man to trouble what is clear. CLXXVII Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place, 1585 With one fair Spirit for my minister. That I might all forget the humble race. And, hating no one, love but only her! Ye Elements! — in whose ennobling stir I feel myself exalted — can ye not 1590 Accord me such a being? Do I err In deeming such inhabit many a spot? Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot. CLXXVIIl There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 1595 There is society where none intrudes. By the deep Sea, and music in its roar; I love not Man the less, but Nature more. From these our interviews, in which I steal From all I may be, or have been before, leoo To mingle with the Universe, and feel What I can ne'er express, yet can not all conceal. CIIILDE HAROLD 109 CLXXIX Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean — roll! Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain; Man marks the earth with ruin — his control I605 Stops with the shore; — upon the watery plain The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain A shadow of man's ravage, save his own. When for a moment, like a drop of rain, He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, I610 Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined and unknown. CLXXX His steps are not upon thy paths, — thy fields Are not a spoil for him, — thou dost arise And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields For earth's destruction thou dost all despise, I615 Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies. And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray, And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies His petty hope in some near port or bay, And dashest him again to earth — there let him lay. I620 CLXXXI The armaments which thunderstrike the walls Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake. And monarchs tremble in their capitals. The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make Their clay creator the vain title take I625 Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war; These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake. They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgar. no BYRON'S SELECT POEMS CLXXXII Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee — 1630 Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they ? Thy waters washed them power while they were free, And many a tyrant since: their shores obey The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay Has dried up realms to deserts: — not so thou, 1635 Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play — Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow — Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now. CLXXXIII Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Glasses itself in tempests; in all time, i64o Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm. Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime Dark-heaving; — boundless, endless, and sublime — The image of Eternity — the throne Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime 1645 The monsters of the deep are made; each zone Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone. CLXXXIV And I have loved thee. Ocean! and my joy Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy 1650 I wantoned with thy breakers — they to me Were a delight; and if the freshening sea Made them a terror — 'twas a pleasing fear, For I was as it were a child of thee, And trusted to thy billows far and near, 1655 And laid my hand upon thy mane — as I do here. CHILDE HAROLD 111 CLXXXV My task is done — my son^ hath ceased — my tliemc Has died into an echo; it is fit The spell should break of this protracted dream. The torch shall be extinguished which hatli lit iggo My midnight lam}), and what is writ, is writ — Would it were worthier! but I am not now That which I have been — and my visions flit Ivcss palpably before me — and the glow Which in my spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low. iggs CLXXXVI Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been — A sound which makes us linger; — yet, — farewell! Ye, who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene Which is his last, if in your memories dwell A thought which once w^as his, if on ye swell igto A single recollection, not in vain He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell; Farewell! with him alone may rest the pain. If such there were — with you the moral of his strain. THE PRISONER OF CHILLON SONNET ON CHILLON Eternal Spirit of the chainless Mind! Brightest in dungeons, Liberty! thou art, For there thy habitation is the heart — The heart which love of thee alone can bind; And when thy sons to fetters are consigned — 5 To fetters, and the damp vault's dayless gloom, Their country conquers with their martyrdom, And Freedom's fame finds wings on every wind. Chillon! thy prison is a holy place. And thy sad floor an altar — for 'twas trod, lo Until his very steps have left a trace Worn, as if thy cold pavement were a sod, By Bonnivard! — May none those marks efface! For they appeal from tyranny to God. My hair is gray, but not with years. Nor grew it white In a single night, As men's have grown from sudden fears: My limbs are bowed, though not with toil. But rusted with a vile repose, For they have been a dungeon's spoil, And mine has been the fate of those 112 THE PRISONER OF ( IIILLON li:; To whom the man. From out his liawrsack and can, Preparrd and spread his slender stock; And to the monarch and liis men The whoh^ or portion offered then, 90 With far l(\ss of incjuietude Than courtiers at a banquet would. And Charles of this his slender share With smiles partook a moment there. To force of cheer a greater show, 95 And seem above both wounds and woe; — And then lie said : — " Of all our band. Though firm of heart and strong of hand. In skirmish, march, or forage, none Can less have said or more have done 100 Than thee, Mazeppa! On the earth So fit a pair had never birth. Since Alexander's days till now. As thy Bucephalus and thou: All Scythia's fame to thine should yield 105 For pricking on o'er flood and field." Mazeppa answered, — "111 betide The school wherein I learned to ride!" Quoth Charles,—** Old Hetman, wherefore so. Since thou hast learned the art so well?" no Mazeppa said, — " *Twere long to tell ; And we have many a league to go. With every now and then a blow. And ten to one at least the foe. Before oui- steeds may graze at ease, 115 Beyond the swift Borysthenes: And, sire, your limbs have need of rest. 130 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS And I will be the sentinel Of this your troop." — " But I request," Said Sweden's monarch, "thou wilt tell 120 This tale of thine, and I may reap, Perchance, from this the boon of sleep; For at this moment from my eyes The hope of present slumber flies." "Well, sire, with such a hope I'll track 125 My seventy years of memory back: I think 'twas in my twentieth spring, — , Aye, 'twas, — when Casimir was king — John Casimir, — I was his page Six summers in my earlier age: 130 A learned monarch, faith! was he. And most unlike your Majesty; He made no wars, and did not gain New realms to lose them back again; And (save debates in Warsaw's diet) 135 He reigned in most unseemly quiet: Not that he had no cares to vex; He loved the muses and the sex; And sometimes these so froward are, They made him wish himself at war; 140 But soon his wrath being o'er, he took Another mistress — or new book: And then he gave prodigious fetes — All Warsaw gathered round his gates To gaze upon his splendid court, 145 And dames, and chiefs, or princely port; He was the Polish Solomon, So sung his poets, all but one, MAZEPPA ISl Who, being unpensioiud, iiiiuk' n satire, And boasted that he could not flatter. 150 It was a court of jousts and mimes, Where every courtier tried at rhymes; P^ven I for once prochiced some verses, And signed my o(h\s " Despairing Thyrsis." There was a certain Palatine, 155 A count of far and higli descent, llich as a salt or silver mine; And he was proud, ye may divine. As if from lieaven he h.ad been sent; He had such wealth in blood and ore I60 As few could match beneath the throne; And he would gaze upon his store. And o'er his pedigree would pore. Until by some confusion led. Which almost looked like want of head, 165 He thought their merits w^ere his own. His wife was not of his opinion — His junior she by thirty years — Grew daily tired of his dominion; And, after wishes, hopes, and fears, 170 To virtue a few farewell tears, A restless dream or two — some glances, At Warsaw's youth — some songs, and dances. Awaited but the usual chances. Those happy accidents which render 175 The coldest dames so very tender. To deck her Count w^ith tides given, 'Tis said, as passports into heaven; But, strange to say, they rarely boast Of these, who have deserved them most. 18O 132 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS "I was a goodly stripling then: At seventy years I so may say. That there were few, or boys or men, Who, in my dawning time of day. Of vassal or of knight's degree, 185 Could vie in vanities with me; For I had strength — youth — gaiety, A port, not like to this ye see. But smooth, as all is rugged now; For time, and care, and war have ploughed 190 My very soul from out my brow; And thus I should be disavowed By all my kind and kin, could they Compare my day and yesterday; This change was wrought, too, long ere age 195 Had ta'en my features for his page: With years, ye know, have not declined My strength — my courage — or my mind. Or at this hour I should not be Telling old tales beneath a tree, 200 With starless skies my canopy. But let me on: Theresa's form — Methinks it glides before me now. Between me and yon chestnut's bough. The memory is so quick and warm; 205 And yet I find no words to tell The shape of her I loved so well: She had the Asiatic eye. Such as our Turkish neighborhood Hath mingled with our Polish blood, 210 MAZEPPA 133 Dark as above us is the sky; But through it stole a tender liglit, Like the first moonrise of midnight; Large, dark, and swimming in the stream, Whieh seemed to melt to its own beam; 2i5 All love, half languor, and half fire. Like saints that at the stake expire, And lift their raptured looks on high. As though it were a joy to die. A brow like a midsummer lake, 220 Transparent with the sun therein. When waves no murmur dare to make, And heaven beholds her face within. A cheek and Vip — but why proceed? I loved her then — I love her still ; 225 And such as I am, love indeed In fierce extremes — in good and ilL But still we love even in our rage. And haunted to our very age With the vain shadow of the past, 230 As is Mazeppa to the last. VI "We met — we gazed — I saw, and sighed; She did not speak, and yet replied; There are ten thousand tones and signs We hear and see, but none defines — 235 Involuntary sparks of thought, Which strike from out the heart o'erwrought. And from a strange intelligence. Alike mysterious and intense. Which link the burning chain that binds, 240 134 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Without their will, young hearts and minds; Conveying, as the electric wire, We know not how, the absorbing fire. — I saw, and sighed — in silence wept. And still reluctant distance kept, 245 Until I was made known to her. And we might then and there confer Without suspicion — then, even then, I longed, and was resolved to speak; But on my lips they died again, 250 The accents tremulous and weak. Until one hour. — ^There is a game, A frivolous and foolish play. Wherewith we while away the day; It is — I have forgot the name — 255 And we to this, it seems, were set. By some strange chance, which I forget: I recked not if I won or lost. It was enough for me to be So near to hear, and oh! to see 260 The being whom I loved the most. I watched her as a sentinel, (May ours this dark night watch as well!) Until I saw, and thus it was, That she was pensive, nor perceived 265 Her occupation, nor was grieved Nor glad to lose or gain; but still Played on for hours, as if her will Yet bound her to the place, though not That hers might be the winning lot. 270 Then through my brain the thought did pass. Even as a flash of lightning there, MAZKrr.V 1:5.5 'JMial lluTc was sonictliln^ in licr air Which would not doom ine to despair; And on the thought my words broke forth, 275 All incolRTCMit as they were; Tlu'ir i'lo([uenc'e was little wortli, But yet she listened — 'tis enough — Who listens once will listen twice; Her heart, he sure, is not of ice — 280 And one refusal no rebuff. VII "I loved, and was beloved again — They tell me, sire, you never knew Those gentle frailties; if 'tis true, I shorten all my joy or pain ; 285 To you 'twould seem absurd as vain; But all men are not born to reign. Or o'er their passions, or as you ThiLs o'er themselves and nations too. I am — or rather \cas — a prince, 290 A chief of thousands, and could lead Them on where each would foremost bleed; But could not o'er myself evince The like control. — But to resume: I loved, and was beloved again; 295 In sooth it is a happy doom. But yet where happiest ends in pain. — We met in secret, and the hour Which led me to that lady's bower Was fiery Expectation's dower. 300 My days and nights were nothing — all Except that hour which doth recall LS6 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS In the long lapse from youth to age. No other like itself: I'd give The Ukraine back again to live 305 It o'er once more, and be a page, The happy page, who was the lord Of one soft heart, and his own sword, And had no other gem nor wealth. Save nature's gift of youth and health. — 3io We met in secret — doubly sweet, Some say, they find it so to meet; I know not that — I would have given My life but to have called her mine In the full view of earth and heaven; 3i5 For I did oft and long repine That we could only meet by stealth. VIII "For lovers there are many eyes. And such there were on us; the devil On such occasions should be civil — 320 The devil! — I'm loth to do him wrong; It might be some untoward saint. Who would not be at rest too long. But to his pious bile give vent — But one fair night, some lurking spies 325 Surprised and seized us both. The Count was something more than wroth — I was unarmed; but if in steel. All cap-a-pie from head to heel, What 'gainst their numbers could I do? 33o 'Twas near his castle, far away 345 MAZEPPA 1-^ From city or from succor near. And almost on the break of day; I did not think to see another, My moments seemed reduced to few; 335 And with one prayer to Mary Mother, And, it may be, a saint or two. As I resigned me to my fate. They led me to the castle gate: Theresa's doom I never knew, 340 Our lot was henceforth separate. An angry man, ye may opine. Was he, the proud Count Palatine; And he had reason good to be. But he was most enraged lest such An accident should chance to touch Upon his future pedigree; Nor less amazed that such a blot His noble 'scutcheon should have got. While he was highest of his line; Because unto himself he seemed The first of men, nor less he deemed In others' eyes, and most in mine. 'Sdeath! with a pa^e— perchance a king Had reconciled him to the thing; 355 But with a stripling of a page— I felt— but cannot paint his rage. IX " ' Bring forth the horse ! ' The horse was brought ; In truth he was a noble steed, A Tartar of the Ukraine breed, 360 Who looked as though the speed of thought 350 138 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Were in his limbs; but he was wild. Wild as the wild deer, and untaught. With spur and bridle undefiled — 'Twas but a day he had been caught; 365 And snorting, with erected mane. And struggling fiercely, but in vain. In the full foam of wrath and dread To me the desert-born was led: They bound me on, that menial throng, 370 Upon his back with many a thong; Then loosed him with a sudden lash — Away! — away! — and on we dash! — Torrents less rapid and less rash. "Away! — away! — my breath was gone, 375 I saw not where he hurried on: 'Twas scarcely yet the break of day. And on he foamed — away! — away! — The last of human sounds which rose. As I was darted from my foes, 380 Was the wild shout of savage laughter. Which on the wind came roaring after A moment from that rabble rout: With sudden wrath I wrenched my head. And snapped the cord which to the mane 385 Had bound my neck in lieu of rein, And, writhing half my form about, Howled back my curse; but 'midst the tread. The thunder of my courser's speed. Perchance they did not hear nor heed: 390 MAZEPPA K5!) It vexes me — for I would fain Have paid their insult back again. I paid it well in after days: There is not of that castle gate, Its drawbridge and portcullis weight, 395 Stone, bar, moat, bridge, or barrier left; Nor of its fields a blade of grass. Save what grows on a ridge of wall. Where stood the hearth-stone of the hall; And a many time ye there might pass, 4oo Nor dream that ere that fortress was. I saw its turrets in a blaze. Their crackling batUements all cleft. And the hot lead pour down like rain From off the scorched and blackening roof, 405 Whose thickness was not vengeance-proof. They litde thought that day of pain, When launched, as on the lightning's flash. They bade me to destruction dash. That one day I should come again, 4io With twice five thousand horse, to thank The Count for his uncourteous ride. They played me then a bitter prank. When, with the wild horse for my guide. They bound me to his foaming flank: 4i5 At length I played them one as frank—- For time at last sets all things even — And if we do but watch the hour. There never yet was human power Which could evade, if unforgiven, 420 The patient search and vigil long Of him who treasures up a wrong. 