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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:16:34 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 02:16:34 -0700 |
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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 2 + +Author: George Gordon Byron + +Editor: Ernest Coleridge + +Release Date: May 5, 2008 [EBook #25340] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF LORD BYRON, VOLUME 2 *** + + + + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Cortesi, and the Online +Distributed Proofreaders Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> + +<div class="titlepage"> + + <h1>The Works<br /> + + <span class="tiny">OF</span><br /> + + <span class="big">LORD BYRON</span>.</h1> + + + <h3>A NEW, REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION,<br /> + + WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.</h3> + + + <h1>Poetry. Vol. II.</h1> + + + <h3><span class="tiny">EDITED BY</span><br /> + + ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE, M.A.,<br /><span class="tiny">HON. F.R.S.L.</span></h3> + + + <h4><span class="small">LONDON:</span><br /> + + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.<br /> + + <span class="small">NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.</span></h4> + + <h4><span class="small">1899</span>.</h4> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<h2 style="font-size:smaller;">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES</h2> + +<p>The source code for this HTML page contains only Latin-1 characters, but +it directs the browser to display some special characters. The original +work contained a few phrases or lines of Greek text. These are +represented here as Greek letters, for example +<span title="Liakyra">Λιακυρα</span>. +If the mouse is held still over such phrases, a transliteration in Beta-code pops up. +Aside from Greek letters, the only unusual characters are +ā (a with macron), ī (i with macron), and ē (e with macron). +</p> + +<p>An important feature of this edition is its copious notes, +which are of three types. Notes indexed with both a number and a letter, +for example [4.B.], are end-notes provided by Byron or, following Canto IV, +by J. C. Hobhouse. These end-notes follow each Canto.</p> + +<p>Both the verse and the end-notes have footnotes, which +are indicated by small raised keys in brackets; these are links to the +footnote's text. Footnotes indexed with arabic numbers (e.g. [17], +[221]) are informational. Footnotes indexed with +letters (e.g. [c], [bf]) document variant forms of the text from +manuscripts and other sources.</p> + +<p>In the original, footnotes were printed at the foot of the page on which +they were referenced, and their indices started over on each page. In +this etext, footnotes have been collected following each canto or +block of end-notes, and have been numbered consecutively throughout. +Text in footnotes and end-notes in square brackets is the work of Editor +E. H. Coleridge. Text not in brackets is by Byron or Hobhouse. In +certain notes on variant text, the editor showed deleted text struck +through with lines, for example <span class="lineout">deleted words</span>.</p> + +<p>Navigation aids are provided as follows. Page numbers are displayed at +the right edge of the window. +To jump directly to page <i>nn</i>, append #Page_<i>nn</i> to the document URL. +To jump directly to the text of footnote <i>xx</i>, either search for [<i>xx</i>] +or append #Footnote_<i>xx</i> to the document URL.</p> + +<p>Within the blocks of footnotes, numbers in braces such as {321} +represent the page number on which following notes originally appeared. +These numbers are also preserved as HTML anchors of the form Note_321. +To find notes originally printed on page <i>nn</i>, either search +for the string {<i>nn</i>} or append #Note_<i>nn</i> to the document URL.</p> + + + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="PREFACE_VOLUME" id="PREFACE_VOLUME"></a> +PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME. +</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> text of the present edition of +<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i> +is based upon a collation of volume i. of +the Library Edition, 1855, with the following MSS.: +(i.) the original MS. of the First and Second Cantos, +in Byron's handwriting [MS. M.]; +(ii.) a transcript +of the First and Second Cantos, in the handwriting of +R. C. Dallas [D.]; +(iii.) a transcript of the Third +Canto, in the handwriting of Clara Jane Clairmont [C.]; +(iv.) a collection of "scraps," forming a first draft +of the Third Canto, in Byron's handwriting [MS.]; +(v.) a fair copy of the first draft of the Fourth Canto, +together with the MS. of the additional stanzas, in +Byron's handwriting. [MS. M.]; +(vi.) a second fair copy +of the Fourth Canto, as completed, in Byron's handwriting [D.].</p> + +<p>The text of the First and Second Cantos has also +been collated with the text of the First Edition of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vi" id="Page_vi">[vi]</a></span> +First and Second Cantos (quarto, 1812); the text of +the Third and of the Fourth Cantos with the texts of the +First Editions of 1816 and 1818 respectively; and the +text of the entire poem with that issued in the collected +editions of 1831 and 1832.</p> + +<p>Considerations of space have determined the position +and arrangement of the notes.</p> + +<p>Byron's notes to the First, Second, and Third +Cantos, and Hobhouse's notes to the Fourth Canto are +printed, according to precedent, at the end of each canto.</p> + +<p>Editorial notes are placed in square brackets. Notes +illustrative of the text are printed immediately below the +variants. Notes illustrative of Byron's notes or footnotes +are appended to the originals or printed as footnotes. +Byron's own notes to the Fourth Canto are printed +as footnotes to the text.</p> + +<p>Hobhouse's "Historical Notes" are reprinted without +addition or comment; but the numerous and intricate +references to classical, historical, and archæological +authorities have been carefully verified, and in many +instances rewritten.</p> + +<p>In compiling the Introductions, the additional notes, +and footnotes, I have endeavoured to supply the reader +with a compendious manual of reference. With the +subject-matter of large portions of the three distinct +poems which make up the five hundred stanzas of +<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i> every one is more or less +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span> +familiar, but details and particulars are out of the +immediate reach of even the most cultivated readers.</p> + +<p>The poem may be dealt with in two ways. It may +be regarded as a repertory or treasury of brilliant passages +for selection and quotation; or it may be read continuously, +and with some attention to the style and +message of the author. It is in the belief that +<i>Childe Harold</i> should be read continuously, and that it gains by +the closest study, reassuming its original freshness and +splendour, that the text as well as Byron's own notes +have been somewhat minutely annotated.</p> + +<p>In the selection and composition of the notes I have, +in addition to other authorities, consulted and made use +of the following editions of <i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage:</i>—</p> + +<p>i. <i>Édition Classique</i>, par James Darmesteter, +Docteur-ès-lettres. Paris, 1882.</p> + +<p>ii. Byron's <i>Childe Harold</i>, edited, with Introduction +and Notes, by H. F. Tozer, M.A. Oxford, 1885 +(Clarendon Press Series).</p> + +<p>iii. <i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>, edited by the Rev. +E.C. Everard Owen, M.A. London, 1897 (Arnold's British Classics).</p> + +<p>Particular acknowledgments of my indebtedness to +these admirable works will be found throughout the volume.</p> + +<p>I have consulted and derived assistance from +Professor Eugen Kölbing's exhaustive collation of the +text of the two first cantos with the Dallas Transcript in +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span> +the British Museum (<i>Zur Textüberlieferung von Byron's +Childe Harold, Cantos I., II. Leipsic</i>, 1896); and I am +indebted to the same high authority for information with +regard to the Seventh Edition (1814) of the First and +Second Cantos. (See <i>Bemerkungen zu Byron's Childe +Harold, Engl. Stud.</i>, 1896, xxi. 176-186.)</p> + +<p>I have again to record my grateful acknowledgments +to Dr. Richard Garnett, C.B., Dr. A. S. Murray, F.R.S., +Mr. R. E. Graves, Mr. E. D. Butler, F.R.G.S., and +other officials of the British Museum, for constant help +and encouragement in the preparation of the notes to +<i>Childe Harold.</i></p> + +<p>I desire to express my thanks to Dr. H. R. Mill, +Librarian of the Royal Geographical Society; Mr. J. C. +Baker, F.R.S., Keeper of the Herbarium and Library of +the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew; Mr. Horatio F. Brown +(author of <i>Venice, an Historical Sketch</i>, etc.); Mr. P. A. +Daniel, Mr. Richard Edgcumbe, and others, for valuable +information on various points of doubt and difficulty.</p> + +<p>On behalf of the Publisher, I beg to acknowledge +the kindness of his Grace the Duke of Richmond, in +permitting Cosway's miniature of Charlotte Duchess of +Richmond to be reproduced for this volume.</p> + +<p>I have also to thank Mr. Horatio F. Brown for the +right to reproduce the interesting portrait of "Byron at +Venice," which is now in his possession.</p> + +<p class="center">ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE.</p> + +<p><i>April</i>, 1899.</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION_FIRST" id="INTRODUCTION_FIRST"></a> +INTRODUCTION TO<br /> +THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS OF<br /> +<i>CHILDE HAROLD</i>. +</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> First Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i> was begun at Janina, in +Albania, October 31, 1809, and the Second Canto was finished +at Smyrna, March 28, 1810. The dates were duly recorded +on the MS.; but in none of the letters which Byron wrote to +his mother and his friends from the East does he mention or +allude to the composition or existence of such a work. In +one letter, however, to his mother (January 14, 1811, <i>Letters</i>, +1898, i. 308), he informs her that he has MSS. in his possession +which may serve to prolong his memory, if his heirs and +executors "think proper to publish them;" but for himself, +he has "done with authorship." Three months later the +achievement of <i>Hints from Horace</i> and <i>The Curse of +Minerva</i> persuaded him to give "authorship" another trial; +and, in a letter written on board the <i>Volage</i> frigate (June +28, <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 313), he announces to his literary Mentor, +R. C. Dallas, who had superintended the publication of +<i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers</i>, that he has "an +imitation of the <i>Ars Poetica</i> of Horace ready for Cawthorne." +Byron landed in England on July 2, and on the 15th Dallas +"had the pleasure of shaking hands with him at Reddish's +Hotel, St. James's Street" (<i>Recollections of the Life of Lord +Byron</i>, 1824, p. 103). There was a crowd of visitors, says +Dallas, and no time for conversation; but the <i>Imitation</i> was +placed in his hands. He took it home, read it, and was disappointed. +Disparagement was out of the question; but the +next morning at breakfast Dallas ventured to express some +surprise that he had written nothing else. An admission or +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[x]</a></span> +confession followed that "he had occasionally written short +poems, besides a great many stanzas in Spenser's measure, +relative to the countries he had visited." "They are not," he +added, "worth troubling you with, but you shall have them +all with you if you like." "So," says Dallas, "came I by +<i>Childe Harold</i>. He took it from a small trunk, with a +number of verses."</p> + +<p>Dallas was "delighted," and on the evening of the same +day (July 16)—before, let us hope, and not after, he had consulted +his "Ionian friend," Walter Rodwell Wright +(see <i>Recollections</i>, p. 151, +and <i>Diary</i> of H.C. Robinson, 1872, i. 17)—he +despatched a letter of enthusiastic approval, which +gratified Byron, but did not convince him of the extraordinary +merit of his work, or of its certainty of success. It was, +however, agreed that the MS. should be left with Dallas, +that he should arrange for its publication and hold the +copyright. Dallas would have entrusted the poem to Cawthorne, +who had published +<i>English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers,</i> +and with whom, as Byron's intermediary, he was +in communication; but Byron objected on the ground that +the firm did not "stand high enough in the trade," and +Longmans, who had been offered but had declined the +<i>English Bards</i>, were in no case to be approached. An +application to Miller, of Albemarle Street, came to nothing, +because Miller was Lord Elgin's bookseller and publisher +(he had just brought out the +<i>Memorandum on Lord Elgin's Pursuits in Greece</i>), +and <i>Childe Harold</i> denounced and +reviled Lord Elgin. But Murray, of Fleet Street, who had +already expressed a wish to publish for Lord Byron, was +willing to take the matter into consideration. On the first +of August Byron lost his mother, on the third his friend +Matthews was drowned in the Cam, and for some weeks he +could devote neither time nor thought to the fortunes of +his poem; but Dallas had bestirred himself, and on the +eighteenth was able to report that he had "seen Murray +again," and that Murray was anxious that Byron's name +should appear on the title-page.</p> + +<p>To this request Byron somewhat reluctantly acceded +(August 21); and a few days later (August 25) he informs +Dallas that he has sent him "exordiums, annotations, etc., +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[xi]</a></span> +for the forthcoming quarto," and has written to Murray, +urging him on no account to show the MS. to Juvenal, that is, +Gifford. But Gifford, as a matter of course, had been already +consulted, had read the First Canto, and had advised Murray +to publish the poem. Byron was, or pretended to be, furious; +but the solid fact that Gifford had commended his work +acted like a charm, and his fury subsided. On the fifth of +September (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 24, note) he received from +Murray the first proof, and by December 14 "the Pilgrimage +was concluded," and all but the preface had been printed +and seen through the press.</p> + +<p>The original draft of the poem, which Byron took out of +"the little trunk" and gave to Dallas, had undergone considerable +alterations and modifications before this date. +Both Dallas and Murray took exception to certain stanzas +which, on personal, or patriotic, or religious considerations, +were provocative and objectionable. They were apprehensive, +not only for the sale of the book, but for the reputation +of its author. Byron fought his ground inch by inch, but +finally assented to a compromise. He was willing to cut out +three stanzas on the Convention of Cintra, which had ceased +to be a burning question, and four more stanzas at the end +of the First Canto, which reflected on the Duke of Wellington, +Lord Holland, and other persons of less note. A stanza +on Beckford in the First Canto, and two stanzas in the +second on Lord Elgin, Thomas Hope, and the "Dilettanti +crew," were also omitted. Stanza ix. of the Second Canto, +on the immortality of the soul, was recast, and "sure and +certain" hopelessness exchanged for a pious, if hypothetical, +aspiration. But with regard to the general tenor of his +politics and metaphysics, Byron stood firm, and awaited the issue.</p> + +<p>There were additions as well as omissions. The first +stanza of the First Canto, stanzas xliii. and xc., which +celebrate the battles of Albuera and Talavera; the stanzas +to the memory of Charles Skinner Matthews, nos. xci., xcii.; +and stanzas ix., xcv.,xcvi. of the Second Canto, which record +Byron's grief for the death of an unknown lover or friend, +apparently (letter to Dallas, October 31, 1811) the mysterious +Thyrza, and others (<i>vide post</i>, <a href="#Page_xvi">note on the MSS. of +the First and Second Cantos</a> of <i>Childe Harold</i>), +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[xii]</a></span> +were composed +at Newstead, in the autumn of 1811. <i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>, +quarto, was published on Tuesday, March 10, +1812—Moore (<i>Life</i>, p. 157) implies that the date of issue was +Saturday, February 29; and Dallas (<i>Recollections</i>, p. 220) +says that he obtained a copy on Tuesday, March 3 (but see +advertisements in the <i>Times</i> and <i>Morning Chronicle</i> of +Thursday, March 5, announcing future publication, and in +the <i>Courier</i> and <i>Morning Chronicle</i> of Tuesday, March 10, +announcing first appearance)—and in three days an edition +of five hundred copies was sold. A second edition, octavo, +with six additional poems (fourteen poems were included in +the First Edition), was issued on April 17; a third on June 27; +a fourth, with the "Addition to the Preface," on September 14; +and a fifth on December 5, 1812,—the day on which Murray +"acquainted his friends" (see advertisement in the <i>Morning +Chronicle</i>) that he had removed from Fleet Street to No. 50, +Albemarle Street. A sixth edition, identical with the fifth +and fourth editions, was issued August 11, 1813; and, on +February 1, 1814 (see letter to Murray, February 4, 1814), +<i>Childe Harold</i> made a "seventh appearance." The seventh +edition was a new departure altogether. Not only were nine +poems added to the twenty already published, but a dedication +to Lady Charlotte Harley ("Ianthe"), written in the autumn +of 1812, was prefixed to the First Canto, and ten additional +stanzas were inserted towards the end of the Second Canto. +<i>Childe Harold</i>, as we have it, differs to that extent from the +<i>Childe Harold</i> which, in a day and a night, made Byron +"famous." The dedication to Ianthe was the outcome of a +visit to Eywood, and his devotion to Ianthe's mother, Lady +Oxford; but the new stanzas were probably written in 1810. +In a letter to Dallas, September 7, 1811 (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. +28), he writes, "I had projected an additional canto when I +was in the Troad and Constantinople, and if I saw them +again, it would go on." This seems to imply that a beginning +had been made. In a poem, a hitherto unpublished +fragment entitled <i>Il Diavolo Inamorato</i> (<i>vide post</i>, vol. iii.), +which is dated August 31, 1812, five stanzas and a half, viz. +stanzas lxxiii. lines 5-9, lxxix., lxxx., lxxxi., lxxxii., xxvii. of the +Second Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i> are imbedded; and these +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[xiii]</a></span> +form part of the ten additional stanzas which were first +published in the seventh edition. There is, too, the fragment +entitled <i>The Monk of Athos</i>, which was first published +(<i>Life of Lord Byron</i>, by the Hon. Roden Noel) in 1890, which +may have formed part of this projected Third Canto.</p> + +<p>No further alterations were made in the text of the poem; +but an eleventh edition of <i>Childe Harold</i>, Cantos I., II., was +published in 1819.</p> + +<p>The demerits of <i>Childe Harold</i> lie on the surface; but it is +difficult for the modern reader, familiar with the sight, if not +the texture, of "the purple patches," and unattracted, perhaps +demagnetized, by a personality once fascinating and always +"puissant," to appreciate the actual worth and magnitude +of the poem. We are "o'er informed;" and as with Nature, +so with Art, the eye must be couched, and the film of association +removed, before we can see clearly. But there is one +characteristic feature of <i>Childe Harold</i> which association and +familiarity have been powerless to veil or confuse—originality +of design. "By what accident," asks the Quarterly Reviewer +(George Agar Ellis), "has it happened that no other English +poet before Lord Byron has thought fit to employ his talents +on a subject so well suited to their display?" The question +can only be answered by the assertion that it was the accident +of genius which inspired the poet with a "new song." +<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i> had no progenitors, and, with +the exception of some feeble and forgotten imitations, it has +had no descendants. The materials of the poem; the Spenserian +stanza, suggested, perhaps, by Campbell's +<i>Gertrude of Wyoming</i>, as well as by older models; the language, the +metaphors, often appropriated and sometimes stolen from the +Bible, from Shakespeare, from the classics; the sentiments +and reflections coeval with reflection and sentiment, wear a +familiar hue; but the poem itself, a pilgrimage to scenes and +cities of renown, a song of travel, a rhythmical diorama, +was Byron's own handiwork—not an inheritance, but a creation.</p> + +<p>But what of the eponymous hero, the sated and melancholy +"Childe," with his attendant page and yeoman, his backward +glances on "heartless parasites," on "laughing dames," on +goblets and other properties of "the monastic dome"? Is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[xiv]</a></span> +Childe Harold Byron masquerading in disguise, or is he +intended to be a fictitious personage, who, half unconsciously, +reveals the author's personality? Byron deals with the question +in a letter to Dallas (October 31): "I by no means intend to +identify myself with <i>Harold</i>, but to <i>deny</i> all connection with +him. If in parts I may be thought to have drawn from myself, +believe me it is but in parts, and I shall not own even +to that." He adds, with evident sincerity, "I would not be +such a fellow as I have made my hero for all the world." +Again, in the preface, "Harold is the child of imagination." +This pronouncement was not the whole truth; but it is truer +than it seems. He was well aware that Byron had sate for +the portrait of Childe Harold. He had begun by calling his +hero Childe Burun, and the few particulars which he gives +of Childe Burun's past were particulars, in the main exact +particulars, of Byron's own history. He had no motive for +concealment, for, so little did he know himself, he imagined +that he was not writing for publication, that he had done +with authorship. Even when the mood had passed, it was +the imitation of the <i>Ars Poetica</i>, not <i>Childe Harold</i>, which +he was eager to publish; and when <i>Childe Harold</i> had been +offered to and accepted by a publisher, he desired and proposed +that it should appear anonymously. He had not as +yet come to the pass of displaying "the pageant of his +bleeding heart" before the eyes of the multitude. But though +he shrank from the obvious and inevitable conclusion that +Childe Harold was Byron in disguise, and idly "disclaimed" +all connection, it was true that he had intended to draw a +fictitious character, a being whom he may have feared he +might one day become, but whom he did not recognize as +himself. He was not sated, he was not cheerless, he was +not unamiable. He was all a-quiver with youth and enthusiasm +and the joy of great living. He had left behind him +friends whom he knew were not "the flatterers of the festal +hour"—friends whom he returned to mourn and nobly +celebrate. Byron was not Harold, but Harold was an ideal +Byron, the creature and avenger of his pride, which haunted +and pursued its presumptuous creator to the bitter end.</p> + +<p><i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i> was reviewed, or rather +advertised, by Dallas, in the <i>Literary Panorama</i> for March, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[xv]</a></span> +1812. To the reviewer's dismay, the article, which appeared +before the poem was out, was shown to Byron, who was +paying a short visit to his old friends at Harrow. Dallas +quaked, but "as it proved no bad advertisement," he escaped +censure. "The blunder passed unobserved, eclipsed by +the dazzling brilliancy of the object which had caused it" +(<i>Recollections</i>, p. 221).</p> + +<p>Of the greater reviews, the <i>Quarterly</i> (No. xiii., March, +1812) was published on May 12, and the <i>Edinburgh</i> (No. 38, +June, 1812) was published on August 5, 1812.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[xvi]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr /> +<h2><a name="NOTES_ON_THE_MSS" id="NOTES_ON_THE_MSS"></a> +NOTES ON THE MSS. OF<br /> +<i>CHILDE HAROLD</i>. +</h2> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> original MS. of the First and Second Cantos of +<i>Childe Harold</i>, consisting of ninety-one folios bound up with a +single bluish-grey cover, is in the possession of Mr. Murray.<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +A transcript from this MS., in the handwriting of R. C. +Dallas, with Byron's autograph corrections, is preserved in +the British Museum (Egerton MSS., No. 2027). The first +edition (4to) was printed from the transcript as emended by +the author. The "Addition to the Preface" was first published +in the Fourth Edition.</p> + +<p>The following notes in Byron's handwriting are on the +outside of the cover of the original MS.:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"Byron—Joannina in Albania<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Begun Oct. 31<span class="sup">st</span>. 1809.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Concluded, Canto 2<span class="sup">d</span>, Smyrna,<br /></span> +<span class="i16">March 28<span class="sup">th</span>, 1810. BYRON.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[xvii]</a></span> +The marginal remarks pencilled occasionally were made +by two friends who saw the thing in MS. sometime previous +to publication. 1812."</p> +</div> + +<p>On the verso of the single bluish-grey cover, the lines, +"Dear Object of Defeated Care," have been inscribed. They +are entitled, "Written beneath the picture of J. U. D." +They are dated, "Byron, Athens, 1811."</p> + +<p>The following notes and memoranda have been bound up +with the MS.:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Henry Drury, Harrow. Given me by Lord Byron. +Being his original autograph MS. of the <i>first</i> canto of +<i>Childe Harold</i>, commenced at Joannina in Albania, proceeded +with at Athens, and completed at Smyrna."</p> + +<p>"How strange that he did not seem to know that the +volume contains Cantos I., II., and so written by L<span class="sup">d</span>. B.!" +[<i>Note by J. Murray.</i>]</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—I desire that you will settle any account for +<i>Childe Harold</i> with Mr. R. C. Dallas, to whom I have presented +the copyright.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i30">Y<span class="sup">r</span>. obed<span class="sup">t</span>. +Serv<span class="sup">t</span>.,<br /></span> +<span class="i34">BYRON.<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To Mr. John Murray,<br /></span> +<span class="i10">Bookseller,<br /></span> +<span class="i16">32, Fleet Street,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">London, Mar. 17, 1812."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<p>"Received, April 1st, 1812, of Mr. John Murray, the sum +of one hundred pounds 15/8, being my entire half-share of +the profits of the 1st Edition of +<i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i> 4to.</p> + +<p>R. C. DALLAS.</p> +<div style="position:relative;width:100%;"> +<p style="float:left;margin-top:40px;">£101:15:8.</p> +<p style="width:22em;">Mem.: This receipt is for the above sum, +in part of five hundred guineas agreed to +be paid by Mr. Murray for the Copyright +of <i>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</i>." +</p> +</div> + +</div> + +<p style="clear:both;">The following poems are appended to the MS. of the +First and Second Cantos of <i>Childe Harold</i>:—</p> + +<p>1. "Written at Mrs. Spencer Smith's request, in her +memorandum-book—</p> + +<p class="center">"'As o'er the cold sepulchral stone.'"</p> + +<p>2. "Stanzas written in passing the Ambracian Gulph, November 14, 1809."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[xviii]</a></span></p> + +<p>3. "Written at Athens, January 16th, 1810—</p> + +<p class="center">"'The spell is broke, the charm is flown.'"</p> + +<p>4. "Stanzas composed October 11, 1809, during the night +in a thunderstorm, when the guides had lost the road to +Zitza, in the range of mountains formerly called Pindus, in Albania."</p> + +<p>On a blank leaf bound up with the MS. at the end of +the volume, Byron wrote—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>"Dear D<span class="sup">s</span>.,—This is all that was contained in the MS., +but the outside cover has been torn off by the booby of a binder.</p> + +<p style="margin-left:15em;">Yours ever,</p> + +<p style="margin-left:18em;">B."</p> +</div> + +<p>The volume is bound in smooth green morocco, bordered +by a single gilt line. "MS." in gilt lettering is stamped on +the side cover.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p class="center" ><span class="smcap">Collation of First Edition, Quarto, 1812,<br /> +with MS. of the First Canto.</span></p> + +<p>The MS. numbers ninety-one stanzas, the First Edition +ninety-three stanzas.</p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Omissions from the MS</span>.</p> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td style="width:7em;">Stanza vii.</td><td>"Of all his train there was a henchman page,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza viii.</td><td>"Him and one yeoman only did he take,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xxii.</td><td>"Unhappy Vathek! in an evil hour,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xxv.</td><td>"In golden characters right well designed,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xxvii.</td><td>"But when Convention sent his handy work,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xxviii.</td><td>"Thus unto Heaven appealed the people: Heaven,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxviii.</td><td>"There may you read with spectacles on eyes,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxix.</td><td>"There may you read—Oh, Phoebus, save Sir John,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xc.</td><td>"Yet here of Vulpes mention may be made,"—</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[xix]</a></span></p> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Insertions in the First Edition</span>.</p> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td style="width:7em;">Stanza i.</td><td>"Oh, thou! in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza viii.</td><td>"Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza ix.</td><td>"And none did love him!—though to hall and bower,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xliii.</td><td>"Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief!"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxv.</td><td>"Adieu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu!"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxvi.</td><td>"Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her Fate,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxviii.</td><td>"Flows there a tear of Pity for the dead?"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxix.</td><td>"Not yet, alas! the dreadful work is done,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xc.</td><td>"Not all the blood at Talavera shed,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xci.</td><td>"And thou, my friend!—since unavailing woe,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xcii.</td><td>"Oh, known the earliest, and esteemed the most,"—</td></tr> +</table> + +<p>The MS. of the Second Canto numbers eighty stanzas; +the First Edition numbers eighty-eight stanzas.</p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Omissions from the MS</span>.</p> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td style="width:7em;">Stanza viii.</td><td>"Frown not upon me, churlish Priest! that I,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xiv.</td><td>"Come, then, ye classic Thieves of each degree,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xv.</td><td>"Or will the gentle Dilettanti crew,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxiii.</td><td>"Childe Harold with that Chief held colloquy,"—</td></tr> +</table> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Insertions in the First Edition</span>.</p> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td style="width:7em;">Stanza viii.</td><td>"Yet if, as holiest men have deemed, there be,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza ix.</td><td>"There, Thou! whose Love and Life together fled,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xv.</td><td>"Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on Thee,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lii.</td><td>"Oh! where, Dodona! is thine agéd Grove?"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxiii.</td><td>"Mid many things most new to ear and eye,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxx.</td><td>"Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxiii.</td><td>"Let such approach this consecrated Land,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxiv.</td><td>"For thee, who thus in too protracted song,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxv.</td><td>"Thou too art gone, thou loved and lovely one!"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxvii.</td><td>"Then must I plunge again into the crowd,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxviii.</td><td>"What is the worst of woes that wait on Age?"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxvi.</td><td>"Oh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved!"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxvii.</td><td>"Then must I plunge again into the crowd,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxviii.</td><td>"What is the worst of woes that wait on Age?"—</td></tr> +</table> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[xx]</a></span></p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Additions to the Seventh Edition, 1814</span>.</p> + +<p>The Second Canto, in the first six editions, numbers +eighty-eight stanzas; in the Seventh Edition the Second Canto +numbers ninety-eight stanzas.</p> + +<p class='center'><span class="smcap">Additions</span>.</p> + +<table summary=""> +<tr><td style="width:7em;"> </td><td>The Dedication, To Ianthe.</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xxvii.</td><td>"More blest the life of godly Eremite,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxvii.</td><td>"The city won for Allah from the Giaour,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxviii.</td><td>"Yet mark their mirth, ere Lenten days begin,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxix.</td><td>"And whose more rife with merriment than thine,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxx.</td><td>"Loud was the lightsome tumult on the shore,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxi.</td><td>"Glanced many a light Caique along the foam,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxii.</td><td>"But, midst the throng' in merry masquerade,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxiii.</td><td>"This must he feel, the true-born son of Greece,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza lxxxix.</td><td>"The Sun, the soil—but not the slave, the same,"—</td></tr> +<tr><td>Stanza xc.</td><td>"The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow,"—</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[xxi]</a></span></p> + +<hr class="major" /> +<h2><a name="ITINERARY" id="ITINERARY"></a>ITINERARY.</h2> + +<table summary="itinerary" style="width:100%;line-height:1.3em;border-collapse:separate;"> +<tr> +<td style="width:4.5em;vertical-align:middle;">1809.</td> +<td class="center" style="height:2em;vertical-align:middle;"><span class="smcap">Canto</span> I.</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +July 2.</td><td>Sail from Falmouth in Lisbon packet. (Stanza xii. Letter 125.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td> +July 6.</td><td> Arrive Lisbon. (Stanzas xvi., xvii. Letter 126.) + Visit Cintra. (Stanzas xviii.-xxvi. Letter 128.) + Visit Mafra. (Stanza xxix.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td> +July 17.</td><td>Leave Lisbon. (Stanza xxviii. Letter 127.) + Ride through Portugal and Spain to Seville. + (Stanzas xxviii.-xlii. Letter 127.) + Visit Albuera. (Stanza xliii.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td> +July 21.</td><td>Arrive Seville. (Stanzas xlv., xlvi. Letters 127, 128.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td> +July 25.</td><td>Leave Seville. + Ride to Cadiz, across the Sierra Morena. (Stanza li.) + Cadiz. (Stanzas lxv.-lxxxiv. Letters 127, 128.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td > + </td><td class="center" style="height:2em;vertical-align:middle;"><span class="smcap">Canto</span> II.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Aug. 6.</td><td>Arrive Gibraltar. (Letters 127, 128.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Aug. 17.</td><td>Sail from Gibraltar in Malta packet. (Stanzas xvii.-xxviii.) + Malta. (Stanzas xxix.-xxxv. Letter 130.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Sept. 19.</td><td>Sail from Malta in brig-of-war <i>Spider</i>. (Letter 131.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Sept. 23.</td><td>Between Cephalonia and Zante.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Sept. 26.</td><td>Anchor off Patras.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Sept. 27.</td><td>In the channel between Ithaca and the mainland. + (Stanzas xxxix.-xlii.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Sept. 28.</td><td>Anchor off Prevesa (7 p.m.). (Stanza xlv.) + <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[xxii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 1.</td><td>Leave Prevesa, arrive Salakhora (Salagoura).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 3.</td><td>Leave Salakhora, arrive Arta.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 4.</td><td>Leave Arta, arrive han St. Demetre (H. Dhimittrios).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 5.</td><td>Arrive Janina. (Stanza xlvii. Letter 131.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 8.</td><td>Ride into the country. First day of Ramazan.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 11.</td><td>Leave Janina, arrive Zitza ("Lines written during + a Thunderstorm"). (Stanzas xlviii.-li. Letter 131.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 13.</td><td>Leave Zitza, arrive Mossiani (Móseri).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 14.</td><td>Leave Mossiani, arrive Delvinaki (Dhelvinaki). (Stanza liv.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 15.</td><td>Leave Delvinaki, arrive Libokhovo.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 17.</td><td>Leave Libokhovo, arrive Cesarades (Kestourataes).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 18.</td><td>Leave Cesarades, arrive Ereeneed (Irindi).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 19.</td><td>Leave Ereeneed, arrive Tepeleni. (Stanzas lv.-lxi.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 20.</td><td>Reception by Ali Pacha. (Stanzas lxii.-lxiv.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 23.</td><td>Leave Tepeleni, arrive Locavo (Lacovon).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 24.</td><td>Leave Locavo, arrive Delvinaki.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 25.</td><td>Leave Delvinaki, arrive Zitza.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 26.</td><td>Leave Zitza, arrive Janina.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Oct. 31.</td><td>Byron begins the First Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 3.</td><td>Leave Janina, arrive han St. Demetre.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 4.</td><td>Leave han St. Demetre, arrive Arta.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 5.</td><td>Leave Arta, arrive Salakhora.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 7.</td><td>Leave Salakhora, arrive Prevesa.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 8.</td><td>Sail from Prevesa, anchor off mainland near + Parga. (Stanzas lxvii., lxviii.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 9.</td><td>Leave Parga, and, returning by land, arrive + Volondorako (Valanidórakhon). (Stanza lxix.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 10.</td><td>Leave Volondorako, arrive Castrosikia (Kastrosykia).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 11.</td><td>Leave Castrosikia, arrive Prevesa.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 13.</td><td>Sail from Prevesa, anchor off Vonitsa.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 14.</td><td>Sail from Vonitsa, arrive Lutraki (Loutráki). + (Stanzas lxx., lxxii., Song "Tambourgi, Tambourgi;" + stanza written in passing the Ambracian Gulph. Letter 131.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 15.</td><td>Leave Lutraki, arrive Katúna.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 16.</td><td>Leave Katúna, arrive Makalá (? Machalas). + <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[xxiii]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr > +<td style="height:2em;vertical-align:middle;">1809.</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 18.</td><td>Leave Makalá, arrive Guriá.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 19.</td><td>Leave Guriá, arrive Ætolikon.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 20.</td><td>Leave Ætolikon, arrive Mesolonghi.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Nov. 23.</td><td>Sail from Mesolonghi, arrive Patras.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 4.</td><td>Leave Patras, sleep at <i>Han</i> on shore.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 5.</td><td>Leave <i>Han</i>, arrive Vostitsa (Oegion).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 14.</td><td>Sail from Vostitsa, arrive Larnáki (? Itea).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 15.</td><td>Leave Larnáki (? Itea), arrive Chrysó.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 16.</td><td>Visit Delphi, the Pythian Cave, and stream of Castaly. + (Canto I. stanza i.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 17.</td><td>Leave Chrysó, arrive Arakhova (Rhakova).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 18.</td><td>Leave Arakhova, arrive Livadia (Livadhia).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 21.</td><td>Leave Livadia, arrive Mazee (Mazi).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 22.</td><td>Leave Mazee, arrive Thebes.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 24.</td><td>Leave Thebes, arrive Skurta.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 25.</td><td>Leave Skurta, pass Phyle, arrive Athens. + (Stanzas i.-xv., stanza lxxiv.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Dec. 30.</td><td>Byron finishes the First Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td style="height:2em;vertical-align:middle;">1810.</td><td> </td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 13.</td><td>Visit Eleusis.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 16.</td><td>Visit Mendeli (Pentelicus). (Stanza lxxxvii.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 18.</td><td>Walk round the peninsula of Munychia.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 19.</td><td>Leave Athens, arrive Vari.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 20.</td><td>Leave Vari, arrive Keratéa.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 23.</td><td>Visit temple of Athene at Sunium. (Stanza lxxxvi.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 24.</td><td>Leave Keratéa, arrive plain of Marathon.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 25.</td><td>Visit plain of Marathon. (Stanzas lxxxix., xc.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Jan. 26.</td><td>Leave Marathon, arrive Athens.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 5.</td><td>Leave Athens, embark on board the <i>Pylades</i> (Letter 136.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 7.</td><td>Arrive Smyrna. (Letters 132, 133.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 13.</td><td>Leave Smyrna, sleep at <i>Han</i>, near the river Halesus.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 14.</td><td>Leave <i>Han</i>, arrive Aiasaluk (near Ephesus).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 15.</td><td>Visit site of temple of Artemis at Ephesus. (Letter 132.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 16.</td><td>Leave Ephesus, return to Smyrna. (Letter 132.) + <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[xxiv]</a></span></td></tr> +<tr> +<td>Mar. 28.</td><td>Byron finishes the Second Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>April 11.</td><td>Sail from Smyrna in the <i>Salsette</i> frigate. (Letter 134.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>April 12.</td><td>Anchor off Tenedos.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>April 13.</td><td>Visit ruins of Alexandria Troas.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>April 14.</td><td>Anchor off Cape Janissary.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>April 16.</td><td>Byron attempts to swim across the Hellespont, + explores the Troad. (Letters 135, 136.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>April 30.</td><td>Visit the springs of Bunarbashi (Bunarbási).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>May 1.</td><td>Weigh anchor from off Cape Janissary, anchor eight miles from Dardanelles.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>May 2.</td><td>Anchor off Castle Chanak Kalessia (Kale i Sultaniye).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>May 3.</td><td>Byron and Mr. Ekenhead swim across the Hellespont + (lines "Written after swimming," etc.).</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>May 13.</td><td>Anchor off Venaglio Point, arrive Constantinople. + (Stanzas lxxvii.-lxxxii. Letters 138-145.)</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>July 14.</td><td>Sail from Constantinople in <i>Salsette</i> frigate.</td></tr> +<tr> +<td>July 18.</td><td>Byron returns to Athens.</td></tr> +</table> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Note to "Itinerary."</span></p> + +<p>[For dates and names of towns and villages, see +<i>Travels in Albania, and other Provinces of Turkey, in 1809 and 1810</i>, +by the Right Hon. Lord Broughton, G.C.B. [John Cam Hobhouse], +two volumes, 1858. The orthography is based +on that of Longmans' <i>Gazetteer of the World</i>, edited by +G. G. Chisholm, 1895. The alternative forms are taken from +Heinrich Kiepert's <i>Carte de l'Épire et de la Thessalie</i>, +Berlin, 1897, and from Dr. Karl Peucker's <i>Griechenland</i>, +Wien, 1897.]</p> + + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[xxv]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CONTENTS" id="CONTENTS"></a> +CONTENTS OF VOL. II. +</h2> + +<p class="center">CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.</p> + +<table class="toc" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td>Preface to Vol. II. of the Poems</td><td class="p" style="width:4em;"><a href="#Page_v">v</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Introduction to the First and Second Cantos</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_ix">ix</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Notes on the MSS. of the First and Second Cantos</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_xvi">xvi</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Itinerary</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_xxi">xxi</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Preface to the First and Second Cantos</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_3">3</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>To Ianthe</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_11">11</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Canto the First</span></td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Notes</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_85">85</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Canto the Second</span></td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_97">97</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Notes</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_165">165</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Introduction to Canto the Third</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_211">211</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Canto the Third</span></td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_215">215</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Notes</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_291">291</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Introduction to Canto the Fourth</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_311">311</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Original Draft, etc., of Canto the Fourth</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_316">316</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Dedication</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_321">321</a></td></tr> +<tr><td><span class="smcap">Canto the Fourth</span></td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_327">327</a></td></tr> +<tr><td>Historical Notes by J. C. Hobhouse</td><td class="p"><a href="#Page_465">465</a></td></tr> +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[xxvii]</a></span></p> + + +<h2><a name="ILLUSTRATIONS" id="ILLUSTRATIONS"></a> +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS +</h2> + +<table class="toc" summary="illustrations"> +<tr><td class="e"> +1. <span class="smcap">Ianthe (Lady Charlotte Harley), from an +Engraving by W. Finden, after a Drawing by +R. Westall, R.A.</span></td><td class="p" style="width:8em;"><i>Frontispiece</i></td></tr> + +<tr><td class="e"> +2. <span class="smcap">The Duchess of Richmond, from a Miniature +by Richard Cosway, in the Possession of His +Grace the Duke of Richmond and Gordon, K.G.</span></td> +<td class="p"><i>To face p.</i> 228</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="e"> +3. <span class="smcap">Portrait of Lord Byron at Venice, from a +Painting in Oils by Ruckard, in the +Possession of Horatio F. Brown, Esq.</span></td><td class="p">326</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="e"> +4. <span class="smcap">The Horses of St. Mark, from a Photograph +by Alinari</span> </td><td class="p"> 338</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="e"> +5. <span class="smcap">S. Pantaleon, from a Woodcut published at +Cremona in 1493</span></td><td class="p"> 340</td></tr> + +<tr><td class="e"> +6. <span class="smcap">The Dying Gaul, from the Original in the +Museum of the Capitol</span></td><td class="p"> 432</td></tr> + +</table> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> + + +<h3>CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE<br /> +<i>A ROMAUNT</i>. +</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"L'univers est une espèce de livre, dont on n'a lu que la +première page quand on n'a vu que son pays. J'en ai +feuilleté un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouvé également +mauvaises. Cet examen ne m'a point été infructueux. +Je haïssais ma patrie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples +divers, parmi lesquels j'ai vécu, m'ont reconcilié avec elle. +Quand je n'aurais tiré d'autre bénéfice de mes voyages que +celui-là, je n'en regretterais ni les frais ni les +fatigues."—<i>Le Cosmopolite, ou, le Citoyen du Monde</i>, +par Fougeret de Monbron. Londres, 1753.</p> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="PREFACE_FIRST" id="PREFACE_FIRST"></a>PREFACE +<a name="FNanchor_A" id="FNanchor_A"></a><a href="#Footnote_A" class="fnanchor">[a]</a> +<br /> +<span style="font-size:90%;">[TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS.]</span> +</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> following poem was written, for the most part, amidst +the scenes which it attempts<a name="FNanchor_B" id="FNanchor_B"></a><a href="#Footnote_B" class="fnanchor">[b]</a> to describe. It was begun in +Albania; and the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were +composed from the author's observations in those countries. +Thus much it may be necessary to state for the correctness +of the descriptions. The scenes attempted to be sketched +are in Spain, Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania and Greece. +There, for the present, the poem stops: its reception will +determine whether the author may venture to conduct his +readers to the capital of the East, through Ionia and Phrygia: +these two cantos are merely experimental.</p> + +<p>A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving +some connection to the piece; which, however, makes no +pretension to regularity. It has been suggested to me by +friends, on whose opinions I set a high value,<a name="FNanchor_C" id="FNanchor_C"></a><a href="#Footnote_C" class="fnanchor">[c]</a>—that in this +fictitious character, "Childe Harold," I may incur the suspicion +of having intended some real personage: this I beg +leave, once for all, to disclaim—Harold is the child of imagination, +for the purpose I have stated.</p> + +<p>In some very trivial particulars, and those merely local, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +there might be grounds for such a notion;<a name="FNanchor_D" id="FNanchor_D"></a><a href="#Footnote_D" class="fnanchor">[d]</a> but in the main +points, I should hope, none whatever.<a name="FNanchor_E" id="FNanchor_E"></a><a href="#Footnote_E" class="fnanchor">[e]</a></p> + +<p>It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation +"Childe,"<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> as "Childe Waters," "Childe Childers," etc., is +used as more consonant with the old structure of versification +which I have adopted. The "Good Night" in the beginning +of the first Canto, was suggested by Lord Maxwell's "Good +Night"<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> in the <i>Border Minstrelsy</i>, edited by Mr. Scott.</p> + +<p>With the different poems<a name="FNanchor_4" id="FNanchor_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> which have been published on +Spanish subjects, there may be found some slight coincidence<a name="FNanchor_F" id="FNanchor_F"></a><a href="#Footnote_F" class="fnanchor">[f]</a> +in the first part, which treats of the Peninsula, but it can only +be casual; as, with the exception of a few concluding stanzas, +the whole of the poem was written in the Levant.</p> + +<p>The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +successful poets, admits of every variety. Dr. Beattie makes +the following observation:—</p> + +<p>"Not long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of +Spenser, in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination, +and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, +tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me; for, if +I mistake not, the measure which I have adopted admits +equally of all these kinds of composition."<a name="FNanchor_5" id="FNanchor_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Strengthened in +my opinion by such authority, and by the example of some +in the highest order of Italian poets, I shall make no apology +for attempts at similar variations in the following composition;<a name="FNanchor_G" id="FNanchor_G"></a><a href="#Footnote_G" class="fnanchor">[g]</a> +satisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their failure +must be in the execution, rather than in the design sanctioned +by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie.</p> + +<p>London, February, 1812.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3>ADDITION TO THE PREFACE.</h3> + +<p>I have now waited till almost all our periodical journals +have distributed their usual portion of criticism. To the +justice of the generality of their criticisms I have nothing to +object; it would ill become me to quarrel with their very +slight degree of censure, when, perhaps, if they had been less +kind they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, to +all and each my best thanks for their liberality, on one point +alone I shall venture an observation. Amongst the many +objections justly urged to the very indifferent character of the +"vagrant Childe" (whom, notwithstanding many hints to the +contrary, I still maintain to be a fictitious personage), it has +been stated, that, besides the anachronism, he is very +<i>unknightly</i>, as the times of the Knights were times of Love, +Honour, and so forth.<a name="FNanchor_6" id="FNanchor_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Now it so happens that the good old +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +times, when "l'amour du bon vieux tems, l'amour antique," +flourished, were the most profligate of all possible centuries. +Those who have any doubts on this subject may consult +Sainte-Palaye, <i>passim</i>, and more particularly vol. ii. p. 69.<a name="FNanchor_7" id="FNanchor_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> +The vows of chivalry were no better kept than any other +vows whatsoever; and the songs of the Troubadours were +not more decent, and certainly were much less refined, than +those of Ovid. The "Cours d'Amour, parlemens d'amour, ou +de courtoisie et de gentilesse" had much more of love than of +courtesy or gentleness. See Rolland<a name="FNanchor_8" id="FNanchor_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> on the same subject +with Sainte-Palaye.</p> + +<p>Whatever other objection may be urged to that most unamiable +personage Childe Harold, he was so far perfectly +knightly in his attributes—"No waiter, but a knight templar."<a name="FNanchor_9" id="FNanchor_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span> +By the by, I fear that Sir Tristrem and Sir Lancelot were +no better than they should be, although very poetical personages +and true knights, "sans peur," though not "sans +réproche." If the story of the institution of the "Garter" be +not a fable, the knights of that order have for several centuries +borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury, of indifferent +memory. So much for chivalry. Burke need not have +regretted that its days are over, though Marie-Antoinette was +quite as chaste as most of those in whose honour lances were +shivered, and knights unhorsed.<a name="FNanchor_10" id="FNanchor_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<p>Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir Joseph +Banks<a name="FNanchor_11" id="FNanchor_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> (the most chaste and celebrated of ancient and modern +times) few exceptions will be found to this statement; and I +fear a little investigation will teach us not to regret these +monstrous mummeries of the middle ages.</p> + +<p>I now leave "Childe Harold" to live his day such as he is; +it had been more agreeable, and certainly more easy, to have +drawn an amiable character. It had been easy to varnish +over his faults, to make him do more and express less, but he +never was intended as an example, further than to show, +that early perversion of mind and morals leads to satiety of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +past pleasures and disappointment in new ones, and that +even the beauties of nature and the stimulus of travel (except +ambition, the most powerful of all excitements) are lost on a +soul so constituted, or rather misdirected. Had I proceeded +with the Poem, this character would have deepened as he +drew to the close; for the outline which I once meant to fill +up for him was, with some exceptions, the sketch of a modern +Timon,<a name="FNanchor_12" id="FNanchor_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> perhaps a poetical +Zeluco.<a name="FNanchor_13" id="FNanchor_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> +</p> + +<hr class="major" style="margin-bottom:2cm;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> +<div class="titlepage"> + + <h1>CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE</h1> + <h3 style="margin-top:1em;">CANTO THE FIRST.</h3> +</div> + +<hr class="major" style="margin-top:2cm;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<h3>TO IANTHE. +<a name="FNanchor_H" id="FNanchor_H"></a><a href="#Footnote_H" class="fnanchor">[h]</a> +<a name="FNanchor_14" id="FNanchor_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> +</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Not</span> in those climes where I have late been straying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deemed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in those visions to the heart displaying<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forms which it sighs but to have only dreamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath aught like thee in Truth or Fancy seemed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To paint those charms which varied as they beamed—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To such as see thee not my words were weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To those who gaze on thee what language could they speak?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor unbeseem the promise of thy Spring—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's image upon earth without his wing,<a name="FNanchor_15" id="FNanchor_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And surely she who now so fondly rears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beholds the Rainbow of her future years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Before whose heavenly hues all Sorrow disappears.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Young Peri of the West!—'tis well for me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My years already doubly number thine;<a name="FNanchor_16" id="FNanchor_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Happier, that, while all younger hearts shall bleed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To those whose admiration shall succeed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreed.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +<span class="i0">Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,<a name="FNanchor_17" id="FNanchor_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glance o'er this page, nor to my verse deny<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could I to thee be ever more than friend:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This much, dear Maid, accord; nor question why<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To one so young my strain I would commend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But bid me with my wreath one matchless Lily blend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such is thy name<a name="FNanchor_18" id="FNanchor_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> with this my verse entwined;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast<a name="FNanchor_I" id="FNanchor_I"></a><a href="#Footnote_I" class="fnanchor">[i]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall thus be <i>first</i> beheld, forgotten <i>last</i>:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My days once numbered—should this homage past<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Attract thy fairy fingers near the Lyre<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of him who hailed thee loveliest, as thou wast—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such is the most my Memory may desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require?<a name="FNanchor_J" id="FNanchor_J"></a><a href="#Footnote_J" class="fnanchor">[j]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" style="margin:2cm auto 2cm auto;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<h1><span style="font-size:200%;letter-spacing:6px;line-height:1.5em;"> +CHILDE HAROLD'S<br />PILGRIMAGE</span>. +<br /><span style="font-size:150%;line-height:3em;">A ROMAUNT.</span> +</h1> +<hr class="dbl" /> + +<h2><a id="CANTO_FIRST" name="CANTO_FIRST"></a>CANTO THE FIRST. +</h2> + + +<h4><a id="CI_I" name="CI_I"></a>I.<a name="FNanchor_19" id="FNanchor_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Oh</span>, thou! in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,<a name="FNanchor_K" id="FNanchor_K"></a><a href="#Footnote_K" class="fnanchor">[k]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Muse! formed or fabled at the Minstrel's will!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,<a name="FNanchor_L" id="FNanchor_L"></a><a href="#Footnote_L" class="fnanchor">[l]</a><a name="FNanchor_20" id="FNanchor_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred Hill:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill;<a name="FNanchor_M" id="FNanchor_M"></a><a href="#Footnote_M" class="fnanchor">[m]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes! sighed o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_1">[1.B.]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To grace so plain a tale—this lowly lay of mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who ne in Virtue's ways did take delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But spent his days in riot most uncouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;<a name="FNanchor_N" id="FNanchor_N"></a><a href="#Footnote_N" class="fnanchor">[n]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Few earthly things found favour in his sight<a name="FNanchor_O" id="FNanchor_O"></a><a href="#Footnote_O" class="fnanchor">[o]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save concubines and carnal companie,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.<a name="FNanchor_21" id="FNanchor_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span></p> +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Childe Harold was he hight:<a name="FNanchor_22" id="FNanchor_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a>—but whence his name<a name="FNanchor_P" id="FNanchor_P"></a><a href="#Footnote_P" class="fnanchor">[p]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lineage long, it suits me not to say;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And had been glorious in another day:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But one sad losel soils a name for ay,<a name="FNanchor_23" id="FNanchor_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">However mighty in the olden time;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,<a name="FNanchor_Q" id="FNanchor_Q"></a><a href="#Footnote_Q" class="fnanchor">[q]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Childe Harold basked him in the Noontide sun,<a name="FNanchor_R" id="FNanchor_R"></a><a href="#Footnote_R" class="fnanchor">[r]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disporting there like any other fly;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Nor deemed before his little day was done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One blast might chill him into misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But long ere scarce a third of his passed by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worse than Adversity the Childe befell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He felt the fulness of Satiety:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which seemed to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run,<a name="FNanchor_S" id="FNanchor_S"></a><a href="#Footnote_S" class="fnanchor">[s]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor made atonement when he did amiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had sighed to many though he loved but one,<a name="FNanchor_T" id="FNanchor_T"></a><a href="#Footnote_T" class="fnanchor">[t]</a><a name="FNanchor_24" id="FNanchor_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And that loved one, alas! could ne'er be his.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had been pollution unto aught so chaste;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spoiled her goodly lands to gild his waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor calm domestic peace had ever deigned to taste.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart,<a name="FNanchor_U" id="FNanchor_U"></a><a href="#Footnote_U" class="fnanchor">[u]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from his fellow Bacchanals would flee;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Pride congealed the drop within his ee:<a name="FNanchor_25" id="FNanchor_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Apart he stalked in joyless reverie,<a name="FNanchor_V" id="FNanchor_V"></a><a href="#Footnote_V" class="fnanchor">[v]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from his native land resolved to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And visit scorching climes beyond the sea;<a name="FNanchor_26" id="FNanchor_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With pleasure drugged, he almost longed for woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Childe departed from his father's hall:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was a vast and venerable pile;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So old, it seeméd only not to fall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet strength was pillared in each massy aisle.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Monastic dome! condemned to uses vile!<a name="FNanchor_W" id="FNanchor_W"></a><a href="#Footnote_W" class="fnanchor">[w]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Superstition once had made her den<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile;<a name="FNanchor_X" id="FNanchor_X"></a><a href="#Footnote_X" class="fnanchor">[x]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And monks might deem their time was come agen,<a name="FNanchor_27" id="FNanchor_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> +<h4>VIII. +<a name="FNanchor_Y" id="FNanchor_Y"></a><a href="#Footnote_Y" class="fnanchor">[y]</a> +</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow,<a name="FNanchor_Z" id="FNanchor_Z"></a><a href="#Footnote_Z" class="fnanchor">[z]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> +<span class="i2">As if the Memory of some deadly feud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or disappointed passion lurked below:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But this none knew, nor haply cared to know;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For his was not that open, artless soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er this grief mote be, which he could not control.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.<a name="FNanchor_AA" id="FNanchor_AA"></a><a href="#Footnote_AA" class="fnanchor">[aa]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And none did love him!—though to hall and bower<a name="FNanchor_28" id="FNanchor_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">He gathered revellers from far and near,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +<span class="i2">He knew them flatterers of the festal hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heartless Parasites of present cheer.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yea! none did love him—not his lemans dear—<a name="FNanchor_AB" id="FNanchor_AB"></a><a href="#Footnote_AB" class="fnanchor">[ab]</a><a name="FNanchor_29" id="FNanchor_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But pomp and power alone are Woman's care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where these are light Eros finds a feere;<a name="FNanchor_30" id="FNanchor_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> +<h4>X.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Childe Harold had a mother—not forgot,<a name="FNanchor_AC" id="FNanchor_AC"></a><a href="#Footnote_AC" class="fnanchor">[ac]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though parting from that mother he did shun;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sister whom he loved, but saw her not<a name="FNanchor_31" id="FNanchor_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before his weary pilgrimage begun:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If friends he had, he bade adieu to none.<a name="FNanchor_AD" id="FNanchor_AD"></a><a href="#Footnote_AD" class="fnanchor">[ad]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet deem not thence his breast a breast of steel:<a name="FNanchor_AE" id="FNanchor_AE"></a><a href="#Footnote_AE" class="fnanchor">[ae]</a><a name="FNanchor_32" id="FNanchor_32"></a><a href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye, who have known what 'tis to dote upon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A few dear objects, will in sadness feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> +<h4>XI.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His house, his home, his heritage, his lands,<a name="FNanchor_AF" id="FNanchor_AF"></a><a href="#Footnote_AF" class="fnanchor">[af]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The laughing dames in whom he did delight,<a name="FNanchor_AG" id="FNanchor_AG"></a><a href="#Footnote_AG" class="fnanchor">[ag]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might shake the Saintship of an Anchorite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And long had fed his youthful appetite;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His goblets brimmed with every costly wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all that mote to luxury invite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth's central line.<a name="FNanchor_AH" id="FNanchor_AH"></a><a href="#Footnote_AH" class="fnanchor">[ah]</a><a name="FNanchor_33" id="FNanchor_33"></a><a href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew,<a name="FNanchor_AI" id="FNanchor_AI"></a><a href="#Footnote_AI" class="fnanchor">[ai]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">As glad to waft him from his native home;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fast the white rocks faded from his view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soon were lost in circumambient foam:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then, it may be, of his wish to roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Repented he, but in his bosom slept<a name="FNanchor_34" id="FNanchor_34"></a><a href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The silent thought, nor from his lips did come<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the Sun was sinking in the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He seized his harp, which he at times could string,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And strike, albeit with untaught melody,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When deemed he no strange ear was listening:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now his fingers o'er it he did fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fleeting shores receded from his sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus to the elements he poured his last "Good Night."<a name="FNanchor_35" id="FNanchor_35"></a><a href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHILDE HAROLD'S GOOD NIGHT.</h3> + +<h4>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"<span class="smcap">Adieu</span>, adieu! my native shore<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Fades o'er the waters blue;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And shrieks the wild sea-mew.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Yon Sun that sets upon the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i8">We follow in his flight;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Farewell awhile to him and thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My native Land—Good Night!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"A few short hours and He will rise<br /></span> +<span class="i8">To give the Morrow birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And I shall hail the main and skies,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But not my mother Earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Deserted is my own good Hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Its hearth is desolate;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My Dog howls at the gate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Come hither, hither, my little page<a name="FNanchor_36" id="FNanchor_36"></a><a href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">Why dost thou weep and wail?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +<span class="i6">Or dost thou dread the billows' rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or tremble at the gale?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But dash the tear-drop from thine eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Our ship is swift and strong:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly<a name="FNanchor_AJ" id="FNanchor_AJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_AJ" class="fnanchor">[aj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">More merrily along."<a name="FNanchor_AK" id="FNanchor_AK"></a><a href="#Footnote_AK" class="fnanchor">[ak]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,<a name="FNanchor_AL" id="FNanchor_AL"></a><a href="#Footnote_AL" class="fnanchor">[al]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">I fear not wave nor wind:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Am sorrowful in mind;<a name="FNanchor_37" id="FNanchor_37"></a><a href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i6">For I have from my father gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">A mother whom I love,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And have no friend, save these alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">But thee—and One above.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> +<h4>5.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">'My father blessed me fervently,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Yet did not much complain;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But sorely will my mother sigh<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Till I come back again.'—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"Enough, enough, my little lad!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Such tears become thine eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">If I thy guileless bosom had,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Mine own would not be dry.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,<a name="FNanchor_38" id="FNanchor_38"></a><a href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">Why dost thou look so pale?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Or dost thou dread a French foeman?<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Or shiver at the gale?"—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life?<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Sir Childe, I'm not so weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But thinking on an absent wife<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Will blanch a faithful cheek.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Along the bordering Lake,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> +<span class="i6">And when they on their father call,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">What answer shall she make?'—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">"Enough, enough, my yeoman good,<a name="FNanchor_AM" id="FNanchor_AM"></a><a href="#Footnote_AM" class="fnanchor">[am]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">Thy grief let none gainsay;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But I, who am of lighter mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Will laugh to flee away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>8.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"For who would trust the seeming sighs<a name="FNanchor_AN" id="FNanchor_AN"></a><a href="#Footnote_AN" class="fnanchor">[an]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i8">Of wife or paramour?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i8">We late saw streaming o'er.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">For pleasures past I do not grieve,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Nor perils gathering near;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">My greatest grief is that I leave<br /></span> +<span class="i8">No thing that claims a tear.<a name="FNanchor_39" id="FNanchor_39"></a><a href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span></p> +<h4>9.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"And now I'm in the world alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Upon the wide, wide sea:<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But why should I for others groan,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">When none will sigh for me?<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Perchance my Dog will whine in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Till fed by stranger hands;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But long ere I come back again,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">He'd tear me where he stands.<a name="FNanchor_AO" id="FNanchor_AO"></a><a href="#Footnote_AO" class="fnanchor">[ao]</a><a name="FNanchor_40" id="FNanchor_40"></a><a href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> +<h4>10.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Athwart the foaming brine;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,<br /></span> +<span class="i8">So not again to mine.<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">And when you fail my sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!<br /></span> +<span class="i8">My native Land—Good Night!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">New shores descried make every bosom gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Cintra's mountain<a name="FNanchor_41" id="FNanchor_41"></a><a href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> greets them on their way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Tagus dashing onward to the Deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His fabled golden tribute<a name="FNanchor_42" id="FNanchor_42"></a><a href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> bent to pay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.<a name="FNanchor_AP" id="FNanchor_AP"></a><a href="#Footnote_AP" class="fnanchor">[ap]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span></p> +<h4>XV.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Christ! it is a goodly sight to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What Heaven hath done for this delicious land!<a name="FNanchor_AQ" id="FNanchor_AQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_AQ" class="fnanchor">[aq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But man would mar them with an impious hand:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Gainst those who most transgress his high command,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gaul's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge<a name="FNanchor_AR" id="FNanchor_AR"></a><a href="#Footnote_AR" class="fnanchor">[ar]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What beauties doth Lisboa<a name="FNanchor_43" id="FNanchor_43"></a><a href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> first unfold!<a name="FNanchor_AS" id="FNanchor_AS"></a><a href="#Footnote_AS" class="fnanchor">[as]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her image floating on that noble tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,<a name="FNanchor_AT" id="FNanchor_AT"></a><a href="#Footnote_AT" class="fnanchor">[at]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now whereon a thousand keels did ride<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to the Lusians did her aid afford:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A nation swoln with ignorance and pride,<a name="FNanchor_44" id="FNanchor_44"></a><a href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who lick yet loathe the hand that waves the sword<a name="FNanchor_AU" id="FNanchor_AU"></a><a href="#Footnote_AU" class="fnanchor">[au]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To save them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But whoso entereth within this town,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, sheening far, celestial seems to be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disconsolate will wander up and down,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Mid many things unsightly to strange ee;<a name="FNanchor_AV" id="FNanchor_AV"></a><a href="#Footnote_AV" class="fnanchor">[av]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">For hut and palace show like filthily:<a name="FNanchor_AW" id="FNanchor_AW"></a><a href="#Footnote_AW" class="fnanchor">[aw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dingy denizens are reared in dirt;<a name="FNanchor_AX" id="FNanchor_AX"></a><a href="#Footnote_AX" class="fnanchor">[ax]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne personage of high or mean degree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwashed, unhurt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Poor, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest scenes—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why, Nature, waste thy wonders on such men?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Lo! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes<a name="FNanchor_45" id="FNanchor_45"></a><a href="#Footnote_45" class="fnanchor">[45]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In variegated maze of mount and glen.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To follow half on which the eye dilates<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through views more dazzling unto mortal ken<a name="FNanchor_AY" id="FNanchor_AY"></a><a href="#Footnote_AY" class="fnanchor">[ay]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than those whereof such things the Bard relates,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who to the awe-struck world unlocked Elysium's gates.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The horrid crags, by toppling convent crowned,<a name="FNanchor_AZ" id="FNanchor_AZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_AZ" class="fnanchor">[az]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cork-trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain-moss by scorching skies imbrowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tender azure<a name="FNanchor_46" id="FNanchor_46"></a><a href="#Footnote_46" class="fnanchor">[46]</a> of the unruffled deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The orange tints that gild the greenest bough,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The torrents that from cliff to valley leap,<a name="FNanchor_BA" id="FNanchor_BA"></a><a href="#Footnote_BA" class="fnanchor">[ba]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vine on high, the willow branch below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mixed in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> +<h4><a id="CI_XX" name="CI_XX"></a>XX.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then slowly climb the many-winding way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And frequent turn to linger as you go,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From loftier rocks new loveliness survey,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rest ye at "Our Lady's house of +Woe;"<a name="FNanchor_47" id="FNanchor_47"></a><a href="#Footnote_47" class="fnanchor">[47]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_2">[2.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where frugal monks their little relics show,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sundry legends to the stranger tell:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here impious men have punished been, and lo!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CI_XXI" name="CI_XXI"></a>XXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And here and there, as up the crags you spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mark many rude-carved crosses near the path:<a name="FNanchor_48" id="FNanchor_48"></a><a href="#Footnote_48" class="fnanchor">[48]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet deem not these Devotion's offering—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These are memorials frail of murderous wrath:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For wheresoe'er the shrieking victim hath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pour'd forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grove and glen with thousand such are rife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throughout this purple land, where Law secures not life. +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_3">[3.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath,<a name="FNanchor_49" id="FNanchor_49"></a><a href="#Footnote_49" class="fnanchor">[49]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are domes where whilome kings did make repair;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But now the wild flowers round them only breathe:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet ruined Splendour still is lingering there.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There thou too, Vathek! England's wealthiest son,<a name="FNanchor_BB" id="FNanchor_BB"></a><a href="#Footnote_BB" class="fnanchor">[bb]</a><a name="FNanchor_50" id="FNanchor_50"></a><a href="#Footnote_50" class="fnanchor">[50]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Once formed thy Paradise, as not aware<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done,<a name="FNanchor_BC" id="FNanchor_BC"></a><a href="#Footnote_BC" class="fnanchor">[bc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now, as if a thing unblest by Man,<a name="FNanchor_BD" id="FNanchor_BD"></a><a href="#Footnote_BD" class="fnanchor">[bd]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as Thou!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Halls deserted, portals gaping wide:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied;<a name="FNanchor_BE" id="FNanchor_BE"></a><a href="#Footnote_BE" class="fnanchor">[be]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_XXIV" name="CI_XXIV"></a>XXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold the hall where chiefs were late convened! <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_4">[4.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! dome displeasing unto British eye!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With diadem hight Foolscap, lo! a Fiend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little Fiend that scoffs incessantly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There sits in parchment robe arrayed, and by<a name="FNanchor_BF" id="FNanchor_BF"></a><a href="#Footnote_BF" class="fnanchor">[bf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">His side is hung a seal and sable scroll,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where blazoned glare names known to chivalry,<a name="FNanchor_BG" id="FNanchor_BG"></a><a href="#Footnote_BG" class="fnanchor">[bg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sundry signatures adorn the roll,<a name="FNanchor_BH" id="FNanchor_BH"></a><a href="#Footnote_BH" class="fnanchor">[bh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whereat the Urchin points and laughs with all his soul.<a name="FNanchor_BI" id="FNanchor_BI"></a><a href="#Footnote_BI" class="fnanchor">[bi]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span></p> +<h4>XXV.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Convention is the dwarfish demon styled<a name="FNanchor_51" id="FNanchor_51"></a><a href="#Footnote_51" class="fnanchor">[51]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">That foiled the knights in Marialva's dome:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Here Folly dashed to earth the victor's plume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Policy regained what arms had lost:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +<span class="i2">For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Woe to the conquering, not the conquered host,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And ever since that martial Synod met,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Britannia sickens, Cintra! at thy name;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And folks in office at the mention fret,<a name="FNanchor_BJ" id="FNanchor_BJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_BJ" class="fnanchor">[bj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fain would blush, if blush they could, for shame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How will Posterity the deed proclaim!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To view these champions cheated of their fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">So deemed the Childe, as o'er the mountains he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did take his way in solitary guise:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More restless than the swallow in the skies:<a name="FNanchor_BK" id="FNanchor_BK"></a><a href="#Footnote_BK" class="fnanchor">[bk]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though here awhile he learned to moralise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Meditation fixed at times on him;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And conscious Reason whispered to despise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His early youth, misspent in maddest whim;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim.<a name="FNanchor_52" id="FNanchor_52"></a><a href="#Footnote_52" class="fnanchor">[52]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To horse! to horse! he quits, for ever quits<a name="FNanchor_53" id="FNanchor_53"></a><a href="#Footnote_53" class="fnanchor">[53]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul:<a name="FNanchor_BL" id="FNanchor_BL"></a><a href="#Footnote_BL" class="fnanchor">[bl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Again he rouses from his moping fits,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But seeks not now the harlot and the bowl.<a name="FNanchor_BM" id="FNanchor_BM"></a><a href="#Footnote_BM" class="fnanchor">[bm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Onward he flies, nor fixed as yet the goal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er him many changing scenes must roll<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere toil his thirst for travel can assuage,<a name="FNanchor_BN" id="FNanchor_BN"></a><a href="#Footnote_BN" class="fnanchor">[bn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_XXIX" name="CI_XXIX"></a>XXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_5">[5.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where dwelt of yore the Lusians' luckless queen;<a name="FNanchor_BO" id="FNanchor_BO"></a><a href="#Footnote_BO" class="fnanchor">[bo]</a><a name="FNanchor_54" id="FNanchor_54"></a><a href="#Footnote_54" class="fnanchor">[54]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Church and Court did mingle their array,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Mass and revel were alternate seen;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Lordlings and freres—ill-sorted fry I ween!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But here the Babylonian Whore hath built<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That men forget the blood which she hath spilt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Oh, that such hills upheld a freeborn race!)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childe Harold wends through many a pleasant place.<a name="FNanchor_BP" id="FNanchor_BP"></a><a href="#Footnote_BP" class="fnanchor">[bp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though sluggards deem it but a foolish chase,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And marvel men should quit their easy chair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The toilsome way, and long, long league to trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More bleak to view the hills at length recede,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend:<a name="FNanchor_BQ" id="FNanchor_BQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_BQ" class="fnanchor">[bq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Immense horizon-bounded plains succeed!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far as the eye discerns, withouten end,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spain's realms appear whereon her shepherds tend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flocks, whose rich fleece right well the trader knows—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now must the Pastor's arm his <i>lambs</i> defend:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Spain is compassed by unyielding foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And <i>all</i> must shield their <i>all</i>, or share Subjection's woes.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where Lusitania and her Sister meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deem ye what bounds the rival realms divide?<a name="FNanchor_BR" id="FNanchor_BR"></a><a href="#Footnote_BR" class="fnanchor">[br]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or ere the jealous Queens of Nations greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth Tayo interpose his mighty tide?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or dark Sierras rise in craggy pride?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall?—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul:<a name="FNanchor_55" id="FNanchor_55"></a><a href="#Footnote_55" class="fnanchor">[55]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_XXXIII" name="CI_XXXIII"></a>XXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But these between a silver streamlet<a name="FNanchor_56" id="FNanchor_56"></a><a href="#Footnote_56" class="fnanchor">[56]</a> glides,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though rival kingdoms press its verdant sides:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And vacant on the rippling waves doth look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen flow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For proud each peasant as the noblest duke:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_6">[6.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ere the mingling bounds have far been passed,<a name="FNanchor_BS" id="FNanchor_BS"></a><a href="#Footnote_BS" class="fnanchor">[bs]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark Guadiana rolls his power along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sullen billows, murmuring and vast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So noted ancient roundelays among.<a name="FNanchor_BT" id="FNanchor_BT"></a><a href="#Footnote_BT" class="fnanchor">[bt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whilome upon his banks did legions throng<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Moor and Knight, in mailéd splendour drest:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here ceased the swift their race, here sunk the strong;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Paynim turban and the Christian crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mixed on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts oppressed.<a name="FNanchor_57" id="FNanchor_57"></a><a href="#Footnote_57" class="fnanchor">[57]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_XXXV" name="CI_XXXV"></a>XXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, lovely Spain! renowned, romantic Land!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where is that standard<a name="FNanchor_58" id="FNanchor_58"></a><a href="#Footnote_58" class="fnanchor">[58]</a> which Pelagio bore,<a name="FNanchor_BU" id="FNanchor_BU"></a><a href="#Footnote_BU" class="fnanchor">[bu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Cava's traitor-sire first called the band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore? <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_7">[7.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are those bloody Banners which of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Waved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And drove at last the spoilers to their shore?<a name="FNanchor_59" id="FNanchor_59"></a><a href="#Footnote_59" class="fnanchor">[59]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Red gleamed the Cross, and waned the Crescent pale,<a name="FNanchor_BV" id="FNanchor_BV"></a><a href="#Footnote_BV" class="fnanchor">[bv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matrons' wail.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Teems not each ditty with the glorious tale?<a name="FNanchor_60" id="FNanchor_60"></a><a href="#Footnote_60" class="fnanchor">[60]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! such, alas! the hero's amplest fate!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When granite moulders and when records fail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date.<a name="FNanchor_BW" id="FNanchor_BW"></a><a href="#Footnote_BW" class="fnanchor">[bw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride! bend thine eye from Heaven to thine estate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See how the Mighty shrink into a song!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can Volume, Pillar, Pile preserve thee great?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Flattery sleeps with thee, and History does thee wrong?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Awake, ye Sons of Spain! awake! advance!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo! Chivalry, your ancient Goddess, cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wields not, as of old, her thirsty lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor shakes her crimson plumage in the skies:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now on the smoke of blazing bolts she flies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And speaks in thunder through yon engine's roar:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> +<span class="i2">In every peal she calls—"Awake! arise!"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Say, is her voice more feeble than of yore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When her war-song was heard on Andalusia's shore?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark!—heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sounds not the clang of conflict on the heath?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Saw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tyrants and Tyrants' slaves?—the fires of Death,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Bale-fires flash on high:—from rock to rock!<a name="FNanchor_BX" id="FNanchor_BX"></a><a href="#Footnote_BX" class="fnanchor">[bx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each volley tells that thousands cease to breathe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc,<a name="FNanchor_61" id="FNanchor_61"></a><a href="#Footnote_61" class="fnanchor">[61]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Red Battle stamps his foot, and Nations feel the shock.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His blood-red tresses deepening in the Sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Restless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flashing afar,—and at his iron feet<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For on this morn three potent Nations meet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shed before his Shrine the blood he deems most sweet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see<a name="FNanchor_62" id="FNanchor_62"></a><a href="#Footnote_62" class="fnanchor">[62]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">(For one who hath no friend, no brother there)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their rival scarfs of mixed embroidery,<a name="FNanchor_BY" id="FNanchor_BY"></a><a href="#Footnote_BY" class="fnanchor">[by]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their various arms that glitter in the air!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What gallant War-hounds rouse them from their lair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All join the chase, but few the triumph share;<a name="FNanchor_63" id="FNanchor_63"></a><a href="#Footnote_63" class="fnanchor">[63]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three hosts combine to offer sacrifice;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Three tongues prefer strange orisons on high;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Three gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies;<a name="FNanchor_64" id="FNanchor_64"></a><a href="#Footnote_64" class="fnanchor">[64]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Foe, the Victim, and the fond Ally<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That fights for all, but ever fights in vain,<a name="FNanchor_65" id="FNanchor_65"></a><a href="#Footnote_65" class="fnanchor">[65]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are met—as if at home they could not die—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To feed the crow on Talavera's plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And fertilise the field that each pretends to gain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There shall they rot—Ambition's honoured fools!<a name="FNanchor_BZ" id="FNanchor_BZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_BZ" class="fnanchor">[bz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay!<a name="FNanchor_66" id="FNanchor_66"></a><a href="#Footnote_66" class="fnanchor">[66]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vain Sophistry! in these behold the tools,<a name="FNanchor_CA" id="FNanchor_CA"></a><a href="#Footnote_CA" class="fnanchor">[ca]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The broken tools, that Tyrants cast away<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> +<span class="i2">By myriads, when they dare to pave their way<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With human hearts—to what?—a dream alone.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can Despots compass aught that hails their sway?<a name="FNanchor_CB" id="FNanchor_CB"></a><a href="#Footnote_CB" class="fnanchor">[cb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or call with truth one span of earth their own,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Save that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief!<a name="FNanchor_CC" id="FNanchor_CC"></a><a href="#Footnote_CC" class="fnanchor">[cc]</a><a name="FNanchor_67" id="FNanchor_67"></a><a href="#Footnote_67" class="fnanchor">[67]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim pricked his steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed!<a name="FNanchor_CD" id="FNanchor_CD"></a><a href="#Footnote_CD" class="fnanchor">[cd]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peace to the perished! may the warrior's meed<a name="FNanchor_CE" id="FNanchor_CE"></a><a href="#Footnote_CE" class="fnanchor">[ce]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tears of triumph their reward prolong!<a name="FNanchor_CF" id="FNanchor_CF"></a><a href="#Footnote_CF" class="fnanchor">[cf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till others fall where other chieftains lead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy name shall circle round the gaping throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shine in worthless lays, the theme of transient song.<a name="FNanchor_CG" id="FNanchor_CG"></a><a href="#Footnote_CG" class="fnanchor">[cg]</a><a name="FNanchor_68" id="FNanchor_68"></a><a href="#Footnote_68" class="fnanchor">[68]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span></p> +<h4>XLIV.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enough of Battle's minions! let them play<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their game of lives, and barter breath for fame:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fame that will scarce reanimate their clay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though thousands fall to deck some single name.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who strike, blest hirelings! for their country's good,<a name="FNanchor_CH" id="FNanchor_CH"></a><a href="#Footnote_CH" class="fnanchor">[ch]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And die, that living might have proved her shame;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perished, perchance, in some domestic feud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path pursued.<a name="FNanchor_CI" id="FNanchor_CI"></a><a href="#Footnote_CI" class="fnanchor">[ci]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full swiftly Harold wends his lonely way<a name="FNanchor_CJ" id="FNanchor_CJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_CJ" class="fnanchor">[cj]</a><a name="FNanchor_69" id="FNanchor_69"></a><a href="#Footnote_69" class="fnanchor">[69]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued:<a name="FNanchor_CK" id="FNanchor_CK"></a><a href="#Footnote_CK" class="fnanchor">[ck]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet is she free? the Spoiler's wished-for prey!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon, soon shall Conquest's fiery foot intrude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blackening her lovely domes with traces rude.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inevitable hour! 'Gainst fate to strive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Desolation plants her famished brood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is vain, or Ilion, Tyre might yet survive,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to thrive<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span></p> +<h4>XLVI.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But all unconscious of the coming doom,<a name="FNanchor_70" id="FNanchor_70"></a><a href="#Footnote_70" class="fnanchor">[70]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feast, the song, the revel here abounds;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strange modes of merriment the hours consume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor bleed these patriots with their country's wounds:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor here War's clarion, but Love's rebeck<a name="FNanchor_71" id="FNanchor_71"></a><a href="#Footnote_71" class="fnanchor">[71]</a> sounds;<a name="FNanchor_CL" id="FNanchor_CL"></a><a href="#Footnote_CL" class="fnanchor">[cl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here Folly still his votaries inthralls;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds:<a name="FNanchor_CM" id="FNanchor_CM"></a><a href="#Footnote_CM" class="fnanchor">[cm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not so the rustic—with his trembling mate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest he should view his vineyard desolate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blasted below the dun hot breath of War.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more beneath soft Eve's consenting star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fandango twirls his jocund castanet:<a name="FNanchor_72" id="FNanchor_72"></a><a href="#Footnote_72" class="fnanchor">[72]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, Monarchs! could ye taste the mirth ye mar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret;<a name="FNanchor_CN" id="FNanchor_CN"></a><a href="#Footnote_CN" class="fnanchor">[cn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_XLVIII" name="CI_XLVIII"></a>XLVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">How carols now the lusty muleteer?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Love, Romance, Devotion is his lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His quick bells wildly jingling on the way?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No! as he speeds, he chants "Vivā el Rey!" <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_8">[8.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And checks his song to execrate Godoy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The royal wittol Charles, and curse the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When first Spain's queen beheld the black-eyed boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gore-faced Treason sprung from her adulterate joy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On yon long level plain, at distance crowned<a name="FNanchor_73" id="FNanchor_73"></a><a href="#Footnote_73" class="fnanchor">[73]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets rest,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Wide-scattered hoof-marks dint the wounded ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, scathed by fire, the greensward's darkened vest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tells that the foe was Andalusia's guest:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here the bold peasant stormed the Dragon's nest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still does he mark it with triumphant boast,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And points to yonder cliffs, which oft were won and lost.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_L" name="CI_L"></a>L.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And whomsoe'er along the path you meet<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet: <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_9">[9.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Woe to the man that walks in public view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without of loyalty this token true:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sharp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Could blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the cannon's smoke.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_LI" name="CI_LI"></a>LI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">At every turn Morena's dusky height<a name="FNanchor_74" id="FNanchor_74"></a><a href="#Footnote_74" class="fnanchor">[74]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sustains aloft the battery's iron load;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, far as mortal eye can compass sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain-howitzer, the broken road,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The bristling palisade, the fosse o'erflowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stationed bands, the never-vacant watch,<a name="FNanchor_CO" id="FNanchor_CO"></a><a href="#Footnote_CO" class="fnanchor">[co]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The magazine in rocky durance stowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bolstered steed beneath the shed of thatch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_10">[10.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Portend the deeds to come:—but he whose nod<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little moment deigneth to delay:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon will his legions sweep through these their way;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The West must own the Scourger of the world.<a name="FNanchor_CP" id="FNanchor_CP"></a><a href="#Footnote_CP" class="fnanchor">[cp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! Spain! how sad will be thy reckoning-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings unfurled,<a name="FNanchor_CQ" id="FNanchor_CQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_CQ" class="fnanchor">[cq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thou shall view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And must they fall? the young, the proud, the brave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To swell one bloated Chiefs unwholesome reign?<a name="FNanchor_75" id="FNanchor_75"></a><a href="#Footnote_75" class="fnanchor">[75]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">No step between submission and a grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rise of Rapine and the fall of Spain?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And doth the Power that man adores ordain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their doom, nor heed the suppliant's appeal?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is all that desperate Valour acts in vain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Counsel sage, and patriotic Zeal—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Veteran's skill—Youth's fire—and Manhood's heart of steel?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it for this the Spanish maid, aroused,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, all unsexed, the Anlace<a name="FNanchor_76" id="FNanchor_76"></a><a href="#Footnote_76" class="fnanchor">[76]</a> hath espoused,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sung the loud song, and dared the deed of war?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And she, whom once the semblance of a scar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Appalled, an owlet's 'larum chilled with dread,<a name="FNanchor_77" id="FNanchor_77"></a><a href="#Footnote_77" class="fnanchor">[77]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now views the column-scattering bay'net jar,<a name="FNanchor_CR" id="FNanchor_CR"></a><a href="#Footnote_CR" class="fnanchor">[cr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stalks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye who shall marvel when you hear her tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! had you known her in her softer hour,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Marked her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heard her light, lively tones in Lady's bower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seen her long locks that foil the painter's power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her fairy form, with more than female grace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scarce would you deem that Saragoza's tower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thin the closed ranks, and lead in Glory's fearful chase.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_LVI" name="CI_LVI"></a>LVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her lover sinks—she sheds no ill-timed tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her Chief is slain—she fills his fatal post;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her fellows flee—she checks their base career;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Foe retires—she heads the sallying host:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who can appease like her a lover's ghost?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who can avenge so well a leader's fall?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Foiled by a woman's hand, before a battered wall? <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_11">[11.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet are Spain's maids no race of Amazons,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But formed for all the witching arts of love:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though thus in arms they emulate her sons,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And in the horrid phalanx dare to move,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In softness as in firmness far above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remoter females, famed for sickening prate;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her mind is nobler sure, her charms perchance as great.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CI_LVIII" name="CI_LVIII"></a>LVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The seal Love's dimpling finger hath impressed<a name="FNanchor_CS" id="FNanchor_CS"></a><a href="#Footnote_CS" class="fnanchor">[cs]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch: <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_12">[12.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bid man be valiant ere he merit such:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her glance how wildly beautiful! how much<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath Phoebus wooed in vain to spoil her cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who round the North for paler dames would seek?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How poor their forms appear! how languid, wan, and weak!<a name="FNanchor_78" id="FNanchor_78"></a><a href="#Footnote_78" class="fnanchor">[78]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Match me, ye climes! which poets love to laud;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Match me, ye harems of the land! where now<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> +<span class="i2">I strike my strain, far distant, to applaud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beauties that ev'n a cynic must avow;<a name="FNanchor_CT" id="FNanchor_CT"></a><a href="#Footnote_CT" class="fnanchor">[ct]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce allow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To taste the gale lest Love should ride the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Spain's dark-glancing daughters—deign to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There your wise Prophet's Paradise we find,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_LX" name="CI_LX"></a>LX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou Parnassus! whom I now survey,<a name="FNanchor_79" id="FNanchor_79"></a><a href="#Footnote_79" class="fnanchor">[79]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_13">[13.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in the phrensy of a dreamer's eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in the fabled landscape of a lay,<a name="FNanchor_CU" id="FNanchor_CU"></a><a href="#Footnote_CU" class="fnanchor">[cu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But soaring snow-clad through thy native sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the wild pomp of mountain-majesty!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What marvel if I thus essay to sing?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The humblest of thy pilgrims passing by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though from thy heights no more one Muse will wave her wing.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> +<h4>LXI.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oft have I dreamed of Thee! whose glorious name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now I view thee—'tis, alas, with shame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That I in feeblest accents must adore.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When I recount thy worshippers of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I tremble, and can only bend the knee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In silent joy to think at last I look on Thee!<a name="FNanchor_80" id="FNanchor_80"></a><a href="#Footnote_80" class="fnanchor">[80]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Happier in this than mightiest Bards have been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose Fate to distant homes confined their lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall I unmoved behold the hallowed scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which others rave of, though they know it not?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though here no more Apollo haunts his Grot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Some gentle Spirit still pervades the spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sighs in the gale, keeps silence in the Cave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious wave.<a name="FNanchor_CV" id="FNanchor_CV"></a><a href="#Footnote_CV" class="fnanchor">[cv]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of thee hereafter.—Ev'n amidst my strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I turned aside to pay my homage here;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her fate, to every freeborn bosom dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hailed thee, not perchance without a tear.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now to my theme—but from thy holy haunt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let me some remnant, some memorial bear;<a name="FNanchor_CW" id="FNanchor_CW"></a><a href="#Footnote_CW" class="fnanchor">[cw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor let thy votary's hope be deemed an idle vaunt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ne'er didst thou, fair Mount! when Greece was young,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See round thy giant base a brighter choir,<a name="FNanchor_81" id="FNanchor_81"></a><a href="#Footnote_81" class="fnanchor">[81]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor e'er did Delphi, when her Priestess sung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Pythian hymn with more than mortal fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behold a train more fitting to inspire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The song of love, than Andalusia's maids,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Nurst in the glowing lap of soft Desire:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! that to these were given such peaceful shades<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly her glades.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_LXV" name="CI_LXV"></a>LXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair is proud Seville; let her country boast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days; +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_14">[14.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Cadiz, rising on the distant coast,<a name="FNanchor_82" id="FNanchor_82"></a><a href="#Footnote_82" class="fnanchor">[82]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape<a name="FNanchor_CX" id="FNanchor_CX"></a><a href="#Footnote_CX" class="fnanchor">[cx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fascination of thy magic gaze?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Cherub-Hydra round us dost thou gape,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Paphos fell by Time—accurséd Time!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Queen who conquers all must yield to thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Venus, constant to her native Sea,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To nought else constant, hither deigned to flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fixed her shrine within these walls of white:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Though not to one dome circumscribeth She<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her worship, but, devoted to her rite,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand Altars rise, for ever blazing bright.<a name="FNanchor_83" id="FNanchor_83"></a><a href="#Footnote_83" class="fnanchor">[83]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From morn till night, from night till startled Morn<a name="FNanchor_84" id="FNanchor_84"></a><a href="#Footnote_84" class="fnanchor">[84]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peeps blushing on the Revel's laughing crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Song is heard, the rosy Garland worn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Devices quaint, and Frolics ever new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tread on each other's kibes.<a name="FNanchor_85" id="FNanchor_85"></a><a href="#Footnote_85" class="fnanchor">[85]</a> A long adieu<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He bids to sober joy that here sojourns:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nought interrupts the riot, though in lieu<a name="FNanchor_CY" id="FNanchor_CY"></a><a href="#Footnote_CY" class="fnanchor">[cy]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of true devotion monkish incense burns,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Love and Prayer unite, or rule the hour by turns.<a name="FNanchor_CZ" id="FNanchor_CZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_CZ" class="fnanchor">[cz]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<h4>LXVIII.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What hallows it upon this Christian shore?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo! it is sacred to a solemn Feast:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark! heard you not the forest-monarch's roar?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting gore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of man and steed, o'erthrown beneath his horn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thronged arena shakes with shouts for more;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly torn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor shrinks the female eye, nor ev'n affects to mourn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIX.<a name="FNanchor_86" id="FNanchor_86"></a><a href="#Footnote_86" class="fnanchor">[86]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The seventh day this—the Jubilee of man!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">London! right well thou know'st the day of prayer:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then thy spruce citizen, washed artisan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy coach of hackney, whiskey,<a name="FNanchor_87" id="FNanchor_87"></a><a href="#Footnote_87" class="fnanchor">[87]</a> one-horse chair,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl,<a name="FNanchor_DA" id="FNanchor_DA"></a><a href="#Footnote_DA" class="fnanchor">[da]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow make repair;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian churl.<a name="FNanchor_DB" id="FNanchor_DB"></a><a href="#Footnote_DB" class="fnanchor">[db]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_LXX" name="CI_LXX"></a>LXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some o'er thy Thamis row the ribboned fair,<a name="FNanchor_DC" id="FNanchor_DC"></a><a href="#Footnote_DC" class="fnanchor">[dc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Others along the safer turnpike fly;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to Ware,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many to the steep of Highgate hie.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ask ye, Boeotian Shades! the reason why? <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_15">[15.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn,<a name="FNanchor_88" id="FNanchor_88"></a><a href="#Footnote_88" class="fnanchor">[88]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Grasped in the holy hand of Mystery,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till morn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All have their fooleries—not alike are thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fair Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea!<a name="FNanchor_89" id="FNanchor_89"></a><a href="#Footnote_89" class="fnanchor">[89]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon as the Matin bell proclaimeth nine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy Saint-adorers count the Rosary:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Much is the <span class="smcap">Virgin</span> teased to shrive them free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Well do I ween the only virgin there)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then to the crowded circus forth they fare:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Young, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lists are oped, the spacious area cleared,<a name="FNanchor_90" id="FNanchor_90"></a><a href="#Footnote_90" class="fnanchor">[90]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thousands on thousands piled are seated round;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Long ere the first loud trumpet's note is heard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne vacant space for lated wight is found:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here Dons, Grandees, but chiefly Dames abound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Skilled in the ogle of a roguish eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">None through their cold disdain are doomed to die,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As moon-struck bards complain, by Love's sad archery.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hushed is the din of tongues—on gallant steeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-poised lance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Four cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lowly-bending to the lists advance;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Rich are their scarfs, their chargers featly prance:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If in the dangerous game they shine to-day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crowd's loud shout and ladies' lovely glance,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Best prize of better acts! they bear away,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In costly sheen and gaudy cloak arrayed.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But all afoot, the light-limbed Matadore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stands in the centre, eager to invade<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lord of lowing herds; but not before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The ground, with cautious tread, is traversed o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can Man achieve without the friendly steed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alas! too oft condemned for him to bear and bleed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thrice sounds the Clarion; lo! the signal falls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The den expands, and Expectation mute<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His first attack, wide-waving to and fro<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His angry tail; red rolls his eye's dilated glow.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sudden he stops—his eye is fixed—away—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now is thy time, to perish, or display<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The skill that yet may check his mad career!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With well-timed croupe<a name="FNanchor_91" id="FNanchor_91"></a><a href="#Footnote_91" class="fnanchor">[91]</a> the nimble coursers veer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On foams the Bull, but not unscathed he goes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dart follows dart—lance, lance—loud bellowings speak his woes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Again he comes; nor dart nor lance avail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though Man and Man's avenging arms assail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One gallant steed is stretched a mangled corse;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Another, hideous sight! unseamed appears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His gory chest unveils life's panting source;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Staggering, but stemming all, his Lord unharmed he bears.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>LXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Foiled, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full in the centre stands the Bull at bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast,<a name="FNanchor_92" id="FNanchor_92"></a><a href="#Footnote_92" class="fnanchor">[92]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And foes disabled in the brutal fray:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now the Matadores<a name="FNanchor_93" id="FNanchor_93"></a><a href="#Footnote_93" class="fnanchor">[93]</a> around him play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Once more through all he bursts his thundering way—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wraps his fierce eye—'tis past—he sinks upon the sand!<a name="FNanchor_DD" id="FNanchor_DD"></a><a href="#Footnote_DD" class="fnanchor">[dd]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sheathed in his form the deadly weapon lies.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He stops—he starts—disdaining to decline:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without a groan, without a struggle dies.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The decorated car appears—on high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The corse is piled—sweet sight for vulgar eyes—<a name="FNanchor_DE" id="FNanchor_DE"></a><a href="#Footnote_DE" class="fnanchor">[de]</a><a name="FNanchor_94" id="FNanchor_94"></a><a href="#Footnote_94" class="fnanchor">[94]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Four steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such the ungentle sport that oft invites<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nurtured in blood betimes, his heart delights<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vengeance, gloating on another's pain.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What private feuds the troubled village stain!