140 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XI "Away! — away! — my steed and I, Upon the pinions of the wind! All human dwellings left behind, 425 We sped like meteors through the sky, When with its crackling sound the night Is chequered with the northern light. Town — village — none were on our track, But a wild plain of far extent, 430 And bounded by a forest black; And, save the scarce, seen battlement On distant heights of some strong hold, Against the Tartars built of old. No trace of man. The year before 435 A Turkish army had marched o'er; And where the Spahi's hoof hath trod. The verdure flies the bloody sod: The sky was dull, and dim, and gray. And a low breeze crept moaning by — 440 I could have answered with a sigh — But fast we fled, — away! — away! — And I could neither sigh nor pray; And my cold sweat-drops fell like rain Upon the courser's bristling mane; 445 But, snorting still with rage and fear. He flew upon his far career: At times I almost thought, indeed. He must have slackened in his speed; But no — my bound and slender frame 450 Was nothing to his angry might. And merely like a spur became: MAZEPPA 141 Each motion which I made to free My swoln limbs from their agony Increased his fury and affright: 455 I tried my voice, — 'twas faint and low — But yet he swerved as from a blow; And, starting to each accent, sprang As from a sudden trumpet's clang: Meantime my cords were wet with gore, 4go Which, oozing through my limbs, ran o'er. And in my tongue the thirst became A something fierier than flame. XII "We neared the wild wood — 'twas so wide, I saw no bounds on either side: 465 'Twas studded with old sturdy trees. That bent not to the roughest breeze Which howls down from Siberia's waste. And strips the forest in its haste, — But these were few and far between, 470 Set thick with shrubs more young and green. Luxuriant with their annual leaves Ere strewn by those autumnal eves That nip the forest's foliage dead. Discolored with a lifeless red, 475 Which stands thereon, like stiffened gore Upon the slain w4ien battle's o'er. And some long winter's night hath shed Its frosts o'er every tombless head — So cold and stark — the raven's beak 480 May peck unpierced each frozen cheek: 'Twas a wild waste of underwood. 142 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS And here and there a chestnut stood, The strong oak, and the hardy pine; But far apart — and well it were, 485 Or else a different lot were mine — The boughs gave way, and did not tear My limbs; and I found strength to bear My wounds, already scarred with cold; My bonds forbade to loose my hold. 490 We rustled through the leaves like wind, — Left shrubs, and trees, and wolves behind; By night I heard them on the track. Their troop came hard upon our back. With their long gallop, which can tire 495 The hound's deep hate and hunter's fire: Where'er we flew they followed on. Nor left us with the morning sun; Behind I saw them, scarce a rood. At day-break winding through the wood, 500 And through the night had heard their feet Their stealing, rustling step repeat. Oh! how I wished for spear or sword. At least to die amidst the horde. And perish — if it must be so — 505 At bay, destroying many a foe! When first my courser's race begun, I wished the goal already won; But now I doubted strength and speed: Vain doubt! his swift and savage breed 5io Had nerved him like the mountain roe — Nor faster falls the blinding snow Which whelms the peasant near the door Whose threshold he shall cross no more. MAZEPPA 143 Bewildered with the dazzHng blast, 515 Than through the forest-paths he passed — Un tired, untamed, and worse than wild — All furious as a favored child Balked of its w^ish; or — fiercer still — A woman piqued — who has her will! 520 XIII "The wood was passed; 'twas more than noon. But chill the air, although in June; Or it might be my veins ran cold — Prolonged endurance tames the bold; And I was not then what I seem, 525 But headlong as a \vintry stream. And wore my feelings out before I well could count their causes o'er: And what with fury, fear, and wrath. The tortures which beset my path — 530 Cold — hunger — sorrow — shame — distress, — Thus bound in nature's nakedness; Sprung from a race whose rising blood. When stirred beyond its calmer mood. And trodden hard upon, is like 535 The rattlesnake's, in act to strike — What marvel if this w^orn-out trunk Beneath its woes a moment sunk? The earth gave way, the skies rolled round, I seemed to sink upon the ground, 640 But erred — for I was fastly bound. My heart turned sick, my brain grew sore. And throbbed awhile, then beat no more: The skies spun like a mighty w^heel; 144 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS I saw the trees like drunkards reel, 545 And a slight flash sprang o'er my eyes. Which saw no farther: he who dies Can die no more than then I died. O'ertortured by that ghastly ride, I felt the blackness come and go, 550 And strove to wake; but could not make My senses climb up from below: I felt as on a plank at sea, When all the waves that dash o'er thee At the same time upheave and whelm, 555 And hurl thee towards a desert realm. My undulating life was as The fancied lights that flitting pass Our shut eyes in deep midnight, when Fever begins upon the brain; 560 But soon it passed, with little pain. But a confusion worse than such: I own that I should deem it much. Dying, to feel the same again; And yet I do suppose we must 565 Feel far more ere we turn to dust! No matter! I have bared my brow Full in Death's face — before — and now. XIV " My thoughts came back. Where was I ? Cold, And numb, and giddy: pulse by pulse 570 Life reassumed its lingering hold. And throb by throb, — till grown a pang Which for a moment could convulse. My blood reflowed, though thick and chill; MAZEPPA 14.5 My car with uncouth noises rang, 575 My heart began once more to thrill; My sight returned, though dim, alas! And thickened, as it were with glass. Methought the dash of waves was nigh; There was a gleam, too, of the sky, 580 Studded with stars; — it is no dream; The wild horse swims the wilder stream! The bright, broad river's gushing tide Sweeps, winding onward, far and wide. And we are half way, struggling o'er 585 To yon unknown and silent shore. The waters broke my hollow trance. And with a temporary strength My stiffened limbs were rebaptized. My courser's broad breast proudly braves, 590 And dashes off the ascending waves. And onward we advance! We reach the slippery shore at length, A haven I but little prized, For all behind was dark and drear, 595 And all before was night and fear. How many hours of night or day In those suspended pangs I lay, I could not tell; I scarcely knew If this were human breath I drew. 600 XV "With glossy skin, and dripping mane, And reeling limbs, and reeking flank. The wild steed's sinewy nerves still strain Up the repelling bank. 146 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS We gain the top; a boundless plain 605 Spread through the shadow of the night. And onward, onward, onward — seems, Like precipices in our dreams. To stretch beyond the sight; And here and there a speck of white, 6io Or scattered spot of dusky green, In masses broke into the light. As rose the moon upon my right: But nought distinctly seen In the dim waste would indicate 6i5 The omen of a cottage gate; No twinkling taper from afar Stood like a hospitable star; Not even an ignis-fatuus rose To make him merry with my woes: 620 That very cheat had cheered me then! Although detected, welcome still, Reminding me, through every ill. Of the abodes of men. XVI "Onward we went — but slack and slow; 625 His savage force at length o'erspent. The drooping courser, faint and low. All feebly foaming went: A sickly infant had had power To guide him forward in that hour! 630 But, useless all to me, His new-born tameness nought availed— My limbs were bound; my force had failed. Perchance, had they been free. MAZEPPA 1^^ With feeble effort still I tried 635 To rend the bonds so starkly tied. But still it was in vain ; My limbs were only wrung the more. And soon the idle strife gave o'er. Which but prolonged their pain: C4() The dizzy race seemed almost done. Although no goal w^as nearly won: Some streaks announced the coming sun- How slow, alas! he came! Methought that mist of dawning gray 645 Would never dapple into day; How heavily it rolled away! Before the eastern flame Rose crimson, and deposed the stars, And called the radiance from their cars, 650 And filled the earth, from his deep throne, With lonely lustre, all his own. XVII "Up rose the sun; the mists were curled Back from the solitary world Which lay around— behind— before, 655 What booted it to traverse o'er Plain— forest— river? Man nor brute. Nor dint of hoof, nor print of foot. Lay in the wild luxuriant soil — No sign of travel, none of toil — 660 The very air was mute: And not an insect's shrill small horn, Nor matin bird's new voice, was borne From herb nor thicket. Many a werst, 148 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Panting as if his heart would burst, 665 The weary brute still staggered on; And still we were — or seemed — alone: At length, while reeling on our way, Methought I heard a courser neigh. From out yon tuft of blackening firs. 670 Is it the wind those branches stirs? No, no! from out the forest prance A trampling troop; I see them come! In one vast squadron they advance! I strove to cry — my lips were dumb. 675 The steeds rush on in plunging pride; But where are they the reins to guide? A thousand horse, and none to ride! With flowing tail, and flying mane. Wide nostrils, never stretched by pain, 680 Mouths bloodless to the bit or rein, And feet that iron never shod. And flanks unscarred by spur or rod, A thousand horse, the wild, the free. Like waves that follow o'er the sea, 685 Came thickly thundering on, As if our faint approach to meet! The sight re-nerved my courser's feet, A moment staggering, feebly fleet, A moment, with a faint low neigh, 690 He answered, and then fell! With gasps and glazing eyes he lay. And reeking limbs immovable, His first and last career is done! On came the troop — they saw him stoop, 695 They saw me strangely bound along MAZEPPA 149 His back with many a bloody thong. They stop — they start — they snuff the air, Gallop a moment here and there, Approach, retire, wheel round and round, 700 Then plunging back with sudden bound, Headed by one black mighty steed. Who seemed the patriarch of his breed, Without a single speck or hair Of white upon his shaggy hide; 705 They snort — they foam — neigh — swerve aside. And backward to the forest fly, By instinct, from a human eye. They left me there to my despair, Linked to the dead and stiffening wretch, 7io Whose lifeless limbs beneath me stretch. Relieved from that unwonted weight. From whence I could not extricate Nor him nor me — and there we lay, The dying on the dead! 715 I little deemed another day Would see my houseless, helpless head. "And there from morn till twilight bound, I felt the heavy hours toil round. With just enough of life to see 720 My last of suns go down on me. In hopeless certainty of mind, That makes us feel at length resigned To that which our foreboding years Present the worst and last of fears: 725 Inevitable — even a boon. Nor more unkind for coming soon, 150 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS Yet shunned and dreaded with such care. As if it only were a snare That prudence might escape: 730 At times both wished for and implored. At times sought with self-pointed sword. Yet still a dark and hideous close To even intolerable woes. And welcome in no shape. 735 And, strange to say, the sons of pleasure. They who have revelled beyond measure In beauty, wassail, wine, and treasure. Die calm, or calmer, oft than he Whose heritage was misery; 740 For he who hath in turn run through All that was beautiful and new, Hath nought to hope, and nought to leave. And, save the future (which is viewed Not quite as men are base or good, 745 But as their nerves may be endued,) With nought perhaps to grieve: The wretch still hopes his woes must end. And Death, whom he should deem his friend, Appears, to his distempered eyes, 750 Arrived to rob him of his prize. The tree of his new Paradise. To-morrow would have given him all. Repaid his pangs, repaired his fall; To-morrow would have been the first 755 Of days no more deplored or curst. But bright, and long, and beckoning years. Seen dazzling through the mist of tears. Guerdon of many a painful hour; MAZEPPA \rA To-morrow would have given him power 70o To rule — to shine — to smite — to save — And must it dawn upon his grave? XVIII "The sun was sinking — still I lay Chained to the chill and stiffening steed! I thought to mingle there our clay; 705 And my dim eyes of death had need, No hope arose of being freed. I cast my last looks up the sky, And there between me and the sun I saw the expecting raven fly, tto Who scarce would wait till both should die. Ere his repast begun; He flew, and perched, then flew once more. And each time nearer than before; I saw his wing through twilight flit, 775 And once so near me he aht I could have smote, but lacked the strength; But the slight motion of my hand. And feeble scratching of the sand. The exerted throat's faint struggling noise, 780 Which scarcely could be called a voice, Together scared him off at length. I know no more — my latest dream Is something of a lovely star Which fixed my dull eyes from afar, 785 And went and came with wandering beam. And of the cold, dull, swimming, dense Sensation of recurring sense. And then subsiding back to death. 152 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS And then again a little breath, 790 A little thrill — a short suspense. An icy sickness curdling o'er My heart, and sparks that crossed my brain — A gasp — a throb — a start of pain, A sigh, and nothing more. 795 XIX "I woke — ^Where was I? — Do I see A human face look down on me? And doth a roof above me close? Do these limbs on a couch repose? Is this a chamber where I lie? soo And is it mortal, yon bright eye, That watches me with gentle glance? I close my own again once more. As doubtful that the former trance Could not as yet be o'er. 805 A slender girl, long-haired, and tall. Sate watching by the cottage wall. The sparkle of her eye I caught. Even with my first return of thought; For ever and anon she threw 8io A prying, pitying glance on me With her black eyes so wild and free; I gazed, and gazed, until I knew No vision it could be, — But that I lived, arid was released sis From adding to the vulture's feast: And when the Cossack maid beheld My heavy eyes at length unsealed. She smiled — and I essayed to speak. MAZEPPA ir,:^ But failed — and she approached, and made 82o With hp and finger signs that said, I must not strive as yat to break The silence, till my strength should he Enough to leave my accents free; And then her hand on mine she laid, 82r, And smoothed the pillow for my head. And stole along on tiptoe tread. And gently oped the door, and spake In whispers — ne'er was voice so sweet! Even music followed her light feet. 83o But those she called were not awake, And she went forth; but, ere she passed. Another look on me she cast, Another sign she made, to say. That I had nought to fear, that all 835 Were near, at my command or call. And she would not delay Her due return: — while she was gone, Methought I felt too much alone. XX **She came with mother and with sire — 840 What need of more? — I will not tire With long recital of the rest Since I became the Cossack's guest. They found me senseless on the plain. They bore me to the nearest hut, 845 They brought me into life again — Me — one day o'er their realm to reign! Thus the vain fool who strove to glut His rage, refining on my pain. 154 BYRON^S SELECT POEMS Sent me forth to the wilderness, 850 Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone. To pass the desert to a throne, — What mortal his own doom may guess? Let none despond, let none despair! To-morrow the Borysthenes 855 May see our coursers graze at ease Upon his Turkish bank, — and never Had I such welcome for a river As I shall yield when safely there. Comrades, good-night!" — The Hetman threw 86o His length beneath the oak-tree shade, With leafy couch already made — A bed nor comfortless nor new To him, who took his rest whene'er The hour arrived, no matter where: 865 His eyes the hastening slumbers steep. And if ye marvel Charles forgot To thank his tale, he wondered not, — The king had been an hour asleep! THE SHIPWRECK FROM THE SECOND CANTO OF "DON JUAN" STANZAS XXVI-LXXII (l-XLVIl); LXXXIV-CX (XLVIII-LXXIV) 'TwAS not without some reason, for the wind Increased at night, until it blew a gale; And though Hwas not much to a naval mind. Some landsmen would have looked a little pale. For sailors are, in fact, a different kind; At sunset they began to take in sail. For the sky showed it would come on to blow. And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so. II At one o'clock, the wind with sudden shift Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea, Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift. Started the stern-post, also shattered the Whole of her stern frame, and, ere she could lift Herself from out her present jeopardy. The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound The pumps, and there were four feet water found. 155 156 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS III One gang of people Instantly was put Upon the pumps, and the remaining set To get up part of the cargo, and what not; But they could not come at the leak as yet. 20 At last they did get at it really, but Still their salvation was an even bet: The water rushed through in a way quite puzzling, While they thrust sheets, shirts, jackets, bales of muslin, IV Into the opening; but all such ingredients 25 Would have been vain, and they must have gone down. Despite of all their efforts and expedients, But for the pumps: I'm glad to make them known To all the brother tars who may have need hence. For fifty tons of water were upthrown 30 By them per hour, and they had all been undone, But for the maker, Mr. Mann, of London. As day advanced the weather seemed to abate. And then the leak they reckoned to reduce, And keep the ship afloat, though three feet yet 35 Kept two hand and one chain-pump still in use. The wind blew fresh again: as it grew late A squall came on, and while some guns broke loose, A gust — which all descriptive power transcends — Laid with one blast the ship on her beam-ends. 40 THE SHIPWRECK 157 VI There she lay, motionless, and seemed upset; The water left the hold, and washed the decks. And made a scene men do not soon forget: For they remember battles, fires, and wrecks. Or any other thing that brings regret, 46 Or breaks their hopes, or hearts, or heads, or necks: Thus drownings are much talked of by the divers. And swimmers, who may chance to be survivors. VII Immediately the masts were cut away. Both main and mizzen: first the mizzen went, 50 The main-mast followed; but the ship still lay Like a mere log and bafl^led our intent. Foremast and bowsprit were cut down, and they Eased her at last (although we never meant To part with all till every hope was blighted), 55 And then with violence the old ship righted. VIII It may be easily supposed, while this Was going on, some people were unquiet. That passengers would find it much amiss To lose their lives as well as spoil their diet; 60 That even the able seaman, deeming his Days nearly o*er, might be disposed to riot. As upon such occasions tars will ask For grog, and sometimes drink rum from the cask. 158 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS IX There's nought, no doubt, so much the spirit calms, 65 As rum and true rehgion: thus it was. Some plundered, some drank spirits, some sung psalms; The high wind made the treble, and as bass The hoarse, harsh waves kept time; fright cured the qualms Of all the luckless landsmen's sea-sick maws: 70 Strange sounds of wailing, blasphemy, devotion. Clamored in chorus to the roaring ocean. Perhaps more mischief had been done, but for Our Juan, who, with sense beyond his years, Got to the spirit-room, and stood before 75 It with a pair of pistols; and their fears. As if Death were more dreadful by his door Of fire than water, spite of oaths and tears. Kept still aloof the crew, who, ere they sunk. Thought it would be becoming to die drunk. so XI "Give us more grog!" they cried, "for it will be All one an hour hence." Juan answered, "No! 'Tis true that death awaits both you and me. But let us die like men, not sink below Like brutes;" — and thus his dangerous post kept he, 85 And none liked to anticipate the blow; And even Pedrillo, his most reverend tutor. Was for some rum a disappointed suitor. THE SHIPWRECK 150 XII The good old gentleman was quite aghast. And made a loud and pious lamentation; 90 Repented all his sins, and made a last Irrevocable vow of reformation; Nothing should tempt him more (this peril past) To quit his academic occupation. In cloisters of the classic Salamanca, 95 To follow Juan's wake, like Sancho Panca. XIII But now there came a flash of hope once more; Day broke, and the wind lulled : the masts were gone, The leak increased: shoals round her, but no shore; The vessel swam, yet still she held her own. 100 They tried the pumps again, and though before Their desperate efforts seemed all useless grown, A glimpse of sunshine set some hands to bale — The stronger pumped, the weaker thrummed a sail. XIV Under the vessel's keel the sail was passed, 105 And for the moment it had some effect; But with a leak, and not a stick of mast. Nor rag of canvas, what could they expect? But still 'tis best to struggle to the last, 'Tis never too late to be wholly wrecked: 110 And though 'tis true that man can only die once, 'Tis not so pleasant in the Gulf of Lyons. 160 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XV There winds and waves had hurled them, and from thence. Without their will, they carried them away; For they were forced with steering to dispense, lis And never had as yet a quiet day On which they might repose, or even commence A jurymast or rudder, or could say The ship would swim an hour, which, by good luck. Still swam — though not exactly like a duck. 120 XVI The wind, in fact, perhaps was rather less, But the ship labored so, they scarce could hope To weather out much longer; the distress Was also great with which they had to cope For want of water, and their solid mess 126 Was scant enough; in vain the telescope Was used — nor sail nor shore appeared in sight. Nought but the heavy sea and coming night. XVII Again the weather threatened, — again blew A gale, and in the fore and after hold 130 Water appeared; yet, though the people knew All this, the most were patient, and some bold. Until the chains and leathers were worn through Of all our pumps; — a wreck complete she rolled At mercy of the waves, whose mercies are i35 Like human beings during civil war. THE SHIPWRECK 1(11 XVIII Then came the carpenter, at last, with tears In his rough eyes, and told the captain he Could do no more: he was a man in years, And long had voyaged through many a stormy sea; ho And if he wept at length, they were not fears That made his eyelids as a woman's be. But he, poor fellow, had a wife and children, Two things for dying people quite bewildering. XIX The ship was evidently settling now 145 Fast by the head; and, all distinction gone. Some went to prayers again, and made a vow Of candles to their saints — but there were none To pay them with; and some looked o'er the bow; Some hoisted out the boats: and there was one 150 That begged Pedrillo for an absolution. Who told him to be damned — in his confusion. XX Some lashed them in their hammocks; some put on Their best clothes, as if going to a fair; Some cursed the day on which they saw the sun, 165 And gnashed their teeth, and, howling, tore their hair; And others went on as they had begun. Getting the boats out, being w^ell aware That a tight boat will live in a rough sea, Unless with breakers close beneath her lee. 160 162 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XXI The worst of all was, that in their condition. Having been several days in great distress, 'Twas difficult to get out such provision As now might render their long suffering less: Men, even when dying, dislike inanition; 165 Their stock was damaged by the weather's stress; Two casks of biscuit, and a keg of butter. Were all that could be thrown into the cutter. XXII But in the long-boat they contrived to stow Some pounds of bread, though injured by the wet; 170 Water, a twenty-gallon cask or so. Six flasks of wine; and they contrived to get A portion of their beef up from below. And with a piece of pork, moreover, met, But scarce enough to serve them for a luncheon — 175 Then there was rum, eight gallons in a puncheon. XXIII The other boats, the yawl and pinnace, had Been stove, in the beginning of the gale; And the long-boat's condition was but bad. And there were but two blankets for a sail, iso And one oar for a mast, which a young lad Threw in by good luck over the ship's rail; And two boats could not hold, far less be stored. To save one half the people then on board. THE SHIPWRECK XXIV 'Twas twilight, and the sunless day went down Over the waste of waters; like a veil Which, if withdrawn, would but disclose the frown Of one whose hate is masked but to assail. Thus to their hopeless eyes the night was shown, And grimly darkled o^er the faces pale. And the dim desolate deep: twelve days had Fear Been their familiar, and now Death was here. XXV Some trial had been making at a raft, With little hope in such a rolling sea, A sort of thing at which one would have laughed. If any laughter at such times could be. Unless with people who too much have quaffed. And have a kind of wild and horrid glee, Half epileptical and half hysterical: — Their preservation would have been a miracle. XXVI At half-past eight o^clock, booms, hencoops, spars. And all things, for a chance, had been cast loose. That still could keep afloat the struggling tars. For yet they strove, although of no great use : There was no light in heaven but a few stars. The boats put off, o'ercrowded with their crews. She gave a heel, and then a lurch to port. And, going down head foremost — sunk, in short. 164 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XXVII Then rose from sea to sky the wild farewell — Then shrieked the timid and stood still the brave — 210 Then some leaped overboard with dreadful yell, As eager to anticipate their grave; And the sea yawned around her like a hell, And down she sucked with her the whirling wave, Like one who grapples with his enemy, 215 And strives to strangle him before he die. XXVIII And first one universal shriek there rushed Louder than the loud ocean, like a crash Of echoing thunder; and then all was hushed, Save the wild wind and the remorseless dash 220 Of billows; but at intervals there gushed, Accompanied with a convulsive splash, A solitary shriek, the bubbling cry Of some strong swimmer in his agony. XXIX The boats, as stated, had got off before, 225 And in them crowded several of the crew; And yet their present hope was hardly more Than what it had been; for so strong it blew. There was slight chance of reaching any shore; And then they were too many, though so few — 230 Nine in the cutter, thirty in the boat. Were counted in them when they got afloat. THE SHIPWRECK ic>r> XXX All the rest perished : near two hundred souls Had left their bodies; and what's worse, alas I When over Catholics the ocean rolls, 235 They must wait several weeks before a mass Takes off one peck of purgatorial coals, Because, till people know what's come to pass, They won't lay out their money on the dead — It costs three francs for every mass that's said. 240 XXXI Juan got into the long-boat, and there Contrived to help Pedrillo to a place: It seemed as if they had exchanged their care. For Juan wore the magisterial face Which courage gives, while poor Pedrillo's pair 245 Of eyes were crying for their owner's case; Battista, though, (a name called shortly Tita) Was lost by getting at some aqua-vita. XXXII Pedro, his valet, too, he tried to save. But the same cause, conducive to his loss, 250 Left him so drunk, he jumped into the wave. As o'er the cutter's edge he tried to cross. And so he found a wine-and-watery grave; They could not rescue him, although so close. Because the sea ran higher every minute, 255 And for the boat — the crew kept crowding in it. 166 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XXXIII A small old spaniel — which had been Don Jose's, His father's, whom he loved, as ye may think. For on such things the memory reposes With tenderness — stood howling on the brink, 200 Knowing (dogs have such intellectual noses!) No doubt, the vessel was about to sink: And Juan caught him up, and, ere he stepped Off, threw him in, then after him he leaped. xxxiv He also stuffed his money where he could 265 About his person, and Pedrillo's too. Who let him do, in fact, whatever he would. Not knowing what himself to say or do. As every rising wave his dread renewed; But Juan, trusting they might still get through, 270 And deeming there were remedies for any ill. Thus re-embarked his tutor and his spaniel. xxxv *Twas a rough night, and blew so stiffly yet. That the sail was becalmed between the seas. Though on the wave's high top too much to set, 275 They dared not take it in for all the breeze: Each sea curled o'er the stern, and kept them wet. And made them bale without a moment's ease. So that themselves as well as hopes were damped, And the poor little cutter quickly swamped. 280 THE SHIPWRECK 167 XXXVI Nine souls more went in her; the long-boat still Kept above water, with an oar for mast; Two blankets stitched together, answering ill Instead of sail, were to the oar made fast: Though every wave rolled menacing to fill, 285 And present peril all before surpassed, They grieved for those who perished with the cutter. And also for the biscuit-casks and butter. XXXVII The sun rose red and fiery, a sure sign Of the continuance of the gale: to run 290 Before the sea, until it should grow fine, Was all that for the present could be done: A few teaspoonfuls of their rum and wine Were served out to the people, who begun To faint, and damaged bread wet through the bags, 295 And most of them had little clothes but rags. XXXVIII They counted thirty, crowded in a space Which left scarce room for motion or exertion; They did their best to modify their case. One half sat up, though numbed with the immersion, 300 While t'other half were laid down in their place. At watch and watch; thus, shivering like the tertian Ague in its cold fit, they filled their boat. With nothing but the sky for a great-coat. 168 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XXXIX 'Tis very certain the desire of life 305 Prolongs it; this is obvious to physicians. When patients, neither plagued with friends nor wife. Survive through very desperate conditions, Because they still can hope, nor shines the knife Nor shears of Atropos before their visions: 3io Despair of all recovery spoils longevity, And makes men's miseries of alarming brevity. XL 'Tis said that persons living on annuities Are longer lived than others — God knows why. Unless to plague the grantors — yet so true it is, 3i5 That some, I really think, do never die: Of any creditors the worst a Jew it is. And thafs their mode of furnishing supply: In my young days they lent me cash that way. Which I found very troublesome to pay. 320 XLI 'Tis thus with people in an open boat. They live upon the love of life, and bear More than can be believed, or even thought, And stand like rocks the tempest's wear and tear: And hardship still has been the sailor's lot, 325 Since Noah's ark went cruising here and there; She had a curious crew as well as cargo, Like the first old Greek privateer, the Argo, THE SIIIPWRECK 1(><) XLII But man is a carnivorous production, And must have meals, at least one meal a day; •'^:'.n He cannot live, like woDdcocks, upon suction. But, like the shark and tiger, must have prey: Although his anatomical construction Bears vegetables, in a grumbling way, Your laboring people think, beyond all question, "35 Beef, veal, and mutton, better for digestion. XLIII And thus it was with this our hapless crew; For on the third day there came on a calm, And though at first their strength it might renew, And, lying on their weariness like balm, 340 Lulled them like turtles sleeping on the blue Of ocean, when they woke they felt a qualm, And fell all ravenously on their provision, Instead of hoarding it with due precision. XLIV The consequence was easily foreseen — 345 They ate up all they had, and drank their wine. In spite of all remonstrances, and then On what, in fact, next day were they to dine? They hoped the wind would rise, these foolish men, And carry them to shore; these hopes were fine, 350 But as they had but one oar, and that brittle. It would have been more wise to save their victual. 170 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XLV The fourth day came, but not a breath of air. And Ocean slumbered like an unweaned child; The fifth day, and their boat lay floating there, 355 The sea and sky were blue, and clear, and mild — With their one oar (I wish they had had a pair) What could they do? and hunger's rage grew wild; So Juan's spaniel, spite of his entreating. Was killed, and portioned out for present eating. 36o XLVI On the sixth day they fed upon his hide, And Juan, who had still refused, because The creature was his father's dog that died, Now feeling all the vulture in his jaws. With some remorse received (though first denied), 365 As a great favor, one of the fore-paws. Which he divided with Pedrillo, who Devoured it, longing for the other too. XLVII The seventh day, and no wind — the burning sun Blistered and scorched, and, stagnant on the sea, 370 They lay like carcasses; and hope was none. Save in the breeze that came not: savagely They glared upon each other — all was done, Water, and wine, and food — and you might see The longings of the cannibal arise 375 (Although they spoke not) in their wolfish eyes. THE SHIPWRECK 171 XLVIII And the same night there fell a shower of rain, For which their mouths gaped, like the cracks of earth When dried to summer dust; till taught by pain, Men really know not what good water's worth: 380 If you had been in Turkey or in Spain, Or with a famished boat's crew had your berth. Or in the desert heard the camel's bell, You'd wish yourself where Truth is — in a well. XLIX It poured down torrents, but they were no richer, 385 Until they found a ragged piece of sheet, Wliich served them as a sort of spongy pitcher. And when they deemed its moisture was complete. They wrung it out, and though a thirsty ditcher Might not have thought the scanty draught so sweet 390 As a full pot of porter, to their thinking, They ne'er till now had known the joys of drinking. And their baked lips, with many a bloody crack. Sucked in the moisture which like nectar streamed; Their throats were ovens, their swoln tongues were black, 395 As the rich man's in hell, who vainly screamed To beg the beggar, who could not rain back A drop of dew, when every drop had seemed To taste of heaven — if this be true, indeed. Some Christians have a comfortable creed. 