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though now one phalanxed host should meet the foe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enough, alas! in humble homes remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meditate 'gainst friend the secret blow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some slight cause of wrath, whence Life's warm stream must flow.<a name="FNanchor_95" id="FNanchor_95"></a><a href="#Footnote_95" class="fnanchor">[95]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Jealousy has fled: his bars, his bolts,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His withered Centinel,<a name="FNanchor_96" id="FNanchor_96"></a><a href="#Footnote_96" class="fnanchor">[96]</a> Duenna sage!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all whereat the generous soul revolts,<a name="FNanchor_DF" id="FNanchor_DF"></a><a href="#Footnote_DF" class="fnanchor">[df]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which the stern dotard deemed he could encage,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Have passed to darkness with the vanished age.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who late so free as Spanish girls were seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Ere War uprose in his volcanic rage,)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With braided tresses bounding o'er the green,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While on the gay dance shone Night's lover-loving Queen?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_LXXXII" name="CI_LXXXII"></a>LXXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! many a time and oft, had Harold loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or dreamed he loved, since Rapture is a dream;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now his wayward bosom was unmoved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For not yet had he drunk of Lethe's stream;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lately had he learned with truth to deem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love has no gift so grateful as his wings:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How fair, how young, how soft soe'er he seem,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs<a name="FNanchor_DG" id="FNanchor_DG"></a><a href="#Footnote_DG" class="fnanchor">[dg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_16">[16.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though now it moved him as it moves the wise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not that Philosophy on such a mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E'er deigned to bend her chastely-awful eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Passion raves herself<a name="FNanchor_97" id="FNanchor_97"></a><a href="#Footnote_97" class="fnanchor">[97]</a> to rest, or flies;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise:<a name="FNanchor_DH" id="FNanchor_DH"></a><a href="#Footnote_DH" class="fnanchor">[dh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pleasure's palled Victim! life-abhorring Gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrote on his faded brow curst Cain's unresting doom.<a name="FNanchor_98" id="FNanchor_98"></a><a href="#Footnote_98" class="fnanchor">[98]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still he beheld, nor mingled with the throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But viewed them not with misanthropic hate:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fain would he now have joined the dance, the song;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But who may smile that sinks beneath his fate?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nought that he saw his sadness could abate:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet once he struggled 'gainst the Demon's sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as in Beauty's bower he pensive sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poured forth his unpremeditated lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To charms as fair as those that soothed his happier day.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<h3><a name="TO_INEZ" id="TO_INEZ"></a>TO INEZ. +<a name="FNanchor_99" id="FNanchor_99"></a><a href="#Footnote_99" class="fnanchor">[99]</a> +</h3> + + +<h4>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><span class="smcap">Nay</span>, smile not at my sullen brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Alas! I cannot smile again:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Yet Heaven avert that ever thou<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And dost thou ask what secret woe<br /></span> +<span class="i6">I bear, corroding Joy and Youth?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And wilt thou vainly seek to know<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A pang, ev'n thou must fail to soothe?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">It is not love, it is not hate,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Nor low Ambition's honours lost,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +<span class="i4">That bids me loathe my present state,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And fly from all I prized the most:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">It is that weariness which springs<br /></span> +<span class="i6">From all I meet, or hear, or see:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To me no pleasure Beauty brings;<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>5.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">It is that settled, ceaseless gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The fabled Hebrew Wanderer bore;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">That will not look beyond the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">But cannot hope for rest before.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">What Exile from himself can flee?<a name="FNanchor_100" id="FNanchor_100"></a><a href="#Footnote_100" class="fnanchor">[100]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i6">To zones though more and more remote,<a name="FNanchor_DI" id="FNanchor_DI"></a><a href="#Footnote_DI" class="fnanchor">[di]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still, still pursues, where'er I be,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">The blight of Life—the Demon Thought.<a name="FNanchor_101" id="FNanchor_101"></a><a href="#Footnote_101" class="fnanchor">[101]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Yet others rapt in pleasure seem,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And taste of all that I forsake;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> +<span class="i4">Oh! may they still of transport dream,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">And ne'er—at least like me—awake!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>8.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Through many a clime 'tis mine to go,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">With many a retrospection curst;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And all my solace is to know,<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Whate'er betides, I've known the worst.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>9.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">What is that worst? Nay do not ask—<br /></span> +<span class="i6">In pity from the search forbear:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Smile on—nor venture to unmask<br /></span> +<span class="i6">Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib">Jan. 25. 1810.—[MS.]</p> + +<h4><a id="CI_LXXXV" name="CI_LXXXV"></a>LXXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who may forget how well thy walls have stood?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all were changing thou alone wert true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First to be free and last to be subdued;<a name="FNanchor_102" id="FNanchor_102"></a><a href="#Footnote_102" class="fnanchor">[102]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if amidst a scene, a shock so rude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some native blood was seen thy streets to dye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Traitor only fell beneath the feud:<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_17">[17.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here all were noble, save Nobility;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">None hugged a Conqueror's chain, save fallen Chivalry!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CI_LXXXVI" name="CI_LXXXVI"></a>LXXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her Fate!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They fight for Freedom who were never free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Kingless people for a nerveless state;<a name="FNanchor_103" id="FNanchor_103"></a><a href="#Footnote_103" class="fnanchor">[103]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her vassals combat when their Chieftains flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True to the veriest slaves of Treachery:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fond of a land which gave them nought but life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride points the path that leads to Liberty;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Back to the struggle, baffled in the strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">War, war is still the cry, "War even to the knife!" +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_18">[18.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know<a name="FNanchor_DJ" id="FNanchor_DJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_DJ" class="fnanchor">[dj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Go, read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Whate'er keen Vengeance urged on foreign foe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can act, is acting there against man's life:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +<span class="i2">From flashing scimitar to secret knife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">War mouldeth there each weapon to his need—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So may he guard the sister and the wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So may he make each curst oppressor bleed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXXVIII.<a name="FNanchor_104" id="FNanchor_104"></a><a href="#Footnote_104" class="fnanchor">[104]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Flows there a tear of Pity for the dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look o'er the ravage of the reeking plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look on the hands with female slaughter red;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then to the vulture let each corse remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Albeit unworthy of the prey-bird's maw;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let their bleached bones, and blood's unbleaching stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long mark the battle-field with hideous awe:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus only may our sons conceive the scenes we saw!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor yet, alas! the dreadful work is done;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh legions pour adown the Pyrenees:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It deepens still, the work is scarce begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor mortal eye the distant end foresees.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fall'n nations gaze on Spain; if freed, she frees<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More than her fell Pizarros once enchained:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strange retribution! now Columbia's ease<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Repairs the wrongs that Quito's sons sustained,<a name="FNanchor_105" id="FNanchor_105"></a><a href="#Footnote_105" class="fnanchor">[105]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">While o'er the parent clime prowls Murder unrestrained.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span></p> +<h4>XC.</h4> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not all the blood at Talavera shed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not Albuera lavish of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have won for Spain her well asserted right.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shall her Olive-Branch be free from blight?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When shall she breathe her from the blushing toil?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How many a doubtful day shall sink in night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil!<a name="FNanchor_106" id="FNanchor_106"></a><a href="#Footnote_106" class="fnanchor">[106]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CI_XCI" name="CI_XCI"></a>XCI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, my friend!—since unavailing woe<a name="FNanchor_DK" id="FNanchor_DK"></a><a href="#Footnote_DK" class="fnanchor">[dk]</a><a name="FNanchor_107" id="FNanchor_107"></a><a href="#Footnote_107" class="fnanchor">[107]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_I_19">[19.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +<span class="i1">Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But thus unlaurelled to descend in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By all forgotten, save the lonely breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, known the earliest, and esteemed the most!<a name="FNanchor_DL" id="FNanchor_DL"></a><a href="#Footnote_DL" class="fnanchor">[dl]</a><a name="FNanchor_108" id="FNanchor_108"></a><a href="#Footnote_108" class="fnanchor">[108]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dear to a heart where nought was left so dear!<a name="FNanchor_DM" id="FNanchor_DM"></a><a href="#Footnote_DM" class="fnanchor">[dm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though to my hopeless days for ever lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In dreams deny me not to see thee here!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Morn in secret shall renew the tear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Consciousness awaking to her woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier,<a name="FNanchor_DN" id="FNanchor_DN"></a><a href="#Footnote_DN" class="fnanchor">[dn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till my frail frame return to whence it rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And mourned and mourner lie united in repose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here is one fytte<a name="FNanchor_109" id="FNanchor_109"></a><a href="#Footnote_109" class="fnanchor">[109]</a> of Harold's pilgrimage:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye who of him may further seek to know,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Shall find some tidings in a future page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If he that rhymeth now may scribble moe.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is this too much? stern Critic! say not so:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Patience! and ye shall hear what he beheld<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In other lands, where he was doomed to go:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lands that contain the monuments of Eld,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere Greece and Grecian arts by barbarous hands were quelled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1" id="Footnote_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> "The first and second cantos of <i>Childe Harold</i> were +written in separate portions by the noble author. They were afterwards +arranged for publication; and when thus arranged, the whole was copied. +This copy was placed in Lord Byron's hands, and he made various +alterations, corrections, and large additions. These, together with the +notes, are in his Lordship's own handwriting. The manuscript thus +corrected was sent to the press, and was printed under the direction of +Robt. Chas. Dallas, Esq., to whom Lord Byron had given the copyright of +the poem. The MS., as it came from the printers, was preserved by Mr. +Dallas, and is now in the possession of his son, the Rev. Alex. Dallas." +</p><p> +[See Dallas Transcript, p. 1. Mus. Brit. Bibl. Egerton, 2027. Press 526. +H. T.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_A" id="Footnote_A"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A"><span class="label">[a]</span></a> <a id="Note_3" name="Note_3">{3}</a> <i>Advertisement to be prefixed y<span class="sup">e</span> Poem</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_B" id="Footnote_B"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B"><span class="label">[b]</span></a> <i>Professes to describe</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_C" id="Footnote_C"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C"><span class="label">[c]</span></a> ——<i>that in the fictitious character of "Childe Harold" I +may incur the suspicion of having drawn "from myself." This I beg leave +once for all to disclaim. I wanted a character to give some connection +to the poem, and the one adopted suited my purpose as well as any +other</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_D" id="Footnote_D"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D"><span class="label">[d]</span></a> <a id="Note_4" name="Note_4">{4}</a> <i>Such an idea</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_E" id="Footnote_E"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E"><span class="label">[e]</span></a> <i>My readers will observe that where the author speaks in +his own person he assumes a very different tone from that of</i> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The cheerless thing, the man without a friend</i>,"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<i>at least, till death had deprived him of his nearest connections</i>. +</p><p> +<i>I crave pardon for this Egotism, which proceeds from my wish to discard +any probable imputation of it to the text</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2" id="Footnote_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> ["In the 13th and 14th centuries the word 'child,' which +signifies a youth of gentle birth, appears to have been applied to a +young noble awaiting knighthood, e.g. in the romances of <i>Ipomydon</i>, +<i>Sir Tryamour</i>, etc. It is frequently used by our old writers as a +title, and is repeatedly given to Prince Arthur in the <i>Faërie +Queene</i>"—(<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Childe"). +</p><p> +Byron uses the word in the Spenserian sense, as a title implying youth +and nobility.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3" id="Footnote_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> [John, Lord Maxwell, slew Sir James Johnstone at +Achmanhill, April 6, 1608, in revenge for his father's defeat and death +at Dryffe Sands, in 1593. He was forced to flee to France. Hence his +"Good Night." Scott's ballad is taken, with "some slight variations," +from a copy in Glenriddel's MSS.—<i>Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border</i>, +1810, i. 290-300.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4" id="Footnote_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> [Amongst others, <i>The Battle of Talavera</i>, by John Wilson +Croker, appeared in 1809; <i>The Vision of Don Roderick</i>, by Walter Scott, +in 1811; and <i>Portugal, a Poem</i>, by Lord George Grenville, in 1812.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_F" id="Footnote_F"></a><a href="#FNanchor_F"><span class="label">[f]</span></a> <i>Some casual coincidence</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5" id="Footnote_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> <a id="Note_5" name="Note_5">{5}</a> Beattie's Letters. [See letter to Dr. Blacklock, +September 22, 1766 (<i>Life of Beattie</i>, by Sir W. Forbes, 1806, i. 89).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_G" id="Footnote_G"></a><a href="#FNanchor_G"><span class="label">[g]</span></a> <i>Satisfied that their failure</i>.—[MS. B.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6" id="Footnote_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> [See <i>Quarterly Review</i>, March, 1812, vol. vii. p. 191: +"The moral code of chivalry was not, we admit, quite pure and spotless, +but its laxity on some points was redeemed by the noble spirit of +gallantry which courted personal danger in the defence of the sovereign +... of women because they are often lovely, and always helpless; and of +the priesthood.... Now, <i>Childe Harold</i>, if not absolutely craven and +recreant, is at least a mortal enemy to all martial exertion, a scoffer +at the fair sex, and, apparently, disposed to consider all religions as +different modes of superstition." The tone of the review is severer than +the Preface indicates. Nor does Byron attempt to reply to the main issue +of the indictment, an unknightly aversion from war, but rides off on a +minor point, the licentiousness of the Troubadours.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7" id="Footnote_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> <a id="Note_6" name="Note_6">{6}</a> [See <i>Mémoires sur l'Ancienne Chevalerie</i>, par M. De la +Curne de Sainte-Palaye, Paris, 1781: "Qu'on lise dans l'auteur du roman +de Gérard de Roussillon, en Provençal, les détails très-circonstanciés +dans lesquels il entre sur la réception faite par le Comte Gérard à +l'ambassadeur du roi Charles; on y verra des particularités singulières +qui donnent une etrange idée des moeurs et de la politesse de ces +siècles aussi corrompus qu'ignorans" (ii. 69). See, too, <i>ibid., ante</i>, +p. 65: "Si l'on juge des moeurs d'un siècle par les écrits qui nous en +sont restés, nous serons en droit de juger que nos ancêtres observèrent +mal les loix que leur prescrivirent la décence et l'honnêteté."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8" id="Footnote_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> [See <i>Recherches sur les Prérogatives des Dames chez les +Gaulois sur les Cours d'Amours</i>, par M. le Président Rolland +[d'Erceville], de l'Académie d'Amiens. Paris, 1787, pp. 18-30, 117, +etc.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9" id="Footnote_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> [The phrase occurs in <i>The Rovers, or the Double +Arrangement</i> (<i>Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin</i>, 1854, p. 199), by J. Hookham +Frere, a skit on the "moral inculcated by the German dramas—the +reciprocal duties of one or more husbands to one or more wives." The +waiter at the Golden Eagle at Weimar is a warrior in disguise, and +rescues the hero, who is imprisoned in the abbey of Quedlinburgh.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10" id="Footnote_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> <a id="Note_7" name="Note_7">{7}</a> ["But the age of chivalry is gone—the unbought grace +of life, the cheap defence of nations," etc. (<i>Reflections on the +Revolution in France</i>, by the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, M.P., 1868, p. +89).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11" id="Footnote_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> [Passages relating to the Queen of Tahiti, in +<i>Hawkesworth's Voyages, drawn from journals kept by the several +commanders, and from the papers of Joseph Banks, Esq.</i> (1773, ii. 106), +gave occasion to malicious and humorous comment. (See <i>An Epistle from +Mr. Banks, Voyager, Monster-hunter, and Amoroso, To Oberea, Queen of +Otaheite</i>, by A.B.C.) The lampoon, "printed at Batavia for Jacobus +Opani" (the Queen's Tahitian for "Banks"), was published in 1773. The +authorship is assigned to Major John Scott Waring (1747-1819).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12" id="Footnote_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> <a id="Note_8" name="Note_8">{8}</a> [Compare <i>Childish Recollections: Poetical Works</i>, +1898, i. 84, <i>var</i>. i.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Weary of love, of life, devour'd with spleen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I rest a perfect Timon, not nineteen."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13" id="Footnote_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> [John Moore (1729-1802), the father of the celebrated Sir +John Moore, published <i>Zeluco. Various views of Human Nature, taken from +Life and Manners, Foreign and Domestic</i>, in 1789. Zeluco was an +unmitigated scoundrel, who led an adventurous life; but the prolix +narrative of his villanies does not recall <i>Childe Harold</i>. There is, +perhaps, some resemblance between Zeluco's unbridled childhood and +youth, due to the indulgence of a doting mother, and Byron's early +emancipation from discipline and control.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_H" id="Footnote_H"></a><a href="#FNanchor_H"><span class="label">[h]</span></a> <a id="Note_11" name="Note_11">{11}</a> <i>To the Lady Charlotte Harley</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14" id="Footnote_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> [The Lady Charlotte Mary Harley, second daughter of +Edward, fifth Earl of Oxford and Mortimer, was born 1801. She married, +in 1823, Captain Anthony Bacon (died July 2, 1864), who had followed +"young, gallant Howard" (see <i>Childe Harold</i>, III. xxix.) in his last +fatal charge at Waterloo, and who, subsequently, during the progress of +the civil war between Dom Miguel and Maria da Gloria of Portugal +(1828-33), held command as colonel of cavalry in the Queen's forces, and +finally as a general officer. Lady Charlotte Bacon died May 9, 1880. +Byron's acquaintance with her probably dated from his visit to Lord and +Lady Oxford, at Eywood House, in Herefordshire, in October-November, +1812. Her portrait, by Westall, which was painted at his request, is +included among the illustrations in Finden's <i>Illustrations of the Life +and Works of Lord Byron</i>, ii. See <i>Gent. Mag</i>., N.S., vol. xvii. (1864) +p. 261; and an obituary notice in the Times, May 10, 1880, See, too, +letter to Murray, March 29, 1813 (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 200).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15" id="Footnote_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> <a id="Note_12" name="Note_12">{12}</a> [The reference is to the French proverb, <i>L'Amitié +est l'Amour sans Ailes</i>, which suggested the last line (line 412) of +<i>Childish Recollections</i>, "And Love, without his pinion, smil'd on +youth," and forms the title of one of the early poems, first published +in 1832 (<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 106, 220).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16" id="Footnote_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> +[In 1814, when the dedication was published, Byron +completed his twenty-sixth year, Ianthe her thirteenth.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17" id="Footnote_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> +<a id="Note_13" name="Note_13">{13}</a> [For the modulation of the verse, compare Pope's +lines— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Correctly cold, and regularly low."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"> +<i>Essay on Criticism</i>, line 240. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Glows while he reads, but trembles as he writes."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="attrib"><i>Ibid</i>., line 198.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18" id="Footnote_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> +[Ianthe ("Flower o' the Narcissus") was the name of a +Cretan girl wedded to one Iphis (<i>vid</i>. Ovid., <i>Metamorph</i>., ix. 714). +Perhaps Byron's dedication was responsible for the Ianthe of <i>Queen Mab</i> +(1812, 1813), who in turn bestowed her name on Shelley's eldest daughter +(Mrs. Esdaile, d. 1876), who was born June 28, 1813.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_I" id="Footnote_I"></a><a href="#FNanchor_I"><span class="label">[i]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And long as kinder eyes shall deign to cast</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A look along my page, that name enshrined</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Shalt thou be</i> first <i>beheld, forgotten</i> last.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_J" id="Footnote_J"></a><a href="#FNanchor_J"><span class="label">[j]</span></a> +<a id="Note_14" name="Note_14">{14}</a> <i>Though more than Hope can claim—Ah! less could I +require?</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19" id="Footnote_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> <a id="Note_15" name="Note_15">{15}</a> [The MS. does not open with stanza i., which was +written after Byron returned to England, and appears first in the Dallas +Transcript (see letter to Murray, September 5, 1811). Byron and Hobhouse +visited Delphi, December 16, 1809, when the First Canto (see stanza lx.) +was approaching completion (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, by Lord Broughton, +1858, i. 199).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_K" id="Footnote_K"></a><a href="#FNanchor_K"><span class="label">[k]</span></a> <i>Oh, thou of yore esteemed</i>——.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_L" id="Footnote_L"></a><a href="#FNanchor_L"><span class="label">[l]</span></a> <i>Since later lyres are only strung on earth</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20" id="Footnote_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> +[For the substitution of the text for <i>vars</i>. <a href="#Footnote_L">ii.</a>, <a href="#Footnote_M">iii.</a>, +see letter to Dallas, September 21, 1811 (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 43).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_M" id="Footnote_M"></a><a href="#FNanchor_M"><span class="label">[m]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">——<i>thy glorious rill</i>.—[D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, —<i>wooed thee, drank the vaunted rill</i>.—[D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_N" id="Footnote_N"></a><a href="#FNanchor_N"><span class="label">[n]</span></a> <a id="Note_16" name="Note_16">{16}</a> <i>Sore given to revel and to Pageantry</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_O" id="Footnote_O"></a><a href="#FNanchor_O"><span class="label">[o]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>He chused the bad, and did the good affright</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With concubines</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>No earthly things</i>——.—[D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21" id="Footnote_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> ["We [i.e. Byron and C.S. Matthews] went down [April, +1809] to Newstead together, where I had got a famous cellar, and +<i>Monks'</i> dresses from a masquerade warehouse. We were a company of some +seven or eight, ... and used to sit up late in our friars' dresses, +drinking burgundy, claret, champagne, and what not, out of the +<i>skull-cup</i>, and all sorts of glasses, and buffooning all round the +house, in our conventual garments" (letter to Murray, November 19, 1820. +See, too, the account of this visit which Matthews wrote to his sister +in a letter dated May 22, 1809 [<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 150-160, and 153, +note]). Moore (<i>Life</i>, p. 86) and other apologists are anxious to point +out that the Newstead "wassailers" were, on the whole, a harmless crew +of rollicking schoolboys "—were, indeed, of habits and tastes too +intellectual for mere vulgar debauchery." And as to the "alleged +'harems,'" the "Paphian girls," there were only one or two, says Moore, +"among the ordinary menials." But, even so, the "wassailers" were not +impeccable, and it is best to leave the story, fact or fable, to speak +for itself.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22" id="Footnote_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> <a id="Note_17" name="Note_17">{17}</a> ["Hight" is the preterite of the passive "hote," and +means "was called." "Childe Harold he hight" would be more correct. +Compare Spenser's <i>Faërie Queene</i>, bk. i. c. ix. 14. 9, "She Queene of +Faeries hight." But "hight" was occasionally used with the common verbs +"is," "was." Compare <i>The Ordinary</i>, 1651, act iii. sc. 1— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">" ... the goblin<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That is <i>hight</i> Good-fellow Robin."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Dodsley (ed. Hazlitt), xii. 253.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_P" id="Footnote_P"></a><a href="#FNanchor_P"><span class="label">[p]</span></a> <i>Childe Burun</i>———.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23" id="Footnote_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> [William, fifth Lord Byron (the poet's grand-uncle), +mortally wounded his kinsman, Mr. Chaworth, in a duel which was fought, +without seconds or witnesses, at the Star and Garter Tavern, Pall Mall, +January 29, 1765. He was convicted of wilful murder by the coroner's +jury, and of manslaughter by the House of Lords; but, pleading his +privilege as a peer, he was set at liberty. He was known to the +country-side as the "wicked Lord," and many tales, true and apocryphal, +were told to his discredit (<i>Life of Lord Byron</i>, by Karl Elze, 1872, +pp. 5, 6).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Q" id="Footnote_Q"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Q"><span class="label">[q]</span></a> ———<i>nor honied glose of rhyme</i>.—[D. pencil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_R" id="Footnote_R"></a><a href="#FNanchor_R"><span class="label">[r]</span></a> <i>Childe Burun</i>———.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_S" id="Footnote_S"></a><a href="#FNanchor_S"><span class="label">[s]</span></a> <a id="Note_18" name="Note_18">{18}</a> <i>For he had on the course too swiftly run</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_T" id="Footnote_T"></a><a href="#FNanchor_T"><span class="label">[t]</span></a> <i>Had courted many</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24" id="Footnote_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> [Mary Chaworth. (Compare "Stanzas to a Lady, on leaving +England," passim: <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 285.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_U" id="Footnote_U"></a><a href="#FNanchor_U"><span class="label">[u]</span></a> ——<i>Childe Burun</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25" id="Footnote_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> <a id="Note_19" name="Note_19">{19}</a> [Compare <i>The Lay of the Last Minstrel</i>, Canto I, +stanza ix. 9— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And burning pride and high disdain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forbade the rising tears to flow."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_V" id="Footnote_V"></a><a href="#FNanchor_V"><span class="label">[v]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And strait he fell into a reverie</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>sullen reverie</i>.—[D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26" id="Footnote_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> +[<i>Vide post</i>, stanza xi. line 9, <a href="#Footnote_33">note.</a>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_W" id="Footnote_W"></a><a href="#FNanchor_W"><span class="label">[w]</span></a> <i>Strange fate directed still to uses vile</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_X" id="Footnote_X"></a><a href="#FNanchor_X"><span class="label">[x]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Now Paphian jades were heard to sing and smile</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Now Paphian nymphs</i>——.—[D. pencil.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27" id="Footnote_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> [The brass eagle which was fished out of the lake at +Newstead in the time of Byron's predecessor contained, among other +documents, "a grant of full pardon from Henry V. of every possible crime +... which the monks might have committed previous to the 8th of December +preceding (<i>Murdris</i>, per ipsos <i>post decimum nonum Diem Novembris</i>, +ultimo præteritum perpetratis, si quæ fuerint, <i>exceptis</i>)" (<i>Life</i>, p. +2, note). The monks were a constant source of delight to the Newstead +"revellers." Francis Hodgson, in his "Lines on a Ruined Abbey in a +Romantic Country" (<i>Poems</i>, 1809), does not spare them— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Hail, venerable pile!' whose ivied walls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proclaim the desolating lapse of years:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hail, ye hills, and murmuring waterfalls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where yet her head the ruin'd Abbey rears.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer now the matin tolling bell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Re-echoing loud among the woody glade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Calls the fat abbot from his drowsy cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And warns the maid to flee, if yet a maid.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No longer now the festive bowl goes round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor monks get drunk in honour of their God."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Y" id="Footnote_Y"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Y"><span class="label">[y]</span></a> <a id="Note_20" name="Note_20">{20}</a> The original MS. inserts two stanzas which were +rejected during the composition of the poem:— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6"><i>Of all his train there was a henchman page,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>peasant</i> <i>served</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>A <span class="lineout">dark eyed</span> boy, who <span class="lineout">loved</span> his master well;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And often would his pranksome prate engage</i><br /></span> +<span class="i14"><i>Harold's</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>Childe <span class="lineout">Burun's</span> ear, when his proud heart did swell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>With sable thoughts that he disdained to tell</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i34"><i>Alwin</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>Then would he smile on him, as <span class="lineout">Rupert</span> smiled,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i34"><i><span class="lineout">Robin</span></i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>When aught that from his young lips archly fell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i25"><i>Harold's</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>The gloomy film from <span class="lineout">Burun's</span> eye beguiled;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"> +<span class="uc"><i>And pleased the Childe appeared nor ere the boy reviled</i>.</span> +<span class="dc" style="margin:auto 1em auto -22.75em;"><i>And pleased for a glimpse appeared the woeful Childe</i>.</span> +<span class="bb">}</span> +</span> +<span class="i6"><i>Him and one yeoman only did he take</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>To travel Eastward to a far countree;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And though the boy was grieved to leave the lake</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>On whose firm banks he grew from Infancy,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>Eftsoons his little heart beat merrily</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>With hope of foreign nations to behold,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i6"><i>And many things right marvellous to see,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i18"><i>vaunting</i><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><i>Of which our <span class="lineout">lying</span> voyagers oft have told,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"> +<span class="uc" style="vertical-align:1em;"><i><span class="lineout">From Mandevilles' and scribes of similar mold.</span></i></span> +<span style="vertical-align:0; margin: auto 0 auto -20em;">or, <i>In tomes pricked out with prints to monied ... sold</i></span> +<span class="dc" style="vertical-align:-1em;margin:auto 2em auto -20em;"><i>In many a tome as true as Mandeville's of old</i>. </span> +<span class="bb">}</span> +</span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_Z" id="Footnote_Z"></a><a href="#FNanchor_Z"><span class="label">[z]</span></a> ——<i>Childe Burun</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AA" id="Footnote_AA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AA"><span class="label">[aa]</span></a> <a id="Note_21" name="Note_21">{21}</a> Stanza ix. was the result of much elaboration. The +first draft, which was pasted over the rejected stanzas (<i>vide supra</i>, +p. 20, <a href="#Footnote_Y"><i>var</i>. i</a>.), retains the numerous erasures and emendations. It ran +as follows:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And none did love him though to hall and bower</i><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i><span class="lineout">few could</span></i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Haughty he gathered revellers from far and near</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">An evil smile just bordering on a sneer</span></i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He knew them flatterers of the festal hour</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">Curled on his lip</span></i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The heartless Parasites of present cheer,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As if</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">And deemed no mortal wight his peer</span></i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yea! none did love him not his lemmans dear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">To gentle Dames still less he could be dear</span></i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">Were aught</span> But pomp and power alone are Woman's care</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">But</span> And where these are let no Possessor fear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">The sex are slaves</span> Maidens like moths are ever caught by glare</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">Love shrinks outshone by Mammons dazzling</span> glare</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And Mammon</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i><span class="lineout">That Demon</span> wins his</i> [MS. torn] <i>where Angels might despair.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28" id="Footnote_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> The "trivial particular" which suggested to Byron the +friendlessness and desolation of the Childe may be explained by the +refusal of an old schoolfellow to spend the last day with him before he +set out on his travels. The friend, possibly Lord Delawarr, excused +himself on the plea that "he was engaged with his mother and some ladies +to go shopping." "Friendship!" he exclaimed to Dallas. "I do not believe +I shall leave behind me, yourself and family excepted, and, perhaps, my +mother, a single being who will care what becomes of me" (Dallas, +<i>Recollections, etc.</i>, pp. 63, 64). Byron, to quote Charles Lamb's +apology for Coleridge, was "full of fun," and must not be taken too +seriously. Doubtless he was piqued at the moment, and afterwards, to +heighten the tragedy of Childe Harold's exile, expanded a single act of +negligence into general abandonment and desertion at the hour of trial.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AB" id="Footnote_AB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AB"><span class="label">[ab]</span></a> <a id="Note_22" name="Note_22">{22}</a> <i>No! none did love him</i>——.—[D. pencil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29" id="Footnote_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> The word "lemman" is used by Chaucer in both senses, but +more frequently in the feminine.—[<i>MS. M.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30" id="Footnote_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> "Feere," a consort or mate. [Compare the line, "What when +lords go with their <i>feires</i>, she said," in "The Ancient Fragment of the +Marriage of Sir Gawaine" (Percy's <i>Reliques</i>, 1812, iii. 416), and the +lines— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">"As with the woful <i>fere</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And father of that chaste dishonoured dame."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Titus Andronicus</i>, act iv. sc. 1. +</p><p> +Compare, too, "That woman and her fleshless Pheere" (<i>The Rime of the +Ancyent Marinere</i>, line 180 of the reprint from the first version in the +<i>Lyrical Ballads</i>, 1798; <i>Poems</i> by S. T. Coleridge, 1893, App. E, p. +515).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AC" id="Footnote_AC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AC"><span class="label">[ac]</span></a> <a id="Note_23" name="Note_23">{23}</a> <i>Childe Burun</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31" id="Footnote_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> [In a suppressed stanza of "Childe Harold's Good Night" +(see p. 27, <i>var.</i> ii.), the Childe complains that he has not seen his +sister for "three long years and moe." Before her marriage, in 1807, +Augusta Byron divided her time between her mother's children, Lady +Chichester and the Duke of Leeds; her cousin, Lord Carlisle; and General +and Mrs. Harcourt. After her marriage to Colonel Leigh, she lived at +Newmarket. From the end of 1805 Byron corresponded with her more or less +regularly, but no meeting took place. In a letter to his sister, dated +November 30, 1808 (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 203), he writes, "I saw Col. +Leigh at Brighton in July, where I should have been glad to have seen +you; I only know your husband by sight." Colonel Leigh was his first +cousin, as well as his half-sister's husband, and the incidental remark +that "he only knew him by sight" affords striking proof that his +relations and connections were at no pains to seek him out, but left him +to fight his own way to social recognition and distinction. (For +particulars of "the Hon. Augusta Byron," see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 18, +note.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AD" id="Footnote_AD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AD"><span class="label">[ad]</span></a> <i>Of friends he had but few, embracing none</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AE" id="Footnote_AE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AE"><span class="label">[ae]</span></a> <i>Yet deem him not from this with breast of steel</i>.—[MS. +D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_32" id="Footnote_32"></a><a href="#FNanchor_32"><span class="label">[32]</span></a> [Compare Campbell's <i>Gertrude of Wyoming</i>, ii. 8. 1—"Yet +deem not Gertrude sighed for foreign joy."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AF" id="Footnote_AF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AF"><span class="label">[af]</span></a> <a id="Note_24" name="Note_24">{24}</a> <i>His house, his home, his vassals, and his +lands</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AG" id="Footnote_AG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AG"><span class="label">[ag]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The Dalilahs</i>——.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>His damsels all</i>——.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AH" id="Footnote_AH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AH"><span class="label">[ah]</span></a> ——<i>where brighter sunbeams shine</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_33" id="Footnote_33"></a><a href="#FNanchor_33"><span class="label">[33]</span></a> +"Your objection to the expression 'central line' I can +only meet by saying that, before Childe Harold left England, it was his +full intention to traverse Persia, and return by India, which he could +not have done without passing the equinoctial" (letter to Dallas, +September 7, 1811; see, too, letter to his mother, October 7, 1808: +<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 193; ii. 27).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AI" id="Footnote_AI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AI"><span class="label">[ai]</span></a> <i>The sails are filled</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_34" id="Footnote_34"></a><a href="#FNanchor_34"><span class="label">[34]</span></a> He experienced no such emotion on the resumption of his +Pilgrimage in 1816. With reference to the confession, he writes (Canto +III. stanza i. lines 6-9)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i25">" ... I depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_35" id="Footnote_35"></a><a href="#FNanchor_35"><span class="label">[35]</span></a> <a id="Note_25" name="Note_25">{25}</a> [See Lord Maxwell's "Good Night" in Scott's +<i>Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border</i> (<i>Poetical Works</i>, ii. 141, ed. +1834): "Adieu, madam, my mother dear," etc. [MS.]. Compare, too, +Armstrong's "Good Night" <i>ibid.</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"This night is my departing night,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For here nae langer mun I stay;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There's neither friend nor foe of mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But wishes me away.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I have done thro' lack of will,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">I never, never can recall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I hope ye're a' my friends as yet.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good night, and joy be with you all."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_36" id="Footnote_36"></a><a href="#FNanchor_36"><span class="label">[36]</span></a> <a id="Note_26" name="Note_26">{26}</a> [Robert Rushton, the son of one of the Newstead +tenants. "Robert I take with me; I like him, because, like myself, he +seems a friendless animal. Tell Mr. Rushton his son is well, and doing +well" (letter to Mrs. Byron, Falmouth, June 22, 1809: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, +i. 224).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_AJ" id="Footnote_AJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AJ"><span class="label">[aj]</span></a> +<a id="Note_27" name="Note_27">{27}</a></p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Our best gos-hawk can hardly fly</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>So merrily along</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Our best greyhound can hardly fly</i>.—[D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AK" id="Footnote_AK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AK"><span class="label">[ak]</span></a> Here follows in the MS. the following erased stanza:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>My mother is a high-born dame</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And much misliketh me;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>She saith my riot bringeth shame</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>On all my ancestry</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I had a sister once I ween</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Whose tears perhaps will flow;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But her fair face I have not seen</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>For three long years and moe.</i><br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AL" id="Footnote_AL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AL"><span class="label">[al]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Oh master dear I do not cry</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>From fear of wave or wind</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_37" id="Footnote_37"></a><a href="#FNanchor_37"><span class="label">[37]</span></a> [Robert was sent back from Gibraltar under the care of Joe +Murray (see letter to Mr. Rushton, August 15, 1809: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. +242).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_38" id="Footnote_38"></a><a href="#FNanchor_38"><span class="label">[38]</span></a> <a id="Note_28" name="Note_28">{28}</a> [William Fletcher, Byron's valet. He was anything but +"staunch" in the sense of the song (see Byron's letters of November 12, +1809, and June 28, 1810) (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 246, 279); but for twenty +years he remained a loyal and faithful servant, helped to nurse his +master in his last illness, and brought his remains back to England.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AM" id="Footnote_AM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AM"><span class="label">[am]</span></a> <a id="Note_29" name="Note_29">{29}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Enough, enough, my yeoman good</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>All this is well to say;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But if I in thy sandals stood</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>I'd laugh to get away</i>.—[MS. erased, D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AN" id="Footnote_AN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AN"><span class="label">[an]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>For who would trust a paramour</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Or e'en a wedded feere</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Though her blue eyes were streaming o'er</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And torn her yellow hair?</i>—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_39" id="Footnote_39"></a><a href="#FNanchor_39"><span class="label">[39]</span></a> ["I leave England without regret—I shall return to it +without pleasure. I am like Adam, the first convict sentenced to +transportation, but I have no Eve, and have eaten no apple but what was +sour as a crab" (letter to F. Hodgson, Falmouth, June 25, 1809, +<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 230). If this <i>Confessio Amantis</i>, with which +compare the "Stanzas to a Lady, on leaving England," is to be accepted +as <i>bonâ fide</i>, he leaves England heart-whole, but for the bitter memory +of Mary Chaworth.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AO" id="Footnote_AO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AO"><span class="label">[ao]</span></a> <a id="Note_30" name="Note_30">{30}</a> Here follows in the MS., erased:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Methinks it would my bosom glad</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>To change my proud estate</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And be again a laughing lad</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With one beloved playmate</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Since youth I scarce have pass'd an hour</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Without disgust or pain</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Except sometimes in Lady's bower</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Or when the bowl I drain</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_40" id="Footnote_40"></a><a href="#FNanchor_40"><span class="label">[40]</span></a> ["I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the 'Good +Night.' I have no reason to suppose my dog better than his brother +brutes, mankind; and Argus we know to be a fable" (letter to Dallas, +September 23, 1811: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 44). +</p><p> +Byron was recalling an incident which had befallen him some time +previously (see letter to Moore, January 19, 1815): "When I thought he +was going to enact Argus, he bit away the backside of my breeches, and +never would consent to any kind of recognition, in despite of all kinds +of bones which I offered him." See, too, for another thrust at Argus, +<i>Don Juan</i>, Canto III. stanza xxiii. But he should have remembered that +this particular Argus "was half a <i>wolf</i> by the she side." His portrait +is preserved at Newstead (see <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 280, <i>Edition +de Luxe</i>). +</p><p> +For the expression of a different sentiment, compare <i>The Inscription on +the Monument of a Newfoundland Dog</i> (first published in Hobhouse's +<i>Imit. and Transl</i>., 1809), and the prefatory inscription on Boatswain's +grave in the gardens of Newstead, dated November 16, 1808 (<i>Life</i>, p. +73).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_41" id="Footnote_41"></a><a href="#FNanchor_41"><span class="label">[41]</span></a> <a id="Note_31" name="Note_31">{31}</a> [Cintra's "needle-like peaks," to the north-west of +Lisbon, are visible from the mouth of the Tagus.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_42" id="Footnote_42"></a><a href="#FNanchor_42"><span class="label">[42]</span></a> [Compare Ovid, <i>Amores</i>, i. 15, and Pliny, <i>Hist. Nat.</i>, +iv. 22. Small particles of gold are still to be found in the sands of +the Tagus, but the quantity is, and perhaps always was, +inconsiderable.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AP" id="Footnote_AP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AP"><span class="label">[ap]</span></a> ——<i>where thronging rustics reap</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AQ" id="Footnote_AQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AQ"><span class="label">[aq]</span></a> <a id="Note_32" name="Note_32">{32}</a> <i>What God hath done</i>—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AR" id="Footnote_AR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AR"><span class="label">[ar]</span></a> <i>Those Lusian brutes and earth from worst of wretches +purge</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_43" id="Footnote_43"></a><a href="#FNanchor_43"><span class="label">[43]</span></a> ["<i>Lisboa</i> is the Portuguese word, consequently the very +best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and as I have <i>Hellas</i> and <i>Eros</i> not very +long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek +terms, which I wish to avoid" (letter to Dallas, September 23, 1811: +<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 44. See, too, <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1883, p. 5).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AS" id="Footnote_AS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AS"><span class="label">[as]</span></a> <i>Ulissipont, or Lisbona</i>.—[MS. pencil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AT" id="Footnote_AT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AT"><span class="label">[at]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Which poets, prone to lie, have paved with gold</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Which poets sprinkle o'er with sands of gold</i>.—[MS. pencil.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Which fabling poets</i>—[D. pencil.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_44" id="Footnote_44"></a><a href="#FNanchor_44"><span class="label">[44]</span></a> <a id="Note_33" name="Note_33">{33}</a> [For Byron's estimate of the Portuguese, see <i>The +Curse of Minerva</i>, lines 233, 234, and note to line 231 (<i>Poetical +Works</i>, 1898, i. 469, 470). In the last line of the preceding stanza, +the substitution of the text for <i>var.</i> i. was no doubt suggested by +Dallas in the interests of prudence.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AU" id="Footnote_AU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AU"><span class="label">[au]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Who hate the very hand that waves the sword</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To shield them, etc</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To guard them, etc</i>.—[MS. pencil.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AV" id="Footnote_AV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AV"><span class="label">[av]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Mid many things that grieve both nose and ee</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Midst many</i>——.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AW" id="Footnote_AW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AW"><span class="label">[aw]</span></a> ——<i>smelleth filthily</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AX" id="Footnote_AX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AX"><span class="label">[ax]</span></a> ——<i>dammed with dirt</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_45" id="Footnote_45"></a><a href="#FNanchor_45"><span class="label">[45]</span></a> <a id="Note_34" name="Note_34">{34}</a> [For a fuller description of Cintra, see letter to +Mrs. Byron, dated August 11, 1808 (<i>Life</i>, p. 92; <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. +237). Southey, not often in accord with Byron, on his return from Spain +(1801) testified that "for beauty all English, perhaps all existing, +scenery must yield to Cintra" (<i>Life and Corr. of R. Southey</i>, ii. +161).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AY" id="Footnote_AY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AY"><span class="label">[ay]</span></a> ——<i>views too sweet and vast</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_AZ" id="Footnote_AZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_AZ"><span class="label">[az]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>by tottering convent crowned</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Alcornoque</i>.—[Note (pencil).]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_46" id="Footnote_46"></a><a href="#FNanchor_46"><span class="label">[46]</span></a> "The sky-worn robes of tenderest blue." Collins' <i>Ode to +Pity</i> [MS. and D.].</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BA" id="Footnote_BA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BA"><span class="label">[ba]</span></a> <i>The murmur that the sparkling torrents keep</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_47" id="Footnote_47"></a><a href="#FNanchor_47"><span class="label">[47]</span></a> <a id="Note_35" name="Note_35">{35}</a> [The convent of Nossa Señora (now the Palazio) da +Peña, and the Cork Convent, were visited by Beckford (circ. 1780), and +are described in his <i>Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal</i> (8vo, +1834), the reissue of his <i>Letters Picturesque and Poetical</i> (4to, +1783). +</p><p> +"Our first object was the convent of Nossa Senhora da Penha, the little +romantic pile of white building I had seen glittering from afar when I +first sailed by the coast of Lisbon. From this pyramidical elevation the +view is boundless; you look immediately down upon an immense expanse of +sea. +</p><p> +... A long series of detached clouds of a dazzling whiteness suspended +low over the waves had a magic effect, and in pagan times might have +appeared, without any great stretch of fancy, the cars of marine +divinities, just risen from the bosom of their element."—<i>Italy, etc.</i>, +p. 249. +</p><p> +"Before the entrance, formed by two ledges of ponderous rock, extends a +smooth level of greensward.... The Hermitage, its cell, chapel, and +refectory, are all scooped out of the native marble, and lined with the +bark of the cork tree. Several of the passages are not only roofed, but +floored with the same material ... The shrubberies and garden-plots +dispersed amongst the mossy rocks ... are delightful, and I took great +pleasure in ... following the course of a transparent rill, which was +conducted through a rustic water-shoot, between bushes of lavender and +roses, many of the tenderest green."—<i>Ibid.</i>, p. 250. +</p><p> +The inscription to the memory of Honorius (d. 159, æt. 95) is on a stone +in front of the cave— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hic Honorius vitam finivit;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et ideo cum Deo in coelis revivit."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_48" id="Footnote_48"></a><a href="#FNanchor_48"><span class="label">[48]</span></a> +<a id="Note_36" name="Note_36">{36}</a> "I don't remember any crosses there."—[Pencilled +note by J.C. Hobhouse.] +</p><p> +[The crosses made no impression upon Hobhouse, who, no doubt, had +realized that they were nothing but guideposts. For an explanation, see +letter of Mr. Matthew Lewtas to the <i>Athenæum</i>, July 19, 1873: "The +track from the main road to the convent, rugged and devious, leading up +to the mountain, is marked out by numerous crosses now, just as it was +when Byron rode along it in 1809, and it would appear he fell into the +mistake of considering that the crosses were erected to show where +assassinations had been committed."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_49" id="Footnote_49"></a><a href="#FNanchor_49"><span class="label">[49]</span></a> +[Beckford, describing the view from the convent, notices +the wild flowers which adorned "the ruined splendour." "Amidst the +crevices of the mouldering walls ... I noticed some capillaries and +polypodiums of infinite delicacy; and on a little flat space before the +convent a numerous tribe of pinks, gentians, and other Alpine plants, +fanned and invigorated by the fresh mountain air."—<i>Italy, etc.,</i> 1834, +p. 229. +</p><p> +The "Prince's palace" (line 5) may be the royal palace at Cintra, "the +Alhambra of the Moorish kings," or, possibly, the palace +(<i>vide post</i>, <a href="#CI_XXIX">stanza xxix.</a> line 7) at Mafra, ten miles from Cintra.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BB" id="Footnote_BB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BB"><span class="label">[bb]</span></a> <a id="Note_37" name="Note_37">{37}</a> <i>There too proud Vathek—England's wealthiest +son</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_50" id="Footnote_50"></a><a href="#FNanchor_50"><span class="label">[50]</span></a> [William Beckford, 1760 (?1759)-1844, published <i>Vathek</i> +in French in 1784, and in English in 1787. He spent two years (1794-96) +in retirement at Quinta da Monserrate, three miles from Cintra. Byron +thought highly of <i>Vathek</i>. "I do not know," he writes (<i>The Giaour</i>, l. +1328, note), "from what source the author ... may have drawn his +materials ... but for correctness of costume ... and power of +imagination, it surpasses all European imitations.... As an Eastern +tale, even <i>Rasselas</i> must bow before it; his happy valley will not bear +a comparison with the 'Hall of Eblis.'" In the MS. there is an +additional stanza reflecting on Beckford, which Dallas induced him to +omit. It was afterwards included by Moore among the <i>Occasional Pieces</i>, +under the title of <i>To Dives: a Fragment</i> (<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1883, p. +548). (For Beckford, see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 228, note 1; and with +regard to the "Stanzas on Vathek," see letter to Dallas, September 26, +1811: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 47.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BC" id="Footnote_BC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BC"><span class="label">[bc]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>When Wealth and Taste their worst and best have done</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Meek Peace pollution's lure voluptuous still must shun</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BD" id="Footnote_BD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BD"><span class="label">[bd]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>But now thou blasted Beacon unto man</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>thou Beacon unto erring man</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_BE" id="Footnote_BE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BE"><span class="label">[be]</span></a> +<a id="Note_38" name="Note_38">{38}</a> <i>Vain are the pleasaunces by art supplied</i>.—[MS. D.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BF" id="Footnote_BF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BF"><span class="label">[bf]</span></a> ——<i>yclad, and by</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BG" id="Footnote_BG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BG"><span class="label">[bg]</span></a> <i>Where blazoned glares a name spelt "Wellesley."</i>—[MS. +D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BH" id="Footnote_BH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BH"><span class="label">[bh]</span></a> ——<i>are on the roll</i>.—[MS. erased, D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BI" id="Footnote_BI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BI"><span class="label">[bi]</span></a> The following stanzas, which appear in the MS., were +excluded at the request of Dallas (see his letter of October 10, 1811, +<i>Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron</i>, 1824, pp. 173-187), +<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 51:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>In golden characters right well designed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>First on the list appeareth one "Junot;"</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Then certain other glorious names we find</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>(Which Rhyme compelleth me to place below:)</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Dull victors! baffled by a vanquished foe</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Wheedled by conynge tongues of laurels due</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Stand, worthy of each other in a row</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Sirs Arthur, Harry, and the dizzard Hew</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Dalrymple, seely wight, sore dupe of t'other tew.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Convention is the dwarfy demon styled</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That failed the knights in Marialva's dome:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>For well I wot, when first the news did come</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That Vimiera's field by Gaul was lost</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>For paragraph ne paper scarce had room</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Such Pæans teemed for our triumphant host</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In Courier, Chronicle, and eke in Morning Post</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>But when Convention sent his handy work</i>br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Pens, tongues, feet, hands combined in wild uproar;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Mayor, Aldermen, laid down the uplifted fork;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The Bench of Bishops half forgot to snore;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Stern Cobbett</i>,<a href="#bi_A">[A]</a>—<i>who for one whole week forbore</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>To question aught, once more with transport leapt</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And bit his devilish quill agen, and swore</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With foes such treaty never should be kept</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>While roared the blatant Beast</i>,<a href="#bi_B">[B]</a> <i>and roared, and raged, and—slept!!</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Thus unto Heaven appealed the people: Heaven</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Which loves the lieges of our gracious King</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Decreed that ere our Generals were forgiven</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Enquiry should be held about the thing</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>But Mercy cloaked the babes beneath her wing;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And as they spared our foes so spared we them;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>(Where was the pity of our Sires for Byng?)</i><a href="#bi_C">[C]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Yet knaves, not idiots should the law condemn;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Then live ye gallant Knights! and bless your Judges' phlegm!</i><br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<a id="bi_A">[A]</a> [Sir Hew Dalrymple's despatch on the so-called Convention of Cintra +is dated September 3, and was published in the <i>London Gazette +Extraordinary</i>, September 16, 1808. The question is not alluded to in +the <i>Weekly Political Register</i> of September 17, but on the 24th Cobbett +opened fire with a long article (pp. 481-502) headed, "Conventions in +Portugal," which was followed up by articles on the same subject in the +four succeeding issues. Articles iii., iv., v., vi., of the "Definitive +Convention" provided for the restoration of the French troops and their +safe convoy to France, with their artillery, equipments, and cavalry. +"Did the men," asks Cobbett (September 24), "who made this promise beat +the Duke d'Abrantés [Junot], or were they like curs, who, having felt +the bite of the mastiff, lose all confidence in their number, and, +though they bark victory, suffer him to retire in quiet, carrying off +his bone to be disposed of at his leisure? No, not so; for they +complaisantly carry the bone for him." The rest of the article is +written in a similar strain.] +</p><p> +<a id="bi_B">[B]</a> ["'Blatant beast.'<a href="#bi_B_1">[*]</a> A figure for the mob. I think first used by +Smollett, in his <i>Adventures of an Atom</i>.<a href="#bi_B_2">[**]</a> Horace has the 'bellua +multorum capitum.'<a href="#bi_B_3">[***]</a> In England, fortunately enough, the illustrious +mobility has not even one."—[MS.]] +</p><p> +<a id="bi_B_1">[*]</a> [Spenser (<i>Faërie Queene</i>, bk. vi. cantos iii. 24; xii. 27, sq.) +personifies the <i>vox populi</i>, with its thousand tongues, as the "blatant +beast."] +</p><p> +<a id="bi_B_2">[**]</a>[In <i>The History and Adventures of an Atom</i> (Smollett's Works, 1872, +vi. 385), Foksi-Roku (Henry Fox, the first Lord Holland) passes judgment +on the populace. "The multitude, my lords, is a many-headed monster, it +is a Cerberus that must have a sop; it is a wild beast, so ravenous that +nothing but blood will appease its appetite; it is a whale, that must +have a barrel for its amusement; it is a demon, to which we must offer +human sacrifice.... Bihn-Goh must be the victim—happy if the sacrifice +of his single life can appease the commotions of his country." +Foksi-Roku's advice is taken, and Bihn-Goh (Byng) "is crucified for +cowardice."] +</p><p> +<a id="bi_B_3">[***]</a>[Horace, <i>Odes</i>, II. xiii. 34: "Bellua centiceps."] +</p><p> +<a id="bi_C">[C]</a>"By this query it is not meant that our foolish generals should have +been shot, but that Byng [Admiral John Byng, born 1704, was executed +March 14, 1757] might have been spared; though the one suffered and the +others escaped, probably for Candide's reason 'pour encourager les +autres.'"<a href="#bi_C_4">[****]</a>—[MS.] +</p><p> +<a id="bi_C_4" title="Congratulations, see source for your prize!">[****]</a> +<!-- Congratulations! You, having read a footnote in French, +to a footnote, to a footnote, have achieved the nadir of pedantry, +and you may now claim tenure!" --> + +["Dans ce pays-ci il est bon de tuer de temps en temps un amiral +pour encourager les autres."—<i>Candide</i>, xxii.] +</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_51" id="Footnote_51"></a><a href="#FNanchor_51"><span class="label">[51]</span></a> <a id="Note_39" name="Note_39">{39}</a> [On August 21, 1808, Sir Harry Burrard (1755-1813) +superseded in command Sir Arthur Wellesley, who had, on the same day, +repulsed Junot at Vimiera. No sooner had he assumed his position as +commander-in-chief, than he countermanded Wellesley's order to give +pursuit and make good the victory. The next day (August 22) Sir Hew +Dalrymple in turn superseded Burrard, and on the 23rd, General Kellerman +approached the English with certain proposals from Junot, which a week +later were formulated by the so-called Convention of Cintra, to which +Kellerman and Wellesley affixed their names. When the news reached +England that Napoleon's forces had been repulsed with loss, and yet the +French had been granted a safe exit from Portugal, the generals were +assailed with loud and indiscriminate censure. Burrard's interference +with Wellesley's plans was no doubt ill-judged and ill-timed; but the +opportunity of pursuit having been let slip, the acceptance of Junot's +terms was at once politic and inevitable. A court of inquiry, which was +held in London in January, 1809, upheld both the armistice of August 22 +and the Convention; but neither Dalrymple nor Burrard ever obtained a +second command, and it was not until Talavera (July 28, 1809) had +effaced the memories of Cintra that Wellesley was reinstated in popular +favour.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BJ" id="Footnote_BJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BJ"><span class="label">[bj]</span></a> <a id="Note_41" name="Note_41">{41}</a> ——<i>at the mention sweat</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BK" id="Footnote_BK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BK"><span class="label">[bk]</span></a> <a id="Note_42" name="Note_42">{42}</a> <i>More restless than the falcon as he flies</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_52" id="Footnote_52"></a><a href="#FNanchor_52"><span class="label">[52]</span></a> [With reference to this passage, while yet in MS., an +early reader (?Dallas) inquires, "What does this mean?" And a second +(?Hobhouse) rejoins, "What does the question mean? It is one of the +finest stanzas I ever read."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_53" id="Footnote_53"></a><a href="#FNanchor_53"><span class="label">[53]</span></a> [Byron and Hobhouse sailed from Falmouth, July 2, 1809; +reached Lisbon on the 6th or 7th; and on the 17th started from Aldea +Galbega ("the first stage from Lisbon, which is only accessible by +water") on horseback for Seville. "The horses are excellent—we rode +seventy miles a day" (see letters of August 6 to F. Hodgson, and August +11, 1809, to Mrs. Byron; <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 234, 236).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BL" id="Footnote_BL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BL"><span class="label">[bl]</span></a> ——<i>long foreign to his soul</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BM" id="Footnote_BM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BM"><span class="label">[bm]</span></a> ——<i>the strumpet and the bowl</i>.—[MS. D]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BN" id="Footnote_BN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BN"><span class="label">[bn]</span></a> <a id="Note_43" name="Note_43">{43}</a> <i>And countries more remote his hopes engage</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BO" id="Footnote_BO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BO"><span class="label">[bo]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Where dwelt of yore the Lusians' crazy queen</i>,—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where dwelt of yore Lusania's</i>——.—[D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_54" id="Footnote_54"></a><a href="#FNanchor_54"><span class="label">[54]</span></a> [Her luckless Majesty went subsequently mad; and Dr. +Willis, who so dexterously cudgelled kingly pericraniums, could make +nothing of hers. (For the Rev. Francis Willis, see <i>Poetical Works</i>, +1898, i. 416.) +</p><p> +Maria I. (b. 1734), who married her uncle, Pedro III., reigned with him +1777-86, and, as sole monarch, from 1786 to 1816. The death of her +husband, of her favourite confessor, Ignatio de San Caetano, who had +been raised by Pombal from the humblest rank to the position of +archbishop <i>in partibus</i>, and of her son, turned her brain, and she +became melancholy mad. She was only queen in name after 1791, and in +1799 her son, Maria José Luis, was appointed regent. Beckford saw her in +1787, and was impressed by her dignified bearing. "Justice and +clemency," he writes, "the motto so glaringly misapplied on the banner +of the abhorred Inquisition, might be transferred, with the strictest +truth, to this good princess" (<i>Italy, with Sketches of Spain and +Portugal</i>, 1834, p. 256). Ten years later, Southey, in his <i>Letters from +Spain</i>, 1797, p. 541, ascribes the "gloom" of the court of Lisbon to +"the dreadful malady of the queen." When the Portuguese royal family +were about to embark for Brazil in November, 1807, the queen was once +more seen in public after an interval of sixteen years. "She had to wait +some while upon the quay for the chair in which she was to be carried to +the boat, and her countenance, in which the insensibility of madness was +only disturbed by wonder, formed a striking contrast to the grief which +appeared in every other face" (Southey's <i>History of the Peninsular +War</i>, i. 110).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BP" id="Footnote_BP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BP"><span class="label">[bp]</span></a> <a id="Note_44" name="Note_44">{44}</a> <i>Childe Burun</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BQ" id="Footnote_BQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BQ"><span class="label">[bq]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Less swoln with culture soon the vales extend</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And long horizon-bounded realms appear</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BR" id="Footnote_BR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BR"><span class="label">[br]</span></a> <a id="Note_45" name="Note_45">{45}</a> <i>Say Muse what bounds</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_55" id="Footnote_55"></a><a href="#FNanchor_55"><span class="label">[55]</span></a> The Pyrenees.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_56" id="Footnote_56"></a><a href="#FNanchor_56"><span class="label">[56]</span></a> [If, as stanza xliii. of this canto (added in 1811) +intimates, Byron passed through "Albuera's plain" on his way from Lisbon +to Seville, he must have crossed the frontier at a point between Elvas +and Badajoz. In that case the "silver streamlet" may be identified as +the Caia. Beckford remarks on "the rivulet which separates the two +kingdoms" (<i>Italy, etc</i>., 1834, p. 291).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BS" id="Footnote_BS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BS"><span class="label">[bs]</span></a> <a id="Note_46" name="Note_46">{46}</a> <i>But eer the bounds of Spain have far been +passed</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BT" id="Footnote_BT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BT"><span class="label">[bt]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>For ever famed—in many a native song</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>a noted song</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_57" id="Footnote_57"></a><a href="#FNanchor_57"><span class="label">[57]</span></a> [Compare Virgil, <i>Æneid</i>, i. 100— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"Ubi tot Simois correpta sub undis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scuta virûm galeasque et fortia corpora volvit."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_58" id="Footnote_58"></a><a href="#FNanchor_58"><span class="label">[58]</span></a> [The standard, a cross made of Asturian oak (<i>La Cruz de +la Victoria</i>), which was said to have fallen from heaven before Pelayo +gained the victory over the Moors at Cangas, in A.D. 718, is preserved +at Oviedo. Compare Southey's <i>Roderick</i>, XXV.: <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1838, +ix. 241, and note, pp. 370, 371.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BU" id="Footnote_BU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BU"><span class="label">[bu]</span></a> —<i>which Pelagius bore</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_59" id="Footnote_59"></a><a href="#FNanchor_59"><span class="label">[59]</span></a> <a id="Note_47" name="Note_47">{47}</a> [The Moors were finally expelled from Granada in +1492, in the reign of Ferdinand and Isabella.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BV" id="Footnote_BV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BV"><span class="label">[bv]</span></a> ——<i>waxed the Crescent pale</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_60" id="Footnote_60"></a><a href="#FNanchor_60"><span class="label">[60]</span></a> [The reference is to the Romanceros and Caballerías of the +sixteenth century.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BW" id="Footnote_BW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BW"><span class="label">[bw]</span></a> ——<i>thy little date</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BX" id="Footnote_BX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BX"><span class="label">[bx]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">——<i>from rock to rock</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Blue columns soaring loft in sulphury wreath</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Fragments on fragments in contention knock</i>.—[MS. erased, D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_61" id="Footnote_61"></a><a href="#FNanchor_61"><span class="label">[61]</span></a> "The Siroc is the violent hot wind that for weeks together +blows down the Mediterranean from the Archipelago. Its effects are well +known to all who have passed the Straits of Gibraltar."—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_62" id="Footnote_62"></a><a href="#FNanchor_62"><span class="label">[62]</span></a> <a id="Note_49" name="Note_49">{49}</a> [The battle of Talavera began July 27, 1809, and +lasted two days. As Byron must have reached Seville by the 21st or 22nd +of the month, he was not, as might be inferred, a spectator of any part +of the engagement. Writing to his mother, August 11, he says, "You have +heard of the battle near Madrid, and in England they would call it a +victory—a pretty victory! Two hundred officers and five thousand men +killed, all English, and the French in as great force as ever. I should +have joined the army, but we have no time to lose before we get up the +Mediterranean."—<i>Letters</i>, i. 241.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BY" id="Footnote_BY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BY"><span class="label">[by]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Their rival scarfs that shine so gloriously</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Their rural scarfs</i>——.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_63" id="Footnote_63"></a><a href="#FNanchor_63"><span class="label">[63]</span></a> [Compare Campbell's "Hohenlinden"—"Few, few shall part +where many meet."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_64" id="Footnote_64"></a><a href="#FNanchor_64"><span class="label">[64]</span></a> <a id="Note_50" name="Note_50">{50}</a> [Compare <i>Macbeth</i>, act i. sc. 2, line 51—"Where the +Norweyan banners flout the sky."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_65" id="Footnote_65"></a><a href="#FNanchor_65"><span class="label">[65]</span></a> [In a letter to Colonel Malcolm, December 3, 1809, the +Duke admits that the spoils of conquest were of a moral rather than of a +material kind. "The battle of Talavera was certainly the hardest fought +of modern days.... It is lamentable that, owing to the miserable +inefficiency of the Spaniards, ... the glory of the action is the only +benefit which we have derived from it.... I have in hand a most +difficult task.... In such circumstances one may fail, but it would be +dishonourable to shrink from the task."—<i>Wellington Dispatches</i>, 1844, +iii. 621.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_BZ" id="Footnote_BZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_BZ"><span class="label">[bz]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>There shall they rot—while rhymers tell the fools</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>How honour decks the turf that wraps their clay!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Liars avaunt!</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_66" id="Footnote_66"></a><a href="#FNanchor_66"><span class="label">[66]</span></a> Two lines of Collins' <i>Ode</i>, "How sleep the brave," etc., +have been compressed into one— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There Honour comes a pilgrim grey,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To bless the turf that wraps their clay."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CA" id="Footnote_CA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CA"><span class="label">[ca]</span></a> <i>But Reason's elf in these beholds</i>——.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CB" id="Footnote_CB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CB"><span class="label">[cb]</span></a> <a id="Note_51" name="Note_51">{51}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i25">——<i>a fancied throne</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As if they compassed half that hails their sway</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CC" id="Footnote_CC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CC"><span class="label">[cc]</span></a> ——<i>glorious sound of grief</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_67" id="Footnote_67"></a><a href="#FNanchor_67"><span class="label">[67]</span></a> [The battle of Albuera (May 16, 1811), at which the +English, under Lord Beresford, repulsed Soult, was somewhat of a Pyrrhic +victory. "Another such a battle," wrote the Duke, "would ruin us. I am +working hard to put all right again." The French are said to have lost +between 8000 and 9000 men, the English 4158, the Spaniards 1365.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CD" id="Footnote_CD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CD"><span class="label">[cd]</span></a> <i>A scene for mingling foes to boast and bleed</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CE" id="Footnote_CE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CE"><span class="label">[ce]</span></a> <i>Yet peace be with the perished</i>—-.—[D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CF" id="Footnote_CF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CF"><span class="label">[cf]</span></a> <i>And tears and triumph make their memory long</i>.—[D. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CG" id="Footnote_CG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CG"><span class="label">[cg]</span></a> ——<i>there sink with other woes</i>.—[D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_68" id="Footnote_68"></a><a href="#FNanchor_68"><span class="label">[68]</span></a> [Albuera was celebrated by Scott, in his <i>Vision of Don +Roderick</i>. <i>The Battle of Albuera</i>, a Poem (anon.), was published in +October, 1811.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CH" id="Footnote_CH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CH"><span class="label">[ch]</span></a> <a id="Note_52" name="Note_52">{52}</a> <i>Who sink in darkness</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CI" id="Footnote_CI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CI"><span class="label">[ci]</span></a> ——<i>swift Rapines path pursued</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CJ" id="Footnote_CJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CJ"><span class="label">[cj]</span></a> <i>To Harold turn we as</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_69" id="Footnote_69"></a><a href="#FNanchor_69"><span class="label">[69]</span></a> [In this "particular" Childe Harold did not resemble his +<i>alter ego</i>. Hobhouse and "part of the servants" (Joe Murray, Fletcher, +a German, and the "page" Robert Rushton, constituted his "whole suite"), +accompanied Byron in his ride across Spain from Lisbon to Gibraltar. +(See <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 224, 236.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CK" id="Footnote_CK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CK"><span class="label">[ck]</span></a> <i>Where proud Sevilha</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_70" id="Footnote_70"></a><a href="#FNanchor_70"><span class="label">[70]</span></a> <a id="Note_53" name="Note_53">{53}</a> [Byron, <i>en route</i> for Gibraltar, passed three days +at Seville at the end of July or the beginning of August, 1809. By the +end of January, 1810, the French had appeared in force before Seville. +Unlike Zaragoza and Gerona, the pleasure-loving city, "after some +negotiations, surrendered, with all its stores, foundries, and arsenal +complete, and on the 1st of February the king [Joseph] entered in +triumph" (Napier's <i>History of the War in the Peninsula</i>, ii. 295).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_71" id="Footnote_71"></a><a href="#FNanchor_71"><span class="label">[71]</span></a> [A kind of fiddle with only two strings, played on by a +bow, said to have been brought by the Moors into Spain.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CL" id="Footnote_CL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CL"><span class="label">[cl]</span></a> <i>Not here the Trumpet, but the rebeck sounds</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CM" id="Footnote_CM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CM"><span class="label">[cm]</span></a> <i>And dark-eyed Lewdness</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_72" id="Footnote_72"></a><a href="#FNanchor_72"><span class="label">[72]</span></a> [See <i>The Waltz: Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 492, note 1.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CN" id="Footnote_CN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CN"><span class="label">[cn]</span></a> <a id="Note_54" name="Note_54">{54}</a> <i>Not in the toils of Glory would ye sweat.</i>—[MS. +erased, D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_73" id="Footnote_73"></a><a href="#FNanchor_73"><span class="label">[73]</span></a> [The scene is laid on the heights of the Sierra Morena. +The travellers are looking across the "long level plain" of the +Guadalquivir to the mountains of Ronda and Granada, with their +"hill-forts ...perched everywhere like eagles' nests" (Ford's <i>Handbook +for Spain</i>, i. 252). The French, under Dupont, entered the Morena, June +2, 1808. They stormed the bridge at Alcolea, June 7, and occupied +Cordoba, but were defeated at Bailen, July 19, and forced to capitulate. +Hence the traces of war. The "Dragon's nest" (line 7) is the ancient +city of Jaen, which guards the skirts of the Sierras "like a watchful +Cerberus." It was taken by the French, but recaptured by the Spanish, +early in July, 1808 (<i>History of the War in the Peninsula</i>, i. 71-80).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_74" id="Footnote_74"></a><a href="#FNanchor_74"><span class="label">[74]</span></a> <a id="Note_55" name="Note_55">{55}</a> [The Sierra Morena gets its name from the classical +<i>Montes Mariani</i>, not, as Byron seems to imply, from its dark and dusky +aspect.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CO" id="Footnote_CO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CO"><span class="label">[co]</span></a> <a id="Note_56" name="Note_56">{56}</a> ——<i>the never-changing watch</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CP" id="Footnote_CP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CP"><span class="label">[cp]</span></a> <i>The South must own</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CQ" id="Footnote_CQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CQ"><span class="label">[cq]</span></a> <i>When soars Gaul's eagle</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_75" id="Footnote_75"></a><a href="#FNanchor_75"><span class="label">[75]</span></a> [As time went on, Byron's sentiments with regard to +Napoleon underwent a change, and he hesitates between sympathetic +admiration and reluctant disapproval. At the moment his enthusiasm was +roused by Spain's heroic resistance to the new Alaric, "the scourger of +the world," and he expresses himself like Southey "or another" (<i>vide +post</i>, Canto III., <a href="#Footnote_298">pp. 238, 239</a>).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_76" id="Footnote_76"></a><a href="#FNanchor_76"><span class="label">[76]</span></a> <a id="Note_57" name="Note_57">{57}</a> ["A short two-edged knife or dagger ... formerly worn +at the girdle" (<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Anlace"). The "anlace" of the +Spanish heroines was the national weapon, the <i>puñal</i>, or <i>cuchillo</i>, +which was sometimes stuck in the sash (<i>Handbook for Spain</i>, ii. 803).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_77" id="Footnote_77"></a><a href="#FNanchor_77"><span class="label">[77]</span></a> [Compare <i>Macbeth</i>, act v. sc. 5, line 10— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Time has been, my senses would have cooled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To hear a night-shriek."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CR" id="Footnote_CR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CR"><span class="label">[cr]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——-<i>the column-scattering bolt afar,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The falchion's flash</i>—[MS. erased, D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CS" id="Footnote_CS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CS"><span class="label">[cs]</span></a> <a id="Note_59" name="Note_59">{59}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The seal Love's rosy finger has imprest</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>On her fair chin denotes how soft his touch:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Her lips where kisses make voluptuous nest</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_78" id="Footnote_78"></a><a href="#FNanchor_78"><span class="label">[78]</span></a> +[Writing to his mother (August 11, 1809), Byron compares +"the Spanish style" of beauty to the disadvantage of the English: "Long +black hair, dark languishing eyes, <i>clear</i> olive complexions, and forms +more graceful in motion than can be conceived by an Englishman ... +render a Spanish beauty irresistible" (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 239). +Compare, too, the opening lines of <i>The Girl of Cadiz</i>, which gave place +to the stanzas <i>To Inez</i>, at the close of this canto— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh never talk again to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of northern climes and British ladies."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +But in <i>Don Juan</i>, Canto XII. stanzas lxxiv.-lxxvii., he makes the +<i>amende</i> to the fair Briton— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She cannot step as doth an Arab barb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or Andalusian girl from mass returning.<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">But though the soil may give you time and trouble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well cultivated, it will render double."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CT" id="Footnote_CT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CT"><span class="label">[ct]</span></a> <a id="Note_60" name="Note_60">{60}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Beauties that need not fear a broken vow</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i18">——<i>a lecher's vow</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_79" id="Footnote_79"></a><a href="#FNanchor_79"><span class="label">[79]</span></a> [The summit of Parnassus is not visible from Delphi or the +neighbourhood. Before he composed "these stanzas" (December 16), (see +<a href="#en_I_13">note 13.B.</a>) at the foot of Parnassus, Byron had first surveyed its +"snow-clad" majesty as he sailed towards Vostizza (on the southern shore +of the Gulf of Corinth), which he reached on the 5th, and quitted on the +14th of December. "The Echoes" (line 8) which were celebrated by the +ancients (Justin, <i>Hist.</i>, lib. xxiv. cap. 6), are those made by the +Phædriades, or "gleaming peaks," a "lofty precipitous escarpment of red +and grey limestone" at the head of the valley of the Pleistus, facing +southwards.—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 188, 199; <i>Geography of Greece</i>, +by H. F. Tozer, 1873, p. 230.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CU" id="Footnote_CU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CU"><span class="label">[cu]</span></a> <i>Not in the landscape of a fabled lay</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_80" id="Footnote_80"></a><a href="#FNanchor_80"><span class="label">[80]</span></a> <a id="Note_61" name="Note_61">{61}</a> ["Upon Parnassus, going to the fountain of Delphi +(Castri) in 1809, I saw a flight of twelve eagles (Hobhouse said they +were vultures—at least in conversation), and I seized the omen. On the +day before, I composed the lines to Parnassus [in <i>Childe Harold</i>] and, +on beholding the birds, had a hope that Apollo had accepted my homage. I +have, at least, had the name and fame of a poet during the poetical +period of life (from twenty to thirty). Whether it will last is another +matter; but I have been a votary of the deity and the place, and am +grateful for what he has done in my behalf, leaving the future in his +hands, as I left the past" (B. <i>Diary</i>, 1821).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CV" id="Footnote_CV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CV"><span class="label">[cv]</span></a> <a id="Note_62" name="Note_62">{62}</a> <i>And walks with glassy steps o'er Aganippe's +wave</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CW" id="Footnote_CW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CW"><span class="label">[cw]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Let me some remnant of thy Spirit bear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Some glorious thought to my petition grant</i>.—[MS. erased, D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_81" id="Footnote_81"></a><a href="#FNanchor_81"><span class="label">[81]</span></a> ["Parnassus ... is distinguished from all other Greek +mountains by its mighty mass. This, with its vast buttresses, almost +fills up the rest of the country" (<i>Geography of Greece</i>, by H.F. Tozer, +1873, p. 226).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_82" id="Footnote_82"></a><a href="#FNanchor_82"><span class="label">[82]</span></a> <a id="Note_63" name="Note_63">{63}</a> [In his first letter from Spain (to F. Hodgson, +August 6, 1809) Byron exclaims, "Cadiz, sweet Cadiz!—it is the first +spot in the creation ... Cadiz is a complete Cythera." See, too, letter +to Mrs. Byron, August 11, 1809 (Letters, 1898, i. 234, 239).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CX" id="Footnote_CX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CX"><span class="label">[cx]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>While boyish blood boils gaily, who can 'scape</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The lurking lures of thy enchanting gaze</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_83" id="Footnote_83"></a><a href="#FNanchor_83"><span class="label">[83]</span></a> <a id="Note_64" name="Note_64">{64}</a> [It must not be supposed that the "thousand altars" +of Cadiz correspond with and are in contrast to the "one dome" of +Paphos. The point is that where Venus fixes her shrine, at Paphos or at +Cadiz, altars blaze and worshippers abound (compare <i>Æneid</i>, i. +415-417)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ipsa Paphum sublimis abit, sedesque revisit<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Læta suas, ubi templum illi, centumque Sabæo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ture calent aræ."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_84" id="Footnote_84"></a><a href="#FNanchor_84"><span class="label">[84]</span></a> [Compare Milton's <i>Paradise Lost</i>, i.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">... from morn<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_85" id="Footnote_85"></a><a href="#FNanchor_85"><span class="label">[85]</span></a> [It was seldom that Byron's memory played him false, but +here a vague recollection of a Shakespearian phrase has beguiled him +into a blunder. He is thinking of Hamlet's jibe on the corruption of +manners, "The age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes +so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe" (act v. sc. 1, line +150), and he forgets that a kibe is not a heel or a part of a heel, but +a chilblain.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CY" id="Footnote_CY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CY"><span class="label">[cy]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">——<i>though in lieu</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of true devotion monkish temples share</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The hours misspent, and all in turns is Love or Prayer</i>.——<br /></span> +<span class="i0">[<i>MS. erased</i>.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_CZ" id="Footnote_CZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_CZ"><span class="label">[cz]</span></a> ——<i>or rule the hour in turns</i>.——[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_86" id="Footnote_86"></a><a href="#FNanchor_86"><span class="label">[86]</span></a> <a id="Note_65" name="Note_65">{65}</a> [As he intimates in the Preface to <i>Childe Harold</i>, +Byron had originally intended to introduce "variations" in his poem of a +droll or satirical character. Beattie, Thomson, Ariosto, were sufficient +authorities for these humorous episodes. The stanzas on the Convention +of Cintra (stanzas xxv.-xxviii. of the MS.), and the four stanzas on Sir +John Carr; the concluding stanzas of the MS., which were written in this +lighter vein, were suppressed at the instance of Dallas, or Murray, or +Gifford. From a passage in a letter to Dallas (August 21, 1811), it +appears that Byron had almost made up his mind to leave out "the two +stanzas of a buffooning cast on London's Sunday" (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. +335). But, possibly, owing to their freedom from any compromising +personalities, or because wiser counsels prevailed, they were allowed to +stand, and continued (wrote Moore in 1832) to "disfigure the poem."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_87" id="Footnote_87"></a><a href="#FNanchor_87"><span class="label">[87]</span></a> [A whiskey is a light carriage in which the traveller is +<i>whisked</i> along.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DA" id="Footnote_DA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DA"><span class="label">[da]</span></a> <a id="Note_66" name="Note_66">{66}</a> <i>And humbler gig</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DB" id="Footnote_DB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DB"><span class="label">[db]</span></a> <i>And droughty man alights and roars for "Roman +Purl."</i>[*]—[MS. D.] +</p><p> +[*] A festive liquor so called. Query why "Roman"? [Query if "Roman"? +"'Purl Royal,' Canary wine with a dash of the tincture of wormwood" +(Grose's <i>Class. Dict.</i>).] +</p><p> +----<i>for Punch or Purl</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DC" id="Footnote_DC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DC"><span class="label">[dc]</span></a> <i>Some o'er thy Thames convoy</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_88" id="Footnote_88"></a><a href="#FNanchor_88"><span class="label">[88]</span></a> [Hone's <i>Everyday Book</i> (1827, ii. 80-87) gives a detailed +account of the custom of "swearing on the horns" at Highgate. "The +horns, fixed on a pole of about five feet in length, were erected by +placing the pole upright on the ground near the person to be sworn, who +is requested to take off his hat," etc. The oath, or rather a small part +of it, ran as follows: "Take notice what I am saying unto you, for +<i>that</i> is the first word of your oath—mind <i>that</i>! You must acknowledge +me [the landlord] to be your adopted father, etc.... You must not eat +brown bread while you can get white, except you like the brown best. You +must not drink small beer while you can get strong, except you like the +small best. You must not kiss the maid while you can kiss the mistress, +but sooner than lose a good chance you may kiss them both," etc. +Drovers, who frequented the "Gate House" at the top of the hill, and who +wished to keep the tavern to themselves, are said to have been +responsible for the rude beginnings of this tedious foolery.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_89" id="Footnote_89"></a><a href="#FNanchor_89"><span class="label">[89]</span></a> <a id="Note_67" name="Note_67">{67}</a> [M. Darmesteter quotes a striking passage from +Gautier's <i>Voyage en Espagne</i> (xv.), in appreciation of Cadiz and Byron: +"L'aspect de Cadix, en venant du large, est charmant. A la voir ainsi +étincelante de blancheur entre l'azur de la mer et l'azur du ciel, on +dirait une immense couronne de filigrane d'argent; le dôme de la +cathédrale, peint en jaune, semble une tiare de vermeil posée au milieu. +Les pots de fleurs, les volutes et les tourelles qui terminent les +maisons, varient à l'infini la dentelure. Byron a merveilleusement +caractérisé la physionomie de Cadix en une seule touche: +</p><p> +"Brillante Cadix, qui t'élèves vers le ciel du milieu du bleu foncé de +la mer."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_90" id="Footnote_90"></a><a href="#FNanchor_90"><span class="label">[90]</span></a> [The actors in a bull-fight consist of three or four +classes: the <i>chulos</i> or footmen, the <i>banderilleros</i> or dart-throwers, +the <i>picadores</i> or horsemen, the <i>matadores</i> or <i>espadas</i> the +executioners. Each bull-fight, which lasts about twenty minutes, is +divided into three stages or acts. In the first act the <i>picadores</i> +receive the charge of the bull, defending themselves, but not, as a +rule, attacking the foe with their lances or <i>garrochas</i>. In the second +act the <i>chulos</i>, who are not mounted, wave coloured cloaks or +handkerchiefs in the bull's face, and endeavour to divert his fury from +the <i>picadores</i>, in case they have been thrown or worsted in the +encounter. At the same time, the <i>banderilleros</i> are at pains to implant +in either side of the bull's neck a number of barbed darts ornamented +with cut paper, and, sometimes, charged with detonating powder. It is +<i>de rigeur</i> to plant the barbs exactly on either side. In the third and +final act, the protagonist, the <i>matador</i> or <i>espada</i>, is the sole +performer. His function is to entice the bull towards him by waving the +<i>muleta</i> or red flag, and, standing in front of the animal, to inflict +the death-wound by plunging his sword between the left shoulder and the +blade. "The teams of mules now enter, glittering with flags and tinkling +with bells, whose gay decorations contrast with the stern cruelty and +blood; the dead bull is carried off at a rapid gallop, which always +delights the populace."—<i>Handbook for Spain</i>, by Richard Ford, 1898, i. +67-76.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_91" id="Footnote_91"></a><a href="#FNanchor_91"><span class="label">[91]</span></a> <a id="Note_70" name="Note_70">{70}</a> "The croupe is a particular leap taught in the +manège."—[MS.] [<i>Croupe</i>, or <i>croup</i>, denotes the hind quarters of a +horse. Compare Scott's ballad of "Young Lochinvar"—"So light to the +croupe the fair lady he swung." Here it is used for "croupade," "a high +curvet in which the hind legs are brought up under the belly of the +horse" (<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Croupade.")]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_92" id="Footnote_92"></a><a href="#FNanchor_92"><span class="label">[92]</span></a> <a id="Note_71" name="Note_71">{71}</a> ["Brast" for "burst" is found in Spenser (<i>Faërie +Queene</i>, i. 9. 21. 7), and is still current in Lancashire dialect. See +<i>Lanc. Gloss.</i> (E. D. S. "brast").]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_93" id="Footnote_93"></a><a href="#FNanchor_93"><span class="label">[93]</span></a> [One bull-fight, one matador. In describing the last act +Byron confuses the <i>chulos</i> or cloak-waving footmen, who had already +played their part, with the single champion, the matador, who is about +to administer the <i>coup de grâce</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DD" id="Footnote_DD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DD"><span class="label">[dd]</span></a> ——<i>he lies along the sand.</i>—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DE" id="Footnote_DE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DE"><span class="label">[de]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>The trophy corse is reared—disgusting prize</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>The corse is reared—sparkling the chariot flies</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_94" id="Footnote_94"></a><a href="#FNanchor_94"><span class="label">[94]</span></a> [Compare Virgil, <i>Æneid</i>, viii. 264— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">"Pedibusque informe cadaver<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Protrahitur. Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo—"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_95" id="Footnote_95"></a><a href="#FNanchor_95"><span class="label">[95]</span></a> <a id="Note_72" name="Note_72">{72}</a> "The Spaniards are as revengeful as ever. At Santa +Otella, I heard a young peasant threaten to stab a woman (an old one, to +be sure, which mitigates the offence), and was told, on expressing some +small surprise, that this ethic was by no means uncommon."—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_96" id="Footnote_96"></a><a href="#FNanchor_96"><span class="label">[96]</span></a> [Byron's "orthodoxy" of the word "centinel" was suggested +by the Spanish <i>centinela</i>, or, perhaps, by Spenser's "centonell" +(<i>Faërie Queene</i>, bk. i. c. ix. st. 41, line 8).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DF" id="Footnote_DF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DF"><span class="label">[df]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And all whereat the wandering soul revolts</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Which that stern dotard dreamed he could encage</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DG" id="Footnote_DG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DG"><span class="label">[dg]</span></a> <a id="Note_73" name="Note_73">{73}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Full from the heart of Joy's delicious springs</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Some Bitter bubbles up, and even on Roses stings</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_97" id="Footnote_97"></a><a href="#FNanchor_97"><span class="label">[97]</span></a> [The Dallas Transcript reads "itself," but the MS. and +earlier editions "herself."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DH" id="Footnote_DH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DH"><span class="label">[dh]</span></a> <a id="Note_74" name="Note_74">{74}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Had buried then his hopes, no more to rise:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Drugged with dull pleasure! life-abhorring Gloom</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Wrote on his faded brow curst Cain's wandering doom</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Had buried there</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_98" id="Footnote_98"></a><a href="#FNanchor_98"><span class="label">[98]</span></a> [Byron's belief or, rather, haunting dread, that he was +predestined to evil is to be traced to the Calvinistic teaching of his +boyhood (compare <i>Childe Harold</i>, Canto III. stanza lxx. lines 8, 9; and +Canto IV. stanza xxxiv. line 6). Lady Byron regarded this creed of +despair as the secret of her husband's character, and the source of his +aberrations. In a letter to H. C. Robinson, March 5, 1855, she writes, +"Not merely from casual expressions, but from the whole tenour of Lord +Byron's feelings, I could not but conclude he was a believer in the +inspiration of the Bible, and had the gloomiest Calvinistic tenets. To +that unhappy view of the relation of the creature to the Creator, I have +always ascribed the misery of his life.... Instead of being made happier +by any apparent good, he felt convinced that every blessing would be +'turned into a curse' to him. Who, possessed by such ideas, could lead a +life of love and service to God or man? They must in a measure realize +themselves. 'The worst of it is, I <i>do</i> believe,' he said. I, like all +connected with him, was broken against the rock of predestination."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_99" id="Footnote_99"></a><a href="#FNanchor_99"><span class="label">[99]</span></a> <a id="Note_75" name="Note_75">{75}</a> "Stanzas to be inserted after stanza 86th in <i>Childe +Harold's Pilgrimage</i>, instead of the song at present in +manuscript."-[MS. note to "To Inez."] [The stanzas <i>To Inez</i> are dated +January 25, 1810, on which day Byron and Hobhouse visited Marathon. Most +likely they were addressed to Theresa Macri, the "Maid of Athens," or +some favourite of the moment, and not to "Florence" (Mrs. Spencer +Smith), whom he had recently (January 16) declared <i>emerita</i> to the tune +of "The spell is broke, the charm is flown." A fortnight later (February +10), Hobhouse, accompanied by the Albanian Vasilly and the Athenian +Demetrius, set out for the Negroponte. "Lord Byron was unexpectedly +detained at Athens" (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 390). (For the stanzas to +<i>The Girl of Cadiz</i>, which were suppressed in favour of those <i>To Inez,</i> +see <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1891, p. 14, and vol. iii. of the present +issue.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_100" id="Footnote_100"></a><a href="#FNanchor_100"><span class="label">[100]</span></a> <a id="Note_76" name="Note_76">{76}</a> [Compare Horace, <i>Odes</i>, II. xvi. 19, 20— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"Patriæ quis exsul<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Se quoque fugit?"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DI" id="Footnote_DI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DI"><span class="label">[di]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>To other zones howe'er remote</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Still, still pursuing clings to me.</i>—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_101" id="Footnote_101"></a><a href="#FNanchor_101"><span class="label">[101]</span></a> [Compare Prior's <i>Solomon</i>, bk. iii. lines 85, 86— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In the remotest wood and lonely grot<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Certain to meet that worst of evils—<i>thought."</i>]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_102" id="Footnote_102"></a><a href="#FNanchor_102"><span class="label">[102]</span></a> <a id="Note_77" name="Note_77">{77}</a> [Cadiz was captured from the Moors by Alonso el +Sabio, in 1262. It narrowly escaped a siege, January-February, 1810. +Soult commenced a "serious bombardment," May 16, 1812, but, three months +later, August 24, the siege was broken up. Stanza lxxxv. is not in the +original MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_103" id="Footnote_103"></a><a href="#FNanchor_103"><span class="label">[103]</span></a> +<a id="Note_78" name="Note_78">{78}</a> [Charles IV. abdicated March 19, 1808, in favour of +his son Ferdinand VII.; and in the following May, Charles once more +abdicated on his own behalf, and Ferdinand for himself and his heirs, in +favour of Napoleon. Thenceforward Charles was an exile, and Ferdinand a +prisoner at Valençay, and Spain, so far as the Bourbons were concerned, +remained "kingless," until motives of policy procured the release of the +latter, who re-entered his kingdom March 22, 1814.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DJ" id="Footnote_DJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DJ"><span class="label">[dj]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Sights, Saints, Antiques, Arts, Anecdotes and War</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Go hie ye hence to Paternoster Row</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Are they not written in the Boke of Carr</i>,<a href="#dj_A">[A]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Green Erin's Knight and Europe's wandering star!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Then listen, Readers, to the Man of Ink</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Hear what he did, and sought, and wrote afar;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>All those are cooped within one Quarto's brink</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>This borrow, steal,—don't buy,—and tell us what you think</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>There may you read with spectacles on eyes</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>How many Wellesleys did embark for Spain</i>,<a href="#dj_B">[B]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>As if therein they meant to colonise</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>How many troops y-crossed the laughing main</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That ne'er beheld the said return again:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>How many buildings are in such a place</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>How many leagues from this to yonder plain</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>How many relics each cathedral grace</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And where Giralda stands on her gigantic base</i>.<a href="#dj_C">[C]</a><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>There may you read (Oh, Phoebus, save Sir John!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That these my words prophetic may not err)</i><a href="#dj_D">[D]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>All that was said, or sung, and lost, or won,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>By vaunting Wellesley or by blundering Frere</i>,<a href="#dj_E">[E]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>He that wrote half the "Needy Knife-Grinder,"</i><a href="#dj_F">[F]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Thus Poesy the way to grandeur paves</i>—<a href="#dj_G">[G]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who would not such diplomatists prefer?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>But cease, my Muse, thy speed some respite craves,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Leave legates to the House, and armies to their graves</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet here of Vulpes mention may be made</i>,<a href="#dj_H">[H]</a><a href="#dj_J">[J]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who for the Junta modelled sapient laws</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Taught them to govern ere they were obeyed:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Certes fit teacher to command, because</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>His soul Socratic no Xantippe awes;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Blest with a Dame in Virtue's bosom nurst,</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With her let silent Admiration pause!</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>True to her second husband and her first:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>On such unshaken fame let Satire do its worst</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<a id="dj_A">[A]</a> "Porphyry said that the prophecies of Daniel were written after +their completion, and such may be my fate here; but it requires no +second sight to foretell a tome; the first glimpse of the knight was +enough."—[MS.] +</p><p> +["I have seen Sir John Carr at Seville and Cadiz, and, like Swift's +barber, have been down on my knees to beg he would not put me into black +and white" (letter to Hodgson, August 6, 1809, <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 235, +note).] +</p><p> +<a id="dj_B">[B]</a> "I presume Marquis and Mr. and Pole and Sir A. are returned by this +time, and eke the bewildered Frere whose conduct was canvassed by the +Commons."—[MS.] +</p><p> +[A motion which had been brought forward in the House of Commons, +February 24, 1809, "to inquire into the causes ...of the late campaign +in Spain," was defeated, but the Government recalled J. Hookham Frere, +British Minister to the Supreme Junta, and nominated the Marquis +Wellesley Ambassador Extraordinary to Seville. Wellesley landed in Spain +early in August, but a duel which took place, September 21, between +Perceval and Canning led to changes in the ministry, and, with a view to +taking office, he left Cadiz November 10, 1809. His brother, Henry +Wellesley (1773-1847, first Baron Cowley), succeeded him as Envoy +Extraordinary. If "Mr." stands for Henry Wellesley, "Pole" may be +William Wellesley Pole, afterwards third Earl of Mornington.] +</p><p> +<a id="dj_C">[C]</a>[The base of the Giralda, the cathedral tower at Seville, is a +square of fifty feet. The pinnacle of the filigree belfry, which +surmounts the original Moorish tower, "is crowned with <i>El Girardillo</i>, +a bronze statue of <i>La Fé</i>, The Faith.... Although 14 feet high, and +weighing 2800 lbs., it turns with the slightest breeze."—Ford's +<i>Handbook for Spain</i>, i. 174.] +</p><p> +<a id="dj_D">[D]</a>[<i>Vide ante</i>, p. 78, <a href="#dj_A">note 2</a>.] +</p><p> +<a id="dj_E">[E]</a><i>By shrivelled Wellesley</i>——.—[MS. erased.] +</p><p> +<a id="dj_F">[F]</a> "The Needy Knife-grinder," in the <i>Anti-Jacobin</i>, was a joint +production of Messrs. Frere and Canning. +</p><p> +<a id="dj_G">[G]</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>None better known for doing things by halves</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As many in our Senate did aver</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<a id="dj_H">[H]</a> <i>Yet surely Vulpes merits some applause</i>.—[MS. erased.] +</p><p> +<a id="dj_J" title="Sorry, no tenure here, it is not in a foreign language.">[J]</a> [Henry Richard Vassall Fox, second Lord Holland (1773-1840), +accompanied Sir David Baird to Corunna, September, 1808, and made a +prolonged tour in Spain, returning in the autumn of 1809. He suggested +to the Junta of Seville to extend their functions as a committee of +defence, and proposed a new constitution. His wife, Elizabeth Vassall, +the daughter of a rich Jamaica planter, was first married (June 27, +1786) to Sir Godfrey Webster, Bart. Sir Godfrey divorced his wife July +3, 1797, and three days later she was married to Lord Holland. She had +lived with him for some time previously, and before the divorce had +borne him a son, Charles Richard Fox (1796-1873), who was acknowledged +by Lord Holland.] </p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_104" id="Footnote_104"></a><a href="#FNanchor_104"><span class="label">[104]</span></a> <a id="Note_81" name="Note_81">{81}</a> [Stanzas lxxxviii.-xciii., which record the battles +of Barossa (March 5, 1811) and Albuera (May 16, 1811), and the death of +Byron's school-friend Wingfield (May 14, 1811), were written at Newstead +in August, 1811, and take the place of four omitted stanzas (<i>q.v. +supra</i>).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_105" id="Footnote_105"></a><a href="#FNanchor_105"><span class="label">[105]</span></a> [Francisco Pizarro (1480-1541), with his brothers, +Hernando, Juan Gonzalo, and his half-brother Martin de Alcantara, having +revisited Spain, set sail for Panama in 1530. During his progress +southward from Panama, he took the island of Puna, which formed part of +the province of Quito. His defeat and treacherous capture of Atuahalpa, +King of Quito, younger brother of Huascar the Supreme Inca, took place +in 1532, near the town of Caxamarca, in Peno (<i>Mod. Univ. History</i>, +1763, xxxviii. 295, <i>seq.</i>). Spain's weakness during the Napoleonic +invasion was the opportunity of her colonies. Quito, the capital of +Ecuador, rose in rebellion, August 10, 1810, and during the same year +Mexico and La Plata began their long struggle for independence.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_106" id="Footnote_106"></a><a href="#FNanchor_106"><span class="label">[106]</span></a> <a id="Note_82" name="Note_82">{82}</a> [During the American War of Independence (1775-83), +and afterwards during the French Revolution, it was the custom to plant +trees as "symbols of growing freedom." The French trees were decorated +with "caps of Liberty." No such trees had ever been planted in Spain. +(See note by the Rev. E.C. Everard Owen, <i>Childe Harold</i>, 1897, p. +158.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DK" id="Footnote_DK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DK"><span class="label">[dk]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And thou, my friend! since thus my selfish woe</i><br /></span> + +<span class="i0"> +<i>Bursts from my heart,</i><span class="bb">{</span> +<span class="uc" style="vertical-align:1em;"><i>to weaken in</i></span> +<span class="uc" style="vertical-align:0;margin-left:-5.25em;"><i>however light my strain,</i></span> +<span class="dc" style="vertical-align:-1em;margin-left:-9.5em;"><i>for ever light the</i>——.—[D.]</span> +<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Had the sword laid thee, with the mighty, low</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Pride had forbade me of thy fall to plain</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_107" id="Footnote_107"></a><a href="#FNanchor_107"><span class="label">[107]</span></a> [Compare the In Memoriam stanzas at the end of Beattie's +<i>Minstrel</i>—"And am I left to unavailing woe?" II. 63, line 2.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DL" id="Footnote_DL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DL"><span class="label">[dl]</span></a> <a id="Note_83" name="Note_83">{83}</a> ——<i>belov'd the most</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_108" id="Footnote_108"></a><a href="#FNanchor_108"><span class="label">[108]</span></a> [With reference to this stanza, Byron wrote to Dallas, +October 25, 1811 (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 58, 59), "I send you a conclusion +to the <i>whole</i>. In a stanza towards the end of Canto I. in the line, +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh, known the earliest and <i>beloved</i> the most,<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +I shall alter the epithet to '<i>esteemed</i> the most.'"]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DM" id="Footnote_DM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DM"><span class="label">[dm]</span></a> ——<i>where none so long was dear</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DN" id="Footnote_DN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DN"><span class="label">[dn]</span></a> <i>And fancy follow to</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_109" id="Footnote_109"></a><a href="#FNanchor_109"><span class="label">[109]</span></a> "Fytte" means "part."—[Note erased.]</p></div> + +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span></p> + +<h2 style="line-height:2em;"><a name="NOTES_1" id="NOTES_1"></a>NOTES<br /> +<span style="font-size:66%">TO</span><br /> +<span style="font-size:150%;">CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE</span>.<br /> +CANTO I. +</h2> + +<h4><a id="en_I_1" name="en_I_1"></a>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yes! sighed o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_I">Stanza i.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> little village of Castri stands partially on the site of +Delphi. Along the path of the mountain, from Chrysso, are +the remains of sepulchres hewn in and from the rock:—"One," +said the guide, "of a king who broke his neck hunting." +His majesty had certainly chosen the fittest spot for +such an achievement.</p> + +<p>A little above Castri is a cave, supposed the Pythian, of +immense depth; the upper part of it is paved, and now a cowhouse.</p> + +<p>On the other side of Castri stands a Greek monastery; +some way above which is the cleft in the rock, with a range +of caverns difficult of ascent, and apparently leading to the +interior of the mountain; probably to the Corycian Cavern +mentioned by Pausanias. From this part descend the fountain +and the "Dews of Castalie."</p> + +<p>[Byron and Hobhouse slept at Crissa December 15, and visited +Delphi December 16, 1809.—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 199-209.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_2" name="en_I_2"></a>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And rest ye at "Our Lady's house of Woe."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XX">Stanza xx.</a> line 4.</p> + +<p>The convent of "Our Lady of Punishment," <i>Nossa Señora de Pena</i>, +on the summit of the rock. Below, at some +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +distance, is the Cork Convent, where St. Honorius dug his +den, over which is his epitaph. From the hills, the sea adds +to the beauty of the view.—[<i>Note to First Edition</i>.] +Since the publication of this poem, I have been informed +[by W. Scott, July 1, 1812] of the misapprehension of the term +<i>Nossa Señora de Pena</i>. It was owing to the want of the +<i>tilde</i>, or mark over the <i>ñ</i>, +which alters the signification of the word: with it, +<i>Peña</i> signifies a rock; without it, <i>Pena</i> has the sense I +adopted. <i>I</i> do not think it necessary to alter the passage; +as, though the common acceptation affixed to it is +"Our Lady of the Rock," I may well assume the other sense from the +severities practised there.—[<i>Note to Second Edition.</i>]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_3" name="en_I_3"></a>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Throughout this purple land, where Law secures not life.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XXI">Stanza xxi</a>. line 9.</p> + +<p>It is a well-known fact that in the year 1809, the assassinations +in the streets of Lisbon and its vicinity were not +confined by the Portuguese to their countrymen; but that +Englishmen were daily butchered: and so far from redress +being obtained, we were requested not to interfere if we +perceived any compatriot defending himself against his allies. +I was once stopped in the way to the theatre at eight o'clock +in the evening, when the streets were not more empty than +they generally are at that hour, opposite to an open shop, +and in a carriage with a friend: had we not fortunately been +armed, I have not the least doubt that we should have +"adorned a tale" instead of telling one. The crime of +assassination is not confined to Portugal; in Sicily and +Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome average +nightly, and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ever punished!</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_4" name="en_I_4"></a>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Behold the hall where chiefs were late convened!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XXIV">Stanza xxiv.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The Convention of Cintra was signed in the palace of +the Marchese Marialva. The late exploits of Lord Wellington +have effaced the follies of Cintra. He has, indeed, done +wonders; he has perhaps changed the character of a nation, +reconciled rival superstitions, and baffled an enemy who +never retreated before his predecessor.</p> + +<p>["The armistice, the negotiations, the convention, the +execution of its provisions, were commenced, conducted, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +concluded, at the distance of thirty miles from Cintra, with +which place they had not the slightest connection, political, +military, or local. Yet Lord Byron has sung that the convention +was signed in the Marquis of Marialva's house at +Cintra" (Napier's <i>History of the War in the Peninsula</i>, i. 161). +The "suspension of arms" is dated +"Head Quarters of the British Army, August 22, 1808." +The "Definitive Convention for the Evacuation of Portugal by the British +Army" is dated "Head Quarters, Lisbon, August 30, 1808." +(See Wordsworth's pamphlet +<i>Concerning the Relations of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal, etc.</i>, +1809, App. pp. 199-201. +For sentiments almost identical with those expressed +in stanzas xxiv., xxv., see <i>ibid.</i>, p. 49, <i>et passim</i>.)]