400 172 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS LI There were two fathers in this ghastly crew. And with them their two sons, of whom the one Was more robust and hardy to the view. But he died early; and when he was gone, His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw 405 One glance at him, and said, "Heaven's will be done: I can do nothing"; and he saw him thrown Into the deep, without a tear or groan. LII The other father had a weaklier child, Of a soft cheek and aspect delicate; 4io But the boy bore up long, and with a mild And patient spirit held aloof his fate; Little he said, and now and then he smiled. As if to win a part from off the weight He saw increasing on his father's heart, 416 With the deep deadly thought that they must part. LIII And o'er him bent his sire, and never raised His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed; And when the wished-for shower at length was come, 420 And the boy's eyes, which the dull film half glazed. Brightened and for a moment seemed to roam. He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain Into his dying child's mouth — but in vain. THE SHIPWRECK 178 LIV The boy expired — the father held the clay, 425 And looked upon it long; and when at last Death left no doubt, and the dead burthen lay Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past. He watched it wistfully, until away 'Twas borne by the rude wave wherein 'twas cast; 430 Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering, And gave no signs of life, save his limbs quivering. LV Now overhead a rainbow, bursting through The scattering clouds, shone, spanning the dark sea. Resting Its bright base on the quivering blue, 435 And all within its arch appeared to be Clearer than that w^ithout, and its wide hue Waxed broad and waving like a banner free, Then changed like to a bow that's bent, and then Forsook the dim eyes of these shipwrecked men. 440 LVI It changed, of course; a heavenly chameleon. The airy child of vapor and the sun, Brought forth in purple, cradled in vermilion, Baptized in molten gold, and swathed in dun, Glittering like crescents o'er a Turk's pavilion, 445 And blending every color into one. Just like a black eye in a recent scuffle (For sometimes we must box without the muffle). 174 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS LVII Our shipwrecked seamen thought it a good omen — It is as well to think so now and then; 450 'Twas an old custom of the Greek and Roman, And may become of great advantage when Folks are discouraged; and most surely no men Had greater need to nerve themselves again, Than these, and so this rainbow looked like hope — 455 Quite a celestial kaleidoscope. LVIII About this time a beautiful white bird. Web-footed, not unlike a dove in size And plumage (probably it might have erred Upon its course), passed oft before their eyes, 460 And tried to perch, although it saw and heard The men within the boat, and in this guise It came and went, and fluttered round them till Night fell — this seemed a better omen still. LIX But in this case I also must remark, 465 'Twas well this bird of promise did not perch. Because the tackle of our shattered bark Was not so safe for roosting as a church; And had it been the dove from Noah's ark, Returning there from her successful search, 470 Which in their way that moment chanced to fall. They would have eat her, olive-branch and all. THE SHIPWRECK 175 LX With twilight it again came on to blow. But not with violence; the stars shone out. The boat made way; yet now they were so low 475 They knew not where nor what they were about: Some fancied they saw land, and some said "No!" The frequent fog-banks gave them cause to doubt — Some sw^ore that they heard breakers, others guns. And all mistook about the latter once. 480 LXI As morning broke, the light wind died away, When he who had the watch sung out and sw^ore. If 'twas not land that rose with the sun's ray. He wished that land he never might see more; And the rest rubbed their eyes and saw a bay, 485 Or thought they saw, and shaped their course for shore ; For shore it was, and gradually grew Distinct and high, and palpable to view. LXII And then of these some part burst into tears. And others, looking with a stupid stare, 490 Could not yet separate their hopes from fears. And seemed as if they had no further care; While a few prayed — (the first time for some years) — And at the bottom of the boat three were Asleep: they shook them by the hand and head, 495 And tried to awaken them, but found them dead. 176 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS LXIII The day before, fast sleeping on the water. They found a turtle of the hawk's-bill kind. And by good fortune, gliding softly, caught her, Which yielded a day's life, and to their mind soo Proved even still a more nutritious matter. Because it left encouragement behind: They thought that in such perils, more than chance Had sent them this for their deliverance. LXIV The land appeared a high and rocky coast, 505 And higher grew the mountains as they drew. Set by a current, toward it; they were lost In various conjectures, for none knew To what part of the earth they had been tost. So changeable had been the winds that blew; 5io Some thought it was Mount iEtna, some the highlands Of Candia, Cyprus, Rhodes, or other islands. LXV Meantime the current, with a rising gale. Still set them onwards to the welcome shore. Like Charon's bark of spectres, dull and pale; sis Their living freight was now reduced to four. And three dead, whom their strength could not avail To heave into the deep with those before. Though the two sharks still followed them, and dashed The spray into their faces as they splashed. 520 THE SHIPWRECK 177 LXVI Famine, despair, cold, thirst, and heat, liad done Their work on them by turns, and thinned them to Such things, a mother had not known her son Amidst the skeletons of that gaunt crew; By night chilled, by day scorched, thus one by one 525 They perished, until withered to these few, But chiefly by a species of self-slaughter. In washing down Pedrillo with salt water. LXVII As they drew nigh the land, which now was seen Unequal in its aspect here and there, 530 They felt the freshness of its growing green, That waved in forest tops, and smoothed the air, And fell upon their glazed eyes like a screen From glistening waves, and skies so hot and bare — Lovely seemed any object that should sweep 535 Away the vast, salt, dread, eternal deep. LXVIII The shore looked w^ild, without a trace of man. And girt by formidable waves; but they Were mad for land, and thus their course they ran, Though right ahead the roaring breakers lay: 640 A reef between them also now began To show its boiling surf and bounding spray; But finding no place for their landing better, Thev ran the boat for shore — and overset her. 178 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS LXIX But in his native stream, the Guadalquivir, 645 Juan to lave his youthful limbs was wont; And having learnt to swim in that sweet river, Had often turned the art to some account: A better swimmer you could scarce see ever. He could, perhaps, have passed the Hellespont, 550 As once (a feat on which ourselves we prided) Leander, Mr. Ekenhead, and I did. LXX So here, though faint, emaciated, and stark. He buoyed his boyish limbs, and strove to ply With the quick wave, and gain, ere it was dark, 555 The beach which lay before him, high and dry: The greatest danger here was from a shark. That carried off his neighbor by the thigh; As for the other two, they could not swim. So nobody arrived on shore but him. 560 LXXI Nor yet had he arrived but for the oar. Which, providentially for him, was washed Just as his feeble arms could strike no more. And the hard wave overwhelmed him as 'twas dashed Within his grasp; he clung to it, and sore 565 The waters beat while he thereto was lashed; At last, with swimming, wading, scrambling, he Rolled on the beach, half senseless, from the sea. THE SHIPWRECK 179 LXXII There, breathless, with his digging nails he clung Fast to the sand, lest the returning wave, 570 From whose reluctant roar his life he wrung. Should suck him back to her insatiate grave: And there he lay full length, where he was flung, Before the entrance of a cliff-worn cave. With just enough of life to feel its pain, 575 And deem that it was saved, perhaps, in vain. LXXIII With slow and staggering effort he arose. But sunk again upon his bleeding knee And quivering hand; and then he looked for those Who long had been his mates upon the sea; 580 But none of them appeared to share his woes. Save one, a corpse, from out the famished three. Who died two days before, and now had found An unknown barren beach for burial ground. LXXIV And as he gazed, his dizzy brain spun fast, 585 And down he sunk; and as he sunk, the sand Swam round and round, and all his senses passed: He fell upon his side, and his stretched hand Drooped dripping on the oar (their jury-mast) ; And, like a withered lily, on the land 590 His slender frame and palHd aspect lay. As fair a thing as e'er was formed of clay. THE ISLES OF GREECE FROM THE THIRD CANTO OF "DON JUAN" The isles of Greece! the isles of Greece I Where burning Sappho loved and sung. Where grew the arts of war and peace, — Where Delos rose and Phoebus sprung! Eternal summer gilds them yet. But all, except their sun, is set. The Scian and the Teian muse. The hero's harp, the lover's lute. Have found the fame your shores refuse; Their place of birth alone is mute lo To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' " Islands of the Blest." Ill The mountains look on Marathon — And Marathon looks on the sea; And musing there an hour alone, is I dreamed that Greece might still be free; For, standing on the Persians' grave, I could not deem myself a slave. 180 THE ISLES OF GREECE 181 IV A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salaniis; 20 And ships, by thousands, lay below. And men in nations; — all were his! He counted them at break of day — And when the sun set where were they? And where are they? and where art thou, 25 My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now — The heroic bosom beats no more! And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine? 30 VI *Tis something, in the dearth of fame. Though linked among a fettered race. To feel at least a patriot's shame. Even as I sing, sulTuse my face: For what is left the poet here? 35 For Greeks a blush — for Greece a tear. VII Must we but weep o'er days more blest? Must we but blush ? — Our fathers bled. Earth! render back from out thy breast A remnant of our Spartan dead! 40 Of the three hundred grant but three. To make a new Thermopylae! 182 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS VIII What, silent still ? and silent all ? Ah I no; — the voices of the dead Sound like a distant torrent's fall, 45 And answer, "Let one living head, But one, arise — we come, we come!" 'Tis but the living who are dumb. IX In vain — in vain: strike other chords: Fill high the cup with Samian wine! so Leave battles to the Turkish hordes. And shed the blood of Scio's vine! Hark! rising to the ignoble call — How answers each bold Bacchanal! You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, 65 Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone? Of two such lessons, why forget The nobler and the manlier one? You have the letters Cadmus gave — Think ye he meant them for a slave ? 60 XI Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! We will not think of themes like these! It made Anacreon's song divine: He served — but served Polycrates — A tyrant; but our masters then 65 Were still, at least, our countrymen. THE ISLES OF GREECE 183 XII The tyrant of the Chersonese Was freedom's best and bravest friend; That tyrant was Miltiades! Oh! that the present hour would lend 70 Another despot of the kind! Such chains as his were sure to bind. XIII Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore. Exists the remnant of a line 75 Such as the Doric mothers bore; And there, perhaps, some seed is sown. The Heracleidan blood might own. XIV Trust not for freedom to the Franks — They have a king who buys and sells: so In native swords and native ranks. The only hope of courage dwells; But Turkish force and Latin fraud Would break your shield, however broad. XV Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! 85 Our virgins dance beneath the shade — I see their glorious black eyes shine; But, gazing on each glowing maid. My own the burning tear-drop laves. To think such breasts must suckle slaves. 90 184 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS XVI Place me on Sunium's marble steep, Where nothing, save the waves and I, May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; There, swan-like, let me sing and die! A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine — 95 Dash down yon cup of Samian winel NOTES The purpose of this httle volume is to present some of the best of Byron's poetry. Besides the poems printed here, we should strongly recommend the interested student to read the Third Canto of Childe Harold, and the stirring drama of Man- fred. The best way to enjoy poetry is to read it, and to read it aloud. This is especially true of Byron, whose rhetorical quality has never been surpassed. He was an orator in verse, leaving upon the reader the impression of an earnest speaker pleading for a cause. The notes have been prepared to encourage the reader to read and think for himself, not with the object of furnishing all the information or a definite interpretation. Notes by Byron, Moore, Hobhouse, or E. H. Coleridge are signed with their respective initials, B., or M., or H., or E. H. C. ON LEAVING NEWSTEAD ABBEY On the dissolution of the monasteries by Henry VIII, the priory of Newstead, Nottinghamshire, was granted to " Sir John Byron, the Little, with the great beard." It remained the seat of the family till Byron sold it in 1817. Ossian. The reputed Highland bard whose alleged work Macpherson rendered in English prose. Page 3, Line 11. — Askalon. An ancient city of Syria. — Horistan Castle. An ancient seat of the Byron family; in Derbyshire. 13. — Cressy. The scene of the victory of Edward III over the French in 1346. 4, 17. — Marston Moor, where, in 1644, the followers of Charles I were defeated by Cromwell. — Rupert. Prince Rupert, nephew of Charles I and one of the leaders of the royal army. ON A DISTANT VIEW OF HARROW Byron entered Harrow, the famous boys' school near Lon- don, in 1801 and remained till 1805. Many interesting stories 185 180 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS are told of his life at Harrow, his affection for his friends, especially Sir Robert Peel, his love of fighting, his sports, his pride of family, his carelessness in pursuing his work as pupil. A tomb is still pointed out in the churchyard as " Byron's Tomb," where, tradition says, "he used to sit for hours wrapt up in thought." Oh ! mihi. Ah, if Jove only brought back the years past. 6, 10.— fought. "I think I lost but one battle out of seven." (B.) 18. — Zanga, Alonzo. Characters in Young's drama. The Revenge. " For the display of his declamatory powers, on the speech-days, he selected always the most vehement passages, such as the speech of Zanga over the body of Alonzo and Lear's address to the storm." 6, 20. — Mossop. Henry Mossop (1729-1773), a contempo- rary of Garrick, famous for his performance of Zanga in Young's tragedy. 24.— Garrick. David Garrick, the celebrated English actor (1716-1779). 29. — Ida. A fanciful name for Harrow, because on Mount Ida the infant Jupiter was taught. LACHIN Y GAIR " Lachin y Gair, or, as it is pronounced in the Erse, Loch na Garr, towers proudly pre-eminent in the Northern High- lands, near Invercauld. One of our modern tourists mentions it as the highest mountain, perhaps, in Great Britain. Be this as it may, it is certainly one of the most sublime and pictur- esque amongst our "Caledonian Alps." Its appearance is of a dusky hue, but the summit is the seat of eternal snows. Near Lachin y Gair I spent some of the early part of my life, the rec- ollection of which has given birth to these stanzas." (B.) " From this period I date my love of mountainous countries." (B.) 7, 10. — plaid. "This word is erroneously pronounced plod; the proper pronunciation (according to the Scotch) is shown by the orthography." (B.) 8, 25. — Ill-starred. "I allude here to my maternal ancestors, 'the Gordons,' many of whom fought for the unfortunate Prince Charles, better known by the name of the Pretender. This branch was nearly allied by blood, as well as attachment, NOTES IS? to the Stuarts. George, the second Earl of Huntly, mairicd the Princess Annabella Stuart, daughter of James the L'irst of Scotland. By her he left four sons: the third, Sir William Gordon, I have the honor to claim. as one of my progenitors." (B.) 27. — CuUoden. "Whether any perished in the battle of Cul- loden, I am not certain; but as many fell in the insurrection, I have used the name of the principal action, 'pars pro toto.'" (B.) 30. — Braemar. A tract of the Highlands so called. There is also a Castle of Braemar. (B.) THE PRAYER OF NATURE These stanzas were first published in Moore's Letters and Journals of Lord Byron, 1830. Moore says it was "written in December, 1806, when he was not yet nineteen years old. It contains, as will be seen, his religious creed at that period and shows how early the struggle between natural piety and doubt began in his mind." STANZAS COMPOSED DURING A THUNDER- STORM "Composed October 11, 1809, during the night in a thunder- storm when the guides had lost the road to Zitza in Albania. Hobhouse, who had ridden on before the party and arrived at Zitza just as the evening set in, describes the thunder as roll- ing 'without intermission. The tempest was altogether terrific and worthy of the Grecian Jove.' Lord Byron, with the priest and the servants, did not enter our hut before three in the morn- ing. I now learnt from him that they had lost their way and, after wandering up and down in total ignorance of their position, had at last stopped near some Turkish tombstones and a torrent which they saw by the flashes of lightning. They had been thus exposed for nine hours." (M.) 13, 36. — Florence. A Mrs. Spencer Smith, an English lady whom Byron met at Malta in the summer of 1809. 