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_5" name="en_I_5"></a>5.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XXIX">Stanza xxix.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The extent of Mafra is prodigious; it contains a palace, +convent, and most superb church. The six organs are the +most beautiful I ever beheld, in point of decoration: we did +not hear them, but were told that their tones were correspondent +to their splendour. Mafra is termed the Escurial of Portugal.</p> + +<p>[Mafra was built by D. João V. The foundation-stone +was laid November 7, 1717, and the church consecrated +October 22, 1730. (For descriptions of Mafra, see Southey's +<i>Life and Correspondence</i>, ii. 113; +and <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 237.)]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_6" name="en_I_6"></a>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XXXIII">Stanza xxxiii.</a> lines 8 and 9.</p> + +<p>As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterised them. +That they are since improved, at least in courage, is evident.</p> + +<p>[The following "Note on Spain and Portugal," part of the +original draft of <a href="#en_I_3">Note 3</a> (p. 86), was suppressed at the instance +of Dallas: "We have heard wonders of the Portuguese lately, +and their gallantry. Pray Heaven it continue; yet 'would +it were bed-time, Hal, and all were well!' They must fight +a great many hours, by 'Shrewsbury clock,' before the number +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +of their slain equals that of our countrymen butchered by +these kind creatures, now metamorphosed into 'Caçadores,' +and what not. I merely state a fact, not confined to Portugal; +for in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a +handsome average nightly, and not a Sicilian or Maltese is +ever punished! The neglect of protection is disgraceful to +our government and governors; for the murders are as +notorious as the moon that shines upon them, and the apathy +that overlooks them. The Portuguese, it is to be hoped, are +complimented with the 'Forlorn Hope,'—if the cowards are +become brave (like the rest of their kind, in a corner), pray +let them display it. But there is a subscription for these +<span title="thrasy/deiloi">θρασύδειλοι</span><a name="FNanchor_110" id="FNanchor_110"></a><a href="#Footnote_110" class="fnanchor">[110]</a> +(they need not be ashamed of the epithet once +applied to the Spartans); and all the charitable patronymics, +from ostentatious A. to diffident Z., and £1 1s. 0d. from +'An Admirer of Valour,' are in requisition for the lists at Lloyd's, +and the honour of British benevolence. Well! we have +fought, and subscribed, and bestowed peerages, and buried +the killed by our friends and foes; and, lo! all this is to be +done over again! Like Lien Chi (in Goldsmith's +<i>Citizen of the World</i>), as we +'grow older, we grow never the better.' +It would be pleasant to learn who will subscribe for us, in or +about the year 1815, and what nation will send fifty thousand +men, first to be decimated in the capital, and then decimated +again (in the Irish fashion, <i>nine</i> out of <i>ten</i>), +in the 'bed of honour;' which, as Serjeant Kite says +[in Farquhar's <i>Recruiting Officer</i>, act i. sc. 1], +is considerably larger and more +commodious than 'the bed of Ware.' Then they must have +a poet to write the 'Vision of Don Perceval,'<a name="FNanchor_111" id="FNanchor_111"></a><a href="#Footnote_111" class="fnanchor">[111]</a> +and generously +bestow the profits of the well and widely printed quarto, to +rebuild the 'Backwynd' and the 'Canongate,' or furnish new +kilts for the half-roasted Highlanders. Lord Wellington, +however, has enacted marvels; and so did his Oriental +brother, whom I saw charioteering over the French flag, and +heard clipping bad Spanish, after listening to the speech of +a patriotic cobler of Cadiz, on the event of his own entry +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +into that city, and the exit of some five thousand bold Britons +out of this 'best of all possible worlds' [Pangloss, in <i>Candide</i>]. +Sorely were we puzzled how to dispose of that same victory +of Talavera; and a victory it surely was somewhere, for +everybody claimed it. The Spanish despatch and mob +called it Cuesta's, and made no great mention of the Viscount; +the French called it <i>theirs</i>[1] (to my great discomfiture,—for a +French consul stopped my mouth in Greece with a pestilent +Paris Gazette, just as I had killed Sebastiani'<a name="FNanchor_112" id="FNanchor_112"></a><a href="#Footnote_112" class="fnanchor">[112]</a> +'in buckram,' +and King Joseph 'in Kendal green'),—and we have not +yet determined <i>what</i> to call it, or <i>whose</i>; for, certes, it was +none of our own. Howbeit, Massena's retreat [May, +1811] is a great comfort; and as we have not been in the +habit of pursuing for some years past, no wonder we are a +little awkward at first. No doubt we shall improve; or, if +not, we have only to take to our old way of retrograding, and +there we are at home."—<i>Recollections of the Life of Lord +Byron</i>, 1824, pp. 179-185.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_7" name="en_I_7"></a>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Cava's traitor-sire first called the band<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XXXV">Stanza xxxv.</a> lines 3 and 4.</p> + +<p>Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pelagius +preserved his independence in the fastnesses of the Asturias, +and the descendants of his followers, after some centuries, +completed their struggle by the conquest of Grenada.</p> + +<p>[Roderick the Goth violated Florinda, or Caba, or Cava, +daughter of Count Julian, one of his principal lieutenants. +In revenge for this outrage, Julian allied himself with Musca, +the Caliph's lieutenant in Africa, and countenanced the +invasion of Spain by a body of Saracens and Africans commanded +by Tarik, from whom Jebel Tarik, Tarik's Rock, +that is, Gibraltar, is said to have been named. The issue +was the defeat and death of Roderick and the Moorish +occupation of Spain. A Spaniard, according to Cervantes, +may call his dog, but not his daughter, Florinda. +(See <i>Vision of Don Roderick</i>, +by Sir W. Scott, stanza iv. note 5.)]</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_8" name="en_I_8"></a>8.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">No! as he speeds, he chants "Vivā el Rey!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XLVIII">Stanza xlviii.</a> line 5.</p> + +<p>"Vivā el Rey Fernando!" Long live King Ferdinand! +is the chorus of most of the Spanish patriotic songs. They +are chiefly in dispraise of the old King Charles, the Queen, +and the Prince of Peace. I have heard many of them: +some of the airs are beautiful. Godoy, the <i>Principe de la Paz</i>, +of an ancient but decayed family, was born at Badajoz, +on the frontiers of Portugal, and was originally in the ranks +of the Spanish guards; till his person attracted the queen's +eyes, and raised him to the dukedom of Alcudia, etc., etc. +It is to this man that the Spaniards universally impute the +ruin of their country.</p> + +<p>[Manuel de Godoy (1767-1851) received the title of +<i>Principe de la Paz</i>, Prince of the Peace, in 1795, after the +Treaty of Basle, which ceded more than half St. Domingo +to France. His tenure of power, as prime minister and +director of the king's policy, coincided with the downfall of +Spanish power, and before the commencement of the +Peninsular War he was associated in the minds of the +people with national corruption and national degradation. +He was, moreover, directly instrumental in the betrayal of +Spain to France. By the Treaty of Fontainebleau, October +27, 1807, Portugal was to be divided between the King of +Etruria and Godoy as Prince of the Algarves, Portuguese +America was to fall to the King of Spain, and to bring this +about Napoleon's troops were to enter Spain and march +directly to Lisbon. The sole outcome of the treaty was the +occupation of Portugal and subsequent invasion of Spain. +Before Byron had begun his pilgrimage, Godoy's public +career had come to an end. During the insurrection at +Aranjuez, March 17-19, 1808, when Charles IV. abdicated +in favour of his son Ferdinand VII., Godoy was only preserved +from the fury of the populace by a timely imprisonment. +In the following May, by which time Ferdinand +himself was a prisoner in France, he was released at the +instance of Murat, and ordered to accompany Charles to +Bayonne, for the express purpose of cajoling his master into +a second abdication in favour of Napoleon. The remainder +of his long life was passed, first at Rome, and afterwards at +Paris, in exile and dependence. The execration of Godoy, +"who was really a mild, good-natured man," must, in +Napier's judgment, be attributed to Spanish venom and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +Spanish prejudice. The betrayal of Spain was, he thinks, +the outcome of Ferdinand's intrigues no less than of Godoy's +unpatriotic ambition. Another and perhaps truer explanation +of popular odium is to be found in his supposed atheism +and well-known indifference to the rites of the Church, which +many years before had attracted the attention of the Holy +Office. The peasants cursed Godoy because the priests +triumphed over his downfall +(Napier's <i>History of the War in the Peninsula</i>, i. 8; +Southey's <i>Peninsular War</i>, i. 85 +note, 93, 215, 280).]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_9" name="en_I_9"></a>9.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_L">Stanza l.</a> lines 2 and 3.</p> + +<p>The red cockade, with "Fernando Septimo" in the centre.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_10" name="en_I_10"></a>10.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LI">Stanza li.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>All who have seen a battery will recollect the pyramidal +form in which shot and shells are piled. The Sierra Morena +was fortified in every defile through which I passed in my +way to Seville.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_11" name="en_I_11"></a>11.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Foiled by a woman's hand, before a battered wall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LVI">Stanza lvi.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>Such were the exploits of the Maid of Saragoza, who by +her valour elevated herself to the highest rank of heroines. +When the author was at Seville, she walked daily on the +Prado, decorated with medals and orders, by command of the Junta.</p> + +<p>[The story, as told by Southey (who seems to have +derived his information from +<i>The Narrative of the Siege of Zaragoza</i>, +by Charles Richard Vaughan, M.B., 1809), is +that "Augustina Zaragoza (<i>sic</i>), a handsome woman of the +lower class, about twenty-two years of age," a vivandiere, +in the course of her rounds came with provisions to a battery +near the Portello gate. The gunners had all been killed, +and, as the citizens held back, "Augustina sprang over the +dead and dying, snatched a match from the hand of a dead +artilleryman, and fired off a twenty-six pounder; then, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span> +jumping upon the gun, made a solemn vow never to quit it +alive during the siege."</p> + +<p>After the retreat of the French, "a pension was settled +upon Augustina, and the daily pay of an artilleryman. She +was also to wear a small shield of honour, embroidered upon +the sleeve of her gown, with 'Zaragoza' inscribed upon it" +(Southey's <i>Peninsular War</i>, ii. 14, 34).</p> + +<p>Napier, "neither wholly believing nor absolutely denying +these exploits," which he does not condescend to give in +detail, remarks "that for a long time afterwards, Spain +swarmed with Zaragoza heroines, clothed in half-uniforms, +and theatrically loaded with weapons."</p> + +<p>A picture of "The Defence of Saragossa," painted by Sir +David Wilkie, which contained her portrait, was exhibited +in the Royal Academy in 1829, and was purchased by the +king (Napier's <i>History of the War in the Peninsula</i>, i. 45; +<i>Life of Sir D. Wilkie</i>, by John W. Mollett, 1881, p. 83). +Compare, too, <i>The Age of Bronze</i>, vii. lines 53-56—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">" ... the desperate wall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Saragossa, mightiest in her fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The man nerved to a spirit, and the maid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Waving her more than Amazonian blade."]<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="en_I_12" name="en_I_12"></a>12.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The seal Love's dimpling finger hath impressed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LVIII">Stanza lviii.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sigilla in mento impressa Amoris digitulo<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vestigio demonstrant mollitudinem."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib">Aul. Gel.</p> + +<p>[The quotation does not occur in Aulus Gellius, but is a +fragment in iambic metre from the Papia papæ +<span title="peri\ e)nkômi/ôn">περὶ ἐγκωμίων</span> +of M. Terentius Varro, cited by the grammarian Nonius +Marcellus (<i>De Comp. Doct</i>., ii. 135, lines 19-23). +<i>Sigilla</i> is +a variant of the word in the text, <i>laculla</i>, a diminutive of +<i>lacuna</i>, signifying a dimple in the chin. +<i>Lacullum</i> is not to be found in Facciolati. +(<i>Vide</i> Riese, <i>Varro. Satur. Menipp. Rel</i>., 1865, p. 164.)]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_13" name="en_I_13"></a>13.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou Parnassus!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LX">Stanza lx.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>These stanzas were written in Castri (Delphos), at the foot +of Parnassus, now called +<span title="Liakyra">Λιακυρα</span> +(Liakura), Dec. [16], 1809.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_14" name="en_I_14"></a>14.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair is proud Seville; let her country boast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LXV">Stanza lxv.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Seville was the Hispalis of the Romans.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_15" name="en_I_15"></a>15.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ask ye, Boeotian Shades! the reason why?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LXX">Stanza lxx.</a> line 5.</p> + +<p>This was written at Thebes, and consequently in the +best situation for asking and answering such a question; +not as the birthplace of Pindar, but as the capital of Boeotia, +where the first riddle was propounded and solved.</p> + +<p>[Byron reached Thebes December 22, 1809. By the first +riddle he means, of course, the famous enigma of Oedipus—the +prototype of Boeotian wit.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_16" name="en_I_16"></a>16.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LXXXII">Stanza lxxxii.</a> line 9.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">"Medio de fonte leporum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipseis floribus angat."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib">Lucr., iv. 1133.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_17" name="en_I_17"></a>17.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Traitor only fell beneath the feud.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LXXXV">Stanza lxxxv.</a> line 7.</p> + +<p>Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the governor +of Cadiz, in May, 1808.</p> + +<p>[The Marquis of Solano, commander-in-chief of the forces +at Cadiz, was murdered by the populace. The "Supreme Junta" +of Seville had directed him to attack the French fleet +anchored off Cadiz, and Admiral Purvis, acting in concert +with General Spencer, had offered to co-operate, but Solano +was unwilling to take his orders "from a self-constituted +authority, and hesitated to commit his country in war with +a power whose strength he knew better than the temper of +his countrymen." "His abilities, courage, and unblemished +character have never been denied."—Napier's +<i>War in the Peninsula</i>, i. 20, 21.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_18" name="en_I_18"></a>18.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"War even to the knife!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_LXXXVI">Stanza lxxxvi.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>"War to the knife." Palafox's answer to the French +general at the siege of Saragoza.</p> + +<p>[Towards the close of the first siege of Zaragoza, +August 5, 1808, Marshal Lefebvre (1755-1820), under the +impression that the city had fallen into his hands, +"required Palafox to surrender in these words: +'Quartel-general, Santa Engracia. La Capitulation!' +['Head-quarters, St. Engracia. Capitulation']. +The reply was, +'Quartel-general, Zaragoza. Guerra al cuchillo' +['Head-quarters, Zaragoza. War at the knife's point']." +Subsequently, December, 1808, when Moncey (1754-1842) again called +upon him to surrender, he appealed to the people of Madrid. +"The dogs," he said, "by whom he was beset scarcely left +him time to clean his sword from their blood; but they still +found their grave at Zaragoza." Southey notes that "all +Palafox's proclamations had the high tone and something +of the inflection of Spanish romance, suiting the character +of those to whom it was directed" (<i>Peninsular War</i>, ii. 25; +iii. 152; <i>Narrative of the Siege</i>, by C. R. Vaughan, 1809, +pp. 22, 23). Napier, whose account of the first siege of +Zaragoza is based on Caballero's +<i>Victoires et Conquètes des Français</i>, +and on the <i>Journal of Lefebvre's Operations</i> +(MSS.), does not record these romantic incidents. He +attributes the raising of the siege to the "bad discipline +of the French, and the system of terror established by the +Spanish leaders." The inspirers and proclaimers of "war +even to the knife" were, he maintains, <i>Tio</i> or Goodman +Jorge (Jorge Ibort) and Tio Murin, and not Palafox, who +was ignorant of war, and who, on more than one occasion, +was careful to provide for his own safety (<i>History of the +War in the Peninsula</i>, i. 41-46).]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_I_19" name="en_I_19"></a>19.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, my friend! etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CI_XCI">Stanza xci.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The Honourable John Wingfield, of the Guards, who +died of a fever at Coimbra (May 14, 1811). I had known +him ten years, the better half of his life, and the happiest +part of mine. In the short space of one month I have lost +<i>her</i> who gave me being, and most of those who had made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> +that being tolerable. To me the lines of Young are no fiction—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Insatiate archer! could not one suffice?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thrice ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Night Thoughts: The Complaint</i>, Night i.<br />(London, 1825, p. 5).</p> + +<p>I should have ventured a verse to the memory of the late +Charles Skinner Matthews, Fellow of Downing College, +Cambridge, were he not too much above all praise of mine. +His powers of mind, shown in the attainment of greater +honours, against the ablest candidates, than those of any +graduate on record at Cambridge, have sufficiently established +his fame on the spot where it was acquired; while his +softer qualities live in the recollection of friends who loved +him too well to envy his superiority. [To an objection made +by Dallas to this note, Byron replied, "I was so sincere in +my note on the late Charles Matthews, and do feel myself so +totally unable to do justice to his talents, that the passage +must stand for the very reason you bring against it. To +him all the men I ever knew were pigmies. He was an +intellectual giant. It is true I loved Wingfield better; he +was the earliest and the dearest, and one of the few one +could never repent of having loved: but in ability—ah! +you did not know Matthews,!"—<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 8. [For +Charles Skinner Matthews, and the Honourable John Wingfield, +see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 150 note, 180 note. See, too, +"Childish Recollections," <i>Poems</i>, 1898, i. 96, note.]</p> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_110" id="Footnote_110"></a><a href="#FNanchor_110"><span class="label">[110]</span></a> +<a id="Note_88" name="Note_88">{88}</a> [<i>Vide post</i>, p. 196, <a href="#Footnote_242">note 1</a>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_111" id="Footnote_111"></a><a href="#FNanchor_111"><span class="label">[111]</span></a> [In a letter to J. B. S. Morritt, April 26, 1811, Sir Walter +Scott writes, "I meditate some wild stanzas referring to +the Peninsula; if I can lick them into any shape, I hope to +get something handsome from the booksellers for the Portuguese +sufferers: 'Silver and gold have I none, but that +which I have I will give unto them.' My lyrics are called +The Vision of Don Roderick." —Lockhart's <i>Mem. of the Life +of Sir W. Scott</i>, 1871, p. 205.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_112" id="Footnote_112"></a><a href="#FNanchor_112"><span class="label">[112]</span></a> <a id="Note_89" name="Note_89">{89}</a> [François Horace Bastien Sebastiani (1772-1851), one of +Napoleon's generals, defeated the Spanish at Ciudad Real, +March 17, 1809. In his official report he said that he had +sabred more than 3000 Spaniards in flight. At the battle of +Talavera, July 27, his corps suffered heavily; but at Almonacid, +August 11, he was again victorious over the Spanish.]</p></div> +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<div class="titlepage"> + <h1>CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE + <br /> + <span style="font-size:75%">CANTO THE SECOND</span>.</h1> + +</div> + +<hr class="major" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20"><span class="smcap">Childe Harold</span><br /></span> +<span class="i25">Canto 2.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Byron. Joannina in Albania.<br /></span> +<span class="i20">Begun Oct. 31st 1809.<br /></span> +<span class="i16">Concluded Canto 2. Smyrna.<br /></span> +<span class="i22">March 28<span class="sup">th</span>, 1810.<span style="margin-left:3em;">[MS. D.]</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CANTO_SECOND" id="CANTO_SECOND"></a>CANTO THE SECOND +</h2> + + +<h4><a id="CII_I" name="CII_I"></a>I.<a name="FNanchor_113" id="FNanchor_113"></a><a href="#Footnote_113" class="fnanchor">[113]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Come</span>, blue-eyed Maid of Heaven!—but Thou, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Didst never yet one mortal song inspire—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Goddess of Wisdom! here thy temple was,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And is, despite of War and wasting fire, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_1">[1.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And years, that bade thy worship to expire:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_2">[2.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of men who never felt the sacred glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That thoughts of thee and thine on polished breasts bestow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ancient of days! august Athena! where,<a name="FNanchor_DO" id="FNanchor_DO"></a><a href="#Footnote_DO" class="fnanchor">[do]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gone—glimmering through the dream of things that were:<a name="FNanchor_DP" id="FNanchor_DP"></a><a href="#Footnote_DP" class="fnanchor">[dp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">First in the race that led to Glory's goal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They won, and passed away—is this the whole?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The Warrior's weapon and the Sophist's stole<a name="FNanchor_114" id="FNanchor_114"></a><a href="#Footnote_114" class="fnanchor">[114]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dim with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.<a name="FNanchor_DQ" id="FNanchor_DQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_DQ" class="fnanchor">[dq]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Son of the Morning, rise! approach you here!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come—but molest not yon defenceless Urn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look on this spot—a Nation's sepulchre!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abode of Gods, whose shrines no longer burn.<a name="FNanchor_DR" id="FNanchor_DR"></a><a href="#Footnote_DR" class="fnanchor">[dr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even Gods must yield—Religions take their turn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas Jove's—'tis Mahomet's—and other Creeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will rise with other years, till Man shall learn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Poor child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds.<a name="FNanchor_DS" id="FNanchor_DS"></a><a href="#Footnote_DS" class="fnanchor">[ds]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Bound to the Earth, he lifts his eye to Heaven—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is't not enough, Unhappy Thing! to know<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art? Is this a boon so kindly given,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That being, thou would'st be again, and go,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thou know'st not, reck'st not to what region, so<a name="FNanchor_115" id="FNanchor_115"></a><a href="#Footnote_115" class="fnanchor">[115]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">On Earth no more, but mingled with the skies?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still wilt thou dream on future Joy and Woe?<a name="FNanchor_DT" id="FNanchor_DT"></a><a href="#Footnote_DT" class="fnanchor">[dt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Regard and weigh yon dust before it flies:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That little urn saith more than thousand Homilies.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_V" name="CII_V"></a>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or burst the vanished Hero's lofty mound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Far on the solitary shore he sleeps: <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_3">[3.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">He fell, and falling nations mourned around;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now not one of saddening thousands weeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor warlike worshipper his vigil keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where demi-gods appeared, as records tell.<a name="FNanchor_DU" id="FNanchor_DU"></a><a href="#Footnote_DU" class="fnanchor">[du]</a><a name="FNanchor_116" id="FNanchor_116"></a><a href="#Footnote_116" class="fnanchor">[116]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Remove yon skull from out the scattered heaps:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is that a Temple where a God may dwell?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why ev'n the Worm at last disdains her shattered cell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look on its broken arch, its ruined wall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its chambers desolate, and portals foul:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Dome of Thought, the Palace of the Soul:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Behold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit<a name="FNanchor_117" id="FNanchor_117"></a><a href="#Footnote_117" class="fnanchor">[117]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Passion's host, that never brooked control:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can all Saint, Sage, or Sophist ever writ,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">People this lonely tower, this tenement refit?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Well didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son!<a name="FNanchor_118" id="FNanchor_118"></a><a href="#Footnote_118" class="fnanchor">[118]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">"All that we know is, nothing can be known."<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why should we shrink from what we cannot shun?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each hath its pang, but feeble sufferers groan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With brain-born dreams of Evil all their own.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pursue what Chance or Fate proclaimeth best;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peace waits us on the shores of Acheron:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There no forced banquet claims the sated guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But Silence spreads the couch of ever welcome Rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.<a name="FNanchor_119" id="FNanchor_119"></a><a href="#Footnote_119" class="fnanchor">[119]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet if, as holiest men have deemed, there be<a name="FNanchor_DV" id="FNanchor_DV"></a><a href="#Footnote_DV" class="fnanchor">[dv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A land of Souls beyond that sable shore,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To shame the Doctrine of the Sadducee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Sophists, madly vain of dubious lore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How sweet it were in concert to adore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With those who made our mortal labours light!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear each voice we feared to hear no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Behold each mighty shade revealed to sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the Right!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.<a name="FNanchor_120" id="FNanchor_120"></a><a href="#Footnote_120" class="fnanchor">[120]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, Thou!—whose Love and Life together fled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have left me here to love and live in vain—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Twined with my heart, and can I deem thee dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When busy Memory flashes on my brain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Well—I will dream that we may meet again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And woo the vision to my vacant breast:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If aught of young Remembrance then remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be as it may Futurity's behest,<a name="FNanchor_DW" id="FNanchor_DW"></a><a href="#Footnote_DW" class="fnanchor">[dw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">For me 'twere bliss enough to know thy spirit blest!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_X" name="CII_X"></a>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here let me sit upon this massy stone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The marble column's yet unshaken base;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here, son of Saturn! was thy favourite throne: <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_4">[4.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mightiest of many such! Hence let me trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The latent grandeur of thy dwelling-place.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It may not be: nor ev'n can Fancy's eye<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Restore what Time hath laboured to deface.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet these proud Pillars claim no passing sigh;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unmoved the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XI" name="CII_XI"></a>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But who, of all the plunderers of yon Fane<a name="FNanchor_121" id="FNanchor_121"></a><a href="#Footnote_121" class="fnanchor">[121]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">On high—where Pallas linger'd, loth to flee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The latest relic of her ancient reign—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was he?<a name="FNanchor_DX" id="FNanchor_DX"></a><a href="#Footnote_DX" class="fnanchor">[dx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blush, Caledonia! such thy son could be!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">England! I joy no child he was of thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy free-born men should spare what once was free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet they could violate each saddening shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And hear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_5">[5.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XII" name="CII_XII"></a>XII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But most the modern Pict's ignoble boast,<a name="FNanchor_DY" id="FNanchor_DY"></a><a href="#Footnote_DY" class="fnanchor">[dy]</a><a name="FNanchor_122" id="FNanchor_122"></a><a href="#Footnote_122" class="fnanchor">[122]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared: <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_6">[6.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Cold as the crags upon his native coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His mind as barren and his heart as hard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is he whose head conceived, whose hand prepared.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught to displace Athenæ's poor remains:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her Sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet felt some portion of their Mother's pains, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_7">[7.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And never knew, till then, the weight of Despot's chains.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue,<a name="FNanchor_DZ" id="FNanchor_DZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_DZ" class="fnanchor">[dz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Albion was happy in Athena's tears?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Though in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Ocean Queen, the free Britannia, bears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The last poor plunder from a bleeding land:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yes, she, whose generous aid her name endears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which envious Eld forbore, and tyrants left to stand.<a name="FNanchor_EA" id="FNanchor_EA"></a><a href="#Footnote_EA" class="fnanchor">[ea]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_XIV" name="CII_XIV"></a>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was thine Ægis, Pallas! that appalled<a name="FNanchor_EB" id="FNanchor_EB"></a><a href="#Footnote_EB" class="fnanchor">[eb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way? <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_8">[8.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Peleus' son? whom Hell in vain enthralled.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His shade from Hades upon that dread day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bursting to light in terrible array!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What! could not Pluto spare the Chief once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To scare a second robber from his prey?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Idly he wandered on the Stygian shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor now preserved the walls he loved to shield before.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor feels as Lovers o'er the dust they loved;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Dull is the eye that will not weep to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By British hands, which it had best behoved<a name="FNanchor_EC" id="FNanchor_EC"></a><a href="#Footnote_EC" class="fnanchor">[ec]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To guard those relics ne'er to be restored:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Curst be the hour when from their isle they roved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And once again thy hapless bosom gored,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And snatched thy shrinking Gods to Northern climes abhorred!<a name="FNanchor_123" id="FNanchor_123"></a><a href="#Footnote_123" class="fnanchor">[123]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But where is Harold? shall I then forget<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To urge the gloomy Wanderer o'er the wave?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Little recked he of all that Men regret;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No loved-one now in feigned lament could rave;<a name="FNanchor_124" id="FNanchor_124"></a><a href="#Footnote_124" class="fnanchor">[124]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">No friend the parting hand extended gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ere the cold Stranger passed to other climes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hard is his heart whom charms may not enslave;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Harold felt not as in other times,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And left without a sigh the land of War and Crimes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He that has sailed upon the dark blue sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has viewed at times, I ween, a full fair sight,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The white sail set, the gallant Frigate tight—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Masts, spires, and strand retiring to the right,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glorious Main expanding o'er the bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Convoy spread like wild swans in their flight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dullest sailer wearing bravely now—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XVIII" name="CII_XVIII"></a>XVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And oh, the little warlike world within!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The well-reeved guns, the netted canopy, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_9">[9.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hoarse command, the busy humming din,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, at a word, the tops are manned on high:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark, to the Boatswain's call, the cheering cry!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or schoolboy Midshipman that, standing by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Strains his shrill pipe as good or ill betides,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And well the docile crew that skilful Urchin guides.<a name="FNanchor_ED" id="FNanchor_ED"></a><a href="#Footnote_ED" class="fnanchor">[ed]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">White is the glassy deck, without a stain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where on the watch the staid Lieutenant walks:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look on that part which sacred doth remain<a name="FNanchor_EE" id="FNanchor_EE"></a><a href="#Footnote_EE" class="fnanchor">[ee]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the lone Chieftain, who majestic stalks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silent and feared by all—not oft he talks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With aught beneath him, if he would preserve<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span> +<span class="i2">That strict restraint, which broken, ever balks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conquest and Fame: but Britons rarely swerve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve<a name="FNanchor_EF" id="FNanchor_EF"></a><a href="#Footnote_EF" class="fnanchor">[ef]</a>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Blow! swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling gale!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the broad Sun withdraws his lessening ray:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then must the Pennant-bearer slacken sail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That lagging barks may make their lazy way.<a name="FNanchor_125" id="FNanchor_125"></a><a href="#Footnote_125" class="fnanchor">[125]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! grievance sore, and listless dull delay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest breeze!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What leagues are lost, before the dawn of day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus loitering pensive on the willing seas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The flapping sail hauled down to halt for logs like these!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids believe<a name="FNanchor_EG" id="FNanchor_EG"></a><a href="#Footnote_EG" class="fnanchor">[eg]</a>:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such be our fate when we return to land!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand<a name="FNanchor_EH" id="FNanchor_EH"></a><a href="#Footnote_EH" class="fnanchor">[eh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A circle there of merry listeners stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or to some well-known measure featly move,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thoughtless, as if on shore they still were free to rove.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Through Calpe's straits survey the steepy shore;<a name="FNanchor_EI" id="FNanchor_EI"></a><a href="#Footnote_EI" class="fnanchor">[ei]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Europe and Afric on each other gaze!<a name="FNanchor_126" id="FNanchor_126"></a><a href="#Footnote_126" class="fnanchor">[126]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lands of the dark-eyed Maid and dusky Moor<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alike beheld beneath pale Hecate's blaze:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How softly on the Spanish shore she plays!<a name="FNanchor_127" id="FNanchor_127"></a><a href="#Footnote_127" class="fnanchor">[127]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disclosing rock, and slope, and forest brown,<a name="FNanchor_128" id="FNanchor_128"></a><a href="#Footnote_128" class="fnanchor">[128]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Distinct, though darkening with her waning phase;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Mauritania's giant-shadows frown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From mountain-cliff to coast descending sombre down.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis night, when Meditation bids us feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We once have loved, though Love is at an end:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal,<a name="FNanchor_EJ" id="FNanchor_EJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_EJ" class="fnanchor">[ej]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though friendless now, will dream it had a friend.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who with the weight of years would wish to bend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Youth itself survives young Love and Joy?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death hath but little left him to destroy!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy?<a name="FNanchor_EK" id="FNanchor_EK"></a><a href="#Footnote_EK" class="fnanchor">[ek]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus bending o'er the vessel's laving side,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gaze on Dian's wave-reflected sphere,<a name="FNanchor_EL" id="FNanchor_EL"></a><a href="#Footnote_EL" class="fnanchor">[el]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride,<a name="FNanchor_EM" id="FNanchor_EM"></a><a href="#Footnote_EM" class="fnanchor">[em]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And flies unconscious o'er each backward year;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +<span class="i2">None are so desolate but something dear,<a name="FNanchor_EN" id="FNanchor_EN"></a><a href="#Footnote_EN" class="fnanchor">[en]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dearer than self, possesses or possessed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thought, and claims the homage of a tear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A flashing pang! of which the weary breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart divest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXV.<a name="FNanchor_EO" id="FNanchor_EO"></a><a href="#Footnote_EO" class="fnanchor">[eo]</a><a name="FNanchor_129" id="FNanchor_129"></a><a href="#Footnote_129" class="fnanchor">[129]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To sit on rocks—to muse o'er flood and fell—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To slowly trace the forest's shady scene,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Where things that own not Man's dominion dwell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To climb the trackless mountain all unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the wild flock that never needs a fold;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;<a name="FNanchor_EP" id="FNanchor_EP"></a><a href="#Footnote_EP" class="fnanchor">[ep]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">This is not Solitude—'tis but to hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Converse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And roam along, the World's tired denizen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Minions of Splendour shrinking from distress!<a name="FNanchor_130" id="FNanchor_130"></a><a href="#Footnote_130" class="fnanchor">[130]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">None that, with kindred consciousness endued,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If we were not, would seem to smile the less,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all that flattered—followed—sought, and sued:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This is to be alone—This, This is Solitude!<a name="FNanchor_EQ" id="FNanchor_EQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_EQ" class="fnanchor">[eq]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVII.<a name="FNanchor_131" id="FNanchor_131"></a><a href="#Footnote_131" class="fnanchor">[131]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">More blest the life of godly Eremite,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such as on lonely Athos may be seen,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Watching at eve upon the Giant Height,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which looks o'er waves so blue, skies so serene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That he who there at such an hour hath been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will wistful linger on that hallowed spot;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then slowly tear him from the 'witching scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sigh forth one wish that such had been his lot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then turn to hate a world he had almost forgot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pass we the long unvarying course, the track<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft trod, that never leaves a trace behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pass we the calm—the gale—the change—the tack,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And each well known caprice of wave and wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pass we the joys and sorrows sailors find,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cooped in their wingéd sea-girt citadel;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The foul—the fair—the contrary—the kind—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As breezes rise and fall and billows swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till on some jocund morn—lo, Land! and All is well!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XXIX" name="CII_XXIX"></a>XXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But not in silence pass Calypso's isles, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_10">[10.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sister tenants of the middle deep;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There for the weary still a Haven smiles,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the fair Goddess long hath ceased to weep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For him who dared prefer a mortal bride:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here, too, his boy essayed the dreadful leap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thus of both bereft, the Nymph-Queen doubly sighed.<a name="FNanchor_132" id="FNanchor_132"></a><a href="#Footnote_132" class="fnanchor">[132]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her reign is past, her gentle glories gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But trust not this; too easy Youth, beware!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mortal Sovereign holds her dangerous throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou may'st find a new Calypso there.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet Florence<a name="FNanchor_133" id="FNanchor_133"></a><a href="#Footnote_133" class="fnanchor">[133]</a> could another ever share<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This wayward, loveless heart, it would be thine:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But checked by every tie, I may not dare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To cast a worthless offering at thy shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor ask so dear a breast to feel one pang for <i>mine</i>.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus Harold deemed, as on that Lady's eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He looked, and met its beam without a thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save Admiration glancing harmless by:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love kept aloof, albeit not far remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who knew his Votary often lost and caught,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But knew him as his Worshipper no more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And ne'er again the Boy his bosom sought:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since now he vainly urged him to adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well deemed the little God his ancient sway was o'er.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Florence found, in sooth with some amaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One who, 'twas said, still sighed to all he saw,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Withstand, unmoved, the lustre of her gaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which others hailed with real or mimic awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their hope, their doom, their punishment, their law;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that gay Beauty from her bondsmen claims:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And much she marvelled that a youth so raw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor felt, nor feigned at least, the oft-told flames,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which though sometimes they frown, yet rarely anger dames.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Little knew she that seeming marble heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now masked in silence or withheld by Pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spread its snares licentious far and wide;<a name="FNanchor_134" id="FNanchor_134"></a><a href="#Footnote_134" class="fnanchor">[134]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor from the base pursuit had turned aside,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As long as aught was worthy to pursue:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Harold on such arts no more relied;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And had he doted on those eyes so blue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet never would he join the lover's whining crew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not much he kens, I ween, of Woman's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +<span class="i2">What careth she for hearts when once possessed?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Do proper homage to thine Idol's eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not too humbly, or she will despise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disguise ev'n tenderness, if thou art wise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Brisk Confidence still best with woman copes:<a name="FNanchor_ER" id="FNanchor_ER"></a><a href="#Footnote_ER" class="fnanchor">[er]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pique her and soothe in turn—soon Passion crowns thy hopes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis an old lesson—Time approves it true,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those who know it best, deplore it most;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all is won that all desire to woo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The paltry prize is hardly worth the cost:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Youth wasted—Minds degraded—Honour lost—<a name="FNanchor_ES" id="FNanchor_ES"></a><a href="#Footnote_ES" class="fnanchor">[es]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">These are thy fruits, successful Passion! these!<a name="FNanchor_135" id="FNanchor_135"></a><a href="#Footnote_135" class="fnanchor">[135]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">If, kindly cruel, early Hope is crost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still to the last it rankles, a disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not to be cured when Love itself forgets to please.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away! nor let me loiter in my song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For we have many a mountain-path to tread,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And many a varied shore to sail along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Climes, fair withal as ever mortal head<a name="FNanchor_ET" id="FNanchor_ET"></a><a href="#Footnote_ET" class="fnanchor">[et]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Imagined in its little schemes of thought;<a name="FNanchor_EU" id="FNanchor_EU"></a><a href="#Footnote_EU" class="fnanchor">[eu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or e'er in new Utopias were ared,<a name="FNanchor_136" id="FNanchor_136"></a><a href="#Footnote_136" class="fnanchor">[136]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To teach Man what he might be, or he ought—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If that corrupted thing could ever such be taught.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dear Nature is the kindest mother still!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though always changing, in her aspect mild;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From her bare bosom let me take my fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her never-weaned, though not her favoured child.<a name="FNanchor_EV" id="FNanchor_EV"></a><a href="#Footnote_EV" class="fnanchor">[ev]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! she is fairest in her features wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where nothing polished dares pollute her path:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To me by day or night she ever smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though I have marked her when none other hath,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.<a name="FNanchor_137" id="FNanchor_137"></a><a href="#Footnote_137" class="fnanchor">[137]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XXXVIII" name="CII_XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of Albania! where Iskander rose,<a name="FNanchor_138" id="FNanchor_138"></a><a href="#Footnote_138" class="fnanchor">[138]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Theme of the young, and beacon of the wise,<a name="FNanchor_139" id="FNanchor_139"></a><a href="#Footnote_139" class="fnanchor">[139]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And he his namesake, whose oft-baffled foes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shrunk from his deeds of chivalrous emprize:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_11">[11.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">On thee, thou rugged Nurse of savage men!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Cross descends, thy Minarets arise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the pale Crescent sparkles in the glen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through many a cypress-grove within each city's ken.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XXXIX" name="CII_XXXIX"></a>XXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Childe Harold sailed, and passed the barren spot,<a name="FNanchor_140" id="FNanchor_140"></a><a href="#Footnote_140" class="fnanchor">[140]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_12">[12.B.]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Lover's refuge, and the Lesbian's grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark Sappho! could not Verse immortal save<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That breast imbued with such immortal fire?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could she not live who life eternal gave?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If life eternal may await the lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That only Heaven to which Earth's children may aspire.<a name="FNanchor_141" id="FNanchor_141"></a><a href="#Footnote_141" class="fnanchor">[141]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XL" name="CII_XL"></a>XL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childe Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A spot he longed to see, nor cared to leave:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft did he mark the scenes of vanished war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Actium—Lepanto—fatal Trafalgar; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_13">[13.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mark them unmoved, for he would not delight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Born beneath some remote inglorious star)<a name="FNanchor_142" id="FNanchor_142"></a><a href="#Footnote_142" class="fnanchor">[142]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But loathed the bravo's trade, and laughed at martial wight.<a name="FNanchor_EW" id="FNanchor_EW"></a><a href="#Footnote_EW" class="fnanchor">[ew]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XLI" name="CII_XLI"></a>XLI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when he saw the Evening star above<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leucadia's far-projecting rock of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hailed the last resort of fruitless love, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_14">[14.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">He felt, or deemed he felt, no common glow:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as the stately vessel glided slow<a name="FNanchor_143" id="FNanchor_143"></a><a href="#Footnote_143" class="fnanchor">[143]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath the shadow of that ancient mount,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He watched the billows' melancholy flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont,<a name="FNanchor_EX" id="FNanchor_EX"></a><a href="#Footnote_EX" class="fnanchor">[ex]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">More placid seemed his eye, and smooth his pallid front.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Morn dawns; and with it stern Albania's hills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak,<a name="FNanchor_144" id="FNanchor_144"></a><a href="#Footnote_144" class="fnanchor">[144]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arrayed in many a dun and purple streak,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arise; and, as the clouds along them break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here roams the wolf—the eagle whets his beak—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Birds—beasts of prey—and wilder men appear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gathering storms around convulse the closing year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now Harold felt himself at length alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bade to Christian tongues a long adieu;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now he adventured on a shore unknown,<a name="FNanchor_145" id="FNanchor_145"></a><a href="#Footnote_145" class="fnanchor">[145]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which all admire, but many dread to view:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His breast was armed 'gainst fate, his wants were few<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peril he sought not, but ne'er shrank to meet:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scene was savage, but the scene was new;<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>This</i> made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beat back keen Winter's blast, and welcomed Summer's heat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here the red Cross, for still the Cross is here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though sadly scoffed at by the circumcised,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Forgets that Pride to pampered priesthood dear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Churchman and Votary alike despised.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Foul Superstition! howsoe'er disguised,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Idol—Saint—Virgin—Prophet—Crescent—Cross—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For whatsoever symbol thou art prized,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou sacerdotal gain, but general loss!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who from true Worship's gold can separate thy dross?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XLV" name="CII_XLV"></a>XLV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ambracia's gulf behold, where once was lost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A world for Woman, lovely, harmless thing!<a name="FNanchor_EY" id="FNanchor_EY"></a><a href="#Footnote_EY" class="fnanchor">[ey]</a><a name="FNanchor_146" id="FNanchor_146"></a><a href="#Footnote_146" class="fnanchor">[146]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In yonder rippling bay, their naval host<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did many a Roman chief and Asian King <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_15">[15.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look where the second Cæsar's trophies rose!<a name="FNanchor_147" id="FNanchor_147"></a><a href="#Footnote_147" class="fnanchor">[147]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_16">[16.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now, like the hands that reared them, withering:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Imperial Anarchs, doubling human woes!<a name="FNanchor_EZ" id="FNanchor_EZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_EZ" class="fnanchor">[ez]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">God</span>! was thy globe ordained for such to win and lose?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span>XLVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From the dark barriers of that rugged clime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ev'n to the centre of Illyria's vales,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childe Harold passed o'er many a mount sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through lands scarce noticed in historic tales:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet in famed Attica such lovely dales<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are rarely seen; nor can fair Tempe boast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A charm they know not; loved Parnassus fails,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though classic ground and consecrated most,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To match some spots that lurk within this lowering coast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XLVII" name="CII_XLVII"></a>XLVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He passed bleak Pindus, Acherusia's lake, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_17">[17.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And left the primal city of the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And onwards did his further journey take<a name="FNanchor_148" id="FNanchor_148"></a><a href="#Footnote_148" class="fnanchor">[148]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To greet Albania's Chief, whose dread command <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_18">[18.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is lawless law; for with a bloody hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sways a nation,—turbulent and bold:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet here and there some daring mountain-band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disdain his power, and from their rocky hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurl their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_19">[19.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XLVIII" name="CII_XLVIII"></a>XLVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Monastic Zitza!<a name="FNanchor_149" id="FNanchor_149"></a><a href="#Footnote_149" class="fnanchor">[149]</a> +from thy shady brow, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_20">[20.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou small, but favoured spot of holy ground!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Where'er we gaze—around—above—below,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What rainbow tints, what magic charms are found!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rock, river, forest, mountain, all abound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bluest skies that harmonise the whole:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath, the distant Torrent's rushing sound<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tells where the volumed Cataract doth roll<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_XLIX" name="CII_XLIX"></a>XLIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amidst the grove that crowns yon tufted hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, were it not for many a mountain nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rising in lofty ranks, and loftier still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might well itself be deemed of dignity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Convent's white walls glisten fair on high:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here dwells the caloyer, nor rude is he, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_21">[21.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor niggard of his cheer;<a name="FNanchor_150" id="FNanchor_150"></a><a href="#Footnote_150" class="fnanchor">[150]</a> the passer by<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is welcome still; nor heedless will he flee<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From hence, if he delight kind Nature's sheen to see.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> + +<h4>L.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here in the sultriest season let him rest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh is the green beneath those aged trees;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast,<a name="FNanchor_FA" id="FNanchor_FA"></a><a href="#Footnote_FA" class="fnanchor">[fa]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Heaven itself he may inhale the breeze:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The plain is far beneath—oh! let him seize<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pure pleasure while he can; the scorching ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here pierceth not, impregnate with disease:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then let his length the loitering pilgrim lay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And gaze, untired, the Morn—the Noon—the Eve away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LI" name="CII_LI"></a>LI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nature's volcanic Amphitheatre, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_22">[22.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chimæra's Alps extend from left to right:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath, a living valley seems to stir;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flocks play, trees wave, streams flow, the mountain-fir<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nodding above; behold black Acheron! <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_23">[23.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Once consecrated to the sepulchre.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pluto! if this be Hell I look upon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Close shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for none<a name="FNanchor_FB" id="FNanchor_FB"></a><a href="#Footnote_FB" class="fnanchor">[fb]</a>.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_LII" name="CII_LII"></a>LII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ne city's towers pollute the lovely view;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Veiled by the screen of hills: here men are few,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scanty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But, peering down each precipice, the goat<a name="FNanchor_FC" id="FNanchor_FC"></a><a href="#Footnote_FC" class="fnanchor">[fc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Browseth; and, pensive o'er his scattered flock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The little shepherd in his white capote <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_24">[24.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or in his cave awaits the Tempest's short-lived shock.<a name="FNanchor_FD" id="FNanchor_FD"></a><a href="#Footnote_FD" class="fnanchor">[fd]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! where, Dodona!<a name="FNanchor_151" id="FNanchor_151"></a><a href="#Footnote_151" class="fnanchor">[151]</a> is thine agéd Grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prophetic Fount, and Oracle divine?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +<span class="i2">What valley echoed the response of Jove?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What trace remaineth of the Thunderer's shrine?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All, all forgotten—and shall Man repine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke?<a name="FNanchor_152" id="FNanchor_152"></a><a href="#Footnote_152" class="fnanchor">[152]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cease, Fool! the fate of Gods may well be thine:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When nations, tongues, and worlds must sink beneath the stroke!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Epirus' bounds recede, and mountains fail;<a name="FNanchor_153" id="FNanchor_153"></a><a href="#Footnote_153" class="fnanchor">[153]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tired of up-gazing still, the wearied eye<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Reposes gladly on as smooth a vale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As ever Spring yclad in grassy dye:<a name="FNanchor_154" id="FNanchor_154"></a><a href="#Footnote_154" class="fnanchor">[154]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ev'n on a plain no humble beauties lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where some bold river breaks the long expanse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And woods along the banks are waving high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose shadows in the glassy waters dance,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or with the moonbeam sleep in Midnight's solemn trance.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LV" name="CII_LV"></a>LV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_25">[25.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_26">[26.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shades of wonted night were gathering yet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, down the steep banks winding warily,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childe Harold saw, like meteors in the sky,<a name="FNanchor_155" id="FNanchor_155"></a><a href="#Footnote_155" class="fnanchor">[155]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The glittering minarets of Tepalen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose walls o'erlook the stream; and drawing nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He heard the busy hum of warrior-men<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Swelling the breeze that sighed along the lengthening glen.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He passed the sacred Haram's silent tower,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And underneath the wide o'erarching gate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Surveyed the dwelling of this Chief of power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where all around proclaimed his high estate.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Amidst no common pomp the Despot sate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While busy preparation shook the court,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Slaves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons<a name="FNanchor_156" id="FNanchor_156"></a><a href="#Footnote_156" class="fnanchor">[156]</a> wait;<a name="FNanchor_FE" id="FNanchor_FE"></a><a href="#Footnote_FE" class="fnanchor">[fe]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within, a palace, and without, a fort:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here men of every clime appear to make resort.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Richly caparisoned, a ready row<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of arméd horse, and many a warlike store,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Circled the wide-extending court below;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above, strange groups adorned the corridore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And oft-times through the area's echoing door<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some high-capped Tartar spurred his steed away:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Turk—the Greek—the Albanian—and the Moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here mingled in their many-hued array,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While the deep war-drum's sound announced the close of day.<a name="FNanchor_FF" id="FNanchor_FF"></a><a href="#Footnote_FF" class="fnanchor">[ff]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gold-embroidered garments, fair to see;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The crimson-scarféd men of Macedon;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Delhi with his cap of terror on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And crooked glaive—the lively, supple Greek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Master of all around, too potent to be meek,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Are mixed conspicuous: some recline in groups,<a name="FNanchor_157" id="FNanchor_157"></a><a href="#Footnote_157" class="fnanchor">[157]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scanning the motley scene that varies round;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There some grave Moslem to devotion stoops,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And some that smoke, and some that play, are found;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Here the Albanian proudly treads the ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Half-whispering there the Greek is heard to prate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark! from the Mosque the nightly solemn sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">"There is no god but God!—to prayer—lo! God is great!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Just at this season Ramazani's fast<a name="FNanchor_158" id="FNanchor_158"></a><a href="#Footnote_158" class="fnanchor">[158]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through the long day its penance did maintain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when the lingering twilight hour was past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revel and feast assumed the rule again:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now all was bustle, and the menial train<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prepared and spread the plenteous board within;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vacant Gallery now seemed made in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But from the chambers came the mingling din,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As page and slave anon were passing out and in.<a name="FNanchor_159" id="FNanchor_159"></a><a href="#Footnote_159" class="fnanchor">[159]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span>LXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here woman's voice is never heard: apart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And scarce permitted, guarded, veiled, to move,<a name="FNanchor_FG" id="FNanchor_FG"></a><a href="#Footnote_FG" class="fnanchor">[fg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">She yields to one her person and her heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tamed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For, not unhappy in her Master's love,<a name="FNanchor_FH" id="FNanchor_FH"></a><a href="#Footnote_FH" class="fnanchor">[fh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And joyful in a mother's gentlest cares,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blest cares! all other feelings far above!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who never quits the breast—no meaner passion shares.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of living water from the centre rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ali</span> reclined, a man of war and woes:<a name="FNanchor_160" id="FNanchor_160"></a><a href="#Footnote_160" class="fnanchor">[160]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While Gentleness her milder radiance throws<a name="FNanchor_161" id="FNanchor_161"></a><a href="#Footnote_161" class="fnanchor">[161]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along that agéd venerable face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span>LXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not that yon hoary lengthening beard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill suits the passions which belong to Youth;<a name="FNanchor_FI" id="FNanchor_FI"></a><a href="#Footnote_FI" class="fnanchor">[fi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love conquers Age—so Hafiz hath averr'd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So sings the Teian, and he sings in sooth<a name="FNanchor_162" id="FNanchor_162"></a><a href="#Footnote_162" class="fnanchor">[162]</a>—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But crimes that scorn the tender voice of ruth,<a name="FNanchor_FJ" id="FNanchor_FJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_FJ" class="fnanchor">[fj]</a><a name="FNanchor_163" id="FNanchor_163"></a><a href="#Footnote_163" class="fnanchor">[163]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beseeming all men ill, but most the man<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span> +<span class="i2">In years, have marked him with a tiger's tooth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blood follows blood, and, through their mortal span,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In bloodier acts conclude those who with blood began.<a name="FNanchor_FK" id="FNanchor_FK"></a><a href="#Footnote_FK" class="fnanchor">[fk]</a><a name="FNanchor_164" id="FNanchor_164"></a><a href="#Footnote_164" class="fnanchor">[164]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Mid many things most new to ear and eye<a name="FNanchor_FL" id="FNanchor_FL"></a><a href="#Footnote_FL" class="fnanchor">[fl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Pilgrim rested here his weary feet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gazed around on Moslem luxury,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till quickly, wearied with that spacious seat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Wealth and Wantonness, the choice retreat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of sated Grandeur from the city's noise:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And were it humbler it in sooth were sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Peace abhorreth artificial joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Pleasure, leagued with Pomp, the zest of both destroys.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fierce are Albania's children, yet they lack<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not virtues, were those virtues more mature.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where is the foe that ever saw their back?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who can so well the toil of War endure?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their native fastnesses not more secure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than they in doubtful time of troublous need:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their wrath how deadly! but their friendship sure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Gratitude or Valour bids them bleed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unshaken rushing on where'er their Chief may lead.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXVI" name="CII_LXVI"></a>LXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Childe Harold saw them in their Chieftain's tower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thronging to War in splendour and success;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And after viewed them, when, within their power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Himself awhile the victim of distress;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That saddening hour when bad men hotlier press:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But these did shelter him beneath their roof,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When less barbarians would have cheered him less,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof— <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_27">[27.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">In aught that tries the heart, how few withstand the proof!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It chanced that adverse winds once drove his bark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore,<a name="FNanchor_165" id="FNanchor_165"></a><a href="#Footnote_165" class="fnanchor">[165]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When all around was desolate and dark;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To land was perilous, to sojourn more;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet for awhile the mariners forbore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dubious to trust where Treachery might lurk:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At length they ventured forth, though doubting sore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Might once again renew their ancient butcher-work.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Vain fear! the Suliotes stretched the welcome hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Led them o'er rocks and past the dangerous swamp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kinder than polished slaves though not so bland,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And piled the hearth, and wrung their garments damp,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And filled the bowl, and trimmed the cheerful lamp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spread their fare; though homely, all they had:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To rest the weary and to soothe the sad,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Doth lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It came to pass, that when he did address<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Himself to quit at length this mountain-land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Combined marauders half-way barred egress,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wasted far and near with glaive and brand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And therefore did he take a trusty band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To traverse Acarnania's forest wide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In war well-seasoned, and with labours tanned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till he did greet white Achelous' tide,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from his further bank Ætolia's wolds espied.<a name="FNanchor_166" id="FNanchor_166"></a><a href="#Footnote_166" class="fnanchor">[166]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,<a name="FNanchor_167" id="FNanchor_167"></a><a href="#Footnote_167" class="fnanchor">[167]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And weary waves retire to gleam at rest,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +<span class="i2">How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As winds come lightly whispering from the West,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here Harold was received a welcome guest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXI" name="CII_LXXI"></a>LXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The feast was done, the red wine circling fast, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_28">[28.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he that unawares had there ygazed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With gaping wonderment had stared aghast;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The native revels of the troop began;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each Palikar his sabre from him cast, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_29">[29.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bounding hand in hand, man linked to man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yelling their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled clan.<a name="FNanchor_168" id="FNanchor_168"></a><a href="#Footnote_168" class="fnanchor">[168]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXII" name="CII_LXXII"></a>LXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Childe Harold at a little distance stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And viewed, but not displeased, the revelrie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, as the flames along their faces gleamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The long wild locks that to their girdles streamed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While thus in concert they this lay half sang, half screamed:—<a name="FNanchor_169" id="FNanchor_169"></a><a href="#Footnote_169" class="fnanchor">[169]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_30">[30.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_Song1" name="CII_Song1"></a>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Tambourgi</span>!<a name="FNanchor_170" id="FNanchor_170"></a><a href="#Footnote_170" class="fnanchor">[170]</a> Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar<a name="FNanchor_FM" id="FNanchor_FM"></a><a href="#Footnote_FM" class="fnanchor">[fm]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_31">[31.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gives hope to the valiant, and promise of war;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All the Sons of the mountains arise at the note,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chimariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! who is more brave than a dark Suliote,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his snowy camese<a name="FNanchor_171" id="FNanchor_171"></a><a href="#Footnote_171" class="fnanchor">[171]</a> and his shaggy capote?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And descends to the plain like the stream from the rock.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shall the sons of Chimari, who never forgive<a name="FNanchor_FN" id="FNanchor_FN"></a><a href="#Footnote_FN" class="fnanchor">[fn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The fault of a friend, bid an enemy live?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let those guns so unerring such vengeance forego?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What mark is so fair as the breast of a foe?<a name="FNanchor_172" id="FNanchor_172"></a><a href="#Footnote_172" class="fnanchor">[172]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Macedonia sends forth her invincible race;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For a time they abandon the cave and the chase:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>5.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then the Pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall leave on the beach the long galley and oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And track to his covert the captive on shore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I ask not the pleasures that riches supply,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My sabre shall win what the feeble must buy;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall win the young bride with her long flowing hair,<a name="FNanchor_FO" id="FNanchor_FO"></a><a href="#Footnote_FO" class="fnanchor">[fo]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And many a maid from her mother shall tear.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I love the fair face of the maid in her youth,<a name="FNanchor_FP" id="FNanchor_FP"></a><a href="#Footnote_FP" class="fnanchor">[fp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her caresses shall lull me, her music shall soothe;<a name="FNanchor_FQ" id="FNanchor_FQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_FQ" class="fnanchor">[fq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let her bring from the chamber her many-toned lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sing us a song on the fall of her Sire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_Song8" name="CII_Song8"></a>8.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember the moment when Previsa fell,<a name="FNanchor_173" id="FNanchor_173"></a><a href="#Footnote_173" class="fnanchor">[173]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_32">[32.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The shrieks of the conquered, the conquerors' yell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wealthy we slaughtered, the lovely we spared.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>9.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He neither must know who would serve the Vizier:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since the days of our Prophet the Crescent ne'er saw<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>10.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Dark Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped,<a name="FNanchor_174" id="FNanchor_174"></a><a href="#Footnote_174" class="fnanchor">[174]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the yellow-haired<a name="FNanchor_175" id="FNanchor_175"></a><a href="#Footnote_175" class="fnanchor">[175]</a> Giaours<a name="FNanchor_176" id="FNanchor_176"></a><a href="#Footnote_176" class="fnanchor">[176]</a> view his horse-tail<a name="FNanchor_177" id="FNanchor_177"></a><a href="#Footnote_177" class="fnanchor">[177]</a> with dread;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +<span class="i0">When his Delhis<a name="FNanchor_178" id="FNanchor_178"></a><a href="#Footnote_178" class="fnanchor">[178]</a> come dashing in blood o'er the banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>11.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Selictar!<a name="FNanchor_179" id="FNanchor_179"></a><a href="#Footnote_179" class="fnanchor">[179]</a> unsheathe then our chief's Scimitār;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tambourgi! thy 'larum gives promise of War.<a name="FNanchor_FR" id="FNanchor_FR"></a><a href="#Footnote_FR" class="fnanchor">[fr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ye Mountains, that see us descend to the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall view us as Victors, or view us no more!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXIII" name="CII_LXXIII"></a>LXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_33">[33.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Immortal, though no more; though fallen, great!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And long accustomed bondage uncreate?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not such thy sons who whilome did await,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The helpless warriors of a willing doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bleak Thermopylæ's sepulchral strait—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Leap from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb?<a name="FNanchor_180" id="FNanchor_180"></a><a href="#Footnote_180" class="fnanchor">[180]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXIV" name="CII_LXXIV"></a>LXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_34">[34.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Couldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But every carle can lord it o'er thy land;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed, unmanned.<a name="FNanchor_FS" id="FNanchor_FS"></a><a href="#Footnote_FS" class="fnanchor">[fs]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In all save form alone, how changed! and who<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thy unquenchéd beam, lost Liberty!<a name="FNanchor_FT" id="FNanchor_FT"></a><a href="#Footnote_FT" class="fnanchor">[ft]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many dream withal the hour is nigh<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That gives them back their fathers' heritage:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or tear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hereditary Bondsmen! know ye not<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who</i> would be free <i>themselves</i> must strike the blow?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By their right arms the conquest must be wrought?<a name="FNanchor_181" id="FNanchor_181"></a><a href="#Footnote_181" class="fnanchor">[181]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">True—they may lay your proud despoilers low,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But not for you will Freedom's Altars flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Greece! change thy lords, thy state is still the same;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXVII" name="CII_LXXVII"></a>LXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The city won for Allah from the Giaour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the Serai's impenetrable tower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_35">[35.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or Wahab's<a name="FNanchor_182" id="FNanchor_182"></a><a href="#Footnote_182" class="fnanchor">[182]</a> rebel brood who dared divest<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_36">[36.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">May wind their path of blood along the West;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ne'er will Freedom seek this fated soil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But slave succeed to slave through years of endless toil.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet mark their mirth—ere Lenten days begin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That penance which their holy rites prepare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To shrive from Man his weight of mortal sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By daily abstinence and nightly prayer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But ere his sackcloth garb Repentance wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some days of joyaunce are decreed to all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To take of pleasaunce each his secret share,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In motley robe to dance at masking ball,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And join the mimic train of merry Carnival.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIX.<a name="FNanchor_183" id="FNanchor_183"></a><a href="#Footnote_183" class="fnanchor">[183]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And whose more rife with merriment than thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh Stamboul! once the Empress of their reign?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Greece her very altars eyes in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Alas! her woes will still pervade my strain!)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gay were her minstrels once, for free her throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All felt the common joy they now must feign,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As wooed the eye, and thrilled the Bosphorus along.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Loud was the lightsome tumult on the shore,<a name="FNanchor_184" id="FNanchor_184"></a><a href="#Footnote_184" class="fnanchor">[184]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oft Music changed, but never ceased her tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And timely echoed back the measured oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And rippling waters made a pleasant moan:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Queen of tides on high consenting shone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when a transient breeze swept o'er the wave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Twas, as if darting from her heavenly throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A brighter glance her form reflected gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till sparkling billows seemed to light the banks they lave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glanced many a light Caique along the foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Danced on the shore the daughters of the land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No thought had man or maid of rest or home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While many a languid eye and thrilling hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Exchanged the look few bosoms may withstand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or gently prest, returned the pressure still:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy band,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let sage or cynic prattle as he will,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill!<a name="FNanchor_185" id="FNanchor_185"></a><a href="#Footnote_185" class="fnanchor">[185]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But, midst the throng in merry masquerade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lurk there no hearts that throb with secret pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even through the closest searment<a name="FNanchor_186" id="FNanchor_186"></a><a href="#Footnote_186" class="fnanchor">[186]</a> half betrayed?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To such the gentle murmurs of the main<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seem to re-echo all they mourn in vain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To such the gladness of the gamesome crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is source of wayward thought and stern disdain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How do they loathe the laughter idly loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And long to change the robe of revel for the shroud!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This must he feel, the true-born son of Greece,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If Greece one true-born patriot still can boast:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not such as prate of War, but skulk in Peace,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bondsman's peace, who sighs for all he lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet with smooth smile his Tyrant can accost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wield the slavish sickle, not the sword:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ah! Greece! they love thee least who owe thee most—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their birth, their blood, and that sublime record<a name="FNanchor_187" id="FNanchor_187"></a><a href="#Footnote_187" class="fnanchor">[187]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hero Sires, who shame thy now degenerate horde!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When riseth Lacedemon's Hardihood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Thebes Epaminondas rears again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Athens' children are with hearts endued,<a name="FNanchor_FU" id="FNanchor_FU"></a><a href="#Footnote_FU" class="fnanchor">[fu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then may'st thou be restored; but not till then.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand years scarce serve to form a state;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An hour may lay it in the dust: and when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can Man its shattered splendour renovate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Recall its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXXV" name="CII_LXXXV"></a>LXXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And yet how lovely in thine age of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Land of lost Gods and godlike men, art thou!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_37">[37.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Commingling slowly with heroic earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broke by the share of every rustic plough:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So perish monuments of mortal birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So perish all in turn, save well-recorded <i>Worth</i>:<a name="FNanchor_188" id="FNanchor_188"></a><a href="#Footnote_188" class="fnanchor">[188]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXXVI" name="CII_LXXXVI"></a>LXXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Save where some solitary column<a name="FNanchor_189" id="FNanchor_189"></a><a href="#Footnote_189" class="fnanchor">[189]</a> mourns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above its prostrate brethren of the cave; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_38">[38.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save where Tritonia's<a name="FNanchor_190" id="FNanchor_190"></a><a href="#Footnote_190" class="fnanchor">[190]</a> airy shrine adorns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Colonna's cliff,<a name="FNanchor_191" id="FNanchor_191"></a><a href="#Footnote_191" class="fnanchor">[191]</a> and gleams along the wave;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the gray stones and unmolested grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ages, but not Oblivion, feebly brave;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While strangers, only, not regardless pass,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lingering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh "Alas!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thine olive ripe as when Minerva<a name="FNanchor_192" id="FNanchor_192"></a><a href="#Footnote_192" class="fnanchor">[192]</a> smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And still his honied wealth Hymettus<a name="FNanchor_193" id="FNanchor_193"></a><a href="#Footnote_193" class="fnanchor">[193]</a> yields;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There the blithe Bee his fragrant fortress builds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The free-born wanderer of thy mountain-air;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare:<a name="FNanchor_FV" id="FNanchor_FV"></a><a href="#Footnote_FV" class="fnanchor">[fv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Art, Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXVIII.<a name="FNanchor_194" id="FNanchor_194"></a><a href="#Footnote_194" class="fnanchor">[194]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But one vast realm of Wonder spreads around,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all the Muse's tales seem truly told,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the sense aches with gazing to behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Age shakes Athenæ's tower, but spares gray Marathon.<a name="FNanchor_195" id="FNanchor_195"></a><a href="#Footnote_195" class="fnanchor">[195]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="CII_LXXXIX" name="CII_LXXXIX"></a>LXXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Sun, the soil—but not the slave, the same;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unchanged in all except its foreign Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Preserves alike its bounds and boundless fame<a name="FNanchor_FW" id="FNanchor_FW"></a><a href="#Footnote_FW" class="fnanchor">[fw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As on the morn to distant Glory dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Marathon became a magic word; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_II_39">[39.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which uttered, to the hearer's eye appear<a name="FNanchor_FX" id="FNanchor_FX"></a><a href="#Footnote_FX" class="fnanchor">[fx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The camp, the host, the fight, the Conqueror's career,<a name="FNanchor_FY" id="FNanchor_FY"></a><a href="#Footnote_FY" class="fnanchor">[fy]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XC.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow—<a name="FNanchor_FZ" id="FNanchor_FZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_FZ" class="fnanchor">[fz]</a><a name="FNanchor_196" id="FNanchor_196"></a><a href="#Footnote_196" class="fnanchor">[196]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mountains above—Earth's, Ocean's plain below—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death in the front, Destruction in the rear!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Such was the scene—what now remaineth here?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What sacred Trophy marks the hallowed ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Recording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear?<a name="FNanchor_GA" id="FNanchor_GA"></a><a href="#Footnote_GA" class="fnanchor">[ga]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rifled urn, the violated mound,<a name="FNanchor_197" id="FNanchor_197"></a><a href="#Footnote_197" class="fnanchor">[197]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger! spurns around.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet to the remnants of thy Splendour past<a name="FNanchor_GB" id="FNanchor_GB"></a><a href="#Footnote_GB" class="fnanchor">[gb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied, throng;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long shall the voyager, with th' Ionian blast,<a name="FNanchor_198" id="FNanchor_198"></a><a href="#Footnote_198" class="fnanchor">[198]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hail the bright clime of Battle and of Song:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long shall thine annals and immortal tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fill with thy fame the youth of many a shore;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Boast of the agéd! lesson of the young!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which Sages venerate and Bards adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The parted bosom clings to wonted home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If aught that's kindred cheer the welcome hearth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He that is lonely—hither let him roam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gaze complacent on congenial earth.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Greece is no lightsome land of social mirth:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he whom Sadness sootheth may abide,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And scarce regret the region of his birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When wandering slow by Delphi's sacred side,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or gazing o'er the plains where Greek and Persian died.<a name="FNanchor_199" id="FNanchor_199"></a><a href="#Footnote_199" class="fnanchor">[199]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let such approach this consecrated Land,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pass in peace along the magic waste;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But spare its relics—let no busy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deface the scenes, already how defaced!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not for such purpose were these altars placed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Revere the remnants Nations once revered:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So may our Country's name be undisgraced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So may'st thou prosper where thy youth was reared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By every honest joy of Love and Life endeared!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For thee, who thus in too protracted song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hast soothed thine Idlesse with inglorious lays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soon shall thy voice be lost amid the throng<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of louder Minstrels in these later days:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To such resign the strife for fading Bays—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ill may such contest now the spirit move<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which heeds nor keen Reproach nor partial Praise,<a name="FNanchor_GC" id="FNanchor_GC"></a><a href="#Footnote_GC" class="fnanchor">[gc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since cold each kinder heart that might approve—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And none are left to please when none are left to love.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XCV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou too art gone, thou loved and lovely one!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whom Youth and Youth's affections bound to me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who did for me what none beside have done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What is my Being! thou hast ceased to be!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would they had never been, or were to come!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Would he had ne'er returned to find fresh cause to roam!<a name="FNanchor_GD" id="FNanchor_GD"></a><a href="#Footnote_GD" class="fnanchor">[gd]</a><a name="FNanchor_200" id="FNanchor_200"></a><a href="#Footnote_200" class="fnanchor">[200]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And clings to thoughts now better far removed!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Time shall tear thy shadow from me last.<a name="FNanchor_GE" id="FNanchor_GE"></a><a href="#Footnote_GE" class="fnanchor">[ge]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">All thou couldst have of mine, stern Death! thou hast;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Parent, Friend, and now the more than Friend:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,<a name="FNanchor_201" id="FNanchor_201"></a><a href="#Footnote_201" class="fnanchor">[201]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And grief with grief continuing still to blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath snatched the little joy that Life had yet to lend.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span>XCVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then must I plunge again into the crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And follow all that Peace disdains to seek?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly loud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">False to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To leave the flagging spirit doubly weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still o'er the features, which perforce they cheer,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To feign the pleasure or conceal the pique:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiles form the channel of a future tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or raise the writhing lip with ill-dissembled sneer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is the worst of woes that wait on Age?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To view each loved one blotted from Life's page,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be alone on earth, as I am now.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before the Chastener humbly let me bow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er Hearts divided and o'er Hopes destroyed:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roll on, vain days! full reckless may ye flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoyed,<a name="FNanchor_GF" id="FNanchor_GF"></a><a href="#Footnote_GF" class="fnanchor">[gf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloyed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>[<span class="smcap">Note</span>.—The MS. closes with stanza xcii. Stanzas xciii.-xcviii. were +added after <i>Childe Harold</i> was in the press. Byron sent them to Dallas, +October 11, 1811, and, apparently, on the same day composed the <i>Epistle +to a Friend</i> (F. Hodgson) <i>in answer to some lines exhorting the Author +to be cheerful, and to "Banish Care,"</i> and the first poem <i>To Thyrza</i> +("Without a stone to mark the Spot"). "I have sent," he writes, "two or +three additional stanzas for both '<i>Fyttes</i>.' I have been again shocked +with a <i>death</i>, and have lost one very dear to me in happier times; but +'I have almost forgot the taste of grief,' and 'supped full of horrors' +till I have become callous, nor have I a tear left for an event which, +five years ago, would have bowed down my head to the earth. It seems as +though I were to experience in my youth the greatest misery of age. My +friends fall around me, and I shall be left a lonely tree before I am +withered." In one respect he would no longer disclaim identity with +Childe Harold. "Death had deprived him of his nearest connections." He +had seen his friends "around him fall like leaves in wintry weather." He +felt "like one deserted;" and in the "dusky shadow" of that early +desolation he was destined to walk till his life's end. It is not +without cause when "a man of great spirit grows melancholy."</p> + +<p>In connection with this subject, it may be noted that lines 6 and 7 of +stanza xcv. do not bear out Byron's contention to Dallas (<i>Letters</i>, +October 14 and 31, 1811), that in these three <i>in memoriam</i> stanzas +(ix., xcv., xcvi.) he is bewailing an event which took place <i>after</i> he +returned to Newstead. The "more than friend" had "ceased to be" before +the "wanderer" returned. It is evident that Byron did not take Dallas +into his confidence.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_113" id="Footnote_113"></a><a href="#FNanchor_113"><span class="label">[113]</span></a> <a id="Note_99" name="Note_99">{99}</a> [Stanzas i.-xv. form a kind of dramatic prologue to +the Second Canto of the Pilgrimage. The general meaning is clear enough, +but the unities are disregarded. The scene shifts more than once, and +there is a moral within a moral. The poet begins by invoking Athena +(Byron wrote Athenæ) to look down on the ruins of "her holy and +beautiful house," and bewails her unreturning heroes of the sword and +pen. He then summons an Oriental, a "Son of the Morning," Moslem or +"light Greek," possibly a <i>Canis venaticus</i>, the discoverer or vendor of +a sepulchral urn, and, with an adjuration to spare the sacred relic, +points to the Acropolis, the cemetery of dead divinities, and then once +more to the urn at his feet. "'Vanity of vanities—all is vanity!' Gods +and men may come and go, but Death 'goes on for ever.'" The scene +changes, and he feigns to be present at the rifling of a barrow, the +"tomb of the Athenian heroes" on the plain of Marathon, or one of the +lonely tumuli on Sigeum and Rhoeteum, "the great and goodly tombs" of +Achilles and Patroclus ("they twain in one golden urn"); of Antilochus, +and of Telamonian Ajax. Marathon he had already visited, and marked "the +perpendicular cut" which at Fauvel's instigation had been recently +driven into the large barrow; and he had, perhaps, read of the real or +pretended excavation by Signor Ghormezano (1787) of a tumulus at the +Sigean promontory. The "mind's eye," which had conjured up "the +shattered heaps," images a skull of one who "kept the world in awe," +and, after moralizing in Hamlet's vein on the humorous catastrophe of +decay, the poet concludes with the Preacher "that there is no work, nor +device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave." After this profession +of unfaith, before he returns to Harold and his pilgrimage, he takes up +his parable and curses Elgin and all his works. The passage as a whole +suggests the essential difference between painting and poetry. As a +composition, it recalls the frontispiece of a seventeenth-century +classic. The pictured scene, with its superfluity of accessories, is +grotesque enough; but the poetic scenery, inconsequent and yet vivid as +a dream, awakens, and fulfills the imagination. (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, +by Lord Broughton, 1858, i. 380; ii. 128, 129, 138; <i>The Odyssey</i>, xxiv. +74, <i>sq</i>. See, too, Byron's letters to his mother, April 17, and to H. +Drury, May 3, 1810: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 262.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DO" id="Footnote_DO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DO"><span class="label">[do]</span></a> <a id="Note_100" name="Note_100">{100}</a> <i>Ancient of days! august Athenæ! where</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DP" id="Footnote_DP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DP"><span class="label">[dp]</span></a> <i>Gone—mingled with the waste</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_114" id="Footnote_114"></a><a href="#FNanchor_114"><span class="label">[114]</span></a> <a id="Note_101" name="Note_101">{101}</a> ["Stole," apart from its restricted use as an +ecclesiastical vestment, is used by Spenser and other poets as an +equivalent for any long and loosely flowing robe, but is, perhaps +inaccurately, applied to the short cloak (<i>tribon</i>), the "habit" of +Socrates when he lived, and, after his death, the distinctive dress of +the cynics.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DQ" id="Footnote_DQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DQ"><span class="label">[dq]</span></a> ——<i>gray flits the Ghost of Power</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DR" id="Footnote_DR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DR"><span class="label">[dr]</span></a> ——<i>whose altars cease to burn</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DS" id="Footnote_DS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DS"><span class="label">[ds]</span></a> ——<i>whose Faith is built on reeds</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_115" id="Footnote_115"></a><a href="#FNanchor_115"><span class="label">[115]</span></a> <a id="Note_102" name="Note_102">{102}</a> [Compare Shakespeare, <i>Measure for Measure</i>, act +iii, sc. 1, lines 5-7— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">"Reason thus with life:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That none but fools would keep."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DT" id="Footnote_DT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DT"><span class="label">[dt]</span></a> <i>Still wilt thou harp</i>——.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DU" id="Footnote_DU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DU"><span class="label">[du]</span></a> <i>Though 'twas a God, as graver records tell</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_116" id="Footnote_116"></a><a href="#FNanchor_116"><span class="label">[116]</span></a> [The demigods Erechtheus and Theseus "appeared" at +Marathon, and fought side by side with Miltiades (Grote's <i>History of +Greece</i>, iv. 284).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_117" id="Footnote_117"></a><a href="#FNanchor_117"><span class="label">[117]</span></a> <a id="Note_103" name="Note_103">{103}</a> [Compare Shakespeare, <i>Hamlet</i>, act v. sc. 1, +<i>passim</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_118" id="Footnote_118"></a><a href="#FNanchor_118"><span class="label">[118]</span></a> [Socrates affirmed that true self-knowledge was to know +that we know nothing, and in his own case he denied any other knowledge; +but "this confession of ignorance was certainly not meant to be a +sceptical denial of all knowledge." "The idea of knowledge was to him a +boundless field, in the face of which he could not but be ignorant" +(<i>Socrates and the Socratic Schools</i>, by Dr. E. Zeller, London, 1868, p. +102).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_119" id="Footnote_119"></a><a href="#FNanchor_119"><span class="label">[119]</span></a> [Stanzas viii. and ix. are not in the MS. +</p><p> +The expunged lines (see <a href="#Footnote_DV"><i>var.</i> i.</a>) carried the Lucretian tenets of the +preceding stanza to their logical conclusion. The end is silence, not a +reunion with superior souls. But Dallas objected; and it may well be +that, in the presence of death, Byron could not "guard his unbelief," or +refrain from a renewed questioning of the "Grand Perhaps." Stanza for +stanza, the new version is an improvement on the original. (See +<i>Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron</i>, 1824, p. 169. See, too, +letters to Hodgson, September 3 and September 13, 1811: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, +ii. 18, 34.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DV" id="Footnote_DV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DV"><span class="label">[dv]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Frown not upon me, churlish Priest! that I</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Look not for Life, where life may never be:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>I am no sneerer at thy phantasy;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Thou pitiest me, alas! I envy thee,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Thou bold Discoverer in an unknown sea</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Of happy Isles and happier Tenants there;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>I ask thee not to prove a Sadducee;</i>[*]<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Still dream of Paradise, thou know'st not where,</i>[**]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Which if it be thy sins will never let thee share</i>.[***]<br /></span> +<span class="i24">—[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +[*]The Sadducees did not believe in the Resurrection.—[MS. D.] +</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[**]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But look upon a scene that once was fair</i>.—[Erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Zion's holy hill which thou wouldst fancy fair</i>.—[Erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">[***]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As those, which thou delight'st to rear in upper air</i>.—[Erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet lovs't too well to bid thine erring brother share</i>.—[D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_120" id="Footnote_120"></a><a href="#FNanchor_120"><span class="label">[120]</span></a> <a id="Note_104" name="Note_104">{104}</a> [Byron forwarded this stanza in a letter to Dallas, +dated October 14, 1811, and was careful to add, "I think it proper to +state to you, that this stanza alludes to an event which has taken place +since my arrival here, and not to the death of any <i>male</i> friend" +(<i>Letters</i>. 1898, ii. 57). The reference is not to Edleston, as Dallas +might have guessed, and as Wright (see <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1891, p. 17) +believed. Again, in a letter to Dallas, dated October 31, 1811 (<i>ibid</i>., +ii. 65), he sends "a few stanzas," presumably the lines "To Thyrza," +which are dated October 31, 1811, and says that "they refer to the death +of one to whose name you are a <i>stranger</i>, and, consequently, cannot be +interested (<i>sic</i>) ... They relate to the same person whom I have +mentioned in Canto 2nd, and at the conclusion of the poem." It follows +from this second statement that we have Byron's authority for connecting +stanza ix. with stanzas xcv., xcvi., and, inferentially, his authority +for connecting stanzas ix., xcv., xcvi. with the group of "Thyrza" +poems. And there our knowledge ends. We must leave the mystery where +Byron willed that it should be left. "All that we know is, nothing can +be known."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DW" id="Footnote_DW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DW"><span class="label">[dw]</span></a> <a id="Note_105" name="Note_105">{105}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"> +<span class="uc" style="margin-right:0.5em;"><i>Whate'er beside</i></span><span class="bb">}</span> +<span class="dc" style="margin-left:-8em;margin-right:2em;"><i>Howe'er may be</i></span> +<i>Futurity's behest</i>.[*]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Or seeing thee no more to sink in sullen rest</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +[*][See letter to Dallas, October 14, 1811.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_121" id="Footnote_121"></a><a href="#FNanchor_121"><span class="label">[121]</span></a> <a id="Note_106" name="Note_106">{106}</a> [For note on the "Elgin Marbles," see <i>Introduction +to the Curse of Minerva: Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 453-456.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DX" id="Footnote_DX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DX"><span class="label">[dx]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>The last, the worst dull Robber, who was he?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Blush Scotland such a slave thy son could be</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>England! I joy no child he was of thine:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Thy freeborn men revere what once was free,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Nor tear the Sculpture from its saddening shrine,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Nor bear the spoil away athwart the weeping Brine</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DY" id="Footnote_DY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DY"><span class="label">[dy]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>This be the wittol Picts ignoble boast</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To rive what Goth and Turk, and Time hath spared:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Cold and accursed as his native coast</i>.—[MS. D. erased]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_122" id="Footnote_122"></a><a href="#FNanchor_122"><span class="label">[122]</span></a> ["On the plaster wall of the Chapel of Pandrosos +adjoining the Erechtheum, these words have been very deeply cut— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Quod non fecerunt Goti,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hoc fecerunt Scoti'"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +(<i>Travels in Albania</i>, 1858, i. 299). M. Darmesteter quotes the +original: "mot sur les Barberini" ("Quod non fecere Barbari, Fecere +Barberini"). It may be added that Scotchmen are named among the +volunteers who joined the Hanoverian mercenaries in the Venetian +invasion of Greece in 1686. (See <i>The Curse of Minerva: Poetical Works</i>, +1898, i. 463, note 1; Finlay's <i>Hist. of Greece</i>, v. 189.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_DZ" id="Footnote_DZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_DZ"><span class="label">[dz]</span></a> <a id="Note_107" name="Note_107">{107}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Albion was happy while Athenæ mourned?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Though in thy name the slave her bosom wrung,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Albion! I would not see thee thus adorned</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With gains thy generous spirit should have scorned,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>From Man distinguished by some monstrous sign,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Like Attila the Hun was surely horned,</i><a href="#dz_A">[A]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who wrought the ravage amid works divine:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Oh that Minerva's voice lent its keen aid to mine</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>What! shall it e'er be said by British tongue</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Albion was happy in Athenæ's tears?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Though in thy name the slave her bosom wrung</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Let it not vibrate in pale Europe's ears</i>,<a href="#dz_B">[B]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The Saviour Queen, the free Britannia, wears</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The last poor blunder of a bleeding land:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That she, whose generous aid her name endears</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Which Envious Eld forbore and Tyrants left to stand</i>.—[MS. D.]<a href="#dz_C">[C]</a><br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<a id="dz_A">[A]</a> Attila was horned, if we may trust contemporary legends, and the +etchings of his visage in Lavater.—[M.S.] +</p><p> +<a id="dz_B">[B]</a> Lines 5-9 in the Dallas transcript are in Byron's handwriting. +</p><p> +<a id="dz_C">[C]</a> <i>Which centuries forgot</i>——.—[D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EA" id="Footnote_EA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EA"><span class="label">[ea]</span></a> <a id="Note_108" name="Note_108">{108}</a> After stanza xiii. the MS. inserts the two following +stanzas:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Come then, ye classic Thieves of each degree</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Dark Hamilton</i><a href="#ea_A">[A]</a> <i>and sullen Aberdeen</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Come pilfer all the Pilgrim loves to see</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>All that yet consecrates the fading scene:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Ah! better were it ye had never been</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Nor ye, nor Elgin, nor that lesser wight</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The victim sad of vase-collecting spleen</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>House-furnisher withal, one Thomas</i><a href="#ea_B">[B]</a> <i>hight</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Than ye should bear one stone from wronged Athenæ's site</i>.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Or will the gentle Dilettanti crew</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Now delegate the task to digging Gell</i>,<a href="#ea_C">[C]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That mighty limner of a bird's eye view</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>How like to Nature let his volumes tell:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who can with him the folio's limit swell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With all the Author saw, or said he saw?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who can topographize or delve so well?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>No boaster he, nor impudent and raw</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>His pencil, pen, and spade, alike without a flaw</i>.—[D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<a id="ea_A">[A]</a> [William Richard Hamilton (1777-1859) was the son of Anthony +Hamilton, Archdeacon of Colchester, etc., and grandson of Richard +Terrick, Bishop of London. In 1799, when Lord Elgin was appointed +Ambassador to the Sublime Porte, Hamilton accompanied him as private +secretary. After the battle of Ramassieh (Alexandria, March 20, 1801), +and the subsequent evacuation of Egypt by the French (August 30, 1801), +Hamilton, who had been sent on a diplomatic mission, was successful in +recapturing the Rosetta Stone, which, in violation of a specified +agreement, had been placed on board a French man-of-war. He was +afterwards employed by Elgin as agent plenipotentiary in the purchase, +removal, and deportation of marbles. He held office (1809-22) as +Under-Secretary for Foreign Affairs, and as Minister at the Court of +Naples (1822-25). From 1838 to 1858 he was a Trustee of the British +Museum. He published, in 1809, <i>Ægyptiaca, or Some Account of the +Ancient and Modern State of Egypt</i>; and, in 1811, his <i>Memorandum on the +Subject of the Earl of Elgin's Pursuits in Greece</i>. (For Hamilton, see +<i>English Bards</i>, etc., line 509; <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 336, note +2.)] +</p><p> +<a id="ea_B">[B]</a> Thomas Hope, Esqr., if I mistake not, the man who publishes quartos +on furniture and costume. +</p><p> +[Thomas Hope (1770-1831) (see <i>Hints from Horace</i>, line 7: <i>Poetical +Works</i>, 1898, i. 390, note 1) published, in 1805, a folio volume +entitled, <i>Household Furniture and Internal Decoration</i>. It was severely +handled in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> (No. xx.) for July, 1807.] +</p><p> +<a id="ea_C">[C]</a> It is rumoured Gell is coming out to dig in Olympia. I wish him +more success than he had at Athens. According to Lusieri's account, he +began digging most furiously without a firmann, but before the +resurrection of a single sauce-pan, the Painter countermined and the +Way-wode countermanded and sent him back to bookmaking.—[MS. D.] +</p><p> +[See <i>English Bards, etc.</i>, lines 1033, 1034: <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. +379, <i>note</i> 1.] </p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EB" id="Footnote_EB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EB"><span class="label">[eb]</span></a> <i>Where was thine Ægis, Goddess</i>——.—[MS. D. erased]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EC" id="Footnote_EC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EC"><span class="label">[ec]</span></a> <a id="Note_110" name="Note_110">{110}</a> ——<i>which it had well behoved</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_123" id="Footnote_123"></a><a href="#FNanchor_123"><span class="label">[123]</span></a> [The Athenians believed, or feigned to believe, that the +marbles themselves shrieked out in shame and agony at their removal from +their ancient shrines.