41. — Siroc. — Sirocco, an oppressive warm wind from Africa. 14, 57. — Calypso's Isles. Calypso was a sea nymph on whose island Odysseus was cast ashore and for some time held, on his journey home from Troy. 188 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS ADDRESS SPOKEN AT THE OPENING OF DRURY- LANE THEATRE These lines were first published in the Morning Chronicle, October 12, 1812. The famous theatre, named from the street on which it stood, was opened in 1663. 15, 10. — Shake its red shadow. A reference to the burning of the theatre, February 24, 1809. "By and by the best view of the said fire (which I myself saw from a housetop in Covent Garden) was at Westminster Bridge, from the reflection on the Thames." — From Byron's Letter. 16, 31. — Siddons. The celebrated Enghsh actress (1755- 1831). 34. — Roscius. The famous actor of comedy in ancient Rome; instructor and friend of Cicero. 40. — Menander. The Athenian comic poet who lived in the fourth century before Christ. 43.— Brinsley. Richard Brinsley Sheridan (1751-1816), dramatist, orator and pohtician, who wrote The Rivals and The School for Scandal. 46. — Banquo. In Shakespeare's Macbeth; he was murdered by the aspiring Macbeth. HEBREW MELODIES She Walks in Beauty and all those which follow including A Spirit Passed Before Me are known as the Hebrew Melodies. They appeared with the following advertisement: "The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a selection of Hebrew Melodies and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan, January 1815." They were written in 1813, 1814, 1815. The poems express in a simple and beautiful manner some of the best known incidents of the Old Testament. Besides showing the author's familiarity with the lyrics and narratives of the Bible, they breathe the sincere sympathy which he had for the Hebrew people. The diction is simple, the versification is skilful. Each little poem is complete in itself and shows an admirable restraint of feeling. NOTES IS!) The notes which follow arc intended to be helpful in direct- ing the reader to the original. In each case the corresponding song or narrative should he read. Any of the following notes which are cjuotcd and which are attributed to no other source have beem taken from I. Nathan's early edition of the Melo- dies, entitled Fugitive Pieces, 1829. SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY These hnes were written June 12, 1814. They were inspired by Byron's cousin, Miss Wilmot, whom the poet saw for the first time at a party on the previous evening. THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT 21, 2. — The King of men. David, the famous and beloved King of Israel. He lived about 1000 B. C. The harp was his favorite instrument and was used by him on all great and joy- ous occasions. The poem is a splendid tribute to the powers of music which have been appreciated by every nation. In con- nection ^vith these lines, one should read the poem Saul by Robert Browning. I. Nathan says of the poem in its present form: "When his Lordship put the copy into my hand, it terminated thus — " ' Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode.' This, however, did not complete the verse and I wished him to help out the melody. 'Why, I have sent you to Heaven, it would be difficult to go further.' My attention for a few mo- ments was called to some other person, and his Lordship, whom I had hardly missed, exclaimed, ' Here, Nathan, I have brought you down again,' and immediately presented me the beautiful and sublime lines which conclude the melody." THE WILD GAZELLE This poem describes simply and beautifully the loss to Judah of her people who are scattered over the face of the earth. Byron, always full of sympathy with a down-trodden peo- ple, lamented especially the fate of the Jews. Moreover, the lines describe vividly the grace and beauty of the gazelle. He 190 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS was fond of animals and wrote of them often and sympatheti- cally. Explain the words Judah, Salem. What is the reference to the cedars of Lebanon ? Explain the last line of the poem. OH! WEEP FOR THOSE In this poem is depicted the desolate state of the Jewish na- tion, as exiles in a foreign country but still remembering Zion. Byron never wrote a finer little poem than this. ON JORDAN'S BANKS It will be observed that Byron protests vehemently against the possession of the Holy Land by the hostile Mohammedan Turks. What does Baal-adorer mean? Explain the Biblical allusions in the second stanza. JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER Chapter XI of the Book of Judges contains the story of the sacrifice of the daughter of Jephtha. Byron's poem presents her as speaking. What is the effect upon the reader of the incident presented in this way? OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM Published in the Examiner, April 23, 1815. Perhaps these lines contain a remembrance of the mysterious Thyrza, several times mentioned by Byron but never quite identified. In his large edition of Byron's poems, Mr. E. H. Coleridge prints a note communicated to him regarding Thyrza. "There can be no doubt that Lord Byron referred to Thyrza in conversation with Lady Byron and probably also with Mrs. Leigh, as a young girl who had existed and the date of whose death almost coincided with Lord Byron's landing in England in 1811. On one occa- sion he showed Lady Byron a beautiful tress of hair which she understood to be Thyrza's. He said he had never mentioned her name and now that she was gone his breast was the sole depository of that secret." NOTES 191 The sentiment of the poem is very true and has been often expressed by the poets, especially by Tennyson in his In Memo- MY SOUL IS DARK It was often reported that Byron's mind was actually impaired. He referred to the rumor and " declared that he would try how a madman could write : seizing the pen with eagerness, he for a moment fixed his eyes in majestic wildness on vacancy, when like a flash of inspiration, without erasing a single word, the above verses were the result." I SAW THEE WEEP This poem shows how well Byron observed the human face. THY DAYS ARE DONE "Lord Byron in this melody has some reference to a fallen warrior, whose deeds remain a monument to his memory, and though dead to the world he still leaves a lasting impression on the minds of the living," Byron once remarked that "had Napoleon died on the field at Waterloo, his end would have been more in unison with his former intrepid career." SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE These lines are supposed to have been spoken by Saul before his battle with the Philistines. The character of Saul as king and valiant warrior is prominent. Saul shows the same grim determination that made our Anglo-Saxon ancestors loyal unto death to their tribal chiefs. SAUL The suggestion for these lines came from the Old Testament, 1 Samuel, chapter xxviii. Saul, the King of Israel, fell in battle against the Philistines. The reference to thy son is to Jona- than, the beloved friend of David. Samuel was the famous prophet who was something of a primitive king-maker. It will be interesting to read Browning's poem Said in connec- 192 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS tion with the lines of Byron. Like Walter Scott, Byron had special power in describing heroic characters and recounting heroic events. ALL IS VANITY "Lord Byron in these beautiful verses treats in a masterly manner the varieties and transient uncertainty of human en- joyments. He commences with the young man launching into life, with all that wealth and splendor can bestow." " The second is no less striking; when the middle stage of life commences, we are still addicted to the pleasure of the past and when the shadows of old age assail us at a distance, the noble poet recoils to the past and wishes rather to recede than to advance." WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY This poem has sometimes been mentioned to show that Byron was irreligious. Is it not rather a very noble sentiment expressing a real question? Here he seems to rise above de- clamatory and descriptive verse to a sincere personal yearning for the answer to a great question. The poem is full of beauty and suggestion. VISION OF BELSHAZZAR For the original of the incident of this poem, the reader should turn to the fifth chapter of the Book of Daniel. According to the Old Testament account, Belshazzar was the son of Nebu- chadnezzar and the last king of Babylonia. 33, 2. — Satraps. Governors of Persian provinces. It will be remembered that Chaldea was the country of ancient times which was much given to the study of the stars and of history. The poem illustrates splendidly Byron's skill in telhng im- pressively a heroic incident. We are not shown the feelings of the king, we see only the actions of the king. SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS What is the sun of the sleepless ? Why tearful beam? Explain the words " but warms not with its powerless rays." NOTES 1!):] WERE THY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU DEEM'ST IT TO BE "Lord Byron often observed that notwithstanding the op- pressed state of the Jewish nation, though dispersed in every cHmate, without a fixed country, yet they remain uncontani- inated by the creed of any other nation and retain their orig- inal forms of worship with their primitive laws and bonds of HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE "Mariamne, the wife of Herod, falHng under the suspicion of infideHty, was put to death by his order. Ever after, Herod was haunted by the image of the murdered Mariamne, until disorder of the mind brought on disorder of the body, which led to temporary derangement." — Milman's History of the Jews. ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF JERUSALEM BY TITUS In the year 70 A. D. Jerusalem was captured by the Romans under Titus. "In the composition of the foregoing stanzas, he professed to me that he had always considered the fall of Jerusalem as the most remarkable event of all history, 'for (in his own words) who can behold the entire destruction of that mighty pile, the desolate wanderings of its inhabitants, and compare these posi- tive occurrences with the distant prophecies which foreran them and be an infidel?'" BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT DOWN AND WEPT These lines were written January 15, 1813. The similarity between this poem and the next will be immediately recognized. THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB This poem was written February 17, 1815. For the original of the incident, the reader should turn to the eighteenth and nineteenth chapters of 2 Kings. lot BYRON'S SELECT POEMS This poem has always been one of the most popular of Byron's short poems. Its simplicity, striking similes, dignified metre and vivid descriptions may largely account for so many people Ukjng the poem. 40, 1.— The Assyrian. Sennacherib, one of the great Assyrian rulers. * He was engaged in many wars against the Babylonians. 41, 21. — Ashur. Assyria. A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME The suggestion for this poem came from Job iv, 15-21. PROMETHEUS The character of Prometheus early attracted Byron, whose first exercise at Harrow was a paraphrase from the chorus of PrometJieus Vinctus by ^schylus. "The Prometheus, if not exactly my plan, has always been so much in my head, that 1 can easily conceive its influence over all or anything that I have written." Mr. E. H. Coleridge says of the poet, ''The concep- tion of an immortal sufferer, at once beneficent and defiant, appealed alike to his passions and his convictions and awoke a pecuhar enthusiasm. His poems abound with allusions to the hero and the legend." TO THOMAS MOORE "To Thomas Moore, July 10, 1817. This should have been written fifteen months ago— the first stanza was. I am just come out from an hour's swim in the Adriatic, and I write to you with a black-eyed Venetian girl before me, reading Boccac- cio." ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR Written January 22, 1824. Byron died on the 19th of the following April. He said as he came from his bedroom. You were complaining the other day that I never write any poetry now. This is my birthday and I have just finished something which I think is better than what I usually write." NOTES 195 CHILDE HAROLD, CANTO THE FOURTH Visto ho Toscana, Lombardia. Romagna, Quel Monte che divide, e auel che serra Italia, e un mare e I'altro, cne la bagna. — Ariosto, i^alira Hi. PREFACE Venice, January 2, 1818. TO John Hobhouse, Esq., a.m., f.r.s. &c. &c. &c. MY DEAR HOBHOUSE, After an interval of eight years between the composition of the first and last cantos of Childe Harold, the conclusion of the poem is about to be submitted to the pubhc. In part- ing with so old a friend, it is not extraordinary that I should recur to one still older and better — to one who has beheld the birth and death of the other, and to whom I am far more indebted for the social advantages of an enlightened friendship, than — though not ungrateful — I can, or could be, to Childe Harold, for any public favor reflected through the poem on the poet, — to one whom I have known long and accompanied far, whom I have found wakeful over my sickness and kind in my sorrow, glad in my prosperity and firm in my adversity, true in counsel and trusty in peril, — to a friend often tried and never found wanting; — to yourself. In so doing, I recur from fiction to truth; and in dedicat- ing to you, in its complete, or at least concluded state, a poeti- cal work which is the longest, the most thoughtful and com- prehensive of my compositions, I wish to do honor to myself by the record of many years' intimacy with a man of learning, of talent, of steadiness, and of honor. It is not for minds like ours to give or to receive flattery; yet the praises of sincerity have ever been permitted to the voice of friendship; and it is not for you, nor even for others, but to relieve a heart which has not elsewhere, or lately, been so much accustomed to the encounter of good-will as to withstand the shock firmly, that I thus attempt to commemorate your good qualities, or rather the advantages which I have derived from their exertion. Even the recurrence of the date of this letter, the anniversary of the most unfortunate day of my past existence, but which 196 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS cannot poison my future while I retain the resource of your friendship, and of my own faculties, will henceforth have a more agreeable recollection for both, inasmuch as it will re- mind us of this my attempt to thank you for an indefatigable regard, such as few men have experienced, and no one could experience without thinking better of his species and of himself. It has been our fortune to traverse together, at various periods, the countries of chivalry, history, and fable — Spain, Greece, Asia Minor, and Italy; and what Athens and Constantinople were to us a few years ago, Venice and Rome have been more recently. The poem also, or the pilgrim, or both, have ac- companied me from first to last; and perhaps it may be a par- donable vanity which induces me to reflect with complacency on a composition which in some degree connects me with the spot where it was produced, and the objects it would fain de- scribe; and however unworthy it may be deemed of those magi- cal and memorable abodes, however short it may fall of our distant conceptions and immediate impressions, yet as a mark of respect for what is venerable, and of feeling for what is glorious, it has been to me a source of pleasure in the produc- tion, and I part with it with a kind of regret, which I hardly suspected that events could have left me for imaginary objects. With regard to the conduct of the last canto, there will be found less of the pilgrim than in any of the preceding, and that little slightly, if at all, separated from the author speaking in his own person. The fact is, that I had become weary of drawing a line which every one seemed determined not to per- ceive: like the Chinese in Goldsmith's Citizen of the World, whom nobody would believe to be a Chinese, it was in vain that I asserted, and imagined that I had drawn, a distinction be- tween the author and the pilgrim; and the very anxiety to preserve this difference, and disappointment at finding it un- availing, so far crushed my efforts in the composition, that I determined to abandon it altogether — and have done so. The opinions which have been, or may be, formed on that subject, are now a matter of indifference; the work is to depend on itself, and not on the writer; and the author, who has no resources in his own mind beyond the reputation, transient or permanent, which is to arise from his literary efforts, deserves the fate of authors. In the course of the following Canto it was my intention, either in the text or in the notes, to have touched upon the NOTES 197 present state of Italian literature, and perhaps of manners. But the text, within the Hmits I proposed, I soon found hardly sufficient for the labyrinth of external objects and the conse- quent reflections; and for the whole of the notes, excepting a few of the shortest, I am indebted to yourself, and these were necessarily limited to the elucidation of the text. It is also a delicate, and no very grateful task, to dissert upon the literature and manners of a nation so dissimilar; and requires an attention and impartiality which would induce us — though perhaps no inattentive observers, nor ignorant of the language or customs of the people amongst whom we have re- cently abode — to distrust, or at least defer our judgment, and more narrowly examine our information. The