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_124" id="Footnote_124"></a><a href="#FNanchor_124"><span class="label">[124]</span></a> [Byron is speaking of his departure from Spain, but he is +thinking of his departure from Malta, and his half-hearted amour with +Mrs. Spencer Smith.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ED" id="Footnote_ED"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ED"><span class="label">[ed]</span></a> <a id="Note_111" name="Note_111">{111}</a> ——<i>that rosy urchin guides</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EE" id="Footnote_EE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EE"><span class="label">[ee]</span></a> <i>Save on that part</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EF" id="Footnote_EF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EF"><span class="label">[ef]</span></a> <a id="Note_112" name="Note_112">{112}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>From Discipline's stern law</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i3">——<i>keen law</i>——.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_125" id="Footnote_125"></a><a href="#FNanchor_125"><span class="label">[125]</span></a> An additional "misery to human life!"—lying to at sunset +for a large convoy, till the sternmost pass ahead. Mem.: fine frigate, +fair wind likely to change before morning, but enough at present for ten +knots!—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EG" id="Footnote_EG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EG"><span class="label">[eg]</span></a> ——<i>their melting girls believe</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EH" id="Footnote_EH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EH"><span class="label">[eh]</span></a> <a id="Note_113" name="Note_113">{113}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Meantime some rude musician's restless hand</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Ply's the brisk instrument that sailors love</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EI" id="Footnote_EI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EI"><span class="label">[ei]</span></a> <i>Through well-known straits behold the steepy +shore</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_126" id="Footnote_126"></a><a href="#FNanchor_126"><span class="label">[126]</span></a> [Compare Coleridge's reflections, in his diary for April +19, 1804, on entering the Straits of Gibraltar: "When I first sat down, +with Europe on my left and Africa on my right, both distinctly visible, +I felt a quickening of the movements in the blood, but still felt it as +a pleasure of <i>amusement</i> rather than of thought and elevation; and at +the same time, and gradually winning on the other, the nameless silent +forms of nature were working in me, like a tender thought in a man who +is hailed merrily by some acquaintance in his work, and answers it in +the same tone" (<i>Anima Poetæ</i>, 1895, pp. 70, 71).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_127" id="Footnote_127"></a><a href="#FNanchor_127"><span class="label">[127]</span></a> ["The moon is in the southern sky as the vessel passes +through the Straits; consequently, the coast of Spain is in light, that +of Africa in shadow" (<i>Childe Harold</i>, edited by H. F. Tozer, 1885, p. +232).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_128" id="Footnote_128"></a><a href="#FNanchor_128"><span class="label">[128]</span></a> [Campbell, in <i>Gertrude of Wyoming</i>, Canto I. stanza ii. +line 6, speaks of "forests brown;" but, as Mr. Tozer points out, +"'brown' is Byron's usual epithet for landscape seen in moonlight." +(Compare Canto II. stanza lxx. line 3; <i>Parisina</i>, i. 10; and <i>Siege of +Corinth</i>, ii. 1.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EJ" id="Footnote_EJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EJ"><span class="label">[ej]</span></a> <a id="Note_114" name="Note_114">{114}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>Bleeds the lone heart, once boundless in its zeal</i>.—[D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>And friendless now, yet dreams it had a friend</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>Far from affection's chilled or changing zeal</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>Divided far by fortune, wave or steel</i><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>Though friendless now we once have had a friend</i>.—<br /></span> +<span class="i40">[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EK" id="Footnote_EK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EK"><span class="label">[ek]</span></a> <i>Ah! happy years! I would I were once more a boy</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EL" id="Footnote_EL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EL"><span class="label">[el]</span></a> <i>To gaze on Dian's wan reflected sphere</i>.—[MS. D]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EM" id="Footnote_EM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EM"><span class="label">[em]</span></a> ——<i>her dreams of hope and pride</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EN" id="Footnote_EN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EN"><span class="label">[en]</span></a> +<a id="Note_115" name="Note_115">{115}</a> <i>None are so wretched</i>[*] <i>but that</i>——.—[MS.D.] +</p><p> +[*] "Desolate."—[MS. pencil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EO" id="Footnote_EO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EO"><span class="label">[eo]</span></a> <i>T.t.b.</i> [tres tres bien], <i>but why insert here</i>.—[MS. +pencil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_129" id="Footnote_129"></a><a href="#FNanchor_129"><span class="label">[129]</span></a> [In this stanza M. Darmesteter detects "l'accent +Wordsworthien" prior to any "doses" as prescribed by Shelley, and quotes +as a possible model the following lines from Beattie's <i>Minstrel</i>:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When all in mist the world below was lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And view th' enormous waste of vapour, tost<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In billows, lengthening to th' horizon round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hear the voice of mirth, and song rebound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +In felicity of expression, the copy, if it be a copy, surpasses the +original; but in the scope and originality of the image, it is vastly +inferior. Nor are these lines, with the possible exception of line +3—"Where things that own not Man's dominion dwell," at all +Wordsworthian. They fail in that imaginative precision which the Lake +poets regarded as essential, and they lack the glamour and passion +without which their canons of art would have profited nothing. Six years +later, when Byron came within sound of Wordsworth's voice, he struck a +new chord—a response, not an echo. Here the motive is rhetorical, not +immediately poetical.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EP" id="Footnote_EP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EP"><span class="label">[ep]</span></a> <a id="Note_116" name="Note_116">{116}</a> ——<i>and foaming linns to lean</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_130" id="Footnote_130"></a><a href="#FNanchor_130"><span class="label">[130]</span></a> [There are none to bless us, for when we are in distress +the great, the rich, the gay, shrink from us; and when we are popular +and prosperous those who court us care nothing for us apart from our +success. Neither do they bless us, or we them.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EQ" id="Footnote_EQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EQ"><span class="label">[eq]</span></a> <i>This is to live alone—This, This is solitude</i>.—[MS. +D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_131" id="Footnote_131"></a><a href="#FNanchor_131"><span class="label">[131]</span></a> [The MS. of stanza xxvii. is on the fly-leaf of a bound +volume of proof-sheets entitled "Additions to Childe Harold," It was +first published in the seventh edition, 1814. It may be taken for +granted that Byron had seen what he describes. There is, however, no +record of any visit to Mount Athos, either in his letters from the East +or in Hobhouse's journals. +</p><p> +The actual mount, "the giant height [6350 feet], rears itself in +solitary magnificence, an insulated cone of white limestone." "When it +is seen from a distance, the peninsula [of which the southern portion +rises to a height of 2000 feet] is below the horizon, and the peak rises +quite solitary from the sea." Of this effect Byron may have had actual +experience; but Hobhouse, in describing the prospect from Cape +Janissary, is careful to record that "Athos itself is said to be +sometimes visible in the utmost distance (circ. 90 miles), but it was +not discernible during our stay on the spot." (Murray's <i>Handbook for +Greece</i>, p. 843; <i>Childe Harold</i>, edited by H. F. Tozer, p. 233; +<i>Travels in Albania</i>, 1858, ii. 103. Compare, too, the fragment entitled +the <i>Monk of Athos</i>, first published in the Hon. Roden Noel's <i>Life of +Lord Byron</i>, 1890.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_132" id="Footnote_132"></a><a href="#FNanchor_132"><span class="label">[132]</span></a> <a id="Note_118" name="Note_118">{118}</a> ["Le sage Mentor, poussant Télémaque, qui était +assis sur le bord du rocher, le précipite dans le mer et s'y jette avec +lui.... Calypso inconsolable, rentra dans sa grotte, qu'elle remplit de +ses hurlements."—Fénelon's <i>Télémaque</i>, vi., Paris, 1837. iii. 43.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_133" id="Footnote_133"></a><a href="#FNanchor_133"><span class="label">[133]</span></a> [For Mrs. Spencer Smith, see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 244, +245, note. Moore (<i>Life</i>, pp. 94, 95) contrasts stanzas xxx.-xxxv., with +their parade of secret indifference and plea of "a loveless heart," with +the tenderness and warmth of his after-thoughts in Albania ("Lines +composed during a Thunderstorm," etc.), and decides the coldness was +real, the sentiment assumed. He forgets the flight of time. The lines +were written in October, 1809, within a month of his departure from +"Calypso's isles," and the <i>Childe Harold</i> stanzas belong to the early +spring of 1810. "Ou sont les neiges d'antan?" Moreover, he speaks by the +card. Writing at Athens, January 16, 1810, he tells us, "The spell is +broke, the charm is flown."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_134" id="Footnote_134"></a><a href="#FNanchor_134"><span class="label">[134]</span></a> <a id="Note_120" name="Note_120">{120}</a> [More than one commentator gravely "sets against" +this line—Byron's statement to Dallas (<i>Corr. of Lord Byron</i>, Paris, +1824, iii. 91), "I am not a Joseph or a Scipio; but I can safely affirm +that never in my life I seduced any woman." Compare <i>Memoirs of Count +Carlo Gozzi</i>, 1890, ii. 12, "Never have I employed the iniquitous art of +seduction ... Languishing in soft and thrilling sentiments, I demanded +from a woman a sympathy and inclination of like nature with my own. If +she fell ... I should have remembered how she made for me the greatest +of all sacrifices.... I should have worshipped her like a deity. I could +have spent my life's blood in consoling her; and without swearing +eternal constancy, I should have been most stable on my side in loving +such a mistress."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ER" id="Footnote_ER"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ER"><span class="label">[er]</span></a> <a id="Note_121" name="Note_121">{121}</a> <i>Brisk Impudence</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ES" id="Footnote_ES"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ES"><span class="label">[es]</span></a> <i>Youth wasted, wretches born</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_135" id="Footnote_135"></a><a href="#FNanchor_135"><span class="label">[135]</span></a> +[Compare Lucretius, iv. 1121-4— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Adde quod absumunt viris pereuntque labore,<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">Labitur interea res, et Babylonica fiunt:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Languent officia, atque ægrotat fama vacillans."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ET" id="Footnote_ET"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ET"><span class="label">[et]</span></a> +<a id="Note_122" name="Note_122">{122}</a> <i>Climes strange withal as ever mortal head</i>.—[MS.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EU" id="Footnote_EU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EU"><span class="label">[eu]</span></a> +<i>Suspected in its little pride of thought</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_136" id="Footnote_136"></a><a href="#FNanchor_136"><span class="label">[136]</span></a> ["Were counselled or advised." The passive "were ared" +seems to lack authority. (See <i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Aread.")]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EV" id="Footnote_EV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EV"><span class="label">[ev]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>Her not unconscious though her weakly child</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, ——<i>her rudest child</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_137" id="Footnote_137"></a><a href="#FNanchor_137"><span class="label">[137]</span></a> +[Compare the description of the thunderstorm in the Alps +(Canto III. stanzas xcii.-xcvi., pp. 273-275); and <i>Manfred</i>, act ii. +sc. 2— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My joy was in the wilderness; to breathe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The difficult air of the iced mountain-top—<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">In them my early strength exulted; or<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To follow through the night the moving moon,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The stars and their development; or catch<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Beattie, who describes the experiences of his own boyhood in the person +of Edwin in <i>The Minstrel</i>, had already made a like protestation— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In sooth he was a strange and wayward youth.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In darkness and in storm he found delight;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not less than when on ocean-wave serene<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Southern sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even sad vicissitude amus'd his soul."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Kirke White, too, who was almost Byron's contemporary, and whose verses +he professed to admire— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">"Would run a visionary boy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky."<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +This love of Nature in her wilder aspects, which was perfectly genuine, +and, indeed, meritorious, was felt to be out of the common, a note of +the poetic temperament, worth recording, but unlikely to pass without +questioning and remonstrance.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_138" id="Footnote_138"></a><a href="#FNanchor_138"><span class="label">[138]</span></a> <a id="Note_123" name="Note_123">{123}</a> [Alexander's mother, Olympias, was an Epiriote. She +had a place in the original draft of Tennyson's <i>Palace of Art</i> (<i>Life +of Lord Tennyson</i>,. 119)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"One was Olympias; the floating snake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roll'd round her ankles, round her waist<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knotted," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Plutarch (<i>Vitæ</i>, Lipsiæ:, 1814, vi. 170) is responsible for the legend: +<span title="Ô)\phthê de/ pote kai\ dra/kôn koimôme/nês tê~s +O)lympia/dou parektetame/ns tô~| sô/mati">Ὢφθη +δέ ποτε καὶ +δράκων κοιμωμένης +τῆς Ὀλυμπιάδου +παρεκτεταμένς τῷ +σώματι</span>, "Now, one day, when Olympias +lay abed, beside her body a dragon was espied stretched out at full +length." (Compare, too, Dryden's <i>Alexander's Feast</i>, stanza ii.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_139" id="Footnote_139"></a><a href="#FNanchor_139"><span class="label">[139]</span></a> [Mr. Tozer (<i>Childe Harold</i>, p. 236) takes this line to +mean "whom the young love to talk of, and the wise to follow as an +example," and points to Alexander's foresight as a conqueror, and the +"extension of commerce and civilization" which followed his victories. +But, surely, the antithesis lies between Alexander the ideal of the +young, and Alexander the deterrent example of the old. The phrase, +"beacon of the wise," if Hector in <i>Troilus and Cressida</i> (act ii. sc. +2, line 16) is an authority, is proverbial. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i7">" ... The wound of peace is surety,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beacon of the wise, the tent that searches<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To the bottom of the worst."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The beauty, the brilliance, the glory of Alexander kindle the enthusiasm +of the young; but the murder of Clytus and the early death which he +brought upon himself are held up by the wise as beacon-lights to save +others from shipwreck.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_140" id="Footnote_140"></a><a href="#FNanchor_140"><span class="label">[140]</span></a> [Byron and Hobhouse sailed for Malta in the brig-of-war +<i>Spider</i> on Tuesday, September 19, 1809 (Byron, in a letter to his +mother, November 12, says September 21), and anchored off Patras on the +night of Sunday, the 24th. On Tuesday, the 26th, they were under way at +12 noon, and on the evening of that day they saw the sun set over +Mesalonghi. The next morning, September 27, they were in the channel +between Ithaca and the mainland, with Ithaca, then in the hands of the +French, to the left. "We were close to it," says Hobhouse, "and saw a +few shrubs on a brown heathy land, two little towns in the hills +scattered among trees." The travellers made "but little progress this +day," and, apparently, having redoubled Cape St. Andreas, the southern +extremity of Ithaca, they sailed (September 28) through the channel +between Ithaca and Cephalonia, passed the hill of Ætos, on which stood +the so-called "Castle of Ulysses," whence Penelope may have "overlooked +the wave," and caught sight of "the Lover's refuge" in the distance. +Towards the close of the same day they doubled Cape Ducato ("Leucadia's +cape," the scene of Sappho's leap), and, sailing under "the ancient +mount," the site of the Temple of Apollo, anchored off Prevesa at seven +in the evening. Poetry and prose are not always in accord. If, as Byron +says, it was "an autumn's eve" when they hailed "Leucadia's cape afar," +if the evening star shone over the rock when they approached it, they +must have sailed fast to reach Prevesa, some thirty miles to the north, +by seven o'clock. But <i>de minimis</i>, the Muse is as disregardful as the +Law. And, perhaps, after all, it was Hobhouse who misread his log-book. +(<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 4, 5; Murray's <i>Handbook for Greece</i>, pp. +40, 46.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_141" id="Footnote_141"></a><a href="#FNanchor_141"><span class="label">[141]</span></a> <a id="Note_125" name="Note_125">{125}</a> [The meaning of this passage is not quite so +obvious as it seems. He has in his mind the words, "He saved others, +Himself He cannot save," and, applying this to Sappho, asks, "Why did +she who conferred immortality on herself by her verse prove herself +mortal?" Without Fame, and without verse the cause and keeper of Fame, +there is no heaven, no immortality, for the sons of men. But what +security is there for the eternity of verse and Fame? "<i>Quis custodiet +custodes</i>?"]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_142" id="Footnote_142"></a><a href="#FNanchor_142"><span class="label">[142]</span></a> <a id="Note_126" name="Note_126">{126}</a> [For Byron's "star" similes, see Canto III. stanza +xxxviii. line 9.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EW" id="Footnote_EW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EW"><span class="label">[ew]</span></a> ——<i>and looked askance on Mars</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_143" id="Footnote_143"></a><a href="#FNanchor_143"><span class="label">[143]</span></a> +[Compare the line in Tennyson's song, <i>Break, break, +break,</i> "And the stately ships go on."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EX" id="Footnote_EX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EX"><span class="label">[ex]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And roused him more from thought than he was wont</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>While Pleasure almost seemed to smooth his pallid front</i>.—[MS. D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>While Pleasure almost smiled along</i>——.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_144" id="Footnote_144"></a><a href="#FNanchor_144"><span class="label">[144]</span></a> +[By "Suli's rocks" Byron means the mountainous district +in the south of the Epirus. The district of Suli formed itself into a +small republic at the close of the last century, and offered a +formidable resistance to Ali Pacha. "Pindus' inland peak," Monte +Metsovo, which forms part of the ridge which divides Epirus from +Thessaly, is not visible from the sea-coast.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_145" id="Footnote_145"></a><a href="#FNanchor_145"><span class="label">[145]</span></a> <a id="Note_127" name="Note_127">{127}</a> +["Shore unknown." (See <a href="#en_II_11">Byron's note</a> to stanza +xxxviii. line 5.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EY" id="Footnote_EY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EY"><span class="label">[ey]</span></a> <a id="Note_128" name="Note_128">{128}</a> ——<i>lovely harmful thing</i>.—[MS. pencil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_146" id="Footnote_146"></a><a href="#FNanchor_146"><span class="label">[146]</span></a> [Compare Byron's <i>Stanzas written on passing the +Ambracian Gulph</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_147" id="Footnote_147"></a><a href="#FNanchor_147"><span class="label">[147]</span></a> [Nicopolis, "the city of victory," which Augustus, "the +second Cæsar," built to commemorate Actium, is some five miles to the +north of Prevesa. Byron and Hobhouse visited the ruins on the 30th of +September, and again on the 12th of November (see Byron's letter to Mrs. +Byron. November 12, 1809: <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 251).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_EZ" id="Footnote_EZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_EZ"><span class="label">[ez]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Imperial wretches, doubling human woes!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>God!—was thy globe ere made</i>——.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_148" id="Footnote_148"></a><a href="#FNanchor_148"><span class="label">[148]</span></a> <a id="Note_129" name="Note_129">{129}</a> [The travellers left Prevesa on October 1, and +arrived at Janina on October 5. They left Janina on October 11, and +reached Zitza at nightfall (Byron at 3 a.m., October 12). They left +Zitza on October 13, and arrived at Tepeleni on October 19.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_149" id="Footnote_149"></a><a href="#FNanchor_149"><span class="label">[149]</span></a> [On the evening of October 11, as the party was +approaching Zitza, Hobhouse and the Albanian, Vasilly, rode on, leaving +"Lord Byron and the baggage behind." It was getting dark, and just as +the luckier Hobhouse contrived to make his way to the village, the rain +began to fall in torrents. Before long, "the thunder roared as it seemed +without any intermission; for the echoes of one peal had not ceased to +roll in the mountains before another crash burst over our heads." Byron, +dragoman, and baggage were not three miles from Zitza when the storm +began, and they lost their way. After many wanderings and adventures +they were finally conducted by ten men with pine torches to the hut; but +by that time it was three o'clock in the morning. Hence the "Stanzas +composed during a Thunderstorm."—Hobhouse's <i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. +69-71.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_150" id="Footnote_150"></a><a href="#FNanchor_150"><span class="label">[150]</span></a> <a id="Note_130" name="Note_130">{130}</a> ["The prior of the monastery, a humble, +meek-mannered man, entertained us in a warm chamber with grapes and a +pleasant white wine ...We were so well pleased with everything about us +that we agreed to lodge with him."—Hobhouse's <i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. +73.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FA" id="Footnote_FA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FA"><span class="label">[fa]</span></a> <i>Here winds, if winds there be, will fan his +breast</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FB" id="Footnote_FB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FB"><span class="label">[fb]</span></a> <i>Keep Heaven for better souls, my shade shall seek for +none</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FC" id="Footnote_FC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FC"><span class="label">[fc]</span></a> <a id="Note_132" name="Note_132">{132}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>But frequent is the lamb, the kid, the goat</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And watching pensive with his browsing flock</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FD" id="Footnote_FD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FD"><span class="label">[fd]</span></a> <i>Counting the hours beneath yon skies unerring +shock</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_151" id="Footnote_151"></a><a href="#FNanchor_151"><span class="label">[151]</span></a> [The site of Dodona, a spot "at the foot of Mount +Tomaros" (Mount Olytsika) in the valley of Tcharacovista, was finally +determined, in 1876, by excavations carried out, at his own expense, by +M. Constantin Carapanos, a native of Arta. In his monograph, <i>Dodone et +ses Ruines</i> (Paris, 1878, 4to), M. Carapanos gives a detailed +description of the theatre, the twofold Temenos (I. <i>L'Enceinte du +Temple</i>, II. <i>Téménos</i>, pp. 13-28), including the Temple of Zeus and a +sanctuary of Aphrodite, and of the numerous <i>ex voto</i> offerings and +inscriptions on lead which were brought to light during the excavations, +and helped to identify the ruins. An accompanying folio volume of plates +contains (Planches, i., ii.) a map of the valley of Tcharacovista, and a +lithograph of Mount Tomaros, "d'un aspect majestueux et pittoresque ... +un roc nu sillonné par le lit de nombreux torrents" (p. 8). Behind +Dodona, on the summit of the many-named chain of hills which confronts +Mount Tomaros, are "bouquets de chêne," sprung it may be from the +offspring of the +<span title="prosê/goroi dry/es">προσήγοροι +δρύες</span> +(Æsch., <i>Prom.</i>, 833), the "talking oaks," which declared the will of +Zeus. For the "prophetic fount" (line 2), Servius, commenting on Virgil, +<i>Æneid</i>, iii. 41-66, seems to be the authority: "Circa hoc templum +quercus immanis fuisse dicitur ex cujus radicibus fons manebat, qui suo +murmure instinctu Deorum diversis oracula reddebat" (<i>Virgilii Opera</i>, +Leovardiæ, 1717, i. 548). +</p><p> +Byron and Hobhouse, on one of their excursions from Janina, explored and +admired the ruins of the "amphitheatre," but knew not that "here and +nowhere else" was Dodona (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 53-56).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_152" id="Footnote_152"></a><a href="#FNanchor_152"><span class="label">[152]</span></a> <a id="Note_133" name="Note_133">{133}</a> [The sentiment that man, "whose breath is in his +nostrils," should consider the impermanence of all that is stable and +durable before he cries out upon his own mortality, may have been drawn +immediately from the famous letter of consolation sent by Sulpitius +Severus to Cicero, which Byron quotes in <a href="#Footnote_422">a note to Canto IV. stanza +xliv.</a>, or, in the first instance, from Tasso's <i>Gerusalemme Liberata</i>, +xv. 20— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Giace l'alta Cartago; appena i segni<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dell' alte sue ruini il lido serba.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Muojono le città; muojono i regni:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Copre i fasti, e le pompe, arena ed erba;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E l'uom d'esser mortal par cue si sdegni!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Compare, too, Addison's "Reflections in Westminster Abbey," <i>Spectator</i>, +No. 26.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_153" id="Footnote_153"></a><a href="#FNanchor_153"><span class="label">[153]</span></a> [The six days' journey from Zitza to Tepeleni is +compressed into a single stanza. The vale (line 3) may be that of the +Kalama, through which the travellers passed (October 13) soon after +leaving Zitza, or, more probably, the plain of Deropoli +("well-cultivated, divided by rails and low hedges, and having a river +flowing through it to the south"), which they crossed (October 15) on +their way from Delvinaki, the frontier village of Illyria, to +Libokhovo.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_154" id="Footnote_154"></a><a href="#FNanchor_154"><span class="label">[154]</span></a> <a id="Note_134" name="Note_134">{134}</a> ["Yclad," used as a preterite, not a participle +(compare Coleridge's "I wis" [<i>Christabel</i>, part i. line 92]), is a +Byronism—"archaisme incorrect," says M. Darmesteter.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_155" id="Footnote_155"></a><a href="#FNanchor_155"><span class="label">[155]</span></a> ["During the fast of the Ramazan, ... the gallery of each +minaret is decorated with a circlet of small lamps. When seen from a +distance, each minaret presents a point of light, 'like meteors in the +sky;' and in a large city, where they are numerous, they resemble a +swarm of fireflies."—H.F. Tozer. (Compare <i>The Giaour</i>, i. 449-452— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When Rhamazan's last sun was set,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And flashing from each minaret.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Millions of lamps proclaimed the feast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Bairam through the boundless East.")]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_156" id="Footnote_156"></a><a href="#FNanchor_156"><span class="label">[156]</span></a> <a id="Note_135" name="Note_135">{135}</a> ["A kind of dervish or recluse ... regarded as a +saint."—<i>Cent. Dict.</i>, art. "Santon."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FE" id="Footnote_FE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FE"><span class="label">[fe]</span></a> ——<i>guests and vassals wait</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FF" id="Footnote_FF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FF"><span class="label">[ff]</span></a> <i>While the deep Tocsin's sound</i>——.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_157" id="Footnote_157"></a><a href="#FNanchor_157"><span class="label">[157]</span></a> <a id="Note_136" name="Note_136">{136}</a> ["We were disturbed during the night by the +perpetual carousal which seemed to be kept up in the gallery, and by the +drum, and the voice of the 'muezzinn,' or chanter, calling the Turks to +prayers from the minaret of the mosck attached to the palace. This +chanter was a boy, and he sang out his hymn is a sort of loud melancholy +recitative. He was a long time repeating the Eraun. The first +exclamation was repeated four times, the remaining words twice; and the +long and piercing note in which he concluded his confession of faith, by +twice crying out the word 'hou!' ['At solemn sound of "Alla Hu!"' +<i>Giaour</i>, i. 734] still rings in my ears."—Hobhouse's <i>Travels in +Albania</i>, i. 95. D'Ohsonn gives the Eraun at full length: "Most high +God! [four times repeated]. I acknowledge that there is no other God +except God! I acknowledge that there is no other God except God! I +acknowledge that Mohammed is the prophet of God! Come to prayer! Come to +prayer! Come to the temple of salvation! Come to the temple of +salvation! Great God! great God! There is no God except God!"—<i>Oriental +Antiquities</i> (Philadelphia, 1788), p. 341.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_158" id="Footnote_158"></a><a href="#FNanchor_158"><span class="label">[158]</span></a> <a id="Note_137" name="Note_137">{137}</a> ["The Ramazan, or Turkish Lent, which, as it occurs +in each of the thirteen months in succession, fell this year in October +... Although during this month the strictest abstinence, even from +tobacco and coffee, is observed in the daytime, yet with the setting of +the sun the feasting commences."—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 66. "The +Ramadan or Rhamazan is the ninth month of the Mohammedan year. As the +Mohammedans reckon by lunar time, it begins each year eleven days +earlier than in the preceding year, so that in thirty-three years it +occurs successively in all the seasons."—<i>Imp. Dictionary</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_159" id="Footnote_159"></a><a href="#FNanchor_159"><span class="label">[159]</span></a> [The feast was spread within the courtyard, "in the part +farthest from the dwelling," and when the revelry began the "immense +large gallery" or corridor, which ran along the front of the palace and +was open on one side to the court, was deserted. "Opening into the +gallery were the doors of several apartments," and as the servants +passed in and out, the travellers standing in the courtyard could hear +the sound of voices.—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 93.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FG" id="Footnote_FG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FG"><span class="label">[fg]</span></a> <a id="Note_138" name="Note_138">{138}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>even for health to move</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>She saves for one</i>——.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FH" id="Footnote_FH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FH"><span class="label">[fh]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>For boyish minions of unhallowed love</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The shameless torch of wild desire is lit,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Caressed, preferred even to woman's self above</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Whose forms for Nature's gentler errors fit</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>All frailties mote excuse save that which they commit</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_160" id="Footnote_160"></a><a href="#FNanchor_160"><span class="label">[160]</span></a> [For an account of Ali Pasha (1741-1822), see <i>Letters</i>, +1898, i. 246, note.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_161" id="Footnote_161"></a><a href="#FNanchor_161"><span class="label">[161]</span></a> [In a letter to his mother, November 12, 1809, Byron +writes, "He [Ali] said he was certain I was a man of birth, because I +had small ears, curling hair, and little white hands. ... He told me to +consider him as a father whilst I was in Turkey, and said he looked on +me as his son. Indeed, he treated me like a child, sending me almonds +and sugared sherbet, fruit and sweetmeats, twenty times a day." Many +years after, in the first letter <i>On Bowles' Strictures</i>, February 7, +1821, he introduces a reminiscence of Ali: "I never judge from manners, +for I once had my pocket picked by the civillest gentleman I ever met +with; and one of the mildest persons I ever saw was Ali Pasha" (<i>Life</i>, +p. 689).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FI" id="Footnote_FI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FI"><span class="label">[fi]</span></a> +<a id="Note_139" name="Note_139">{139}</a> <i>Delights to mingle with the lips of youth</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_162" id="Footnote_162"></a><a href="#FNanchor_162"><span class="label">[162]</span></a> [Anacreon sometimes bewails, but more often defies old +age. (<i>Vide</i> Carmina liv., xi., xxxiv.) +</p><p> +The paraphrase "Teian Muse" recurs in the song, "The Isles of Greece," +<i>Don Juan</i>, Canto III.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FJ" id="Footnote_FJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FJ"><span class="label">[fj]</span></a> <i>But 'tis those ne'er forgotten acts of ruth</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_163" id="Footnote_163"></a><a href="#FNanchor_163"><span class="label">[163]</span></a> +[In the first edition the reading (see <a href="#Footnote_FJ"><i>var</i>. ii.</a>) is, +"But crimes, those ne'er forgotten crimes of ruth." The mistake was +pointed out in the <i>Quarterly Review</i> (March, 1812, No. 13, vol. vii. p. +193). +</p><p> +But in Spenser "ruth" means sorrow as well as pity, and three weeks +after <i>Childe Harold</i> was published, Ali committed a terrible crime, the +outcome of an early grief. On March 27, 1812, in revenge for wrongs done +to his mother and sister nearly thirty years before, he caused 670 +Gardhikiots to be massacred in the khan of Valiare, and followed up the +act of treachery by sacking, plundering, and burning the town of +Gardiki, and, "in direct violation of the Mohammedan law," carrying off +and reducing to slavery the women and children.—Finlay's <i>Hist. of +Greece</i> (edited by Rev. H. F. Tozer, 1877), vi. 67, 68.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FK" id="Footnote_FK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FK"><span class="label">[fk]</span></a> <a id="Note_140" name="Note_140">{140}</a> <i>Those who in blood begin in blood conclude their +span</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_164" id="Footnote_164"></a><a href="#FNanchor_164"><span class="label">[164]</span></a> [This was prophetic. "On the 5th of February, 1822, a +meeting took place between Ali and Mohammed Pasha.... When Mohammed rose +to depart, the two viziers, being of equal rank, moved together towards +the door.... As they parted Ali bowed low to his visitor, and Mohammed, +seizing the moment when the watchful eye of the old man was turned away, +drew his hanjar, and plunged it in Ali's heart. He walked on calmly to +the gallery, and said to the attendants, 'Ali of Tepalen is dead.' ... +The head of Ali was exposed at the gate of the serai."—Finlay's <i>Hist. +of Greece</i>, 1877, vi. 94, 95.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FL" id="Footnote_FL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FL"><span class="label">[fl]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Childe Harold with that chief held colloquy</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet what they spake it boots not to repeat;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Converse may little charm strange ear or eye;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Albeit he rested on that spacious seat,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of Moslem luxury the choice retreat</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Four days he rested on that worthy seat</i>.-[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_165" id="Footnote_165"></a><a href="#FNanchor_165"><span class="label">[165]</span></a> <a id="Note_141" name="Note_141">{141}</a> [The travellers left Janina on November 3, and +reached Prevesa November 7. At midday November 9 they set sail for +Patras in a galliot of Ali's, "a vessel of about fifty tons burden, with +three short masts and a large lateen sail." Instead of doubling Cape +Ducato, they were driven out to sea northward, and, finally, at one +o'clock in the morning, anchored off the Port of Phanari on the Suliote +coast. Towards the evening of the next day (November 10) they landed in +"the marshy bay" (stanza lxviii. line 2) and rode to Volondorako, where +they slept. "Here they were well received by the Albanian primate of the +place and by the Vizier's soldiers quartered there." Instead of +re-embarking in the galliot, they returned to Prevesa by land (November +11). As the country to the north of the Gulf of Arta was up in arms, and +bodies of robbers were abroad, they procured an escort of thirty-seven +Albanians, hired another galliot, and on Monday, the 13th, sailed across +the entrance of the gulf as far as the fortress of Vonitsa, where they +anchored for the night. By four o'clock in the afternoon of November 14 +they reached Utraikey or Lutraki, "situated in a deep bay surrounded +with rocks at the south-east corner of the Gulf of Arta." The courtyard +of a barrack on the shore is the scene of the song and dance (stanzas +lxx.-lxxii.). Here, in the original MS., the pilgrimage abruptly ends, +and in the remaining stanzas the Childe moralizes on the fallen fortunes +and vanished heroism of Greece.—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 157-165.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_166" id="Footnote_166"></a><a href="#FNanchor_166"><span class="label">[166]</span></a> <a id="Note_143" name="Note_143">{143}</a> [The route from Utraikey to Gouria (November 15-18) +lay through "thick woods of oak," with occasional peeps of the open +cultivated district of Ætolia on the further side of the Aspropotamo, +"white Achelous' tide." The Albanian guard was not dismissed until the +travellers reached Mesolonghi (November 21).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_167" id="Footnote_167"></a><a href="#FNanchor_167"><span class="label">[167]</span></a> [With this description Mr. Tozer compares Virgil, +<i>Æneid</i>, i. 159-165, and Tasso's imitation in <i>Gerus. Lib.</i>, canto xv. +stanzas 42, 43. The following lines from Hoole's translation (<i>Jerusalem +Delivered</i>, bk. xv. lines 310, 311, 317, 318) may be cited:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Amidst these isles a lone recess is found,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where circling shores the subject flood resound ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the waves repose in peace serene;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Black forests nod above, a silvan scene!"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_168" id="Footnote_168"></a><a href="#FNanchor_168"><span class="label">[168]</span></a> <a id="Note_144" name="Note_144">{144}</a> ["In the evening the gates were secured, and +preparations were made for feeding our Albanians. A goat was killed and +roasted whole, and four fires were kindled in the yard, round which the +soldiers seated themselves in parties. After eating and drinking, the +greater part of them assembled round the largest of the fires, and, +whilst ourselves and the elders of the party were seated on the ground, +danced round the blaze to their own songs, in the manner before +described, but with astonishing energy. All their songs were relations +of some robbing exploits. One of them ... began thus: 'When we set out +from Parga there were sixty of us!' then came the burden of the verse— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Robbers all at Parga!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Robbers all at Parga!'<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="Kle/phteis pote\ Pa/rga!">Κλέφτεις ποτὲ Πάργα!</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="Kle/phteis pote\ Pa/rga!">Κλέφτεις ποτὲ Πάργα!</span><br /></span> +</div></div><p> +And as they roared out this stave, they whirled round the fire, dropped, +and rebounded from their knees, and again whirled round as the chorus +was again repeated."—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 166, 167.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_169" id="Footnote_169"></a><a href="#FNanchor_169"><span class="label">[169]</span></a> <a id="Note_145" name="Note_145">{145}</a> [This was not Byron's first experience of an +Albanian war-song. At Salakhora, on the Gulf of Arta (nine miles +north-east of Prevesa), which he reached on October 1, the Albanian +guard at the custom-house entertained the travellers by "singing some +songs." "The music is extremely monotonous and nasal; and the shrill +scream of their voices was increased by each putting his hand behind his +ear and cheek, to give more force to the sound."—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, +i. 28. +</p><p> +Long afterwards, in 1816, one evening, on the Lake of Geneva, Byron +entertained Shelley, Mary, and Claire with "an Albanian song." They seem +to have felt that such melodies "unheard are sweeter." Hence, perhaps, +his <i>petit nom</i>, "Albè," that is, the "Albaneser."—<i>Life of Shelley</i>, +by Edward Dowden, 1896, p. 309.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_170" id="Footnote_170"></a><a href="#FNanchor_170"><span class="label">[170]</span></a> <a id="Note_146" name="Note_146">{146}</a> [Tambourgi, "drummer," a Turkish word, formed by +affixing the termination <i>-gi</i>, which signifies "one who discharges any +occupation," to the French <i>tambour</i> (H. F. Tozer, <i>Childe Harold</i>, p. +246).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FM" id="Footnote_FM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FM"><span class="label">[fm]</span></a> ——<i>thy tocsin afar</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_171" id="Footnote_171"></a><a href="#FNanchor_171"><span class="label">[171]</span></a> [The <i>camese</i> is the <i>fustanella</i> or white kilt of the +Toska, a branch of the Albanian, or Shkipetar, race. Spenser has the +forms "camis," "camus." The Arabic <i>quamīç</i> occurs in the Koran, but is +thought to be an adaptation of the Latin <i>camisia, camisa</i>.—Finlay's +<i>Hist, of Greece</i>, vi. 39; <i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Camis." (For "capote," +<i>vide post</i>, p. 181.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FN" id="Footnote_FN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FN"><span class="label">[fn]</span></a> <i>Shall the sons of Chimæra</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_172" id="Footnote_172"></a><a href="#FNanchor_172"><span class="label">[172]</span></a> [The Suliotes, after a protracted and often successful +resistance, were finally reduced by Ali, in December, 1803. They are +adjured to forget their natural desire for vengeance, and to unite with +the Albanians against their common foe, the Russians.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FO" id="Footnote_FO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FO"><span class="label">[fo]</span></a> <a id="Note_147" name="Note_147">{147}</a> <i>Shall win the young minions</i>——.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FP" id="Footnote_FP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FP"><span class="label">[fp]</span></a> ——<i>the maid and the youth</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FQ" id="Footnote_FQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FQ"><span class="label">[fq]</span></a> <i>Their caresses shall lull us, their voices shall +soothe</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_173" id="Footnote_173"></a><a href="#FNanchor_173"><span class="label">[173]</span></a> <a id="Note_148" name="Note_148">{148}</a> [So, too, at Salakhora (October 1): "One of the +songs was on the taking of Prevesa, an exploit of which the Albanians +are vastly proud; and there was scarcely one of them in which the name +of Ali Pasha was not roared out and dwelt upon with peculiar +energy."—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 29. +</p><p> +Prevesa, which, with other Venetian possessions, had fallen to the +French in 1797, was taken in the Sultan's name by Ali, in October, 1798. +The troops in the garrison (300 French, 460 Greeks) encountered and were +overwhelmed by 5000 Albanians, on the plain of Nicopolis. The victors +entered and sacked the town.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_174" id="Footnote_174"></a><a href="#FNanchor_174"><span class="label">[174]</span></a> [Ali's eldest son, Mukhtar, the Pasha of Berat, had been +sent against the Russians, who, in 1809, invaded the trans-Danubian +provinces of the Ottoman Empire.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_175" id="Footnote_175"></a><a href="#FNanchor_175"><span class="label">[175]</span></a> Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_176" id="Footnote_176"></a><a href="#FNanchor_176"><span class="label">[176]</span></a> Infidel.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_177" id="Footnote_177"></a><a href="#FNanchor_177"><span class="label">[177]</span></a> The insignia of a Pacha.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_178" id="Footnote_178"></a><a href="#FNanchor_178"><span class="label">[178]</span></a> <a id="Note_149" name="Note_149">{149}</a> [The literal meaning of Delhi or Deli, is, says M. +Darmesteter, "fou" ["properly madmen" (D'Herbelot)], a title bestowed on +Turkish warriors <i>honoris causû</i>. Byron suggests "forlorn hope" as an +equivalent; but there is a wide difference between the blood-drunkenness +of the Turk and the "foolishness" of British chivalry.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_179" id="Footnote_179"></a><a href="#FNanchor_179"><span class="label">[179]</span></a> Sword-bearer.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FR" id="Footnote_FR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FR"><span class="label">[fr]</span></a> <i>Tambourgi! thy tocsin</i>——.—[MS. D. erased]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_180" id="Footnote_180"></a><a href="#FNanchor_180"><span class="label">[180]</span></a> [Compare "The Isles of Greece," stanza 7 (<i>Don Juan</i>, +Canto III.)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Earth! render back from out thy heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A remnant of our Spartan dead!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the three hundred grant but three<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make a new Thermopylæ!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The meaning is, "When shall another Lysander spring from Laconia +('Eurotas' banks') and revive the heroism of the ancient Spartans?"]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FS" id="Footnote_FS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FS"><span class="label">[fs]</span></a> <a id="Note_150" name="Note_150">{150}</a> <i>A fawning feeble race, untaught, enslaved, +unmanned</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FT" id="Footnote_FT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FT"><span class="label">[ft]</span></a> ——<i>fair Liberty</i>.—[MS. erased, D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_181" id="Footnote_181"></a><a href="#FNanchor_181"><span class="label">[181]</span></a> <a id="Note_151" name="Note_151">{151}</a> [Compare <i>The Age of Bronze</i>, vi. lines 39-46.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_182" id="Footnote_182"></a><a href="#FNanchor_182"><span class="label">[182]</span></a> [The Wahabees, who took their name from the Arab sheik +Mohammed ben Abd-el-Wahab, arose in the province of Nedj, in Central +Arabia, about 1760. Half-socialists, half-puritans, they insisted on +fulfilling to the letter the precepts of the Koran. In 1803-4 they +attacked and ravaged Mecca and Medinah, and in 1808 they invaded Syria +and took Damascus. During Byron's residence in the East they were at the +height of their power, and seemed to threaten the very existence of the +Turkish empire.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_183" id="Footnote_183"></a><a href="#FNanchor_183"><span class="label">[183]</span></a> <a id="Note_152" name="Note_152">{152}</a> [Byron spent two months in Constantinople +(Stamboul, i.e. +<span title="ei)s tê po/lin">εἰς τὴν πόλιν</span>)—from May +14 to July 14, 1810. The "Lenten days," which were ushered in by a +carnival, were those of the second "great" Lent of the Greek Church, +that of St. Peter and St. Paul, which begins on the first Monday after +Trinity, and ends on the 29th of June.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_184" id="Footnote_184"></a><a href="#FNanchor_184"><span class="label">[184]</span></a> <a id="Note_153" name="Note_153">{153}</a> [These <i>al-fresco</i> festivities must, it is +presumed, have taken place on the two days out of the seven when you +"might not 'damn the climate' and complain of the spleen." Hobhouse +records excursions to the Valley of Sweet Waters; to Belgrade, where +"the French minister gave a sort of <i>fête-champêtre</i>," when "the +carousal lasted four days," and when "night after night is kept awake by +the pipes, tabors, and fiddles of these moonlight dances;" and to the +grove of Fanar-Baktchesi.—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, ii. 242-258.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_185" id="Footnote_185"></a><a href="#FNanchor_185"><span class="label">[185]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">["There's nothing like young Love, No! No!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There's nothing like young love at last."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_186" id="Footnote_186"></a><a href="#FNanchor_186"><span class="label">[186]</span></a> <a id="Note_154" name="Note_154">{154}</a> [It has been assumed that "searment" is an +incorrect form of "cerement," the cloth dipped "in melting wax, in which +dead bodies were enfolded when embalmed" (<i>Hamlet</i>, act i. sc. 4), but +the sense of the passage seems rather to point to "cerecloth," +"searcloth," a plaster to cover up a wound. The "robe of revel" does but +half conceal the sore and aching heart.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_187" id="Footnote_187"></a><a href="#FNanchor_187"><span class="label">[187]</span></a> [For the accentuation of the word, compare Chaucer, "The +Sompnour's Tale" (<i>Canterbury Tales</i>, line 7631)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And dronkennesse is eke a foul recórd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of any man, and namely of a lord."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FU" id="Footnote_FU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FU"><span class="label">[fu]</span></a> <i>When Athens' children are with arts endued</i>.—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_188" id="Footnote_188"></a><a href="#FNanchor_188"><span class="label">[188]</span></a> [Compare <i>Ecclus.</i> xliv. 8, 9: "There be of them, that +have left a name behind them, that their praises might be reported. And +some there be, which have no memorial; who are perished, as though they +had never been."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_189" id="Footnote_189"></a><a href="#FNanchor_189"><span class="label">[189]</span></a> <a id="Note_156" name="Note_156">{156}</a> [The "solitary column" may be that on the shore of +the harbour of Colonna, in the island of Kythnos (Thermia), or one of +the detached columns of the Olympeion.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_190" id="Footnote_190"></a><a href="#FNanchor_190"><span class="label">[190]</span></a> [Tritonia, or Tritogenia, one of Athena's names of +uncertain origin. Hofmann's <i>Lexicon Universale</i>, Tooke's <i>Pantheon</i>, +and Smith's <i>Classical Dictionary</i> are much in the same tale. Lucan +(<i>Pharsalia</i>, lib. ix. lines 350-354) derives the epithet from Lake +Triton, or Tritonis, on the Mediterranean coast of Libya— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hanc et Pallas amat: patrio quæ vertice nata<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terrarum primum Libyen (nam proxima coelo est,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ut probat ipse calor) tetigit, stagnique quietâ<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Vultus vidit aquâ, posuitque in margine plantas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et se dilectâ Tritonida dixit ab undâ."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_191" id="Footnote_191"></a><a href="#FNanchor_191"><span class="label">[191]</span></a> [Hobhouse dates the first visit to Cape Colonna, January +24, 1810.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_192" id="Footnote_192"></a><a href="#FNanchor_192"><span class="label">[192]</span></a> <a id="Note_157" name="Note_157">{157}</a> [Athené's dower of the olive induced the gods to +appoint her as the protector and name-giver of Athens. Poseidon, who had +proffered a horse, was a rejected candidate. (See note by Rev. E. C. +Owen, <i>Childe Harold</i>, 1897, p. 175.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_193" id="Footnote_193"></a><a href="#FNanchor_193"><span class="label">[193]</span></a> ["The wild thyme is in great abundance; but there are +only two stands of bee-hives on the mountains, and very little of the +real honey of Hymettus is to be now procured at Athens.... A small pot +of it was shown to me as a rarity" (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 341). There +is now, a little way out of Athens, a "honey-farm, where the honey from +Hymettus is prepared for sale" (<i>Handbook for Greece</i>, p. 500).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FV" id="Footnote_FV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FV"><span class="label">[fv]</span></a> ——<i>Pentele's marbles glare</i>.—[MS. D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_194" id="Footnote_194"></a><a href="#FNanchor_194"><span class="label">[194]</span></a> [Stanzas lxxxviii.-xc. are not in the MS., but were first +included in the seventh edition, 1814.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_195" id="Footnote_195"></a><a href="#FNanchor_195"><span class="label">[195]</span></a> [Byron and Hobhouse, after visiting Colonna, slept at +Keratéa, and proceeded to Marathon on January 25, returning to Athens on +the following day.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FW" id="Footnote_FW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FW"><span class="label">[fw]</span></a> <a id="Note_158" name="Note_158">{158}</a> <i>Preserve alike its form</i>——.—[MS. L.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FX" id="Footnote_FX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FX"><span class="label">[fx]</span></a> <i>When uttered to the listener's eye</i>——.—[MS. L.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FY" id="Footnote_FY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FY"><span class="label">[fy]</span></a> <i>The host, the plain, the fight</i>——.—[MS. L.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_FZ" id="Footnote_FZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_FZ"><span class="label">[fz]</span></a> <i>The shattered Mede who flies with broken bow</i>.—[MS. L.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_196" id="Footnote_196"></a><a href="#FNanchor_196"><span class="label">[196]</span></a> ["The plain of Marathon is enclosed on three sides by the +rocky arms of Parnes and Pentelicus, while the fourth is bounded by the +sea." After the first rush, when the victorious wings, where the files +were deep, had drawn together and extricated the shallower and weaker +centre, which had been repulsed by the Persians and the Sakæ, "the +pursuit became general, and the Persians were chased to their ships, +ranged in line along the shore. Some of them became involved in the +impassable marsh, and there perished." (See <i>Childe Harold</i>, edited by +H. F. Tozer, 1885, p. 253; Grote's <i>History of Greece</i>, iv. 276. See, +too, <i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 378-384.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GA" id="Footnote_GA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GA"><span class="label">[ga]</span></a> +<i>To tell what Asia troubled but to hear</i>.—[MS. L.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_197" id="Footnote_197"></a><a href="#FNanchor_197"><span class="label">[197]</span></a> +[See <a href="#Footnote_113">note to Canto II. stanzas i.-xv.</a>, pp. 99, 100.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GB" id="Footnote_GB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GB"><span class="label">[gb]</span></a> +<i>Long to the remnants</i>—.——[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_198" id="Footnote_198"></a><a href="#FNanchor_198"><span class="label">[198]</span></a> +[The "Ionian blast" is the western wind that brings the +voyager across the Ionian Sea.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_199" id="Footnote_199"></a><a href="#FNanchor_199"><span class="label">[199]</span></a> +<a id="Note_160" name="Note_160">{160}</a> [The original MS. closes with this stanza.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GC" id="Footnote_GC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GC"><span class="label">[gc]</span></a> <i>Which heeds nor stern reproach</i>——.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GD" id="Footnote_GD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GD"><span class="label">[gd]</span></a> +<a id="Note_161" name="Note_161">{161}</a><i>Would I had ne'er returned</i>——.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_200" id="Footnote_200"></a><a href="#FNanchor_200"><span class="label">[200]</span></a> +</p><p> +"To Mr. Dallas. +</p><p> +The 'he' refers to 'Wanderer' and anything is better than <i>I I I I</i> +always <i>I</i>. +</p> +<p style="text-indent:15em;">Yours,</p> +<p style="text-indent:16em;">BYRON."</p> +<p>[4th Revise B.M.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GE" id="Footnote_GE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GE"><span class="label">[ge]</span></a> +<i>But Time the Comforter shall come at last</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_201" id="Footnote_201"></a><a href="#FNanchor_201"><span class="label">[201]</span></a> +[Compare Young's <i>Night Thoughts</i> ("The Complaint," Night i.). <i>Vide ante</i>, <a href="#en_I_19">p. 95.</a>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GF" id="Footnote_GF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GF"><span class="label">[gf]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Though Time not yet hath ting'd my locks with snow,</i>[*]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yet hath he reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd</i>.—[D.]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +[*] "To Mr. Dallas. +</p><p> +If Mr. D. wishes me to adopt the former line so be it. I prefer the +other I confess, it has less egotism—the first sounds affected. +</p><p style="text-indent:15em;">Yours,</p> +<p style="text-indent:16em;">BYRON."</p> +<p> +[Dallas assented, and directed the printer to let the Roll stand.]</p> +</div> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<h2 style="line-height:2em;"><a name="NOTES_2" id="NOTES_2"></a>NOTES<br /> +<span style="font-size:66%">TO</span><br /> +<span style="font-size:150%;">CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE</span>.<br /> +CANTO II. +</h2> + + +<h4><a id="en_II_1" name="en_II_1"></a>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Despite of War and wasting fire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_I">Stanza i.</a> line 4.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Part</span> of the Acropolis was destroyed by the explosion of +a magazine during the Venetian siege.</p> + +<p>[In 1684, when the Venetian Armada threatened Athens, +the Turks removed the Temple of Victory, and made use +of the materials for the construction of a bastion. In the +autumn of 1687, when the city was besieged by the Venetians +under Francesco Morosini (1618-1694; Doge of Venice, 1688), +"mortars were planted ... near the north-east corner of the +rock, which threw their shells at a high angle, with a low charge, +into the Acropolis.... On the 25th of September, a Venetian +bomb blew up a small powder-magazine in the Propylæa, +and on the following evening another fell in the Parthenon, +where the Turks had deposited ... a considerable quantity +of powder.... A terrific explosion took place; the central +columns of the peristyle, the walls of the cella, and the +immense architraves and cornices they supported, were +scattered around the remains of the temple. The Propylæa +had been partly destroyed in 1656 by the explosion of a +magazine which was struck by lightning."—Finlay's <i>History +of Greece</i>, 1887, i. 185.]</p> + + +<h4><a id="en_II_2" name="en_II_2"></a>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is the dread sceptre and dominion dire.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_I">Stanza i.</a> lines 6, 7.</p> + +<p>We can all feel, or imagine, the regret with which the +ruins of cities, once the capitals of empires, are beheld: the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span> +reflections suggested by such objects are too trite to require +recapitulation. But never did the littleness of man, and the +vanity of his very best virtues, of patriotism to exalt, and of +valour to defend his country appear more conspicuous than +in the record of what Athens was, and the certainty of what +she now is. This theatre of contention between mighty +factions, of the struggles of orators, the exaltation and +deposition of tyrants, the triumph and punishment of generals, +is now become a scene of petty intrigue and perpetual disturbance, +between the bickering agents of certain British +nobility and gentry. "The wild foxes, the owls and serpents +in the ruins of Babylon,"<a name="FNanchor_202" id="FNanchor_202"></a><a href="#Footnote_202" class="fnanchor">[202]</a> were surely less degrading than +such inhabitants. The Turks have the plea of conquest +for their tyranny, and the Greeks have only suffered the +fortune of war, incidental to the bravest; but how are the +mighty fallen, when two painters<a name="FNanchor_203" id="FNanchor_203"></a><a href="#Footnote_203" class="fnanchor">[203]</a> contest the privilege of +plundering the Parthenon, and triumph in turn, according +to the tenor of each succeeding firman! Sylla could but +punish, Philip subdue, and Xerxes burn Athens; but it +remained for the paltry antiquarian, and his despicable +agents, to render her contemptible as himself and his pursuits. +The Parthenon, before its destruction, in part, by fire during +the Venetian siege, had been a temple, a church, and a +mosque.<a name="FNanchor_204" id="FNanchor_204"></a><a href="#Footnote_204" class="fnanchor">[204]</a> In each point of view it is an object of regard: +it changed its worshippers; but still it was a place of worship +thrice sacred to devotion: its violation is a triple sacrifice. +But—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">"Man, proud man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drest in a little brief authority,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plays such fantastic tricks before high Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As make the angels weep."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib">[Shakespeare, <i>Measure for Measure</i>,<br />act ii. sc. 2, lines 117-122.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_3" name="en_II_3"></a>3.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far on the solitary shore he sleeps.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_V">Stanza v.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>It was not always the custom of the Greeks to burn +their dead; the greater Ajax, in particular, was interred +entire. Almost all the chiefs became gods after their decease; +and he was indeed neglected, who had not annual games +near his tomb, or festivals in honour of his memory by his +countrymen, as Achilles, Brasidas, etc., and at last even +Antinous, whose death was as heroic as his life was infamous.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_4" name="en_II_4"></a>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here, son of Saturn! was thy favourite throne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_X">Stanza x.</a> line 3.</p> + +<p>The Temple of Jupiter Olympius, of which sixteen columns, +entirely of marble, yet survive; originally there were one +hundred and fifty. These columns, however, are by many +supposed to have belonged to the Pantheon.</p> + +<p>[The Olympieion, or Temple of Zeus Olympius, on the +south-east of the Acropolis, some five hundred yards from +the foot of the rock, was begun by Pisistratos, and completed +seven hundred years later by Hadrian. It was one of the +three or four largest temples of antiquity. The cella had +been originally enclosed by a double row of twenty columns +at the sides, and a triple row of eight columns at each front, +making a hundred and four columns in all; but in 1810 only +sixteen "lofty Corinthian columns" were standing. Mr. +Tozer points out that "'base' is accurate, because Corinthian +columns have bases, which Doric columns have not," and +notes that the word "'unshaken' implies that the column +itself had fallen, but the base remains."—<i>Childe Harold</i>, +1888, p. 228.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_5" name="en_II_5"></a>5.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And bear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XI">Stanza xi.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>The ship was wrecked in the Archipelago.</p> + +<p>[The <i>Mentor</i>, which Elgin had chartered to convey to +England a cargo consisting of twelve chests of antiquities, +was wrecked off the Island of Cerigo, in 1803. His secretary, +W. R. Hamilton, set divers to work, and rescued four chests; +but the remainder were not recovered till 1805.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_6" name="en_II_6"></a>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XII">Stanza xii.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>At this moment (January 3, 1810), besides what has been +already deposited in London, an Hydriot vessel is in the +Pyræus to receive every portable relic. Thus, as I heard a +young Greek observe, in common with many of his countrymen—for, +lost as they are, they yet feel on this occasion—thus +may Lord Elgin boast of having ruined Athens. An +Italian painter of the first eminence, named Lusieri<a name="FNanchor_205" id="FNanchor_205"></a><a href="#Footnote_205" class="fnanchor">[205]</a>, +is the +agent of devastation; and like the Greek <i>finder</i><a name="FNanchor_206" id="FNanchor_206"></a><a href="#Footnote_206" class="fnanchor">[206]</a> +of Verres in +Sicily, who followed the same profession, he has proved the +able instrument of plunder. Between this artist and the +French Consul Fauvel<a name="FNanchor_207" id="FNanchor_207"></a><a href="#Footnote_207" class="fnanchor">[207]</a>, +who wishes to rescue the remains +for his own government, there is now a violent dispute concerning +a car employed in their conveyance, the wheel of +which—I wish they were both broken upon it!—has been +locked up by the Consul, and Lusieri has laid his complaint +before the Waywode. Lord Elgin has been extremely +happy in his choice of Signer Lusieri. During a residence +of ten years in Athens, he never had the curiosity to proceed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +as far as Sunium (now Cape Colonna),<a name="FNanchor_208" id="FNanchor_208"></a><a href="#Footnote_208" class="fnanchor">[208]</a> till he accompanied +us in our second excursion. However, his works, as far as +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> +they go, are most beautiful: but they are almost all unfinished. +While he and his patrons confine themselves to tasting +medals, appreciating cameos, sketching columns, and cheapening +gems, their little absurdities are as harmless as insect or +fox-hunting, maiden-speechifying, barouche-driving, or any +such pastime; but when they carry away three or four shiploads +of the most valuable and massy relics that time and +barbarism have left to the most injured and most celebrated +of cities: when they destroy, in a vain attempt to tear down, +those works which have been the admiration of ages, I know +no motive which can excuse, no name which can designate, +the perpetrators of this dastardly devastation. It was not +the least of the crimes laid to the charge of Verres, that he +had plundered Sicily, in the manner since imitated at Athens. +The most unblushing impudence could hardly go farther +than to affix the name of its plunderer to the walls of the +Acropolis; while the wanton and useless defacement of the +whole range of the basso-relievos, in one compartment of +the temple, will never permit that name to be pronounced +by an observer without execration.</p> + +<p>On this occasion I speak impartially: I am not a collector +or admirer of collections, consequently no rival; but I have +some early prepossession in favour of Greece, and do not +think the honour of England advanced by plunder, whether +of India or Attica.</p> + +<p>Another noble Lord [Aberdeen] has done better, because +he has done less: but some others, more or less noble, yet +"all honourable men," have done <i>best</i>, because, after a deal +of excavation and execration, bribery to the Waywode, +mining and countermining, they have done nothing at all. +We had such ink-shed, and wine-shed, which almost ended +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +in bloodshed!<a name="FNanchor_209" id="FNanchor_209"></a><a href="#Footnote_209" class="fnanchor">[209]</a> +Lord E.'s "prig"—see Jonathan Wild for +the definition of "priggism"<a name="FNanchor_210" id="FNanchor_210"></a><a href="#Footnote_210" class="fnanchor">[210]</a>—quarrelled +with another, +<i>Gropius</i><a name="FNanchor_211" id="FNanchor_211"></a><a href="#Footnote_211" class="fnanchor">[211]</a> +by name (a very good name too for his business), +and muttered something about satisfaction, in a verbal +answer to a note of the poor Prussian: this was stated at +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +table to Gropius, who laughed, but could eat no dinner afterwards. +The rivals were not reconciled when I left Greece. +I have reason to remember their squabble, for they wanted +to make me their arbitrator.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_7" name="en_II_7"></a>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Her Sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet felt some portion of their Mother's pains.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XII">Stanza xii.</a> lines 7 and 8.</p> + +<p>I cannot resist availing myself of the permission of my +friend Dr. Clarke, whose name requires no comment with +the public, but whose sanction will add tenfold weight to my +testimony, to insert the following extract from a very obliging +letter of his to me, as a note to the above lines:—"When the +last of the Metopes was taken from the Parthenon, and, in +moving of it, great part of the superstructure with one of the +triglyphs was thrown down by the workmen whom Lord +Elgin employed, the Disdar, who beheld the mischief done +to the building, took his pipe from his mouth, dropped a +tear, and in a supplicating tone of voice, said to Lusieri, +<span title="Telos">Τέλος</span>!—I was present." +The Disdar alluded to was the father of the present Disdar.</p> + +<p>[Disdar, or Dizdar, i.e. castle-holder—the warden of a +castle or fort (<i>N. Eng. Dict</i>., art. "Dizdar"). +The story is told at greater length in +<i>Travels in Various Countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa</i>, +by Edward Daniel Clarke, LL.D., +1810-14, Part II. sect. ii. p. 483.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_8" name="en_II_8"></a>8.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where was thine Ægis, Pallas! that appalled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stern Alaric and Havoc on their way?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XIV">Stanza xiv.</a> lines i and 2.</p> + +<p>According to Zosimus, Minerva and Achilles frightened +Alaric from the Acropolis: but others relate that the Gothic +king was nearly as mischievous as the Scottish peer.—See +Chandler.</p> + +<p>[Zosimus, <i>Historiæ</i>, lib. v. cap. 6, <i>Corp. Scr. Byz</i>., 1837, +p. 253. As a matter of fact, Alaric, King of the Visigoths, +occupied Athens in A.D. 395 without resistance, and carried +off the movable treasures of the city, though he did not +destroy buildings or works of art.—Note by Rev. E. C. Owen, +<i>Childe Harold</i>, 1898, p. 162.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_9" name="en_II_9"></a>9.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The netted canopy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XVIII">Stanza xviii.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>To prevent blocks or splinters from falling on deck during action.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_10" name="en_II_10"></a>10.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">But not in silence pass Calypso's isles.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XXIX">Stanza xxix.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Goza is said to have been the island of Calypso.</p> + +<p>[Strabo (Paris, 1853), lib. i. cap. ii. 57 and lib. vii. cap. iii. 50, +says that Apollodorus blamed the poet Callimachus, +who was a grammarian and ought to have known better, +for his contention that Gaudus, i.e. Gozo, was Calypso's isle. +Ogygia (<i>Odyssey</i>, i. 50) was</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">"a sea-girt isle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where is the navel of the sea, a woodland isle."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It was surely as a poet, not as a grammarian, that Callimachus +was at fault.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_11" name="en_II_11"></a>11.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thee, thou rugged Nurse of savage men!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XXXVIII">Stanza xxxviii.</a> lines 5 and 6.</p> + +<p>Albania comprises part of Macedonia, Illyria, Chaonia, +and Epirus. Iskander is the Turkish word for Alexander; +and the celebrated Scanderbeg<a name="FNanchor_212" id="FNanchor_212"></a><a href="#Footnote_212" class="fnanchor">[212]</a> +(Lord Alexander) is alluded +to in the third and fourth lines of the thirty-eighth stanza. I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span> +do not know whether I am correct in making Scanderbeg +the countryman of Alexander, who was born at Pella in +Macedon, but Mr. Gibbon terms him so, and adds Pyrrhus +to the list, in speaking of his exploits.</p> + +<p>Of Albania Gibbon remarks that a country "within sight +of Italy is less known than the interior of America." Circumstances, +of little consequence to mention, led Mr. Hobhouse +and myself into that country before we visited any +other part of the Ottoman dominions; and with the exception +of Major Leake,<a name="FNanchor_213" id="FNanchor_213"></a><a href="#Footnote_213" class="fnanchor">[213]</a> +then officially resident at Joannina, +no other Englishmen have ever advanced beyond the capital +into the interior, as that gentleman very lately assured me. +Ali Pacha was at that time (October, 1809) carrying on war +against Ibrahim Pacha, whom he had driven to Berat, a +strong fortress, which he was then besieging: on our arrival +at Joannina we were invited to Tepaleni, his highness's +birthplace, and favourite Serai, only one day's distance from +Berat; at this juncture the Vizier had made it his headquarters. +After some stay in the capital, we accordingly +followed; but though furnished with every accommodation, +and escorted by one of the Vizier's secretaries, we were nine +days (on account of the rains) in accomplishing a journey +which, on our return, barely occupied four. On our route we +passed two cities, Argyrocastro and Libochabo, apparently +little inferior to Yanina in size; and no pencil or pen can +ever do justice to the scenery in the vicinity of Zitza and +Delvinachi, the frontier village of Epirus and Albania Proper.</p> + +<p>On Albania and its inhabitants I am unwilling to descant, +because this will be done so much better by my fellow-traveller, +in a work which may probably precede this in publication, +that I as little wish to follow as I would to anticipate +him.<a name="FNanchor_214" id="FNanchor_214"></a><a href="#Footnote_214" class="fnanchor">[214]</a> +But some few observations are necessary to the text. +The Arnaouts, or Albanese, struck me forcibly by their +resemblance to the Highlanders of Scotland, in dress, figure, +and manner of living. Their very mountains seemed Caledonian, +with a kinder climate. The kilt, though white; the +spare, active form; their dialect, Celtic in its sound; and +their hardy habits, all carried me back to Morven. No +nation are so detested and dreaded by their neighbours as +the Albanese; the Greeks hardly regard them as Christians, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +or the Turks as Moslems; and in fact they are a mixture of +both, and sometimes neither. Their habits are predatory—all +are armed; and the red-shawled Arnaouts, the Montenegrins, +Chimariots, and Gegdes, are treacherous;<a name="FNanchor_215" id="FNanchor_215"></a><a href="#Footnote_215" class="fnanchor">[215]</a> +the others +differ somewhat in garb, and essentially in character. As +far as my own experience goes, I can speak favourably. I +was attended by two, an Infidel and a Mussulman, to Constantinople +and every other part of Turkey which came +within my observation; and more faithful in peril, or indefatigable +in service, are rarely to be found. The Infidel +was named Basilius; the Moslem, Dervish Tahiri; the former +a man of middle age, and the latter about my own. Basili +was strictly charged by Ali Pacha in person to attend us; +and Dervish was one of fifty who accompanied us through +the forests of Acarnania to the banks of Achelous, and +onward to Messalonghi in Ætolia. There I took him into +my own service, and never had occasion to repent it till the +moment of my departure.</p> + +<p>When, in 1810, after the departure of my friend Mr. +Hobhouse for England, I was seized with a severe fever in +the Morea, these men saved my life by frightening away my +physician, whose throat they threatened to cut if I was not +cured within a given time. To this consolatory assurance +of posthumous retribution, and a resolute refusal of Dr. +Romanelli's prescriptions, I attributed my recovery.<a name="FNanchor_GG" id="FNanchor_GG"></a><a href="#Footnote_GG" class="fnanchor">[gg]</a> +I had +left my last remaining English servant at Athens; my +dragoman was as ill as myself, and my poor Arnaouts nursed +me with an attention which would have done honour to +civilization. They had a variety of adventures; for the +Moslem, Dervish, being a remarkably handsome man, was +always squabbling with the husbands of Athens; insomuch +that four of the principal Turks paid me a visit of remonstrance +at the Convent on the subject of his having taken +a woman from the bath—whom he had lawfully bought, however—a +thing quite contrary to etiquette. Basili also was +extremely gallant amongst his own persuasion, and had the +greatest veneration for the church, mixed with the highest +contempt of churchmen, whom he cuffed upon occasion in +a most heterodox manner. Yet he never passed a church +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +without crossing himself; and I remember the risk he ran +in entering St. Sophia, in Stambol, because it had once been +a place of his worship. On remonstrating with him on his +inconsistent proceedings, he invariably answered, "Our +church is holy, our priests are thieves:" and then he crossed +himself as usual, and boxed the ears of the first "papas" +who refused to assist in any required operation, as was +always found to be necessary where a priest had any influence +with the Cogia Bashi<a name="FNanchor_216" id="FNanchor_216"></a><a href="#Footnote_216" class="fnanchor">[216]</a> +of his village. Indeed, a more +abandoned race of miscreants cannot exist than the lower +orders of the Greek clergy.</p> + +<p>When preparations were made for my return, my Albanians +were summoned to receive their pay. Basili took his with +an awkward show of regret at my intended departure, and +marched away to his quarters with his bag of piastres. I +sent for Dervish, but for some time he was not to be found; +at last he entered, just as Signor Logotheti,<a name="FNanchor_217" id="FNanchor_217"></a><a href="#Footnote_217" class="fnanchor">[217]</a> +father to the +ci-devant Anglo-consul of Athens, and some other of my +Greek acquaintances, paid me a visit. Dervish took the +money in his hand, but on a sudden dashed it to the ground; +and clasping his hands, which he raised to his forehead, rushed +out of the room weeping bitterly. From that moment to the +hour of my embarkation, he continued his lamentations, and +all our efforts to console him only produced this answer, +"<span title="M'apheinei">Μ'αφεινει</span>", +"He leaves me." Signer Logotheti, who never wept +before for anything less than the loss of a para (about the +fourth of a farthing), melted; the padre of the convent, my +attendants, my visitors—and I verily believe that even +Sterne's "foolish fat scullion" would have left her "fish-kettle" +to sympathize with the unaffected and unexpected +sorrow of this barbarian.<a name="FNanchor_218" id="FNanchor_218"></a><a href="#Footnote_218" class="fnanchor">[218]</a></p> + + +<p>For my own part, when I remembered that, a short time +before my departure from England, a noble and most intimate +associate had excused himself from taking leave of me +because he had to attend a female relation "to a milliner's,"<a name="FNanchor_219" id="FNanchor_219"></a><a href="#Footnote_219" class="fnanchor">[219]</a> +I felt no less surprised than humiliated by the present +occurrence and the past recollection. That Dervish would +leave me with some regret was to be expected; when master +and man have been scrambling over the mountains of a +dozen provinces together, they are unwilling to separate; +but his present feelings, contrasted with his native ferocity, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +improved my opinion of the human heart. I believe this +almost feudal fidelity is frequent amongst them. One day, +on our journey over Parnassus, an Englishman in my service +gave him a push in some dispute about the baggage, which +he unluckily mistook for a blow; he spoke not, but sat down +leaning his head upon his hands. Foreseeing the consequences, +we endeavoured to explain away the affront, which +produced the following answer:—"I <i>have been</i> a robber; +I <i>am</i> a soldier; no captain ever struck me; +<i>you</i> are my master, I have eaten your bread, +but by <i>that</i> bread! (a usual oath) +had it been otherwise, I would have stabbed the dog, +your servant, and gone to the mountains." So the affair ended, +but from that day forward he never thoroughly forgave the +thoughtless fellow who insulted him. Dervish excelled in the +dance of his country, conjectured to be a remnant of +the ancient Pyrrhic: be that as it may, it is manly, and +requires wonderful agility. It is very distinct from the +stupid Romaika,<a name="FNanchor_220" id="FNanchor_220"></a><a href="#Footnote_220" class="fnanchor">[220]</a> +the dull round-about of the Greeks, of which +our Athenian party had so many specimens.</p> + +<p>The Albanians in general (I do not mean the cultivators +of the earth in the provinces, who have also that appellation, +but the mountaineers) have a fine cast of countenance; and +the most beautiful women I ever beheld, in stature and in +features, we saw <i>levelling</i> the <i>road</i> broken down by the +torrents between Delvinachi and Libochabo. Their manner +of walking is truly theatrical; but this strut is probably the +effect of the capote, or cloak, depending from one shoulder. +Their long hair reminds you of the Spartans, and their +courage in desultory warfare is unquestionable. Though +they have some cavalry amongst the Gegdes, I never saw a +good Arnaout horseman; my own preferred the English +saddles, which, however, they could never keep. But on foot +they are not to be subdued by fatigue.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_12" name="en_II_12"></a>12.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i12">And passed the barren spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XXXIX">Stanza xxxix.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Ithaca.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_13" name="en_II_13"></a>13.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Actium—Lepanto—fatal Trafalgar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XL">Stanza xl.</a> line 5.</p> + +<p>Actium and Trafalgar need no further mention. +The battle of Lepanto [October 7, 1571], +equally bloody and considerable, +but less known, was fought in the Gulf of Patras. +Here the author of Don Quixote lost his left hand.</p> + +<p>["His [Cervantes'] galley the <i>Marquesa</i>, was in the thick +of the fight, and before it was over he had received three +gun-shot wounds, two in the breast and one on the left hand +or arm." In consequence of his wound "he was seven +months in hospital before he was discharged. He came out +with his left hand permanently disabled; he had lost the use +of it, as Mercury told him in the 'Viaje del Parnase,' for the +greater glory of the right."—<i>Don Quixote</i>, A Translation by +John Ormsby, 1885, <i>Introduction</i>, i. 13.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_14" name="en_II_14"></a>14.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And hailed the last resort of fruitless love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLI">Stanza xli.</a> line 3.</p> + +<p>Leucadia, now Santa Maura. From the promontory (the +Lover's Leap) Sappho is said to have thrown herself.</p> + +<p>[Strabo (lib. x. cap. 2, ed. Paris, 1853, p. 388) gives +Menander as an authority for the legend that Sappho was +the first to take the "Lover's Leap" from the promontory of +Leucate. Writers, he adds, better versed in antiquities +<span title="a)rchaiologikô/teroi">ἀρχαιολογικώτεροι</span>, +prefer the claims of one Cephalus. Another +legend, which he gives as a fact, perhaps gave birth to the +later and more poetical fiction. The Leucadians, he says, +once a year, on Apollo's day, were wont to hurl a criminal +from the rock into the sea by way of expiation and propitiation. +Birds of all kinds were attached to the victim to +break his fall, and, if he reached the sea uninjured, there was +a fleet of little boats ready to carry him to other shores. +It is possible that dim memories of human sacrifice lingered in +the islands, that in course of time victims were transformed +into "lovers," and it is certain that poets and commentators, +"prone to lie," are responsible for names and incidents.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_15" name="en_II_15"></a>15.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Many a Roman chief and Asian King.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLV">Stanza xlv.</a> line 4.</p> + +<p>It is said, that on the day previous to the battle of Actium, +Antony had thirteen kings at his levee.</p> + +<p>[Plutarch, in his <i>Antonius</i>, gives the names of "six auxiliary +kings who fought under his banners," and mentions six other +kings who did not attend in person but sent supplies. Shakespeare +(<i>Anthony and Cleopatra</i>, act iii. sc. 6, lines 68-75), +quoting Plutarch almost <i>verbatim</i>, enumerates ten kings who +were "assembled" in Anthony's train—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Bocchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">King Malchus of Arabia; king of Pont;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herod of Jewry; Mithridates, king<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Comagene; Polemon and Amintas,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The kings of Mede and Lycaonia,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a more larger list of sceptres."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Other authorities for the events of the campaign and battle +of Actium (Dion Cassius, Appian, and Orosius) are silent as +to "kings;" but Florus (iv. 11) says that the wind-tossed +waters "vomited back" to the shore gold and purple, the +spoils of the Arabians and Sabæans, and a thousand other +peoples of Asia.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_16" name="en_II_16"></a>16.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Look where the second Cæsar's trophies rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLV">Stanza xlv.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p>Nicopolis, whose ruins are most extensive, is at some +distance from Actium, where the wall of the Hippodrome +survives in a few fragments. These ruins are large masses +of brickwork, the bricks of which are joined by interstices +of mortar, as large as the bricks themselves, and equally durable.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_17" name="en_II_17"></a>17.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">Acherusia's lake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLVII">Stanza xlvii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>According to Pouqueville, the lake of Yanina; but +Pouqueville is always out.</p> + +<p>[The lake of Yanina (Janina or Joannina) was the ancient +Pambotis. "At the mouth of the gorge [of Suli], where it +suddenly comes to an end, was the marsh, the Palus +Acherusia, in the neighbourhood of which was the +Oracle."—<i>Geography of Greece</i>, by H. F. Tozer, 1873, p. 121.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_18" name="en_II_18"></a>18.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To greet Albania's Chief.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLVII">Stanza xlvii.</a> line 4.</p> + +<p>The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man +there is an incorrect account in Pouqueville's <i>Travels</i>. +[For note on Ali Pasha (1741-1822), see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 246.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_19" name="en_II_19"></a>19.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Yet here and there some daring mountain-band<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disdain his power, and from their rocky hold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurl their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLVII">Stanza xlvii.</a> lines 7, 8, and 9.</p> + +<p>Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the +castle of Suli, withstood thirty thousand Albanians for +eighteen years; the castle at last was taken by bribery. In +this contest there were several acts performed not unworthy +of the better days of Greece.</p> + +<p>[Ali Pasha assumed the government of Janina in 1788, +but it was not till December 12, 1803, that the Suliotes, who +were betrayed by their leaders, Botzaris and Koutsonika and +others, finally surrendered.—Finlay's <i>History of Greece</i>, +1877, vi. 45-50.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_20" name="en_II_20"></a>20.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Monastic Zitza! etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLVIII">Stanza xlviii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The convent and village of Zitza are four hours' journey +from Joannina, or Yanina, the capital of the Pachalick. In +the valley the river Kalamas (once the Acheron) flows, and, +not far from Zitza, forms a fine cataract. The situation is +perhaps the finest in Greece, though the approach to +Delvinachi and parts of Acarnania and Ætolia may contest +the palm. Delphi, Parnassus, and, in Attica, even Cape +Colonna and Port Raphti, are very inferior; as also every +scene in Ionia, or the Troad: I am almost inclined to add +the approach to Constantinople; but, from the different +features of the last, a comparison can hardly be made.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_21" name="en_II_21"></a>21.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Here dwells the caloyer.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_XLIX">Stanza xlix.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p>The Greek monks are so called.</p> + +<p>[<i>Caloyer</i> is derived from the late Greek +<span title="kalo/gêros">καλόγηρος</span>, +"good in old age," through the Italian +<i>caloieso</i>. Hence the accent +on the last syllable.—<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_22" name="en_II_22"></a>22.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nature's volcanic Amphitheatre.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LI">Stanza li.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>The Chimariot mountains appear to have been volcanic.</p> + +<p>[By "Chimæra's Alps" Byron probably meant the Ceraunian +Mountains, which are "woody to the top, but disclose +some wide chasms of red rock" (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 73) +to the north of Jannina,—not the Acroceraunian (Chimariot) +Mountains, which run from north to south-west along the +coast of Mysia. "The walls of rock (which do not appear to +be volcanic) rise in tiers on every side, like the seats and +walls of an amphitheatre" (H. F. Tozer). The near distance +may have suggested an amphitheatre; but he is speaking of +the panorama which enlarged on his view, and uses the word +not graphically, but metaphorically, of the entire +"circle of the hills."]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_23" name="en_II_23"></a>23.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">Behold black Acheron!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LI">Stanza li.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p>Now called Kalamas.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_24" name="en_II_24"></a>24.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">In his white capote.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LII">Stanza lii.</a> line 7.</p> + +<p>Albanese cloak.</p> + +<p>[The <i>capote</i> +(feminine of <i>capot</i>, masculine diminutive of <i>cope</i>, cape) +was a long shaggy cloak or overcoat, with a +hood, worn by soldiers, etc.—<i>N. Eng. Dict</i>., art. "Capote."]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_25" name="en_II_25"></a>25.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LV">Stanza lv.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Anciently Mount Tomarus.</p> + +<p>["Mount Tomerit, or Tomohr," says Mr. Tozer, "lies +north-east of Tepalen, and therefore the sun could not set +behind it" (<i>Childe Harold</i>, 1885, p. 272). +But, writing to Drury, May 3, 1810, Byron says that +"he penetrated as far as Mount Tomarit." +Probably by "Tomarit" he does not +mean Mount Tomohr, which lies to the north-east of Berat, +but Mount Olytsika, ancient Tomaros +(<i>vide ante</i>, <a href="#Footnote_151">p. 132, note 1</a>), +which lies to the west of Janina, between the valley +of Tcharacovista and the sea. "Elle domine," writes M. +Carapanos, "toutes les autres montagnes qui l'entourent." +"Laos," Mr. Tozer thinks, "is a mere blunder for Aöus, the +Viosa (or Voioussa), which joins the Derapuli a few miles +south of Tepaleni, and flows under the walls of the city" +(<i>Dodone et ses Ruines</i>, 1878, p. 8). (For the Aöus and +approach to Tepeleni, see <i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 91.)]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_26" name="en_II_26"></a>26.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LV">Stanza lv.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>The river Laos was full at the time the author passed it; +and, immediately above Tepaleen, was to the eye as wide +as the Thames at Westminster; at least in the opinion of +the author and his fellow-traveller. In the summer it must +be much narrower. It certainly is the finest river in the +Levant; neither Achelous, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander, +nor Cayster, approached it in breadth or beauty.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_27" name="en_II_27"></a>27.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXVI">Stanza lxvi.</a> line 8.</p> + +<p>Alluding to the wreckers of Cornwall.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_28" name="en_II_28"></a>28.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The red wine circling fast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXI">Stanza lxxi.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>The Albanian Mussulmans do not abstain from wine, and, +indeed, very few of the others.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_29" name="en_II_29"></a>29.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Each Palikar his sabre from him cast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXI">Stanza lxxi.</a> line 7.</p> + +<p>Palikar, shortened when addressed to a single person, +from +<span title="Palikari">Παλικαρι</span> +[<span title="pallêka/ri">παλληκάρι</span>], +a general name for a soldier +amongst the Greeks and Albanese, who speak Romaic: it +means, properly, "a lad."</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_30" name="en_II_30"></a>30.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">While thus in concert, etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXII">Stanza lxxii.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>As a specimen of the Albanian or Arnaout dialect of +the Illyric, I here insert two of their most popular choral +songs, which are generally chanted in dancing by men or +women indiscriminately. The first words are merely a kind +of chorus without meaning, like some in our own and all +other languages.</p> + +<table style="width:100%;" summary="parallel translations"> +<tr> +<td style="width:50%;"> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Naciarura, popuso.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. Naciarura na civin<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ha pen derini ti hin.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. Ha pe uderi escrotini<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ti vin ti mar servetini.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. Caliriote me surme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ea ha pe pse dua tive.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> <br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">5. Buo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gi egem spirta esimiro.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">6. Caliriote vu le funde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ede vete tunde tunde.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">7. Caliriote me surme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ti mi put e poi mi le.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">8. Se ti puta citi mora<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Si mi ri ni veti udo gia.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> <br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">9. Va le ni il che cadale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Celo more, more celo.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">10. Plu hari ti tirete<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Plu huron cia pra seti.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</td> +<td> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Lo, Lo, I come, I come;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">be thou silent.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. I come, I run; open the<br /></span> +<span class="i4">door that I may enter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. Open the door by halves,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">that I may take my turban.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. Caliriotes<a href="#c2_30_A">[A]</a> with the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i4">eyes, open the gate that<br /></span> +<span class="i4">I may enter.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">5. Lo, Lo, I hear thee, my soul.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> <br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">6. An Arnaout girl, in costly<br /></span> +<span class="i4">garb, walks with graceful pride.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">7. Caliriot maid of the dark<br /></span> +<span class="i4">eyes, give me a kiss.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">8. If I have kissed thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">what hast thou gained?<br /></span> +<span class="i4">My soul is consumed with fire.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">9. Dance lightly, more<br /></span> +<span class="i4">gently, and gently still.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">10. Make not so much dust<br /></span> +<span class="i4">to destroy your embroidered hose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p><a id="c2_30_A">[A]</a> The Albanese, particularly the women, are frequently termed +"Caliriotes," for what reason I inquired in vain.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>The last stanza would puzzle a commentator: the men have certainly +buskins of the most beautiful texture, but the ladies (to whom the above +is supposed to be addressed) have nothing under their little yellow +boots and slippers but a well-turned and sometimes very white ankle. The +Arnaout girls are much handsomer than the Greeks, and their dress is far +more picturesque. They preserve their shape much longer also, from being +always in the open air. It is to be observed, that the Arnaout is not a +<i>written</i> language: the words of this song, therefore, as well as the +one which follows, are spelt according to their pronunciation. They are +copied by one who speaks and understands the dialect perfectly, and who +is a native of Athens.</p> + +<table style="width:100%;" summary="parallel translations"> +<tr> +<td style="width:50%;"> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. Ndi sefda tinde ulavossa<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Vettimi upri vi lofsa.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> <br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. Ah vaisisso mi privi lofse<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Si mi rini mi la vosse.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> <br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. Uti tasa roba stua<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Sitti eve tulati dua.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> <br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. Roba stinori ssidua<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Qu mi sini vetti dua.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">5. Qurmini dua civileni<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Roba ti siarmi tildi eni.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">6. Utara pisa vaisisso me<br /></span> +<span class="i4">simi rin ti hapti<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eti mi bire a piste si gui<br /></span> +<span class="i4">dendroi tiltati.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">7. Udi vura udorini udiri<br /></span> +<span class="i4">cicova cilti mora<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Udorini talti hollna u ede<br /></span> +<span class="i4">caimoni mora.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</td><td> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. I am wounded by thy<br /></span> +<span class="i3">love, and have loved<br /></span> +<span class="i3">but to scorch myself.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. Thou hast consumed me!<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Ah, maid! thou hast<br /></span> +<span class="i3">struck me to the heart.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. I have said I wish no<br /></span> +<span class="i3">dowry, but thine eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i3">and eyelashes.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">4. The accursed dowry I<br /></span> +<span class="i3">want not, but thee only.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">5. Give me thy charms, and<br /></span> +<span class="i3">let the portion feed the flames.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">6. I have loved thee, maid,<br /></span> +<span class="i3">with a sincere soul, but<br /></span> +<span class="i3">thou hast left me like<br /></span> +<span class="i3">a withered tree.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">7. If I have placed my hand<br /></span> +<span class="i3">on thy bosom, what<br /></span> +<span class="i3">have I gained? my<br /></span> +<span class="i3">hand is withdrawn, but<br /></span> +<span class="i3">retains the flame.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<p>I believe the two last stanzas, as they are in a different +measure, ought to belong to another ballad. An idea something +similar to the thought in the last lines was expressed +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span> +by Socrates, whose arm having come in contact with one of +his "<span title="hupokolpioi">ὑpokolpioi</span>," +Critobulus or Cleobulus, the philosopher +complained of a shooting pain as far as his shoulder for +some days after, and therefore very properly resolved to +teach his disciples in future without touching them.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_31" name="en_II_31"></a>31.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tambourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_Song1">Song, stanza 1,</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>These stanzas are partly taken from different Albanese +songs, as far as I was able to make them out by the exposition +of the Albanese in Romaic and Italian.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_32" name="en_II_32"></a>32.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Remember the moment when Previsa fell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_Song8">Song, stanza 8,</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>It was taken by storm from the French [October, 1798].</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_33" name="en_II_33"></a>33.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fair Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXIII">Stanza lxxiii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Some thoughts on this subject will be found in +the subjoined papers, pp. <a href="#Page_187">187</a>-208.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_34" name="en_II_34"></a>34.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Spirit of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXIV">Stanza lxxiv.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, has +still considerable remains: it was seized by Thrasybulus, +previous to the expulsion of the Thirty.</p> + +<p>[Byron and Hobhouse caught their first glance of Athens +from this spot, December 25, 1809. (See Byron's note.) +"The ruins," says Hobhouse, "are now called Bigla Castro, +or The Watchtower."]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_35" name="en_II_35"></a>35.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Receive the fiery Frank, her former guest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXVII">Stanza lxxvii.</a> line 4.</p> + +<p>When taken by the Latins, and retained for several years. +See Gibbon. [From A.D. 1204 to 1261.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_36" name="en_II_36"></a>36.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXVII">Stanza lxxvii.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p>Mecca and Medina were taken some time ago by the +Wahabees, a sect yearly increasing. [<i>Vide supra</i>, <a href="#Page_151">p. 151</a>.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_37" name="en_II_37"></a>37.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXXV">Stanza lxxxv.</a> line 3.</p> + +<p>On many of the mountains, particularly Liakura, the +snow never is entirely melted, notwithstanding the intense +heat of the summer; but I never saw it lie on the plains, +even in winter.</p> + +<p>[This feature of Greek scenery, in spring, may, now and +again, be witnessed in our own country in autumn—a blue +lake, bordered with summer greenery in the foreground, with +a rear-guard of "hills of snow" glittering in the October sunshine.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_38" name="en_II_38"></a>38.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Save where some solitary column mourns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above its prostrate brethren of the cave.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXXVI">Stanza lxxxvi.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Of Mount Pentelicus, from whence the marble was dug +that constructed the public edifices of Athens. The modern +name is Mount Mendeli. An immense cave, formed by the +quarries, still remains, and will till the end of time.</p> + +<p>[Mendeli is the ancient Pentelicus. "The white lines +marking the projecting veins" of marble are visible from +Athens (<i>Geography of Greece</i>, by H.F. Tozer, 1873, p. 129).]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_II_39" name="en_II_39"></a>39.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Marathon became a magic word.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#CII_LXXXIX">Stanza lxxxix.</a> line 7.</p> + +<p>"Siste Viator—heroa calcas!" was the epitaph on +the famous Count Merci;<a name="FNanchor_221" id="FNanchor_221"></a><a href="#Footnote_221" class="fnanchor">[221]</a>—what +then must be our feelings +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +when standing on the tumulus of the two hundred (Greeks) +who fell on Marathon? The principal barrow has recently +been opened by Fauvel: few or no relics, as vases, etc. +were found by the excavator. The plain of Marathon<a name="FNanchor_222" id="FNanchor_222"></a><a href="#Footnote_222" class="fnanchor">[222]</a> +was offered to me for sale at the sum of sixteen thousand +piastres, about nine hundred pounds! Alas!—"Expende<a name="FNanchor_223" id="FNanchor_223"></a><a href="#Footnote_223" class="fnanchor">[223]</a>—quot +<i>libras</i> in duce summo—invenies!"—was the dust of +Miltiades worth no more? It could scarcely have fetched +less if sold by <i>weight</i>.</p> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Papers Referred to by Note 33</span>.</h3> + + +<h4>I.<a name="FNanchor_224" id="FNanchor_224"></a><a href="#Footnote_224" class="fnanchor">[224]</a></h4> + +<p>Before I say anything about a city of which every body, +traveller or not, has thought it necessary to say something, +I will request Miss Owenson,<a name="FNanchor_225" id="FNanchor_225"></a><a href="#Footnote_225" class="fnanchor">[225]</a> +when she next borrows +an Athenian heroine for her four volumes, to have the goodness +to marry her to somebody more of a gentleman than a +"Disdar Aga" (who by the by is not an Aga), the most +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> +impolite of petty officers, the greatest patron of larceny<a name="FNanchor_226" id="FNanchor_226"></a><a href="#Footnote_226" class="fnanchor">[226]</a> +Athens ever saw (except Lord E.), and the unworthy occupant +of the Acropolis, on a handsome annual stipend of 150 +piastres (eight pounds sterling), out of which he has only to +pay his garrison, the most ill-regulated corps in the ill-regulated +Ottoman Empire. I speak it tenderly, seeing I +was once the cause of the husband of "Ida of Athens" +nearly suffering the bastinado; and because the said +"Disdar" is a turbulent husband, and beats his wife; so +that I exhort and beseech Miss Owenson to sue for a +separate maintenance in behalf of "Ida." Having premised +thus much, on a matter of such import to the readers of +romances, I may now leave Ida to mention her birthplace.</p> + +<p>Setting aside the magic of the name, and all those associations +which it would be pedantic and superfluous to recapitulate, +the very situation of Athens would render it the +favourite of all who have eyes for art or nature. The climate, +to me at least, appeared a perpetual spring; during eight +months I never passed a day without being as many hours +on horseback: rain is extremely rare, snow never lies in the +plains, and a cloudy day is an agreeable rarity. In Spain, +Portugal, and every part of the East which I visited, except +Ionia and Attica, I perceived no such superiority of climate +to our own; and at Constantinople, where I passed May, +June, and part of July (1810), you might "damn the climate, +and complain of spleen," five days out of seven.<a name="FNanchor_227" id="FNanchor_227"></a><a href="#Footnote_227" class="fnanchor">[227]</a></p> + + +<p>The air of the Morea is heavy and unwholesome, but the +moment you pass the isthmus in the direction of Megara +the change is strikingly perceptible. But I fear Hesiod will +still be found correct in his description of a Boeotian winter.<a name="FNanchor_228" id="FNanchor_228"></a><a href="#Footnote_228" class="fnanchor">[228]</a></p> + + +<p>We found at Livadia an "esprit fort" in a Greek bishop, +of all free-thinkers! This worthy hypocrite rallied his own +religion with great intrepidity (but not before his flock), and +talked of a mass as a "coglioneria."<a name="FNanchor_229" id="FNanchor_229"></a><a href="#Footnote_229" class="fnanchor">[229]</a> It was impossible to +think better of him for this; but, for a Boeotian, he was +brisk with all his absurdity. This phenomenon (with the +exception indeed of Thebes, the remains of Chæronea, the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +plain of Platea, Orchomenus, Livadia, and its nominal cave +of Trophonius) was the only remarkable thing we saw before +we passed Mount Cithæron.</p> + +<p>The fountain of Dirce turns a mill: at least my companion +(who, resolving to be at once cleanly and classical, +bathed in it) pronounced it to be the fountain of Dirce,<a name="FNanchor_230" id="FNanchor_230"></a><a href="#Footnote_230" class="fnanchor">[230]</a> and +any body who thinks it worth while may contradict him. +At Castri we drank of half a dozen streamlets, some not of +the purest, before we decided to our satisfaction which was +the true Castalian, and even that had a villanous twang, +probably from the snow, though it did not throw us into an +epic fever, like poor Dr. Chandler.<a name="FNanchor_231" id="FNanchor_231"></a><a href="#Footnote_231" class="fnanchor">[231]</a></p> + + +<p>From Fort Phyle, of which large remains still exist, the +plain of Athens, Pentelicus, Hymettus, the Ægean, and the +Acropolis, burst upon the eye at once; in my opinion, a +more glorious prospect than even Cintra or Istambol. Not +the view from the Troad, with Ida, the Hellespont, and the +more distant Mount Athos, can equal it, though so superior in extent.</p> + +<p>I heard much of the beauty of Arcadia, but excepting the +view from the Monastery of Megaspelion (which is inferior +to Zitza in a command of country), and the descent from the +mountains on the way from Tripolitza to Argos, Arcadia has +little to recommend it beyond the name.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Sternitur, et <i>dulces</i> moriens reminiscitur Argos."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Æneid</i>, x. 782.</p> + +<p>Virgil could have put this into the mouth of none but an +Argive, and (with reverence be it spoken) it does not deserve +the epithet. And if the Polynices of Statius, "In mediis +audit duo litora campis" (<i>Thebaidos</i>, i. 335), did actually +hear both shores in crossing the isthmus of Corinth, he had +better ears than have ever been worn in such a journey since.</p> + +<p>"Athens," says a celebrated topographer, "is still the most +polished city of Greece."<a name="FNanchor_232" id="FNanchor_232"></a><a href="#Footnote_232" class="fnanchor">[232]</a> Perhaps it may of <i>Greece</i>, but +not of the <i>Greeks</i>; for Joannina in Epirus is universally +allowed, amongst themselves, to be superior in the wealth, +refinement, learning, and dialect of its inhabitants. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +Athenians are remarkable for their cunning; and the lower +orders are not improperly characterised in that proverb, +which classes them with the "Jews of Salonica, and the +Turks of the Negropont."</p> + +<p>Among the various foreigners resident in Athens, French, +Italians, Germans, Ragusans, etc., there was never a difference +of opinion in their estimate of the Greek character, +though on all other topics they disputed with great acrimony.</p> + +<p>M. Fauvel, the French Consul, who has passed thirty years +principally at Athens, and to whose talents as an artist, and +manners as a gentleman, none who have known him can +refuse their testimony, has frequently declared in my hearing, +that the Greeks do not deserve to be emancipated; reasoning +on the grounds of their "national and individual +depravity!" while he forgot that such depravity is to be +attributed to causes which can only be removed by the +measure he reprobates.</p> + +<p>M. Roque,<a name="FNanchor_233" id="FNanchor_233"></a><a href="#Footnote_233" class="fnanchor">[233]</a> +a French merchant of respectability long +settled in Athens, asserted with the most amusing gravity, +"Sir, they are the same <i>canaille</i> that existed +<i>in the days of Themistocles!</i>" an alarming remark to the +"Laudator temporis acti." The ancients banished Themistocles; the +moderns cheat Monsieur Roque; thus great men have ever +been treated!</p> + +<p>In short, all the Franks who are fixtures, and most of the +Englishmen, Germans, Danes, etc., of passage, came over +by degrees to their opinion, on much the same grounds that +a Turk in England would condemn the nation by wholesale, +because he was wronged by his lacquey, and overcharged +by his washerwoman.</p> + +<p>Certainly it was not a little staggering when the Sieurs +Fauvel and Lusieri, the two greatest demagogues of the day, +who divide between them the power of Pericles and the +popularity of Cleon, and puzzle the poor Waywode with +perpetual differences, agreed in the utter condemnation, +"nulla virtute redemptum" (Juvenal, lib. i. <i>Sat.</i> iv. line 2), +of the Greeks in general, and of the Athenians in particular. +For my own humble opinion, I am loth to hazard it, knowing +as I do, that there be now in MS. no less than five tours +of the first magnitude, and of the most threatening aspect, +all in typographical array, by persons of wit and honour, +and regular common-place books: but, if I may say this, +without offence, it seems to me rather hard to declare so +positively and pertinaciously, as almost everybody has +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +declared, that the Greeks, because they are very bad, will +never be better.</p> + +<p>Eton and Sonnini<a name="FNanchor_234" id="FNanchor_234"></a><a href="#Footnote_234" class="fnanchor">[234]</a> have led us astray by their panegyrics +and projects; but, on the other hand, De Pauw and +Thornton<a name="FNanchor_235" id="FNanchor_235"></a><a href="#Footnote_235" class="fnanchor">[235]</a> have debased the Greeks beyond their demerits.</p> + + +<p>The Greeks will never be independent; they will never +be sovereigns as heretofore, and God forbid they ever +should! but they may be subjects without being slaves. +Our colonies are not independent, but they are free and +industrious, and such may Greece be hereafter.</p> + +<p>At present, like the Catholics of Ireland and the Jews +throughout the world, and such other cudgelled and heterodox +people, they suffer all the moral and physical ills that +can afflict humanity. Their life is a struggle against truth; +they are vicious in their own defence. They are so unused +to kindness, that when they occasionally meet with it they +look upon it with suspicion, as a dog often beaten snaps at +your fingers if you attempt to caress him. "They are +ungrateful, notoriously, abominably ungrateful!"—this is the +general cry. Now, in the name of Nemesis! for what are +they to be grateful? Where is the human being that ever +conferred a benefit on Greek or Greeks? They are to be +grateful to the Turks for their fetters, and to the Franks for +their broken promises and lying counsels. They are to be +grateful to the artist who engraves their ruins, and to the +antiquary who carries them away; to the traveller whose +janissary flogs them, and to the scribbler whose journal +abuses them. This is the amount of their obligations to +foreigners.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span></p> + +<h4>II.</h4> + + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Franciscan Convent, Athens</span>, <i>January</i> 23, 1811.<a name="FNanchor_236" id="FNanchor_236"></a><a href="#Footnote_236" class="fnanchor">[236]</a></p> + +<p>Amongst the remnants of the barbarous policy of the +earlier ages, are the traces of bondage which yet exist in +different countries; whose inhabitants, however divided in +religion and manners, almost all agree in oppression.</p> + +<p>The English have at last compassionated their negroes, +and under a less bigoted government, may probably one +day release their Catholic brethren; but the interposition +of foreigners alone can emancipate the Greeks, who, otherwise, +appear to have as small a chance of redemption from +the Turks, as the Jews have from mankind in general.</p> + +<p>Of the ancient Greeks we know more than enough; at +least the younger men of Europe devote much of their time +to the study of the Greek writers and history, which would +be more usefully spent in mastering their own. Of the +moderns, we are perhaps more neglectful than they deserve; +and while every man of any pretensions to learning is tiring +out his youth, and often his age, in the study of the language +and of the harangues of the Athenian demagogues in favour +of freedom, the real or supposed descendants of these sturdy +republicans are left to the actual tyranny of their masters, +although a very slight effort is required to strike off their +chains.</p> + +<p>To talk, as the Greeks themselves do, of their rising again +to their pristine superiority, would be ridiculous: as the rest +of the world must resume its barbarism, after reasserting +the sovereignty of Greece: but there seems to be no very +great obstacle, except in the apathy of the Franks, to their +becoming an useful dependency, or even a free state, with +a proper guarantee;—under correction, however, be it +spoken, for many and well-informed men doubt the practicability +even of this.</p> + +<p>The Greeks have never lost their hope, though they are +now more divided in opinion on the subject of their probable +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span> +deliverers. Religion recommends the Russians; but they +have twice been deceived and abandoned by that power, and +the dreadful lesson they received after the Muscovite desertion +in the Morea has never been forgotten. The French +they dislike; although the subjugation of the rest of Europe +will, probably, be attended by the deliverance of continental +Greece. The islanders look to the English for succour, as +they have very lately possessed themselves of the Ionian +republic, Corfu excepted.<a name="FNanchor_237" id="FNanchor_237"></a><a href="#Footnote_237" class="fnanchor">[237]</a> +But whoever appear with arms +in their hands will be welcome; and when that day arrives, +Heaven have mercy on the Ottomans; +they cannot expect it from the Giaours.</p> + +<p>But instead of considering what they have been, and +speculating on what they may be, let us look at them as they are.</p> + +<p>And here it is impossible to reconcile the contrariety of +opinions: some, particularly the merchants, decrying the +Greeks in the strongest language; others, generally travellers, +turning periods in their eulogy, and publishing very curious +speculations grafted on their former state, which can have +no more effect on their present lot, than the existence of the +Incas on the future fortunes of Peru.</p> + +<p>One very ingenious person terms them the "natural allies +of Englishmen;" another no less ingenious, will not allow +them to be the allies of anybody, and denies their very +descent from the ancients; a third, more ingenious than +either, builds a Greek empire on a Russian foundation, and +realises (on paper) all the chimeras of Catharine II. As to +the question of their descent, what can it import whether the +Mainotes<a name="FNanchor_238" id="FNanchor_238"></a><a href="#Footnote_238" class="fnanchor">[238]</a> +are the lineal Laconians or not? or the present +Athenians as indigenous as the bees of Hymettus, or as the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span> +grasshoppers, to which they once likened themselves? What +Englishman cares if he be of a Danish, Saxon, Norman, or +Trojan blood? or who, except a Welshman, is afflicted with +a desire of being descended from Caractacus?</p> + +<p>The poor Greeks do not so much abound in the good +things of this world, as to render even their claims to +antiquity an object of envy; it is very cruel, then, in Mr. +Thornton to disturb them in the possession of all that time +has left them; viz. their pedigree, of which they are the +more tenacious, as it is all they can call their own. It would +be worth while to publish together, and compare, the works +of Messrs. Thornton and De Pauw, Eton and Sonnini; +paradox on one side, and prejudice on the other. Mr. +Thornton conceives himself to have claims to public confidence +from a fourteen years' residence at Pera; perhaps +he may on the subject of the Turks, but this can give him +no more insight into the real state of Greece and her inhabitants, +than as many years spent in Wapping into that of the +Western Highlands.</p> + +<p>The Greeks of Constantinople live in Fanal;<a name="FNanchor_239" id="FNanchor_239"></a><a href="#Footnote_239" class="fnanchor">[239]</a> +and if Mr. +Thornton did not oftener cross the Golden Horn than his +brother merchants are accustomed to do, I should place no +great reliance on his information. I actually heard one of +these gentlemen boast of their little general intercourse with +the city, and assert of himself, with an air of triumph, that he +had been but four times at Constantinople in as many years.</p> + +<p>As to Mr. Thornton's voyages in the Black Sea with +Greek vessels, they gave him the same idea of Greece as a +cruise to Berwick in a Scotch smack would of Johnny Groat's +house. Upon what grounds then does he arrogate the right +of condemning by wholesale a body of men of whom he can +know little? It is rather a curious circumstance that Mr. +Thornton, who so lavishly dispraises Pouqueville on every +occasion of mentioning the Turks, has yet recourse to him +as authority on the Greeks, and terms him an impartial +observer. Now, Dr. Pouqueville is as little entitled to that +appellation as Mr. Thornton to confer it on him.</p> + +<p>The fact is, we are deplorably in want of information on the +subject of the Greeks, and in particular their literature; nor +is there any probability of our being better acquainted, till +our intercourse becomes more intimate, or their independence +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +confirmed. The relations of passing travellers are as little to +be depended on as the invectives of angry factors; but till +something more can be attained, we must be content with +the little to be acquired from similar sources.<a name="FNanchor_240" id="FNanchor_240"></a><a href="#Footnote_240" class="fnanchor">[240]</a></p> + + +<p>However defective these may be, they are preferable to +the parodoxes of men who have read superficially of the +ancients, and seen nothing of the moderns, such as De Pauw; +who, when he asserts that the British breed of +horses is ruined by Newmarket, and that the Spartans<a name="FNanchor_241" id="FNanchor_241"></a><a href="#Footnote_241" class="fnanchor">[241]</a> +were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span> +cowards in the field,<a name="FNanchor_242" id="FNanchor_242"></a><a href="#Footnote_242" class="fnanchor">[242]</a> +betrays an equal knowledge of English +horses and Spartan men. His "philosophical observations" +have a much better claim to the title of "poetical." It could +not be expected that he who so liberally condemns some of +the most celebrated institutions of the ancient, should have +mercy on the modern Greeks; and it fortunately happens, +that the absurdity of his hypothesis on their forefathers +refutes his sentence on themselves.</p> + +<p>Let us trust, then, that, in spite of the prophecies of De +Pauw, and the doubts of Mr. Thornton, there is a reasonable +hope of the redemption of a race of men, who, whatever may +be the errors of their religion and policy, have been amply +punished by three centuries and a half of captivity.</p> + + +<h4>III.<a name="FNanchor_243" id="FNanchor_243"></a><a href="#Footnote_243" class="fnanchor">[243]</a></h4> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Athens, Franciscan Convent</span>, <i>March</i> 17, 1811.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I must have some talk with this learned Theban."<a name="FNanchor_244" id="FNanchor_244"></a><a href="#Footnote_244" class="fnanchor">[244]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Some time after my return from Constantinople to this +city I received the thirty-first number of the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i><a name="FNanchor_245" id="FNanchor_245"></a><a href="#Footnote_245" class="fnanchor">[245]</a> as a great favour, +and certainly at this distance an +acceptable one, from the captain of an English frigate off +Salamis. In that number, Art. 3, containing the review of +a French translation of Strabo,<a name="FNanchor_246" id="FNanchor_246"></a><a href="#Footnote_246" class="fnanchor">[246]</a> there are introduced some +remarks on the modern Greeks and their literature, with a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span> +short account of Coray, a co-translator in the French +version. On those remarks I mean to ground a few observations; +and the spot where I now write will, I hope, be +sufficient excuse for introducing them in a work in some +degree connected with the subject. Coray, the most celebrated +of living Greeks, at least among the Franks, was born +at Scio (in the <i>Review</i>, Smyrna is stated, I have reason to +think, incorrectly), and besides the translation of Beccaria +and other works mentioned by the Reviewer, has published +a lexicon in Romaic and French, if I may trust the assurance +of some Danish travellers lately arrived from Paris; but the +latest we have seen here in French and Greek is that of +Gregory Zolikogloou.<a name="FNanchor_247" id="FNanchor_247"></a><a href="#Footnote_247" class="fnanchor">[247]</a> +Coray has recently been involved +in an unpleasant controversy with M. Gail,<a name="FNanchor_248" id="FNanchor_248"></a><a href="#Footnote_248" class="fnanchor">[248]</a> a Parisian +commentator and editor of some translations from the Greek +poets, in consequence of the Institute having awarded him +the prize for his version of Hippocrates' +"<span title="Peri\ y(da/tôn">Περὶ ὑδάτων</span>," etc., to +the disparagement, and consequently displeasure, of the said +Gail. To his exertions, literary and patriotic, great praise +is undoubtedly due; but a part of that praise ought not to +be withheld from the two brothers Zosimado (merchants +settled in Leghorn), who sent him to Paris and maintained +him, for the express purpose of elucidating the ancient, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> +adding to the modern, researches of his countrymen. Coray, +however, is not considered by his countrymen equal to some +who lived in the two last centuries; more particularly +Dorotheus of Mitylene,<a name="FNanchor_249" id="FNanchor_249"></a><a href="#Footnote_249" class="fnanchor">[249]</a> +whose Hellenic writings are so much +esteemed by the Greeks, that Meletius<a name="FNanchor_250" id="FNanchor_250"></a><a href="#Footnote_250" class="fnanchor">[250]</a> +terms him +"<span title="Meta\ to\n Thoukydi/dên kai\ Xenophô/nta a)/ristos E(llê/nôn">Μετὰ +τὸν Θουκυδίδην +καὶ Ξενοφώντα +ἄριστος +Ἑλλήνων</span>" +(p. 224, <i>Ecclesiastical History</i>, iv.).</p> + +<p>Panagiotes Kodrikas, the translator of Fontenelle, and +Kamarases,<a name="FNanchor_251" id="FNanchor_251"></a><a href="#Footnote_251" class="fnanchor">[251]</a> who translated Ocellus Lucanus on the +Universe into French, Christodoulus,<a name="FNanchor_252" id="FNanchor_252"></a><a href="#Footnote_252" class="fnanchor">[252]</a> and more particularly +Psalida,<a name="FNanchor_253" id="FNanchor_253"></a><a href="#Footnote_253" class="fnanchor">[253]</a> whom I have conversed with in Joannina, are also +in high repute among their literati. The last-mentioned +has published in Romaic and Latin a work on +<i>True Happiness</i>, dedicated to Catherine II. But Polyzois,<a name="FNanchor_254" id="FNanchor_254"></a><a href="#Footnote_254" class="fnanchor">[254]</a> who +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +is stated by the Reviewer to be the only modern except +Coray who has distinguished himself by a knowledge of +Hellenic, if he be the Polyzois Lampanitziotes of Yanina, +who has published a number of editions in Romaic, was +neither more nor less than an itinerant vender of books; +with the contents of which he had no concern beyond his +name on the title page, placed there to secure his property +in the publication; and he was, moreover, a man utterly +destitute of scholastic acquirements. As the name, however, +is not uncommon, some other Polyzois may have edited the +Epistles of Aristænetus.</p> + +<p>It is to be regretted that the system of continental blockade +has closed the few channels through which the Greeks +received their publications, particularly Venice and Trieste. +Even the common grammars for children are become too +dear for the lower orders. Amongst their original works the +Geography of Meletius, Archbishop of Athens, and a multitude +of theological quartos and poetical pamphlets, are to be +met with; their grammars and lexicons of two, three, and +four languages are numerous and excellent. Their poetry is +in rhyme. The most singular piece I have lately seen is a +satire in dialogue between a Russian, English, and French +traveller, and the Waywode of Wallachia (or Blackbey, as +they term him), an archbishop, a merchant,<a name="FNanchor_255" id="FNanchor_255"></a><a href="#Footnote_255" class="fnanchor">[255]</a> and Cogia +Bachi (or primate), in succession; to all of whom under the +Turks the writer attributes their present degeneracy. Their +songs are sometimes pretty and pathetic, but their tunes +generally unpleasing to the ear of a Frank; the best is the +famous +"<span title="Deu/te, pai~des tô~n E(llê/nôn">Δεύτε, +παῖδες τῶν +Ἑλλήνων</span>," +by the unfortunate +Riga.<a name="FNanchor_256" id="FNanchor_256"></a><a href="#Footnote_256" class="fnanchor">[256]</a> +But from a catalogue of more than sixty authors, now before +me, only fifteen can be found who have touched on any +theme except theology.</p> + +<p>I am intrusted with a commission by a Greek of Athens +named Marmarotouri to make arrangements, if possible, for +printing in London a translation of Barthelemi's <i>Anacharsis</i> +in Romaic, as he has no other opportunity, unless he +dispatches the MS. to Vienna by the Black Sea and Danube.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>The Reviewer mentions a school established at Hecatonesi,<a name="FNanchor_257" id="FNanchor_257"></a><a href="#Footnote_257" class="fnanchor">[257]</a> +and suppressed at the instigation of Sebastiani:<a name="FNanchor_258" id="FNanchor_258"></a><a href="#Footnote_258" class="fnanchor">[258]</a> +he means Cidonies, or, in Turkish, Haivali; a town on the +continent, where that institution for a hundred students and +three professors still exists. It is true that this establishment +was disturbed by the Porte, under the ridiculous +pretext that the Greeks were constructing a fortress instead +of a college; but on investigation, and the payment of some +purses to the Divan, it has been permitted to continue. The +principal professor, named Ueniamin (i.e. Benjamin), is stated +to be a man of talent, but a freethinker. He was born in +Lesbos, studied in Italy, and is master of Hellenic, Latin, +and some Frank languages: besides a smattering of the sciences.</p> + +<p>Though it is not my intention to enter farther on this +topic than may allude to the article in question, I cannot +but observe that the Reviewer's lamentation over the fall +of the Greeks appears singular, when he closes it with these +words: "<i>The change is to be attributed to their misfortunes +rather than to any 'physical degradation.'</i>" It may be true +that the Greeks are not physically degenerated, and that Constantinople +contained on the day when it changed masters +as many men of six feet and upwards as in the hour of +prosperity; but ancient history and modern politics instruct +us that something more than physical perfection is necessary +to preserve a state in vigour and independence; and the +Greeks, in particular, are a melancholy example of the near +connexion between moral degradation and national decay.</p> + +<p>The Reviewer mentions a plan "<i>we believe</i>" by Potemkin<a name="FNanchor_259" id="FNanchor_259"></a><a href="#Footnote_259" class="fnanchor">[259]</a> +for the purification of the Romaic; and I have endeavoured +in vain to procure any tidings or traces of its existence. +There was an academy in St. Petersburg for the Greeks; +but it was suppressed by Paul, and has not been revived by +his successor.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span></p> + +<p>There is a slip of the pen, and it can only be a slip of the +pen, in p. 58, No. 31, of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, where these +words occur: "We are told that when the capital of the +East yielded to <i>Solyman</i>"—It may be presumed that this +last word will, in a future edition, be altered to Mahomet II.<a name="FNanchor_260" id="FNanchor_260"></a><a href="#Footnote_260" class="fnanchor">[260]</a> +The "ladies of Constantinople," it seems, at that period spoke +a dialect, "which would not have disgraced the lips of an +Athenian." I do not know how that might be, but am sorry +to say that the ladies in general, and the Athenians in +particular, are much altered; being far from choice either +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span>in their dialect or expressions, as the whole Attic race are +barbarous to a proverb:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<span title="Ô) A)thê~nai, prô/tê chô/ra">Ὠ Ἀθῆναι, πρώτη χώρα</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="Ti/ gaida/rous tre/pheis tô/ra">Τί γαιδάρους τρέφεις τώρα</span>;"<a name="FNanchor_261" id="FNanchor_261"></a><a href="#Footnote_261" class="fnanchor">[261]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In Gibbon, vol. x. p. 161, is the following sentence:—"The +vulgar dialect of the city was gross and barbarous, though +the compositions of the church and palace sometimes affected +to copy the purity of the Attic models." Whatever may be +asserted on the subject, it is difficult to conceive that the +"ladies of Constantinople," in the reign of the last Cæsar, +spoke a purer dialect than Anna Comnena<a name="FNanchor_262" id="FNanchor_262"></a><a href="#Footnote_262" class="fnanchor">[262]</a> wrote, three +centuries before: and those royal pages are not esteemed +the best models of composition, although the princess +<span title="glô~ttan ei~)chen A)KRIBÔE A)ttikisou/san">γλῶτταν +εἶχεν ἈΚΡΙΒΩΕ +Ἀττικιϛούσαν</span>.<a name="FNanchor_263" id="FNanchor_263"></a><a href="#Footnote_263" class="fnanchor">[263]</a> +In the Fanal, and in Yanina, +the best Greek is spoken: in the latter there is a flourishing +school under the direction of Psalida.</p> + +<p>There is now in Athens a pupil of Psalida's, who is making +a tour of observation through Greece: he is intelligent, and +better educated than a fellow-commoner of most colleges. +I mention this as a proof that the spirit of inquiry is not +dormant among the Greeks.</p> + +<p>The Reviewer mentions Mr. Wright,<a name="FNanchor_264" id="FNanchor_264"></a><a href="#Footnote_264" class="fnanchor">[264]</a> the author of the +beautiful poem <i>Horæ Ionicæ</i>, as qualified to give details +of these nominal Romans and degenerate Greeks; and also +of their language: but Mr. Wright, though a good poet and +an able man, has made a mistake where he states the +Albanian dialect of the Romaic to approximate nearest +to the Hellenic; for the Albanians speak a Romaic as +notoriously corrupt as the Scotch of Aberdeenshire, or the +Italian of Naples. Yanina, (where, next to the Fanal, the +Greek is purest,) although the capital of Ali Pacha's dominions, +is not in Albania, but Epirus; and beyond Delvinachi in +Albania Proper up to Argyrocastro and Tepaleen (beyond +which I did not advance) they speak worse Greek than even +the Athenians. I was attended for a year and a half by two +of these singular mountaineers, whose mother tongue is +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span> +Illyric, and I never heard them or their countrymen (whom +I have seen, not only at home, but to the amount of twenty +thousand in the army of Vely Pacha<a name="FNanchor_265" id="FNanchor_265"></a><a href="#Footnote_265" class="fnanchor">[265]</a>) praised for their +Greek, but often laughed at for their provincial barbarisms.</p> + +<p>I have in my possession about twenty-five letters, amongst +which some from the Bey of Corinth, written to me by +Notaras, the Cogia Bachi, and others by the dragoman of +the Caimacam<a name="FNanchor_266" id="FNanchor_266"></a><a href="#Footnote_266" class="fnanchor">[266]</a> of the Morea (which last governs in Vely +Pacha's absence), are said to be favourable specimens of +their epistolary style. I also received some at Constantinople +from private persons, written in a most hyperbolical +style, but in the true antique character.</p> + +<p>The Reviewer proceeds, after some remarks on the tongue +in its past and present state, to a paradox (page 59) on the +great mischief the knowledge of his own language has done +to Coray, who, it seems, is less likely to understand the +ancient Greek, because he is perfect master of the modern! +This observation follows a paragraph, recommending, in +explicit terms, the study of the Romaic, as "a powerful +auxiliary," not only to the traveller and foreign merchant, +but also to the classical scholar; in short, to every body +except the only person who can be thoroughly acquainted +with its uses; and by a parity of reasoning, our own language +is conjectured to be probably more attainable by "foreigners" +than by ourselves! Now, I am inclined to think, that a +Dutch Tyro in our tongue (albeit himself of Saxon blood) +would be sadly perplexed with "Sir Tristram,"<a name="FNanchor_267" id="FNanchor_267"></a><a href="#Footnote_267" class="fnanchor">[267]</a> or any other +given "Auchinleck MS." with or without a grammar or +glossary; and to most apprehensions it seems evident that +none but a native can acquire a competent, far less complete, +knowledge of our obsolete idioms. We may give the critic +credit for his ingenuity, but no more believe him than we +do Smollett's Lismahago,<a name="FNanchor_268" id="FNanchor_268"></a><a href="#Footnote_268" class="fnanchor">[268]</a> who maintains that the purest +English is spoken in Edinburgh. That Coray may err is +very possible; but if he does, the fault is in the man rather +than in his mother tongue, which is, as it ought to be, of +the greatest aid to the native student.—Here the Reviewer +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> +proceeds to business on Strabo's translators, and here I close +my remarks.</p> + +<p>Sir W. Drummond, Mr. Hamilton, Lord Aberdeen, Dr. +Clarke, Captain Leake, Mr. Gell, Mr. Walpole,<a name="FNanchor_269" id="FNanchor_269"></a><a href="#Footnote_269" class="fnanchor">[269]</a> and many +others now in England, have all the requisites to furnish +details of this fallen people. The few observations I have +offered I should have left where I made them, had not the +article in question, and above all the spot where I read it, +induced me to advert to those pages, which the advantage of +my present situation enabled me to clear, or at least to make +the attempt.</p> + +<p>I have endeavoured to waive the personal feelings which +rise in despite of me in touching upon any part of the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i>; not from a wish to conciliate the favour +of its writers, or to cancel the remembrance of a syllable +I have formerly published, but simply from a sense of the +impropriety of mixing up private resentments with a +disquisition of the present kind, and more particularly at this +distance of time and place.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Additional Note on the Turks</span>.</h3> + +<p>The difficulties of travelling in Turkey have been much +exaggerated, or rather have considerably diminished, of late +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> +years. The Mussulmans have been beaten into a kind of +sullen civility very comfortable to voyagers.</p> + +<p>It is hazardous to say much on the subject of Turks and +Turkey; since it is possible to live amongst them twenty +years without acquiring information, at least from themselves. +As far as my own slight experience carried me, I have no +complaint to make; but am indebted for many civilities +(I might almost say for friendship), and much hospitality, to +Ali Pacha, his son Vely Pacha of the Morea, and several +others of high rank in the provinces. Suleyman Aga, late +Governor of Athens, and now of Thebes, was a <i>bon vivant</i>, +and as social a being as ever sat cross-legged at a tray or a +table. During the carnival, when our English party were masquerading, +both himself and his successor were more happy +to "receive masks" than any dowager in Grosvenor-square.<a name="FNanchor_270" id="FNanchor_270"></a><a href="#Footnote_270" class="fnanchor">[270]</a></p> + + +<p>On one occasion of his supping at the convent, his friend +and visitor, the Cadi<a name="FNanchor_271" id="FNanchor_271"></a><a href="#Footnote_271" class="fnanchor">[271]</a> of Thebes, was carried from table +perfectly qualified for any club in Christendom; while the +worthy Waywode himself triumphed in his fall.</p> + +<p>In all money transactions with the Moslems, I ever found +the strictest honour, the highest disinterestedness. In transacting +business with them, there are none of those dirty +peculations, under the name of interest, difference of exchange, +commission, etc., etc., uniformly found in applying to a Greek +consul to cash bills, even on the first houses in Pera.</p> + +<p>With regard to presents, an established custom in the +East, you will rarely find yourself a loser; as one worth +acceptance is generally returned by another of similar value—a +horse, or a shawl.</p> + +<p>In the capital and at court the citizens and courtiers are +formed in the same school with those of Christianity; but +there does not exist a more honourable, friendly, and high-spirited +character than the true Turkish provincial Aga, or +Moslem country gentleman. It is not meant here to designate +the governors of towns, but those Agas who, by a kind +of feudal tenure, possess lands and houses, of more or less +extent, in Greece and Asia Minor.</p> + +<p>The lower orders are in as tolerable discipline as the +rabble in countries with greater pretensions to civilisation. +A Moslem, in walking the streets of our country-towns, would +be more incommoded in England than a Frank in a similar +situation in Turkey. Regimentals are the best travelling dress.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span></p> + +<p>The best accounts of the religion and different sects of +Islamism may be found in D'Ohsson's<a name="FNanchor_272" id="FNanchor_272"></a><a href="#Footnote_272" class="fnanchor">[272]</a> French; of their +manners, etc., perhaps in Thornton's English. The Ottomans, +with all their defects, are not a people to be despised. +Equal at least to the Spaniards, they are superior to the +Portuguese. If it be difficult to pronounce what they are, +we can at least say what they are <i>not</i>: +they are <i>not</i> treacherous, +they are <i>not</i> cowardly, they do <i>not</i> burn heretics, they +are <i>not</i> assassins, nor has an enemy advanced to <i>their</i> +capital. They are faithful to their sultan till he becomes +unfit to govern, and devout to their God without an inquisition. +Were they driven from St. Sophia to-morrow, and +the French or Russians enthroned in their stead, it would +become a question whether Europe would gain by the exchange. +England would certainly be the loser.</p> + +<p>With regard to that ignorance of which they are so +generally, and sometimes justly accused, it may be doubted, +always excepting France and England, in what useful points +of knowledge they are excelled by other nations. Is it in the +common arts of life? In their manufactures? Is a Turkish +sabre inferior to a Toledo? or is a Turk worse clothed or +lodged, or fed and taught, than a Spaniard? Are their +Pachas worse educated than a Grandee? or an Effendi<a name="FNanchor_273" id="FNanchor_273"></a><a href="#Footnote_273" class="fnanchor">[273]</a> +than a Knight of St. Jago? I think not.</p> + + +<p>I remember Mahmout, the grandson of Ali Pacha, asking +whether my fellow-traveller and myself were in the upper or +lower House of Parliament. Now, this question from a boy +of ten years old proved that his education had not been +neglected. It may be doubted if an English boy at that age +knows the difference of the Divan from a College of Dervises; +but I am very sure a Spaniard does not. How little Mahmout, +surrounded as he had been entirely by his Turkish +tutors, had learned that there was such a thing as a Parliament, +it were useless to conjecture, unless we suppose that his +instructors did not confine his studies to the Koran.</p> + +<p>In all the mosques there are schools established, which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> +are very regularly attended; and the poor are taught without +the church of Turkey being put into peril. I believe the +system is not yet printed (though there is such a thing as a +Turkish press, and books printed on the late military institution +of the Nizam Gedidd);<a name="FNanchor_274" id="FNanchor_274"></a><a href="#Footnote_274" class="fnanchor">[274]</a> nor have I heard whether the +Mufti and the Mollas have subscribed, or the Caimacan and +the Tefterdar taken the alarm, for fear the ingenuous youth +of the turban should be taught not to "pray to God their way." +The Greeks also—a kind of Eastern Irish papists—have +a college of their own at Maynooth,—no, at Haivali; +where the heterodox receive much the same kind of countenance +from the Ottoman as the Catholic college from the +English legislature. Who shall then affirm that the Turks +are ignorant bigots, when they thus evince the exact proportion +of Christian charity which is tolerated in the most +prosperous and orthodox of all possible kingdoms? But +though they allow all this, they will not suffer the Greeks to +participate in their privileges: no, let them fight their battles, +and pay their haratch (taxes), be drubbed in this world, and +damned in the next. And shall we then emancipate our +Irish Helots? Mahomet forbid! We should then be bad +Mussulmans, and worse Christians: at present we unite the +best of both—jesuitical faith, and something not much +inferior to Turkish toleration.</p> + +<hr class="tb" /> + +<h3><span class="smcap">Appendix</span>.</h3> + +<p>Amongst an enslaved people, obliged to have recourse to +foreign presses even for their books of religion, it is less to be +wondered at that we find so few publications on general +subjects than that we find any at all. The whole number of +the Greeks, scattered up and down the Turkish empire and +elsewhere, may amount, at most, to three millions; and yet, +for so scanty a number, it is impossible to discover any +nation with so great a proportion of books and their authors +as the Greeks of the present century. "Aye," but say the +generous advocates of oppression, who, while they assert +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span> +the ignorance of the Greeks, wish to prevent them from dispelling +it, "ay, but these are mostly, if not all, ecclesiastical +tracts, and consequently good for nothing." Well! and pray +what else can they write about? It is pleasant enough to +hear a Frank, particularly an Englishman, who may abuse +the government of his own country; or a Frenchman, who +may abuse every government except his own, and who may +range at will over every philosophical, religious, scientific, +sceptical, or moral subject, sneering at the Greek legends. +A Greek must not write on politics, and cannot touch on +science for want of instruction; if he doubts he is excommunicated +and damned; therefore his countrymen are not +poisoned with modern philosophy; and as to morals, thanks +to the Turks! there are no such things. What then is left +him, if he has a turn for scribbling? Religion and holy +biography; and it is natural enough that those who have so +little in this life should look to the next. It is no great +wonder then, that in a catalogue now before me of fifty-five +Greek writers, many of whom were lately living, not above +fifteen should have touched on anything but religion. The +catalogue alluded to is contained in the twenty-sixth chapter +of the fourth volume of Meletius' <i>Ecclesiastical History</i>.</p> + +<p>[The above forms a preface to an Appendix, headed +"Remarks on the Romaic or Modern Greek Language, with +Specimens and Translations," which was printed at the end +of the volume, after the "Poems," in the first and successive +editions of <i>Childe Harold</i>. It contains +(1) a "List of Romaic Authors;" +(2) the "Greek War-Song," +<span title="Deu~te, Pai~des tô~n E(llê/nôn">Δεῦτε, +Παῖδες τῶν +Ἑλλήνων</span>; +(3) "Romaic Extracts," of which the first, +"a Satire in dialogue" (<i>vide</i> <a href="#Page_196">Note III.</a> <i>supra</i>), +is translated (see <i>Epigrams, etc.</i>, vol. vi. of the present issue); +(4) scene from +<span title="O Kaphene\s">Ο Καφενὲς</span> +(the Café), translated from the Italian of Goldoni +by Spiridion Vlanti, with a "Translation;" +(5) "Familiar Dialogues" in Romaic and English; +(6) "Parallel Passages from St. John's Gospel;" +(7) "The Inscriptions at Orchomenos from Meletius" +(see <i>Travels in Albania, etc.</i>, i. 224); +(8) the "Prospectus of a Translation of Anacharsis +into Romaic, by my Romaic master, Marmarotouri, who +wished to publish it in England;" +(9) "The Lord's Prayer in Romaic" and in Greek.</p> + +<p>The Excursus, which is remarkable rather for the evidence +which it affords of Byron's industry and zeal for acquiring +knowledge, than for the value or interest of the subject-matter, +has been omitted from the present issue. The +"Remarks," etc., are included in the "Appendix" to +<i>Lord Byron's Poetical Works</i>, 1891, pp. 792-797. +(See, too, letter +to Dallas, September 21, 1811: <i>Letters</i>, ii. 43.)]</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_202" id="Footnote_202"></a><a href="#FNanchor_202"><span class="label">[202]</span></a> +<a id="Note_166" name="Note_166">{166}</a> ["Owls and serpents" are taken from +<i>Isa.</i> xiii. 21, 22; +"foxes" from <i>Lam.</i> v. 18, "Zion is desolate, the foxes walk +upon it."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_203" id="Footnote_203"></a><a href="#FNanchor_203"><span class="label">[203]</span></a> +[For Herr Gropius, <i>vide post</i>, <a href="#en_II_6">note 6</a>.] +(<i>see also its <a href="#Footnote_211">footnote</a>—Transcriber</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_204" id="Footnote_204"></a><a href="#FNanchor_204"><span class="label">[204]</span></a> [The Parthenon was converted into a church in the sixth +century by Justinian, and dedicated to the <i>Divine Wisdom</i>. +About 1460 the church was turned into a mosque. After the +siege in 1687 the Turks erected a smaller mosque within the +original enclosure. "The only relic of the mosque dedicated +by Mohammed the Conqueror (1430-1481) is the base of the +minaret ... at the south-west corner of the Cella" +(<i>Handbook for Greece</i>, p. 319).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_205" id="Footnote_205"></a><a href="#FNanchor_205"><span class="label">[205]</span></a> <a id="Note_168" name="Note_168">{168}</a> ["Don Battista Lusieri, better known as Don Tita," +was born at Naples. He followed Sir William Hamilton +"to Constantinople, in 1799, whence he removed to Athens." +"It may be said of Lusieri, as of Claude Lorraine, +'If he be not the <i>poet</i>, he is the historian of +nature.'"—<i>Travels, etc</i>., by +E. D. Clarke, 1810-1823, Part II. sect. ii. p. 469, note. +See, too, <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 455.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_206" id="Footnote_206"></a><a href="#FNanchor_206"><span class="label">[206]</span></a> ["Mirandum in modum (canes venaticos diceres) ita +odorabantur omnia et pervestigabant, ut, ubi quidque esset, +aliqua ratione invenirent" (Cicero, <i>In Verrem</i>, Act. II. lib. iv. 13). +Verres had two <i>finders</i>: Tlepolemus a worker in wax, and +Hiero a painter. +(See <i>Introduction to The Curse of Minerva: Poems</i>, +1898, i. 455.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_207" id="Footnote_207"></a><a href="#FNanchor_207"><span class="label">[207]</span></a> [M. Fauvel was born in Burgundy, circ. 1754. In 1787 +he was attached to the suite of the Count Choiseul-Gouffier, +French Ambassador at Constantinople, and is said to have +prepared designs and illustrations for his patron's <i>Voyage +Pittoresque de la Grèce</i>, vol. i. 1787, vol. ii. 1809. He settled +at Athens, and was made vice-consul by the French Government. +In his old age, after more than forty years' service +at Athens, he removed finally to Smyrna, where he was +appointed consul-general.—<i>Biographic des Contemporains</i> +(Rabbe), 1834, art. "(N.) Fauvel."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_208" id="Footnote_208"></a><a href="#FNanchor_208"><span class="label">[208]</span></a> +<a id="Note_169" name="Note_169">{169}</a> In all Attica, if we except Athens itself and Marathon, +there is no scene more interesting than Cape Colonna.<a href="#en_208_A">[A]</a> To +the antiquary and artist, sixteen columns are an inexhaustible +source of observation and design; to the philosopher, the +supposed scene of some of Plato's conversations will not be +unwelcome; and the traveller will be struck with the beauty +of the prospect over "Isles that crown the Ægean deep:" +but, for an Englishman, Colonna has yet an additional +interest, as the actual spot of Falconer's<a href="#en_208_B">[B]</a> shipwreck. Pallas +and Plato are forgotten in the recollection of Falconer and +Campbell:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here in the dead of night, by Lonna's steep,<a href="#en_208_C">[C]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The seaman's cry was heard along the deep."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +This temple of Minerva may be seen at sea from a great +distance. In two journeys which I made, and one voyage +to Cape Colonna, the view from either side, by land, was less +striking than the approach from the isles. In our second +land excursion, we had a narrow escape from a party of +Mainotes, concealed in the caverns beneath. We were told +afterwards, by one of their prisoners, subsequently ransomed, +that they were deterred from attacking us by the appearance +of my two Albanians: conjecturing very sagaciously, +but falsely, that we had a complete guard of these Arnaouts +at hand, they remained stationary, and thus saved our +party, which was too small to have opposed any effectual +resistance. Colonna is no less a resort of painters +than of pirates; there +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The hireling artist plants his paltry desk,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And makes degraded nature picturesque."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +See Hodgson's <i>Lady Jane Grey</i>, etc.<a href="#en_208_D">[D]</a>[1809, p. 214]. +</p><p> +But there Nature, with the aid of Art, has done that for +herself. I was fortunate enough to engage a very superior +German artist; and hope to renew my acquaintance with +this and many other Levantine scenes, by the arrival of his +performances. +</p><p> +<a id="en_208_A">[A]</a> [This must have taken place in 1811, after Hobhouse +returned to England.—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 373, note.] +</p><p> +<a id="en_208_B">[B]</a> [William Falconer (1732-1769), second mate of a vessel +in the Levant trade, was wrecked between Alexandria and +Venice. Only three of the crew survived. His poem, <i>The +Shipwreck</i>, was published in 1762. It was dedicated to the +Duke of York, and through his intervention he was "rated +as a midshipman in the Royal Navy." Either as author or +naval officer, he came to be on intimate terms with John +Murray the first, who thought highly of his abilities, and +offered him (October 16, 1768) a partnership in his new +bookselling business in Fleet Street. In September, 1769, +he embarked for India as purser of the <i>Aurora</i> frigate, +which touched at the Cape, but never reached her destination. +See <i>Memoir</i>, by J. S. Clarke; +<i>The Shipwreck</i>, 1804, pp. viii.-xlvi.] +</p><p> +<a id="en_208_C">[C]</a> <i>Yes, at the dead of night</i>, etc.—<i>Pleasures of Hope</i>, +lines 149, 150. +</p><p> +<a id="en_208_D">[D]</a> [The quotation is from Hodgson's +"Lines on a Ruined Abbey in a Romantic Country," +<i>vide ante</i>, Canto I., <a href="#Footnote_27">p. 20, note</a>.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_209" id="Footnote_209"></a><a href="#FNanchor_209"><span class="label">[209]</span></a> <a id="Note_171" name="Note_171">{171}</a> +["It was, however, during our stay in the place, to be +lamented that a war, more than civil, was raging on the +subject of Lord Elgin's pursuits in Greece, and had enlisted +all the French settlers and the principal Greeks on one side +or the other of the controversy. The factions of Athens +were renewed."—<i>Travels in Albania, etc.</i>, i. 243.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_210" id="Footnote_210"></a><a href="#FNanchor_210"><span class="label">[210]</span></a> This word, in the cant language, +signifies thieving.—Fielding's +<i>History of Jonathan Wild</i>, i. 3, note.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_211" id="Footnote_211"></a><a href="#FNanchor_211"><span class="label">[211]</span></a> This Sr. Gropius was employed by a noble Lord for the +sole purpose of sketching, in which he excels: but I am sorry +to say, that he has, through the abused sanction of that most +respectable name, been treading at humble distance in the +steps of Sr. Lusieri.—A shipful of his trophies was detained, +and I believe confiscated, at Constantinople in 1810. I am +most happy to be now enabled to state, that "this was not +in his bond;" that he was employed solely as a painter, and +that his noble patron disavows all connection with him, except +as an artist. If the error in the first and second edition of +this poem has given the noble Lord a moment's pain, I am +very sorry for it: Sr. Gropius has assumed for years the +name of his agent; and though I cannot much condemn +myself for sharing in the mistake of so many, I am happy in +being one of the first to be undeceived. Indeed, I have as +much pleasure in contradicting this as I felt regret in stating +it.—[<i>Note to Third Edition.</i>] +</p><p> +[According to Bryant's <i>Dict. of Painters</i>, and other biographical +dictionaries, Karl Wilhelm Gropius (whom Lamartine, +in his <i>Voyage en Orient</i>, identifies with the Gropius +"injustement accusé par lord Byron dans ses notes mordantes +sur Athènes") was born at Brunswick, in 1793, +travelled in Italy and Greece, making numerous landscape +and architectural sketches, and finally settled at Berlin in +1827, where he opened a diorama, modelled on that of +Daguerre, "in connection with a permanent exhibition of +painting.... He was considered the first wit in Berlin, +where he died in 1870." In 1812, when Byron wrote his +note to the third edition of <i>Childe Harold</i>, Gropius must +have been barely of age, and the statement "that he has for +years assumed the name of his (a noble Lord's) agent" is +somewhat perplexing.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_212" id="Footnote_212"></a><a href="#FNanchor_212"><span class="label">[212]</span></a> <a id="Note_173" name="Note_173">{173}</a> [George Castriota (1404-1467) +(Scanderbeg, or Scander Bey), +the youngest son of an Albanian chieftain, was sent +with his four brothers as hostage to the Sultan Amurath II. +After his father's death in 1432 he carried on a protracted +warfare with the Turks, and finally established the independence +of Albania. "His personal strength and address +were such as to make his prowess in the field resemble that +of a knight of romance." He died at Lissa, in the Gulf of +Venice, and when the island was taken by Mohammed II., +the Turks are said to have dug up his bones and hung +them round their necks, either as charms against wounds or +"amulets to transfer his courage to themselves." +(Hofmann's <i>Lexicon Universale</i>; +Gorton's <i>Biog. Dict.</i>, art. "Scanderbeg.")]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_213" id="Footnote_213"></a><a href="#FNanchor_213"><span class="label">[213]</span></a> <a id="Note_174" name="Note_174">{174}</a> [William Martin Leake (1777-1860), +traveller and numismatist, +published (<i>inter alia</i>) <i>Researches in Greece</i>, in 1814. +He was "officially resident" in Albania, February, 1809-March, +1810.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_214" id="Footnote_214"></a><a href="#FNanchor_214"><span class="label">[214]</span></a> [<i>A Journey through Albania during the Years 1809-10</i>, +London, 1812.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_215" id="Footnote_215"></a><a href="#FNanchor_215"><span class="label">[215]</span></a> <a id="Note_175" name="Note_175">{175}</a> [The inhabitants of Albania, +of the Shkipetar race, consist +of two distinct branches: the Gueghs, who belong to the +north, and are for the most part Catholics; and the Tosks +of the south, who are generally Mussulmans (Finlay's +<i>History of Greece</i>, i. 35).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GG" id="Footnote_GG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GG"><span class="label">[gg]</span></a> <i>I laughed so much as to induce a violent perspiration +to which ... I attribute my present individuality</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_216" id="Footnote_216"></a><a href="#FNanchor_216"><span class="label">[216]</span></a> <a id="Note_176" name="Note_176">{176}</a> [The mayor of the village; in Greek, +<span title="proestos">προεστός</span>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_217" id="Footnote_217"></a><a href="#FNanchor_217"><span class="label">[217]</span></a> [The father of the Consulina Teodora Macri, +and grandfather of the "Maid of Athens."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_218" id="Footnote_218"></a><a href="#FNanchor_218"><span class="label">[218]</span></a> [<i>Tristram Shandy</i>, 1775, iv. 44.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_219" id="Footnote_219"></a><a href="#FNanchor_219"><span class="label">[219]</span></a> [See <i>Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron</i>, +1824, p.64.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_220" id="Footnote_220"></a><a href="#FNanchor_220"><span class="label">[220]</span></a> <a id="Note_177" name="Note_177">{177}</a> [Compare <i>The Waltz</i>, line 125—"O say, +shall dull <i>Romaika's</i> heavy sound." <i>Poems</i>, 1898, i. 492.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_221" id="Footnote_221"></a><a href="#FNanchor_221"><span class="label">[221]</span></a> <a id="Note_186" name="Note_186">{186}</a> +[François Mercy de Lorraine, who fought against the +Protestants in the Thirty Years' War, was mortally wounded +at the battle of Nordlingen, August 3, 1645.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_222" id="Footnote_222"></a><a href="#FNanchor_222"><span class="label">[222]</span></a> <a id="Note_187" name="Note_187">{187}</a> [Byron and Hobhouse visited Marathon, January 25, +1810. The unconsidered trifle of the "plain" must have +been offered to Byron during his second residence at Athens, +in 1811.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_223" id="Footnote_223"></a><a href="#FNanchor_223"><span class="label">[223]</span></a> ["Expende Annibalem—quot libras," etc. +(Juvenal, x. 147), is the motto of the +<i>Ode to Napoleon Buonaparte</i>, which +was written April 10, 1814.—<i>Journal</i>, 1814; +<i>Life</i>, p. 325.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_224" id="Footnote_224"></a><a href="#FNanchor_224"><span class="label">[224]</span></a> [Compare letter to Hodgson, September 25, 1811: +<i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 45.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_225" id="Footnote_225"></a><a href="#FNanchor_225"><span class="label">[225]</span></a> [Miss Owenson (Sydney, Lady Morgan), 1783-1859, +published her <i>Woman, or Ida of Athens</i>, in 4 vols., in 1812. +Writing to Murray, February 20, 1818, Byron alludes to the +"cruel work" which an article +(attributed to Croker but, probably, written by Hookham Frere) +had made with her <i>France</i> +in the <i>Quarterly Review</i> (vol. xvii. p. 260); +and in a note to <i>The Two Foscari</i>, act iii. sc. 1, +he points out that his description +of Venice as an "Ocean-Rome" had been anticipated +by Lady Morgan in her "fearless and excellent work +upon Italy." The play was completed July 9, 1821, but +the work containing the phrase, "Rome of the Ocean," had +not been received till August 16 (see, too, his letter to +Murray, August 23, 1821). His conviction of the excellence +of Lady Morgan's work was, perhaps strengthened by her +outspoken eulogium.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_226" id="Footnote_226"></a><a href="#FNanchor_226"><span class="label">[226]</span></a> <a id="Note_188" name="Note_188">{188}</a> [For the Disdar's extortions, +see <i>Travels in Albania</i>, i. 244.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_227" id="Footnote_227"></a><a href="#FNanchor_227"><span class="label">[227]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">["The poor ...when once abroad,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grow sick, and damn the climate like a lord."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Pope, <i>Imit. of Horace</i>, Ep. 1, lines 159, 160.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_228" id="Footnote_228"></a><a href="#FNanchor_228"><span class="label">[228]</span></a> [<i>Works and Days</i>, v. 493, <i>et seq.; +Hesiod. Carm.</i>, C. Goettlingius (1843), p. 215.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_229" id="Footnote_229"></a><a href="#FNanchor_229"><span class="label">[229]</span></a> Nonsense; humbug.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_230" id="Footnote_230"></a><a href="#FNanchor_230"><span class="label">[230]</span></a> <a id="Note_189" name="Note_189">{189}</a> [Hobhouse pronounced it to be the Fountain of Ares, +the Paraporti Spring, "which serves to swell the scanty +waters of the Dirce." The Dirce flows on the west; the +Ismenus, which forms the fountain, to the east of Thebes. +"The water was tepid, as I found by bathing in it" (<i>Travels +in Albania</i>, i. 233; <i>Handbook for Greece</i>, p. 703).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_231" id="Footnote_231"></a><a href="#FNanchor_231"><span class="label">[231]</span></a> +[<i>Travels in Greece</i>, ch. lxvii.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_232" id="Footnote_232"></a><a href="#FNanchor_232"><span class="label">[232]</span></a> +[Gell's <i>Itinerary of Greece</i> (1810), Preface, p. xi.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_233" id="Footnote_233"></a><a href="#FNanchor_233"><span class="label">[233]</span></a> +<a id="Note_190" name="Note_190">{190}</a> [For M. Roque, see +<i>Itinéraire de Paris à Jérusalem: Oeuvres Chateaubriand</i>, +Paris, 1837, ii. 258-266.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_234" id="Footnote_234"></a><a href="#FNanchor_234"><span class="label">[234]</span></a> +<a id="Note_191" name="Note_191">{191}</a> [William Eton published (1798-1809) +<i>A Survey of the Turkish Empire</i>, +in which he advocated the cause of Greek independence. +Sonnini de Manoncourt (1751-1812), another ardent phil-Hellenist, +published his <i>Voyage en Grèce et en Turquie</i> in 1801.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_235" id="Footnote_235"></a><a href="#FNanchor_235"><span class="label">[235]</span></a> +[Cornelius de Pauw (1739-1799), Dutch historian, +published, in 1787, <i>Recherches philosophiques sur les Grecs</i>. +Byron reflects upon his paradoxes and superficiality in +<a href="#Page_192">Note II.</a>, <i>infra</i>. Thomas Thornton published, in 1807, a work entitled +<i>Present State of Turkey</i> (see <a href="#Page_192">Note II.</a>, <i>infra</i>).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_236" id="Footnote_236"></a><a href="#FNanchor_236"><span class="label">[236]</span></a> <a id="Note_192" name="Note_192">{192}</a> [The MSS. of <i>Hints from Horace</i> +and <i>The Curse of Minerva</i> are dated, +"Athens, Capuchin Convent, March 12 and March 17, 1811." +Proof B of <i>Hints from Horace</i> is +dated, "Athens, Franciscan Convent, March 12, 1811." +Writing to Hodgson, November 14, 1810, he says, "I am +living alone in the Franciscan monastery with one 'fri<i>ar</i>' +(a Capuchin of course) and one 'fri<i>er</i>' (a bandy-legged +Turkish cook)" (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 307).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_237" id="Footnote_237"></a><a href="#FNanchor_237"><span class="label">[237]</span></a> <a id="Note_193" name="Note_193">{193}</a> [The Ionian Islands, with the exception of Corfù and +Paxos, fell into the hands of the English in 1809, 1810. +Paxos was captured in 1814, but Corfù, which had been +blockaded by Napoleon, was not surrendered till the restoration +of the Bourbons in 1815.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_238" id="Footnote_238"></a><a href="#FNanchor_238"><span class="label">[238]</span></a> [The Mainotes or Mainates, who take their name from +Maina, near Cape Tænaron, were the Highlanders of the +Morea, "remarkable for their love of violence and plunder, +but also for their frankness and independence." "Pedants +have termed the Mainates descendants of the ancient +Spartans," but "they must be either descended from the +Helots, or from the Perioikoi.... To an older genealogy they +can have no pretension."—Finlay's History of Greece, 1877, +v. 113; vi. 26.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_239" id="Footnote_239"></a><a href="#FNanchor_239"><span class="label">[239]</span></a> <a id="Note_194" name="Note_194">{194}</a> [The Fanal, or Phanár, is to the left, +Pera to the right, of +the Golden Horn. "The water of the Golden Horn, which +flows between the city and the suburbs, is a line of separation +seldom transgressed by the Frank +residents."—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, ii. 208.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_240" id="Footnote_240"></a><a href="#FNanchor_240"><span class="label">[240]</span></a> <a id="Note_195" name="Note_195">{195}</a> A word, <i>en passant</i>, with Mr. Thornton and +Dr. Pouqueville, who have been guilty between them of sadly +clipping the Sultan's Turkish.<a href="#en_240_A">[A]</a> +</p><p> +Dr. Pouqueville tells a long story of a Moslem who +swallowed corrosive sublimate in such quantities that he +acquired the name of "<i>Suleyman Yeyen</i>" i.e. quoth the +Doctor, "<i>Suleyman the eater of corrosive sublimate</i>." +"Aha," thinks Mr. Thornton (angry with the Doctor for the +fiftieth time), "have I caught you?"<a href="#en_240_B">[B]</a>—Then, in a note, +twice the thickness of the Doctor's anecdote, he questions +the Doctor's proficiency in the Turkish tongue, and his +veracity in his own.—"For," observes Mr. Thornton +(after inflicting on us the tough participle of a Turkish verb), +"it means nothing more than '<i>Suleyman the eater</i>,' and quite +cashiers the supplementary '<i>sublimate</i>.'" Now both are +right, and both are wrong. If Mr. Thornton, when he next +resides "fourteen years in the factory," will consult his +Turkish dictionary, or ask any of his Stamboline acquaintance, +he will discover that "<i>Suleyma'n yeyen</i>," put together +discreetly, mean the "<i>Swallower of sublimate</i>" without any +"Suleyman" in the case: "<i>Suleyma</i>" signifying +"<i>corrosive sublimate</i>" and not being a proper name +on this occasion, although it be an orthodox name enough with +the addition of <i>n</i>. After Mr. Thornton's frequent +hints of profound Orientalism, he might have found this out +before he sang such pæans over Dr. Pouqueville. +</p><p> +After this, I think "Travellers <i>versus</i> Factors" shall be +our motto, though the above Mr. Thornton has condemned +"hoc genus omne," for mistake and misrepresentation. +"Ne Sutor ultra crepidam," "No merchant beyond his +bales." N.B. For the benefit of Mr. Thornton, "Sutor" is +not a proper name. +</p><p> +<a id="en_240_A">[A]</a> [For Pouqueville's story of the "thériakis" or opium-eaters, +see <i>Voyage en Morée</i>, 1805, ii. 126.] +</p><p> +<a id="en_240_B">[B]</a> [Thornton's <i>Present State of Turkey</i>, ii. 173.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_241" id="Footnote_241"></a><a href="#FNanchor_241"><span class="label">[241]</span></a> <i>Recherches Philosophiques sur les Grecs</i>, 1787, i. 155.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_242" id="Footnote_242"></a><a href="#FNanchor_242"><span class="label">[242]</span></a> +<a id="Note_196" name="Note_196">{196}</a> [De Pauw (<i>Rech. Phil. sur les Grecs</i>, +1788, ii. 293), in repeating +Plato's statement (<i>Laches</i>, 191), that the Lacedæmonians +at Platæa first fled from the Persians, and then, when the +Persians were broken, turned upon them and won the battle, +misapplies to them the term +<span title="thrasy/deiloi">θρασύδειλοι</span> +(Arist., <i>Eth. Nic.</i>, iii. 9.7)—men, +that is, who affect the hero, but play the poltroon.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_243" id="Footnote_243"></a><a href="#FNanchor_243"><span class="label">[243]</span></a> [Attached as a note to line 562 +<i>of Hints from Horace</i> (MS. M.).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_244" id="Footnote_244"></a><a href="#FNanchor_244"><span class="label">[244]</span></a> ["I'll talk a word with this same learned Theban." +Shakespeare, <i>King Lear</i>, act iii. sc. 4, line 150.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_245" id="Footnote_245"></a><a href="#FNanchor_245"><span class="label">[245]</span></a> [For April, 1810: vol. xvi. pp. 55, <i>sq</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_246" id="Footnote_246"></a><a href="#FNanchor_246"><span class="label">[246]</span></a> [Diamant or Adamantius Coray (1748-1833), scholar and +phil-Hellenist, declared his views on the future of the Greeks in +the preface to a translation of Beccaria Bonesani's treatise, +<i>Dei Delitti e delle Pene</i> (1764), which was published in Paris +in 1802. He began to publish his <i>Bibliothèque Hellénique</i>, +in 17 vols., in 1805. He was of Chian parentage, but was +born at Smyrna. +<span title="Koraê Au)tobiographia">Κοραη +Αὐτοβιογραφια</span>, +Athens, 1891.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_247" id="Footnote_247"></a><a href="#FNanchor_247"><span class="label">[247]</span></a> I have in my possession an excellent lexicon +"<span title="tri/glôsson">τρίγλωσσον</span>" +which I received in exchange from S. G——, Esq., +for a small gem: +my antiquarian friends have never forgotten it or forgiven me. +</p><p> +[<span title="Lexiko\n tri/glôsson tê~s Gallikê~s">Λεξικὸν +τρίγλωσσον τῆς +Γαλλικῆς</span>, +<span title="I)talikê~s, kai\ 'Rômaikê~s diale/ktou, k.t.l.">Ἰταλικῆς, καὶ 'Ρωμαικῆς +διαλέκτου, κ.τ.λ.</span>, +3 vols., Vienna, 1790. +By Georgie Vendoti (Bentotes, or Bendotes) of Joanina. +The book was in Hobhouse's possession in 1854.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_248" id="Footnote_248"></a><a href="#FNanchor_248"><span class="label">[248]</span></a> In Gail's pamphlet against Coray, he talks of +"throwing the insolent Hellenist out of the windows." +On this a French critic exclaims, +"Ah, my God! throw an Hellenist out of the window! what sacrilege!" +It certainly would be a serious +business for those authors who dwell in the attics: but I +have quoted the passage merely to prove the similarity of +style among the controversialists of all polished countries; +London or Edinburgh could hardly parallel this Parisian ebullition. +</p><p> +[Jean Baptiste Gail (1755-1829), Professor of Greek in +the Collége de France, published, in 1810, a quarto volume +entitled, <i>Réclamations de J. B. Gail, ... et observations sur +l'opinion en virtu de laquelle le juri—propose de décerner un +prix à M. Coray, à l'exclusion de la chasse de Xénophon, du +Thucydide, etc., grec-latin-français, etc.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_249" id="Footnote_249"></a><a href="#FNanchor_249"><span class="label">[249]</span></a> <a id="Note_198" name="Note_198">{198}</a> Dorotheus of Mitylene (fl. sixteenth century), +Archbishop of Monembasia (Anglicè "Malmsey"), +on the south-east coast of Laconia, +was the author of a <i>Universal History</i> +(<span title="Biblion I(storiko/n, k.t.l.">Βιβλιον +Ἱστορικόν, κ.τ.λ.</span>), +edited by A. Tzigaras, Venice, 1637, 4to.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_250" id="Footnote_250"></a><a href="#FNanchor_250"><span class="label">[250]</span></a> Meletius of Janina (1661-1714) was Archbishop of +Athens, 1703-14. His principal work is +<i>Ancient and Modern Geography</i>, Venice, 1728, fol. +He also wrote an +Ecclesiastical History, in four vols., Vienna, 1783-95.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_251" id="Footnote_251"></a><a href="#FNanchor_251"><span class="label">[251]</span></a> Panagios (Panagiotes) Kodrikas, Professor of Greek at +Paris, published at Vienna, in 1794, a Greek translation +of Fontenelle's <i>Entretiens sur la Pluralite des Mondes</i>. +John Camarases, a Constantinopolitan, translated into +French the apocryphal treatise, <i>De Universi Natura</i>, +attributed to Ocellus Lucanus, a Pythagorean philosopher, +who is said to have flourished in Lucania in the fifth century B.C.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_252" id="Footnote_252"></a><a href="#FNanchor_252"><span class="label">[252]</span></a> Christodoulos, an Acarnanian, published a work, +<span title="Peri\ Philoso/phou, Philosophi/as, Physiô~n, Metaphysikô~n, k.t.l.">Περὶ +Φιλοσόφου, +Φιλοσοφίας, Φυσιῶν, +Μεταφυσικῶν, κ.τ.λ.</span>, +at Vienna, in 1786.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_253" id="Footnote_253"></a><a href="#FNanchor_253"><span class="label">[253]</span></a> Athanasius Psalidas published, at Vienna, in 1791, a +sceptical work entitled, <i>True Felicity</i> +(<span title="A)lêthê\s Eu)daimoni/a">Ἀληθὴς +Εὐδαιμονία</span>). +"Very learned, and full of quotations, but written in false +taste."—<i>MS. M.</i> He was a schoolmaster at Janina, where +Byron and Hobhouse made his acquaintance—"the only +person," says Hobhouse, "I ever saw who had what might +be called a library, and that a very small one" +(<i>Travels in Albania, etc.</i>, i. 508).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_254" id="Footnote_254"></a><a href="#FNanchor_254"><span class="label">[254]</span></a> Hobhouse mentions a patriotic poet named Polyzois, +"the new Tyrtæus," and gives, as a specimen of his +work, "a war-song of the Greeks in Egypt, fighting in the +cause of Freedom."—<i>Travels in Albania, etc.</i>, i. 507; ii. 6, 7.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_255" id="Footnote_255"></a><a href="#FNanchor_255"><span class="label">[255]</span></a> <a id="Note_199" name="Note_199">{199}</a> [By Blackbey is meant Bey of Vlack, i.e. Wallachia. +(See a <i>Translation</i> of this "satire in dialogue"—"Remarks +on the Romaic," etc., <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1891, p. 793.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_256" id="Footnote_256"></a><a href="#FNanchor_256"><span class="label">[256]</span></a> [Constantine Rhigas (born 1753), the author of the +original of Byron's "Sons of the Greeks, arise," was handed +over to the Turks by the Austrians, and shot at Belgrade in +1793, by the orders of Ali Pacha.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_257" id="Footnote_257"></a><a href="#FNanchor_257"><span class="label">[257]</span></a> <a id="Note_200" name="Note_200">{200}</a> [The Hecatonnesi are a cluster of islands in the Gulf +of Adramyttium, over against the harbour and town of Aivali +or Aivalik. Cidonies may stand for +<span title="ê(po/lis kydôni\s">ἡ πόλις +κυδωνὶς</span>, the +quince-shaped city. "At Haivali or Kidognis, opposite to +Mytilene, there is a sort of university for a hundred students +and three professors, now superintended by a Greek of +Mytilene, who teaches not only the Hellenic, but Latin, +French, and +Italian."—<i>Travels in Albania</i>, <i>etc.</i>, i. 509, 510.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_258" id="Footnote_258"></a><a href="#FNanchor_258"><span class="label">[258]</span></a> [François Horace Bastien, Conte Sebastiani (1772-1851), +was ambassador to the <i>Sublime Porte</i>, May, 1806-June, 1807.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_259" id="Footnote_259"></a><a href="#FNanchor_259"><span class="label">[259]</span></a> [Gregor Alexandrovitch Potemkin (1736-1791), the +favourite of the Empress Catherine II.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_260" id="Footnote_260"></a><a href="#FNanchor_260"><span class="label">[260]</span></a> <a id="Note_201" name="Note_201">{201}</a> In a former number of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>, +1808, it is observed: "Lord Byron passed some of his early years in +Scotland, where he might have learned that <i>pibroch</i> does +not mean a <i>bagpipe</i>, any more than <i>duet</i> means a <i>fiddle</i>." +Query,—Was it in Scotland that the young gentlemen of +the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> <i>learned</i> that +<i>Solyman</i> means <i>Mahomet II.</i> any more than +<i>criticism</i> means <i>infallibility</i>?—but thus it is, +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cædimus, inque vicem præbemus crura sagittis."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Persius, <i>Sat.</i> iv. 42. +</p><p> +The mistake seemed so completely a lapse of the pen (from +the great <i>similarity</i> of the two words, and the <i>total absence +of error</i> from the former pages of the literary leviathan) that +I should have passed it over as in the text, had I not perceived +in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> much facetious exultation on all +such detections, particularly a recent one, where words and +syllables are subjects of disquisition and transposition; and +the above-mentioned parallel passage in my own case irresistibly +propelled me to hint how much easier it is to be +critical than correct. The <i>gentlemen</i>, having enjoyed many +a <i>triumph</i> on such victories, will hardly begrudge me a slight +<i>ovation</i> for the present. +</p><p> +[At the end of the review of <i>Childe Harold</i>, February, 1812 +(xix., 476), the editor inserted a ponderous retort to this +harmless and good-natured "chaff:" "To those strictures +of the noble author we feel no inclination to trouble our +readers with any reply ... we shall merely observe that if +we viewed with astonishment the immeasurable fury with +which the minor poet received the innocent pleasantry and +moderate castigation of our remarks on his first publication, +we now feel nothing but pity for the strange irritability of +temperament which can still cherish a private resentment for +such a cause, or wish to perpetuate memory of personalities +as outrageous as to have been injurious only to their authors."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_261" id="Footnote_261"></a><a href="#FNanchor_261"><span class="label">[261]</span></a> ["O Athens, first of all lands, +why in these latter days dost thou nourish asses?"]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_262" id="Footnote_262"></a><a href="#FNanchor_262"><span class="label">[262]</span></a> [Anna Comnena (1083-1148), daughter of Alexis I., +wrote the <i>Alexiad</i>, a history of her father's reign.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_263" id="Footnote_263"></a><a href="#FNanchor_263"><span class="label">[263]</span></a> [Zonaras (<i>Annales</i>, B 240), lib. viii. cap. 26, +A 4. Venice, 1729.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_264" id="Footnote_264"></a><a href="#FNanchor_264"><span class="label">[264]</span></a> [See <i>English Bards, etc.</i>, line 877: +<i>Poems</i>, 1898, i. 366, <i>note 1.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_265" id="Footnote_265"></a><a href="#FNanchor_265"><span class="label">[265]</span></a> <a id="Note_203" name="Note_203">{203}</a> [For Vely Pacha, the son of Ali Pacha, Vizier of the +Morea, see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 248, note 1.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_266" id="Footnote_266"></a><a href="#FNanchor_266"><span class="label">[266]</span></a> [The Caimacam was the deputy or lieutenant of the +grand Vizier.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_267" id="Footnote_267"></a><a href="#FNanchor_267"><span class="label">[267]</span></a> [Scott published +"<i>Sir Tristrem, a Metrical Romance of the Thirteenth Century</i>, +by Thomas of Ercildoun," in 1804.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_268" id="Footnote_268"></a><a href="#FNanchor_268"><span class="label">[268]</span></a> [Captain Lismahago, a paradoxical and pedantic Scotchman, +the favoured suitor of Miss Tabitha Bramble, in +Smollett's <i>Expedition of Humphry Clinker</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_269" id="Footnote_269"></a><a href="#FNanchor_269"><span class="label">[269]</span></a> <a id="Note_204" name="Note_204">{204}</a> [Sir William Drummond (1780?-1828) +published, <i>inter alia</i>, +<i>A Review of the Government of Athens and Sparta</i>, +in 1795; and +<i>Herculanensia, an Archæological and Philological Dissertation +containing a Manuscript found at Herculaneum</i>, +in conjunction with the Rev. Robert Walpole +(see letter to Harness, December 8, 1811. See <i>Letters</i>, 1898, +ii. 79, note 3). +</p><p> +For Aberdeen and Hamilton, see <i>English Bards, etc.</i>, +line 509: <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 336, note 2, +and <i>Childe Harold</i>, Canto II. supplementary stanzas, +<i>ibid.</i>, ii. 108. +</p><p> +Edward Daniel Clarke, LL.D. (1769-1822), published +<i>Travels in Various Countries</i>, 1810-1823 +(<i>vide ante</i>, p. 172, <a href="#en_II_7">note 7</a>). +</p><p> +For Leake, <i>vide ante</i>, <a href="#Footnote_213">p. 174, note 1</a>. +</p><p> +For Gell, see <i>English Bards, etc.</i>, line 1034, note 1: +<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 379. +</p><p> +The Rev. Robert Walpole (1781-1856), in addition to his +share in <i>Herculanensia</i>, completed the sixth volume of +Clarke's <i>Travels</i>, which appeared in 1823.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_270" id="Footnote_270"></a><a href="#FNanchor_270"><span class="label">[270]</span></a> <a id="Note_205" name="Note_205">{205}</a> [Compare English Bards, etc., line 655, note 2: +<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 349.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_271" id="Footnote_271"></a><a href="#FNanchor_271"><span class="label">[271]</span></a> [The judge of a town or village—the +Spanish <i>alcalde</i>.—<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Cadi."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_272" id="Footnote_272"></a><a href="#FNanchor_272"><span class="label">[272]</span></a> <a id="Note_206" name="Note_206">{206}</a> [Mouradja D'Ohsson (1740-1804), an Armenian by +birth, spent many years at Constantinople as Swedish envoy. +He published at Paris (1787-90, two vols. fol.) his +<i>Tableau général de l'empire Othoman</i>, +a work still regarded as the chief authority on the subject.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_273" id="Footnote_273"></a><a href="#FNanchor_273"><span class="label">[273]</span></a> ["Effendi," derived from the Greek +<span title="au)the/ntês">αὐθέντης</span>, +through the Romaic +<span title="a)phe/ntês">ἀφέντης</span>, +an "absolute master," is a title borne by distinguished civilians. +</p><p> +The Spanish order of St. James of Compostella was +founded circ. A.D. 1170.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_274" id="Footnote_274"></a><a href="#FNanchor_274"><span class="label">[274]</span></a> <a id="Note_207" name="Note_207">{207}</a> [The "Nizam Gedidd," or new ordinance, which aimed +at remodelling the Turkish army on a quasi-European +system, was promulgated by Selim III in 1808. +</p><p> +A "mufti" is an expounder, a "molla" or "mollah" a +superior judge, of the sacred Moslem law. The "tefterdars" +or "defterdars" were provincial registrars and treasurers +under the supreme defterdar, or Chancellor of the Exchequer.]</p></div> +</div> + +<hr class="major" style="margin-bottom:2cm;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<div class="titlepage"> + <h1>CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE + <br /> + <span style="font-size:75%">CANTO THE THIRD</span>.</h1> + +<hr class="tb" /> +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Afin que cette application vous forcât à penser à autre chose. +Il n'y a en vérité de remède que celui-là et le temps."—<i>Lettres du +Roi de Prusse et de M. D'Alembert</i>.<a name="FNanchor_275" id="FNanchor_275"></a><a href="#Footnote_275" class="fnanchor">[275]</a> [<i>Lettre</i> cxlvi. +Sept. 7, 1776.]</p> +</div> +<hr class="tb" /> +</div> + +<hr class="major" style="margin-top:2cm;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION_THIRD" id="INTRODUCTION_THIRD"></a>INTRODUCTION TO THE THIRD CANTO. +</h2> + + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> Third Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i> was begun early in May, +and finished at Ouchy, near Lausanne, on the 27th of June, +1816. Byron made a fair copy of the first draft of his poem, +which had been scrawled on loose sheets, and engaged the +services of "Claire" (Jane Clairmont) to make a second +transcription. Her task was completed on the 4th of July. +The fair copy and Claire's transcription remained in Byron's +keeping until the end of August or the beginning of September, +when he consigned the transcription to "his friend +Mr. Shelley," and the fair copy to Scrope Davies, with +instructions to deliver them to Murray (see Letters to Murray, +October 5, 9, 15, 1816). Shelley landed at Portsmouth, +September 8, and on the 11th of September he discharged +his commission.</p> + +<p>"I was thrilled with delight yesterday," writes Murray +(September 12), "by the announcement of Mr. Shelley with +the MS. of <i>Childe Harold</i>. I had no sooner got the quiet +possession of it than, trembling with auspicious hope, ... I +carried it ... to Mr. Gifford.... He says that what you +have heretofore published is nothing to this effort.... +Never, since my intimacy with Mr. Gifford, did I see him so +heartily pleased, or give one fiftieth part of the praise, with +one thousandth part of the warmth."</p> + +<p>The correction of the press was undertaken by Gifford, +not without some remonstrance on the part of Shelley, who +maintained that "the revision of the proofs, and the retention +or alteration of certain particular passages had been +entrusted to his discretion" (Letter to Murray, October 30, +1816).</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>When, if ever, Mr. Davies, of "inaccurate memory" +(Letter to Murray, December 4, 1816), discharged his trust +is a matter of uncertainty. The "original MS." (Byron's "fair +copy") is not forthcoming, and it is improbable that Murray, +who had stipulated (September 20) "for all the original +MSS., copies, and scraps," ever received it. The "scraps" +were sent (October 5) in the first instance to Geneva, and, +after many wanderings, ultimately fell into the possession of +Mrs. Leigh, from whom they were purchased by the late Mr. Murray.</p> + +<p>The July number of the <i>Quarterly Review</i> (No. XXX.) was +still in the press, and, possibly, for this reason it was not till +October 29 that Murray inserted the following advertisement +in the <i>Morning Chronicle:</i> "Lord Byron's New Poems. +On the 23<span class="sup">d</span> of November will be published The Prisoners (<i>sic</i>) +of Chillon, a Tale and other Poems. A Third Canto of Childe +Harold...." But a rival was in the field. The next day +(October 30), in the same print, another advertisement appeared: +"<i>The R. H. Lord Byron's Pilgrimage to the Holy Land....</i> +Printed for J. Johnston, Cheapside.... Of +whom may be had, by the same author, a new ed. (the third) +of <i>Farewell to England: with three other poems....</i>" +It was, no doubt, the success of his first venture which had +stimulated the "Cheapside impostor," as Byron called him, +to forgery on a larger scale.</p> + +<p>The controversy did not end there. A second advertisement +(<i>Morning Chronicle</i>, November 15) of "Lord Byron's +Pilgrimage," etc., stating that "the copyright of the work +was consigned" to the Publisher "exclusively by the Noble +Author himself, and for which he gives 500 guineas," precedes +Murray's second announcement of <i>The Prisoners of Chillon</i>, +and the Third Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>, in which he informs +"the public that the poems lately advertised are not written +by Lord Byron. The only bookseller at present authorised +to print Lord Byron's poems is Mr. Murray...." Further +precautions were deemed necessary. An injunction in +Chancery was applied for by Byron's agents and representatives +(see, for a report of the case in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, +November 28, 1816, <i>Letters</i>, vol. iv., Letter to Murray, +December 9, 1816, note), and granted by the Chancellor, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> +Lord Eldon. Strangely enough, Sir Samuel Romilly, whom +Byron did not love, was counsel for the plaintiff.</p> + +<p>In spite of the injunction, a volume entitled "<i>Lord Byron's +Pilgrimage to the Holy Land</i>, a Poem in Two Cantos. To +which is attached a fragment, <i>The Tempest</i>," was issued in 1817. +It is a dull and, apparently, serious production, suggested +by, but hardly an imitation of, <i>Childe Harold</i>. The notes +are descriptive of the scenery, customs, and antiquities of +Palestine. <i>The Tempest</i>, on the other hand, is a parody, and +by no means a bad parody, of Byron at his worst; e.g.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There was a sternness in his eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which chilled the soul—one knew not why—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But when returning vigour came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And kindled the dark glare to flame,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So fierce it flashed, one well might swear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A thousand souls were centred there."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It is possible that this <i>Pilgrimage</i> was the genuine composition +of some poetaster who failed to get his poems published +under his own name, or it may have been the deliberate +forgery of John Agg, or Hewson Clarke, or C. F. Lawler, +the <i>pseudo</i> Peter Pindar—"Druids" who were in Johnston's +pay, and were prepared to compose pilgrimages to any land, +holy or unholy, which would bring grist to their employer's +mill. (See the <i>Advertisements</i> at the end of <i>Lord Byron's +Pilgrimage, etc.</i>)</p> + +<p>The Third Canto was published, not as announced, on +the 23rd, but on the 18th of November. Murray's "auspicious +hope" of success was amply fulfilled. He "wrote to Lord +Byron on the 13th of December, 1816, informing him that +at a dinner at the Albion Tavern, he had sold to the assembled +booksellers 7000 of his Third Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>...." +The reviews were for the most part laudatory. Sir Walter +Scott's finely-tempered eulogium (<i>Quart. Rev</i>., No. xxxi., +October, 1816 [published February 11, 1817]), and Jeffrey's +balanced and cautious appreciation (<i>Edin. Rev</i>., No. liv., +December, 1816 [published February 14, 1817]) have been +reprinted in their collected works. Both writers conclude +with an aspiration—Jeffrey, that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">"This puissant spirit<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Yet shall reascend,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Self-raised, and repossess its native seat!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span></p> + +<p>Scott, in the "tenderest strain" of Virgilian melody—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I decus, i nostrum, melioribus utere fatis!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h3><span class="smcap">Note on MSS. of the Third Canto.</span></h3> + +<p>[The following memorandum, in Byron's handwriting, is +prefixed to the Transcription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"This copy is to be printed from—subject to comparison +with the original MS. (from which this is a transcription) +in such parts as it may chance to be difficult to decypher in +the following. The notes in this copy are more complete +and extended than in the former—and there is also +<i>one stanza more</i> inserted and added to this, viz. the 33d. B.</p> + +<p style="text-indent:8em;"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>. July 10th, 1816.</p> + +<p style="text-indent:6em;margin-top:0;">Diodati, near y<span class="sup">e</span> Lake of Geneva."</p> +</div> + +<p>The "original MS." to which the memorandum refers is +not forthcoming (<i>vide ante</i>, <a href="#Page_212">p. 212</a>), but the "scraps" (MS.) +are now in Mr. Murray's possession. Stanzas i.-iii., and the +lines beginning, "The castled Crag of Drachenfels," are missing.</p> + +<p>Claire's Transcription (C.) occupies the first 119 pages of +a substantial quarto volume. Stanzas xxxiii. and xcix.-cv. +and several of the notes are in Byron's handwriting. The +same volume contains <i>Sonnet on Chillon</i>, in Byron's handwriting; +a transcription of the <i>Prisoners</i> (<i>sic</i>) <i>of Chillon</i> +(so, too, the advertisement in the <i>Morning Chronicle</i>, October 29, +1816); <i>Sonnet</i>, "Rousseau," etc., in Byron's handwriting, +and transcriptions of <i>Stanzas to</i>——, "Though the day of +my destiny's over;" <i>Darkness</i>; <i>Churchill's Grave</i>; +<i>The Dream</i>; <i>The Incantation</i> +(<i>Manfred</i>, act ii. sc. 1); and <i>Prometheus</i>.]</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CANTO_THIRD" id="CANTO_THIRD"></a>CANTO THE THIRD. +</h2> + +<h4>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Is</span> thy face like thy mothers, my fair child!<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="smcap">Ada</span>! sole daughter of my house and heart?<a name="FNanchor_276" id="FNanchor_276"></a><a href="#Footnote_276" class="fnanchor">[276]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +<span class="i2">When last I saw thy young blue eyes they smiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And then we parted,—not as now we part,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But with a hope.—<br /></span> +<span class="i21">Awaking with a start,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The waters heave around me; and on high<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The winds lift up their voices: I depart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye.<a name="FNanchor_GH" id="FNanchor_GH"></a><a href="#Footnote_GH" class="fnanchor">[gh]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once more upon the waters! yet once more!<a name="FNanchor_277" id="FNanchor_277"></a><a href="#Footnote_277" class="fnanchor">[277]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the waves bound beneath me as a steed<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span> +<span class="i2">That knows his rider.<a name="FNanchor_278" id="FNanchor_278"></a><a href="#Footnote_278" class="fnanchor">[278]</a> Welcome to their roar!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Swift be their guidance, wheresoe'er it lead!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the rent canvass fluttering strew the gale,<a name="FNanchor_GI" id="FNanchor_GI"></a><a href="#Footnote_GI" class="fnanchor">[gi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still must I on; for I am as a weed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In my youth's summer I did sing of One,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wandering outlaw of his own dark mind;<a name="FNanchor_279" id="FNanchor_279"></a><a href="#Footnote_279" class="fnanchor">[279]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Again I seize the theme, then but begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bear it with me, as the rushing wind<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Bears the cloud onwards: in that Tale I find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The furrows of long thought, and dried-up tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, ebbing, leave a sterile track behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er which all heavily the journeying years<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Plod the last sands of life,—where not a flower appears.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Since my young days of passion—joy, or pain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perchance my heart and harp have lost a string—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And both may jar: it may be, that in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would essay as I have sung to sing<a name="FNanchor_GJ" id="FNanchor_GJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_GJ" class="fnanchor">[gj]</a>:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet, though a dreary strain, to this I cling;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So that it wean me from the weary dream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of selfish grief or gladness—so it fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgetfulness around me—it shall seem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To me, though to none else, a not ungrateful theme.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He, who grown aged in this world of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In deeds, not years,<a name="FNanchor_280" id="FNanchor_280"></a><a href="#Footnote_280" class="fnanchor">[280]</a> piercing the depths of life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So that no wonder waits him—nor below<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can Love or Sorrow, Fame, Ambition, Strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cut to his heart again with the keen knife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of silent, sharp endurance—he can tell<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Why Thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With airy images, and shapes which dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still unimpaired, though old, in the Soul's haunted cell.<a name="FNanchor_GK" id="FNanchor_GK"></a><a href="#Footnote_GK" class="fnanchor">[gk]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Tis to create, and in creating live<a name="FNanchor_281" id="FNanchor_281"></a><a href="#Footnote_281" class="fnanchor">[281]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A being more intense that we endow<a name="FNanchor_GL" id="FNanchor_GL"></a><a href="#Footnote_GL" class="fnanchor">[gl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With form our fancy, gaining as we give<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The life we image, even as I do now—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Invisible but gazing, as I glow—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mixed with thy spirit, blended with thy birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feeling still with thee in my crushed feelings' dearth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet must I think less wildly:—I <i>have</i> thought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too long and darkly, till my brain became,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:<a name="FNanchor_GM" id="FNanchor_GM"></a><a href="#Footnote_GM" class="fnanchor">[gm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My springs of life were poisoned.<a name="FNanchor_282" id="FNanchor_282"></a><a href="#Footnote_282" class="fnanchor">[282]</a> 'Tis too late:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet am I changed; though still enough the same<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In strength to bear what Time can not abate,<a name="FNanchor_GN" id="FNanchor_GN"></a><a href="#Footnote_GN" class="fnanchor">[gn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Something too much of this:—but now 'tis past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the spell closes with its silent seal—<a name="FNanchor_283" id="FNanchor_283"></a><a href="#Footnote_283" class="fnanchor">[283]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Long absent <span class="smcap">Harold</span> re-appears at last;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He of the breast which fain no more would feel,<a name="FNanchor_GO" id="FNanchor_GO"></a><a href="#Footnote_GO" class="fnanchor">[go]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wrung with the wounds which kill not, but ne'er heal;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In soul and aspect as in age: years steal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fire from the mind as vigour from the limb;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His had been quaffed too quickly, and he found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dregs were wormwood; but he filled again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from a purer fount, on holier ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deemed its spring perpetual—but in vain!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still round him clung invisibly a chain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which galled for ever, fettering though unseen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And heavy though it clanked not; worn with pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which pined although it spoke not, and grew keen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Entering with every step he took through many a scene.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span></p> + +<h4>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Secure in guarded coldness, he had mixed<a name="FNanchor_GP" id="FNanchor_GP"></a><a href="#Footnote_GP" class="fnanchor">[gp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Again in fancied safety with his kind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And deemed his spirit now so firmly fixed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sheathed with an invulnerable mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, if no joy, no sorrow lurked behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he, as one, might 'midst the many stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unheeded, searching through the crowd to find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fit speculation—such as in strange land<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He found in wonder-works of God and Nature's hand.<a name="FNanchor_GQ" id="FNanchor_GQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_GQ" class="fnanchor">[gq]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But who can view the ripened rose, nor seek<a name="FNanchor_GR" id="FNanchor_GR"></a><a href="#Footnote_GR" class="fnanchor">[gr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wear it? who can curiously behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The smoothness and the sheen of Beauty's cheek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor feel the heart can never all grow old?<a name="FNanchor_GS" id="FNanchor_GS"></a><a href="#Footnote_GS" class="fnanchor">[gs]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The star<a name="FNanchor_284" id="FNanchor_284"></a><a href="#Footnote_284" class="fnanchor">[284]</a> which rises o'er her steep, nor climb?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Harold, once more within the vortex, rolled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On with the giddy circle, chasing Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet with a nobler aim than in his Youth's fond prime.<a name="FNanchor_GT" id="FNanchor_GT"></a><a href="#Footnote_GT" class="fnanchor">[gt]</a><a name="FNanchor_285" id="FNanchor_285"></a><a href="#Footnote_285" class="fnanchor">[285]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But soon he knew himself the most unfit<a name="FNanchor_GU" id="FNanchor_GU"></a><a href="#Footnote_GU" class="fnanchor">[gu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of men to herd with Man, with whom he held<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Little in common; untaught to submit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His thoughts to others, though his soul was quelled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In youth by his own thoughts; still uncompelled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He would not yield dominion of his mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Spirits against whom his own rebelled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proud though in desolation—which could find<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A life within itself, to breathe without mankind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where rose the mountains, there to him were friends;<a name="FNanchor_GV" id="FNanchor_GV"></a><a href="#Footnote_GV" class="fnanchor">[gv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where rolled the ocean, thereon was his home;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Where a blue sky, and glowing clime, extends,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had the passion and the power to roam;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The desert, forest, cavern, breaker's foam,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were unto him companionship; they spake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A mutual language, clearer than the tome<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of his land's tongue, which he would oft forsake<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Nature's pages glassed by sunbeams on the lake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like the Chaldean, he could watch the stars,<a name="FNanchor_GW" id="FNanchor_GW"></a><a href="#Footnote_GW" class="fnanchor">[gw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till he had peopled them with beings bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As their own beams; and earth, and earth-born jars,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And human frailties, were forgotten quite:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could he have kept his spirit to that flight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He had been happy; but this clay will sink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its spark immortal, envying it the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To which it mounts, as if to break the link<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That keeps us from yon heaven which woos us to its brink.<a name="FNanchor_GX" id="FNanchor_GX"></a><a href="#Footnote_GX" class="fnanchor">[gx]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But in Man's dwellings he became a thing<a name="FNanchor_GY" id="FNanchor_GY"></a><a href="#Footnote_GY" class="fnanchor">[gy]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Restless and worn, and stern and wearisome,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Drooped as a wild-born falcon with clipt wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom the boundless air alone were home:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then came his fit again, which to o'ercome,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As eagerly the barred-up bird will beat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His breast and beak against his wiry dome<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the blood tinge his plumage—so the heat<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of his impeded Soul would through his bosom eat.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Self-exiled Harold wanders forth again,<a name="FNanchor_286" id="FNanchor_286"></a><a href="#Footnote_286" class="fnanchor">[286]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With nought of Hope left—but with less of gloom;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very knowledge that he lived in vain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That all was over on this side the tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had made Despair a smilingness assume,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, though 'twere wild,—as on the plundered wreck<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When mariners would madly meet their doom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With draughts intemperate on the sinking deck,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did yet inspire a cheer, which he forbore to check.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Stop!—for thy tread is on an Empire's dust!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An Earthquake's spoil is sepulchred below!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is the spot marked with no colossal bust?<a name="FNanchor_287" id="FNanchor_287"></a><a href="#Footnote_287" class="fnanchor">[287]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor column trophied for triumphal show?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span> +<span class="i2">None; but <i>the moral's truth</i> tells simpler so.—<a name="FNanchor_GZ" id="FNanchor_GZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_GZ" class="fnanchor">[gz]</a><a name="FNanchor_288" id="FNanchor_288"></a><a href="#Footnote_288" class="fnanchor">[288]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">As the ground was before, thus let it be;—<a name="FNanchor_HA" id="FNanchor_HA"></a><a href="#Footnote_HA" class="fnanchor">[ha]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">How that red rain hath made the harvest grow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And is this all the world has gained by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou first and last of Fields! king-making Victory?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XVIII" name="C3_XVIII"></a>XVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Harold stands upon this place of skulls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The grave of France, the deadly Waterloo!<a name="FNanchor_HB" id="FNanchor_HB"></a><a href="#Footnote_HB" class="fnanchor">[hb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">How in an hour the Power which gave annuls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its gifts, transferring fame as fleeting too!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In "pride of place" here last the Eagle flew, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_1">[1.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain,<a name="FNanchor_HC" id="FNanchor_HC"></a><a href="#Footnote_HC" class="fnanchor">[hc]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Pierced by the shaft of banded nations through;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ambition's life and labours all were vain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He wears the shattered links of the World's broken chain.<a name="FNanchor_HD" id="FNanchor_HD"></a><a href="#Footnote_HD" class="fnanchor">[hd]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fit retribution! Gaul may champ the bit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And foam in fetters;—but is Earth more free?<a name="FNanchor_289" id="FNanchor_289"></a><a href="#Footnote_289" class="fnanchor">[289]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Did nations combat to make <i>One</i> submit?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or league to teach all Kings true Sovereignty?<a name="FNanchor_HE" id="FNanchor_HE"></a><a href="#Footnote_HE" class="fnanchor">[he]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">What! shall reviving Thraldom again be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The patched-up Idol of enlightened days?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall we, who struck the Lion down, shall we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pay the Wolf homage? proffering lowly gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And servile knees to Thrones? No! <i>prove</i> before ye praise!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XX" name="C3_XX"></a>XX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If not, o'er one fallen Despot boast no more!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain fair cheeks were furrowed with hot tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Europe's flowers long rooted up before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trampler of her vineyards; in vain, years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of death, depopulation, bondage, fears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have all been borne, and broken by the accord<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of roused-up millions: all that most endears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glory, is when the myrtle wreathes a Sword,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as Harmodius <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_2">[2.B.]</a> drew on Athens' tyrant Lord.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XXI" name="C3_XXI"></a>XXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There was a sound of revelry by night,<a name="FNanchor_290" id="FNanchor_290"></a><a href="#Footnote_290" class="fnanchor">[290]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Belgium's Capital had gathered then<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Her Beauty and her Chivalry—and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men;<a name="FNanchor_HF" id="FNanchor_HF"></a><a href="#Footnote_HF" class="fnanchor">[hf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand hearts beat happily; and when<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Music arose with its voluptuous swell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all went merry as a marriage bell; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_3">[3.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">But hush! hark! a deep sound strikes like a rising knell!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Did ye not hear it?—No—'twas but the Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the car rattling o'er the stony street;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span> +<span class="i2">To chase the glowing Hours with flying feet—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But hark!—that heavy sound breaks in once more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if the clouds its echo would repeat;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nearer—clearer—deadlier than before!<a name="FNanchor_HG" id="FNanchor_HG"></a><a href="#Footnote_HG" class="fnanchor">[hg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Arm! Arm! it is—it is—the cannon's opening roar!<a name="FNanchor_HH" id="FNanchor_HH"></a><a href="#Footnote_HH" class="fnanchor">[hh]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Within a windowed niche of that high hall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sate Brunswick's fated Chieftain; he did hear<a name="FNanchor_291" id="FNanchor_291"></a><a href="#Footnote_291" class="fnanchor">[291]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">That sound the first amidst the festival,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And when they smiled because he deemed it near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His heart more truly knew that peal too well<a name="FNanchor_HI" id="FNanchor_HI"></a><a href="#Footnote_HI" class="fnanchor">[hi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which stretched his father on a bloody bier,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And roused the vengeance blood alone could quell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He rushed into the field, and, foremost fighting, fell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,<a name="FNanchor_HJ" id="FNanchor_HJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_HJ" class="fnanchor">[hj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And there were sudden partings, such as press<a name="FNanchor_HK" id="FNanchor_HK"></a><a href="#Footnote_HK" class="fnanchor">[hk]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which ne'er might be repeated; who could guess<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise!<a name="FNanchor_HL" id="FNanchor_HL"></a><a href="#Footnote_HL" class="fnanchor">[hl]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there was mounting in hot haste—the steed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And swiftly forming in the ranks of war—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span> +<span class="i1">And the deep thunder peal on peal afar;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And near, the beat of the alarming drum<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Roused up the soldier ere the Morning Star;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While thronged the citizens with terror dumb,<a name="FNanchor_HM" id="FNanchor_HM"></a><a href="#Footnote_HM" class="fnanchor">[hm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or whispering, with white lips—"The foe! They come! they come!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XXVI" name="C3_XXVI"></a>XXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And wild and high the "Cameron's Gathering" rose!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The war-note of Lochiel, which Albyn's hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have heard, and heard, too, have her Saxon foes;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How in the noon of night that pibroch thrills,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Savage and shrill! But with the breath which fills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their mountain-pipe, so fill the mountaineers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the fierce native daring which instils<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stirring memory of a thousand years,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Evan's—Donald's <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_4">[4.B.]</a> fame rings in each clansman's ears!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XXVII" name="C3_XXVII"></a>XXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Ardennes <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_5">[5.B.]</a> waves above them her green leaves,<a name="FNanchor_HN" id="FNanchor_HN"></a><a href="#Footnote_HN" class="fnanchor">[hn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dewy with Nature's tear-drops, as they pass—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grieving, if aught inanimate e'er grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the unreturning brave,—alas!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Ere evening to be trodden like the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which now beneath them, but above shall grow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its next verdure, when this fiery mass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of living Valour, rolling on the foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And burning with high Hope, shall moulder cold and low.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Last noon beheld them full of lusty life;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Midnight brought the signal-sound of strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Morn the marshalling in arms,—the Day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Battle's magnificently-stern array!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The earth is covered thick with other clay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rider and horse,—friend,—foe,—in one red burial blent!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their praise is hymned by loftier harps than mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet one I would select from that proud throng,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Partly because they blend me with his line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And partly that I did his Sire some wrong,<a name="FNanchor_292" id="FNanchor_292"></a><a href="#Footnote_292" class="fnanchor">[292]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And partly that bright names will hallow song;<a name="FNanchor_HO" id="FNanchor_HO"></a><a href="#Footnote_HO" class="fnanchor">[ho]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his was of the bravest, and when showered<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The death-bolts deadliest the thinned files along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even where the thickest of War's tempest lowered,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They reached no nobler breast than thine, young, gallant Howard!<a name="FNanchor_293" id="FNanchor_293"></a><a href="#Footnote_293" class="fnanchor">[293]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XXX" name="C3_XXX"></a>XXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There have been tears and breaking hearts for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And mine were nothing, had I such to give;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But when I stood beneath the fresh green tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which living waves where thou didst cease to live,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And saw around me the wide field revive<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With fruits and fertile promise, and the Spring<a name="FNanchor_294" id="FNanchor_294"></a><a href="#Footnote_294" class="fnanchor">[294]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come forth her work of gladness to contrive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all her reckless birds upon the wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I turned from all she brought to those she could not bring. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_6">[6.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I turned to thee, to thousands, of whom each<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And one as all a ghastly gap did make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In his own kind and kindred, whom to teach<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgetfulness were mercy for their sake;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Archangel's trump, not Glory's, must awake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those whom they thirst for; though the sound of Fame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May for a moment soothe, it cannot slake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fever of vain longing, and the name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So honoured but assumes a stronger, bitterer claim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They mourn, but smile at length—and, smiling, mourn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tree will wither long before it fall;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn;<a name="FNanchor_HP" id="FNanchor_HP"></a><a href="#Footnote_HP" class="fnanchor">[hp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The roof-tree sinks, but moulders on the hall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In massy hoariness; the ruined wall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The bars survive the captive they enthral;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The day drags through though storms keep out the sun;<a name="FNanchor_HQ" id="FNanchor_HQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_HQ" class="fnanchor">[hq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on:<a name="FNanchor_295" id="FNanchor_295"></a><a href="#Footnote_295" class="fnanchor">[295]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Even as a broken Mirror,<a name="FNanchor_296" id="FNanchor_296"></a><a href="#Footnote_296" class="fnanchor">[296]</a> which the glass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In every fragment multiplies—and makes<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand images of one that was,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The same—and still the more, the more it breaks;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thus the heart will do which not forsakes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Living in shattered guise; and still, and cold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bloodless, with its sleepless sorrow aches,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet withers on till all without is old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showing no visible sign, for such things are untold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XXXIV" name="C3_XXXIV"></a>XXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a very life in our despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vitality of poison,—a quick root<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which feeds these deadly branches; for it were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As nothing did we die; but Life will suit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Itself to Sorrow's most detested fruit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_7">[7.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">All ashes to the taste: Did man compute<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Existence by enjoyment, and count o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such hours 'gainst years of life,—say, would he name threescore?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Psalmist numbered out the years of man:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They are enough; and if thy tale be <i>true</i>,<a name="FNanchor_HR" id="FNanchor_HR"></a><a href="#Footnote_HR" class="fnanchor">[hr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou, who didst grudge him even that fleeting span,<a name="FNanchor_297" id="FNanchor_297"></a><a href="#Footnote_297" class="fnanchor">[297]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">More than enough, thou fatal Waterloo!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Millions of tongues record thee, and anew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their children's lips shall echo them, and say—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Here, where the sword united nations drew,<a name="FNanchor_HS" id="FNanchor_HS"></a><a href="#Footnote_HS" class="fnanchor">[hs]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our countrymen were warring on that day!"<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And this is much—and all—which will not pass away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There sunk the greatest, nor the worst of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose Spirit, antithetically mixed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One moment of the mightiest, and again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On little objects with like firmness fixed;<a name="FNanchor_HT" id="FNanchor_HT"></a><a href="#Footnote_HT" class="fnanchor">[ht]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Extreme in all things! hadst thou been betwixt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy throne had still been thine, or never been;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Daring made thy rise as fall: thou seek'st<a name="FNanchor_HU" id="FNanchor_HU"></a><a href="#Footnote_HU" class="fnanchor">[hu]</a><a name="FNanchor_298" id="FNanchor_298"></a><a href="#Footnote_298" class="fnanchor">[298]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even now to re-assume the imperial mien,<a name="FNanchor_299" id="FNanchor_299"></a><a href="#Footnote_299" class="fnanchor">[299]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And shake again the world, the Thunderer of the scene!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span>XXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Conqueror and Captive of the Earth art thou!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She trembles at thee still, and thy wild name<a name="FNanchor_HV" id="FNanchor_HV"></a><a href="#Footnote_HV" class="fnanchor">[hv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was ne'er more bruited in men's minds than now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That thou art nothing, save the jest of Fame,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Who wooed thee once, thy Vassal, and became<a name="FNanchor_HW" id="FNanchor_HW"></a><a href="#Footnote_HW" class="fnanchor">[hw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flatterer of thy fierceness—till thou wert<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A God unto thyself; nor less the same<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the astounded kingdoms all inert,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who deemed thee for a time whate'er thou didst assert.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, more or less than man—in high or low—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Battling with nations, flying from the field;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Now making monarchs' necks thy footstool, now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More than thy meanest soldier taught to yield;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An Empire thou couldst crush, command, rebuild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But govern not thy pettiest passion, nor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">However deeply in men's spirits skilled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Look through thine own, nor curb the lust of War,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest Star.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet well thy soul hath brooked the turning tide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With that untaught innate philosophy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, be it Wisdom, Coldness, or deep Pride,<a name="FNanchor_HX" id="FNanchor_HX"></a><a href="#Footnote_HX" class="fnanchor">[hx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is gall and wormwood to an enemy.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the whole host of hatred stood hard by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To watch and mock thee shrinking, thou hast smiled<a name="FNanchor_HY" id="FNanchor_HY"></a><a href="#Footnote_HY" class="fnanchor">[hy]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> +<span class="i2">With a sedate and all-enduring eye;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Fortune fled her spoiled and favourite child,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He stood unbowed beneath the ills upon him piled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sager than in thy fortunes; for in them<a name="FNanchor_HZ" id="FNanchor_HZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_HZ" class="fnanchor">[hz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ambition steeled thee on too far to show<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That just habitual scorn, which could contemn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Men and their thoughts; 'twas wise to feel, not so<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To wear it ever on thy lip and brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spurn the instruments thou wert to use<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till they were turned unto thine overthrow:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis but a worthless world to win or lose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So hath it proved to thee, and all such lot who choose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XLI" name="C3_XLI"></a>XLI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">If, like a tower upon a headlong rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou hadst been made to stand or fall alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such scorn of man had helped to brave the shock;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But men's thoughts were the steps which paved thy throne,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Their</i> admiration thy best weapon shone;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The part of Philip's son was thine, not then<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(Unless aside thy Purple had been thrown)<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like stern Diogenes to mock at men—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For sceptred Cynics Earth were far too wide a den. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_8">[8.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XLII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Quiet to quick bosoms is a Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And <i>there</i> hath been thy bane; there is a fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And motion of the Soul which will not dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In its own narrow being, but aspire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beyond the fitting medium of desire;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, but once kindled, quenchless evermore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Preys upon high adventure, nor can tire<a name="FNanchor_IA" id="FNanchor_IA"></a><a href="#Footnote_IA" class="fnanchor">[ia]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of aught but rest; a fever at the core,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fatal to him who bears, to all who ever bore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This makes the madmen who have made men mad<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Founders of sects and systems, to whom add<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs,<a name="FNanchor_IB" id="FNanchor_IB"></a><a href="#Footnote_IB" class="fnanchor">[ib]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And are themselves the fools to those they fool;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Envied, yet how unenviable! what stings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are theirs! One breast laid open were a school<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which would unteach Mankind the lust to shine or rule:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Their breath is agitation, and their life<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A storm whereon they ride, to sink at last,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And yet so nursed and bigoted to strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That should their days, surviving perils past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Melt to calm twilight, they feel overcast<a name="FNanchor_IC" id="FNanchor_IC"></a><a href="#Footnote_IC" class="fnanchor">[ic]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With sorrow and supineness, and so die;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even as a flame unfed, which runs to waste<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its own flickering, or a sword laid by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which eats into itself, and rusts ingloriously.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He who surpasses or subdues mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must look down on the hate of those below.<a name="FNanchor_ID" id="FNanchor_ID"></a><a href="#Footnote_ID" class="fnanchor">[id]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though high <i>above</i> the Sun of Glory glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And far <i>beneath</i> the Earth and Ocean spread,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Round</i> him are icy rocks, and loudly blow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Contending tempests on his naked head,<a name="FNanchor_IE" id="FNanchor_IE"></a><a href="#Footnote_IE" class="fnanchor">[ie]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thus reward the toils which to those summits led.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Away with these! true Wisdom's world will be<a name="FNanchor_IF" id="FNanchor_IF"></a><a href="#Footnote_IF" class="fnanchor">[if]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within its own creation, or in thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Maternal Nature! for who teems like thee,<a name="FNanchor_IG" id="FNanchor_IG"></a><a href="#Footnote_IG" class="fnanchor">[ig]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus on the banks of thy majestic Rhine?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span> +<span class="i2">There Harold gazes on a work divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A blending of all beauties; streams and dells,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fruit, foliage, crag, wood, cornfield, mountain, vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And chiefless castles breathing stern farewells<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From gray but leafy walls, where Ruin greenly dwells.<a name="FNanchor_IH" id="FNanchor_IH"></a><a href="#Footnote_IH" class="fnanchor">[ih]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All tenantless, save to the crannying Wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or holding dark communion with the Cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There was a day when they were young and proud;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Banners on high, and battles<a name="FNanchor_300" id="FNanchor_300"></a><a href="#Footnote_300" class="fnanchor">[300]</a> passed below;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But they who fought are in a bloody shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And those which waved are shredless dust ere now,<a name="FNanchor_II" id="FNanchor_II"></a><a href="#Footnote_II" class="fnanchor">[ii]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XLVIII" name="C3_XLVIII"></a>XLVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Beneath these battlements, within those walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each robber chief upheld his arméd halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doing his evil will, nor less elate<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Than mightier heroes of a longer date.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What want these outlaws conquerors should have<a name="FNanchor_IJ" id="FNanchor_IJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_IJ" class="fnanchor">[ij]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_9">[9.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But History's purchased page to call them great?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wider space—an ornamented grave?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their hopes were not less warm, their souls were full as brave.<a name="FNanchor_IK" id="FNanchor_IK"></a><a href="#Footnote_IK" class="fnanchor">[ik]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In their baronial feuds and single fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What deeds of prowess unrecorded died!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Love, which lent a blazon to their shields,<a name="FNanchor_301" id="FNanchor_301"></a><a href="#Footnote_301" class="fnanchor">[301]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With emblems well devised by amorous pride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through all the mail of iron hearts would glide;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But still their flame was fierceness, and drew on<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Keen contest and destruction near allied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many a tower for some fair mischief won,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Saw the discoloured Rhine beneath its ruin run.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>L.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Thou, exulting and abounding river!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making thy waves a blessing as they flow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through banks whose beauty would endure for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could man but leave thy bright creation so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor its fair promise from the surface mow<a name="FNanchor_IL" id="FNanchor_IL"></a><a href="#Footnote_IL" class="fnanchor">[il]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the sharp scythe of conflict, then to see<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[246]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thy valley of sweet waters, were to know<a name="FNanchor_302" id="FNanchor_302"></a><a href="#Footnote_302" class="fnanchor">[302]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth paved like Heaven—and to seem such to me,<a name="FNanchor_IM" id="FNanchor_IM"></a><a href="#Footnote_IM" class="fnanchor">[im]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even now what wants thy stream?—that it should Lethe be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A thousand battles have assailed thy banks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But these and half their fame have passed away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Slaughter heaped on high his weltering ranks:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their very graves are gone, and what are they?<a name="FNanchor_303" id="FNanchor_303"></a><a href="#Footnote_303" class="fnanchor">[303]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy tide washed down the blood of yesterday,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all was stainless, and on thy clear stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glassed, with its dancing light, the sunny ray;<a name="FNanchor_IN" id="FNanchor_IN"></a><a href="#Footnote_IN" class="fnanchor">[in]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But o'er the blacken'd memory's blighting dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy waves would vainly roll, all sweeping as they seem.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus Harold inly said, and passed along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet not insensible to all which here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awoke the jocund birds to early song<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In glens which might have made even exile dear:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[247]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Though on his brow were graven lines austere,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tranquil sternness, which had ta'en the place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of feelings fierier far but less severe—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Joy was not always absent from his face,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But o'er it in such scenes would steal with transient trace.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nor was all Love shut from him, though his days<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Passion had consumed themselves to dust.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is in vain that we would coldly gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On such as smile upon us; the heart must<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leap kindly back to kindness, though Disgust<a name="FNanchor_IO" id="FNanchor_IO"></a><a href="#Footnote_IO" class="fnanchor">[io]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath weaned it from all worldlings: thus he felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there was soft Remembrance, and sweet Trust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In one fond breast, to which his own would melt,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in its tenderer hour on that his bosom dwelt.<a name="FNanchor_304" id="FNanchor_304"></a><a href="#Footnote_304" class="fnanchor">[304]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And he had learned to love,—I know not why,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For this in such as him seems strange of mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The helpless looks of blooming Infancy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even in its earliest nurture; what subdued,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To change like this, a mind so far imbued<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With scorn of man, it little boots to know;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[248]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But thus it was; and though in solitude<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Small power the nipped affections have to grow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there was one soft breast, as hath been said,<a name="FNanchor_IP" id="FNanchor_IP"></a><a href="#Footnote_IP" class="fnanchor">[ip]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which unto his was bound by stronger ties<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than the church links withal; and—though unwed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That</i> love was pure—and, far above disguise,<a name="FNanchor_IQ" id="FNanchor_IQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_IQ" class="fnanchor">[iq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had stood the test of mortal enmities<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still undivided, and cemented more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By peril, dreaded most in female eyes;<a name="FNanchor_305" id="FNanchor_305"></a><a href="#Footnote_305" class="fnanchor">[305]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But this was firm, and from a foreign shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Well to that heart might his these absent greetings pour!<a name="FNanchor_IR" id="FNanchor_IR"></a><a href="#Footnote_IR" class="fnanchor">[ir]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_Song1" name="C3_Song1"></a>1.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[249]</a></span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The castled Crag of Drachenfels<a name="FNanchor_306" id="FNanchor_306"></a><a href="#Footnote_306" class="fnanchor">[306]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_10">[10.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i4">Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose breast of waters broadly swells<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Between the banks which bear the vine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And hills all rich with blossomed trees,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And fields which promise corn and wine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And scattered cities crowning these,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Whose far white walls along them shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Have strewed a scene, which I should see<br /></span> +<span class="i4">With double joy wert <i>thou</i> with me.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And hands which offer early flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Walk smiling o'er this Paradise;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Above, the frequent feudal towers<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through green leaves lift their walls of gray;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And many a rock which steeply lowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And noble arch in proud decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But one thing want these banks of Rhine,—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">I send the lilies given to me—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Though long before thy hand they touch,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[250]</a></span> +<span class="i4">I know that they must withered be,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But yet reject them not as such;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">For I have cherished them as dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Because they yet may meet thine eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And guide thy soul to mine even here,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">When thou behold'st them drooping nigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And know'st them gathered by the Rhine,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And offered from my heart to thine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">The river nobly foams and flows—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The charm of this enchanted ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And all its thousand turns disclose<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Some fresher beauty varying round:<br /></span> +<span class="i4">The haughtiest breast its wish might bound<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Through life to dwell delighted here;<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Nor could on earth a spot be found<br /></span> +<span class="i4">To Nature and to me so dear—<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Could thy dear eyes in following mine<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a small and simple Pyramid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crowning the summit of the verdant mound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beneath its base are Heroes' ashes hid—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[251]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Our enemy's—but let not that forbid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Honour to Marceau! o'er whose early tomb<a name="FNanchor_IS" id="FNanchor_IS"></a><a href="#Footnote_IS" class="fnanchor">[is]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tears, big tears, gushed from the rough soldier's lid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lamenting and yet envying such a doom,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Falling for France, whose rights he battled to resume.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LVII" name="C3_LVII"></a>LVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Brief, brave, and glorious was his young career,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His mourners were two hosts, his friends and foes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fitly may the stranger lingering here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pray for his gallant Spirit's bright repose;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For he was Freedom's Champion, one of those,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The few in number, who had not o'erstept<a name="FNanchor_307" id="FNanchor_307"></a><a href="#Footnote_307" class="fnanchor">[307]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The charter to chastise which she bestows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On such as wield her weapons; he had kept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The whiteness of his soul—and thus men o'er him wept. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_11">[11.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LVIII" name="C3_LVIII"></a>LVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here Ehrenbreitstein, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_12">[12.B.]</a> with her shattered wall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Black with the miner's blast, upon her height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet shows of what she was, when shell and ball<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rebounding idly on her strength did light:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Tower of Victory! from whence the flight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of baffled foes was watched along the plain:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[252]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But Peace destroyed what War could never blight,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laid those proud roofs bare to Summer's rain—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On which the iron shower for years had poured in vain.<a name="FNanchor_308" id="FNanchor_308"></a><a href="#Footnote_308" class="fnanchor">[308]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stranger fain would linger on his way!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine is a scene alike where souls united<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey<a name="FNanchor_IT" id="FNanchor_IT"></a><a href="#Footnote_IT" class="fnanchor">[it]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">On self-condemning bosoms, it were here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Nature, nor too sombre nor too gay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wild but not rude, awful yet not austere,<a name="FNanchor_IU" id="FNanchor_IU"></a><a href="#Footnote_IU" class="fnanchor">[iu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is to the mellow Earth as Autumn to the year.<a name="FNanchor_309" id="FNanchor_309"></a><a href="#Footnote_309" class="fnanchor">[309]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Adieu to thee again! a vain adieu!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There can be no farewell to scene like thine;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[253]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The mind is coloured by thy every hue;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if reluctantly the eyes resign<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their cherished gaze upon thee, lovely Rhine!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis with the thankful glance of parting praise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More mighty spots may rise—more glaring shine,<a name="FNanchor_IV" id="FNanchor_IV"></a><a href="#Footnote_IV" class="fnanchor">[iv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But none unite in one attaching maze<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The brilliant, fair, and soft,—the glories of old days,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The negligently grand, the fruitful bloom<a name="FNanchor_310" id="FNanchor_310"></a><a href="#Footnote_310" class="fnanchor">[310]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of coming ripeness, the white city's sheen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The rolling stream, the precipice's gloom,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The forest's growth, and Gothic walls between,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wild rocks shaped, as they had turrets been,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In mockery of man's art; and these withal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A race of faces happy as the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose fertile bounties here extend to all,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still springing o'er thy banks, though Empires near them fall.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[254]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But these recede. Above me are the Alps,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Palaces of Nature, whose vast walls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have pinnacled in clouds their snowy scalps,<a name="FNanchor_IW" id="FNanchor_IW"></a><a href="#Footnote_IW" class="fnanchor">[iw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And throned Eternity in icy halls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cold Sublimity, where forms and falls<a name="FNanchor_311" id="FNanchor_311"></a><a href="#Footnote_311" class="fnanchor">[311]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Avalanche—the thunderbolt of snow!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that expands the spirit, yet appals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gather around these summits, as to show<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How Earth may pierce to Heaven, yet leave vain man below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LXIII" name="C3_LXIII"></a>LXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ere these matchless heights I dare to scan,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a spot should not be passed in vain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morat! the proud, the patriot field! where man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May gaze on ghastly trophies of the slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor blush for those who conquered on that plain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here Burgundy bequeathed his tombless host,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[255]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A bony heap, through ages to remain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Themselves their monument;<a name="FNanchor_312" id="FNanchor_312"></a><a href="#Footnote_312" class="fnanchor">[312]</a>—the Stygian coast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Unsepulchred they roamed, and shrieked each wandering ghost. +<a name="FNanchor_IX" id="FNanchor_IX"></a><a href="#Footnote_IX" class="fnanchor">[ix]</a> +<a name="FNanchor_313" id="FNanchor_313"></a><a href="#Footnote_313" class="fnanchor">[313]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_13">[13.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">While Waterloo with Cannæ's carnage vies,<a name="FNanchor_314" id="FNanchor_314"></a><a href="#Footnote_314" class="fnanchor">[314]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Morat and Marathon twin names shall stand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They were true Glory's stainless victories,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Won by the unambitious heart and hand<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[256]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of a proud, brotherly, and civic band,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All unbought champions in no princely cause<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of vice-entailed Corruption; they no land<a name="FNanchor_IY" id="FNanchor_IY"></a><a href="#Footnote_IY" class="fnanchor">[iy]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Doomed to bewail the blasphemy of laws<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Making Kings' rights divine, by some Draconic clause.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LXV" name="C3_LXV"></a>LXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By a lone wall a lonelier column rears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A gray and grief-worn aspect of old days;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis the last remnant of the wreck of years,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And looks as with the wild-bewildered gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of one to stone converted by amaze,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still with consciousness; and there it stands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making a marvel that it not decays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the coeval pride of human hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Levelled Aventicum, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_14">[14.B.]</a> +hath strewed her subject lands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LXVI" name="C3_LXVI"></a>LXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And there—oh! sweet and sacred be the name!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Julia—the daughter—the devoted—gave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her youth to Heaven; her heart, beneath a claim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nearest to Heaven's, broke o'er a father's grave.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Justice is sworn 'gainst tears, and hers would crave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The life she lived in—but the Judge was just—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[257]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And then she died on him she could not save.<a name="FNanchor_IZ" id="FNanchor_IZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_IZ" class="fnanchor">[iz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their tomb was simple, and without a bust,<a name="FNanchor_JA" id="FNanchor_JA"></a><a href="#Footnote_JA" class="fnanchor">[ja]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And held within their urn one mind—one heart—one dust. +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_15">[15.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LXVII" name="C3_LXVII"></a>LXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But these are deeds which should not pass away,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And names that must not wither, though the Earth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forgets her empires with a just decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The enslavers and the enslaved—their death and birth;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The high, the mountain-majesty of Worth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should be—and shall, survivor of its woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from its immortality, look forth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_16">[16.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Imperishably pure beyond all things below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mirror where the stars and mountains view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stillness of their aspect in each trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its clear depth yields of their far height and hue:<a name="FNanchor_JB" id="FNanchor_JB"></a><a href="#Footnote_JB" class="fnanchor">[jb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is too much of Man here,<a name="FNanchor_315" id="FNanchor_315"></a><a href="#Footnote_315" class="fnanchor">[315]</a> to look through<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a fit mind the might which I behold;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[258]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But soon in me shall Loneliness renew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thoughts hid, but not less cherished than of old,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere mingling with the herd had penned me in their fold.