state of liter- aiy, as well as pohtical party, appears to run, or to have run, so high, that for a stranger to steer impartially between them is next to impossible. It may be enough, then, at least for my purpose, to quote from their own beautiful language — " Mi pare che in un paese tutto poetico, che vanta la lingua la piii nobile ed insieme la piii dolce, tutte tutte le vie diverse si possono tentare, e che sinche la patria di Alfieri e di Monti non ha perduto I'antico valore, in tutte essa dovrebbe essere la prima." Italy has great names still — Canova, Monti, Ugo Foscolo, Pindemonti, Visconti, Morelli, Cicognara, Albrizzi, Mezzophanti, Mai, Mustoxidi, AgHetti, and Vacca, will secure to the present generation an honorable place in most of the departments of Art, Science, and Belles Lettres; and in some the very highest — Europe— the World — has but one Canova. It has been somewhere said by Alfieri, that " La pianta uomo nasce piii robusta in Itaha che in qualunque altra terra — e che gh stessi atroci delitti che vi si commettono ne sono una prova." Without subscribing to the latter part of his proposition — a dangerous doctrine, the truth of which may be disputed on better grounds, namely, that the Italians are in no respect more ferocious than their neighbors — that man must be wilfully blind, or ignorantly heedless, who is not struck with the extraor- dinary capacity of this people, or, if such a word be admissible, their capabilities, the facility of their acquisitions, the rapidity of their conceptions, the fire of their genius, their sense of beauty, and amidst all the disadvantages of repeated revolutions, the desolation of battles, and the despair of ages, their still un- quenched "longing after immortality" — the immortality of independence. And when we ourselves, in riding round the 198 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS walls of Rome, heard the simple lament of the laborers' chorus, "Roma! Roma! Roma! Roma non e piu come era prima," it was difficult not to contrast this melancholy dirge with the bacchanal roar of the songs of exultation, still yelled from the London taverns, over the carnage of Mont St. Jean, and the betrayal of Genoa, of Italy, of France, and of the world, by men whose conduct you yourseK have exposed in a work worthy of the better days of our history. For me, — *' Non movero mai corda '\Ove la turba di sue ciance assorda." What Italy has gained by the late transfer of nations, it were useless for Englishmen to inquire, till it becomes ascer- tained that England has acquired something more than a per- manent army and a suspended Habeas Corpus; it is enough for them to look at home. For what they have done abroad, and especially in the South, "Verily they will have their reward," and at no very distant period. Wishing you, my dear Hobhouse, a safe and agreeable re- turn to that country whose real welfare can be dearer to none than to yourself, I dedicate to you this poem in its completed state; and repeat once more how truly I am ever Your obliged And affectionate friend, Byron. In the study of The Fourth Canto, the student should with his first rapid reading group the stanzas into the main divisions of the poet's survey of Italy and give chapter headings, as it were, to the parts of the vision of Italy that Byron here displays. In the second reading the study should be detailed. 49, 1. — the Bridge of Sighs leads from the Ducal Palace, or Palace of the Doges, to the Prison of the State. 8. — winged Lion. The symbol of Venice is the Lion of St. Mark. 10. — Cybele. "'The mother of the Goddesses' was repre- sented as wearing a mural crown. Venice with her train of proud towers is the earth-goddess Cybele, having 'suffered a sea-change.'" (E. H. C.) The accent is usually Cy'hele. 19. — Tasso's echoes. "The gondoliers used to sing alternate stanzas of the Gerusalemme Liberata, capping each other like NOTES 1!)!) the shepherds in the Bucolics. The rival reciters were some- times attached to tlie same gondola; but often the response came from a passing gondolier, a stranger to the singer who chal- lenged the contest." (E. H. C.) The Gerusalcmme Liberata (Jerusalem Delivered) is the most famous poem of the celebrated Italian, Toniuato Tasso (1544-1595). See xxxvi jj. 50, 31. — dogeless. The office of a doge (duke) was estab- lished as the highest office in Venice about 700 A. D. and re- mained until Venice was conquered by Napoleon in 1797. 33. — the Rialto. The chief bridge of Venice, spanning the Grand Canal. — In what plays of Shakespeare do these names appear? The Rialto meant to Shakespeare, however, not the Bridge but the oldest part of Venice, containing the Exchange. 34. — Pierre. The hero of a famous seventeenth century tragedy by Otway, Veiiice Preserved. 51, 64. — in strange eyes, etc. Because of much adverse criticism Byron abandoned England in 1816. See biographical Introduction. Byron once wrote to Murray, "I am sure my bones would not rest in an English grave, nor my clay mix with the earth of that country." 52, 82. — the temple. Westminster Abbey, from which even Byron's monument was excluded, or St. Paul's Cathedral. 85. — Spartan's epitaph. The answer of the mother of Bras- idas, the Lacedemonian general, to the strangers who praised the memory of her son. 93. — The Bucentaur. The state barge in which on Ascension Day the Doge of Venice used to wed the Adriatic by dropping a ring into it. It was dismantled by the French in 1797, 95. — St. Mark . . . lion. It was customary for cities and countries to have their patron saints, e. g., Venice, St. Mark; France, St. Denis; Ireland, St. Patrick; England, St. George. The figure of the winged lion surmounts a pillar on the Piazzetta. 97. — Emperor sued. Frederick Barbarossa, the most noted emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. In 1183 by the Treaty of Constance he was compelled to renounce all the right to rule over certain Italian cities for which he had fought for thirty years. It was at Venice that he was reconciled to the pope. 53, 100. — The Swabian. Barbarossa. In 1814 Venice was restored to Austria, under whom it remained for half a century. 103. — sceptred cities. The old-time commonwealths, Venice, Florence, Genoa, Pisa. 200 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS 106. — lauwine. Avalanche. (Ger.) 107. — Dandolo. Enrico Dandolo was elected Doge in 1192 at the age of eighty-five years. When he commanded the Vene- tians at the taking of Constantinople (Byzantium) he was con- sequently ninety-seven years of age. (H.) 109. — steeds of brass. Four bronze horses over the main portal of St. Mark's. 111. — Doria's menace. In 1319 when the Genoese fought with the Venetians and overcame them, the Genoese commander Doria sent word to the vanquished Venetians that they should not have peace " until we have first put a rein upon those un- bridled horses of yours that are upon the porch of your evange- list St. Mark." 114. — Sinks. It will be remembered that the great tower, the Campanile, fell a few years ago. At various times men have predicted that the city of Venice would disappear into the sea. 118. — Tyre, the magnificent city of Phoenicia, was built upon islands. 119. — by- word. The nickname for the Venetians was Panta- loon — from St. Pantaleon, "Plant the Lion," the first patron saint of Venice. 123.— Ottomite. The Ottoman Turk. 124.— Candia. "On the twenty-ninth of September (1669), Candia and the island of Candia, passed away from Venice after a defence which lasted twenty-five years." Troy withstood the Greeks ten years. 125. — Lepanto. The Gulf of Lepanto was the scene of the defeat of the Turks by the Venetians, October 7, 1571. 54, 136. — Athens' armies fell at Syracuse. Some of the Athenian captives were said to have been granted their free- dom if they would recite passages from Euripides (poet in the Attic [Athenian] dialect). Observe the vivid manner which Byron can use in portraying some past and imaginary scene. 147. — choral memory. The remembrance kept fresh by song. 151. — Ocean queen. The ancient name of Britain? Ob- serve Byron's liking for the formal figure, apostrophe. 55, 158. — Otway. Thomas Otway wrote Venice Preserved, Mrs. Anne Radcliflfe, The Mysteries of Udolpho, Schiller, The Ghost-Seer, and Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice and Othello. Scenes from each of these are laid in Venice. NOTES 201 172. — tannen. The German plural of tanne, "a species of fir peculiar to the Alps, which thrives in very rocky jjarts where scarcely soil sufficient for its nourishment can be found. On these spots it grows to a greater height than any other mountain tree." (B.) 56, 200. — Comes a token. Compare Bishop Blougram's la- ment on the instability of faith — ** Just when we axe safest, there's a sunset touch, A fa,ncy from a flower bell, some one's death, A chorus ending from Euripides, And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears." (Browning's Works.) (E. H. C.) 58, 238. — Friuli's mountains. The Julian Alps which lie to the north of Trieste and north-east of Venice. 240. — Iris of the West. "The above description may seem fantastical or exaggerated to those who have never seen an Oriental or an Italian sky, yet it is but a literal and hardly sufficient delineation of an August evening (the eighteenth) as contemplated in one of many rides along the banks of the Brenta, near La Mira." (B.) 242. — Dian's crest. The symbol of Diana, the crescent moon. 247.— Rhaetian hill. The Rhaetian Alps. 250. — Brenta. — A river emptying into the lagoon of Venice, on the south. 59, 262. — Arqua. Twelve miles from Padua; it holds the tomb of Petrarch. 267. — raise a language. The dialect became through the Florentines, Dante, Petrarch, and Boccaccio, the standard of Italian speech. 60, 307. — Ferrara. Twenty-seven miles from Bologna; it was the seat of the dukes of Este and the home of Tasso and Ariosto. 311. Este (es'td). Este, a family long prominent in Ferrara. 61, 317. — his cell. It is a fact that Torquato Tasso was an inmate of the hospital at Ferrara for almost eight years, but the causes, the character, and the place of his imprisonment have been subjects of legend and misrepresentation. (E. H. C.) Here Byron seems to believe the story that Tasso was impris- oned by Duke Alfonso of the Este family. 339. — Cruscan quire. The Accademia della Crusca, estab- lished at Florence in 1582, did not approve of Tasso 's work; Boileau, the famous French critic, spoke of his work as tinsel. 202 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS 341. — his country's creaking lyre. It should be remembered that French poetry of Boileau's day had much of the formal character of English poetry in Pope's century, from which the Romantic movement was a revolt. 62, 354. — Bards of Hell and Chivalry. Dante and Ariosto. 355. — Tuscan father. Dante. 357. — The Southern Scott. Ariosto, as poet of chivalry. 361. — lightning rent. "Before the remains of Tasso were removed from the Benedictine church to the library of Ferrara, his bust, which surmounted the tomb, was struck by lightning, and a crown of laurels melted away," (H.) 368. — The lightning sanctifies. A Roman superstition. 63, 370. — Italia, etc. A free translation of a sonnet by Fil- icaja. 389. — Roman friend. "The celebrated letter of Servius Sul- picius to Cicero on the death of his daughter describes as it then was and now is, a path which I often traced in Greece, both by sea and land, in different journeys and voyages: 'On my return from Asia, as I was sailing from Aequia towards Megara I began to contemplate the prospect of the countries around me. Aequia was behind, Megara before me, Piraeus on the right, Corinth on the left; all which towns, once famous and flourishing, now lie overturned and buried in their ruins. Upon this sight, I could not but think presently within myself, Alas! how do we poor mortals fret and vex ourselves if any of our friends happen to die or be killed, whose life is yet so short, when the carcasses of so many noble cities lie here exposed be- fore me in one view.'" (B.) 392. — Megara. A village, once a city, near Athens, iEgina is an island to the N. E. of Athens, Piraeus is the port of Athens. 65, 425. — Etrurian Athens. Florence, capital of Tuscany, anciently Etruria. 433. — The Goddess. The statue of Venus de Medici in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence. 450. — Dardan Shepherd. During the nuptials of Peleus and Thetis, Eris threw a golden apple among the marriage guests with the inscription, "To the fairest." A dispute arose be- tween Hera, Aphrodite, and Athene over the apple, and Zeus ordered Hermes to take the goddesses to Paris who was tend- ing his flocks on Mt. Gargarus and who would award the prize. NOTES 2():J To influence his decision Hera offered liini power, Athene mar- tial glory, Aphrodite the most beautiful woman. He awarded the apple to Aphrodite, who in return assisted Paris to carry- Helen off from Sparta and thus brought on the Trojan War. 66, 452, — Anchises. Beloved by Venus; their son was iEneas, 67, 478. — Santa Croce (krot^-shc). "The tombs of Mac- chiavelli, Michael Angelo, Galileo Galilei, and Alfieri make it the Westminster Abbey of Italy." (B.) 495. — Canova. Celebrated Italian sculptor (1757-1822). 496. — Etruscan three. Dante (1265-1321) author of The Di- vine Comedy; Petrarch (1304-1374) author of many sonnets and odes in honor of Laura; Boccaccio (1313-1375) author of the Decameron, a collection of one hundred stories. Dante was expelled from his native city, Florence, in the strife between Guelphs and Ghibellines and was buried at Ravenna. The grave of Petrarch at Arqua was desecrated by the Florentines. Boccaccio was buried at his birth-place, Certaldo. In the eighteenth century, " the stone that covered the tomb was broken and thrown aside as useless into the ad- joining cloisters." 68, 507. — factions. Guelphs and Ghibellines. 69, 532. — her pyramid. The tombs of the Medici. 542. — dome of art. The picture galleries of the Uffizi and Pitti palaces. 551. — Thrasimene (thras y me' ne). Here Hannibal, the Car- thagenian general, defeated the Romans, B. C. 217. 70, 584. — Sanguinetto. "The bloody rivulet," flowing into the lake. 71, 586. — Clitumnus. A river of Italy celebrated for its sanc- tity and beauty. Byron has said, "No book of travels has omitted to expatiate on the temple of the Clitumnus." (Line 595). 590. — milk-white steer. The waters of certain rivers were supposed to possess the quality of making the cattle which drank from them white. 612. — disgust. Tastelessness. 72, 614. — Velino. Near the mouth of the Velino River, Italy, are the famous Falls of Terni, celebrated for their beauty. 620. — Phlegethon {fleg' e tlwn). "The flaming," in Greek mythology. One of the four rivers of Hades. 73, 653. — lauwine. See 1. 106, n; the form is singular. 204 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS 654. — Jungfrau {yoong' frow). "The Virgin" — a mountain of the Bernese Alps; it was not ascended till 1811. 656. — Mount Blanc. The highest mountain of the Alps; its most famous glacier is the Mer de glace. 657. — Chimari. The Ceraunian Mountains of north-western Eph'us. 658. — The Acroceraunian. "The thunder-smitten peaks" — the promontory of north-eastern Epirus; also the Ceraunian Mountains, of which it is a spur. 659. — Parnassus. In Phocis, Greece; in Greek mythology, the haunt of Apollo and the Muses. 662. — Ida. In Phrygia, Asia Minor, scene of the story of the choice of Paris. — Trojan's eye. The plains of Troy extended to the slopes of Mount Ida. 663.— Athos. " The Holy Mount " at the end of the promon- tory on Athos, Thrace. — Olympus. On the borders of Macedonia and Thessaly; in Greek mythology, the home of the gods. — ^tna. In Sicily. — Atlas. The mountain range of Morocco, Algeria, and Tunis. 665. — Soracte. The modern Mont Sant' Oreste, a de- tached mountain in Italy, near Rome, famous for a temple of Apollo on its summit. Horace celebrates its snows. 666. — the lyric Roman. Horace, because of his Odes and Epodes. 74, 674. — drilled dull lesson. "I wish to express that we become tired of the task before we comprehend the beauty; that we learn by rote before we can get by heart; that the fresh- ness is worn away and the future pleasure and advantage dead- ened and destroyed by the didactic anticipation, at an age when we can neither feel nor understand the power of compositions which it requires an acquaintance with life, as well as Latin and Greek, to relish or to reason upon." (B.) 75, 699. — cypress. Because of its gloomy fohage it is sym- bolic of mourning. 703. — Niobe. Niobe boasted of her twelve children and saw them all slain by anger of the gods. 707. — Scipio's tomb. The tomb of the Scipios was discovered in 1780. The bones were collected and moved by Angelo Quirini to his villa at Padua. NOTES 205 712.— The Goth. Alaric; Gcnseric; the Vitigcs; Totila. — the Christian. Churches were built out of the stones and decorations of old temples. 716. — the Capitol. The hill on which the temple of Jupiter stood. 76, 728. — Eureka. "I have it"; the cry of Archimedes in discovering a way to test the purity of the crown of Hiero of Syracuse. 732. — Brutus. The head of the conspiracy which effected the death of Julius Caesar. 734.— Tully. Marcus Tullius Cicero. — Virgil's lay. The Mneid, an epic glorifying the legends of the founding of Rome. 735. — Livy. The greatest of Roman historians. 739. — Fortune's wheel. One of the oldest symbols in liter- ature, signifying the instability of fortune. 740. — Sylla. L. Cornelius Sulla, the victorious opponent of Marius and master of Rome. 743. — eagles. The eagle was the emblem of Rome; the Roman standard was a gilt eagle borne on a lance. 77, 759. — swept off senates. Cromwell dissolved the Long Parhament, 1553. 