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[259]</a></span>LXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All are not fit with them to stir and toil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor is it discontent to keep the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil<a name="FNanchor_JC" id="FNanchor_JC"></a><a href="#Footnote_JC" class="fnanchor">[jc]</a><a name="FNanchor_316" id="FNanchor_316"></a><a href="#Footnote_316" class="fnanchor">[316]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the hot throng, where we become the spoil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of our infection, till too late and long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We may deplore and struggle with the coil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In wretched interchange of wrong for wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Midst a contentious world, striving where none are strong.<a name="FNanchor_JD" id="FNanchor_JD"></a><a href="#Footnote_JD" class="fnanchor">[jd]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, in a moment, we may plunge our years<a name="FNanchor_317" id="FNanchor_317"></a><a href="#Footnote_317" class="fnanchor">[317]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In fatal penitence, and in the blight<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[260]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of our own Soul turn all our blood to tears,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And colour things to come with hues of Night;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The race of life becomes a hopeless flight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To those that walk in darkness: on the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The boldest steer but where their ports invite—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But there are wanderers o'er Eternity<a name="FNanchor_JE" id="FNanchor_JE"></a><a href="#Footnote_JE" class="fnanchor">[je]</a><a name="FNanchor_318" id="FNanchor_318"></a><a href="#Footnote_318" class="fnanchor">[318]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose bark drives on and on, and anchored ne'er shall be.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LXXI" name="C3_LXXI"></a>LXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is it not better, then, to be alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And love Earth only for its earthly sake?<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[261]</a></span> +<span class="i2">By the blue rushing of the arrowy<a name="FNanchor_319" id="FNanchor_319"></a><a href="#Footnote_319" class="fnanchor">[319]</a> +Rhone, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_17">[17.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the pure bosom of its nursing Lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which feeds it as a mother who doth make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fair but froward infant her own care,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kissing its cries away as these awake;—<a name="FNanchor_JF" id="FNanchor_JF"></a><a href="#Footnote_JF" class="fnanchor">[jf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is it not better thus our lives to wear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than join the crushing crowd, doomed to inflict or bear?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I live not in myself, but I become<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Portion of that around me; and to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">High mountains are a feeling, but the hum<a name="FNanchor_320" id="FNanchor_320"></a><a href="#Footnote_320" class="fnanchor">[320]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of human cities torture: I can see<a name="FNanchor_JG" id="FNanchor_JG"></a><a href="#Footnote_JG" class="fnanchor">[jg]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[262]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Nothing to loathe in Nature, save to be<a name="FNanchor_JH" id="FNanchor_JH"></a><a href="#Footnote_JH" class="fnanchor">[jh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A link reluctant in a fleshly chain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Classed among creatures, when the soul can flee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with the sky—the peak—the heaving plain<a name="FNanchor_JI" id="FNanchor_JI"></a><a href="#Footnote_JI" class="fnanchor">[ji]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Ocean, or the stars, mingle—and not in vain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus I am absorbed, and this is life:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I look upon the peopled desert past,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As on a place of agony and strife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, for some sin, to Sorrow I was cast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To act and suffer, but remount at last<a name="FNanchor_JJ" id="FNanchor_JJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_JJ" class="fnanchor">[jj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a fresh pinion; which I feel to spring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though young, yet waxing vigorous as the Blast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which it would cope with, on delighted wing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spurning the clay-cold bonds which round our being cling.<a name="FNanchor_JK" id="FNanchor_JK"></a><a href="#Footnote_JK" class="fnanchor">[jk]</a><a name="FNanchor_321" id="FNanchor_321"></a><a href="#Footnote_321" class="fnanchor">[321]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[263]</a></span>LXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And when, at length, the mind shall be all free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From what it hates in this degraded form,<a name="FNanchor_JL" id="FNanchor_JL"></a><a href="#Footnote_JL" class="fnanchor">[jl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reft of its carnal life, save what shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Existent happier in the fly and worm,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Elements to Elements conform,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And dust is as it should be, shall I not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feel all I see less dazzling but more warm?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bodiless thought? the Spirit of each spot?<a name="FNanchor_JM" id="FNanchor_JM"></a><a href="#Footnote_JM" class="fnanchor">[jm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which, even now, I share at times the immortal lot?<a name="FNanchor_322" id="FNanchor_322"></a><a href="#Footnote_322" class="fnanchor">[322]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Are not the mountains, waves, and skies, a part<a name="FNanchor_JN" id="FNanchor_JN"></a><a href="#Footnote_JN" class="fnanchor">[jn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of me and of my Soul, as I of them?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is not the love of these deep in my heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a pure passion? should I not contemn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All objects, if compared with these? and stem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A tide of suffering, rather than forego<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[264]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Such feelings for the hard and worldly phlegm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of those whose eyes are only turned below,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gazing upon the ground, with thoughts which dare not glow?<a name="FNanchor_JO" id="FNanchor_JO"></a><a href="#Footnote_JO" class="fnanchor">[jo]</a><a name="FNanchor_323" id="FNanchor_323"></a><a href="#Footnote_323" class="fnanchor">[323]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But this is not my theme; and I return<a name="FNanchor_JP" id="FNanchor_JP"></a><a href="#Footnote_JP" class="fnanchor">[jp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To that which is immediate, and require<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those who find contemplation in the urn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To look on One, whose dust was once all fire,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A native of the land where I respire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clear air for a while—a passing guest,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where he became a being,—whose desire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was to be glorious; 'twas a foolish quest,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The which to gain and keep, he sacrificed all rest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here the self-torturing sophist, wild Rousseau,<a name="FNanchor_JQ" id="FNanchor_JQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_JQ" class="fnanchor">[jq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The apostle of Affliction, he who threw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enchantment over Passion, and from Woe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wrung overwhelming eloquence, first drew<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[265]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The breath which made him wretched; yet he knew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How to make Madness beautiful, and cast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er erring deeds and thoughts, a heavenly hue<a name="FNanchor_JR" id="FNanchor_JR"></a><a href="#Footnote_JR" class="fnanchor">[jr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of words, like sunbeams, dazzling as they past<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The eyes, which o'er them shed tears feelingly and fast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His love was Passion's essence—as a tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On fire by lightning; with ethereal flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kindled he was, and blasted; for to be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus, and enamoured, were in him the same.<a name="FNanchor_JS" id="FNanchor_JS"></a><a href="#Footnote_JS" class="fnanchor">[js]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But his was not the love of living dame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor of the dead who rise upon our dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But of ideal Beauty, which became<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In him existence, and o'erflowing teems<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Along his burning page, distempered though it seems.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_LXXIX" name="C3_LXXIX"></a>LXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>This</i> breathed itself to life in Julie, <i>this</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Invested her with all that's wild and sweet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This hallowed, too, the memorable kiss <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_18">[18.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which every morn his fevered lip would greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From hers, who but with friendship his would meet;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But to that gentle touch, through brain and breast<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[266]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Flashed the thrilled Spirit's love-devouring heat;<a name="FNanchor_JT" id="FNanchor_JT"></a><a href="#Footnote_JT" class="fnanchor">[jt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In that absorbing sigh perchance more blest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than vulgar minds may be with all they seek possest.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His life was one long war with self-sought foes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or friends by him self-banished;<a name="FNanchor_324" id="FNanchor_324"></a><a href="#Footnote_324" class="fnanchor">[324]</a> for his mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind,<a name="FNanchor_JU" id="FNanchor_JU"></a><a href="#Footnote_JU" class="fnanchor">[ju]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he was phrensied, wherefore, who may know?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since cause might be which Skill could never find;<a name="FNanchor_JV" id="FNanchor_JV"></a><a href="#Footnote_JV" class="fnanchor">[jv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">But he was phrensied by disease or woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For then he was inspired,<a name="FNanchor_325" id="FNanchor_325"></a><a href="#Footnote_325" class="fnanchor">[325]</a> and from him came,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As from the Pythian's mystic cave of yore,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[267]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Those oracles which set the world in flame,<a name="FNanchor_326" id="FNanchor_326"></a><a href="#Footnote_326" class="fnanchor">[326]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor ceased to burn till kingdoms were no more:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did he not this for France? which lay before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bowed to the inborn tyranny of years?<a name="FNanchor_327" id="FNanchor_327"></a><a href="#Footnote_327" class="fnanchor">[327]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Broken and trembling to the yoke she bore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till by the voice of him and his compeers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roused up to too much wrath which follows o'ergrown fears?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They made themselves a fearful monument!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wreck of old opinions—things which grew,<a name="FNanchor_JW" id="FNanchor_JW"></a><a href="#Footnote_JW" class="fnanchor">[jw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Breathed from the birth of Time: the veil they rent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And what behind it lay, all earth shall view.<a name="FNanchor_JX" id="FNanchor_JX"></a><a href="#Footnote_JX" class="fnanchor">[jx]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[268]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But good with ill they also overthrew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaving but ruins, wherewith to rebuild<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon the same foundation, and renew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dungeons and thrones, which the same hour refilled,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As heretofore, because Ambition was self-willed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But this will not endure, nor be endured!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mankind have felt their strength, and made it felt.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They might have used it better, but, allured<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By their new vigour, sternly have they dealt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On one another; Pity ceased to melt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her once natural charities. But they,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who in Oppression's darkness caved had dwelt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They were not eagles, nourished with the day;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What marvel then, at times, if they mistook their prey?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What deep wounds ever closed without a scar?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heart's bleed longest, and but heal to wear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That which disfigures it; and they who war<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their own hopes, and have been vanquished, bear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Silence, but not submission: in his lair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fixed Passion holds his breath, until the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shall atone for years; none need despair:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It came—it cometh—and will come,—the power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To punish or forgive—in <i>one</i> we shall be slower.<a name="FNanchor_JY" id="FNanchor_JY"></a><a href="#Footnote_JY" class="fnanchor">[jy]</a><a name="FNanchor_328" id="FNanchor_328"></a><a href="#Footnote_328" class="fnanchor">[328]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[269]</a></span>LXXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To waft me from distraction; once I loved<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Torn Ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sounds sweet as if a Sister's voice reproved,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is the hush of night, and all between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mellowed and mingling, yet distinctly seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save darkened Jura,<a name="FNanchor_329" id="FNanchor_329"></a><a href="#Footnote_329" class="fnanchor">[329]</a> whose capt heights appear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Precipitously steep; and drawing near,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There breathes a living fragrance from the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of flowers yet fresh with childhood; on the ear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Drops the light drip of the suspended oar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[270]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He is an evening reveller, who makes<a name="FNanchor_JZ" id="FNanchor_JZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_JZ" class="fnanchor">[jz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">His life an infancy, and sings his fill;<a name="FNanchor_KA" id="FNanchor_KA"></a><a href="#Footnote_KA" class="fnanchor">[ka]</a><a name="FNanchor_330" id="FNanchor_330"></a><a href="#Footnote_330" class="fnanchor">[330]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">At intervals, some bird from out the brakes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Starts into voice a moment, then is still.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There seems a floating whisper on the hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But that is fancy—for the Starlight dews<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All silently their tears of Love instil,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Weeping themselves away, till they infuse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deep into Nature's breast the spirit of her hues.<a name="FNanchor_KB" id="FNanchor_KB"></a><a href="#Footnote_KB" class="fnanchor">[kb]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye Stars! which are the poetry of Heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If in your bright leaves we would read the fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of men and empires,—'tis to be forgiven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in our aspirations to be great,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And claim a kindred with you; for ye are<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Beauty and a Mystery, and create<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In us such love and reverence from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Fortune,—Fame,—Power,—Life, have named themselves a Star.<a name="FNanchor_331" id="FNanchor_331"></a><a href="#Footnote_331" class="fnanchor">[331]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[271]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All Heaven and Earth are still—though not in sleep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But breathless, as we grow when feeling most;<a name="FNanchor_332" id="FNanchor_332"></a><a href="#Footnote_332" class="fnanchor">[332]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All Heaven and Earth are still: From the high host<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of stars, to the lulled lake and mountain-coast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All is concentered in a life intense,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But hath a part of Being, and a sense<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of that which is of all Creator and Defence.<a name="FNanchor_333" id="FNanchor_333"></a><a href="#Footnote_333" class="fnanchor">[333]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[272]</a></span>XC.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then stirs the feeling infinite, so felt<a name="FNanchor_KC" id="FNanchor_KC"></a><a href="#Footnote_KC" class="fnanchor">[kc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In solitude, where we are <i>least</i> alone;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A truth, which through our being then doth melt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And purifies from self: it is a tone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The soul and source of Music, which makes known<a name="FNanchor_KD" id="FNanchor_KD"></a><a href="#Footnote_KD" class="fnanchor">[kd]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Eternal harmony, and sheds a charm<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like to the fabled Cytherea's zone,<a name="FNanchor_334" id="FNanchor_334"></a><a href="#Footnote_334" class="fnanchor">[334]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Binding all things with beauty;—'twould disarm<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The spectre Death, had he substantial power to harm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XCI" name="C3_XCI"></a>XCI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not vainly did the early Persian make<a name="FNanchor_335" id="FNanchor_335"></a><a href="#Footnote_335" class="fnanchor">[335]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">His altar the high places, and the peak<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[273]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of earth-o'ergazing mountains,<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_19">[19.B.]</a>—and thus take<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fit and unwalled temple, there to seek<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Spirit, in whose honour shrines are weak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upreared of human hands. Come, and compare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Columns and idol-dwellings—Goth or Greek—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Nature's realms of worship, earth and air—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor fix on fond abodes to circumscribe thy prayer!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_XCII" name="C3_XCII"></a>XCII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sky is changed!—and such a change! Oh Night, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_20">[20.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Storm, and Darkness, ye are wondrous strong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a dark eye in Woman!<a name="FNanchor_336" id="FNanchor_336"></a><a href="#Footnote_336" class="fnanchor">[336]</a> Far along,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From peak to peak, the rattling crags among<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Leaps the live thunder! Not from one lone cloud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But every mountain now hath found a tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Jura answers, through her misty shroud,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Back to the joyous Alps, who call to her aloud!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And this is in the Night:—Most glorious Night!<a name="FNanchor_KE" id="FNanchor_KE"></a><a href="#Footnote_KE" class="fnanchor">[ke]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wert not sent for slumber! let me be<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[274]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A sharer in thy fierce and far delight,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A portion of the tempest and of thee!<a name="FNanchor_KF" id="FNanchor_KF"></a><a href="#Footnote_KF" class="fnanchor">[kf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">How the lit lake shines, a phosphoric sea,<a name="FNanchor_KG" id="FNanchor_KG"></a><a href="#Footnote_KG" class="fnanchor">[kg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the big rain comes dancing to the earth!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now again 'tis black,—and now, the glee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the loud hills shakes with its mountain-mirth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if they did rejoice o'er a young Earthquake's birth.<a name="FNanchor_KH" id="FNanchor_KH"></a><a href="#Footnote_KH" class="fnanchor">[kh]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, where the swift Rhone cleaves his way between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heights which appear as lovers who have parted<a name="FNanchor_KI" id="FNanchor_KI"></a><a href="#Footnote_KI" class="fnanchor">[ki]</a><a name="FNanchor_337" id="FNanchor_337"></a><a href="#Footnote_337" class="fnanchor">[337]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though in their souls, which thus each other thwarted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love was the very root of the fond rage<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[275]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which blighted their life's bloom, and then departed:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Itself expired, but leaving them an age<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of years all winters,—war within themselves to wage:<a name="FNanchor_KJ" id="FNanchor_KJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_KJ" class="fnanchor">[kj]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<h4>XCV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Now, where the quick Rhone thus hath cleft his way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mightiest of the storms hath ta'en his stand:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For here, not one, but many, make their play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fling their thunder-bolts from hand to hand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flashing and cast around: of all the band,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The brightest through these parted hills hath forked<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His lightnings,—as if he did understand,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That in such gaps as Desolation worked,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There the hot shaft should blast whatever therein lurked.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sky—Mountains—River—Winds—Lake—Lightnings! ye!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With night, and clouds, and thunder—and a Soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To make these felt and feeling, well may be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Things that have made me watchful; the far roll<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of your departing voices, is the knoll<a name="FNanchor_338" id="FNanchor_338"></a><a href="#Footnote_338" class="fnanchor">[338]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of what in me is sleepless,—if I rest.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[276]</a></span> +<span class="i2">But where of ye, O Tempests! is the goal?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are ye like those within the human breast?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or do ye find, at length, like eagles, some high nest?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Could I embody and unbosom now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That which is most within me,—could I wreak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts upon expression, and thus throw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Soul—heart—mind—passions—feelings—strong or weak—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All that I would have sought, and all I seek,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bear, know, feel—and yet breathe—into <i>one</i> word,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And that one word were Lightning, I would speak;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But as it is, I live and die unheard,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With a most voiceless thought, sheathing it as a sword.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Morn is up again, the dewy Morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And living as if earth contained no tomb,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And glowing into day: we may resume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The march of our existence: and thus I,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Still on thy shores, fair Leman! may find room<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And food for meditation, nor pass by<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Much, that may give us pause, if pondered fittingly.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[277]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C3_XCIX" name="C3_XCIX"></a>XCIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clarens! sweet Clarens<a name="FNanchor_339" id="FNanchor_339"></a><a href="#Footnote_339" class="fnanchor">[339]</a> birthplace of deep Love!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thine air is the young breath of passionate Thought;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy trees take root in Love; the snows above,<a name="FNanchor_KK" id="FNanchor_KK"></a><a href="#Footnote_KK" class="fnanchor">[kk]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very Glaciers have his colours caught,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[278]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And Sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_21">[21.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">By rays which sleep there lovingly: the rocks,<a name="FNanchor_KL" id="FNanchor_KL"></a><a href="#Footnote_KL" class="fnanchor">[kl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The permanent crags, tell here of Love, who sought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In them a refuge from the worldly shocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which stir and sting the Soul with Hope that woos, then mocks.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>C.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Clarens! by heavenly feet thy paths are trod,—<a name="FNanchor_KM" id="FNanchor_KM"></a><a href="#Footnote_KM" class="fnanchor">[km]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Undying Love's, who here ascends a throne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To which the steps are mountains; where the God<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is a pervading Life and Light,—so shown<a name="FNanchor_KN" id="FNanchor_KN"></a><a href="#Footnote_KN" class="fnanchor">[kn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not on those summits solely, nor alone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the still cave and forest; o'er the flower<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His eye is sparkling, and his breath hath blown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His soft and summer breath, whose tender power<a name="FNanchor_KO" id="FNanchor_KO"></a><a href="#Footnote_KO" class="fnanchor">[ko]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Passes the strength of storms in their most desolate hour.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All things are here of <i>Him</i>; from the black pines,<a name="FNanchor_340" id="FNanchor_340"></a><a href="#Footnote_340" class="fnanchor">[340]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which are his shade on high, and the loud roar<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[279]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of torrents, where he listeneth, to the vines<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which slope his green path downward to the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the bowed Waters meet him, and adore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kissing his feet with murmurs; and the Wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The covert of old trees, with trunks all hoar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But light leaves, young as joy, stands where it stood,<a name="FNanchor_KP" id="FNanchor_KP"></a><a href="#Footnote_KP" class="fnanchor">[kp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Offering to him, and his, a populous solitude.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A populous solitude of bees and birds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fairy-formed and many-coloured things,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who worship him with notes more sweet than words,<a name="FNanchor_KQ" id="FNanchor_KQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_KQ" class="fnanchor">[kq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And innocently open their glad wings,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fearless and full of life: the gush of springs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fall of lofty fountains, and the bend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of stirring branches, and the bud which brings<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The swiftest thought of Beauty, here extend<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mingling—and made by Love—unto one mighty end.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He who hath loved not, here would learn that lore,<a name="FNanchor_341" id="FNanchor_341"></a><a href="#Footnote_341" class="fnanchor">[341]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And make his heart a spirit; he who knows<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[280]</a></span> +<span class="i2">That tender mystery, will love the more;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For this is Love's recess, where vain men's woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the world's waste, have driven him far from those,<a name="FNanchor_KR" id="FNanchor_KR"></a><a href="#Footnote_KR" class="fnanchor">[kr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">For 'tis his nature to advance or die;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He stands not still, but or decays, or grows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Into a boundless blessing, which may vie<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With the immortal lights, in its eternity!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twas not for fiction chose Rousseau this spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Peopling it with affections; but he found<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It was the scene which Passion must allot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the Mind's purified beings; 'twas the ground<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where early Love his Psyche's zone unbound,<a name="FNanchor_342" id="FNanchor_342"></a><a href="#Footnote_342" class="fnanchor">[342]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hallowed it with loveliness: 'tis lone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wonderful, and deep, and hath a sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sense, and sight of sweetness; here the Rhone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath spread himself a couch, the Alps have reared a throne.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_CV" name="C3_CV"></a>CV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lausanne! and Ferney! ye have been the abodes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Names which unto you bequeathed a name; <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_22">[22.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mortals, who sought and found, by dangerous roads,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A path to perpetuity of Fame:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[281]</a></span> +<span class="i2">They were gigantic minds, and their steep aim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was, Titan-like, on daring doubts to pile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thoughts which should call down thunder, and the flame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Heaven again assailed—if Heaven, the while,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On man and man's research could deign do more than smile.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The one was fire and fickleness,<a name="FNanchor_343" id="FNanchor_343"></a><a href="#Footnote_343" class="fnanchor">[343]</a> a child<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Most mutable in wishes, but in mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A wit as various,—gay, grave, sage, or wild,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Historian, bard, philosopher, combined;<a name="FNanchor_KS" id="FNanchor_KS"></a><a href="#Footnote_KS" class="fnanchor">[ks]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">He multiplied himself among mankind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Proteus of their talents: But his own<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[282]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Breathed most in ridicule,—which, as the wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blew where it listed, laying all things prone,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now to o'erthrow a fool, and now to shake a throne.<a name="FNanchor_344" id="FNanchor_344"></a><a href="#Footnote_344" class="fnanchor">[344]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The other, deep and slow, exhausting thought,<a name="FNanchor_KT" id="FNanchor_KT"></a><a href="#Footnote_KT" class="fnanchor">[kt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hiving wisdom with each studious year,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In meditation dwelt—with learning wrought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shaped his weapon with an edge severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sapping a solemn creed with solemn sneer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lord of irony,—that master-spell,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[283]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which stung his foes to wrath, which grew from fear<a name="FNanchor_KU" id="FNanchor_KU"></a><a href="#Footnote_KU" class="fnanchor">[ku]</a><a name="FNanchor_345" id="FNanchor_345"></a><a href="#Footnote_345" class="fnanchor">[345]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And doomed him to the zealot's ready Hell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which answers to all doubts so eloquently well.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, peace be with their ashes,—for by them,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If merited, the penalty is paid;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is not ours to judge,—far less condemn;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hour must come when such things shall be made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Known unto all,—or hope and dread allayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By slumber, on one pillow, in the dust,<a name="FNanchor_KV" id="FNanchor_KV"></a><a href="#Footnote_KV" class="fnanchor">[kv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which, thus much we are sure, must lie decayed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when it shall revive, as is our trust,<a name="FNanchor_346" id="FNanchor_346"></a><a href="#Footnote_346" class="fnanchor">[346]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twill be to be forgiven—or suffer what is just.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[284]</a></span>CIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But let me quit Man's works, again to read<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His Maker's, spread around me, and suspend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This page, which from my reveries I feed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until it seems prolonging without end.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The clouds above me to the white Alps tend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I must pierce them, and survey whate'er<a name="FNanchor_347" id="FNanchor_347"></a><a href="#Footnote_347" class="fnanchor">[347]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">May be permitted, as my steps I bend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To their most great and growing region, where<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The earth to her embrace compels the powers of air.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Italia too! Italia! looking on thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Full flashes on the Soul the light of ages,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since the fierce Carthaginian almost won thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the last halo of the Chiefs and Sages<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who glorify thy consecrated pages;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou wert the throne and grave of empires; still,<a name="FNanchor_348" id="FNanchor_348"></a><a href="#Footnote_348" class="fnanchor">[348]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[285]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The fount at which the panting Mind assuages<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her thirst of knowledge, quaffing there her fill,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Flows from the eternal source of Rome's imperial hill.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus far have I proceeded in a theme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Renewed with no kind auspices:—to feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We are not what we have been, and to deem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We are not what we should be,—and to steel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The heart against itself; and to conceal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a proud caution, love, or hate, or aught,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Passion or feeling, purpose, grief, or zeal,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is the tyrant Spirit of our thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is a stern task of soul:—No matter,—it is taught.<a name="FNanchor_349" id="FNanchor_349"></a><a href="#Footnote_349" class="fnanchor">[349]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And for these words, thus woven into song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It may be that they are a harmless wile,—<a name="FNanchor_KW" id="FNanchor_KW"></a><a href="#Footnote_KW" class="fnanchor">[kw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The colouring of the scenes which fleet along,<a name="FNanchor_KX" id="FNanchor_KX"></a><a href="#Footnote_KX" class="fnanchor">[kx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which I would seize, in passing, to beguile<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[286]</a></span> +<span class="i2">My breast, or that of others, for a while.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fame is the thirst of youth,—but I am not<a name="FNanchor_KY" id="FNanchor_KY"></a><a href="#Footnote_KY" class="fnanchor">[ky]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">So young as to regard men's frown or smile,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As loss or guerdon of a glorious lot;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I stood and stand alone,—remembered or forgot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_CXIII" name="C3_CXIII"></a>CXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have not loved the World, nor the World me;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have not flattered its rank breath,<a name="FNanchor_350" id="FNanchor_350"></a><a href="#Footnote_350" class="fnanchor">[350]</a> nor bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To its idolatries a patient knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor coined my cheek to smiles,—nor cried aloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In worship of an echo: in the crowd<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They could not deem me one of such—I stood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among them, but not of them<a name="FNanchor_351" id="FNanchor_351"></a><a href="#Footnote_351" class="fnanchor">[351]</a>—in a shroud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued. <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_23">[23.B.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C3_CXIV" name="C3_CXIV"></a>CXIV.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[287]</a></span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I have not loved the World, nor the World me,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But let us part fair foes; I do believe,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though I have found them not, that there may be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Words which are things,—hopes which will not deceive,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Virtues which are merciful, nor weave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Snares for the failing; I would also deem<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve—<a name="FNanchor_KZ" id="FNanchor_KZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_KZ" class="fnanchor">[kz]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_3_24">[24.B.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">That two, or one, are almost what they seem,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Goodness is no name—and Happiness no dream.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXV.<a name="FNanchor_352" id="FNanchor_352"></a><a href="#Footnote_352" class="fnanchor">[352]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My daughter! with thy name this song begun!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My daughter! with thy name thus much shall end!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I see thee not—I hear thee not—but none<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Can be so wrapt in thee; Thou art the Friend<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom the shadows of far years extend:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Albeit my brow thou never should'st behold,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My voice shall with thy future visions blend,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And reach into thy heart,—when mine is cold,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A token and a tone, even from thy father's mould.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[288]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To aid thy mind's developement,—to watch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy dawn of little joys,—to sit and see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Almost thy very growth,—to view thee catch<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Knowledge of objects,—wonders yet to thee!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hold thee lightly on a gentle knee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And print on thy soft cheek a parent's kiss,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This, it should seem, was not reserved for me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet this was in my nature:—as it is,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I know not what is there, yet something like to this.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, though dull Hate as duty should be taught,<a name="FNanchor_353" id="FNanchor_353"></a><a href="#Footnote_353" class="fnanchor">[353]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know that thou wilt love me: though my name<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[289]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Should be shut from thee, as a spell still fraught<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With desolation, and a broken claim:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though the grave closed between us,—'twere the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I know that thou wilt love me—though to drain<a name="FNanchor_354" id="FNanchor_354"></a><a href="#Footnote_354" class="fnanchor">[354]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>My</i> blood from out thy being were an aim,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And an attainment,—all would be in vain,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Still thou would'st love me, still that more than life retain.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The child of Love!<a name="FNanchor_355" id="FNanchor_355"></a><a href="#Footnote_355" class="fnanchor">[355]</a> though born in bitterness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nurtured in Convulsion! Of thy sire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These were the elements,—and thine no less.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As yet such are around thee,—but thy fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be more tempered, and thy hope far higher!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sweet be thy cradled slumbers! O'er the sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from the mountains where I now respire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fain would I waft such blessing upon thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As—with a sigh—I deem thou might'st have been to me!<a name="FNanchor_LA" id="FNanchor_LA"></a><a href="#Footnote_LA" class="fnanchor">[la]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_275" id="Footnote_275"></a><a href="#FNanchor_275"><span class="label">[275]</span></a> <a id="Note_209" name="Note_209">{209}</a> [D'Alembert (Jean-le-Rond, philosopher, +mathematician, and belletrist, 1717-1783) had recently lost his friend, +Mlle. (Claire Françoise) L'Espinasse, who died May 23, 1776. Frederick +prescribes <i>quelque problème bien difficile à résoudre</i> as a remedy for +vain regrets (<i>Oeuvres de Frédéric II., Roi de Prusse</i>, 1790, xiv. 64, +65).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_276" id="Footnote_276"></a><a href="#FNanchor_276"><span class="label">[276]</span></a> <a id="Note_215" name="Note_215">{215}</a> ["If you turn over the earlier pages of the +Huntingdon peerage story, you will see how common a name Ada was in the +early Plantagenet days. I found it in my own pedigree in the reigns of +John and Henry.... It is short, ancient, vocalic, and had been in my +family; for which reasons I gave it to my daughter."—Letter to Murray, +Ravenna, October 8, 1820. +</p><p> +The Honourable Augusta Ada Byron was born December 10, 1815; was married +July 8, 1835, to William King Noel (1805-1893), eighth Baron King, +created Earl of Lovelace, 1838; and died November 27, 1852. There were +three children of the marriage—Viscount Ockham (d. 1862), the present +Earl of Lovelace, and the Lady Anna Isabella Noel, who was married to +Wilfrid Scawen Blunt, Esq., in 1869. +</p><p> +"The Countess of Lovelace," wrote a contributor to the <i>Examiner</i>, +December 4, 1852, "was thoroughly original, and the poet's temperament +was all that was hers in common with her father. Her genius, for genius +she possessed, was not poetic, but metaphysical and mathematical, her +mind having been in the constant practice of investigation, and with +rigour and exactness." Of her devotion to science, and her original +powers as a mathematician, her translation and explanatory notes of F. +L. Menabrea's <i>Notices sur le machine Analytique de Mr. Babbage</i>, 1842, +a defence of the famous "calculating machine," remain as evidence. +</p><p> +"Those who view mathematical science not merely as a vast body of +abstract and immutable truths, ... but as possessing a yet deeper +interest for the human race, when it is remembered that this science +constitutes the language through which alone we can adequately express +the great facts of the natural world ... those who thus think on +mathematical truth as the instrument through which the weak mind of man +can most effectually read his Creator's works, will regard with especial +interest all that can tend to facilitate the translation of its +principles into explicit practical forms." So, for the moment turning +away from algebraic formulæ and abstruse calculations, wrote Ada, Lady +Lovelace, in her twenty-eighth year. See "Translator's Notes," signed A. +A. L., to <i>A Sketch of the Analytical Engine invented by Charles +Babbage, Esq.</i>, London, 1843. +</p><p> +It would seem, however, that she "wore her learning lightly as a +flower." "Her manners [<i>Examiner</i>], her tastes, her accomplishments, in +many of which, music especially, she was proficient, were feminine in +the nicest sense of the word." Unlike her father in features, or in the +bent of her mind, she inherited his mental vigour and intensity of +purpose. Like him, she died in her thirty-seventh year, and at her own +request her coffin was placed by his in the vault at Hucknall Torkard. +(See, too, <i>Athenæum</i>, December 4, 1852, and <i>Gent. Mag.</i>, January, +1853.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GH" id="Footnote_GH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GH"><span class="label">[gh]</span></a> <a id="Note_216" name="Note_216">{216}</a> <i>could grieve my gazing eye.</i>—[C. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_277" id="Footnote_277"></a><a href="#FNanchor_277"><span class="label">[277]</span></a> Compare <i>Henry V.</i>, act iii. sc. 1, line 1—"Once more +unto the breach, dear friends, once more."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_278" id="Footnote_278"></a><a href="#FNanchor_278"><span class="label">[278]</span></a> <a id="Note_217" name="Note_217">{217}</a> [Compare <i>The Two Noble Kinsmen</i> (now attributed to +Shakespeare, Fletcher, and Massinger), act ii. sc. 1, lines 73, <i>seq.</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i32">"Oh, never<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall we two exercise like twins of Honour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our arms again, and feel our fiery horses<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like proud seas under us."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +"Out of this somewhat forced simile," says the editor (John Wright) of +Lord Byron's <i>Poetical Works</i>, issued in 1832, "by a judicious +transposition of the comparison, and by the substitution of the more +definite <i>waves</i> for <i>seas</i>, Lord Byron's clear and noble thought has +been produced." But the literary artifice, if such there be, is +subordinate to the emotion of the writer. It is in movement, progress, +flight, that the sufferer experiences a relief from the poignancy of his +anguish.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GI" id="Footnote_GI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GI"><span class="label">[gi]</span></a> <i>And the rent canvass tattering</i>——.—[C.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_279" id="Footnote_279"></a><a href="#FNanchor_279"><span class="label">[279]</span></a> ["The metaphor is derived from a torrent-bed, which, when +dried up, serves for a sandy or shingly path."—Note by H. F. Tozer, +<i>Childe Harold</i>, 1885, p. 257. Or, perhaps, the imagery has been +suggested by the action of a flood, which ploughs a channel for itself +through fruitful soil, and, when the waters are spent, leaves behind it +"a sterile track," which does, indeed, permit the traveller to survey +the desolation, but serves no other purpose of use or beauty.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GJ" id="Footnote_GJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GJ"><span class="label">[gj]</span></a> <a id="Note_218" name="Note_218">{218}</a> <i>I would essay of all I sang to sing</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_280" id="Footnote_280"></a><a href="#FNanchor_280"><span class="label">[280]</span></a> [Compare Manfred, act ii. sc. 1, lines 51, 52— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Think'st thou existence doth depend on time?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It doth; but actions are our epoch."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GK" id="Footnote_GK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GK"><span class="label">[gk]</span></a> <a id="Note_219" name="Note_219">{219}</a> <i>Still unimpaired though worn</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_281" id="Footnote_281"></a><a href="#FNanchor_281"><span class="label">[281]</span></a> [It is the poet's fond belief that he can find the true +reality in "the things that are not seen." +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Out of these create he can<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms more real than living man—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nurslings of Immortality."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +"Life is but thought," and by the power of the imagination he thinks to +"gain a being more intense," to add a cubit to his spiritual stature. +Byron professes the same faith in <i>The Dream</i> (stanza i. lines 19-22), +which also belongs to the summer of 1816— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">"The mind can make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Substance, and people planets of its own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beings brighter than have been, and give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +At this stage of his poetic growth, in part converted by Shelley, in +part by Wordsworth as preached by Shelley, Byron, so to speak, "got +religion," went over for a while to the Church of the mystics. There +was, too, a compulsion from within. Life had gone wrong with him, and, +driven from memory and reflection, he looks for redemption in the new +earth which Imagination and Nature held in store.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GL" id="Footnote_GL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GL"><span class="label">[gl]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>A brighter being that we thus endow</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With form our fancies</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GM" id="Footnote_GM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GM"><span class="label">[gm]</span></a> <a id="Note_220" name="Note_220">{220}</a> <i>A dizzy world</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_282" id="Footnote_282"></a><a href="#FNanchor_282"><span class="label">[282]</span></a> [Compare <i>The Dream</i>, viii. 6, <i>seq</i>.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i23">"Pain was mixed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In all which was served up to him, until<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">He fed on poisons, and they had no power,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But were a kind of nutriment."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GN" id="Footnote_GN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GN"><span class="label">[gn]</span></a> <i>To bear unbent what Time cannot abate</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_283" id="Footnote_283"></a><a href="#FNanchor_283"><span class="label">[283]</span></a> [Of himself as distinct from Harold he will say no more. +On the tale or spell of his own tragedy is set the seal of silence; but +of Harold, the idealized Byron, he once more takes up the parable. In +stanzas viii.-xv. he puts the reader in possession of some natural +changes, and unfolds the development of thought and feeling which had +befallen the Pilgrim since last they had journeyed together. The +youthful Harold had sounded the depth of joy and woe. Man delighted him +not—no, nor woman neither. For a time, however, he had cured himself of +this trick of sadness. He had drunk new life from the fountain of +natural beauty and antique lore, and had returned to take his part in +the world, inly armed against dangers and temptations. And in the world +he had found beauty, and fame had found him. What wonder that he had +done as others use, and then discovered that he could not fare as others +fared? Henceforth there remained no comfort but in nature, no refuge but +in exile!]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GO" id="Footnote_GO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GO"><span class="label">[go]</span></a> <a id="Note_221" name="Note_221">{221}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>He of the breast that strove no more to feel,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Scarred with the wounds</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GP" id="Footnote_GP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GP"><span class="label">[gp]</span></a> <a id="Note_222" name="Note_222">{222}</a> <i>Secure in curbing coldness</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GQ" id="Footnote_GQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GQ"><span class="label">[gq]</span></a> <i>Shines through the wonder-works—of God and Nature's +hand</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GR" id="Footnote_GR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GR"><span class="label">[gr]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Who can behold the flower at noon, nor seek</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>To pluck it? who can stedfastly behold</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GS" id="Footnote_GS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GS"><span class="label">[gs]</span></a> <i>Nor feel how Wisdom ceases to be cold</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_284" id="Footnote_284"></a><a href="#FNanchor_284"><span class="label">[284]</span></a> [The Temple of Fame is on the summit of a mountain; +"Clouds overcome it;" but to the uplifted eye the mists dispel, and +behold the goddess pointing to her star—the star of glory!]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GT" id="Footnote_GT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GT"><span class="label">[gt]</span></a> <a id="Note_223" name="Note_223">{223}</a> <i>Yet with a steadier step than in his earlier +time</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_285" id="Footnote_285"></a><a href="#FNanchor_285"><span class="label">[285]</span></a> [Compare <i>Manfred</i>, act ii. sc. 2, lines 50-58— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i18">"From my youth upwards<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My spirit walked not with the souls of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor looked upon the earth with human eyes;<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">My joys, my griefs, my passions, and my powers<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made me a stranger; though I wore the form,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I had no sympathy with breathing flesh."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Compare, too, with stanzas xiii., xiv., <i>ibid</i>., lines 58-72.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GU" id="Footnote_GU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GU"><span class="label">[gu]</span></a> <i>Fool he not to know</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GV" id="Footnote_GV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GV"><span class="label">[gv]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Where there were mountains there for him were friends</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where there was Ocean—there he was at home</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GW" id="Footnote_GW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GW"><span class="label">[gw]</span></a> <a id="Note_224" name="Note_224">{224}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Like the Chaldean he could gaze on stars</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>adored the stars</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GX" id="Footnote_GX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GX"><span class="label">[gx]</span></a> <i>That keeps us from that Heaven on which we love to +think</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GY" id="Footnote_GY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GY"><span class="label">[gy]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>But in Man's dwelling—Harold was a thing</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Restless and worn, and cold and wearisome</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_286" id="Footnote_286"></a><a href="#FNanchor_286"><span class="label">[286]</span></a> <a id="Note_225" name="Note_225">{225}</a> [In this stanza the mask is thrown aside, and "the +real Lord Byron" appears <i>in propriâ personâ</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_287" id="Footnote_287"></a><a href="#FNanchor_287"><span class="label">[287]</span></a> [The mound with the Belgian lion was erected by William +I. of Holland, in 1823.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_GZ" id="Footnote_GZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_GZ"><span class="label">[gz]</span></a> <a id="Note_226" name="Note_226">{226}</a> <i>None; but the moral truth tells simpler +so</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_288" id="Footnote_288"></a><a href="#FNanchor_288"><span class="label">[288]</span></a> [Stanzas xvii., xviii., were written after a visit to +Waterloo. When Byron was in Brussels, a friend of his boyhood, Pryse +Lockhart Gordon, called upon him and offered his services. He escorted +him to the field of Waterloo, and received him at his house in the +evening. Mrs. Gordon produced her album, and begged for an autograph. +The next morning Byron copied into the album the two stanzas which he +had written the day before. Lines 5-8 of the second stanza (xviii.) ran +thus— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here his last flight the haughty Eagle flew,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Then tore with bloody beak the fatal plain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pierced with the shafts of banded nations through ..."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The autograph suggested an illustration to an artist, R. R. Reinagle +(1775-1863), "a pencil-sketch of a spirited chained eagle, grasping the +earth with his talons." Gordon showed the vignette to Byron, who wrote +in reply, "Reinagle is a better poet and a better ornithologist than I +am; eagles and all birds of prey attack with their talons and not with +their beaks, and I have altered the line thus— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Then tore with bloody talon the rent plain.'"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +(See <i>Personal Memoirs of Pryse Lockhart Gordon</i>, 1830, ii. 327, 328.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HA" id="Footnote_HA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HA"><span class="label">[ha]</span></a> ——<i>and still must be</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HB" id="Footnote_HB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HB"><span class="label">[hb]</span></a> ——<i>the fatal Waterloo</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HC" id="Footnote_HC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HC"><span class="label">[hc]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Here his last flight the haughty eagle flew</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Then bit with bloody beak the rent plain</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Then tore with bloody beak</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HD" id="Footnote_HD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HD"><span class="label">[hd]</span></a> <a id="Note_227" name="Note_227">{227}</a> <i>And Gaul must wear the links of her own broken +chain</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_289" id="Footnote_289"></a><a href="#FNanchor_289"><span class="label">[289]</span></a> [With this "obstinate questioning" of the final import +and outcome of "that world-famous Waterloo," compare the <i>Ode from the +French</i>, "We do not curse thee, Waterloo," written in 1815, and +published by John Murray in <i>Poems</i> (1816). Compare, too, <i>The Age of +Waterloo</i>, v. 93, "Oh, bloody and most bootless Waterloo!" and <i>Don +Juan</i>, Canto VIII. stanzas xlviii.-l., etc. Shelley, too, in his sonnet +on the <i>Feelings of a Republican on the Fall of Bonaparte</i> (1816), +utters a like lament (Shelley's <i>Works</i>, 1895, ii. 385)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i32">"I know<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too late, since thou and France are in the dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That Virtue owns a more eternal foe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bloody Faith, the foulest birth of Time."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Even Wordsworth, after due celebration of this "victory sublime," in his +sonnet <i>Emperors and Kings, etc.</i> (<i>Works</i>, 1889, p. 557), solemnly +admonishes the "powers"— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be just, be grateful; nor, the oppressor's creed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reviving heavier chastisement deserve<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ever forced unpitied hearts to bleed."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +But the Laureate had no misgivings, and in <i>The Poet's Pilgrimage</i>, iv. +60, celebrates the national apotheosis— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Peace hath she won ... with her victorious hand<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath won thro' rightful war auspicious peace;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor this alone, but that in every land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The withering rule of violence may cease.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was ever War with such blest victory crowned!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did ever Victory with such fruits abound!"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HE" id="Footnote_HE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HE"><span class="label">[he]</span></a> <a id="Note_228" name="Note_228">{228}</a> <i>Or league to teach their kings</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_290" id="Footnote_290"></a><a href="#FNanchor_290"><span class="label">[290]</span></a> [The most vivid and the best authenticated account of the +Duchess of Richmond's ball, which took place June 15, the eve of the +Battle of Quatrebras, in the duke's house in the Rue de la +Blanchisserie, is to be found in Lady de Ros's (Lady Georgiana Lennox) +<i>Personal Recollections of the Great Duke of Wellington</i>, which appeared +first in <i>Murray's Magazine</i>, January and February, 1889, and were +republished as <i>A Sketch of the Life of Georgiana, Lady de Ros</i>, by her +daughter, the Hon. Mrs. J. R. Swinton (John Murray, 1893). "My mother's +now famous ball," writes Lady de Ros (<i>A Sketch, etc.</i>, pp. 122, 123), +"took place in a large room on the ground-floor on the left of the +entrance, connected with the rest of the house by an ante-room. It had +been used by the coachbuilder, from whom the house was hired, to put +carriages in, but it was papered before we came there; and I recollect +the paper—a trellis pattern with roses.... When the duke arrived, +rather late, at the ball, I was dancing, but at once went up to him to +ask about the rumours. 'Yes, they are true; we are off to-morrow.' This +terrible news was circulated directly, and while some of the officers +hurried away, others remained at the ball, and actually had not time to +change their clothes, but fought in evening costume."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HF" id="Footnote_HF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HF"><span class="label">[hf]</span></a> <a id="Note_229" name="Note_229">{229}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The lamps shone on lovely dames and gallant men</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The lamps shone on ladies</i>——.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HG" id="Footnote_HG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HG"><span class="label">[hg]</span></a> <a id="Note_230" name="Note_230">{230}</a> <i>With a slow deep and dread-inspiring roar</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HH" id="Footnote_HH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HH"><span class="label">[hh]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Arm! arm, and out! it is the opening cannon's roar</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Arm—arm—and out—it is—the cannon's opening roar</i>.—[C.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_291" id="Footnote_291"></a><a href="#FNanchor_291"><span class="label">[291]</span></a> [Frederick William, Duke of Brunswick (1771-1815), +brother to Caroline, Princess of Wales, and nephew of George III., +fighting at Quatrebras in the front of the line, "fell almost in the +beginning of the battle." His father, Charles William Ferdinand, born +1735, the author of the fatal manifesto against the army of the French +Republic (July 15, 1792), was killed at Auerbach, October 14, 1806. In +the plan of the Duke of Richmond's house, which Lady de Ros published in +her <i>Recollections</i>, the actual spot is marked (the door of the +ante-room leading to the ball-room) where Lady Georgiana Lennox took +leave of the Duke of Brunswick. "It was a dreadful evening," she writes, +"taking leave of friends and acquaintances, many never to be seen again. +The Duke of Brunswick, as he took leave of me ... made me a civil speech +as to the Brunswickers being sure to distinguish themselves after 'the +honour' done them by my having accompanied the Duke of Wellington to +their review! I remember being quite provoked with poor Lord Hay, a +dashing, merry youth, full of military ardour, whom I knew very well, +for his delight at the idea of going into action ... and the first news +we had on the 16th was that he and the Duke of Brunswick were +killed."—<i>A Sketch, etc.</i>, pp. 132, 133.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HI" id="Footnote_HI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HI"><span class="label">[hi]</span></a> <a id="Note_231" name="Note_231">{231}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>His heart replying knew that sound too well</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the hoped vengeance for a Sire so dear</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As him who died on Jena—whom so well</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>His filial heart had mourned through many a year</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Roused him to valiant fury nought could quell</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HJ" id="Footnote_HJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HJ"><span class="label">[hj]</span></a> ——<i>tremors of distress</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HK" id="Footnote_HK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HK"><span class="label">[hk]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>which did press</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Like death upon young hearts</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HL" id="Footnote_HL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HL"><span class="label">[hl]</span></a> <i>Oh that on night so soft, such heavy morn should +rise</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HM" id="Footnote_HM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HM"><span class="label">[hm]</span></a> <a id="Note_232" name="Note_232">{232}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And wakening citizens with terror dumb</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Or whispering with pale lips—"The foe—They come, they come."</i>—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Or whispering with pale lips—"The Desolation's come."</i>—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HN" id="Footnote_HN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HN"><span class="label">[hn]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And Soignies waves above them</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And Ardennes</i>——.—[C.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_292" id="Footnote_292"></a><a href="#FNanchor_292"><span class="label">[292]</span></a> <a id="Note_233" name="Note_233">{233}</a> [<i>Vide ante, English Bards, etc.</i>, line 726, note: +<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 354.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HO" id="Footnote_HO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HO"><span class="label">[ho]</span></a> <i>But chiefly</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_293" id="Footnote_293"></a><a href="#FNanchor_293"><span class="label">[293]</span></a> <a id="Note_234" name="Note_234">{234}</a> [The Hon. Frederick Howard (1785-1815), third son +of Frederick, fifth Earl of Carlisle, fell late in the evening of the +18th of June, in a final charge of the left square of the French Guard, +in which Vivian brought up Howard's hussars against the French. Neither +French infantry nor cavalry gave way, and as the Hanoverians fired but +did not charge, a desperate combat ensued, in which Howard fell and many +of the 10th were killed.—<i>Waterloo: The Downfall of the First +Napoleon</i>, G. Hooper, 1861, p. 236. +</p><p> +Southey, who had visited the field of Waterloo, September, 1815, in his +<i>Poet's Pilgrimage</i> (iii. 49), dedicates a pedestrian stanza to his +memory— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here from the heaps who strewed the fatal plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was Howard's corse by faithful hands conveyed;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And not to be confounded with the slain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here in a grave apart with reverence laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Till hence his honoured relics o'er the seas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were borne to England, where they rest in peace."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_294" id="Footnote_294"></a><a href="#FNanchor_294"><span class="label">[294]</span></a> [Autumn had been beforehand with spring in the work of +renovation. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet Nature everywhere resumed her course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Low pansies to the sun their purple gave,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the soft poppy blossomed on the grave."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Poet's Pilgrimage</i>, iii. 36. +</p><p> +But the contrast between the continuous action of nature and the doom of +the unreturning dead, which does not greatly concern Southey, fills +Byron with a fierce desire to sum the price of victory. He flings in the +face of the vain-glorious mourners the bitter reality of their abiding +loss. It was this prophetic note, "the voice of one crying in the +wilderness," which sounded in and through Byron's rhetoric to the men of +his own generation.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HP" id="Footnote_HP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HP"><span class="label">[hp]</span></a> <a id="Note_235" name="Note_235">{235}</a> <i>And dead within behold the Spring return</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HQ" id="Footnote_HQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HQ"><span class="label">[hq]</span></a> <a id="Note_236" name="Note_236">{236}</a> <i>It still is day though clouds keep out the +Sun</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_295" id="Footnote_295"></a><a href="#FNanchor_295"><span class="label">[295]</span></a> [So, too, Coleridge. "Have you never seen a stick broken +in the middle, and yet cohering by the rind? The fibres, half of them +actually broken and the rest sprained, and, though tough, unsustaining? +Oh, many, many are the broken-hearted for those who know what the moral +and practical heart of the man is."—<i>Anima Poetæ</i>, 1895, p. 303.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_296" id="Footnote_296"></a><a href="#FNanchor_296"><span class="label">[296]</span></a> [According to Lady Blessington (<i>Conversations</i>, p. 176), +Byron maintained that the image of the broken mirror had in some +mysterious way been suggested by the following quatrain which Curran had +once repeated to him:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While memory, with more than Egypt's art<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Embalming all the sorrows of the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits at the altar which she raised to woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And finds the scene whence tears eternal flow."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +But, as M. Darmesteter points out, the true source of inspiration was a +passage in Burton's <i>Anatomy of Melancholy</i>—"the book," as Byron +maintained, "in my opinion most useful to a man who wishes to acquire +the reputation of being well-read with the least trouble" (<i>Life</i>, p. +48). Burton is discoursing on injury and long-suffering. "'Tis a Hydra's +head contention; the more they strive, the more they may; and as +Praxiteles did by his glass [see Cardan, <i>De Consolatione</i>, lib. iii.], +when he saw a scurvy face in it, break it in pieces; but for the one he +saw, he saw many more as bad in a moment; for one injury done, they +provoke another <i>cum fanore</i>, and twenty enemies for one."—<i>Anatomy of +Melancholy</i>, 1893, ii. 228. Compare, too, Carew's poem, <i>The Spark</i>, +lines 23-26— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And as a looking-glass, from the aspect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whilst it is whole doth but one face reflect,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But being crack'd or broken, there are shewn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Many half-faces, which at first were one.<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Anderson's <i>British Poets</i>, 1793, iii. 703.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HR" id="Footnote_HR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HR"><span class="label">[hr]</span></a> <a id="Note_237" name="Note_237">{237}</a> <i>But not his pleasure—such might be a task</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_297" id="Footnote_297"></a><a href="#FNanchor_297"><span class="label">[297]</span></a> [The "tale" or reckoning of the Psalmist, the span of +threescore years and ten, is contrasted with the tale or reckoning of +the age of those who fell at Waterloo. A "fleeting span" the Psalmist's; +but, reckoning by Waterloo, "more than enough." Waterloo grudges even +what the Psalmist allows.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HS" id="Footnote_HS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HS"><span class="label">[hs]</span></a> +<a id="Note_238" name="Note_238">{238}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Here where the sword united Europe drew</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>I had a kinsman warring on that day</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HT" id="Footnote_HT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HT"><span class="label">[ht]</span></a> <i>On little thoughts with equal firmness fixed.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HU" id="Footnote_HU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HU"><span class="label">[hu]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>For thou hast risen as fallen—even now thou seek'st</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>An hour</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_298" id="Footnote_298"></a><a href="#FNanchor_298"><span class="label">[298]</span></a> +[Byron seems to have been unable to make up his mind +about Napoleon. "It is impossible not to be dazzled and overwhelmed by +his character and career," he wrote to Moore (March 17, 1815), when his +Héros de Roman, as he called him, had broken open his "captive's cage" +and was making victorious progress to the capital. In the <i>Ode to +Napoleon Buonaparte</i>, which was written in April, 1814, after the first +abdication at Fontainebleau, the dominant note is astonishment mingled +with contempt. It is the lamentation over a fallen idol. In these +stanzas (xxxvi.-xlv.) he bears witness to the man's essential greatness, +and, with manifest reference to his own personality and career, +attributes his final downfall to the peculiar constitution of his genius +and temper. A year later (1817), in the Fourth Canto (stanzas +lxxxix.-xcii.), he passes a severe sentence. Napoleon's greatness is +swallowed up in weakness. He is a "kind of bastard Cæsar," +self-vanquished, the creature and victim of vanity. Finally, in The Age +of Bronze, sections iii.-vi., there is a reversion to the same theme, +the tragic irony of the rise and fall of the "king of kings, and yet of +slaves the slave." +</p><p> +As a schoolboy at Harrow, Byron fought for the preservation of +Napoleon's bust, and he was ever ready, in defiance of national feeling +and national prejudice, to celebrate him as "the glorious chief;" but +when it came to the point, he did not "want him here," victorious over +England, and he could not fail to see, with insight quickened by +self-knowledge, that greatness and genius possess no charm against +littleness and commonness, and that the "glory of the terrestrial" meets +with its own reward. The moral is obvious, and as old as history; but +herein lay the secret of Byron's potency, that he could remint and issue +in fresh splendour the familiar coinage of the world's wit. Moreover, he +lived in a great age, when great truths are born again, and appear in a +new light.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_299" id="Footnote_299"></a><a href="#FNanchor_299"><span class="label">[299]</span></a> [The stanza was written while Napoleon was still under +the guardianship of Admiral Sir George Cockburn, and before Sir Hudson +Lowe had landed at St. Helena; but complaints were made from the first +that imperial honours which were paid to him by his own suite were not +accorded by the British authorities.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_HV" id="Footnote_HV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HV"><span class="label">[hv]</span></a> +<a id="Note_239" name="Note_239">{239}</a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>and thy dark name</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Was ne'er more rife within men's mouths than now</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HW" id="Footnote_HW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HW"><span class="label">[hw]</span></a> <i>Who tossed thee to and fro till</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HX" id="Footnote_HX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HX"><span class="label">[hx]</span></a> <i>Which be it wisdom, weakness</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HY" id="Footnote_HY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HY"><span class="label">[hy]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>To watch thee shrinking calmly hadst thou smiled.</i>—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>With a sedate tho' not unfeeling eye.</i>—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_HZ" id="Footnote_HZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_HZ"><span class="label">[hz]</span></a> <a id="Note_241" name="Note_241">{241}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Greater than in thy fortunes; for in them</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Ambition lured thee on too far to show</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That true habitual scorn</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IA" id="Footnote_IA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IA"><span class="label">[ia]</span></a> <a id="Note_242" name="Note_242">{242}</a> <i>Feeds on itself and all things</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IB" id="Footnote_IB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IB"><span class="label">[ib]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Which stir too deeply</i>——[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Which stir the blood too boiling in its springs</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IC" id="Footnote_IC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IC"><span class="label">[ic]</span></a> <a id="Note_243" name="Note_243">{243}</a> ——<i>they rave overcast</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ID" id="Footnote_ID"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ID"><span class="label">[id]</span></a> ——<i>the hate of all below</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IE" id="Footnote_IE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IE"><span class="label">[ie]</span></a> ——<i>on his single head</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IF" id="Footnote_IF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IF"><span class="label">[if]</span></a> ——<i>the wise man's World will be</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IG" id="Footnote_IG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IG"><span class="label">[ig]</span></a> ——<i>for what teems like thee</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IH" id="Footnote_IH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IH"><span class="label">[ih]</span></a> <a id="Note_244" name="Note_244">{244}</a> <i>From gray and ghastly walls—where Ruin kindly +dwells</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_300" id="Footnote_300"></a><a href="#FNanchor_300"><span class="label">[300]</span></a> [For the archaic use of "battles" for "battalions," +compare <i>Macbeth</i>, act v. sc. 4, line 4; and Scott's <i>Lord of the +Isles</i>, vi. 10— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In battles four beneath their eye,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The forces of King Robert lie."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_II" id="Footnote_II"></a><a href="#FNanchor_II"><span class="label">[ii]</span></a> ——<i>are shredless tatters now</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IJ" id="Footnote_IJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IJ"><span class="label">[ij]</span></a> <a id="Note_245" name="Note_245">{245}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>What want these outlaws that a king should have</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But History's vain page</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IK" id="Footnote_IK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IK"><span class="label">[ik]</span></a> ——<i>their hearts were far more brave</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_301" id="Footnote_301"></a><a href="#FNanchor_301"><span class="label">[301]</span></a> [The most usual device is a bleeding heart.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IL" id="Footnote_IL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IL"><span class="label">[il]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Nor mar it frequent with an impious show</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of arms or angry conflict</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_302" id="Footnote_302"></a><a href="#FNanchor_302"><span class="label">[302]</span></a> <a id="Note_246" name="Note_246">{246}</a> [Compare Moore's lines, <i>The Meeting of the +Waters</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As that vale in whose bosom the wide waters meet."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IM" id="Footnote_IM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IM"><span class="label">[im]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Earth's dreams of Heaven—and such to seem to me</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But one thing wants thy stream</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_303" id="Footnote_303"></a><a href="#FNanchor_303"><span class="label">[303]</span></a> [Compare Lucan's <i>Pharsalia</i>, ix. 969, "Etiam periere +ruinæ;" and the lines from Tasso's <i>Gerusalemme Liberata</i>, xv. 20, +quoted in illustration of Canto II. stanza liii.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IN" id="Footnote_IN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IN"><span class="label">[in]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Glassed with its wonted light, the sunny ray;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But o'er the mind's marred thoughts—though but a dream</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IO" id="Footnote_IO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IO"><span class="label">[io]</span></a> <a id="Note_247" name="Note_247">{247}</a> <i>Repose itself on kindness</i>——[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_304" id="Footnote_304"></a><a href="#FNanchor_304"><span class="label">[304]</span></a> [Two lyrics, entitled <i>Stanzas to Augusta</i>, and the +<i>Epistle to Augusta</i>, which were included in <i>Domestic Pieces</i>, +published in 1816, are dedicated to the same subject—the devotion and +faithfulness of his sister.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IP" id="Footnote_IP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IP"><span class="label">[ip]</span></a> <a id="Note_248" name="Note_248">{248}</a> <i>But there was one</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IQ" id="Footnote_IQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IQ"><span class="label">[iq]</span></a> <i>Yet was it pure</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_305" id="Footnote_305"></a><a href="#FNanchor_305"><span class="label">[305]</span></a> [It has been supposed that there is a reference in this +passage, and again in <i>Stanzas to Augusta</i> (dated July 24, 1816), to +"the only important calumny"—to quote Shelley's letter of September 29, +1816—"that was even ever advanced" against Byron. "The poems to +Augusta," remarks Elze (<i>Life of Lord Byron</i>, p. 174), "prove, further, +that she too was cognizant of the calumnious accusations; for under no +other supposition is it possible to understand their allusions." But the +mere fact that Mrs. Leigh remained on terms of intimacy and affection +with her brother, when he was under the ban of society, would expose her +to slander and injurious comment, "peril dreaded most in female eyes;" +whereas to other calumnies, if such there were, there could be no other +reference but silence, or an ecstasy of wrath and indignation.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IR" id="Footnote_IR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IR"><span class="label">[ir]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Thus to that heart did his its thoughts in absence pour</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>its absent feelings pour</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_306" id="Footnote_306"></a><a href="#FNanchor_306"><span class="label">[306]</span></a> <a id="Note_249" name="Note_249">{249}</a> [Written on the Rhine bank, May 11, 1816.—MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IS" id="Footnote_IS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IS"><span class="label">[is]</span></a> <a id="Note_251" name="Note_251">{251}</a> <i>A sigh for Marceau</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_307" id="Footnote_307"></a><a href="#FNanchor_307"><span class="label">[307]</span></a> +[Marceau (<i>vide post</i>, <a href="#en_3_11">note 2, p. 296</a>) took part in +crushing the Vendean insurrection. If, as General Hoche asserts in his +memoirs, six hundred thousand fell in Vendée, Freedom's charter was not +easily overstepped.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_308" id="Footnote_308"></a><a href="#FNanchor_308"><span class="label">[308]</span></a> <a id="Note_252" name="Note_252">{252}</a> [Compare Gray's lines in <i>The Fatal Sisters</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Iron-sleet of arrowy shower<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hurtles in the darken'd air."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IT" id="Footnote_IT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IT"><span class="label">[it]</span></a> <i>And could the sleepless vultures</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IU" id="Footnote_IU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IU"><span class="label">[iu]</span></a> <i>Rustic not rude, sublime yet not austere</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_309" id="Footnote_309"></a><a href="#FNanchor_309"><span class="label">[309]</span></a> [Lines 8 and 9 may be cited as a crying instance of +Byron's faulty technique. The collocation of "awful" with "austere," +followed by "autumn" in the next line, recalls the afflictive assonance +of "high Hymettus," which occurs in the beautiful passage which he stole +from <i>The Curse of Minerva</i> and prefixed to the third canto of <i>The +Corsair</i>. The sense of the passage is that, as in autumn, the golden +mean between summer and winter, the year is at its full, so in the +varied scenery of the Rhine there is a harmony of opposites, a +consummation of beauty.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IV" id="Footnote_IV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IV"><span class="label">[iv]</span></a> <a id="Note_253" name="Note_253">{253}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>More mighty scenes may rise—more glaring shine</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But none unite in one enchanted gaze</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The fertile—fair—and soft—the glories of old days</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_310" id="Footnote_310"></a><a href="#FNanchor_310"><span class="label">[310]</span></a> [The "negligently grand" may, perhaps, refer to the +glories of old days, now in a state of neglect, not to the unstudied +grandeur of the scene taken as a whole; but the phrase is loosely thrown +out in order to convey a general impression, "an attaching maze," an +engaging attractive combination of images, and must not be interrogated +too closely.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IW" id="Footnote_IW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IW"><span class="label">[iw]</span></a> +<a id="Note_254" name="Note_254">{254}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Around in chrystal grandeur to where falls</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The avalanche—the thunder-clouds of snow</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_311" id="Footnote_311"></a><a href="#FNanchor_311"><span class="label">[311]</span></a> +[Compare the opening lines of Coleridge's <i>Hymn before +Sunrise in the Valley of Chamouni</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In his steep course? So long he seems to pause<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The "thunderbolt" (line 6) recurs in <i>Manfred</i>, act i. sc. 1— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Around his waist are forests braced,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Avalanche in his hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But ere its fall, that thundering ball<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Must pause for my command."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"> +<p><a name="Footnote_312" id="Footnote_312"></a><a href="#FNanchor_312"><span class="label">[312]</span></a> +<a id="Note_255" name="Note_255">{255}</a> [The inscription on the ossuary of the Burgundian +troops which fell in the battle of Morat, June 14, 1476, suggested this +variant of <i>Si monumentum quæris</i>— +</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p class="center">"<span class="smcap">Deo Optimo Maximo</span>.</p> +<p>Inclytissimi et fortissimi Burgundiæ ducis exercitus, Moratum +obsidens, ab Helvetiis cæsus, hoc sui monumentum reliquit."]</p> +</div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IX" id="Footnote_IX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IX"><span class="label">[ix]</span></a> +<i>Unsepulchred they roam, and shriek</i>——[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_313" id="Footnote_313"></a><a href="#FNanchor_313"><span class="label">[313]</span></a> +[The souls of the suitors when Hermes "roused and +shepherded them followed gibbering" +(<span title="tri/zousai">τρίζουσαι</span>).—<i>Od.</i>, +xxiv. 5. Once, too, when the observance of the +<i>dies Parentales</i> was neglected, Roman ghosts took to wandering and +shrieking. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Perque vias Urbis, Latiosque ululasse per agros<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Deformes animas, vulgus inane ferunt."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Ovid, <i>Fasti</i>, ii. lines 553, 554. +</p><p> +The Homeric ghosts gibbered because they were ghosts; the Burgundian +ghosts because they were confined to the Stygian coast, and could not +cross the stream. For once the "classical allusions" are forced and +inappropriate.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_314" id="Footnote_314"></a><a href="#FNanchor_314"><span class="label">[314]</span></a> [Byron's point is that at Morat 15,000 men were slain in +a righteous cause—the defence of a republic against an invading tyrant; +whereas the lives of those that fell at Cannæ and at Waterloo were +sacrificed to the ambition of rival powers fighting for the mastery.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IY" id="Footnote_IY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IY"><span class="label">[iy]</span></a> +<a id="Note_256" name="Note_256">{256}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>their proud land</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Groan'd not beneath</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_IZ" id="Footnote_IZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_IZ"><span class="label">[iz]</span></a> <a id="Note_257" name="Note_257">{257}</a> <i>And thus she died</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JA" id="Footnote_JA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JA"><span class="label">[ja]</span></a> <i>And they lie simply</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JB" id="Footnote_JB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JB"><span class="label">[jb]</span></a> <i>The dear depths yield</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_315" id="Footnote_315"></a><a href="#FNanchor_315"><span class="label">[315]</span></a> ["Haunted and hunted by the British tourist and +gossip-monger, Byron took refuge, on June 10, at the Villa Diodati; but +still the pursuers strove to win some wretched consolation by waylaying +him in his evening drives, or directing the telescope upon his balcony, +which overlooked the lake, or upon the hillside, with its vineyards, +where he lurked obscure" (Dowden's <i>Life of Shelley</i>, 1896, p. 309). It +is possible, too, that now and again even Shelley's companionship was +felt to be a strain upon nerves and temper. The escape from memory and +remorse, which could not be always attained in the society of a chosen +few, might, he hoped, be found in solitude, face to face with nature. +But it was not to be. Even nature was powerless to "minister to a mind +diseased." At the conclusion of his second tour (September 29, 1816), he +is constrained to admit that "neither the music of the shepherd, the +crashing of the avalanche, nor the torrent, the mountain, the glacier, +the forest, nor the cloud, have for one moment lightened the weight upon +my heart, nor enabled me to lose my own wretched identity in the +majesty, and the power, and the glory, around, above, and beneath me" +(<i>Life</i>, p. 315). Perhaps Wordsworth had this confession in his mind +when, in 1834, he composed the lines, "Not in the Lucid Intervals of +Life," of which the following were, he notes, "written with Lord Byron's +character as a past before me, and that of others, his contemporaries, +who wrote under like influences:"— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i25">"Nor do words,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which practised talent readily affords,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Prove that his hand has touched responsive chords<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor has his gentle beauty power to move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With genuine rapture and with fervent love<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The soul of Genius, if he dare to take<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Life's rule from passion craved for passion's sake;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Untaught that meekness is the cherished bent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of all the truly great and all the innocent.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But who is innocent? By grace divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not otherwise, O Nature! are we thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through good and evil there, in just degree<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of rational and manly sympathy."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>The Works of W. Wordsworth</i>, 1889, p. 729. +</p><p> +Wordsworth seems to have resented Byron's tardy conversion to "natural +piety," regarding it, no doubt, as a fruitless and graceless endeavour +without the cross to wear the crown. But if Nature reserves her balms +for "the innocent," her quality of inspiration is not "strained." Byron, +too, was nature's priest— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And by that vision splendid<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was on his way attended."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JC" id="Footnote_JC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JC"><span class="label">[jc]</span></a> <a id="Note_259" name="Note_259">{259}</a> <i>In its own deepness</i>——[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_316" id="Footnote_316"></a><a href="#FNanchor_316"><span class="label">[316]</span></a> [The metaphor is derived from a hot spring which appears +to boil over at the moment of its coming to the surface. As the +particles of water, when they emerge into the light, break and bubble +into a seething mass; so, too, does passion chase and beget passion in +the "hot throng" of general interests and individual desires.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JD" id="Footnote_JD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JD"><span class="label">[jd]</span></a> <i>One of a worthless world—to strive where none are +strong.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_317" id="Footnote_317"></a><a href="#FNanchor_317"><span class="label">[317]</span></a> [The thought which underlies the whole of this passage is +that man is the creature and thrall of fate. In society, in the world, +he is exposed to the incidence of passion, which he can neither resist +nor yield to without torture. He is overcome by the world, and, as a +last resource, he turns to nature and solitude. He lifts up his eyes to +the hills, unexpectant of Divine aid, but in the hope that, by claiming +kinship with Nature, and becoming "a portion of that around" him, he may +forego humanity, with its burden of penitence, and elude the curse. +There is a further reference to this despairing recourse to Nature in +<i>The Dream</i>, viii. 10, <i>seq</i>.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i33">" ... he lived<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Through that which had been death to many men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And made him friends of mountains: with the stars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the quick Spirit of the Universe<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He held his dialogues! and they did teach<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To him the magic of their mysteries."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JE" id="Footnote_JE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JE"><span class="label">[je]</span></a> <a id="Note_260" name="Note_260">{260}</a> ——<i>through Eternity.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_318" id="Footnote_318"></a><a href="#FNanchor_318"><span class="label">[318]</span></a> [Shelley seems to have taken Byron at his word, and in +the <i>Adonais</i> (xxx. 3, <i>seq.</i>) introduces him in the disguise of— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Over his living head like Heaven is bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An early but enduring monument."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Notwithstanding the splendour of Shelley's verse, it is difficult to +suppress a smile. For better or for worse, the sense of the ludicrous +has asserted itself, and "brother" cannot take "brother" quite so +seriously as in "the brave days of old." But to each age its own humour. +Not only did Shelley and Byron worship at the shrine of Rousseau, but +they took delight in reverently tracing the footsteps of St. Preux and +Julie.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_319" id="Footnote_319"></a><a href="#FNanchor_319"><span class="label">[319]</span></a> <a id="Note_261" name="Note_261">{261}</a> [The name "Tigris" is derived from the Persian +<i>tîr</i> (Sanscrit <i>Tigra</i>), "an arrow." If Byron ever consulted Hofmann's +<i>Lexicon Universale</i>, he would have read, "<i>Tigris</i>, a velocitate dictus +quasi <i>sagitta</i>;" but most probably he neither had nor sought an +authority for his natural and beautiful simile.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JF" id="Footnote_JF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JF"><span class="label">[jf]</span></a> <i>To its young cries and kisses all awake.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_320" id="Footnote_320"></a><a href="#FNanchor_320"><span class="label">[320]</span></a> [Compare <i>Tintern Abbey</i>. In this line, both language and +sentiment are undoubtedly Wordsworth's— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i21">"The sounding cataract<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their colours, and their forms, were then to me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An appetite, a <i>feeling</i>, and a love,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That had no need of a remoter charm."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +But here the resemblance ends. With Wordsworth the mood passed, and he +learned +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To look on Nature, not as in the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The still, sad music of humanity,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not harsh nor grating, but of amplest power<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To chasten and subdue."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +He would not question Nature in search of new and untainted pleasure, +but rests in her as inclusive of humanity. The secret of Wordsworth is +acquiescence; "the still, sad music of humanity" is the key-note of his +ethic. Byron, on the other hand, is in revolt. He has the ardour of a +pervert, the rancorous scorn of a deserter. The "hum of human cities" is +a "torture." He is "a link reluctant in a fleshly chain." To him Nature +and Humanity are antagonists, and he cleaves to the one, yea, he would +take her by violence, to mark his alienation and severance from the +other.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JG" id="Footnote_JG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JG"><span class="label">[jg]</span></a> <i>Of peopled cities</i>——[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JH" id="Footnote_JH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JH"><span class="label">[jh]</span></a> <a id="Note_262" name="Note_262">{262}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>but to be</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A link reluctant in a living chain</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Classing with creatures</i>——[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JI" id="Footnote_JI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JI"><span class="label">[ji]</span></a> <i>And with the air</i>——[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JJ" id="Footnote_JJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JJ"><span class="label">[jj]</span></a> <i>To sink and suffer</i>——[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JK" id="Footnote_JK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JK"><span class="label">[jk]</span></a> ——<i>which partly round us cling.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_321" id="Footnote_321"></a><a href="#FNanchor_321"><span class="label">[321]</span></a> [Compare Horace, <i>Odes</i>, iii. 2. 23, 24— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">"Et udam<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spernit humum fugiente pennâ."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JL" id="Footnote_JL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JL"><span class="label">[jl]</span></a> <a id="Note_263" name="Note_263">{263}</a> ——<i>in this degrading form.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JM" id="Footnote_JM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JM"><span class="label">[jm]</span></a> ——<i>the Spirit in each spot.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_322" id="Footnote_322"></a><a href="#FNanchor_322"><span class="label">[322]</span></a>[The "bodiless thought" is the object, not the subject, of +his celestial vision. "Even now," as through a glass darkly, and with +eyes +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Whose half-beholdings through unsteady tears<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Gave shape, hue, distance to the inward dream,"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +his soul "had sight" of the spirit, the informing idea, the essence of +each passing scene; but, hereafter, his bodiless spirit would, as it +were, encounter the place-spirits face to face. It is to be noted that +warmth of feeling, not clearness or fulness of perception, attends this +spiritual recognition.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JN" id="Footnote_JN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JN"><span class="label">[jn]</span></a> [<i>Is not</i>] <i>the universe a breathing part?</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JO" id="Footnote_JO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JO"><span class="label">[jo]</span></a> <a id="Note_264" name="Note_264">{264}</a> <i>And gaze upon the ground with sordid thoughts and +slow.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_323" id="Footnote_323"></a><a href="#FNanchor_323"><span class="label">[323]</span></a> +[Compare Coleridge's <i>Dejection. An Ode</i>, iv. 4-9— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And would we aught behold, of higher worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than that inanimate cold world allowed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the poor, loveless, ever-anxious crowd;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Enveloping the earth."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JP" id="Footnote_JP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JP"><span class="label">[jp]</span></a> <i>But this is not a time—I must return.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JQ" id="Footnote_JQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JQ"><span class="label">[jq]</span></a> <i>Here the reflecting Sophist</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JR" id="Footnote_JR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JR"><span class="label">[jr]</span></a> <a id="Note_265" name="Note_265">{265}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>O'er sinful deeds and thoughts the heavenly hue</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With words like sunbeams dazzling as they passed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The eye that o'er them shed deep tears which flowed too fast</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>O'er deeds and thoughts of error the bright hue</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JS" id="Footnote_JS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JS"><span class="label">[js]</span></a> <i>Like him enamoured were to die the same</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JT" id="Footnote_JT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JT"><span class="label">[jt]</span></a> <a id="Note_266" name="Note_266">{266}</a> ——<i>self-consuming heat</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_324" id="Footnote_324"></a><a href="#FNanchor_324"><span class="label">[324]</span></a> [As, for instance, with Madame de Warens, in 1738; with +Madame d'Epinay; with Diderot and Grimm, in 1757; with Voltaire; with +David Hume, in 1766 (see "Rousseau in England," <i>Q. R.</i>, No. 376, +October, 1898); with every one to whom he was attached or with whom he +had dealings, except his illiterate mistress, Theresa le Vasseur. (See +<i>Rousseau</i>, by John Morley, 2 vols., 1888, <i>passim</i>.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JU" id="Footnote_JU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JU"><span class="label">[ju]</span></a> <i>For its own cruel workings the most kind</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JV" id="Footnote_JV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JV"><span class="label">[jv]</span></a> <i>Since cause might be yet leave no trace behind</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_325" id="Footnote_325"></a><a href="#FNanchor_325"><span class="label">[325]</span></a> ["He was possessed, as holier natures than his have been, +by an enthusiastic vision, an intoxicated confidence, a mixture of +sacred rage and prodigious love, an insensate but absolutely +disinterested revolt against the stone and iron of a reality which he +was bent on melting in a heavenly blaze of splendid aspiration and +irresistibly persuasive expression."—<i>Rousseau</i>, by John Morley, 1886, +i. 137.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_326" id="Footnote_326"></a><a href="#FNanchor_326"><span class="label">[326]</span></a> <a id="Note_267" name="Note_267">{267}</a> [Rousseau published his <i>Discourses</i> on the +influence of the sciences, on manners, and on inequality (<i>Sur l'Origine +... de l'Inégalité parmi les Hommes</i>) in 1750 and 1753; <i>Émile, ou, de +l'Education</i>, and <i>Du Contrat Social</i> in 1762.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_327" id="Footnote_327"></a><a href="#FNanchor_327"><span class="label">[327]</span></a> ["What Rousseau's Discourse [<i>Sur l'Origine ... de +l'Inégalité</i>, etc.] meant ... is not that all men are born equal. He +never says this.... His position is that the artificial differences, +springing from the conditions of the social union, do not coincide with +the differences in capacity springing from original constitution; that +the tendency of the social union as now organized is to deepen the +artificial inequalities, and make the gulf between those endowed with +privileges and wealth, and those not so endowed, ever wider and +wider.... It was ... [the influence of Rousseau ... and those whom he +inspired] which, though it certainly did not produce, yet did as +certainly give a deep and remarkable bias, first to the American +Revolution, and a dozen years afterwards to the French +Revolution."—<i>Rousseau</i>, 1888, i. 181, 182.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JW" id="Footnote_JW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JW"><span class="label">[jw]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>thoughts which grew</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Born with the birth of Time</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JX" id="Footnote_JX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JX"><span class="label">[jx]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>even let me view</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But good alas</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JY" id="Footnote_JY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JY"><span class="label">[jy]</span></a> +<a id="Note_268" name="Note_268">{268}</a> ——<i>in both we shall lie slower</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_328" id="Footnote_328"></a><a href="#FNanchor_328"><span class="label">[328]</span></a> +[The substitution of "one" for "both" (see <a href="#Footnote_JY"><i>var.</i> i.</a>) +affords conclusive proof that the meaning is that the next revolution +would do its work more thoroughly and not leave things as it found +them.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_329" id="Footnote_329"></a><a href="#FNanchor_329"><span class="label">[329]</span></a> <a id="Note_269" name="Note_269">{269}</a> [After sunset the Jura range, which lies to the +west of the Lake, would appear "darkened" in contrast to the afterglow +in the western sky.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_JZ" id="Footnote_JZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_JZ"><span class="label">[jz]</span></a> +<a id="Note_270" name="Note_270">{270}</a> <i>He is an endless reveller</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KA" id="Footnote_KA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KA"><span class="label">[ka]</span></a> +<i>Him merry with light talking with his mate</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_330" id="Footnote_330"></a><a href="#FNanchor_330"><span class="label">[330]</span></a> +[Compare Anacreon +(<span title="Ei)s te/ttiga">Εἰς +τέττιγα</span>), +<i>Carm.</i> xliii. +line 15—<span title="To\ de\ gê~ras ou)\ se tei/rei.">Τὸ δὲ +γῆρας οὒ σε +τείρει</span>.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KB" id="Footnote_KB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KB"><span class="label">[kb]</span></a> +<i>Deep into Nature's breast the existence which they lose</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_331" id="Footnote_331"></a><a href="#FNanchor_331"><span class="label">[331]</span></a> +[For the association of "Fortune" and "Fame" with a star, compare <a href="#Page_222">stanza xi.</a> lines 5, 6— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Who can contemplate Fame through clouds unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The <i>star</i> which rises o'er her steep," etc.?<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +And the allusion to Napoleon's "star," <a href="#Page_240">stanza xxxviii</a>. line 9— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Nor learn that tempted Fate will leave the loftiest <i>Star</i>."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Compare, too, the opening lines of the <i>Stanzas to Augusta</i> (July 24, +1816)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Though the day of my destiny's over,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the <i>star</i> of my fate has declined."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +"Power" is symbolized as a star in <i>Numb.</i> xxiv. 17, "There shall come a +<i>star</i> out of Jacob, and a Sceptre shall rise out of Israel;" and in the +divine proclamation, "I am the root and the offspring of David, and the +bright and morning <i>star</i>" (<i>Rev.</i> xxii. 16). +</p><p> +The inclusion of "life" among star similes may have been suggested by +the astrological terms, "house of life" and "lord of the ascendant." +Wordsworth, in his Ode (<i>Intimations of Immortality, etc.</i>) speaks of +the soul as "our life's <i>star</i>." Mr. Tozer, who supplies most of these +"comparisons," adds a line from Shelley's <i>Adonais</i>, 55. 8 (Pisa, +1821)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The soul of Adonais, like a <i>star</i>."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_332" id="Footnote_332"></a><a href="#FNanchor_332"><span class="label">[332]</span></a> <a id="Note_271" name="Note_271">{271}</a> [Compare Wordsworth's sonnet, "It is a Beauteous," +etc.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The holy time is quiet as a nun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Breathless with adoration."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_333" id="Footnote_333"></a><a href="#FNanchor_333"><span class="label">[333]</span></a> [Here, too, the note is Wordsworthian, though Byron +represents as inherent in Nature, that "sense of something far more +deeply interfused," which Wordsworth (in his <i>Lines</i> on Tintern Abbey) +assigns to his own consciousness.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KC" id="Footnote_KC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KC"><span class="label">[kc]</span></a> <a id="Note_272" name="Note_272">{272}</a> <i>It is a voiceless feeling chiefly felt</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KD" id="Footnote_KD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KD"><span class="label">[kd]</span></a> <i>Of a most inward music</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_334" id="Footnote_334"></a><a href="#FNanchor_334"><span class="label">[334]</span></a> [As the cestus of Venus endowed the wearer with magical +attraction, so the immanence of the Infinite and the Eternal in "all +that formal is and fugitive," binds it with beauty and produces a +supernatural charm which even Death cannot resist.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_335" id="Footnote_335"></a><a href="#FNanchor_335"><span class="label">[335]</span></a> +[Compare Herodotus, i. 131, <span title="Oi(de\ nomi/zousi Dii) me\n">Οἱ δὲ +νομίζουσι Διἰ +μὲν</span>, +<span title="e)pi\ ta\ y(psêlo/tata tô~n ou)re/ôn a)nabai/nontes">ἐπὶ +τὰ ὑψηλότατα τῶν +οὐρέων ἀναβαίνοντες</span> +<span title="thysi/as e(/rdein">θυσίας ἕρδειν</span> +<span title="to\n ky/klon pa/nta tou~ +y)rano Di/a kale/ontes">τὸν κύκλον πάντα +τοῦ ὐρανο Δία +καλέοντες</span>. +Perhaps, however, "early Persian" was suggested +by a passage in "that drowsy, frowsy poem, <i>The Excursion</i>"— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"The Persian—zealous to reject<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Altar and image and the inclusive walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And roofs and temples built by human hands—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To loftiest heights ascending, from their tops<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With myrtle-wreathed tiara on his brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Presented sacrifice to moon and stars."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<i>The Excursion</i>, iv. (<i>The Works of Wordsworth</i>, 1889, p. 461).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_336" id="Footnote_336"></a><a href="#FNanchor_336"><span class="label">[336]</span></a> <a id="Note_273" name="Note_273">{273}</a> [Compare the well-known song which forms the +prelude of the <i>Hebrew Melodies</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She walks in beauty, like the night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cloudless climes and starry skies;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And all that's best of dark and bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meet in her aspect and her eyes."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KE" id="Footnote_KE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KE"><span class="label">[ke]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>Oh glorious Night</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That art not sent</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KF" id="Footnote_KF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KF"><span class="label">[kf]</span></a> <a id="Note_274" name="Note_274">{274}</a> <i>A portion of the Storm—a part of thee</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KG" id="Footnote_KG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KG"><span class="label">[kg]</span></a> ——<i>a fiery sea</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KH" id="Footnote_KH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KH"><span class="label">[kh]</span></a> <i>As they had found an heir and feasted o'er his +birth</i>.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KI" id="Footnote_KI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KI"><span class="label">[ki]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Hills which look like brethren with twin heights</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of a like aspect</i>——.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_337" id="Footnote_337"></a><a href="#FNanchor_337"><span class="label">[337]</span></a> [There can be no doubt that Byron borrowed this metaphor +from the famous passage in Coleridge's <i>Christabel</i> (ii. 408-426), which +he afterwards prefixed as a motto to <i>Fare Thee Well</i>. +</p><p> +The latter half of the quotation runs thus— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But never either found another<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To free the hollow heart from paining—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">They stood aloof, the scars remaining,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A dreary sea now flows between,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall wholly do away, I ween,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The marks of that which once had been."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KJ" id="Footnote_KJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KJ"><span class="label">[kj]</span></a> <a id="Note_275" name="Note_275">{275}</a> <i>Of separation drear</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_338" id="Footnote_338"></a><a href="#FNanchor_338"><span class="label">[338]</span></a> [There are numerous instances of the use of "knoll" as an +alternative form of the verb "to knell;" but Byron seems, in this +passage, to be the authority for "knoll" as a substantive.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_339" id="Footnote_339"></a><a href="#FNanchor_339"><span class="label">[339]</span></a> [For Rousseau's description of Vevey, see <i>Julie; ou, La +Nouvelle Héloise</i>, Partie I. Lettre xxiii., <i>Oevres de J. J. Rousseau</i>, +1836, ii. 36: "Tantôt d'immenses rochers pendoient en ruines au-dessus +de ma tête. Tantôt de hautes et bruyantes cascades m'inondoient de leur +epais brouillard: tantôt un torrent éternel ouvroit à mes côtés un abîme +dont les yeux n'osoient sonder la profondeur. Quelquefois je me perdois +dans l'obscurité d'un bois touffu. Quelquefois, en sortant d'un gouffre, +une agréable prairie, réjouissoit tout-à-coup mes regards. Un mélange +étonnant de la nature sauvage et de la nature cultivée, montroit partout +la main des hommes, où l'on eût cru qu'ils n'avoient jamais pénétré: a +côté d'une caverne on trouvoit des maisons; on voyoit des pampres secs +où l'on n'eût cherché que des ronces, des vignes dans des terres +éboullées, d'excellens fruits sur des rochers, et des champs dans des +précipices." See, too, Lettre xxxviii. p. 56; Partie IV. Lettre xi. p. +238 (the description of Julie's Elysium); and Partie IV. Lettre xvii. p. +260 (the excursion to Meillerie). +</p><p> +Byron infuses into Rousseau's accurate and charming compositions of +scenic effects, if not the "glory," yet "the freshness of a dream." He +belonged to the new age, with its new message from nature to man, and, +in spite of theories and prejudices, listened and was convinced. He +extols Rousseau's recognition of nature, lifting it to the height of his +own argument; but, consciously or unconsciously, he desires to find, and +finds, in nature a spring of imagination undreamt of by the Apostle of +Sentiment. There is a whole world of difference between Rousseau's +persuasive and delicate patronage of Nature, and Byron's passionate, +though somewhat belated, surrender to her inevitable claim. With +Rousseau, Nature is a means to an end, a conduct of refined and +heightened fancy; whereas, to Byron, "her reward was with her," a +draught of healing and refreshment.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KK" id="Footnote_KK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KK"><span class="label">[kk]</span></a> <a id="Note_277" name="Note_277">{277}</a> <i>The trees have grown from Love</i>——.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KL" id="Footnote_KL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KL"><span class="label">[kl]</span></a> <a id="Note_278" name="Note_278">{278}</a> <i>By rays which twine there</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KM" id="Footnote_KM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KM"><span class="label">[km]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Clarens—sweet Clarens—thou art Love's abode</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Undying Love's—who here hath made a throne</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KN" id="Footnote_KN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KN"><span class="label">[kn]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And girded it with Spirit which is shown</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>From the steep summit to the rushing Rhone</i>.—[MS. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KO" id="Footnote_KO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KO"><span class="label">[ko]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i21">——<i>whose searching power</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Surpasses the strong storm in its most desolate hour</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_340" id="Footnote_340"></a><a href="#FNanchor_340"><span class="label">[340]</span></a> [Compare <i>La Nouvelle Héloïse</i>, Partie IV. Lettre xvii, +<i>Oeuvres, etc.</i>, ii. 262: "Un torrent, formé par la fonte des neiges, +rouloit à vingt pas de nous line eau bourbeuse, et charrioit avec bruit +du limon, du sable et des pierres.... Des forêts de noirs sapins nous +ombrageoient tristement à droite. Un grand bois de chênes étoit à gauche +au-delà du torrent."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KP" id="Footnote_KP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KP"><span class="label">[kp]</span></a> +<a id="Note_279" name="Note_279">{279}</a> <i>But branches young as Heaven</i>——[MS. erased,]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KQ" id="Footnote_KQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KQ"><span class="label">[kq]</span></a> ——<i>with sweeter voice than words</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_341" id="Footnote_341"></a><a href="#FNanchor_341"><span class="label">[341]</span></a> [Compare the <i>Pervigilium Veneris</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Cras amet qui nunquam amavit,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quique amavit eras amet."<br /></span> +<span class="i0">("Let those love now, who never loved before;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let those who always loved, now love the more.")<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Parnell's <i>Vigil of Venus: British Poets</i>, 1794, vii. 7.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KR" id="Footnote_KR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KR"><span class="label">[kr]</span></a> +<a id="Note_280" name="Note_280">{280}</a> ——<i>driven him to repose.</i>—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_342" id="Footnote_342"></a><a href="#FNanchor_342"><span class="label">[342]</span></a> [Compare <i>Confessions of J. J. Rousseau</i>, lib. iv., +<i>passim.