764. — day of double victory. "On the third of September Cromwell gained the \ictory of Dunbar; a year afterward he obtained 'his crowning mercy ' of Worcester; a few years after, on the same day, which he had ever esteemed the most fortu- nate for him, he died." (B.) 78, 775. — dread statue. The statue of Pompcy, now in the Spada palace, popularly supposed to be the one in the Curia of Pompey, at whose base "great Caesar fell." 784. — thunder-stricken nurse. The bronze image of the wolf that nursed Romulus and Remus, legendary founders of Rome. It was struck by lightning at the time of the conspiracy of Catiline. The statue is in the Museum of the Capitol. 800. — one vain man. Napoleon. What is the character of Napoleon, drawn here for us by Byron? Is Byron a sympathizer with Napoleon and his work? Why was Napoleon " vanquished by himself"? 79, 809. — Alcides. Hercules, son of Alceus, took service as a woman with Omphale, queen of Lydia, while she wore his lion's skin. 810. — Cleopatra's feet. Caesar pursued Antony to Egypt 206 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS and there was captivated by the charms of Cleopatra whom he restored to the throne of Egypt. 811. — came — and saw — and conquered. Csesar's laconic description of his conquest of Pharnaces II, Iving of Pontus. 828. — Renew thy rainbow. An allusion to Genesis ix, 13. Stanzas XOIII-XOVII. In these stanzas Byron states his view regarding the revulsion in feeling after the French Rev- olution and the Napoleonic Wars. What is his position? 81, 866. Saturnalia. Strictly a Roman festival of harvest marked by revelry; here scenes like the outbreak of the Reign of Terror in the French Revolution. Explain the references in stanza XCVI, especially Columbia, Pallas, Washington. Pallas Athene sprang fully armed from the head of Zeus. What is the contrast between this and the fol- lowing stanza? 82, 883. — stern round tower. See 1. 926, n. The tomb of Cecilia Metella. Why is this dwelt upon by Byron? 904. — Cornelia. The mother of the Gracchi. 905. — Egypt's graceful queen. Cleopatra. 83, 917. — Hesperus. The evening star; here the hectic glow of the cheek. 926. — Metella. Wife of Crassus; her tomb, an immense round tower, is on the Appian Way four miles from the city gates. Stanzas CVI-CXIX. Some of the ruins of Rome, the Pala- tine Hill, Columns of Phocas and Trajan, the Capitol, Forum, the Fountain of Egeria. 85, 987. — Titus. The Arch of Titus, in the Via Sacra, com- memorating the capture of Jerusalem. 989. — apostolic statues. The column of Trajan is surmounted by St. Peter; that of AureUus by St. Paul. 86, 991. — Buried in air. Referring to the legend that the great emperor Trajan's ashes were contained in the head of the spear held by the colossal statue which had originally sur- mounted the column. 1000.— rock of triumph. The Capitol. 1001 . — steep Tarpeian. The Tarpeian Rock, a steep clifT from which criminals were hurled. 87, 1018. — the latest tribune. Rienzi (1313-1354), a most celebrated Italian patriot, the hero of a famous novel by Bulwer Lytton (1835). 1026. — Numa. Numa Pompihus, a legendary king of Rome, to whom many of its institutions were ascribed. NOTES 207 1027 — Egeria. A woodland nymph who gave wi.sdom to Numa;" their meeting-place was the so-called Giotto of Lgena near the Appian Road about two miles from Rome. It con- tains a headless statue reported to be that of the nymph. 1031 — nympholepsy. "May be paraphrased as ecstatic vision.' The Greeks feigned that one who had seen a nymph was henceforth possessed by her image and beside himself with longing for an impossible ideal." (E. H. C.) Stanzas CXX-CXXVn. Love— its ideals and its realities. Did Byron really have such a gloomy conception of life^ 91 1129— upas. A tree of the Malayan islands; it yields a poisonous sap and was reported to poison those who ap- ^^ mS^- couch. A term of surgery— to remove a cataract from ^^IHT— Coliseum. The Colosseum by moonlight has long been considered one of the most beautiful sighte in the world Goethe wrote in 1787 : " Of the beauty of a walk through Rome by moonlight, it is impossible to form a conception. Peculiariy beautiful at such a time is the Coliseum." See also Hawthorne s Marble Faun, chapters xvi-xvii. rXXXI? What does Byron ask of Time, stanzas CXXX and CXXAi 927ll79.-tWs iron in my soul. Cf. Psalm cv, 18 (Episcopal ^ta^^tlSS. Furies. The Erinyes of Greek and Furies of Roman m^-thology; fearful beings, relentless m pumshment of ^"n84.— Orestes. Orestes slew his mother for murder and adultery and was pursued by the Furies. ,, ^ , . , _„ 1189 -It is not that I, etc. "It wa^ true that his hopes were 'sapped' and 'his name blighted' and it was natural if not her^c, first to persuade himself that his suffenngs ex- ceeded his fault, that he was more sinned against than smnmg, ant so persuad;d, to take care that he should not suffer alone^ The general purport of plea and indictment is plam enough but the exact interpretation of his phrases, t^e appropriation of^s dark sayings, belong rather to the biography of the poet than to a commentary on his poems." (E. H. C.) 94 1221 —Janus. The doubled-faced Roman sun-god. 95! 1243.-the buzz. "When one gladiator wounded an- other, he shouted 'He has it,' 'Hoc habet' or Habet. The wounded combatant dropped his weapon and advancmg to 208 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS the edge of the arena, suppHcated the spectators. If he had fought well, the people saved him, if otherwise, or as they hap- pened to be inclined, they turned down their thumbs and he was slain." (H.) 1247. — Circus. The circle (L. circus, circle) of the Colosseum. 1252. — the Gladiator. This famous statue is now usually called "The Dying Gaul," and is to be found in the Capitoline Museum at Rome. These lines are among the most famous that Byron wrote. Why are they so popular? 96, 1266. — Dacian. Dacia. A province of Rome on the north bank of the Danube. 1279. — from its mass. The chief agent of destruction of the Colosseum was the earthquake of 1349 when the whole of the western side fell and made hills of travertine which supplied Rome with building material for centuries. 97, 1293. — laurels . . . Caesar. " Suetonius informs us that Julius Caesar was particularly gratified by that decree of the senate which enabled him to wear a wreath of laurel on all occasions. He was anxious not to show that he was the con- queror of the world, but to hide that he was bald." (B.) 1297. — " While stands the Coliseum." "This is quoted [from Bede] in The Decline and Foil of the Roman Empire as a proof that the Colosseum was entire when seen by the Anglo- Saxon pilgrims at the end of the seventh or the beginning of the eighth century." 1307. — Shrine of all saints. Its name as a church was Santa Maria ad Martyres. 98, 1314.— Pantheon. Temple " of all the gods." "The Pan- theon had been made a receptacle for the busts of modern great or, at least, distinguished men." (B.) It was built at Rome, completed in 27 B. C. and consecrated to the divine ancestors of the Julian family. Stanzas CXLVIII-CLI. The legend of the young mother who was thus enabled to save her father, condemned to death by starvation. It is associated with the Church of St. Nicholas in Carcere. 99, 1351. — starry fable. From the fable of Heracles; the milk of Hera, when she pushed the infant Hercules from her made the Milky Way (Galaxy). Stanzas CLII-CLXm. These stanzas describe the Monu- ment of Hadrian, (now the Castle of St. Angelo), St. Peter's, The Laocoon, the Apollo Belvidere. NOTES ^00 100, 1370. — Diana's marvel. The temple of Diana at Ephc- 8US. 1371. — martyr's tomb. The rehcs of St. Peter under the high altar. 1373. — wilderness. The plains of the Cayster, Asia Minor. 1375. — Sophia. The mosque of St. Sophia at Constantinople, originally the metropolitaa church of the Greek Christians. 1381. — Zion. The tem])le of Jerusalem. 101, 1395.— Holy of Holies. Is this praise of St. Peter's jus- tified? 1404. — the clouds. Michael Angelo in planning the dome boasted that he would build the Pantheon in air. 102, 1432. — the Vatican. The palace of the pope. 1433. — Laocoon {la ok' o on). The famous group in the Vatican, Rome, showing the Trojan priest of Apollo and his two young sons enveloped and bitten to death by ser- pents. The incident is told by Vergil in the second book of the Mneid. 1441. — Lord of the unerring bow. The statue of the Apollo Belvidere is also in the Vatican. The god, after his struggle with the python, stands forth proud and disdainful, the left hand holding a bow and the right hand falling as of one who had just shot an arrow. Why is he called the god of life, poesy, and Hght? Does Byron's description help us to see and under- stand the statue? 103, 1459. — Prometheus. The famous myth of Prometheus who stole fire from the gods for the sake of mortals. 1468. — the Pilgrim. Byron returns to Childe Harold, not mentioned before in this canto. 104, 1494. — fardels. Burdens. Stanzas CLXVn-CLXXn. These stanzas are a sort of dirge on what was felt to be a national calamity, the death of Char- lotte Augusta (1817) only daughter of the Prince Regent, who afterward became George IV. 105, 1497. — a nation bleeds, etc. Princess Charlotte died in childbirth; the child Uved but a moment. What do you con- sider to be the regard in which the Princess was held by the Enghsh people? Why is she spoken of as freedom's Iris in line 1519? 107, 1549.— Nemi. The lake near Mt. Albano. "The basin of Lake Nemi is the crater of an extinct volcano. Hence the comparison to a coiled snake." (E. H. C.) 210 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS 1562. — "Arms and the man." The beginning of the ^Tieid, the epic on the war of iEneas and Turnus, prince of Latium. 1564. — Tnlly. Marcus TuUius Gcero. 1566. — Sabine farm. Horace's Sabine farm was north-east of the Alban Mountains. 1571. — midland. Mediterranean. 1574. — Calpe's Rock. Gibraltar. 108, 1576. — Symplegades. " In the legend of the Argonauts, two movable rocky islets at the entrance of the Bosporus into the Black Sea." Also called Cyanean, "dark-blue." Stanzas CLXXVII-CLXXXIV. Apostrophe to the ocean. Is this passage deservedly popular? Is Byron sincere in his pref- erence expressed here? What interests Byron in the sea? 109, 1605. — Man marks, etc. Translated from Mme. de Stael's Corinne, I, iv. 1620. — Can you justify this line? 1629. — Trafalgar. Scene of Nelson's victory over the French, 1805. Ill, 1672, — sandal-shoon. A pair of sandals. — scallop-shell. A shell found on the coast of Palestine and worn by pilgrims as evidence of their pilgrimage to the Holy Land. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS When was this poem written? What does Childe in Childe Harold mean? Does Byron in the Fourth Canto give his own opinions and tell what he has seen and done? In what respects is this poem like anything else that he has written? What passages show his love for Italy, love for a past age, desire for freedom? From this poem, what remains in your memory — particular passages of description, Byron's melancholy, memorable lines? What is the moral value of the poem? How would you describe Byron's style — his descriptions of nature and of buildings, his figures of speech, the impressive- ness of the words which he uses? What is the form of the stanza? What are the three best passages in the poem? How would you contrast Childe Harold, The Prisoner of Chilian, and Mazeppa in the power of holding your atten- NOTES 211 tion, in making you reflect upon the greatness of the past, in making you see a series of exciting incidents, in stirring your sympathy? THE PRISONER OF CHILLON The Prisoner of Chillon was written in 1816 very soon after Byron had left England for the last time. Not until after he wrote the poem was he familiar with the history of the illustri- ous prisoner, Bonnivard, " I was not sufficiently aware of the history of Bonnivard or I should have endeavored to dignify the subject by an attempt to celebrate his courage and his \drtues." The site of the dungeon, which he saw on a visit to Chillon, was enough to fire the imagination of a revolutionary poet like Byron to make the famous castle a setting for the poem. Bonnivard was born in 1496; he was prior of St. Victor, near Geneva; he supported the cause of the republic of Geneva against the Duke of Savoy and became the martyr of his country and of liberty. 112, 4. — as men's have grown. " Ludovico Sforza and others. The same is asserted of Marie Antoinette, the wife of Louis the Sixteenth, although not quite in so short a period. Grief is said to have the same effect; to such and not to fear, this change in hers w^as to be attributed." (B.) 113, 17. — We were seven. The Bonnivard of history had but two brothers. 27. — Gothic mould. The style of architecture with pointed arches, prevalent in Europe in the 13th to 16th centuries. 28. — Chillon. "The Chateau de Chillon is situated between Clarens and Villeneuve which last is at one extremity of the Lake of Geneva (Lake Leman). On its left are the entrances of the Rhone, and opposite are the heights of Meillerie and the range of the Alps above Bouveret and St. Guigo. "Near it on a hill behind, is a torrent; below it, washing its walls, the lake has been fathomed to the depth of eight hundred feet; within it are a range of dungeons in which the early re- formers, and subsequently prisoners of state, were confined. Across one of the vaults is a beam, black with age, on which we were informed that the condemned were formerly executed. In the cells are seven pillars, or rather eight, one being half merged in the walls; in some of these are the rings for the fetters 212 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS and the fettered. In the pavement, the steps of Bonnivard have left their traces. He was confined here several years. . . . The chateau is large and seen along the lake for a great distance. The walls are white." (B.) 114, 63. — dreary tone. We are told in Milner's Gallenj of Geography that the voices of Arctic explorers take on a sepul- chral tone after long residence in those regions. Stanza IX. Perhaps the best stanza in the poem. In what consists Byron's power of language? Stanza X. This offers a relief after stanza IX. 124, 336. — the blue Rhone. The Rhone does not become "blue" until it leaves the lake at Geneva. 339-341. — the white-walled distant town. Villeneuve. "Be- tween the entrances of the Rhone and Villeneuve, not far from Chillon, is a very small island, the only one I could perceive, in my voyage around and over the lake within its circumference. It contains a few trees (I think not above three) and from its singleness and diminutive size has a peculiar effect upon the view." (B.) SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS Explain the following words: yore (66), sooth (100), boon (152), corse (153), wist (237). Do you find alliteration in this poem? Where? Why is this poem sometimes called a fable? How may this poem be regarded as a plea for freedom and an indictment against tyranny? Was it possible for the incidents of this poem to happen? Does the story continue in interest through its fourteen stanzas? Is this true of the last three stanzas? Is there special appropriateness in the mention of the eagle (353), the spider (381), the mice (383)? Why do you like The Prisoner of Chillon? MAZEPPA Of the time of Byron's writing Mazeppa we are not positive. We have his letter of the 24th of September, 1818, in which he says the poem was still to finish and we know that it was pub- lished June 28, 1819. Mazeppa is a legend of the Ukraine. The Ukraine is a region in Russia lying chiefly in the valley of the middle Dnieper. It NOTES 2i:i was for a lonp; timo the object of contention between Polan.l and Russia. For a while it was governed by Poland, then b\ Russia, tlieir ruler being selected by the court at Moscow. Ivan Mazeppa (1044-1709) was chosen by Russia to fill thai I)osition in 1707, and for a time enjoyed the favor of Peter the Cireat, who gave him the title of Prince of Ukraine. The fa- mous ride described by Byron occurred before this. Having been detected in an intrigue with a Polish lady of rank,.he was, by order of her husband, bound naked on the back of a wild horse and driven out from the Ukraine. Mazeppa committed suicide by taking poison shortly after the battle of Pultova, that is, soon after the story that Byron represents him as telling. The poem represents the incidents following the battle of Pultowa or Poltova on the Vorskia River, July 8, 1709. The Russians under Peter the GVeat defeated and routed the Swedes under Charles XII. This battle marks the decUne of the power of the Swedes and the rise of Russia. A few days before the battle King Charles had been riding at some distance from the camp when a bullet struck him and penetrated his foot. Thus it was necessary for him to be placed on a litter before the lines of his army. In the fight the litter was smashed by a cannon-ball and was replaced by a rudely improvised bed of crossed poles, which the soldiers car- ried when the Swedes were forced to flee. The second stanza of the poem describes the king as being laid at the foot of the tree and his companions, sad and dis- heartened, sitting together and trying to find some common solace in their time of distress. The king, generous, patient, and smiling through all, praises the courage, strength, and deeds of Mazeppa and inquires where he learned to ride so well. Be- ing urged, Mazeppa tracks "his seventy years of memory back," and picks out the following story from his twentieth spring. Accordingly, the remainder of the poem presents the thrilling ride of Mazeppa, and closes abruptly with the discovery that the king has fallen asleep. 126, 9. — until a day. The retreat of Napoleon from Russia a little more than one hundred years later, in 1812. There are many references in Byron's poetry to Napoleon and his stirring times. 23. — Gieta. An oflScer in the Swedish army. 128, 56.— Hetman. A Cossack chief. 