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_343" id="Footnote_343"></a><a href="#FNanchor_343"><span class="label">[343]</span></a> <a id="Note_281" name="Note_281">{281}</a> [In his appreciation of Voltaire, Byron, no doubt, +had in mind certain strictures of the lake school—"a school, as it is +called, I presume, from their education being still incomplete." +Coleridge, in <i>The Friend</i> (1850, i. 168), contrasting Voltaire with +Erasmus, affirms that "the knowledge of the one was solid through its +whole extent, and that of the other extensive at a chief rate in its +superficiality," and characterizes "the wit of the Frenchman" as being +"without imagery, without character, and without that pathos which gives +the magic charm to genuine humour;" and Wordsworth, in the second book +of <i>The Excursion</i> (<i>Works of Wordsworth</i>, 1889, p. 434), "unalarmed" by +any consideration of wit or humour, writes down Voltaire's <i>Optimist</i> +(<i>Candide, ou L'Optimisme</i>), which was accidentally discovered by the +"Wanderer" in the "Solitary's" pent-house, "swoln with scorching damp," +as "the dull product of a scoffer's pen." Byron reverts to these +contumelies in a note to the Fifth Canto of <i>Don Juan</i> (see <i>Life</i>, +Appendix, p. 809), and lashes "the school" <i>secundum artem.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KS" id="Footnote_KS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KS"><span class="label">[ks]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Coping with all and leaving all behind</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Within himself existed all mankind</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And laughing at their faults betrayed his own</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>His own was ridicule which as the Wind</i>.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_344" id="Footnote_344"></a><a href="#FNanchor_344"><span class="label">[344]</span></a> <a id="Note_282" name="Note_282">{282}</a> [In his youth Voltaire was imprisoned for a year +(1717-18) in the Bastille, by the regent Duke of Orleans, on account of +certain unacknowledged lampoons (<i>Regnante Puero, etc.</i>); but throughout +his long life, so far from "shaking thrones," he showed himself eager to +accept the patronage and friendship of the greatest monarchs of the +age—of Louis XV., of George II. and his queen, Caroline of Anspach, of +Frederick II., and of Catharine of Russia. Even the Pope Benedict XIV. +accepted the dedication of <i>Mahomet</i> (1745), and bestowed an apostolical +benediction on "his dear son." On the other hand, his abhorrence of war, +his protection of the oppressed, and, above all, the questioning spirit +of his historical and philosophical writings (e.g. <i>Les Lettres sur les +Anglais</i>, 1733; <i>Annales de l'Empire depuis Charlemagne</i>, 1753, etc.) +were felt to be subversive of civil as well as ecclesiastical tyranny, +and, no doubt, helped to precipitate the Revolution. +</p> +<p> +The first half of the line may be illustrated by his quarrel with +Maupertuis, the President of the Berlin Academy, which resulted in the +production of the famous <i>Diatribe of Doctor Akakia, Physician to the +Pope</i> (1752), by a malicious attack on Maupertuis's successor, Le Franc +de Pompignan, and by his caricature of the critic Elie Catharine Fréron, +as <i>Frélon</i> ("Wasp"), in <i>L'Ecossaise</i>, which was played at Paris in +1760.—<i>Life of Voltaire</i>, by F. Espinasse, 1892, pp. 94, 114, 144.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KT" id="Footnote_KT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KT"><span class="label">[kt]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>concentering thought</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And gathering wisdom</i>——.—[MS.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KU" id="Footnote_KU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KU"><span class="label">[ku]</span></a> <a id="Note_283" name="Note_283">{283}</a> <i>Which stung his swarming foes with rage and +fear</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_345" id="Footnote_345"></a><a href="#FNanchor_345"><span class="label">[345]</span></a> [The first three volumes of Gibbon's <i>Decline and Fall of +the Roman Empire</i>, contrary to the author's expectation, did not escape +criticism and remonstrance. The Rev. David Chetsum (in 1772 and +(enlarged) 1778) published <i>An Examination of, etc.</i>, and Henry Edward +Davis, in 1778, <i>Remarks on</i> the memorable Fifteenth and Sixteenth +Chapters. Gibbon replied by a <i>Vindication</i>, issued in 1779. Another +adversary was Archdeacon George Travis, who, in his <i>Letter</i>, defended +the authenticity of the text on "Three Heavenly Witnesses" (1 <i>John</i> v. +7), which Gibbon was at pains to deny (ch. xxxvii. note 120). Among +other critics and assailants were Joseph Milner, Joseph Priestley, and +Richard Watson afterwards Bishop of Llandaff. (For Porson's estimate of +Gibbon, see preface to <i>Letters to Mr. Archdeacon Travis, etc.</i>, +1790.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KV" id="Footnote_KV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KV"><span class="label">[kv]</span></a> <i>In sleep upon one pillow</i>——.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_346" id="Footnote_346"></a><a href="#FNanchor_346"><span class="label">[346]</span></a> [There is no reason to suppose that this is to be taken +ironically. He is not certain whether the "secrets of all hearts shall +be revealed," or whether all secrets shall be kept in the silence of +universal slumber; but he looks to the possibility of a judgment to +come. He is speaking for mankind generally, and is not concerned with +his own beliefs or disbeliefs.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_347" id="Footnote_347"></a><a href="#FNanchor_347"><span class="label">[347]</span></a> <a id="Note_284" name="Note_284">{284}</a> [The poet would follow in the wake of the clouds. +He must pierce them, and bend his steps to the region of their growth, +the mountain-top, where earth begets and air brings forth the vapours. +Another interpretation is that the Alps must be pierced in order to +attain the great and ever-ascending regions of the mountain-tops +("greater and greater as we proceed"). In the next stanza he pictures +himself looking down from the summit of the Alps on Italy, the goal of +his pilgrimage.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_348" id="Footnote_348"></a><a href="#FNanchor_348"><span class="label">[348]</span></a> [The Roman Empire engulfed and comprehended the great +empires of the past—the Persian, the Carthaginian, the Greek. It fell, +and kingdoms such as the Gothic (A.D. 493-554), the Lombardic (A.D. +568-774) rose out of its ashes, and in their turn decayed and passed +away.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_349" id="Footnote_349"></a><a href="#FNanchor_349"><span class="label">[349]</span></a> <a id="Note_285" name="Note_285">{285}</a> [The task imposed upon his soul, which dominates +every other instinct, is the concealment of any and every +emotion—"love, or hate, or aught," not the concealment of the +particular emotion "love or hate," which may or may not be the +"master-spirit" of his thought. He is anxious to conceal his feelings, +not to keep the world in the dark as to the supreme feeling which holds +the rest subject.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KW" id="Footnote_KW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KW"><span class="label">[kw]</span></a> <i>They are but as a self-deceiving wile</i>.-[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KX" id="Footnote_KX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KX"><span class="label">[kx]</span></a> <i>The shadows of the things that pass along</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KY" id="Footnote_KY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KY"><span class="label">[ky]</span></a> <a id="Note_286" name="Note_286">{286}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Fame is the dream of boyhood—I am not</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>So young as to regard the frown or smile</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Of crowds as making an immortal lot</i>.—[MS. (lines 6, 7 erased).]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_350" id="Footnote_350"></a><a href="#FNanchor_350"><span class="label">[350]</span></a> [Compare Shakespeare, <i>Coriolanus</i>, act iii. sc. 1, lines +66, 67— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For the mutable, rank-scented many, let them<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Regard me as I do not flatter."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_351" id="Footnote_351"></a><a href="#FNanchor_351"><span class="label">[351]</span></a> [Compare <i>Manfred</i>, act ii. sc. 2, lines 54-57— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My spirit walked not with the souls of men,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor looked upon the earth with human eyes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thirst of their ambition was not mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The aim of their existence was not mine."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_KZ" id="Footnote_KZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_KZ"><span class="label">[kz]</span></a> <a id="Note_287" name="Note_287">{287}</a> <i>O'er misery unmixedly some grieve</i>.—[MS.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_352" id="Footnote_352"></a><a href="#FNanchor_352"><span class="label">[352]</span></a> [Byron was at first in some doubt whether he should or +should not publish the "concluding stanzas of <i>Childe Harold</i> (those to +my <i>daughter</i>);" but in a letter to Murray, October 9, 1816, he reminds +him of his later determination to publish them with "the rest of the +Canto."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_353" id="Footnote_353"></a><a href="#FNanchor_353"><span class="label">[353]</span></a> <a id="Note_288" name="Note_288">{288}</a> ["His allusions to me in <i>Childe Harold</i> are cruel +and cold, but with such a semblance as to make <i>me</i> appear so, and to +attract sympathy to himself. It is said in this poem that hatred of him +will be taught as a lesson to his child. I might appeal to all who have +ever heard me speak of him, and still more to my own heart, to witness +that there has been no moment when I have remembered injury otherwise +than affectionately and sorrowfully. It is not my duty to give way to +hopeless and wholly unrequited affection, but so long as I live my chief +struggle will probably be not to remember him too kindly."—(<i>Letter of +Lady Byron to Lady Anne Lindsay</i>, extracted from Lord Lindsay's letter +to the <i>Times</i>, September 7, 1869.) +</p> +<p> +According to Mrs. Leigh (see her letter to Hodgson, Nov., 1816, <i>Memoirs +of Rev. F. Hodgson</i>, 1878, ii. 41), Murray paid Lady Byron "the +compliment" of showing her the transcription of the Third Canto, a day +or two after it came into his possession. Most probably she did not know +or recognize Claire's handwriting, but she could not fail to remember +that but one short year ago she had herself been engaged in transcribing +<i>The Siege of Corinth</i> and <i>Parisina</i> for the press. Between the making +of those two "fair copies," a tragedy had intervened.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_354" id="Footnote_354"></a><a href="#FNanchor_354"><span class="label">[354]</span></a> <a id="Note_289" name="Note_289">{289}</a> [The Countess Guiccioli is responsible for the +statement that Byron looked forward to a time when his daughter "would +know her father by his works." "Then," said he, "shall I triumph, and +the tears which my daughter will then shed, together with the knowledge +that she will have the feelings with which the various allusions to +herself and me have been written, will console me in my darkest hours. +Ada's mother may have enjoyed the smiles of her youth and childhood, but +the tears of her maturer age will be for me."—<i>My Recollections of Lord +Byron</i>, by the Countess Guiccioli, 1869, p. 172.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_355" id="Footnote_355"></a><a href="#FNanchor_355"><span class="label">[355]</span></a> [For a biographical notice of Ada Lady Lovelace, +including letters, elsewhere unpublished, to Andrew Crosse, see <i>Ada +Byron</i>, von E. Kölbing, <i>Englische Studien</i>, 1894, xix. 154-163.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LA" id="Footnote_LA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LA"><span class="label">[la]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>End of Canto Third</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i25"><i>Byron. July 4, 1816, Diodati</i>.—[C.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[291]</a></span></p> + +<h2 style="line-height:2em;"><a name="NOTES_3" id="NOTES_3"></a>NOTES<br /> +<span style="font-size:66%">TO</span><br /> +<span style="font-size:150%;">CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE</span>.<br /> +CANTO III. +</h2> + +<h4><a id="en_3_1" name="en_3_1"></a>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In "pride of place" here last the Eagle flew.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XVIII">Stanza xviii.</a> line 5.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Pride</span> of place" is a term of falconry, and means the +highest pitch of flight. See <i>Macbeth</i>, etc.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"An eagle towering in his pride of place<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at and killed."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">["A falcon towering in her pride of place," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Macbeth</i>, act ii. sc. 4, line 12.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_2" name="en_3_2"></a>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such as Harmodius drew on Athens' tyrant Lord.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XX">Stanza xx.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>See the famous song on Harmodius and Aristogeiton. +The best English translation is in Bland's <i>Anthology</i>, by +Mr. Denman—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"With myrtle my sword will I wreathe," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>[<i>Translations chiefly from the Greek Anthology, etc.</i>, 1806, +pp. 24, 25. The <i>Scholium</i>, attributed to Callistratus +(<i>Poetæ Lyrici Græci</i>, Bergk. Lipsiæ, 1866, p. 1290), +begins thus—</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[292]</a></span></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span title="E)n my/rtou kladi\ to\ xi/phos phorê/sô">Ἐν μύρτου κλαδὶ τὸ ξίφος φορήσω</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="Ô(\sper A(rmo/dios kai\ A)ristogei/tôn">Ὣσπερ Ἁρμόδιος καὶ Ἀριστογείτων</span>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="O(/te to\n y/rannon ktanetên">Ὅτε τὸν ύραννον κτανετην</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="I)sono/mous t' A)thê/nas e)poiêsa/tên">Ἰσονόμους τ' Ἀθήνας ἐποιησάτην</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Hence," says Mr. Tozer, "'the sword in myrtles drest' +(Keble's <i>Christian Year</i>, Third Sunday in Lent) became the +emblem of assertors of liberty."—<i>Childe Harold</i>, 1885, p. 262.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_3" name="en_3_3"></a>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And all went merry as a marriage bell.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XXI">Stanza xxi.</a> line 8.</p> + +<p>On the night previous to the action, it is said that a ball +was given at Brussels. [See notes to the text.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_4" name="en_3_4"></a>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Evan's—Donald's fame rings in each clansman's ears!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XXVI">Stanza xxvi.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>Sir Evan Cameron, and his descendant, Donald, the +"gentle Lochiel" of the "forty-five."</p> + +<p>[Sir Evan Cameron (1629-1719) fought against Cromwell, +finally yielding on honourable terms to Monk, June 5, 1658, +and for James II. at Killiecrankie, June 17, 1689. His grandson, +Donald Cameron of Lochiel (1695-1748), celebrated by +Campbell, in <i>Lochiel's Warning</i>, 1802, was wounded at +Culloden, April 16, 1746. His great-great-grandson, John +Cameron, of Fassieferne (b. 1771), in command of the 92nd +Highlanders, was mortally wounded at Quatre-Bras, June 16, +1815. Compare Scott's stanzas, <i>The Dance of Death</i>, lines +33, <i>sq</i>.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Where through battle's rout and reel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Storm of shot and hedge of steel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Led the grandson of Lochiel,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Valiant Fassiefern.<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i4">And Morven long shall tell,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And proud Ben Nevis hear with awe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How, upon bloody Quatre-Bras,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brave Cameron heard the wild hurra<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Of conquest as he fell."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Compare, too, Scott's <i>Field of Waterloo</i>, +stanza xxi. lines 14, 15—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And Cameron, in the shock of steel.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Die like the offspring of Lochiel."]<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[293]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_5" name="en_3_5"></a>5.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Ardennes waves above them her green leaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XXVII">Stanza xxvii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the +forest of Ardennes, famous in Bojardo's <i>Orlando</i>, and immortal +in Shakspeare's <i>As You Like It</i>. It is also celebrated +in Tacitus, as being the spot of successful defence by the +Germans against the Roman encroachments. I have ventured +to adopt the name connected with nobler associations +than those of mere slaughter.</p> + +<p>[It is a far cry from Soignies in South Brabant to Ardennes +in Luxembourg. Possibly Byron is confounding the "saltus +quibus nomen Arduenna" (Tacitus, <i>Ann.</i>, 3. 42), the scene +of the revolt of the Treviri, with the "saltus Teutoburgiensis" +(the Teutoburgen or Lippische Wald, which divides Lippe +Detmold from Westphalia), where Arminius defeated the +Romans (Tacitus, <i>Ann</i>., 1. 60). (For Boiardo's "Ardenna," +see <i>Orlando Innamorato</i>, lib. i. canto 2, st. 30.) +Shakespeare's Arden, the "immortal" forest, in <i>As You Like It</i>, +"favours" his own Arden in Warwickshire, but derived its +name from the "forest of Arden" in Lodge's <i>Rosalynd</i>.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_6" name="en_3_6"></a>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I turned from all she brought to those she could not bring.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XXX">Stanza xxx.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>My guide from Mount St. Jean over the field seemed +intelligent and accurate. The place where Major Howard +fell was not far from two tall and solitary trees (there was a +third cut down, or shivered in the battle), which stand a few +yards from each other at a pathway's side. Beneath these +he died and was buried. The body has since been removed +to England. A small hollow for the present marks where it +lay, but will probably soon be effaced; the plough has been +upon it, and the grain is. After pointing out the different +spots where Picton and other gallant men had perished; the +guide said, "Here Major Howard lay: I was near him when +wounded." I told him my relationship, and he seemed then +still more anxious to point out the particular spot and circumstances. +The place is one of the most marked in the field, +from the peculiarity of the two trees above mentioned. I +went on horseback twice over the field, comparing it with +my recollection of similar scenes. As a plain, Waterloo +seems marked out for the scene of some great action, though +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[294]</a></span> +this may be mere imagination: I have viewed with attention +those of Platea, Troy, Mantinea, Leuctra, Chæronea, and +Marathon; and the field around Mount St. Jean and Hougoumont +appears to want little but a better cause, and that +undefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages +throws around a celebrated spot, to vie in interest with any +or all of these, except, perhaps, the last mentioned.</p> + +<p>[For particulars of the death of Major Howard, +see <i>Personal Memoirs, etc.</i>, by Pryse Lockhart Gordon, 1830, ii. +322, 323.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_7" name="en_3_7"></a>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XXXIV">Stanza xxxiv.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p>The (fabled) apples on the brink of the lake Asphaltites +were said to be fair without, and, within, ashes.</p> + +<p>[Compare Tacitus, <i>Histor.</i>, lib. v. 7, "Cuncta sponte edita, +aut manu sata, sive herbæ tenues, aut flores, ut solitam in +speciem adolevere, atra et inania velut in cinerem vanescunt." +See, too, <i>Deut.</i> xxxii. 32, "For their vine is of the +vine of Sodom, and of the fields of Gomorrah: their grapes +are grapes of gall, their clusters are bitter."</p> + +<p>They are a species of gall-nut, and are described by +Curzon (<i>Visits to Monasteries of the Levant</i>, 1897, p. 141), +who met with the tree that bears them, near the Dead Sea, +and, mistaking the fruit for a ripe plum, proceeded to eat +one, whereupon his mouth was filled "with a dry bitter dust."</p> + +<p>"The apple of Sodom ... is supposed by some to refer +to the fruit of <i>Solanum Sodomeum</i> (allied to the tomato), +by others to the <i>Calotropis procera</i>" (<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. +"Apple").]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_8" name="en_3_8"></a>8.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For sceptred Cynics Earth were far too wide a den.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XLI">Stanza xli.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>The great error of Napoleon, "if we have writ our annals +true," was a continued obtrusion on mankind of his want of +all community of feeling for or with them; perhaps more +offensive to human vanity than the active cruelty of more +trembling and suspicious tyranny. Such were his speeches +to public assemblies as well as individuals; and the single +expression which he is said to have used on returning to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[295]</a></span> +Paris after the Russian winter had destroyed his army, +rubbing his hands over a fire, "This is pleasanter than +Moscow," would probably alienate more favour from his +cause than the destruction and reverses which led to the +remark.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_9" name="en_3_9"></a>9.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What want these outlaws conquerors should have?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XLVIII">Stanza xlviii.</a> line 6.</p> + +<p>"What wants that knave that a king should have?" was +King James's question on meeting Johnny Armstrong and +his followers in full accoutrements. See the Ballad.</p> + +<p>[Johnie Armstrong, the laird of Gilnockie, on the occasion +of an enforced surrender to James V. (1532), came before the +king somewhat too richly accoutred, and was hanged for +his effrontery—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There hang nine targats at Johnie's hat,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">And ilk ane worth three hundred pound—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">‘What wants that knave a king suld have<br /></span> +<span class="i4">But the sword of honour and the crown’?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border</i>, 1821, i. 127.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_10" name="en_3_10"></a>10.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The castled Crag of Drachenfels.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_Song1">Song, stanza 1,</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The castle of Drachenfels stands on the highest summit +of "the Seven Mountains," over the Rhine banks; it is in +ruins, and connected with some singular traditions. It is +the first in view on the road from Bonn, but on the opposite +side of the river: on this bank, nearly facing it, are the +remains of another, called the Jew's Castle, and a large +cross, commemorative of the murder of a chief by his brother. +The number of castles and cities along the course of the +Rhine on both sides is very great, and their situations +remarkably beautiful.</p> + +<p>[The castle of Drachenfels (Dragon's Rock) stands on the +summit of one, but not the highest, of the Siebengebirge, an +isolated group of volcanic hills on the right bank of the +Rhine between Remagen and Bonn. The legend runs that +in one of the caverns of the rock dwelt the dragon which +was slain by Siegfried, the hero of the Nibelungen Lied. +Hence the <i>vin du pays</i> is called <i>Drachenblut</i>.]</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[296]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_11" name="en_3_11"></a>11.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The whiteness of his soul—and thus men o'er him wept.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LVII">Stanza lvii.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>The monument of the young and lamented General Marceau +(killed by a rifle-ball at Alterkirchen, on the last day of +the fourth year of the French Republic) still remains as +described. The inscriptions on his monument are rather +too long, and not required: his name was enough; France +adored, and her enemies admired; both wept over him. +His funeral was attended by the generals and detachments +from both armies. In the same grave General Hoche is +interred, a gallant man also in every sense of the word; but +though he distinguished himself greatly in battle, he had not +the good fortune to die there: his death was attended by +suspicions of poison.</p> + +<p>A separate monument (not over his body, which is buried +by Marceau's) is raised for him near Andernach, opposite +to which one of his most memorable exploits was performed, +in throwing a bridge to an island on the Rhine [April 18, +1797]. The shape and style are different from that of +Marceau's, and the inscription more simple and pleasing.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The Army of the Sambre and Meuse<br /></span> +<span class="i6">to its Commander-in-Chief<br /></span> +<span class="i15">Hoche."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This is all, and as it should be. Hoche was esteemed +among the first of France's earlier generals, before Buonaparte +monopolised her triumphs. He was the destined +commander of the invading army of Ireland.</p> + +<p>[The tomb of François Sévérin Desgravins Marceau (1769-1796, +general of the French Republic) bears the following +epitaph and inscription:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Hic cineres, ubique nomen.'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"Ici repose Marceau, né à Chartres, Eure-et-Loir, soldat +à seize ans, général à vingtdeux ans. Il mourut en combattant +pour sa patrie, le dernier jour de l'an iv. de la République +française. Qui que tu sois, ami ou ennemi de ce jeune +héros, respecte ces cendres."</p></div> + +<p>A bronze statue at Versailles, raised to the memory of +General Hoche (1768-1797) bears a very similar record—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"A Lazare Hoche, né à Versailles le 24 juin, 1768, sergent +à seize ans, général en chef à vingt-cinq, mort à vingt-neuf, +pacificateur de la Vendée."]</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[297]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_12" name="en_3_12"></a>12.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here Ehrenbreitstein with her shattered wall.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LVIII">Stanza lviii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Ehrenbreitstein, i.e. "the broad stone of honour," one of +the strongest fortresses in Europe, was dismantled and blown +up by the French at the truce of Leoben. It had been, and +could only be, reduced by famine or treachery. It yielded +to the former, aided by surprise. After having seen the +fortifications of Gibraltar and Malta, it did not much strike +by comparison; but the situation is commanding. General +Marceau besieged it in vain for some time, and I slept in a +room where I was shown a window at which he is said to +have been standing observing the progress of the siege by +moonlight, when a ball struck immediately below it.</p> + +<p>[Ehrenbreitstein, which had resisted the French under +Marshal Boufflers in 1680, and held out against Marceau +(1795-96), finally capitulated to the French after a prolonged +siege in 1799. The fortifications were dismantled when the +French evacuated the fortress after the Treaty of Lunéville +in 1801. The Treaty of Leoben was signed April 18, 1797.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_13" name="en_3_13"></a>13.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Unsepulchred they roamed, and shrieked each wandering ghost.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LXIII">Stanza lxiii.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>The chapel is destroyed, and the pyramid of bones +diminished to a small number by the Burgundian Legion in +the service of France; who anxiously effaced this record of +their ancestors' less successful invasions. A few still remain, +notwithstanding the pains taken by the Burgundians for +ages (all who passed that way removing a bone to their +own country), and the less justifiable larcenies of the Swiss +postilions, who carried them off to sell for knife-handles; +a purpose for which the whiteness imbibed by the bleaching +of years had rendered them in great request. Of these relics +I ventured to bring away as much as may have made a +quarter of a hero, for which the sole excuse is, that if I had +not, the next passer-by might have perverted them to worse +uses than the careful preservation which I intend for them.</p> + +<p>[Charles the Bold was defeated by the Swiss at the Battle +of Morat, June 22, 1476. It has been computed that more +than twenty thousand Burgundians fell in the battle. At +first, to avoid the outbreak of a pestilence, the bodies were +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[298]</a></span> +thrown into pits. "Nine years later ... the mouldering +remains were unearthed, and deposited in a building ... on +the shore of the lake, near the village of Meyriez.... During +three succeeding centuries this depository was several +times rebuilt.... But the ill-starred relics were not destined +even yet to remain undisturbed. At the close of the last +century, when the armies of the French Republic were +occupying Switzerland, a regiment consisting mainly of +Burgundians, under the notion of effacing an insult to their +ancestors, tore down the 'bone-house' at Morat, covered +the contents with earth, and planted on the mound 'a tree +of liberty.' But the tree had no roots; the rains washed +away the earth; again the remains were exposed to view, +and lay bleaching in the sun for a quarter of a century. +Travellers stopped to gaze, to moralize, and to pilfer; +postilions and poets scraped off skulls and thigh-bones.... +At last, in 1822, the vestiges were swept together and resepulchred, +and a simple obelisk of marble was erected, to +commemorate a victory well deserving of its fame as a +military exploit, but all unworthy to be ranked with earlier +triumphs, won by hands pure as well as strong, defending +freedom and the right."—<i>History of Charles the Bold</i>, by +J. F. Kirk, 1868, iii. 404, 405.</p> + +<p>Mr. Murray still has in his possession the parcel of +bones—the "quarter of a hero"—which Byron sent home from the +field of Morat.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_14" name="en_3_14"></a>14.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Levelled Aventicum, hath strewed her subject lands.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LXV">Stanza lxv.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>Aventicum, near Morat, was the Roman capital of Helvetia, +where Avenches now stands.</p> + +<p>[Avenches (Wiflisburg) lies due south of the Lake of +Morat, and about five miles east of the Lake of Neuchâtel. +As a Roman colony it bore the name of <i>Pia Flavia Constans +Emerita</i>, and circ. 70 A.D. contained a population of sixty +thousand inhabitants. It was destroyed first by the Alemanni +and, afterwards, by Attila. "The Emperor Vespasian—son of +the banker of the town," says Suetonius (lib. viii. i)—"surrounded +the city by massive walls, defended it by semicircular +towers, adorned it with a capitol, a theatre, a forum, and +granted it jurisdiction over the outlying dependencies....</p> + +<p>"To-day plantations of tobacco cover the forgotten streets +of Avenches, and a single Corinthian column ['the lonelier +column,' the so-called <i>Cicognier</i>], with its crumbling arcade, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[299]</a></span> +remains to tell of former grandeur."—<i>Historic Studies in +Vaud, Berne, and Savoy</i>, by General Meredith Read, 1897, i. 16.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_15" name="en_3_15"></a>15.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And held within their urn one mind—one heart—one dust.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LXVI">Stanza lxvi.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>Julia Alpinula, a young Aventian priestess, died soon after +a vain endeavour to save her father, condemned to death as +a traitor by Aulus Cæcina. Her epitaph was discovered +many years ago;—it is thus:—"Julia Alpinula: Hic jaceo. +Infelicis patris, infelix proles. Deæ Aventiæ Sacerdos. +Exorare patris necem non potui: Male mori in fatis ille +erat. Vixi annos XXIII."—I know of no human composition +so affecting as this, nor a history of deeper interest. These +are the names and actions which ought not to perish, and to +which we turn with a true and healthy tenderness, from the +wretched and glittering detail of a confused mass of conquests +and battles, with which the mind is roused for a time +to a false and feverish sympathy, from whence it recurs at +length with all the nausea consequent on such intoxication.</p> + +<p>[A mutinous outbreak among the Helvetii, which had been +provoked by the dishonest rapacity of the twenty-first legion, +was speedily quelled by the Roman general Aulus Cæcina. +Aventicum surrendered (A.D. 69), but Julius Alpinus, a +chieftain and supposed ring-leader, was singled out for punishment +and put to death. "The rest," says Tacitus, "were +left to the ruth or ruthlessness of Vitellius" +(<i>Histor</i>., i. 67, 68). +Julia Alpinula and her epitaph were the happy inventions +of a sixteenth-century scholar. "It appears," writes Lord +Stanhope, "that this inscription was given by one Paul +Wilhelm, a noted forger (<i>falsarius</i>), to Lipsius, and by +Lipsius handed over to Gruterus. Nobody, either before +or since Wilhelm, has even pretended to have seen the stone ... as +to any son or daughter of Julius Alpinus, history is +wholly silent" (<i>Quarterly Review</i>, June, 1846, vol. lviii. p. 61; +<i>Historical Essays</i>, by Lord Mahon, 1849, pp. 297, 298).]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_16" name="en_3_16"></a>16.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In the sun's face, like yonder Alpine snow.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LXVII">Stanza lxvii.</a> line 8.</p> + +<p>This is written in the eye of Mont Blanc (June 3rd, 1816), +which even at this distance dazzles mine.—(July 20th.) I +this day observed for some time the distinct reflection of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[300]</a></span> +Mont Blanc and Mont Argentière in the calm of the lake, +which I was crossing in my boat; the distance of these +mountains from their mirror is sixty miles.</p> + +<p>[The first lines of the note dated June 3, 1816, were written +at "Dejean's Hôtel de l'Angleterre, at Sécheron, a small +suburb of Geneva, on the northern side of the lake." On the +10th of June Byron removed to the Campagne Diodati, about +two miles from Geneva, on the south shore of the lake +(<i>Life of Shelley</i>, by Edward Dowden, 1896, pp. 307-309).]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_17" name="en_3_17"></a>17.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">By the blue rushing of the arrowy Rhone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LXXI">Stanza lxxi.</a> line 3.</p> + +<p>The colour of the Rhone at Geneva is blue, to a depth of +tint which I have never seen equalled in water, salt or fresh, +except in the Mediterranean and Archipelago.</p> + +<p>[The blueness of the Rhone, which has been attributed to +various causes, is due to the comparative purity of the water. +The yellow and muddy stream, during its passage through +the lake, is enabled to purge itself to a very great extent of +the solid matter held in suspension—the glacial and other +detritus—-and so, on leaving its vast natural filtering-bed, it +flows out clear and blue: it has regained the proper colour +of pure water.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_18" name="en_3_18"></a>18.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">This hallowed, too, the memorable kiss.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_LXXIX">Stanza lxxix.</a> line 3.</p> + +<p>This refers to the account, in his <i>Confessions</i>, of his +passion for the Comtesse d'Houdetot (the mistress of St. +Lambert), and his long walk every morning, for the sake of +the single kiss which was the common salutation of French +acquaintance. Rousseau's description of his feelings on this +occasion may be considered as the most passionate, yet not +impure, description and expression of love that ever kindled +into words; which, after all, must be felt, from their very +force, to be inadequate to the delineation; a painting can +give no sufficient idea of the ocean.</p> + +<p>[Here is Rousseau's "passionate, yet not impure," description +of his sensations: "J'ai dit qu'il y avoit loin de l'Hermitage +à Eaubonne; je passois par les coteaux d'Andilly qui sont +charmans. Je rêvois en marchant à celle que j'allois voir, à +l'accueil caressant qu'elle me feroit, au baiser qui m'attendoit +a mon arrivée. Ce seul baiser, ce baiser funeste avant même +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[301]</a></span> +de le recevoir, m'embrasoit le sang à tel point, que ma tête +se troubloit, un éblouissement m'aveugloit, mes genoux tremblants +ne pouroient me soutenir; j'étois forcé de m'arréter, +de m'asseoir; toute ma machine étoit dans un désordre +inconcevable; j'étois prêt à m'évanouir.... A l'instant que +je la voyois, tout étoit réparé; je ne sentois plus auprès d'elle +que l'importunité d'une vigueur inépuisable et toujours +inutile."—<i>Les Confessions</i>, Partie II. livre ix.; +<i>Oeuvres Complètes de J.J. Rousseau</i>, 1837, i. 233.</p> + +<p>Byron's mother "would have it" that her son was like +Rousseau, but he disclaimed the honour antithetically and +with needless particularity (see his letter to Mrs. Byron, and +a quotation from his <i>Detached Thoughts, Letters</i>, 1898, i. +192, note). There was another point of unlikeness, which he +does not mention. Byron, on the passion of love, does not +"make for morality," but he eschews nastiness. The loves of +Don Juan and Haidée are chaste as snow compared with +the unspeakable philanderings of the elderly Jean Jacques +and the "mistress of St. Lambert."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, his mother was right. There was a resemblance, +and consequently an affinity, between Childe Burun +and the "visionary of Geneva"—delineated by another seer +or visionary as "the dreamer of love-sick tales, and the +spinner of speculative cobwebs; shy of light as the mole, +but as quick-eared too for every whisper of the public +opinion; the teacher of Stoic pride in his principles, yet the +victim of morbid vanity in his feelings and +conduct."—<i>The Friend</i>; <i>Works</i> of S. T. +Coleridge, 1853, ii. 124.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_19" name="en_3_19"></a>19.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of earth-o'ergazing mountains, and thus take.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XCI">Stanza xci.</a> line 3.</p> + +<p>It is to be recollected, that the most beautiful and impressive +doctrines of the divine Founder of Christianity were +delivered, not in the <i>Temple</i>, but on the <i>Mount</i>. To waive +the question of devotion, and turn to human eloquence,—the +most effectual and splendid specimens were not pronounced +within walls. Demosthenes addressed the public and +popular assemblies. Cicero spoke in the forum. That this +added to their effect on the mind of both orator and hearers, +may be conceived from the difference between what we read +of the emotions then and there produced, and those we ourselves +experience in the perusal in the closet. It is one thing +to read the <i>Iliad</i> at Sigæum and on the tumuli, or by the +springs with Mount Ida above, and the plain and rivers and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[302]</a></span> +Archipelago around you; and another to trim your taper +over it in a snug library—<i>this</i> I know. Were the early and +rapid progress of what is called Methodism to be attributed +to any cause beyond the enthusiasm excited by its vehement +faith and doctrines (the truth or error of which I presume +neither to canvass nor to question), I should venture to +ascribe it to the practice of preaching in the <i>fields</i>, and the +unstudied and extemporaneous effusions of its teachers. The +Mussulmans, whose erroneous devotion (at least in the lower +orders) is most sincere, and therefore impressive, are accustomed +to repeat their prescribed orisons and prayers, wherever +they may be, at the stated hours—of course, frequently +in the open air, kneeling upon a light mat (which they carry +for the purpose of a bed or cushion as required); the ceremony +lasts some minutes, during which they are totally +absorbed, and only living in their supplication: nothing can +disturb them. On me the simple and entire sincerity of these +men, and the spirit which appeared to be within and upon +them, made a far greater impression than any general rite +which was ever performed in places of worship, of which I +have seen those of almost every persuasion under the sun; +including most of our own sectaries, and the Greek, the +Catholic, the Armenian, the Lutheran, the Jewish, and the +Mahometan. Many of the negroes, of whom there are +numbers in the Turkish empire, are idolaters, and have free +exercise of their belief and its rites; some of these I had a +distant view of at Patras; and, from what I could make out +of them, they appeared to be of a truly Pagan description, +and not very agreeable to a spectator.</p> + +<p>[For this profession of "natural piety," compare Rousseau's +<i>Confessions</i>, Partie II. livre xii. +(<i>Oeuvres Complètes</i>, 1837, i. 341)—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Je ne trouve pas de plus digne hommage à la Divinité +que cette admiration muette qu'excite la contemplation de +ses oeuvres, et qui ne s'exprime point par des actes +développés. Je comprends comment les habitants des +villes, qui ne voient que des murs, des rues et des crimes, +ont peu de foi; mais je ne puis comprendre comment des +campagnards, et surtout des solitaires, peuvent n'en point +avoir. Comment leur âme ne s'élève-t-elle pas cent fois le +jour avec extase à l'Auteur des merveilles qui les frappent? +... Dans ma chambre je prie plus rarement et plus sèchement; +mais à l'aspect d'un beau paysage je me sens ému +sans pourvoir dire de quoi."</p></div> + +<p>Compare, too, Coleridge's lines "To Nature"—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"So will I build my altar in the fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the blue sky my fretted dome shall be,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[303]</a></span> +<span class="i0">And the sweet fragrance that the wild flower yields,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Shall be the incense I will yield to Thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thee only, God! and Thou shalt not despise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Even me, the priest of this poor sacrifice."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Poetical Works</i>, 1893, p. 190.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_20" name="en_3_20"></a>20.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The sky is changed!—and such a change! Oh Night!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XCII">Stanza xcii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The thunder-storm to which these lines refer occurred on +the 13th of June, 1816, at midnight. I have seen, among +the Acroceraunian mountains of Chimari, several more +terrible, but none more beautiful.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_21" name="en_3_21"></a>21.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Sun-set into rose-hues sees them wrought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_XCIX">Stanza xcix.</a> line 5.</p> + +<p>Rousseau's <i>Héloïse</i>, Lettre 17, Part IV., note. "Ces +montagnes sont si hautes, qu'une demi-heure après le soleil +couché, leurs sommets sont éclairés de ses rayons, dont le +rouge forme sur ces cimes blanches <i>une belle couleur de rose</i>, +qu'on aperçoit de fort loin."<a name="FNanchor_356" id="FNanchor_356"></a><a href="#Footnote_356" class="fnanchor">[356]</a> This applies more particularly</p> + +<p>to the heights over Meillerie.—"J'allai à Vévay loger à la +Clef;<a name="FNanchor_357" id="FNanchor_357"></a><a href="#Footnote_357" class="fnanchor">[357]</a> et pendant deux jours que j'y restai sans voir personne,</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[304]</a></span></p> +<p>je pris pour cette ville un amour qui m'a suivi dans tous mes +voyages, et qui m'y a fait établir enfin les héros de mon +roman. Je dirois volontiers à ceux qui ont du goût et qui +sont sensibles: Allez à Vévay—visitez le pays, examinez les +sites, promenez-vous sur le lac, et dites si la Nature n'a pas +fait ce beau pays pour une Julie, pour une Claire,<a name="FNanchor_358" id="FNanchor_358"></a><a href="#Footnote_358" class="fnanchor">[358]</a> et pour un +St. Preux; mais ne les y cherchez pas."—<i>Les Confessions</i>, +[P. I. liv. 4, <i>Oeuvres, etc.</i>, 1837, i. 78].—In July [June 23-27], +1816, I made a voyage round the Lake of Geneva;<a name="FNanchor_359" id="FNanchor_359"></a><a href="#Footnote_359" class="fnanchor">[359]</a> and, as +far as my own observations have led me in a not uninterested +nor inattentive survey of all the scenes most celebrated by +Rousseau in his <i>Héloïse</i>, I can safely say, that in this there +is no exaggeration. It would be difficult to see Clarens +(with the scenes around it, Vevay, Chillon, Bôveret, St. Gingo, +Meillerie, Evian,<a name="FNanchor_360" id="FNanchor_360"></a><a href="#Footnote_360" class="fnanchor">[360]</a> and the entrances of the Rhone) without +being forcibly struck with its peculiar adaptation to the +persons and events with which it has been peopled. But +this is not all; the feeling with which all around Clarens, +and the opposite rocks of Meillerie, is invested, is of a still +higher and more comprehensive order than the mere sympathy +with individual passion; it is a sense of the existence +of love in its most extended and sublime capacity, and of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[305]</a></span> +our own participation of its good and of its glory: it is the +great principle of the universe, which is there more condensed, +but not less manifested; and of which, though +knowing ourselves a part, we lose our individuality, and +mingle in the beauty of the whole.—If Rousseau had never +written, nor lived, the same associations would not less have +belonged to such scenes. He has added to the interest of +his works by their adoption; he has shown his sense of their +beauty by the selection; but they have done that for him +which no human being could do for them.—I had the fortune +(good or evil as it might be) to sail from Meillerie<a name="FNanchor_361" id="FNanchor_361"></a><a href="#Footnote_361" class="fnanchor">[361]</a> (where we +landed for some time) to St. Gingo during a lake storm, +which added to the magnificence of all around, although +occasionally accompanied by danger to the boat, which was +small and overloaded. It was over this very part of the +lake that Rousseau has driven the boat of St. Preux and +Madame Wolmar to Meillerie for shelter during a tempest. +On gaining the shore at St. Gingo, I found that the wind had +been sufficiently strong to blow down some fine old chestnut +trees on the lower part of the mountains. On the opposite +height of Clarens is a château<a name="FNanchor_362" id="FNanchor_362"></a><a href="#Footnote_362" class="fnanchor">[362]</a> [Château des Crêtes]. The +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[306]</a></span> +hills are covered with vineyards, and interspersed with some +small but beautiful woods; one of these was named the +"Bosquet de Julie;" and it is remarkable that, though long +ago cut down by the brutal selfishness of the monks of St. +Bernard (to whom the land appertained), that the ground +might be enclosed into a vineyard for the miserable drones +of an execrable superstition, the inhabitants of Clarens still +point out the spot where its trees stood, calling it by the name +which consecrated and survived them. Rousseau has not +been particularly fortunate in the preservation of the "local +habitations" he has given to "airy nothings." The Prior of +Great St. Bernard has cut down some of his woods for the +sake of a few casks of wine, and Buonaparte has levelled +part of the rocks of Meillerie in improving the road to the +Simplon. The road is an excellent one; but I cannot quite +agree with a remark which I heard made, that "La route +vaut mieux que les souvenirs."</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_22" name="en_3_22"></a>22.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of Names which unto you bequeathed a name.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_CV">Stanza cv.</a> line 2.</p> + +<p>Voltaire and Gibbon.</p> + +<p>[François Marie Arouet de Voltaire (1694-1778) lived on +his estate at Fernex, five miles north of Geneva, from +1759 to 1777. "In the garden at Fernex is a long <i>berceau</i> +walk, closely arched over with clipped horn-beam—a verdant +cloister, with gaps cut here and there, admitting a glimpse of +the prospect. Here Voltaire used to walk up and down, and +dictate to his secretary."—<i>Handbook for Switzerland</i>, p. 174.</p> + +<p>Previous to this he had lived for some time at Lausanne, +at "Monrepos, a country house at the end of a suburb," at +Monrion, "a square building of two storeys, and a high +garret, with wings, each fashioned like the letter L," and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[307]</a></span> +afterwards, in the spring of 1757, at No. 6, Rue du Grand +Chêne.—<i>Historic Studies</i>, ii. 210, 218, 219.</p> + +<p>Edward Gibbon (1737-1794) finished (1788) <i>The Decline +and Fall of the Roman Empire</i> at "La Grotte, an ancient +and spacious mansion behind the church of St. Francis, at +Lausanne," which was demolished by the Swiss authorities in +1879. Not only has the mansion ceased to exist, but the +garden has been almost entirely changed. The wall of the +Hôtel Gibbon occupies the site of the famous wooden +pavilion, or summer-house, and of the "berceau of plum trees, +which formed a verdant gallery completely arched overhead," +and which "were called after Gibbon, +La Gibbonière."—<i>Historic Studies</i>, i. I; ii. 493.</p> + +<p>In 1816 the pavilion was "utterly decayed," and the +garden neglected, but Byron gathered "a sprig of <i>Gibbon's +acacia</i>," and some rose leaves from his garden and enclosed +them in a letter to Murray (June 27, 1816). Shelley, on the +contrary, "refrained from doing so, fearing to outrage the +greater and more sacred name of Rousseau; the contemplation +of whose imperishable creations had left no vacancy +in my heart for mortal things. Gibbon had a cold and +unimpassioned spirit."—<i>Essays, etc.</i>, 1840, ii. 76.]</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_23" name="en_3_23"></a>23.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_CXIII">Stanza cxiii.</a> line 9.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">"——If't be so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For Banquo's issue have I <i>filed</i> my mind."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Macbeth</i>, [act iii. sc. 1, line 64].</p> + +<h4><a id="en_3_24" name="en_3_24"></a>24.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O'er others' griefs that some sincerely grieve.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C3_CXIV">Stanza cxiv.</a> line 7.</p> + +<p>It is said by Rochefoucault, that "there is <i>always</i> something +in the misfortunes of men's best friends not displeasing +to them."</p> + +<p>["Dans l'adversité de nos meilleurs amis, nous trouvons +toujours quelque chose qui ne nous déplaît pas."—<i>Appendice +aux Maximes de La Rochefoucauld, Panthéon Littéraire</i>, +Paris, 1836, p. 460.]</p> + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_356" id="Footnote_356"></a><a href="#FNanchor_356"><span class="label">[356]</span></a> <a id="Note_303" name="Note_303">{303}</a> [<i>Julie, ou La Nouvelle Héloïse</i>: +<i>Oeuvres Complètes de J. J. Rousseau</i>, Paris, 1837, ii. 262.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_357" id="Footnote_357"></a><a href="#FNanchor_357"><span class="label">[357]</span></a> [The Clef, is now a café on the Grande Place, +and still distinguished by the sign of the Key. But Vevey had other +associations for Rousseau, more powerful and more persuasive +than a solitary visit to an inn. "Madame Warens," +says General Read, "possessed a charming country resort +midway between Vevey and Chillon, just above the beautiful +village of Clarens. It was situated at the Bassets, amid +scenery whose exquisite features inspired some of the fine +imagery of Rousseau. It is now called the Bassets de Pury. +... The exterior of the older parts has not been changed. +... The stairway leads to a large <i>salon</i>, whose windows +command a view of Meillerie, St. Gingolph, and Bouveret, +beyond the lake. Communicating with this <i>salon</i> is a large +dining-room. +</p><p> +"These two rooms open to the east, upon a broad terrace. +At a corner of the terrace is a large summer-house, and +through the chestnut trees one sees as far as Les Crêtes, the +hillocks and bosquets described by Rousseau. Near by is a +dove-cote filled with cooing doves.... In the last century +this site (Les Crêtes) was covered with pleasure-gardens, and +some parts are even pointed out as associated with Rousseau +and Madame de Warens."—<i>Historic Sketches of Vaud, etc.</i>, +by General Meredith Read, 1897, i. 433-437. There was, +therefore, some excuse for the guide (see Byron's <i>Diary</i>, +September 18, 1816) "confounding Rousseau with St. Preux, +and mixing the man with the book."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_358" id="Footnote_358"></a><a href="#FNanchor_358"><span class="label">[358]</span></a> <a id="Note_304" name="Note_304">{304}</a> [Claire, afterwards Madame Orbe, is Julie's cousin and +confidante. She is represented as whimsical and humorous. +It is not impossible that "Claire," in <i>La Nouvelle Héloïse</i>, +"bequeathed her name" to Claire, otherwise Jane Clairmont.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_359" id="Footnote_359"></a><a href="#FNanchor_359"><span class="label">[359]</span></a> [Byron and Shelley sailed round the Lake of Geneva +towards the end of June, 1816. Writing to Murray, June +27, he says, "I have traversed all Rousseau's ground with +the <i>Héloïse</i> before me;" and in the same letter announces +the completion of a third canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>. He +revisited Clarens and Chillon in company with Hobhouse in +the following September (see extracts from a Journal, September +18, 1816, <i>Life</i>, pp. 311, 312).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_360" id="Footnote_360"></a><a href="#FNanchor_360"><span class="label">[360]</span></a> [Bouveret, St. Gingolph, Evian.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_361" id="Footnote_361"></a><a href="#FNanchor_361"><span class="label">[361]</span></a> <a id="Note_305" name="Note_305">{305}</a> [Byron mentions the "squall off Meillerie" in a letter +to Murray, dated Ouchy, near Lausanne, June 27, 1816. +Compare, too, Shelley's version of the incident: "The wind +gradually increased in violence until it blew tremendously; +and as it came from the remotest extremity of the lake, produced +waves of a frightful height, and covered the whole +surface with a chaos of foam.... I felt in this near +prospect of death a mixture of sensations, among which +terror entered, though but subordinately. My feelings would +have been less painful had I been alone; but I know that +my companion would have attempted to save me, and I was +overcome with humiliation, when I thought that his life +might have been risked to preserve mine."—<i>Letters from +Abroad</i>, etc.; <i>Essays</i>, by Percy Bysshe Shelley, edited by +Mrs. Shelley, 1840, ii. 68, 69.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_362" id="Footnote_362"></a><a href="#FNanchor_362"><span class="label">[362]</span></a> [Byron and Shelley slept at Clarens, June 26, 1816. +The windows of their inn commanded a view of the <i>Bosquet +de Julie</i>. "In the evening we walked thither. It is, indeed, +Julia's wood ... the trees themselves were aged but +vigorous.... We went again (June 27) to the <i>Bosquet de +Julie</i>, and found that the precise spot was now utterly +obliterated, and a heap of stones marked the place where +the little chapel had once stood. Whilst we were execrating +the author of this brutal folly, our guide informed us that +the land belonged to the Convent of St. Bernard, and that +this outrage had been committed by their orders. I knew +before that if avarice could harden the hearts of men, a +system of prescriptive religion has an influence far more +inimical to natural sensibility. I know that an isolated +man is sometimes restrained by shame from outraging the +venerable feelings arising out of the memory of genius, which +once made nature even lovelier than itself; but associated +man holds it as the very sacrament of this union to forswear +all delicacy, all benevolence, all remorse; all that is true, +or tender, or sublime."—<i>Essays, etc.</i>, 1840, ii. 75.]</p></div> +</div> + +<hr class="major" style="margin:2cm auto 2cm;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[309]</a></span></p> + +<div class="titlepage"> + <h1>CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE + <br /> + <span style="font-size:75%">CANTO THE FOURTH</span>.</h1> +<hr class="tb" /> +<div class="poem" style="margin-left:10em;"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Visto ho Toscana Lombardia Romagna,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quel monte che divide, e quel che serra<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Italia, e un mare e l'altro che la bagna.”<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p class="attrib"><i>Ariosto</i>, Satira iv. lines 58-60.</p> +<hr class="tb" /> +</div> + + +<hr class="major" style="margin:2cm auto 2cm;" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[311]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="INTRODUCTION_FOURTH" id="INTRODUCTION_FOURTH"></a> +INTRODUCTION TO THE FOURTH CANTO. +</h2> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> first draft of the Fourth Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>, which +embodies the original and normal conception of the poem, +was the work of twenty-six days. On the 17th of June, 1817, +Byron wrote to Murray: "You are out about the Third +Canto: I have not done, nor designed, a line of continuation +to that poem. I was too short a time at Rome for it, and +have no thought of recommencing." But in spite of this +assertion, "the numbers came," and on June 26 he made a +beginning. Thirty stanzas "were roughened off" on the 1st +of July, fifty-six were accomplished by the 9th, "ninety and +eight" by the 13th, and on July 20 he announces "the completion +of the fourth and ultimate canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>. +It consists of 126 stanzas." One stanza (xl.) was appended +to the fair copy. It suggested a parallel between Ariosto +"the Southern Scott," and Scott "the Northern Ariosto," +and excited some misgiving.</p> + +<p>In commending his new poem to Murray (July 20, August 7), +Byron notes three points in which it differed from its predecessors: +it is "the longest of the four;" "it treats more +of works of art than of nature;" "there are no metaphysics +in it—at least, I think not." In other words, "The Fourth +Canto is not a continuation of the Third. I have parted +company with Shelley and Wordsworth. Subject-matter and +treatment are alike new."</p> + +<p>The poem as it stood was complete, and, as a poem, it +lost as well as gained by the insertion of additional stanzas +and groups of stanzas, "purple patch" on "purple patch," +each by itself so attractive and so splendid. The pilgrim +finds himself at Venice, on the "Bridge of Sighs." He +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[312]</a></span> +beholds in a vision the departed glories of "a thousand years." +The "long array of shadows," the "beings of the mind," +come to him "like truth," and repeople the vacancy. +But he is an exile, and turns homeward in thought to "the +inviolate island of the sage and free." He is an exile and a +sufferer. He can and will endure his fate, but "ever and +anon" he feels the prick of woe, and with the sympathy of +despair would stand "a ruin amidst ruins," a desolate soul +in a land of desolation and decay. He renews his pilgrimage. +He passes Arquà, where "they keep the dust of Laura's +lover," lingers for a day at Ferrara, haunted by memories of +"Torquato's injured shade," and, as he approaches "the fair +white walls" of Florence, he re-echoes the "Italia! oh, Italia!" +of Filicaja's impassioned strains. At Florence he gazes, +"dazzled and drunk with beauty," at the "goddess in stone," +the Medicean Venus, but forbears to "describe the indescribable," +to break the silence of Art by naming its mysteries. +Santa Croce and the other glories "in Arno's dome +of Art's most princely shrine," he passes by unsung, if not +unseen; but Thrasymene's "sheet of silver," the "living +crystal" of Clitumnus' "gentlest waters," and Terni's "matchless +cataract," on whose verge "an Iris sits," and "lone +Soracte's ridge," not only call forth his spirit's homage, but +receive the homage of his Muse.</p> + +<p>And now the Pilgrim has reached his goal, "Rome the +wonderful," the sepulchre of empire, the shrine of art.</p> + +<p>Henceforth the works of man absorb his attention. Pompey's +"dread statue;" the Wolf of the Capitol; the Tomb of +Cecilia Metella; the Palatine; the "nameless column" of +the Forum; Trajan's pillar; Egeria's Grotto; the ruined +Colosseum, "arches on arches," an "enormous skeleton," +the Colosseum of the poet's vision, a multitudinous ring of +spectators, a bloody Circus, and a dying Gladiator; the +Pantheon; S. Nicola in Carcere, the scene of the Romana +Caritas; St. Peter's "vast and wondrous dome,"—are all celebrated +in due succession. Last of all, he "turns to the +Vatican," to view the Laocoon and the Apollo Belvidere, +the counterfeit presentments of ideal suffering and ideal +beauty. His "shrine is won;" but ere he bids us farewell +he climbs the Alban Mount, and as the Mediterranean once +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[313]</a></span> +more bursts upon his sight, he sums the moral of his argument. +Man and all his works are as a drop of rain in the +Ocean, "the image of eternity, the throne of the Invisible"!</p> + +<p>Byron had no sooner completed "this fourth and ultimate +canto," than he began to throw off additional stanzas. His +letters to Murray during the autumn of 1817 announce these +successive lengthenings; but it is impossible to trace the +exact order of their composition. On the 7th of August the +canto stood at 130 stanzas, on the 21st at 133; on the 4th of +September at 144, on the 17th at 150; and by November 15 it +had reached 167 stanzas. Of nineteen stanzas which were +still to be added, six—on the death of the Princess Charlotte +(died November 6, 1817)—were written at the beginning of +December, and two stanzas (clxxvii., clxxviii.) were forwarded +to Murray in the early spring of 1818.</p> + +<p>Of these additions the most notable are four stanzas on +Venice (including stanza xiii. on "The Horses of St. Mark"); +"The sunset on the Brenta" (stanzas xxvii.-xxix.); +The tombs in Santa Croce,—the apostrophe to +"the all Etruscan three," Petrarch, Dante, Boccaccio (stanzas liv.-lx.); +"Rome a chaos of ruins—antiquarian ignorance" (stanzas lxxx.-lxxxii.); +"The nothingness of Man—the hope of the future—Freedom" (stanzas xciii.-xcviii.); +"The Tarpeian Rock—the Forum—Rienzi" (stanzas cxii.-cxiv.); +"Love, Life, and Reason" (stanzas cxx.-cxxvii.); +"The Curse of Forgiveness" (stanzas cxxxv.-cxxxvii.); +"The Mole of Hadrian" (stanza clii.); +"The death of the Princess Charlotte" (stanzas clxvii.-clxxii.); +"Nemi" (stanzas clxxiii., clxxiv.); +"The Desert and one fair Spirit" (stanzas clxxvii., clxxviii.).</p> + +<p>Some time during the month of December, 1817, Byron +wrote out a fair copy of the entire canto, numbering 184 +stanzas <i>(MS. D.)</i>; and on January 7, 1818, Hobhouse left +Venice for England, with the "whole of the MSS.," viz. +<i>Beppo</i> (begun October, 1817), and the Fourth Canto of +<i>Childe Harold</i>, together with a work of his own, +a volume of essays on Italian literature, the antiquities of Rome, +etc., which he +had put together during his residence in Venice (July—December, 1817), +and proposed to publish as an appendix +to <i>Childe Harold</i>. +In his preface to <i>Historical Illustrations</i>, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[314]</a></span> +etc., 1818, Hobhouse explains that on his return to England +he considered that this "appendix to the Canto would be +swelled to a disproportioned bulk," and that, under this impression, +he determined to divide his material into two parts. +The result was that "such only of the notes as were more +immediately connected with the text" were printed as "Historical +Notes to Canto the Fourth," and that his longer +dissertations were published in a separate volume, under his +own name, as <i>Historical Illustrations to the Fourth Canto +of Childe Harold</i>. To these "Historical Notes" an interest +attaches apart from any consideration of their own worth +and importance; but to understand the relation between the +poem and the notes, it is necessary to retrace the movements +of the poet and his annotator.</p> + +<p>Byron and Hobhouse left the Villa Diodati, October 5, +1816, crossed the Simplon, and made their way together, via +Milan and Verona, to Venice. Early in December the +friends parted company. Byron remained at Venice, and +Hobhouse proceeded to Rome, and for the next four +months devoted himself to the study of Italian literature, in +connection with archæology and art. Byron testifies (September +14, 1817) that his researches were "indefatigable," +that he had "more real knowledge of Rome and its environs +than any Englishman who has been there since Gibbon." +Hobhouse left Rome for Naples, May 21; returned to Rome, +June 9; arrived at Terni, July 2; and early in July joined +Byron on the Brenta, at La Mira. The latter half of the +year (July—December, 1817) was occupied in consulting +"the best authorities" in the Ducal Library at Venice, with +a view to perfecting his researches, and giving them to the +world as an illustrative appendix to <i>Childe Harold</i>. It is +certain that Byron had begun the fourth canto, and written +some thirty or more stanzas, before Hobhouse rejoined him +at his villa of La Mira on the banks of the Brenta, in July, +1817; and it would seem that, although he had begun by +saying "that he was too short a time in Rome for it," he +speedily overcame his misgivings, and accomplished, as he +believed, the last "fytte" of his pilgrimage. The first draft was +Byron's unaided composition, but the "additional stanzas" +were largely due to Hobhouse's suggestions in the course of +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[315]</a></span> +conversation, if not to his written "researches." Hobhouse +himself made no secret of it. In his preface (p. 5) to +<i>Historical Illustrations</i> he affirms that both "illustrations" +and notes were "for the most part written while the noble +author was yet employed in the composition of the poem. +They were put into the hands of Lord Byron much in the +state in which they now appear;" and, writing to Murray, +December 7, 1817, he says, "I must confess I feel an affection +for it [Canto IV.] more than ordinary, as part of it was +begot as it were under my own eyes; for although your +poets are as shy as elephants and camels ... yet I +have, not unfrequently, witnessed his lordship's coupleting, +and some of the stanzas owe their birth to our morning walk +or evening ride at La Mira." Forty years later, in his +revised and enlarged "Illustrations" (<i>Italy: Remarks made +in Several Visits from the year 1816 to 1854</i>, by the Right +Hon. Lord Broughton, G.C.B., 1859, i. p. iv.), he reverts to +this collaboration: "When I rejoined Lord Byron at La +Mira ... I found him employed upon the Fourth Canto of +<i>Childe Harold</i>, and, later in the autumn, he showed me the +first sketch of the poem. It was much shorter than it afterwards +became, and it did not remark on several objects +which appeared to me peculiarly worthy of notice. I made +a list of these objects, and in conversation with him gave +him reasons for the selection. The result was the poem as +it now appears, and he then engaged me to write the notes."</p> + +<p>As the "delicate spirit" of Shelley suffused the third canto +of <i>Childe Harold</i>, so the fourth reveals the presence and +co-operation of Hobhouse. To his brother-poet he owed a +fresh conception, perhaps a fresh appreciation of nature; to +his lifelong friend, a fresh enthusiasm for art, and a host of +details, "dry bones ... which he awakened into the fulness of life."</p> + +<p>The Fourth Canto was published on Tuesday, April 28, 1818. +It was reviewed by [Sir] Walter Scott in the +<i>Quarterly Review</i>, No. xxxvii., April, 1818, +and by John Wilson in the +<i>Edinburgh Review</i>, No. 59, June, 1818. +Both numbers were +published on the same day, September 26, 1818.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[316]</a></span></p> + +<h3>CHILDE HAROLD, CANTO IV.</h3> + +<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Original Draft</span>. [MS. M.]</p> + +<p class="center">[June 26—July 19. 1817.]</p> + +<ul class="stanzas"> +<li>Stanza i. "I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza iii.-xi. "In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more,"—"The +spouseless Adriatic mourns her Lord,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xv. "Statues of glass—all shivered—the long file,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xviii.-xxvi. "I loved her from my boyhood—she to +me,"—"The Commonwealth of Kings—the Men of +Rome!"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xxx.-xxxix. "There is a tomb in Arquà;—reared in +air,"—"Peace to Torquato's injured shade! 'twas his,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xlii.-xlvi. "Italia! oh, Italia! thou who hast,"—"That +page is now before me, and on mine,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xlviii.-l. "But Arno wins us to the fair white +walls,"—"We gaze and turn away, and know not where,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza liii. "I leave to learnéd fingers, and wise hands,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxi.-lxxix. "There be more things to greet the heart +and eyes,"—"The Niobe of nations! there she stands,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxxxiii. "Oh, thou, whose chariot rolled on Fortune's wheel,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxxxiv. "The dictatorial wreath—couldst thou divine,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxxxvii.-xcii. "And thou, dread Statue! yet existent +in,"—"And would be all or nothing—nor could wait,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xcix.-cviii. "There is a stern round tower of other +days,"—"There is the moral of all human tales,"— +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[317]</a></span></li> + +<li>Stanza cx. "Tully was not so eloquent as thou,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxi. "Buried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxv.-cxix. "Egeria! sweet creation of some heart,"—"And +didst thou not, thy breast to his replying,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxviii.-cxxxiv. "Arches on arches! as it were that +Rome,"—"And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxxviii.-cli. "The seal is set.—Now welcome, thou +dread Power!"—"The starry fable of the Milky Way,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cliii.-clxvi. "But lo! the Dome—the vast and wondrous +Dome,"—"And send us prying into the abyss,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxv. "But I forget.—My Pilgrim's shrine is won,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxvi. "Upon the blue Symplegades: long years,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxix. "Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean—roll!"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxx. "His steps are not upon thy paths,—thy fields,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxxiii.-clxxxvi. "Thou glorious mirror, where the +Almighty's form,"—"Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been,"—</li> +</ul> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Additional Stanza</span>.</h4> + +<ul class="stanzas"> + +<li>Stanza xl. "Great as thou art, yet paralleled by those,"—</li> +</ul> + +<p class="center">(127 stanzas.)</p> + + +<h4><span class="smcap">Additions bound up with</span> MS. M.</h4> + +<ul class="stanzas"> + +<li>Stanza ii. "She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from Ocean,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xii.-xiv. "The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian +reigns,"—(November 10, 1817.)—"In youth She +was all glory,—a new Tyre,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xvi. "When Athens' armies fell at Syracuse,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xvii. "Thus, Venice! if no stronger claim were thine,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xxvii.-xxix. "The Moon is up, and yet it is not +night,"—"Filled with the face of heaven, which, from afar,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xlvii. "Yet, Italy! through every other land,"— +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[318]</a></span></li> + +<li>Stanza li. "Appear'dst thou not to Paris in this guise?"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lii. "Glowing, and circumfused in speechless love,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza liv.-lx. "In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie,"—"What +is her Pyramid of precious stones?"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxxx.-lxxxii. "The Goth, the Christian—Time—War—Flood, +and Fire,"—"Alas! the lofty city! and alas!"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxxxv. "Sylla was first of victors; but our own,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza lxxxvi. "The third of the same Moon whose former course,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xciii.-xcvi. "What from this barren being do we +reap?"—"Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cix. "Admire—exult—despise—laugh—weep,—for here,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxii.-cxiv. "Where is the rock of Triumph, the high +place,"—"Then turn we to her latest Tribune's name,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxiii. "Who loves, raves—'tis youth's frenzy—but the cure,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxv.-cxxvii. "Few—none—find what they love or +could have loved,"—"Yet let us ponder boldly—'tis a base,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxxv.-cxxxvii. "That curse shall be Forgiveness,—Have +I not,"—"But I have lived, and have not lived in vain,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clii. "Turn to the Mole which Hadrian reared on high,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxvii.-clxxii. "Hark! forth from the abyss a voice +proceeds,"—(On the death of the Princess Charlotte, +November 6, 1817.)—"These might have been her destiny—but no,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxiii. "Lo, Nemi! navelled in the woody hills,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxiv. "And near, Albano's scarce divided waves,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxvii. "Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place,"—(1818.)</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxviii. "There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,"—(1818.)</li> + +<li>Stanza clxxxi. "The armaments which thunderstrike the walls,"— +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[319]</a></span></li> + +<li>Stanza clxxxii. "Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee,"—</li> +</ul> + +<p class="center">(52 stanzas.)</p> + +<h4><span class="smcap">Additions included in</span> +MS. D.,<a name="FNanchor_363" id="FNanchor_363"></a><a href="#Footnote_363" class="fnanchor">[363]</a> +<span class="smcap">but not among</span> MSS. M.</h4> + +<ul class="stanzas"> +<li>Stanza xli. "The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xcvii. "But France got drunk with blood to vomit crime,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza xcviii. "Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxx. "Alas! our young affections run to waste,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxi. "Oh, Love! no habitant of earth thou art,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxii. "Of its own beauty is the mind diseased,"—</li> + +<li>Stanza cxxiv. "We wither from our youth, we gasp away,"—</li> +</ul> + +<p class="center">(Seven stanzas.)</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[321]</a></span></p> + +<h3> + + <span class="smcap">to</span><br /> + + JOHN HOBHOUSE, ESQ., A.M., F.R.S.,<br /> + &c., &c., &c. + +</h3> +<hr class="tb" /> +<p class="attrib"><span class="smcap">Venice</span>, <i>January</i> 2, 1818.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">My dear Hobhouse</span>,<br /> +<span class="smcap">After</span> an interval of eight years between the +composition of the first and last cantos of <i>Childe Harold</i>, +the conclusion of the poem is about to be submitted to the +public. In parting with so old a friend,<a name="FNanchor_364" id="FNanchor_364"></a><a href="#Footnote_364" class="fnanchor">[364]</a> 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 <i>Childe Harold</i>, for any public favour +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.</p> + + +<p>In so doing, I recur from fiction to truth; and in dedicating +to you in its complete, or at least concluded state, a +poetical work which is the longest, the most thoughtful and +comprehensive of my compositions, I wish to do honour to +myself by the record of many years' intimacy with a man of +learning, of talent, of steadiness, and of honour. It is not +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[322]</a></span> +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,<a name="FNanchor_365" id="FNanchor_365"></a><a href="#Footnote_365" class="fnanchor">[365]</a> but which 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 remind 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.</p> + + +<p>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 accompanied me from first to last; and perhaps +it may be a pardonable 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 describe; and however unworthy it +may be deemed of those magical 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 production, and I part with it +with a kind of regret, which I hardly suspected that events +could have left me for imaginary objects.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[323]</a></span></p> + +<p>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 perceive: like the Chinese in Goldsmith's <i>Citizen of +the World</i>,<a name="FNanchor_366" id="FNanchor_366"></a><a href="#Footnote_366" class="fnanchor">[366]</a> whom nobody would believe to be a Chinese, it +was in vain that I asserted, and imagined that I had drawn, +a distinction between the author and the pilgrim; and the +very anxiety to preserve this difference, and disappointment +at finding it unavailing, 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 <i>now</i> 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.</p> + +<p>In the course of the following canto it was my intention, +either in the text or in the notes, to have touched upon the +present state of Italian literature, and perhaps of manners. +But the text, within the limits I proposed, I soon found +hardly sufficient for the labyrinth of external objects, and the +consequent reflections: and for the whole of the notes, +excepting a few of the shortest, I am indebted to yourself,<a name="FNanchor_367" id="FNanchor_367"></a><a href="#Footnote_367" class="fnanchor">[367]</a> +and these were necessarily limited to the elucidation of the text.</p> + + +<p>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 +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[324]</a></span> +whom we have recently abode—to distrust, or at least defer +our judgment, and more narrowly examine our information. +The state of literary, as well as political party, appears to +run, or to <i>have</i> 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 più nobile ed insieme la più +dolce, tutte tutte le vie diverse si possono tentare, e che +sinche la patria di Alfieri e di Monti non ha perduto l'antico +valore, in tutte essa dovrebbe essere la prima." Italy has +great names still—Canova,<a name="FNanchor_368" id="FNanchor_368"></a><a href="#Footnote_368" class="fnanchor">[368]</a> Monti, Ugo Foscolo, Pindemonte, +Visconti, Morelli, Cicognara, Albrizzi, Mezzofanti, +Mai, Mustoxidi, Aglietti, and Vacca, will secure to the +present generation an honourable 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.</p> + + +<p>It has been somewhere said by Alfieri, that "La pianta +uomo nasce più robusta in Italia che in qualunque altra +terra—e che gli stessi atroci delitti che vi si commettono ne +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[325]</a></span> +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 neighbours, that +man must be wilfully blind, or ignorantly heedless, who is +not struck with the extraordinary capacity of this people, or, +if such a word be admissible, their <i>capabilities</i>,<a name="FNanchor_369" id="FNanchor_369"></a><a href="#Footnote_369" class="fnanchor">[369]</a> +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 unquenched +"longing after immortality,"<a name="FNanchor_370" id="FNanchor_370"></a><a href="#Footnote_370" class="fnanchor">[370]</a>—the immortality of independence. +And when we ourselves, in riding round the walls of +Rome, heard the simple lament of the labourers' chorus, +"Roma! Roma! Roma! Roma non è più come era prima!"<a name="FNanchor_371" id="FNanchor_371"></a><a href="#Footnote_371" class="fnanchor">[371]</a> +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,<a name="FNanchor_372" id="FNanchor_372"></a><a href="#Footnote_372" class="fnanchor">[372]</a> and +the betrayal of Genoa, of Italy, of France, and of the world, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[326]</a></span> +by men whose conduct you yourself have exposed in a work +worthy of the better days of our history.<a name="FNanchor_373" id="FNanchor_373"></a><a href="#Footnote_373" class="fnanchor">[373]</a> For me,—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Non movero mai corda<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ove la turba di sue ciance assorda."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>What Italy has gained by the late transfer of nations, it +were useless for Englishmen to enquire, till it becomes ascertained +that England has acquired something more than a +permanent army and a suspended Habeas Corpus;<a name="FNanchor_374" id="FNanchor_374"></a><a href="#Footnote_374" class="fnanchor">[374]</a> it is +enough for them to look at home. For what they have done +abroad, and especially in the South, "Verily they <i>will have</i> +their reward," and at no very distant period.</p> + +<p>Wishing you, my dear Hobhouse, a safe and agreeable +return 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</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">Your obliged<br /></span> +<span class="i15">And affectionate friend,<br /></span> +<span class="i25">BYRON.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<hr class="major" /> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[327]</a></span></p> + +<h2><a name="CANTO_FOURTH" id="CANTO_FOURTH"></a> +CANTO THE FOURTH<a name="FNanchor_375" id="FNanchor_375"></a><a href="#Footnote_375" class="fnanchor">[375]</a> +</h2> + +<h4><a id="C4_I" name="C4_I"></a>I.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">I stood</span> in Venice, on the "Bridge of Sighs;"<a name="FNanchor_376" id="FNanchor_376"></a><a href="#Footnote_376" class="fnanchor">[376]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_1">[1.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Palace and a prison on each hand:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I saw from out the wave her structures rise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As from the stroke of the Enchanter's wand:<a name="FNanchor_377" id="FNanchor_377"></a><a href="#Footnote_377" class="fnanchor">[377]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[328]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand Years their cloudy wings expand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Around me, and a dying Glory smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the far times, when many a subject land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looked to the winged Lion's marble piles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!<a name="FNanchor_LB" id="FNanchor_LB"></a><a href="#Footnote_LB" class="fnanchor">[lb]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">She looks a sea Cybele,<a name="FNanchor_378" id="FNanchor_378"></a><a href="#Footnote_378" class="fnanchor">[378]</a> fresh from Ocean,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rising with her tiara of proud towers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At airy distance, with majestic motion,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Ruler of the waters and their powers:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[329]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And such she was;—her daughters had their dowers<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East<a name="FNanchor_LC" id="FNanchor_LC"></a><a href="#Footnote_LC" class="fnanchor">[lc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.<a name="FNanchor_379" id="FNanchor_379"></a><a href="#Footnote_379" class="fnanchor">[379]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In purple was she robed,<a name="FNanchor_380" id="FNanchor_380"></a><a href="#Footnote_380" class="fnanchor">[380]</a> and of her feast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.<a name="FNanchor_LD" id="FNanchor_LD"></a><a href="#Footnote_LD" class="fnanchor">[ld]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_III" name="C4_III"></a>III.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_2">[2.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And silent rows the songless Gondolier;<a name="FNanchor_381" id="FNanchor_381"></a><a href="#Footnote_381" class="fnanchor">[381]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Music meets not always now the ear:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[330]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Those days are gone—but Beauty still is here.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">States fall—Arts fade—but Nature doth not die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pleasant place of all festivity,<a name="FNanchor_LE" id="FNanchor_LE"></a><a href="#Footnote_LE" class="fnanchor">[le]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Revel of the earth—the Masque of Italy!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But unto us she hath a spell beyond<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her name in story, and her long array<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the Dogeless city's vanished sway;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[331]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Ours is a trophy which will not decay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the Rialto;<a name="FNanchor_382" id="FNanchor_382"></a><a href="#Footnote_382" class="fnanchor">[382]</a> Shylock and the Moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Pierre,<a name="FNanchor_383" id="FNanchor_383"></a><a href="#Footnote_383" class="fnanchor">[383]</a> can not be swept or worn away—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The keystones of the Arch! though all were o'er,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For us repeopled were the solitary shore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[332]</a></span>V.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Beings of the Mind are not of clay:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Essentially immortal, they create<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And multiply in us a brighter ray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And more beloved existence:<a name="FNanchor_384" id="FNanchor_384"></a><a href="#Footnote_384" class="fnanchor">[384]</a> that which Fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prohibits to dull life in this our state<a name="FNanchor_LF" id="FNanchor_LF"></a><a href="#Footnote_LF" class="fnanchor">[lf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of mortal bondage, by these Spirits supplied,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">First exiles, then replaces what we hate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Watering the heart whose early flowers have died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And with a fresher growth replenishing the void.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Such is the refuge of our youth and age—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The first from Hope, the last from Vacancy;<a name="FNanchor_385" id="FNanchor_385"></a><a href="#Footnote_385" class="fnanchor">[385]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[333]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And this wan feeling peoples many a page—<a name="FNanchor_LG" id="FNanchor_LG"></a><a href="#Footnote_LG" class="fnanchor">[lg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, may be, that which grows beneath mine eye:<a name="FNanchor_LH" id="FNanchor_LH"></a><a href="#Footnote_LH" class="fnanchor">[lh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet there are things whose strong reality<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outshines our fairy-land; in shape and hues<a name="FNanchor_LI" id="FNanchor_LI"></a><a href="#Footnote_LI" class="fnanchor">[li]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">More beautiful than our fantastic sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the strange constellations which the Muse<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er her wild universe is skilful to diffuse:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I saw or dreamed of such,—but let them go,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They came like Truth—and disappeared like dreams;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And whatsoe'er they were—are now but so:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I could replace them if I would; still teems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mind with many a form which aptly seems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such as I sought for, and at moments found;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let these too go—for waking Reason deems<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such over-weening phantasies unsound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And other voices speak, and other sights surround.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>VIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I've taught me other tongues—and in strange eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have made me not a stranger; to the mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is itself, no changes bring surprise;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor is it harsh to make, nor hard to find<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[334]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A country with—aye, or without mankind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet was I born where men are proud to be,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not without cause; and should I leave behind<a name="FNanchor_LJ" id="FNanchor_LJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_LJ" class="fnanchor">[lj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The inviolate Island of the sage and free,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And seek me out a home by a remoter sea,<a name="FNanchor_LK" id="FNanchor_LK"></a><a href="#Footnote_LK" class="fnanchor">[lk]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>IX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perhaps I loved it well; and should I lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My ashes in a soil which is not mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My Spirit shall resume it—if we may<a name="FNanchor_LL" id="FNanchor_LL"></a><a href="#Footnote_LL" class="fnanchor">[ll]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unbodied choose a sanctuary.<a name="FNanchor_386" id="FNanchor_386"></a><a href="#Footnote_386" class="fnanchor">[386]</a> I twine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My hopes of being remembered in my line<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With my land's language: if too fond and far<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These aspirations in their scope incline,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If my Fame should be, as my fortunes are,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of hasty growth and blight, and dull Oblivion bar<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[335]</a></span>X.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My name from out the temple where the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are honoured by the Nations—let it be—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And light the Laurels on a loftier head!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And be the Spartan's epitaph on me—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."<a name="FNanchor_387" id="FNanchor_387"></a><a href="#Footnote_387" class="fnanchor">[387]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Meantime I seek no sympathies, nor need—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thorns which I have reaped are of the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I planted,—they have torn me,—and I bleed:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XI" name="C4_XI"></a>XI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The spouseless Adriatic mourns her Lord,<a name="FNanchor_LM" id="FNanchor_LM"></a><a href="#Footnote_LM" class="fnanchor">[lm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And annual marriage now no more renewed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Bucentaur<a name="FNanchor_388" id="FNanchor_388"></a><a href="#Footnote_388" class="fnanchor">[388]</a> lies rotting unrestored,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Neglected garment of her widowhood!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[336]</a></span> +<span class="i2">St. Mark yet sees his Lion<a name="FNanchor_389" id="FNanchor_389"></a><a href="#Footnote_389" class="fnanchor">[389]</a> +where he stood <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_3">[3.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stand, but in mockery of his withered power,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Over the proud Place where an Emperor sued,<a name="FNanchor_LN" id="FNanchor_LN"></a><a href="#Footnote_LN" class="fnanchor">[ln]</a><a name="FNanchor_390" id="FNanchor_390"></a><a href="#Footnote_390" class="fnanchor">[390]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And monarchs gazed and envied in the hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When Venice was a Queen with an unequalled dower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XII" name="C4_XII"></a>XII.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[337]</a></span></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns— <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_4">[4.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Kingdoms are shrunk to provinces, and chains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clank over sceptred cities; Nations melt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From Power's high pinnacle, when they have felt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sunshine for a while, and downward go<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like Lauwine loosened from the mountain's belt;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo!<a name="FNanchor_391" id="FNanchor_391"></a><a href="#Footnote_391" class="fnanchor">[391]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_5">[5.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe.<a name="FNanchor_LO" id="FNanchor_LO"></a><a href="#Footnote_LO" class="fnanchor">[lo]</a><a name="FNanchor_392" id="FNanchor_392"></a><a href="#Footnote_392" class="fnanchor">[392]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[338]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C4_XIII" name="C4_XIII"></a>XIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Before St. Mark still glow his Steeds of brass,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their gilded collars glittering in the sun;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But is not Doria's menace<a name="FNanchor_393" id="FNanchor_393"></a><a href="#Footnote_393" class="fnanchor">[393]</a> +come to pass? <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_6">[6.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are they not bridled?—Venice, lost and won,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her thirteen hundred years of freedom done,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sinks, like a sea-weed, unto whence she rose!<a name="FNanchor_LP" id="FNanchor_LP"></a><a href="#Footnote_LP" class="fnanchor">[lp]</a><a name="FNanchor_394" id="FNanchor_394"></a><a href="#Footnote_394" class="fnanchor">[394]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[339]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Better be whelmed beneath the waves, and shun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even in Destruction's depth, her foreign foes,<a name="FNanchor_LQ" id="FNanchor_LQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_LQ" class="fnanchor">[lq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">From whom Submission wrings an infamous repose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In youth She was all glory,—a new Tyre,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her very by-word sprung from Victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The "Planter of the Lion,"<a name="FNanchor_395" id="FNanchor_395"></a><a href="#Footnote_395" class="fnanchor">[395]</a> which through fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blood she bore o'er subject Earth and Sea;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[340]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Though making many slaves, Herself still free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Europe's bulwark 'gainst the Ottomite;<a name="FNanchor_396" id="FNanchor_396"></a><a href="#Footnote_396" class="fnanchor">[396]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Witness Troy's rival, Candia!<a name="FNanchor_397" id="FNanchor_397"></a><a href="#Footnote_397" class="fnanchor">[397]</a> Vouch it, ye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Immortal waves that saw Lepanto's fight!<a name="FNanchor_398" id="FNanchor_398"></a><a href="#Footnote_398" class="fnanchor">[398]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">For ye are names no Time nor Tyranny can blight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XV" name="C4_XV"></a>XV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Statues of glass—all shivered—the long file<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of her dead Doges are declined to dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But where they dwelt, the vast and sumptuous pile<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bespeaks the pageant of their splendid trust;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their sceptre broken, and their sword in rust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have yielded to the stranger: empty halls,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[341]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thin streets, and foreign aspects, such as must<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too oft remind her who and what enthrals, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_7">[7.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have flung a desolate cloud o'er Venice' lovely walls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">When Athens' armies fell at Syracuse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fettered thousands bore the yoke of war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Redemption rose up in the Attic Muse,<a name="FNanchor_399" id="FNanchor_399"></a><a href="#Footnote_399" class="fnanchor">[399]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her voice their only ransom from afar:<a name="FNanchor_LR" id="FNanchor_LR"></a><a href="#Footnote_LR" class="fnanchor">[lr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">See! as they chant the tragic hymn, the car<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the o'ermastered Victor stops—the reins<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fall from his hands—his idle scimitar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Starts from its belt—he rends his captive's chains,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And bids him thank the Bard for Freedom and his strains.<a name="FNanchor_LS" id="FNanchor_LS"></a><a href="#Footnote_LS" class="fnanchor">[ls]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus, Venice! if no stronger claim were thine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were all thy proud historic deeds forgot—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[342]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thy choral memory of the Bard divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy love of Tasso, should have cut the knot<a name="FNanchor_LT" id="FNanchor_LT"></a><a href="#Footnote_LT" class="fnanchor">[lt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which ties thee to thy tyrants; and thy lot<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is shameful to the nations,—most of all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Albion! to thee:<a name="FNanchor_400" id="FNanchor_400"></a><a href="#Footnote_400" class="fnanchor">[400]</a> the Ocean queen should not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abandon Ocean's children; in the fall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Venice think of thine, despite thy watery wall.<a name="FNanchor_LU" id="FNanchor_LU"></a><a href="#Footnote_LU" class="fnanchor">[lu]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I loved her from my boyhood—she to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was as a fairy city of the heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rising like water-columns from the sea—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Joy the sojourn, and of Wealth the mart;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Otway, Radcliffe, Schiller, Shakespeare's art,<a name="FNanchor_LV" id="FNanchor_LV"></a><a href="#Footnote_LV" class="fnanchor">[lv]</a><a name="FNanchor_401" id="FNanchor_401"></a><a href="#Footnote_401" class="fnanchor">[401]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had stamped her image in me, and even so,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[343]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Although I found her thus, we did not part;<a name="FNanchor_LW" id="FNanchor_LW"></a><a href="#Footnote_LW" class="fnanchor">[lw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Perchance even dearer in her day of woe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than when she was a boast, a marvel, and a show.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I can repeople with the past—and of<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The present there is still for eye and thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And meditation chastened down, enough;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And more, it may be, than I hoped or sought;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And of the happiest moments which were wrought<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the web of my existence, some<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thee, fair Venice!<a name="FNanchor_402" id="FNanchor_402"></a><a href="#Footnote_402" class="fnanchor">[402]</a> have their colours caught:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There are some feelings Time can not benumb,<a name="FNanchor_LX" id="FNanchor_LX"></a><a href="#Footnote_LX" class="fnanchor">[lx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor Torture shake, or mine would now be cold and dumb.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[344]</a></span>XX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But from their nature will the Tannen<a name="FNanchor_403" id="FNanchor_403"></a><a href="#Footnote_403" class="fnanchor">[403]</a> grow<a name="FNanchor_LY" id="FNanchor_LY"></a><a href="#Footnote_LY" class="fnanchor">[ly]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Loftiest on loftiest and least sheltered rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rooted in barrenness, where nought below<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of soil supports them 'gainst the Alpine shocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of eddying storms; yet springs the trunk, and mocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The howling tempest, till its height and frame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are worthy of the mountains from whose blocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of bleak, gray granite into life it came,<a name="FNanchor_LZ" id="FNanchor_LZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_LZ" class="fnanchor">[lz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grew a giant tree;—the Mind may grow the same.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[345]</a></span>XXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Existence may be borne, and the deep root<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of life and sufferance make its firm abode<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In bare and desolated bosoms: mute<a name="FNanchor_MA" id="FNanchor_MA"></a><a href="#Footnote_MA" class="fnanchor">[ma]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The camel labours with the heaviest load,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the wolf dies in silence—not bestowed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In vain should such example be; if they,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Things of ignoble or of savage mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Endure and shrink not, we of nobler clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">May temper it to bear,—it is but for a day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">All suffering doth destroy, or is destroyed,<a name="FNanchor_404" id="FNanchor_404"></a><a href="#Footnote_404" class="fnanchor">[404]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even by the sufferer—and, in each event,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ends:—Some, with hope replenished and rebuoyed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Return to whence they came—with like intent,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[346]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And weave their web again; some, bowed and bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wax gray and ghastly, withering ere their time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And perish with the reed on which they leant;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some seek devotion—toil—war—good or crime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">According as their souls were formed to sink or climb.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But ever and anon of griefs subdued<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There comes a token like a Scorpion's sting,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scarce seen, but with fresh bitterness imbued;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And slight withal may be the things which bring<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Back on the heart the weight which it would fling<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aside for ever: it may be a sound—<a name="FNanchor_405" id="FNanchor_405"></a><a href="#Footnote_405" class="fnanchor">[405]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A tone of music—summer's eve—or spring—<a name="FNanchor_MB" id="FNanchor_MB"></a><a href="#Footnote_MB" class="fnanchor">[mb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A flower—the wind—the Ocean—which shall wound,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Striking the electric chain wherewith we are darkly bound;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[347]</a></span>XXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And how and why we know not, nor can trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Home to its cloud this lightning of the mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But feel the shock renewed, nor can efface<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blight and blackening which it leaves behind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which out of things familiar, undesigned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When least we deem of such, calls up to view<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Spectres whom no exorcism can bind,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cold—the changed—perchance the dead, anew—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The mourned—the loved—the lost—too many! yet how few!<a name="FNanchor_406" id="FNanchor_406"></a><a href="#Footnote_406" class="fnanchor">[406]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But my Soul wanders; I demand it back<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To meditate amongst decay, and stand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ruin amidst ruins; there to track<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fall'n states and buried greatness, o'er a land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which <i>was</i> the mightiest in its old command,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And <i>is</i> the loveliest, and must ever be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The master-mould of Nature's heavenly hand;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein were cast the heroic and the free,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beautiful—the brave—the Lords of earth and sea,<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[348]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Commonwealth of Kings—the Men of Rome!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And even since, and now, fair Italy!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou art the Garden of the World, the Home<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even in thy desert, what is like to thee?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy very weeds are beautiful—thy waste<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More rich than other climes' fertility;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy wreck a glory—and thy ruin graced<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Moon is up, and yet it is not night—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sunset divides the sky with her—a sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of glory streams along the Alpine height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of blue Friuli's mountains;<a name="FNanchor_407" id="FNanchor_407"></a><a href="#Footnote_407" class="fnanchor">[407]</a> Heaven is free<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From clouds, but of all colours seems to be,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Melted to one vast Iris of the West,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the Day joins the past Eternity;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Floats through the azure air—an island of the blest!<a name="FNanchor_408" id="FNanchor_408"></a><a href="#Footnote_408" class="fnanchor">[408]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[349]</a></span>XXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A single star is at her side, and reigns<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yon sunny Sea heaves brightly, and remains<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rolled o'er the peak of the far Rhætian hill,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As Day and Night contending were, until<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nature reclaimed her order:—gently flows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deep-dyed Brenta,<a name="FNanchor_409" id="FNanchor_409"></a><a href="#Footnote_409" class="fnanchor">[409]</a> where their hues instil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The odorous purple of a new-born rose,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which streams upon her stream, and glassed within it glows,<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[350]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Filled with the face of heaven, which, from afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Comes down upon the waters! all its hues,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the rich sunset to the rising star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their magical variety diffuse:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And now they change—a paler Shadow strews<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting Day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dies like the Dolphin, whom each pang imbues<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a new colour as it gasps away—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The last still loveliest, till—'tis gone—and all is gray.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XXX" name="C4_XXX"></a>XXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a tomb in Arquà;—reared in air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pillared in their sarcophagus, repose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bones of Laura's lover: here repair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Many familiar with his well-sung woes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Pilgrims of his Genius. He arose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To raise a language, and his land reclaim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the dull yoke of her barbaric foes:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Watering the tree which bears his Lady's name<a name="FNanchor_410" id="FNanchor_410"></a><a href="#Footnote_410" class="fnanchor">[410]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_8">[8.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his melodious tears, he gave himself to Fame.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[351]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C4_XXXI" name="C4_XXXI"></a>XXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They keep his dust in Arquà,<a name="FNanchor_411" id="FNanchor_411"></a><a href="#Footnote_411" class="fnanchor">[411]</a> +where he died— <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_9">[9.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mountain-village where his latter days<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[352]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Went down the vale of years; and 'tis their pride—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An honest pride—and let it be their praise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To offer to the passing stranger's gaze<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His mansion and his sepulchre—both plain<a name="FNanchor_MC" id="FNanchor_MC"></a><a href="#Footnote_MC" class="fnanchor">[mc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And venerably simple—such as raise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A feeling more accordant with his strain<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than if a Pyramid formed his monumental fane.<a name="FNanchor_MD" id="FNanchor_MD"></a><a href="#Footnote_MD" class="fnanchor">[md]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is one of that complexion which seems made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For those who their mortality<a name="FNanchor_412" id="FNanchor_412"></a><a href="#Footnote_412" class="fnanchor">[412]</a> have felt,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sought a refuge from their hopes decayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shows a distant prospect far away<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of busy cities, now in vain displayed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For they can lure no further; and the ray<a name="FNanchor_413" id="FNanchor_413"></a><a href="#Footnote_413" class="fnanchor">[413]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of a bright Sun can make sufficient holiday,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[353]</a></span>XXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Developing the mountains, leaves, and flowers,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shining in the brawling brook, where-by,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Clear as its current, glide the sauntering hours<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a calm languor, which, though to the eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Idlesse it seem, hath its morality—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If from society we learn to live,<a name="FNanchor_ME" id="FNanchor_ME"></a><a href="#Footnote_ME" class="fnanchor">[me]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis Solitude should teach us how to die;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It hath no flatterers—Vanity can give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No hollow aid; alone—man with his God must strive:<a name="FNanchor_MF" id="FNanchor_MF"></a><a href="#Footnote_MF" class="fnanchor">[mf]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or, it may be, with Demons,<a name="FNanchor_414" id="FNanchor_414"></a><a href="#Footnote_414" class="fnanchor">[414]</a> who impair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The strength of better thoughts, and seek their prey<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[354]</a></span> +<span class="i2">In melancholy bosoms—such as were<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of moody texture from their earliest day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And loved to dwell in darkness and dismay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deeming themselves predestined to a doom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is not of the pangs that pass away;<a name="FNanchor_MG" id="FNanchor_MG"></a><a href="#Footnote_MG" class="fnanchor">[mg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making the Sun like blood, the Earth a tomb,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The tomb a hell—and Hell itself a murkier gloom.<a name="FNanchor_MH" id="FNanchor_MH"></a><a href="#Footnote_MH" class="fnanchor">[mh]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ferrara!<a name="FNanchor_415" id="FNanchor_415"></a><a href="#Footnote_415" class="fnanchor">[415]</a> in thy wide and grass-grown streets,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose symmetry was not for solitude,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There seems as 'twere a curse upon the Seats<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of former Sovereigns, and the antique brood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Este,<a name="FNanchor_416" id="FNanchor_416"></a><a href="#Footnote_416" class="fnanchor">[416]</a> which for many an age made good<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its strength within thy walls, and was of yore<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[355]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Patron or Tyrant, as the changing mood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of petty power impelled, of those who wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wreath which Dante's brow alone had worn before.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Tasso is their glory and their shame—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hark to his strain! and then survey his cell!<a name="FNanchor_417" id="FNanchor_417"></a><a href="#Footnote_417" class="fnanchor">[417]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[356]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And see how dearly earned Torquato's fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And where Alfonso bade his poet dwell:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The miserable Despot could not quell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The insulted mind he sought to quench, and blend<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[357]</a></span> +<span class="i2">With the surrounding maniacs, in the hell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where he had plunged it. Glory without end<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scattered the clouds away—and on that name attend<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The tears and praises of all time, while thine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would rot in its oblivion—in the sink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of worthless dust, which from thy boasted line<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is shaken into nothing—but the link<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou formest in his fortunes bids us think<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy poor malice, naming thee with scorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alfonso! how thy ducal pageants shrink<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thee! if in another station born,<a name="FNanchor_MI" id="FNanchor_MI"></a><a href="#Footnote_MI" class="fnanchor">[mi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Scarce fit to be the slave of him thou mad'st to mourn:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XXXVIII" name="C4_XXXVIII"></a>XXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Thou!</i> formed to eat, and be despised, and die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even as the beasts that perish—save that thou<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hadst a more splendid trough and wider sty:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>He!</i> with a glory round his furrowed brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which emanated then, and dazzles now,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire,<a name="FNanchor_418" id="FNanchor_418"></a><a href="#Footnote_418" class="fnanchor">[418]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_10">[10.H.]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[358]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And Boileau, whose rash envy could allow<a name="FNanchor_MJ" id="FNanchor_MJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_MJ" class="fnanchor">[mj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">No strain which shamed his country's creaking lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That whetstone of the teeth—Monotony in wire!<a name="FNanchor_MK" id="FNanchor_MK"></a><a href="#Footnote_MK" class="fnanchor">[mk]</a><a name="FNanchor_419" id="FNanchor_419"></a><a href="#Footnote_419" class="fnanchor">[419]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peace to Torquato's injured shade! 'twas his<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In life and death to be the mark where Wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aimed with her poisoned arrows,—but to miss.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, Victor unsurpassed in modern song!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[359]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Each year brings forth its millions—but how long<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The tide of Generations shall roll on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And not the whole combined and countless throng<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Compose a mind like thine? though all in one<a name="FNanchor_ML" id="FNanchor_ML"></a><a href="#Footnote_ML" class="fnanchor">[ml]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Condensed their scattered rays—they would not form a Sun.<a name="FNanchor_MM" id="FNanchor_MM"></a><a href="#Footnote_MM" class="fnanchor">[mm]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Great as thou art, yet paralleled by those,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy countrymen, before thee born to shine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Bards of Hell and Chivalry: first rose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Tuscan Father's Comedy Divine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then, not unequal to the Florentine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The southern Scott, the minstrel who called forth<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A new creation with his magic line,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, like the Ariosto of the North,<a name="FNanchor_420" id="FNanchor_420"></a><a href="#Footnote_420" class="fnanchor">[420]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sang Ladye-love and War, Romance and Knightly Worth.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[360]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C4_XLI" name="C4_XLI"></a>XLI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_11">[11.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The iron crown of laurel's mimicked leaves;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor was the ominous element unjust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the true laurel-wreath which Glory weaves <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_12">[12.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is of the tree no bolt of thunder cleaves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the false semblance but disgraced his brow;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet still, if fondly Superstition grieves,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Know, that the lightning sanctifies below <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_13">[13.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whate'er it strikes;—yon head is doubly sacred now.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[361]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XLII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Italia! oh, Italia! thou who hast<a name="FNanchor_421" id="FNanchor_421"></a><a href="#Footnote_421" class="fnanchor">[421]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fatal gift of Beauty, which became<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A funeral dower of present woes and past—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On thy sweet brow is sorrow ploughed by shame,<a name="FNanchor_MN" id="FNanchor_MN"></a><a href="#Footnote_MN" class="fnanchor">[mn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And annals graved in characters of flame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, God! that thou wert in thy nakedness<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Less lovely or more powerful, and couldst claim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy right, and awe the robbers back, who press<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To shed thy blood, and drink the tears of thy distress;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then might'st thou more appal—or, less desired,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be homely and be peaceful, undeplored<a name="FNanchor_MO" id="FNanchor_MO"></a><a href="#Footnote_MO" class="fnanchor">[mo]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[362]</a></span> +<span class="i2">For thy destructive charms; then, still untired,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would not be seen the arméd torrents poured<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down the deep Alps; nor would the hostile horde<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of many-nationed spoilers from the Po<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Quaff blood and water; nor the stranger's sword<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Be thy sad weapon of defence—and so,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Victor or vanquished, thou the slave of friend or foe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Wandering in youth, I traced the path of him,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Roman friend of Rome's least-mortal mind,<a name="FNanchor_422" id="FNanchor_422"></a><a href="#Footnote_422" class="fnanchor">[422]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The friend of Tully: as my bark did skim<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The bright blue waters with a fanning wind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Came Megara before me, and behind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ægina lay—Piræus on the right,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[363]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And Corinth on the left; I lay reclined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the prow, and saw all these unite<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In ruin—even as he had seen the desolate sight;<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For Time hath not rebuilt them, but upreared<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Barbaric dwellings on their shattered site,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which only make more mourned and more endeared<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The few last rays of their far-scattered light,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the crashed relics of their vanished might.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Roman saw these tombs in his own age,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These sepulchres of cities, which excite<a name="FNanchor_MP" id="FNanchor_MP"></a><a href="#Footnote_MP" class="fnanchor">[mp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sad wonder, and his yet surviving page<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The moral lesson bears, drawn from such pilgrimage.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That page is now before me, and on mine<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>His</i> Country's ruin added to the mass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of perished states he mourned in their decline,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And I in desolation: all that <i>was</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of then destruction <i>is</i>; and now, alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rome—Rome imperial, bows her to the storm,<a name="FNanchor_423" id="FNanchor_423"></a><a href="#Footnote_423" class="fnanchor">[423]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[364]</a></span> +<span class="i2">In the same dust and blackness, and we pass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The skeleton of her Titanic form,<a name="FNanchor_424" id="FNanchor_424"></a><a href="#Footnote_424" class="fnanchor">[424]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wrecks of another world, whose ashes still are warm.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, Italy! through every other land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy wrongs should ring—and shall—from side to side;<a name="FNanchor_425" id="FNanchor_425"></a><a href="#Footnote_425" class="fnanchor">[425]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mother of Arts! as once of Arms! thy hand<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was then our Guardian, and is still our Guide;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Parent of our Religion! whom the wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nations have knelt to for the keys of Heaven!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Europe, repentant of her parricide,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall yet redeem thee, and, all backward driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Roll the barbarian tide, and sue to be forgiven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XLVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But Arno wins us to the fair white walls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the Etrurian Athens claims and keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A softer feeling for her fairy halls:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Girt by her theatre of hills, she reaps<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[365]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Her corn, and wine, and oil—and Plenty leaps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To laughing life, with her redundant Horn.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along the banks where smiling Arno sweeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was modern Luxury of Commerce born,<a name="FNanchor_MQ" id="FNanchor_MQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_MQ" class="fnanchor">[mq]</a><a name="FNanchor_426" id="FNanchor_426"></a><a href="#Footnote_426" class="fnanchor">[426]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And buried Learning rose, redeemed to a new Morn.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XLIX" name="C4_XLIX"></a>XLIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, too, the Goddess loves in stone, and fills +<a name="FNanchor_MR" id="FNanchor_MR"></a><a href="#Footnote_MR" class="fnanchor">[mr]</a> +<a name="FNanchor_427" id="FNanchor_427"></a><a href="#Footnote_427" class="fnanchor">[427]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_14">[14.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The air around with Beauty—we inhale<a name="FNanchor_MS" id="FNanchor_MS"></a><a href="#Footnote_MS" class="fnanchor">[ms]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[366]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The ambrosial aspect, which, beheld, instils<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Part of its immortality—the veil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of heaven is half undrawn—within the pale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We stand, and in that form and face behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What Mind can make, when Nature's self would fail;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to the fond Idolaters of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Envy the innate flash which such a Soul could mould:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>L.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We gaze and turn away, and know not where,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dazzled and drunk with Beauty,<a name="FNanchor_428" id="FNanchor_428"></a><a href="#Footnote_428" class="fnanchor">[428]</a> till the heart<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[367]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Reels with its fulness; there—for ever there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chained to the chariot of triumphal Art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We stand as captives, and would not depart.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Away!—there need no words, nor terms precise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The paltry jargon of the marble mart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Pedantry gulls Folly—we have eyes:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Blood—pulse—and breast confirm the Dardan Shepherd's prize.