214 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS 71. — Tartar-like. Why does Byron describe so minutely Mazeppa's careful attention to his horse? 82. — powder filled the pan. In old guns or pistols, the hollow part of the flintlock in which the priming was placed. 129, 103. — Alexander. The famous king of Macedon; Buceph- alus was his favorite horse. 105. — Scythia. A region which is now southern Russia and Roumania, inhabited by the Scythians, notorious for their inva- sions and cruel devastations. 106. — pricking. Riding. "A gentle knight was pricking on the plain," — Spenser, F eerie Queene, I, i. 116. — Borysthenes. The Greek name for the Dnieper, a river in Russia flowing into the Black Sea. 130, 128.— Casimir was king. John Casimir (1609-1672), King of Poland. On account of his fairness in taking sides with the Cossacks against his own people he earned the charac- ter of being an unwarlike and effeminate prince. Why is he here called "the Polish Solomon?" 135. — Warsaw's diet. Warsaw was the capital of Poland; diet, the name of the national assembly. 131, 154. — Thyrsis. A shepherd in the idyls of Theocritus, the Sicilian poet. It came to be a conamon name for any shep- herd poet. 155. — Palatine. A Count Palatine, or count of a border county. {Pal-, pale.) 157. — Rich as a salt. " This comparison of a ' salt mine ' may, perhaps, be permitted to a Pole, as the wealth of the country consists greatly in the salt mines." (B.) 132, 203. — Methinks it glides. Do you see the beauty of Theresa? Or is it romantic love that Byron describes? 181-357. — Stanzas V-Vin. Does anything in these stanzas make you suspect that the author is the same man who wrote The Prisoner of Chillon ? 136, 319-320. — devil. Is this a good rhyme — devil: civil? How was devil sometimes pronounced? 137, 349. — 'scutcheon. Escutcheon; the surface on which armorial bearings are displayed. 354. — 'Sdeath. An oath, a contraction of God's death, very common in Shakespeare's day; cf. 'sblood, zounds (God's wounds), 'snails. 139, 394. — castle gate. The romantic poems of Spenser, Scott, and Byron are full of long descriptions of the castles Vi NOTES 215 of feudal times. Can you recall some one from vScott's poetry? 419-422. — There never yet, etc. The thought of these lines is the theme of some of the greatest, dramas and novels. 140, 437. — Spahi. A Turkish cavalryman. 439. — The sky, etc. Much of the impression made by nature is due to the mood of the observer. IIow is that brought out here? 141, 464-520. — Stanza XII. Wliat of this description do you best remember? Is there an appropriateness in describing the wolves toward the end of the stanza? See Browning's poem, Ivan Ivanovitch. 142, 507. — courser. Mazeppa calls his horse a courser (507), wild horse (582), elsewhere, steed (603), brute (606), wretch (710). Is there appropriateness in these different names? 145ff, 601-652. — Stanzas XV-XVI. How does the poet in these stanzas most effectively picture the fatigue and exhaus- tion of the horse? 146, 619. — ignis-fatuus. Will-o'-the-wisp. 147flE, 653-762. Stanza XVII. How do the descriptions in Tlie Ancie7it Mariner compare with these? 658. — Nor dint of hoof. Would a man in such a state note such details as the lack of the hoof-print, the luxuriant soil, not a sound of insect or bird, and all the details of the wild horses? 664. — werst. More commonly written verst, Russian meas- urement of length, about three thousand feet. 152, 796-839. — Stanza XIX. Why is there such a pleasing contrast in the description of this stanza as compared with the preceding stanza? 154, 859. — As I shall yield when safely there. "By noon the battle was over. . . . The retreat began toward evening. . . . The King, Mazeppa, and about one thousand men crossed the Dnieper. . . . The King, with the Russian cavalry in hot pursuit, rode as fast as he could to the Bug, where half his escort was captured and he barely escaped. Thence he went to Bender, on the Dniester, and for five years remained the guest of Turkey." — Peter the Great, by Eugene Schuyler. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS How long did the ride last? What part of the ride do you like best? 216 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS What feelings of the rider are described? What are some of the most suggestive words? Why does Byron have King Charles go to sleep before the end of the story? DON JUAN Byron began the first canto of Don Juan (pronounced by Byron to rime with ruin, but in Spanish hwdn') in the autumn of 1818. The last work which he ever did was the part of the seventeenth canto which he wrote in 1823. The name of this poem was taken from Don Juan, according to Spanish tradition, a profligate nobleman of Seville, '' a Titan of embodied evil, the likeness of sin made flesh." All else is original with Byron. As the poet has conceived him, he is a hero of rank and fortune, wit and talent, acquired knowledge and liberal accomphshments, together with beauty of person, vigorous health and natural passion. Byron's characterization passes lightly from the humorous to the satiric, from the play- ful to the serious, now dignified, now well-nigh vulgar. According to Mr. E. H. Coleridge, the author's purpose was "not only to celebrate, but by the white light of truth to repre- sent and exhibit the great things of the world. Love and War and Death by sea and land, and man, half angel, half demon, the comedy of his fortunes and the tragedy of his passions and his fate." Don JuAin has won great praise from many worthy critics. Scott said that its author " has embraced every topic of human life and sounded every string of the divine harp from its slightest to its most powerful and heart-astounding tones " ; Goethe called it "a work of boundless genius"; Shelley wrote, "this poem carries with it at once the stamp of originality and defiance of imitation. Nothing has ever been written Hke it in English." Childe Harold, in its four cantos, consists of three distinct poems descriptive of three successive journeys into foreign lands; in Don Juan, the story is continuous, presenting con- sistently the personality of a hero. In this volume of selections from Byron's poems, we have printed the shipwreck which forms the greater part of the sec- ond canto. The following note by Moore is interesting in con- nection with the origin of the shipwreck story: "In 1799, while Lord Byron was the pupil of Dr. Glennie at Dulwich, among the books that lay accessible to the boys was a pamphlet, entitled NOTES 217 Narralivc of the Shipwreck of tfie. Juno on the Coast of Arrocon in tlie Year 1795. The pamphlet attracted but Httlc public attention; but among the young students of Dulwich Grove, it was a favorite study, and the impressions which it left on the retentive mind of Byron may have had some share, perhaps, in suggesting that curious research through all the various ac- counts of shipwrecks upon record by which he prepared himself to depict with such power a scene of the same description in Don J2ian." In a letter to his friend, Murray, the publisher, he wrote, "with regard to the charges about the shipwreck, I think that . I told you and Mr. Hobhouse years ago that there was not a circumstance of it not taken from fact; not, indeed, from any single shipwreck but all from actual facts of different wrecks." (August 23, 1^21.) Byron's grandfather was wrecked off the Straits of Magellan and left an account of which these verses have echoes. The following is a brief synopsis of the second canto: Stanzas I-XXV. After a disgraceful act committed by Juan, his mother Inez sends him to Cadiz where, with three servants and a tutor Pedrillo, he embarks for England, reluctantly leav- ing his native country Spain and his beloved Julia. Stanzas XXVI-CXI describe the storm and shipwreck (we have omitted from our text stanzas 73-83 which portray with terrible vividness the killing and eating of the tutor, Pedrillo.) Stanzas CXII-CCXVI. — The recovery of Juan, discovered by a girl and her attendant. The former named Haidee was the daughter of an old Greek pirate and the greatest heiress of the Eastern Isles. Her attendance upon Juan results in pas- sionate love between the two. SUGGESTIVE QUESTIONS Is Byron especially fond of the sea? Refer to passages which show his power in describing the sea. What is his special ability, as shown in the shipwreck passage? "WTiat is the impression upon the reader made by the narra- tive or any part of it? Are his words suggestive of color, sound, beauty? Does this narrative remind one of Coleridge's Ancient Mari- ner .? Cf stanzas 84, 94, 102. Do you think Byron is as effective in suggesting mystery as Coleridge was? 218 BYRON'S SELECT POEMS THE ISLES OF GREECE The sixteen stanzas so well known under this title are repre- sented as being sung by a minstrel poet at a banquet. They appear in the third canto of Don Juan, which continues from canto second the experiences of Juan and Haidee during the absence of her father, the banquet at which the minstrel sings and the father returns and discovers his daughter ap- parently very happy over her father's long absence. 180, 2. — Sappho. The famous poetess of ancient Greece. 4. — Delos. Supposed to be the birthplace of Apollo. — Phoebus. A common name for Apollo. 7. — The Scian muse and the Teian muse. The former. Homer, because he was by some supposed to have been born at Scio; the latter, Anacreon, born at Teos. 12. — "Islands of the Blest." The Fortunate Islands, now sup- posed to refer to the Cape Verde Islands, or the Canaries. 13. — Marathon. The scene of the Persian defeat, by the Athenians under Miltiades, 490 B. C. The references to Xerxes and Thermopylse continue the glorious memories of ancient Greek history. 181, 20. — Salamis. In 480 B, C. Xerxes invaded Greece, gained the pass of Thermopylae defended by Leonidas, but was defeated ofif the island of Salamis, by the Athenian fleet under Themistocles. 182, 50. — Samian wine. Famous wine from the island of Samos off the coast of Asia Minor. 52. — Scio. An island off the coast of Asia Minor; in classic Greek times called Chios. 54. — Bacchanal. Celebrant of the festival of Bacchus, god of wine. 55. — Pyrrhic dance. An ancient Greek dance practiced by the soldiers while armed; it was accompanied by the flute. 59. — Cadmus. According to tradition, the founder of Thebes and the inventor of the alphabet. 63. — Anacreon. Greek lyrical poet of love. 64. — Poly crates. Ruler of Samos from about 536 to 522; a patron of literature and art. 183, 67. — Chersonese. Often mentioned in ancient literature, the land lying along the European side of the Hellespont. 74. — Suli's rock. A strong Turkish fortress, in Epirus. — Parga. A town and fortress of Turkey, in Epirus. NOTES 219 77. — Doric. Thn Dorians wore a branch of flic (ircok race settled in Arfz;()s. Sparta, and Corinth. 78. — Heracleidan. Dt'sccndod from Heracles (Hercules). 71). Franks. Tlie I'rencli. 184, 91. — Sunium. The beautiful ti-mple-crowned promon- tory between the /Egean and the Gulf of JCgina. 94. — swan-like. Tlie Greek myth is that the swan sings while dyintj. INDEX TO THE NOTES Accademia della Crusca, 201 Acroceraunian, the, 204 Address Spoken at the Opening of Drurij-Lane Theatre, 188 ^neid, 205 ^tna, 204 Alcides, 205 Alexander, 214 Alfieri, 197. 203 All Is Vanity, 192 Anacreon, 218 Anchises, 203 Ancient Mariner, The, 215 Angelo, Michael, 203, 209 Antoinette, Marie, 211 Apollo, 218 apostolic statues, 206 Archimedes, 205 Ariosto, 195, 201, 202 "Arms and the man," 210 Arqua, 201 Ashur, 194 Askalon, 185 Assyrian, The, 194 Athens' armies, 200 Athos, 204 Atlas, 204 Bacchanal, 218 Banquo, 188 Barbarossa, Frederick, 199 Bards of Hell and Chivalry, 202 Boccaccio, 194, 201, 203 Boileau, 201 Boonivard, 211 Borysthenes, 214 Braemar, 187 Brenta, 201 Bridge of Sighs, The. 198 Brinsley, 188 Browning, 201, 215 Brutus, 205 Bucentaur, The, 199 Bucephalus, 214 buried in air, 206 buzz, 207 By the Rivers of Babylon, etc., 193 by-word, 200 Cadmus, 218 Csesar, Juliu.s, 205, 208 Calpe's Rock, 210 Calypso's Isles, 187 "came and saw and conquered," 206 Candia, 200 Canova, 203 Capitol. The, 205. 206 Casimir, 214 castle-gate. 214 cell, 201 Charlotte, Princess. 209 Chersonese, 218 Childe Harold, 195, 216 Chillon, 211 Chimari, 20-1 choral memory, 200 Christian, the, 205 Cicero, 202, 210 Circus, 208 Cleopatra, 205, 206 Clitumnus, 203 clouds. 209 Coleridge, E. H., 194. 216 Coliseum, 207. 208 Columbia. 206 Cornelia, 206 couch, 207 creaking lyre, 202 Cressy, 185 Cromwell, 205 Cruscan quire, 201 Culloden, 187 Cybele, 198 cypress, 204 Dacian, 208 Dandolo, 200 Dante, 201, 202, 203 Dardan Shepherd, 202 day of double victory, 205 Decameron, The, 203 Delos, 218 Denis, St., 199 Destruction of Sennacherib, The, 193 devil, 214 Diana's marvel, 209 Dian's crest, 201 dint of hoof, 215 disgust, 203 Divine Comedy, The, 203 dogeless, 199 Don Juan, 216, 218 Doria's menace, 200 Doric, 219 dread statue, 205 dreary tone, 212 221 222 INDEX TO THE NOTES drilled dull lesson. 204 Duke of Savoy, 211 eagles, 205 Egeria, 207 Egypt's graceful queen, 206 Emperor sued, 199 Este, 201 Etrurian Athens, 202 Etruscan three, 203 Eureka, 205 Euripides, 200 factions, 203 fardels, 209 Ferrara, 201 fighting, Byron's, 186 Filicaja, 202 Florence, 187 Fortune's wheel, 205 Franks, 219 Friuli's mountains, 201 Furies, 207 Galileo, 203 Garrick, David, 186 Gazelle, the Wild, 189 George, St., 199 Gerusalemme Liberata, 198, 199 Ghost-Seer, The, 200 Gieta, 213 Gladiator, The, 208 Glennie, Dr., 216 Goddess, The, 202 Goethe, 216 Goldsmith's Citizen of the World, 196 Goth, the, 205 Gothic mould, 211 Guelph and Ghibellines, 203 Hannibal, 203 Harp the Monarch Minstrel Swept, The, 189 Harrow, 185 Hawthorne's Marble Faun, 207 Hebrew Melodies, 188 Heracleidan, 219 Hercules, 205, 219 Herod's Lament for Mariamne, 193 Hesperus, 206 Hetman, 213 Hobhouse, John. 195, 198, 217 Holy of Holies, 209 Homer, 218 Horace, 204, 210 Horistan, 185 Ida, 186, 204 ignis fatuus, 215 Ill-starred, 186 Iris of the West, 201 iron in my soul, 207 / Saw Thee Weep, 101 Islands of the Blest, 218 Isles of Greece, The, 218 Italia, 202 Janus, 207 Jephtha's Daughter, 190 Jungfrau, 204 King of Men, the, 189 Laohin y Gair, 186 Laocoon, 209 laurels, 208 lauwine, 200, 203 Lepanto, 200 Livy, 205 Long Parliament, 205 Lord of the unerring bow, 209 lyric, Roman, the, 204 Lytton, Bulwer, 206 Macchiavelli, 203 Marathon, 218 Mark, St , 199 Marston, 185 Martyr's tomb, 209 Mazeppa, 212, 215 Megara, 202 Menander, 188 Merchant of Venice, 200 Metella, 206 midland, 210 milk-white steer, 203 Milman's History of the Jews, 193 Milner's Gallery of Geography, 212 Miltiades. 218 Mont Blanc, 204 Moore, 216 Mossop, Henry, 186 Murray, 199, 217 My Soul is Dark, 191 Mysteries of Udolpho, 200 Napoleon. 205, 213 Narrative of the Shipwreck of the Juno, etc., 217 nation bleeds, i209 Nelson, 210 Nemi, 209 Newstead, 185 Nicholas, St., 208 Niobe, 204 Numa, 206 nympholepsy, 207 Ocean queen, 200 Oh/ Mihi, etc., 186 Oh! Snatched away in Beauty's Bloom, 190 Oh, Weep for Those, 190 Olympus, 204 On Jordan's Banks, 190 INDEX TO THE NOTES '2^2'^ On the Day of the Destruction of Jeru- unlem 6;/ Titus. 193 On this Day I complete my Thirty- sixth Year, 194 Orestes, 207 Ossian, 1H5 Othello. 200 Ottoinite. 200 Otway, 199, 200 Palatine. 214 Pallas, 206 Pantaleon, St.. 200 Pantheon, 208 I'arga, 218 Parnassus, 201 Patrick, St.. 199 Paul, St., 206 Paul's Cathedral. St., 199 Peter. St., 206 Petrarch. 201. 203 Phlegethon. 203 Phabus, 218 Pierre, 199 Pilgrim, the. 209 Pitti Gallery. 203 plaid. 186 Polycrates. 218 Ponipey. 205 Pope, 202 powder filled the pan. 214 Prayer of Nature, 187 pricking, 214 Prisoner of Chilian, The, 211 Prometheus, 194 Prometheus. 209 Pultowa, 213 pyramid, 203 Pyrrhic dance, 218 Radcliffe. Anne. 200 raise a language. 201 red shadow, 188 renew thy rainbow, 206 Revolution. French, 206 Rhaptian hill, the. 201 Rhone, blue, 212 Rialto, the, 199 rich as a salt mine, 214 Rienzi. 206 rock of triumph. 206 Roman friend, 202 Iloscius. 188 Rupert, Prince, 185 Sabine farm. 210 Salamis, 218 Samian wine. 218 sandal-shoon. 210 Sanguinetto. 203 Santa Croce, 203 Sappho. 218 Satraps. 192 Saturnalia. 206 Saul. 191 acallop-shell. 210 sceptred cities, 199 Schiller. 200 Schuyler. Eugenp, Peter theCreat, 215 Scian muse and the Teian muse, the, 218 Scio. 218 Scipio's tomb, 204 Scott. 214 scutcheon. 214 Scythia. 214 'sdeath, 214 Sforza. Ludovico. 211 Shake-^^peare. 199, 200, 214 Shelley. 216 She Walks in Beauty, 189 shrine of all saints, 208 Siddons. 188 Siroc. 187 Song of Saul, 191 Sophia. 209 Soracte, 204 Southern Scott. 202 Spahi. 215 Spartan's epitaph. 199 Spenser. Faerie Queene, 214 Spirit Passed before me, yl, 194 Stael. Madame de, Corinne, 210 Stanzas composed during a Thunder- storm, 187 starry fable, 208 steeds of bra.ss, 200 stem round tower, 206 strange eyes. 199 Suggestive Questions, 210, 212, 215- 216, 217 Suli's rock. 218 Sunium. 219 Swabian, the. 199 swan-like. 219 swept off senates, 205 Sylla. 205 Symplegades. 210 Synopsis of second canto of Don Juan, 217 tannen. 201 Tarpeian, the steep, 206 Tartar-like, 214 Tasso. 198. 201, 202 Temple, the. 199 Theocritus, 214 Thrasimene, 203 thunder-stricken nurse. 205 Thy Days are Done, 191 Thyrsis, 214 Titus, 206 token. 201 To Thomas Moore, 194 Trafalgar. 210 Trajan, 206 224 INDEX TO THE NOTES Tribune, the latest, 206 Trojan's eye, 204 Tully, 205, 210 Tuscan father, 202 Tyre, 200 Uffizi Gallery, the, 202, 203 Ukraine, 212, 213 upas, 207 Vatican, the, 209 Velino, 203 Venice Preserved, 199 Venus de Medici, 202 Virgil's lay, 205 Vision of Belshazzar, 192 Warsaw's diet, 214 Washington, 206 Were Thy Bosom as False, 193 werst, 215 Westminster Abbey, 199. 203 When Coldness Wraps, 192 white-walled distant town, 212 wilderness, 209 wingfed Lion, 198 Xerxes, 218 Zanga, Alonzo, 186 Zion, 209 WAR 7 WW Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 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