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Appear'dst thou not to Paris in this guise?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or to more deeply blest Anchises? or,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In all thy perfect Goddess-ship, when lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Before thee thy own vanquished Lord of War?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gazing in thy face as toward a star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laid on thy lap, his eyes to thee upturn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Feeding on thy sweet cheek!<a name="FNanchor_429" id="FNanchor_429"></a><a href="#Footnote_429" class="fnanchor">[429]</a> while thy lips are<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With lava kisses melting while they burn,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Showered on his eyelids, brow, and mouth, as from an urn!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[368]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Glowing, and circumfused in speechless love—<a name="FNanchor_MT" id="FNanchor_MT"></a><a href="#Footnote_MT" class="fnanchor">[mt]</a><a name="FNanchor_430" id="FNanchor_430"></a><a href="#Footnote_430" class="fnanchor">[430]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their full divinity inadequate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That feeling to express, or to improve—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Gods become as mortals—and man's fate<a name="FNanchor_MU" id="FNanchor_MU"></a><a href="#Footnote_MU" class="fnanchor">[mu]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has moments like their brightest; but the weight<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of earth recoils upon us;—let it go!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We can recall such visions, and create,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From what has been, or might be, things which grow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into thy statue's form, and look like gods below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I leave to learnéd fingers, and wise hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Artist and his Ape, to teach and tell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How well his Connoisseurship understands<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The graceful bend, and the voluptuous swell:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Let these describe the undescribable:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I would not their vile breath should crisp the stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wherein that Image shall for ever dwell—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The unruffled mirror of the loveliest dream<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ever left the sky on the deep soul to beam.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[369]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C4_LIV" name="C4_LIV"></a>LIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Santa Croce's<a name="FNanchor_431" id="FNanchor_431"></a><a href="#Footnote_431" class="fnanchor">[431]</a> +holy precincts lie <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_15">[15.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ashes which make it holier, dust which is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even in itself an immortality,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though there were nothing save the past, and this,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The particle of those sublimities<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which have relapsed to chaos:—here repose<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Angelo's—Alfieri's<a name="FNanchor_432" id="FNanchor_432"></a><a href="#Footnote_432" class="fnanchor">[432]</a> +bones—and his, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_16">[16.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The starry Galileo, with his woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here Machiavelli's earth returned to whence it rose. +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_17">[17.H.]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[370]</a></span>LV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These are four minds, which, like the elements,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might furnish forth creation:—Italy!<a name="FNanchor_MV" id="FNanchor_MV"></a><a href="#Footnote_MV" class="fnanchor">[mv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time, which hath wronged thee with ten thousand rents<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thine imperial garment, shall deny<a name="FNanchor_MW" id="FNanchor_MW"></a><a href="#Footnote_MW" class="fnanchor">[mw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And hath denied, to every other sky,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spirits which soar from ruin:—thy Decay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is still impregnate with divinity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which gilds it with revivifying ray;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as the great of yore, Canova<a name="FNanchor_433" id="FNanchor_433"></a><a href="#Footnote_433" class="fnanchor">[433]</a> is to-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[371]</a></span>LVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But where repose the all Etruscan three—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dante, and Petrarch, and, scarce less than they,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Bard of Prose, creative Spirit! he<a name="FNanchor_MX" id="FNanchor_MX"></a><a href="#Footnote_MX" class="fnanchor">[mx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the Hundred Tales of Love—where did they lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their bones, distinguished from our common clay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In death as life? Are they resolved to dust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And have their Country's Marbles nought to say?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could not her quarries furnish forth one bust?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Did they not to her breast their filial earth entrust?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_LVII" name="C4_LVII"></a>LVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar,<a name="FNanchor_434" id="FNanchor_434"></a><a href="#Footnote_434" class="fnanchor">[434]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_18">[18.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like Scipio buried by the upbraiding shore:<a name="FNanchor_435" id="FNanchor_435"></a><a href="#Footnote_435" class="fnanchor">[435]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_19">[19.H.]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[372]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thy factions, in their worse than civil war,<a name="FNanchor_436" id="FNanchor_436"></a><a href="#Footnote_436" class="fnanchor">[436]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Proscribed the Bard whose name for evermore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their children's children would in vain adore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With the remorse of ages; and the crown<a name="FNanchor_437" id="FNanchor_437"></a><a href="#Footnote_437" class="fnanchor">[437]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_20">[20.H.]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[373]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which Petrarch's laureate brow supremely wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon a far and foreign soil had grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Life, his Fame, his Grave, though rifled—not thine own.<a name="FNanchor_438" id="FNanchor_438"></a><a href="#Footnote_438" class="fnanchor">[438]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_LVIII" name="C4_LVIII"></a>LVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Boccaccio<a name="FNanchor_439" id="FNanchor_439"></a><a href="#Footnote_439" class="fnanchor">[439]</a> +to his parent earth bequeathed<a name="FNanchor_MY" id="FNanchor_MY"></a><a href="#Footnote_MY" class="fnanchor">[my]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_21">[21.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">His dust,—and lies it not her Great among,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[374]</a></span> +<span class="i2">With many a sweet and solemn requiem breathed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er him who formed the Tuscan's siren tongue?<a name="FNanchor_440" id="FNanchor_440"></a><a href="#Footnote_440" class="fnanchor">[440]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">That music in itself, whose sounds are song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The poetry of speech? No;—even his tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Uptorn, must bear the hyæna bigot's wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No more amidst the meaner dead find room,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor claim a passing sigh, because it told for <i>whom!</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Santa Croce wants their mighty dust;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet for this want more noted, as of yore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Cæsar's pageant,<a name="FNanchor_441" id="FNanchor_441"></a><a href="#Footnote_441" class="fnanchor">[441]</a> shorn of Brutus' bust,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Did but of Rome's best Son remind her more:<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[375]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Happier Ravenna! on thy hoary shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fortress of falling Empire! honoured sleeps<a name="FNanchor_MZ" id="FNanchor_MZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_MZ" class="fnanchor">[mz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The immortal Exile;—Arquà, too, her store<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of tuneful relics proudly claims and keeps,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While Florence vainly begs her banished dead and weeps.<a name="FNanchor_442" id="FNanchor_442"></a><a href="#Footnote_442" class="fnanchor">[442]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_LX" name="C4_LX"></a>LX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is her Pyramid of precious stones? <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_22">[22.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of porphyry, jasper, agate, and all hues<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of gem and marble, to encrust the bones<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of merchant-dukes?<a name="FNanchor_443" id="FNanchor_443"></a><a href="#Footnote_443" class="fnanchor">[443]</a> the momentary dews<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[376]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which, sparkling to the twilight stars, infuse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Freshness in the green turf that wraps the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose names are Mausoleums of the Muse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are gently prest with far more reverent tread<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than ever paced the slab which paves the princely head.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There be more things to greet the heart and eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Arno's dome of Art's most princely shrine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Sculpture with her rainbow Sister vies;<a name="FNanchor_444" id="FNanchor_444"></a><a href="#Footnote_444" class="fnanchor">[444]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">There be more marvels yet—but not for mine;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I have been accustomed to entwine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My thoughts with Nature rather in the fields,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than Art in galleries: though a work divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calls for my Spirit's homage, yet it yields<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less than it feels, because the weapon which it wields<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[377]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Is of another temper, and I roam<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Thrasimene's lake,<a name="FNanchor_445" id="FNanchor_445"></a><a href="#Footnote_445" class="fnanchor">[445]</a> in the defiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fatal to Roman rashness, more at home;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For there the Carthaginian's warlike wiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Come back before me, as his skill beguiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The host between the mountains and the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Courage falls in her despairing files,<a name="FNanchor_NA" id="FNanchor_NA"></a><a href="#Footnote_NA" class="fnanchor">[na]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And torrents, swoll'n to rivers with their gore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Reek through the sultry plain, with legions scattered o'er.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_LXIII" name="C4_LXIII"></a>LXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like to a forest felled by mountain winds;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And such the storm of battle on this day,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And such the frenzy, whose convulsion blinds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To all save Carnage, that, beneath the fray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An Earthquake<a name="FNanchor_446" id="FNanchor_446"></a><a href="#Footnote_446" class="fnanchor">[446]</a> +reeled unheededly away! <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_23">[23.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">None felt stern Nature rocking at his feet,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[378]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And yawning forth a grave for those who lay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon their bucklers for a winding sheet—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such is the absorbing hate when warring nations meet!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Earth to them was as a rolling bark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which bore them to Eternity—they saw<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Ocean round, but had no time to mark<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The motions of their vessel; Nature's law,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In them suspended, recked not of the awe<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which reigns when mountains tremble, and the birds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Plunge in the clouds for refuge, and withdraw<a name="FNanchor_NB" id="FNanchor_NB"></a><a href="#Footnote_NB" class="fnanchor">[nb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">From their down-toppling nests; and bellowing herds<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stumble o'er heaving plains—and Man's dread hath no words.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[379]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Far other scene is Thrasimene now;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her lake a sheet of silver, and her plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rent by no ravage save the gentle plough;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her agéd trees rise thick as once the slain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lay where their roots are; but a brook hath ta'en—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A little rill of scanty stream and bed—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A name of blood from that day's sanguine rain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Sanguinetto tells ye where the dead<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Made the earth wet, and turned the unwilling waters red.<a name="FNanchor_NC" id="FNanchor_NC"></a><a href="#Footnote_NC" class="fnanchor">[nc]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, Clitumnus<a name="FNanchor_447" id="FNanchor_447"></a><a href="#Footnote_447" class="fnanchor">[447]</a>! in thy sweetest wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the most living crystal that was e'er<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The haunt of river-Nymph, to gaze and lave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her limbs where nothing hid them, thou dost rear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy grassy banks whereon the milk-white steer<a name="FNanchor_448" id="FNanchor_448"></a><a href="#Footnote_448" class="fnanchor">[448]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Grazes—the purest God of gentle waters!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[380]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And most serene of aspect, and most clear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A mirror and a bath for Beauty's youngest daughters!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And on thy happy shore a Temple<a name="FNanchor_449" id="FNanchor_449"></a><a href="#Footnote_449" class="fnanchor">[449]</a> still,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of small and delicate proportion, keeps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Upon a mild declivity of hill,<a name="FNanchor_ND" id="FNanchor_ND"></a><a href="#Footnote_ND" class="fnanchor">[nd]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its memory of thee; beneath it sweeps<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[381]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thy current's calmness; oft from out it leaps<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The finny darter with the glittering scales,<a name="FNanchor_450" id="FNanchor_450"></a><a href="#Footnote_450" class="fnanchor">[450]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deeps;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While, chance, some scattered water-lily sails<a name="FNanchor_NE" id="FNanchor_NE"></a><a href="#Footnote_NE" class="fnanchor">[ne]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down where the shallower wave still tells its bubbling tales.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Pass not unblest the Genius of the place!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If through the air a Zephyr more serene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Win to the brow, 'tis his; and if ye trace<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Along his margin a more eloquent green,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If on the heart the freshness of the scene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sprinkle its coolness, and from the dry dust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of weary life a moment lave it clean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With Nature's baptism,—'tis to him ye must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pay orisons for this suspension of disgust.<a name="FNanchor_451" id="FNanchor_451"></a><a href="#Footnote_451" class="fnanchor">[451]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[382]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The roar of waters!—from the headlong height<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Velino cleaves the wave-worn precipice;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fall of waters! rapid as the light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The flashing mass foams shaking the abyss;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Hell of Waters! where they howl and hiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And boil in endless torture; while the sweat<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of their great agony, wrung out from this<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their Phlegethon, curls round the rocks of jet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That gird the gulf around, in pitiless horror set,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Returns in an unceasing shower, which round,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is an eternal April to the ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Making it all one emerald:—how profound<a name="FNanchor_NF" id="FNanchor_NF"></a><a href="#Footnote_NF" class="fnanchor">[nf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gulf! and how the Giant Element<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound,<a name="FNanchor_NG" id="FNanchor_NG"></a><a href="#Footnote_NG" class="fnanchor">[ng]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crushing the cliffs, which, downward worn and rent<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his fierce footsteps, yield in chasms a fearful vent<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">To the broad column which rolls on, and shows<br /></span> +<span class="i2">More like the fountain of an infant sea<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[383]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Torn from the womb of mountains by the throes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a new world, than only thus to be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Parent of rivers, which flow gushingly,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With many windings, through the vale:—Look back!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lo! where it comes like an Eternity,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As if to sweep down all things in its track,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Charming the eye with dread,—a matchless cataract,<a name="FNanchor_452" id="FNanchor_452"></a><a href="#Footnote_452" class="fnanchor">[452]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Horribly beautiful! but on the verge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From side to side, beneath the glittering morn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An Iris<a name="FNanchor_453" id="FNanchor_453"></a><a href="#Footnote_453" class="fnanchor">[453]</a> sits, amidst the infernal surge,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like Hope upon a death-bed, and, unworn<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[384]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Its steady dyes, while all around is torn<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the distracted waters, bears serene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its brilliant hues with all their beams unshorn:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Resembling, 'mid the torture of the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love watching Madness with unalterable mien.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[385]</a></span></p> + +<h4>LXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Once more upon the woody Apennine—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The infant Alps, which—had I not before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gazed on their mightier Parents, where the pine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sits on more shaggy summits, and where roar<a name="FNanchor_NH" id="FNanchor_NH"></a><a href="#Footnote_NH" class="fnanchor">[nh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The thundering Lauwine<a name="FNanchor_454" id="FNanchor_454"></a><a href="#Footnote_454" class="fnanchor">[454]</a>—might be worshipped more;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But I have seen the soaring Jungfrau rear<a name="FNanchor_NI" id="FNanchor_NI"></a><a href="#Footnote_NI" class="fnanchor">[ni]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her never-trodden snow, and seen the hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glaciers of bleak Mont Blanc both far and near—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in Chimari heard the Thunder-Hills of fear,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Th' Acroceraunian mountains of old name;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on Parnassus seen the Eagles fly<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[386]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Like Spirits of the spot, as 'twere for fame.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For still they soared unutterably high:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I've looked on Ida with a Trojan's eye;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Athos—Olympus—Ætna.—Atlas—made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These hills seem things of lesser dignity;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All, save the lone Soracte's height, displayed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Not <i>now</i> in snow, which asks the lyric Roman's aid<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For our remembrance, and from out the plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And on the curl hangs pausing: not in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">May he, who will, his recollections rake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And quote in classic raptures, and awake<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hills with Latian echoes—I abhorred<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too much, to conquer for the Poet's sake,<a name="FNanchor_455" id="FNanchor_455"></a><a href="#Footnote_455" class="fnanchor">[455]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The drilled dull lesson, forced down word by word<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In my repugnant youth,<a name="FNanchor_456" id="FNanchor_456"></a><a href="#Footnote_456" class="fnanchor">[456]</a> with pleasure to record<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[387]</a></span>LXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Aught that recalls the daily drug which turned<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My sickening memory; and, though Time hath taught<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[388]</a></span> +<span class="i2">My mind to meditate what then it learned,<a name="FNanchor_NJ" id="FNanchor_NJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_NJ" class="fnanchor">[nj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet such the fixed inveteracy wrought<a name="FNanchor_NK" id="FNanchor_NK"></a><a href="#Footnote_NK" class="fnanchor">[nk]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the impatience of my early thought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That, with the freshness wearing out before<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mind could relish what it might have sought,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If free to choose, I cannot now restore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its health—but what it then detested, still abhor.<a name="FNanchor_NL" id="FNanchor_NL"></a><a href="#Footnote_NL" class="fnanchor">[nl]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then farewell, Horace—whom I hated so,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not for thy faults, but mine: it is a curse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To understand, not feel thy lyric flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To comprehend, but never love thy verse;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Although no deeper Moralist rehearse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our little life, nor Bard prescribe his art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor livelier Satirist the conscience pierce,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Awakening without wounding the touched heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet fare thee well—upon Soracte's ridge we part.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Rome! my Country! City of the Soul!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The orphans of the heart must turn to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lone Mother of dead Empires! and control<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In their shut breasts their petty misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The cypress—hear the owl—and plod your way<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[389]</a></span> +<span class="i2">O'er steps of broken thrones and temples—Ye!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose agonies are evils of a day—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Niobe of nations! there she stands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe;<a name="FNanchor_NM" id="FNanchor_NM"></a><a href="#Footnote_NM" class="fnanchor">[nm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">empty urn within her withered hands,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose holy dust was scattered long ago;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now;<a name="FNanchor_457" id="FNanchor_457"></a><a href="#Footnote_457" class="fnanchor">[457]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The very sepulchres lie tenantless<a name="FNanchor_458" id="FNanchor_458"></a><a href="#Footnote_458" class="fnanchor">[458]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[390]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of their heroic dwellers: dost thou flow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Old Tiber! through a marble wilderness?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress.<a name="FNanchor_459" id="FNanchor_459"></a><a href="#Footnote_459" class="fnanchor">[459]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Goth, the Christian—Time—War—Flood, and Fire,<a name="FNanchor_460" id="FNanchor_460"></a><a href="#Footnote_460" class="fnanchor">[460]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have dealt upon the seven-hilled City's pride;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[391]</a></span> +<span class="i2">She saw her glories star by star expire,<a name="FNanchor_NN" id="FNanchor_NN"></a><a href="#Footnote_NN" class="fnanchor">[nn]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And up the steep barbarian Monarchs ride,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where the car climbed the Capitol;<a name="FNanchor_461" id="FNanchor_461"></a><a href="#Footnote_461" class="fnanchor">[461]</a> far and wide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Temple and tower went down, nor left a site:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And say, "here was, or is," where all is doubly night?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The double night of ages, and of her,<a name="FNanchor_NO" id="FNanchor_NO"></a><a href="#Footnote_NO" class="fnanchor">[no]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Night's daughter, Ignorance,<a name="FNanchor_462" id="FNanchor_462"></a><a href="#Footnote_462" class="fnanchor">[462]</a> hath wrapt and wrap<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[392]</a></span> +<span class="i2">All round us; we but feel our way to err:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Ocean hath his chart, the Stars their map,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Knowledge spreads them on her ample lap;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But Rome is as the desert—where we steer<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stumbling o'er recollections; now we clap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hands, and cry "Eureka!" "it is clear"—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When but some false Mirage of ruin rises near.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! the lofty city! and alas!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The trebly hundred triumphs!<a name="FNanchor_463" id="FNanchor_463"></a><a href="#Footnote_463" class="fnanchor">[463]</a> and the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Conqueror's sword in bearing fame away!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas, for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay,<a name="FNanchor_NP" id="FNanchor_NP"></a><a href="#Footnote_NP" class="fnanchor">[np]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Livy's pictured page!—but these shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her resurrection; all beside—decay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas, for Earth, for never shall we see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That brightness in her eye she bore when Rome was free!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, thou, whose chariot rolled on Fortune's wheel,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Triumphant Sylla!<a name="FNanchor_464" id="FNanchor_464"></a><a href="#Footnote_464" class="fnanchor">[464]</a> Thou, who didst subdue<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[393]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thy country's foes ere thou wouldst pause to feel<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wrath of thy own wrongs, or reap the due<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of hoarded vengeance till thine Eagles flew<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er prostrate Asia;—thou, who with thy frown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Annihilated senates;—Roman, too,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With all thy vices—for thou didst lay down<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With an atoning smile a more than earthly crown,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy dictatorial wreath—couldst thou divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To what would one day dwindle that which made<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[394]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Thee more than mortal? and that so supine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By aught than Romans Rome should thus be laid?<a name="FNanchor_NQ" id="FNanchor_NQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_NQ" class="fnanchor">[nq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">She who was named Eternal, and arrayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her warriors but to conquer—she who veiled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Earth with her haughty shadow, and displayed,<a name="FNanchor_NR" id="FNanchor_NR"></a><a href="#Footnote_NR" class="fnanchor">[nr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Until the o'er-canopied horizon failed,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her rushing wings—Oh! she who was Almighty hailed!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Sylla was first of victors; but our own,<a name="FNanchor_NS" id="FNanchor_NS"></a><a href="#Footnote_NS" class="fnanchor">[ns]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sagest of usurpers, Cromwell!—he<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too swept off senates while he hewed the throne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Down to a block—immortal rebel! See<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What crimes it costs to be a moment free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And famous through all ages! but beneath<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His fate the moral lurks of destiny;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His day of double victory and death<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Beheld him win two realms, and, happier, yield his breath.<a name="FNanchor_465" id="FNanchor_465"></a><a href="#Footnote_465" class="fnanchor">[465]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[395]</a></span>LXXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The third of the same Moon whose former course<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had all but crowned him, on the selfsame day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deposed him gently from his throne of force,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And laid him with the Earth's preceding clay.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And showed not Fortune thus how fame and sway,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all we deem delightful, and consume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our souls to compass through each arduous way,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are in her eyes less happy than the tomb?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were they but so in Man's, how different were his doom!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_LXXXVII" name="C4_LXXXVII"></a>LXXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, dread Statue!<a name="FNanchor_466" id="FNanchor_466"></a><a href="#Footnote_466" class="fnanchor">[466]</a> +yet existent in <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_24">[24.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The austerest form of naked majesty—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou who beheldest, 'mid the assassins' din,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At thy bathed base the bloody Cæsar lie,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Folding his robe in dying dignity—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An offering to thine altar from the Queen<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of gods and men, great Nemesis! did he die,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thou, too, perish, Pompey? have ye been<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Victors of countless kings, or puppets of a scene?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[396]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C4_LXXXVIII" name="C4_LXXXVIII"></a>LXXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, the thunder-stricken nurse of Rome!<a name="FNanchor_467" id="FNanchor_467"></a><a href="#Footnote_467" class="fnanchor">[467]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_25">[25.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">She-wolf! whose brazen-imaged dugs impart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The milk of conquest yet within the dome<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where, as a monument of antique art,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou standest:—Mother of the mighty heart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which the great Founder sucked from thy wild teat,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scorched by the Roman Jove's ethereal dart,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And thy limbs black with lightning—dost thou yet<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Guard thine immortal cubs, nor thy fond charge forget?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>LXXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou dost;—but all thy foster-babes are dead—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The men of iron; and the World hath reared<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cities from out their sepulchres: men bled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In imitation of the things<a name="FNanchor_468" id="FNanchor_468"></a><a href="#Footnote_468" class="fnanchor">[468]</a> they feared,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fought and conquered, and the same course steered,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">At apish distance; but as yet none have,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[397]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Nor could, the same supremacy have neared,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Save one vain Man, who is not in the grave—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, vanquished by himself, to his own slaves a slave—<a name="FNanchor_469" id="FNanchor_469"></a><a href="#Footnote_469" class="fnanchor">[469]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_XC" name="C4_XC"></a>XC.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The fool of false dominion—and a kind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of bastard Cæsar, following him of old<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With steps unequal; for the Roman's mind<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was modelled in a less terrestrial mould, <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_26">[26.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With passions fiercer, yet a judgment cold,<a name="FNanchor_470" id="FNanchor_470"></a><a href="#Footnote_470" class="fnanchor">[470]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And an immortal instinct which redeemed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The frailties of a heart so soft, yet bold—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alcides with the distaff now he seemed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">At Cleopatra's feet,—and now himself he beamed,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And came—and saw—and conquered!<a name="FNanchor_471" id="FNanchor_471"></a><a href="#Footnote_471" class="fnanchor">[471]</a> But the man<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who would have tamed his Eagles down to flee,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[398]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Like a trained falcon, in the Gallic van,<a name="FNanchor_472" id="FNanchor_472"></a><a href="#Footnote_472" class="fnanchor">[472]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which he, in sooth, long led to Victory,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a deaf heart which never seemed to be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A listener to itself, was strangely framed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With but one weakest weakness—Vanity—<a name="FNanchor_NT" id="FNanchor_NT"></a><a href="#Footnote_NT" class="fnanchor">[nt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Coquettish in ambition—still he aimed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And what? can he avouch, or answer what he claimed?<a name="FNanchor_NU" id="FNanchor_NU"></a><a href="#Footnote_NU" class="fnanchor">[nu]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And would be all or nothing—nor could wait<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the sure grave to level him; few years<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had fixed him with the Cæsars in his fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On whom we tread: For <i>this</i> the conqueror rears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Arch of Triumph! and for this the tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And blood of earth flow on as they have flowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An universal Deluge, which appears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Without an Ark for wretched Man's abode,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And ebbs but to reflow!—Renew thy rainbow, God!<a name="FNanchor_NV" id="FNanchor_NV"></a><a href="#Footnote_NV" class="fnanchor">[nv]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[399]</a></span></p> + +<h4>XCIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What from this barren being do we reap?<a name="FNanchor_473" id="FNanchor_473"></a><a href="#Footnote_473" class="fnanchor">[473]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our senses narrow, and our reason frail,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Life short, and truth a gem which loves the deep,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And all things weighed in Custom's falsest scale;<a name="FNanchor_474" id="FNanchor_474"></a><a href="#Footnote_474" class="fnanchor">[474]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Opinion an Omnipotence,—whose veil<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Mantles the earth with darkness, until right<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wrong are accidents, and Men grow pale<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Lest their own judgments should become too bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And their free thoughts be crimes, and Earth have too much light.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thus they plod in sluggish misery,<a name="FNanchor_NW" id="FNanchor_NW"></a><a href="#Footnote_NW" class="fnanchor">[nw]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rotting from sire to son, and age to age,<a name="FNanchor_475" id="FNanchor_475"></a><a href="#Footnote_475" class="fnanchor">[475]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[400]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Proud of their trampled nature, and so die,<a name="FNanchor_NX" id="FNanchor_NX"></a><a href="#Footnote_NX" class="fnanchor">[nx]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bequeathing their hereditary rage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the new race of inborn slaves, who wage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">War for their chains, and rather than be free,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bleed gladiator-like, and still engage<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Within the same Arena where they see<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their fellows fall before, like leaves of the same tree.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I speak not of men's creeds—they rest between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man and his Maker—but of things allowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Averred, and known, and daily, hourly seen—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The yoke that is upon us doubly bowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the intent of Tyranny avowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The edict of Earth's rulers, who are grown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The apes of him who humbled once the proud,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shook them from their slumbers on the throne;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too glorious, were this all his mighty arm had done.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Freedom find no Champion and no Child<a name="FNanchor_476" id="FNanchor_476"></a><a href="#Footnote_476" class="fnanchor">[476]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[401]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Such as Columbia saw arise when she<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sprung forth a Pallas, armed and undefined?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or must such minds be nourished in the wild,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deep in the unpruned forest, 'midst the roar<a name="FNanchor_NY" id="FNanchor_NY"></a><a href="#Footnote_NY" class="fnanchor">[ny]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of cataracts, where nursing Nature smiled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On infant Washington? Has Earth no more<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such seeds within her breast, or Europe no such shore?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But France got drunk with blood to vomit crime;<a name="FNanchor_NZ" id="FNanchor_NZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_NZ" class="fnanchor">[nz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fatal have her Saturnalia been<a name="FNanchor_OA" id="FNanchor_OA"></a><a href="#Footnote_OA" class="fnanchor">[oa]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Freedom's cause, in every age and clime;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because the deadly days which we have seen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And vile Ambition, that built up between<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man and his hopes an adamantine wall,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[402]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And the base pageant<a name="FNanchor_477" id="FNanchor_477"></a><a href="#Footnote_477" class="fnanchor">[477]</a> last upon the scene,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are grown the pretext for the eternal thrall<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which nips Life's tree, and dooms Man's worst—his second fall.<a name="FNanchor_478" id="FNanchor_478"></a><a href="#Footnote_478" class="fnanchor">[478]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Streams like the thunder-storm <i>against</i> the wind;<a name="FNanchor_479" id="FNanchor_479"></a><a href="#Footnote_479" class="fnanchor">[479]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The loudest still the Tempest leaves behind;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy tree hath lost its blossoms, and the rind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Chopped by the axe, looks rough and little worth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But the sap lasts,—and still the seed we find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sown deep, even in the bosom of the North;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>XCIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a stern round tower of other days<a name="FNanchor_480" id="FNanchor_480"></a><a href="#Footnote_480" class="fnanchor">[480]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[403]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Such as an army's baffled strength delays,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Standing with half its battlements alone,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And with two thousand years of ivy grown,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garland of Eternity, where wave<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The green leaves over all by Time o'erthrown;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What was this tower of strength? within its cave<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What treasure lay so locked, so hid?—A woman's grave.<a name="FNanchor_OB" id="FNanchor_OB"></a><a href="#Footnote_OB" class="fnanchor">[ob]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>C.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But who was she, the Lady of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Tombed in a palace? Was she chaste and fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worthy a king's—or more—a Roman's bed?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What race of Chiefs and Heroes did she bear?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What daughter of her beauties was the heir?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">How lived—how loved—how died she? Was she not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So honoured—and conspicuously there,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where meaner relics must not dare to rot,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Placed to commemorate a more than mortal lot?<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[404]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Was she as those who love their lords, or they<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who love the lords of others? such have been<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even in the olden time, Rome's annals say.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was she a matron of Cornelia's mien,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or the light air of Egypt's graceful Queen,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Profuse of joy—or 'gainst it did she war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Inveterate in virtue? Did she lean<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the soft side of the heart, or wisely bar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Love from amongst her griefs?—for such the affections are.<a name="FNanchor_OC" id="FNanchor_OC"></a><a href="#Footnote_OC" class="fnanchor">[oc]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perchance she died in youth—it may be, bowed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With woes far heavier than the ponderous tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That weighed upon her gentle dust: a cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Might gather o'er her beauty, and a gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In her dark eye, prophetic of the doom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Heaven gives its favourites<a name="FNanchor_481" id="FNanchor_481"></a><a href="#Footnote_481" class="fnanchor">[481]</a>—early death—yet shed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sunset charm around her, and illume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With hectic light, the Hesperus of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of her consuming cheek the autumnal leaf-like red.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[405]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Perchance she died in age—surviving all,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Charms—kindred—children—with the silver gray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On her long tresses, which might yet recall,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It may be, still a something of the day<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When they were braided, and her proud array<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And lovely form were envied, praised, and eyed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By Rome—But whither would Conjecture stray?<a name="FNanchor_482" id="FNanchor_482"></a><a href="#Footnote_482" class="fnanchor">[482]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus much alone we know—Metella died,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The wealthiest Roman's wife: Behold his love or pride!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I know not why—but standing thus by thee<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It seems as if I had thine inmate known,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou Tomb! and other days come back on me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With recollected music, though the tone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is changed and solemn, like the cloudy groan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of dying thunder on the distant wind;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[406]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Yet could I seat me by this ivied stone<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till I had bodied forth the heated mind<a name="FNanchor_OD" id="FNanchor_OD"></a><a href="#Footnote_OD" class="fnanchor">[od]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Forms from the floating wreck which Ruin leaves behind:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And from the planks, far shattered o'er the rocks,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Built me a little bark of hope, once more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To battle with the Ocean and the shocks<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the loud breakers, and the ceaseless roar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which rushes on the solitary shore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where all lies foundered that was ever dear:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But could I gather from the wave-worn store<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enough for my rude boat, where should I steer?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There woos no home, nor hope, nor life, save what is here.<a name="FNanchor_OE" id="FNanchor_OE"></a><a href="#Footnote_OE" class="fnanchor">[oe]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then let the Winds howl on! their harmony<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall henceforth be my music, and the Night<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sound shall temper with the owlets' cry,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As I now hear them, in the fading light<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dim o'er the bird of darkness' native site,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Answering each other on the Palatine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With their large eyes, all glistening gray and bright,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sailing pinions.—Upon such a shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What are our petty griefs?—let me not number mine.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[407]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown<a name="FNanchor_483" id="FNanchor_483"></a><a href="#Footnote_483" class="fnanchor">[483]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Matted and massed together—hillocks heaped<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On what were chambers—arch crushed, column strown<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In fragments—choked up vaults, and frescos steeped<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In subterranean damps, where the owl peeped,<a name="FNanchor_OF" id="FNanchor_OF"></a><a href="#Footnote_OF" class="fnanchor">[of]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deeming it midnight:—Temples—Baths—or Halls?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pronounce who can: for all that Learning reaped<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From her research hath been, that these are walls—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Behold the Imperial Mount! 'tis thus the Mighty falls.<a name="FNanchor_484" id="FNanchor_484"></a><a href="#Footnote_484" class="fnanchor">[484]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[408]</a></span>CVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is the moral of all human tales;<a name="FNanchor_485" id="FNanchor_485"></a><a href="#Footnote_485" class="fnanchor">[485]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[409]</a></span> +<span class="i2">First Freedom, and then Glory—when that fails,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wealth—Vice—Corruption,—Barbarism at last.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And History, with all her volumes vast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hath but <i>one</i> page,—'tis better written here,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where gorgeous Tyranny hath thus amassed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All treasures, all delights, that Eye or Ear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heart, Soul could seek—Tongue ask—Away with words! draw near,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Admire—exult—despise—laugh—weep,—for here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is such matter for all feeling:—Man!<a name="FNanchor_OG" id="FNanchor_OG"></a><a href="#Footnote_OG" class="fnanchor">[og]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ages and Realms are crowded in this span,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This mountain, whose obliterated plan<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The pyramid of Empires pinnacled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Glory's gewgaws shining in the van<a name="FNanchor_OH" id="FNanchor_OH"></a><a href="#Footnote_OH" class="fnanchor">[oh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till the Sun's rays with added flame were filled!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where are its golden roofs?<a name="FNanchor_486" id="FNanchor_486"></a><a href="#Footnote_486" class="fnanchor">[486]</a> where those who dared to build?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[410]</a></span>CX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Tully was not so eloquent as thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou nameless column<a name="FNanchor_487" id="FNanchor_487"></a><a href="#Footnote_487" class="fnanchor">[487]</a> with the buried base!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What are the laurels of the Cæsar's brow?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Crown me with ivy from his dwelling-place.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose arch or pillar meets me in the face,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Titus or Trajan's? No—'tis that of Time:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Triumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace<a name="FNanchor_OI" id="FNanchor_OI"></a><a href="#Footnote_OI" class="fnanchor">[oi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scoffing; and apostolic statues<a name="FNanchor_488" id="FNanchor_488"></a><a href="#Footnote_488" class="fnanchor">[488]</a> climb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To crush the imperial urn, whose ashes slept sublime,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[411]</a></span>CXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Buried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And looking to the stars: they had contained<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Spirit which with these would find a home,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The last of those who o'er the whole earth reigned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Roman Globe—for, after, none sustained,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But yielded back his conquests:—he was more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than a mere Alexander, and, unstained<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With household blood and wine, serenely wore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sovereign virtues—still we Trajan's<a name="FNanchor_489" id="FNanchor_489"></a><a href="#Footnote_489" class="fnanchor">[489]</a> name adore.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[412]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Where is the rock of Triumph,<a name="FNanchor_490" id="FNanchor_490"></a><a href="#Footnote_490" class="fnanchor">[490]</a> the high place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where Rome embraced her heroes?—where the steep<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[413]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Tarpeian?—fittest goal of Treason's race,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Promontory whence the Traitor's Leap<a name="FNanchor_OJ" id="FNanchor_OJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_OJ" class="fnanchor">[oj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Cured all ambition?<a name="FNanchor_491" id="FNanchor_491"></a><a href="#Footnote_491" class="fnanchor">[491]</a> Did the conquerors heap<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their spoils here? Yes; and in yon field below,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A thousand years of silenced factions sleep—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Forum, where the immortal accents glow,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And still the eloquent air breathes-burns with Cicero!<a name="FNanchor_OK" id="FNanchor_OK"></a><a href="#Footnote_OK" class="fnanchor">[ok]</a><a name="FNanchor_492" id="FNanchor_492"></a><a href="#Footnote_492" class="fnanchor">[492]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The field of Freedom—Faction—Fame—and Blood:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here a proud people's passions were exhaled,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[414]</a></span> +<span class="i2">From the first hour of Empire in the bud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To that when further worlds to conquer failed;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But long before had Freedom's face been veiled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Anarchy assumed her attributes;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till every lawless soldier who assailed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Trod on the trembling Senate's slavish mutes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or raised the venal voice of baser prostitutes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then turn we to her latest Tribune's name,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From her ten thousand tyrants turn to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Redeemer of dark centuries of shame—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The friend of Petrarch—hope of Italy—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rienzi! last of Romans!<a name="FNanchor_493" id="FNanchor_493"></a><a href="#Footnote_493" class="fnanchor">[493]</a> While the tree<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Freedom's withered trunk puts forth a leaf,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[415]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Even for thy tomb a garland let it be—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Forum's champion, and the people's chief—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her new-born Numa thou—with reign, alas! too brief.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_CXV" name="C4_CXV"></a>CXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Egeria! sweet creation of some heart <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_27">[27.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which found no mortal resting-place so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As thine ideal breast; whate'er thou art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or wert,—a young Aurora of the air,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The nympholepsy<a name="FNanchor_494" id="FNanchor_494"></a><a href="#Footnote_494" class="fnanchor">[494]</a> of some fond despair—<a name="FNanchor_OL" id="FNanchor_OL"></a><a href="#Footnote_OL" class="fnanchor">[ol]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or—it might be—a Beauty of the earth,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[416]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Who found a more than common Votary there<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too much adoring—whatsoe'er thy birth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou wert a beautiful Thought, and softly bodied forth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The mosses of thy Fountain<a name="FNanchor_495" id="FNanchor_495"></a><a href="#Footnote_495" class="fnanchor">[495]</a> still are sprinkled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With thine Elysian water-drops; the face<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[417]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of thy cave-guarded Spring, with years unwrinkled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reflects the meek-eyed Genius of the place,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose green, wild margin now no more erase<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Art's works; nor must the delicate waters sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Prisoned in marble—bubbling from the base<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the cleft statue, with a gentle leap<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rill runs o'er—and round, fern, flowers, and ivy, creep<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Fantastically tangled: the green hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are clothed with early blossoms—through the grass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The quick-eyed lizard rustles—and the bills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of summer-birds sing welcome as ye pass;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowers fresh in hue, and many in their class,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Implore the pausing step, and with their dyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dance in the soft breeze in a fairy mass;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The sweetness of the Violet's deep blue eyes,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Kissed by the breath of heaven, seems coloured by its skies.<a name="FNanchor_496" id="FNanchor_496"></a><a href="#Footnote_496" class="fnanchor">[496]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[418]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here didst thou dwell, in this enchanted cover,<a name="FNanchor_497" id="FNanchor_497"></a><a href="#Footnote_497" class="fnanchor">[497]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Egeria! thy all heavenly bosom beating<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For the far footsteps of thy mortal lover;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The purple Midnight veiled that mystic meeting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With her most starry canopy<a name="FNanchor_498" id="FNanchor_498"></a><a href="#Footnote_498" class="fnanchor">[498]</a>—and seating<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thyself by thine adorer, what befel?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This cave was surely shaped out for the greeting<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of an enamoured Goddess, and the cell<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Haunted by holy Love—the earliest Oracle!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And didst thou not, thy breast to his replying,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blend a celestial with a human heart;<a name="FNanchor_OM" id="FNanchor_OM"></a><a href="#Footnote_OM" class="fnanchor">[om]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Love, which dies as it was born, in sighing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Share with immortal transports? could thine art<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Make them indeed immortal, and impart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The purity of Heaven to earthly joys,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Expel the venom and not blunt the dart—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dull satiety which all destroys—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And root from out the soul the deadly weed which cloys?<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[419]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Alas! our young affections run to waste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or water but the desert! whence arise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But weeds of dark luxuriance, tares of haste,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rank at the core, though tempting to the eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Flowers whose wild odours breathe but agonies,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trees whose gums are poison; such the plants<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which spring beneath her steps as Passion flies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O'er the World's wilderness, and vainly pants<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For some celestial fruit forbidden to our wants.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Love! no habitant of earth thou art—<a name="FNanchor_ON" id="FNanchor_ON"></a><a href="#Footnote_ON" class="fnanchor">[on]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">An unseen Seraph, we believe in thee,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A faith whose martyrs are the broken heart,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But never yet hath seen, nor e'er shall see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The naked eye, thy form, as it should be;<a name="FNanchor_499" id="FNanchor_499"></a><a href="#Footnote_499" class="fnanchor">[499]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mind hath made thee, as it peopled Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Even with its own desiring phantasy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And to a thought such shape and image given,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As haunts the unquenched soul—parched—wearied—wrung—and riven.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[420]</a></span>CXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of its own beauty is the mind diseased,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And fevers into false creation:—where,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are the forms the sculptor's soul hath seized?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In him alone. Can Nature show so fair?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where are the charms and virtues which we dare<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Conceive in boyhood and pursue as men,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The unreached Paradise of our despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which o'er-informs<a name="FNanchor_500" id="FNanchor_500"></a><a href="#Footnote_500" class="fnanchor">[500]</a> the pencil and the pen,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And overpowers the page where it would bloom again?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Who loves, raves<a name="FNanchor_501" id="FNanchor_501"></a><a href="#Footnote_501" class="fnanchor">[501]</a>—'tis youth's frenzy—but the cure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is bitterer still, as charm by charm unwinds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which robed our idols, and we see too sure<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nor Worth nor Beauty dwells from out the mind's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ideal shape of such; yet still it binds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fatal spell, and still it draws us on,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reaping the whirlwind from the oft-sown winds;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stubborn heart, its alchemy begun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems ever near the prize—wealthiest when most undone.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[421]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We wither from our youth, we gasp away—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Sick—sick; unfound the boon—unslaked the thirst,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though to the last, in verge of our decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some phantom lures, such as we sought at first—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But all too late,—so are we doubly curst.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love, Fame, Ambition, Avarice—'tis the same,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Each idle—and all ill—and none the worst—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all are meteors with a different name,<a name="FNanchor_OO" id="FNanchor_OO"></a><a href="#Footnote_OO" class="fnanchor">[oo]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Death the sable smoke where vanishes the flame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Few—none—find what they love or could have loved,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though accident, blind contact, and the strong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Necessity of loving, have removed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Antipathies—but to recur, ere long,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Envenomed with irrevocable wrong;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Circumstance, that unspiritual God<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Miscreator, makes and helps along<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our coming evils with a crutch-like rod,<a name="FNanchor_502" id="FNanchor_502"></a><a href="#Footnote_502" class="fnanchor">[502]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Whose touch turns Hope to dust,—the dust we all have trod.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[422]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Our life is a false nature—'tis not in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The harmony of things,—this hard decree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This uneradicable taint of Sin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This boundless Upas, this all-blasting tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose root is Earth—whose leaves and branches be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The skies which rain their plagues on men like dew—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Disease, death, bondage—all the woes we see,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And worse, the woes we see not—which throb through<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The immedicable soul,<a name="FNanchor_503" id="FNanchor_503"></a><a href="#Footnote_503" class="fnanchor">[503]</a> with heart-aches ever new.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Yet let us ponder boldly—'tis a base<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Abandonment of reason<a name="FNanchor_504" id="FNanchor_504"></a><a href="#Footnote_504" class="fnanchor">[504]</a> to resign<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[423]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Our right of thought—our last and only place<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of refuge; this, at least, shall still be mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though from our birth the Faculty divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is chained and tortured—cabined, cribbed, confined,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bred in darkness,<a name="FNanchor_505" id="FNanchor_505"></a><a href="#Footnote_505" class="fnanchor">[505]</a> lest the Truth should shine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Too brightly on the unpreparéd mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The beam pours in—for Time and Skill will couch the blind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Arches on arches!<a name="FNanchor_506" id="FNanchor_506"></a><a href="#Footnote_506" class="fnanchor">[506]</a> as it were that Rome,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Collecting the chief trophies of her line,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[424]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Would build up all her triumphs in one dome,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her Coliseum stands;<a name="FNanchor_507" id="FNanchor_507"></a><a href="#Footnote_507" class="fnanchor">[507]</a> the moonbeams shine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As 'twere its natural torches—for divine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Should be the light which streams here,—to illume<br /></span> +<span class="i2">This long-explored but still exhaustless mine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Contemplation; and the azure gloom<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of an Italian night, where the deep skies assume<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[425]</a></span>CXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hues which have words, and speak to ye of Heaven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Floats o'er this vast and wondrous monument,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shadows forth its glory. There is given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unto the things of earth, which Time hath bent,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Spirit's feeling, and where he hath leant<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His hand, but broke his scythe, there is a power<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And magic in the ruined battlement,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For which the Palace of the present hour<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Must yield its pomp, and wait till Ages are its dower.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh, Time! the Beautifier of the dead,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Adorner of the ruin<a name="FNanchor_508" id="FNanchor_508"></a><a href="#Footnote_508" class="fnanchor">[508]</a>—Comforter<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And only Healer when the heart hath bled;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time! the Corrector where our judgments err,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The test of Truth, Love—sole philosopher,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For all beside are sophists—from thy thrift,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[426]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Which never loses though it doth defer—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time, the Avenger! unto thee I lift<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My hands, and eyes, and heart, and crave of thee a gift:<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Amidst this wreck, where thou hast made a shrine<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And temple more divinely desolate—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Among thy mightier offerings here are mine,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ruins of years—though few, yet full of fate:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">If thou hast ever seen me too elate,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hear me not; but if calmly I have borne<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good, and reserved my pride against the hate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which shall not whelm me, let me not have worn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This iron in my soul in vain—shall <i>they</i> not mourn?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_CXXXII" name="C4_CXXXII"></a>CXXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And Thou, who never yet of human wrong<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Left the unbalanced scale, great Nemesis!<a name="FNanchor_509" id="FNanchor_509"></a><a href="#Footnote_509" class="fnanchor">[509]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_28">[28.H.]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[427]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Here, where the ancient paid thee homage long—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thou, who didst call the Furies from the abyss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And round Orestes bade them howl and hiss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For that unnatural retribution—just,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Had it but been from hands less near—in this<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy former realm, I call thee from the dust!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dost thou not hear my heart?—Awake! thou shalt, and must.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It is not that I may not have incurred,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For my ancestral faults or mine, the wound<a name="FNanchor_OP" id="FNanchor_OP"></a><a href="#Footnote_OP" class="fnanchor">[op]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">I bleed withal; and, had it been conferred<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a just weapon, it had flowed unbound;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now my blood shall not sink in the ground—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thee I do devote it—<i>Thou</i> shalt take<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The vengeance, which shall yet be sought and found—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which if <i>I</i> have not taken for the sake—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But let that pass—I sleep—but Thou shalt yet awake.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[428]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if my voice break forth, 'tis not that now<a name="FNanchor_OQ" id="FNanchor_OQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_OQ" class="fnanchor">[oq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shrink from what is suffered: let him speak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who hath beheld decline upon my brow,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or seen my mind's convulsion leave it weak;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in this page a record will I seek.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in the air shall these my words disperse,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though I be ashes; a far hour shall wreak<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deep prophetic fulness of this verse,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[429]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">That curse shall be Forgiveness.—Have I not—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hear me, my mother Earth! behold it, Heaven!—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have I not had to wrestle with my lot?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have I not suffered things to be forgiven?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have I not had my brain seared, my heart riven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Hopes sapped, name blighted, Life's life lied away?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And only not to desperation driven,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Because not altogether of such clay<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As rots into the souls of those whom I survey.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXXVI.<a name="FNanchor_OR" id="FNanchor_OR"></a><a href="#Footnote_OR" class="fnanchor">[or]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">From mighty wrongs to petty perfidy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have I not seen what human things could do?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the loud roar of foaming calumny<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the small whisper of the as paltry few—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And subtler venom of the reptile crew,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Janus glance<a name="FNanchor_510" id="FNanchor_510"></a><a href="#Footnote_510" class="fnanchor">[510]</a> of whose significant eye,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[430]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Learning to lie with silence, would <i>seem</i> true—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And without utterance, save the shrug or sigh,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deal round to happy fools its speechless obloquy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I have lived, and have not lived in vain:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And my frame perish even in conquering pain;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But there is that within me which shall tire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Torture and Time, and breathe when I expire;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Something unearthly, which they deem not of,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the remembered tone of a mute lyre,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall on their softened spirits sink, and move<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In hearts all rocky now the late remorse of Love.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The seal is set.—Now welcome, thou dread Power!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That we become a part of what has been,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And grow upon the spot—all-seeing but unseen.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[431]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CXXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And here the buzz of eager nations ran,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In murmured pity, or loud-roared applause,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As man was slaughtered by his fellow man.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wherefore slaughtered? wherefore, but because<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the imperial pleasure.—Wherefore not?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What matters where we fall to fill the maws<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of worms—on battle-plains or listed spot?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Both are but theatres—where the chief actors rot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I see before me the Gladiator<a name="FNanchor_511" id="FNanchor_511"></a><a href="#Footnote_511" class="fnanchor">[511]</a> lie:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He leans upon his hand—his manly brow<a name="FNanchor_OS" id="FNanchor_OS"></a><a href="#Footnote_OS" class="fnanchor">[os]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[432]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Consents to death, but conquers agony,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And his drooped head sinks gradually low—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,<a name="FNanchor_OT" id="FNanchor_OT"></a><a href="#Footnote_OT" class="fnanchor">[ot]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now<a name="FNanchor_OU" id="FNanchor_OU"></a><a href="#Footnote_OU" class="fnanchor">[ou]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The arena swims around him—he is gone,<a name="FNanchor_OV" id="FNanchor_OV"></a><a href="#Footnote_OV" class="fnanchor">[ov]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hailed the wretch who won.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_CXLI" name="C4_CXLI"></a>CXLI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">He heard it, but he heeded not—his eyes<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were with his heart—and that was far away;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[433]</a></span> +<span class="i2">He recked not of the life he lost nor prize,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But where his rude hut by the Danube lay—<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>There</i> were his young barbarians all at play,<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>There</i> was their Dacian mother—he, their sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Butchered to make a Roman holiday—<a name="FNanchor_OW" id="FNanchor_OW"></a><a href="#Footnote_OW" class="fnanchor">[ow]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_29">[29.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">All this rushed with his blood—Shall he expire<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unavenged?—Arise! ye Goths, and glut your ire!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_CXLII" name="C4_CXLII"></a>CXLII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But here, where Murder breathed her bloody steam;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And here, where buzzing nations choked the ways,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And roared or murmured like a mountain stream<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dashing or winding as its torrent strays;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Here, where the Roman million's blame or praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Was Death or Life—the playthings of a crowd—<a name="FNanchor_OX" id="FNanchor_OX"></a><a href="#Footnote_OX" class="fnanchor">[ox]</a> +<a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_30">[30.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">My voice sounds much—and fall the stars' faint rays<a name="FNanchor_OY" id="FNanchor_OY"></a><a href="#Footnote_OY" class="fnanchor">[oy]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">On the arena void—seats crushed—walls bowed—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangely loud.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A Ruin—yet what Ruin! from its mass<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Walls—palaces—half-cities, have been reared;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass,<a name="FNanchor_OZ" id="FNanchor_OZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_OZ" class="fnanchor">[oz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And marvel where the spoil could have appeared.<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[434]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Hath it indeed been plundered, or but cleared?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Alas! developed, opens the decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the colossal fabric's form is neared:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It will not bear the brightness of the day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which streams too much on all—years—man—have reft away.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But when the rising moon begins to climb<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its topmost arch, and gently pauses there—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the stars twinkle through the loops of Time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the low night-breeze waves along the air<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The garland-forest, which the gray walls wear,<a name="FNanchor_PA" id="FNanchor_PA"></a><a href="#Footnote_PA" class="fnanchor">[pa]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like laurels on the bald first Cæsar's head—<a name="FNanchor_512" id="FNanchor_512"></a><a href="#Footnote_512" class="fnanchor">[512]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">When the light shines serene but doth not glare—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Then in this magic circle raise the dead;—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heroes have trod this spot—'tis on their dust ye tread.<a name="FNanchor_PB" id="FNanchor_PB"></a><a href="#Footnote_PB" class="fnanchor">[pb]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand:<a name="FNanchor_513" id="FNanchor_513"></a><a href="#Footnote_513" class="fnanchor">[513]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[435]</a></span> +<span class="i2">And when Rome falls—the World." From our own land<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thus spake the pilgrims o'er this mighty wall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In Saxon times, which we are wont to call<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ancient; and these three mortal things are still<br /></span> +<span class="i2">On their foundations, and unaltered all—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rome and her Ruin past Redemption's skill—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The World—the same wide den—of thieves, or what ye will.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime—<a name="FNanchor_514" id="FNanchor_514"></a><a href="#Footnote_514" class="fnanchor">[514]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shrine of all saints and temple of all Gods,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[436]</a></span> +<span class="i2">From Jove to Jesus—spared and blest by Time—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Arch—empire—each thing round thee—and Man plods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His way through thorns to ashes—glorious Dome!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shalt thou not last? Time's scythe and Tyrants' rods<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shiver upon thee—sanctuary and home<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Art and Piety—Pantheon!—pride of Rome!<a name="FNanchor_PC" id="FNanchor_PC"></a><a href="#Footnote_PC" class="fnanchor">[pc]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Despoiled yet perfect! with thy circle spreads<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A holiness appealing to all hearts;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To Art a model—and to him who treads<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[437]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Rome for the sake of ages, Glory sheds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her light through thy sole aperture; to those<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who worship, here are altars for their beads—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And they who feel for Genius may repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their eyes on honoured forms, whose busts around them close.<a name="FNanchor_515" id="FNanchor_515"></a><a href="#Footnote_515" class="fnanchor">[515]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a dungeon, in whose dim drear light<a name="FNanchor_516" id="FNanchor_516"></a><a href="#Footnote_516" class="fnanchor">[516]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">What do I gaze on? Nothing—Look again!<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[438]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Two forms are slowly shadowed on my sight—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Two insulated phantoms of the brain:<a name="FNanchor_PD" id="FNanchor_PD"></a><a href="#Footnote_PD" class="fnanchor">[pd]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is not so—I see them full and plain—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An old man, and a female young and fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fresh as a nursing mother, in whose vein<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The blood is nectar:—but what doth she there,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With her unmantled neck, and bosom white and bare?<a name="FNanchor_PE" id="FNanchor_PE"></a><a href="#Footnote_PE" class="fnanchor">[pe]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CXLIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Full swells the deep pure fountain of young life,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where <i>on</i> the heart and <i>from</i> the heart we took<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our first and sweetest nurture—when the wife,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Blest into mother, in the innocent look,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or even the piping cry of lips that brook<a name="FNanchor_PF" id="FNanchor_PF"></a><a href="#Footnote_PF" class="fnanchor">[pf]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">No pain and small suspense, a joy perceives<a name="FNanchor_PG" id="FNanchor_PG"></a><a href="#Footnote_PG" class="fnanchor">[pg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Man knows not—when from out its cradled nook<br /></span> +<span class="i2">She sees her little bud put forth its leaves—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What may the fruit be yet?—I know not—Cain was Eve's.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CL.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But here Youth offers to Old Age the food,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The milk of his own gift: it is her Sire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To whom she renders back the debt of blood<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Born with her birth:—No—he shall not expire<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[439]</a></span> +<span class="i2">While in those warm and lovely veins the fire<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of health and holy feeling can provide<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Great Nature's Nile, whose deep stream rises higher<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Than Egypt's river:—from that gentle side<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drink—drink, and live—Old Man! Heaven's realm holds no such tide.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The starry fable of the Milky Way<a name="FNanchor_517" id="FNanchor_517"></a><a href="#Footnote_517" class="fnanchor">[517]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has not thy story's purity; it is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A constellation of a sweeter ray,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And sacred Nature triumphs more in this<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Reverse of her decree, than in the abyss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Where sparkle distant worlds:—Oh, holiest Nurse!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No drop of that clear stream its way shall miss<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To thy Sire's heart, replenishing its source<a name="FNanchor_PH" id="FNanchor_PH"></a><a href="#Footnote_PH" class="fnanchor">[ph]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">With life, as our freed souls rejoin the Universe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Turn to the Mole<a name="FNanchor_518" id="FNanchor_518"></a><a href="#Footnote_518" class="fnanchor">[518]</a> which Hadrian reared on high,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Imperial mimic of old Egypt's piles,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[440]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Colossal copyist of deformity—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose travelled phantasy from the far Nile's<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Enormous model, doomed the artist's toils<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To build for Giants, and for his vain earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His shrunken ashes, raise this Dome: How smiles<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gazer's eye with philosophic mirth,<a name="FNanchor_PI" id="FNanchor_PI"></a><a href="#Footnote_PI" class="fnanchor">[pi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">To view the huge design which sprung from such a birth!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLIII.<a name="FNanchor_519" id="FNanchor_519"></a><a href="#Footnote_519" class="fnanchor">[519]</a></h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But lo! the Dome—the vast and wondrous Dome,<a name="FNanchor_PJ" id="FNanchor_PJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_PJ" class="fnanchor">[pj]</a><a name="FNanchor_520" id="FNanchor_520"></a><a href="#Footnote_520" class="fnanchor">[520]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">To which Diana's marvel was a cell—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_441" id="Page_441">[441]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Christ's mighty shrine above His martyr's tomb!<a name="FNanchor_PK" id="FNanchor_PK"></a><a href="#Footnote_PK" class="fnanchor">[pk]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">I have beheld the Ephesian's miracle—<a name="FNanchor_521" id="FNanchor_521"></a><a href="#Footnote_521" class="fnanchor">[521]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its columns strew the wilderness, and dwell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The hyæna and the jackal in their shade;<a name="FNanchor_522" id="FNanchor_522"></a><a href="#Footnote_522" class="fnanchor">[522]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_442" id="Page_442">[442]</a></span> +<span class="i2">I have beheld Sophia's bright roofs swell<a name="FNanchor_PL" id="FNanchor_PL"></a><a href="#Footnote_PL" class="fnanchor">[pl]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their glittering mass i' the Sun, and have surveyed<a name="FNanchor_PM" id="FNanchor_PM"></a><a href="#Footnote_PM" class="fnanchor">[pm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its sanctuary the while the usurping Moslem prayed;<a name="FNanchor_523" id="FNanchor_523"></a><a href="#Footnote_523" class="fnanchor">[523]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But thou, of temples old, or altars new,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Standest alone—with nothing like to thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Worthiest of God, the Holy and the True!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Since Zion's desolation, when that He<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Forsook his former city, what could be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of earthly structures, in His honour piled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Power—Glory—Strength—and Beauty all are aisled<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In this eternal Ark of worship undefiled.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Enter: its grandeur overwhelms thee not;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And why? it is not lessened—but thy mind,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Expanded by the Genius of the spot,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has grown colossal, and can only find<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A fit<a name="FNanchor_524" id="FNanchor_524"></a><a href="#Footnote_524" class="fnanchor">[524]</a> abode wherein appear enshrined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy hopes of Immortality—and thou<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_443" id="Page_443">[443]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Shalt one day, if found worthy, so defined<br /></span> +<span class="i2">See thy God face to face, as thou dost now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His Holy of Holies—nor be blasted by his brow.<a name="FNanchor_PN" id="FNanchor_PN"></a><a href="#Footnote_PN" class="fnanchor">[pn]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou movest—but increasing with the advance,<a name="FNanchor_525" id="FNanchor_525"></a><a href="#Footnote_525" class="fnanchor">[525]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Like climbing some great Alp, which still doth rise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Deceived by its gigantic elegance—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Vastness which grows, but grows to harmonize—<a name="FNanchor_PO" id="FNanchor_PO"></a><a href="#Footnote_PO" class="fnanchor">[po]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">All musical in its immensities;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rich marbles, richer painting—shrines where flame<a name="FNanchor_PP" id="FNanchor_PP"></a><a href="#Footnote_PP" class="fnanchor">[pp]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The lamps of gold—and haughty dome which vies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In air with Earth's chief structures, though their frame<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sits on the firm-set ground—and this the clouds must claim.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_444" id="Page_444">[444]</a></span>CLVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou seest not all—but piecemeal thou must break,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To separate contemplation, the great whole;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And as the Ocean many bays will make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That ask the eye—so here condense thy soul<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To more immediate objects, and control<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy thoughts until thy mind hath got by heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its eloquent proportions, and unroll<a name="FNanchor_PQ" id="FNanchor_PQ"></a><a href="#Footnote_PQ" class="fnanchor">[pq]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">In mighty graduations, part by part,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Glory which at once upon thee did not dart,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Not by its fault—but thine: Our outward sense<a name="FNanchor_PR" id="FNanchor_PR"></a><a href="#Footnote_PR" class="fnanchor">[pr]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is but of gradual grasp—and as it is<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That what we have of feeling most intense<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outstrips our faint expression; even so this<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Outshining and o'erwhelming edifice<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Defies at first our Nature's littleness,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Our Spirits to the size of that they contemplate.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Then pause, and be enlightened; there is more<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In such a survey than the sating gaze<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_445" id="Page_445">[445]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Of wonder pleased, or awe which would adore<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The worship of the place, or the mere praise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Art and its great Masters, who could raise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">What former time, nor skill, nor thought could plan:<a name="FNanchor_PS" id="FNanchor_PS"></a><a href="#Footnote_PS" class="fnanchor">[ps]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fountain of Sublimity displays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its depth, and thence may draw the mind of Man<a name="FNanchor_PT" id="FNanchor_PT"></a><a href="#Footnote_PT" class="fnanchor">[pt]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">Its golden sands, and learn what great Conceptions can.<a name="FNanchor_PU" id="FNanchor_PU"></a><a href="#Footnote_PU" class="fnanchor">[pu]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or, turning to the Vatican, go see<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Laocoön's<a name="FNanchor_526" id="FNanchor_526"></a><a href="#Footnote_526" class="fnanchor">[526]</a> torture dignifying pain—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_446" id="Page_446">[446]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A Father's love and Mortal's agony<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With an Immortal's patience blending:—Vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The struggle—vain, against the coiling strain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And gripe, and deepening of the dragon's grasp,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Old Man's clench; the long envenomed chain<a name="FNanchor_PV" id="FNanchor_PV"></a><a href="#Footnote_PV" class="fnanchor">[pv]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rivets the living links,—the enormous Asp<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Enforces pang on pang, and stifles gasp on gasp.<a name="FNanchor_PW" id="FNanchor_PW"></a><a href="#Footnote_PW" class="fnanchor">[pw]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Or view the Lord of the unerring bow,<a name="FNanchor_527" id="FNanchor_527"></a><a href="#Footnote_527" class="fnanchor">[527]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The God of Life, and Poesy, and Light—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_447" id="Page_447">[447]</a></span> +<span class="i2">The Sun in human limbs arrayed, and brow<br /></span> +<span class="i2">All radiant from his triumph in the fight;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The shaft hath just been shot—the arrow bright<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With an Immortal's vengeance—in his eye<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And nostril beautiful Disdain, and Might<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Majesty, flash their full lightnings by,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Developing in that one glance the Deity.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But in his delicate form—a dream of Love,<a name="FNanchor_528" id="FNanchor_528"></a><a href="#Footnote_528" class="fnanchor">[528]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shaped by some solitary Nymph, whose breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Longed for a deathless lover from above,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And maddened in that vision<a name="FNanchor_529" id="FNanchor_529"></a><a href="#Footnote_529" class="fnanchor">[529]</a>—are exprest<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_448" id="Page_448">[448]</a></span> +<span class="i2">All that ideal Beauty ever blessed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mind with in its most unearthly mood,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When each Conception was a heavenly Guest—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A ray of Immortality—and stood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Starlike, around, until they gathered to a God!<a name="FNanchor_PX" id="FNanchor_PX"></a><a href="#Footnote_PX" class="fnanchor">[px]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And if it be Prometheus stole from Heaven<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fire which we endure<a name="FNanchor_530" id="FNanchor_530"></a><a href="#Footnote_530" class="fnanchor">[530]</a>—it was repaid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By him to whom the energy was given<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which this poetic marble hath arrayed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With an eternal Glory—which, if made<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By human hands, is not of human thought—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Time himself hath hallowed it, nor laid<br /></span> +<span class="i2">One ringlet in the dust—nor hath it caught<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A tinge of years, but breathes the flame with which 'twas wrought.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But where is he, the Pilgrim of my Song,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Being who upheld it through the past?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Methinks he cometh late and tarries long.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is no more—these breathings are his last—<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_449" id="Page_449">[449]</a></span> +<span class="i2">His wanderings done—his visions ebbing fast,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he himself as nothing:—if he was<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Aught but a phantasy, and could be classed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With forms which live and suffer—let that pass—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His shadow fades away into Destruction's mass,<a name="FNanchor_PY" id="FNanchor_PY"></a><a href="#Footnote_PY" class="fnanchor">[py]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Which gathers shadow—substance—life, and all<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That we inherit in its mortal shroud—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And spreads the dim and universal pall<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through which all things grow phantoms; and the cloud<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Between us sinks and all which ever glowed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Till Glory's self is twilight, and displays<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A melancholy halo scarce allowed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To hover on the verge of darkness—rays<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sadder than saddest night, for they distract the gaze,<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And send us prying into the abyss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To gather what we shall be when the frame<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shall be resolved to something less than this—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its wretched essence; and to dream of fame,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And wipe the dust from off the idle name<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We never more shall hear,—but never more,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_450" id="Page_450">[450]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Oh, happier thought! can we be made the same:—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">It is enough in sooth that <i>once</i> we bore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">These fardels<a name="FNanchor_531" id="FNanchor_531"></a><a href="#Footnote_531" class="fnanchor">[531]</a> of the heart—the heart whose sweat was gore.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hark! forth from the abyss a voice proceeds,<a name="FNanchor_532" id="FNanchor_532"></a><a href="#Footnote_532" class="fnanchor">[532]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A long low distant murmur of dread sound,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such as arises when a nation bleeds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With some deep and immedicable wound;—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Through storm and darkness yawns the rending ground—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The gulf is thick with phantoms, but the Chief<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Seems royal still, though with her head discrowned,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pale, but lovely, with maternal grief—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She clasps a babe, to whom her breast yields no relief.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_451" id="Page_451">[451]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CLXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Scion of Chiefs and Monarchs, where art thou?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Fond Hope of many nations, art thou dead?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Could not the Grave forget thee, and lay low<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some less majestic, less belovéd head?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Death hushed that pang for ever: with thee fled<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The present happiness and promised joy<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which filled the Imperial Isles so full it seemed to cloy.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Peasants bring forth in safety.—Can it be,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Oh thou that wert so happy, so adored!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Those who weep not for Kings shall weep for thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Freedom's heart, grown heavy, cease to hoard<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her many griefs for <i>One</i>; for she had poured<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her orisons for thee, and o'er thy head<a name="FNanchor_PZ" id="FNanchor_PZ"></a><a href="#Footnote_PZ" class="fnanchor">[pz]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beheld her Iris.—Thou, too, lonely Lord,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And desolate Consort—vainly wert thou wed!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The husband of a year! the father of the dead!<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_452" id="Page_452">[452]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CLXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Of sackcloth was thy wedding garment made;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy bridal's fruit is ashes<a name="FNanchor_533" id="FNanchor_533"></a><a href="#Footnote_533" class="fnanchor">[533]</a>: in the dust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fair-haired Daughter of the Isles is laid,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The love of millions! How we did entrust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Futurity to her! and, though it must<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Darken above our bones, yet fondly deemed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our children should obey her child, and blessed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Her and her hoped-for seed, whose promise seemed<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like stars to shepherd's eyes:—'twas but a meteor beamed.<a name="FNanchor_534" id="FNanchor_534"></a><a href="#Footnote_534" class="fnanchor">[534]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Woe unto us—not her—for she sleeps well:<a name="FNanchor_535" id="FNanchor_535"></a><a href="#Footnote_535" class="fnanchor">[535]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The fickle reek of popular breath,<a name="FNanchor_536" id="FNanchor_536"></a><a href="#Footnote_536" class="fnanchor">[536]</a> the tongue<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of hollow counsel, the false oracle,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which from the birth of Monarchy hath rung<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_453" id="Page_453">[453]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Its knell in princely ears, till the o'erstung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Nations have armed in madness—the strange fate<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which tumbles mightiest sovereigns,<a name="FNanchor_537" id="FNanchor_537"></a><a href="#Footnote_537" class="fnanchor">[537]</a> and hath flung<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Against their blind omnipotence a weight<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Within the opposing scale, which crushes soon or late,—<a name="FNanchor_QA" id="FNanchor_QA"></a><a href="#Footnote_QA" class="fnanchor">[qa]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">These might have been her destiny—but no—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our hearts deny it: and so young, so fair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Good without effort, great without a foe;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But now a Bride and Mother—and now <i>there!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2">How many ties did that stern moment tear!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From thy Sire's to his humblest subject's breast<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is linked the electric chain of that despair,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Whose shock was as an Earthquake's,<a name="FNanchor_538" id="FNanchor_538"></a><a href="#Footnote_538" class="fnanchor">[538]</a> and opprest<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The land which loved thee so that none could love thee best.<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_454" id="Page_454">[454]</a></span></p> + +<h4>CLXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Lo, Nemi!<a name="FNanchor_539" id="FNanchor_539"></a><a href="#Footnote_539" class="fnanchor">[539]</a> navelled in the woody hills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">So far, that the uprooting Wind which tears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The oak from his foundation, and which spills<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Ocean o'er its boundary, and bears<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Its foam against the skies, reluctant spares<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The oval mirror of thy glassy lake;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And calm as cherished hate, its surface wears<a name="FNanchor_QB" id="FNanchor_QB"></a><a href="#Footnote_QB" class="fnanchor">[qb]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">A deep cold settled aspect nought can shake,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="C4_CLXXIV" name="C4_CLXXIV"></a>CLXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And near, Albano's scarce divided waves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Shine from a sister valley;—and afar <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_31">[31.H.]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Tiber winds, and the broad Ocean laves<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Latian coast where sprung the Epic war,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">"Arms and the Man," whose re-ascending star<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rose o'er an empire:—but beneath thy right<a name="FNanchor_540" id="FNanchor_540"></a><a href="#Footnote_540" class="fnanchor">[540]</a><br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_455" id="Page_455">[455]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Tully reposed from Rome;—and where yon bar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of girdling mountains intercepts the sight<a name="FNanchor_QC" id="FNanchor_QC"></a><a href="#Footnote_QC" class="fnanchor">[qc]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Sabine farm was tilled, the weary Bard's delight.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But I forget.—My Pilgrim's shrine is won,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he and I must part,—so let it be,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His task and mine alike are nearly done;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet once more let us look upon the Sea;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The Midland Ocean breaks on him and me,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And from the Alban Mount we now behold<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our friend of youth, that Ocean, which when we<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Beheld it last by Calpe's rock<a name="FNanchor_541" id="FNanchor_541"></a><a href="#Footnote_541" class="fnanchor">[541]</a> unfold<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Those waves, we followed on till the dark Euxine rolled<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_456" id="Page_456">[456]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="C4_CLXXVI" name="C4_CLXXVI"></a>CLXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Upon the blue Symplegades: <a class="fnanchor" href="#en_4_32">[32.H.]</a> long years—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Long, though not very many—since have done<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their work on both; some suffering and some tears<a name="FNanchor_QD" id="FNanchor_QD"></a><a href="#Footnote_QD" class="fnanchor">[qd]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Have left us nearly where we had begun:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Yet not in vain our mortal race hath run—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">We have had our reward—and it is here,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That we can yet feel gladdened by the Sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And reap from Earth—Sea—joy almost as dear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As if there were no Man to trouble what is clear.<a name="FNanchor_542" id="FNanchor_542"></a><a href="#Footnote_542" class="fnanchor">[542]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXVII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! that the Desert were my dwelling-place,<a name="FNanchor_543" id="FNanchor_543"></a><a href="#Footnote_543" class="fnanchor">[543]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">With one fair Spirit for my minister,<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_457" id="Page_457">[457]</a></span> +<span class="i2">That I might all forget the human race,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And, hating no one, love but only her!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye elements!—in whose ennobling stir<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I feel myself exalted—Can ye not<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Accord me such a Being? Do I err<br /></span> +<span class="i2">In deeming such inhabit many a spot?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though with them to converse can rarely be our lot.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXVIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is a rapture on the lonely shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">There is society, where none intrudes,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">By the deep Sea, and Music in its roar:<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I love not Man the less, but Nature more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From these our interviews, in which I steal<br /></span> +<span class="i2">From all I may be, or have been before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To mingle with the Universe,<a name="FNanchor_544" id="FNanchor_544"></a><a href="#Footnote_544" class="fnanchor">[544]</a> and feel<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What I can ne'er express—yet can not all conceal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXIX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean—roll!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain;<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_458" id="Page_458">[458]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Man marks the earth with ruin—his control<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Stops with the shore;—upon the watery plain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Without a grave—unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.<a name="FNanchor_QE" id="FNanchor_QE"></a><a href="#Footnote_QE" class="fnanchor">[qe]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXX.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">His steps are not upon thy paths,—thy fields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are not a spoil for him,—thou dost arise<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For Earth's destruction thou dost all despise,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies—<a name="FNanchor_545" id="FNanchor_545"></a><a href="#Footnote_545" class="fnanchor">[545]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And howling, to his Gods, where haply lies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His petty hope in some near port or bay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And dashest him again to Earth:—there let him lay.<a name="FNanchor_QF" id="FNanchor_QF"></a><a href="#Footnote_QF" class="fnanchor">[qf]</a><a name="FNanchor_546" id="FNanchor_546"></a><a href="#Footnote_546" class="fnanchor">[546]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_459" id="Page_459">[459]</a></span>CLXXXI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The armaments which thunderstrike the walls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Monarchs tremble in their Capitals,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The oak Leviathans,<a name="FNanchor_547" id="FNanchor_547"></a><a href="#Footnote_547" class="fnanchor">[547]</a> whose huge ribs make<a name="FNanchor_QG" id="FNanchor_QG"></a><a href="#Footnote_QG" class="fnanchor">[qg]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Their clay creator the vain title take<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Lord of thee, and Arbiter of War—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Alike the Armada's pride or spoils of Trafalgar.<a name="FNanchor_548" id="FNanchor_548"></a><a href="#Footnote_548" class="fnanchor">[548]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_460" id="Page_460">[460]</a></span>CLXXXII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Assyria—Greece—Rome—Carthage—what are they?<a name="FNanchor_549" id="FNanchor_549"></a><a href="#Footnote_549" class="fnanchor">[549]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Thy waters washed<a name="FNanchor_550" id="FNanchor_550"></a><a href="#Footnote_550" class="fnanchor">[550]</a> them power while they were free,<a name="FNanchor_QH" id="FNanchor_QH"></a><a href="#Footnote_QH" class="fnanchor">[qh]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">And many a tyrant since; their shores obey<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has dried up realms to deserts:—not so thou,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play,<a name="FNanchor_QI" id="FNanchor_QI"></a><a href="#Footnote_QI" class="fnanchor">[qi]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Such as Creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXXIII.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Calm or convulsed—in breeze, or gale, or storm—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Icing the Pole, or in the torrid clime<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_461" id="Page_461">[461]</a></span> +<span class="i2">Dark-heaving—boundless, endless, and sublime—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The image of Eternity-the throne<a name="FNanchor_QJ" id="FNanchor_QJ"></a><a href="#Footnote_QJ" class="fnanchor">[qj]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime<a name="FNanchor_551" id="FNanchor_551"></a><a href="#Footnote_551" class="fnanchor">[551]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The monsters of the deep are made—each Zone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Obeys thee—thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXXIV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Borne, like thy bubbles, onward: from a boy<a name="FNanchor_552" id="FNanchor_552"></a><a href="#Footnote_552" class="fnanchor">[552]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">I wantoned with thy breakers—they to me<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Were a delight; and if the freshening sea<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Made them a terror—'twas a pleasing fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For I was as it were a Child of thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And trusted to thy billows far and near,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And laid my hand upon thy mane—as I do here.<a name="FNanchor_553" id="FNanchor_553"></a><a href="#Footnote_553" class="fnanchor">[553]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_462" id="Page_462">[462]</a></span>CLXXXV.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">My task is done—my song hath ceased—my theme<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Has died into an echo; it is fit<a name="FNanchor_QK" id="FNanchor_QK"></a><a href="#Footnote_QK" class="fnanchor">[qk]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The spell should break of this protracted dream.<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The torch shall be extinguished which hath lit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">My midnight lamp—and what is writ, is writ,—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Would it were worthier! but I am not now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That which I have been—and my visions flit<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Less palpably before me—and the glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which in my Spirit dwelt is fluttering, faint, and low.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4>CLXXXVI.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A sound which makes us linger;—yet—farewell!<a name="FNanchor_QL" id="FNanchor_QL"></a><a href="#Footnote_QL" class="fnanchor">[ql]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Ye! who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene<a name="FNanchor_QM" id="FNanchor_QM"></a><a href="#Footnote_QM" class="fnanchor">[qm]</a><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which is his last—if in your memories dwell<br /></span><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_463" id="Page_463">[463]</a></span> +<span class="i2">A thought which once was his—if on ye swell<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A single recollection—not in vain<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He wore his sandal-shoon, and scallop-shell;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Farewell! with <i>him</i> alone may rest the pain,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">If such there were—with <i>you</i>, the Moral of his Strain.<a name="FNanchor_554" id="FNanchor_554"></a><a href="#Footnote_554" class="fnanchor">[554]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnotes"> +<h3>FOOTNOTES</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_363" id="Footnote_363"></a><a href="#FNanchor_363"><span class="label">[363]</span></a> +<a id="Note_319" name="Note_319">{319}</a> <i>MS. D.</i>, Byron's final fair copy, is in the possession +of the Lady Dorchester.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_364" id="Footnote_364"></a><a href="#FNanchor_364"><span class="label">[364]</span></a> <a id="Note_321" name="Note_321">{321}</a> [Compare Canto IV. stanza clxiv.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But where is he, the Pilgrim of my Song....<br /></span> +<span class="i2">He is no more—these breathings are his last."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_365" id="Footnote_365"></a><a href="#FNanchor_365"><span class="label">[365]</span></a> <a id="Note_322" name="Note_322">{322}</a> [His marriage. Compare the epigram, "On my +Wedding-Day," sent in a letter to Moore, January 2, 1820— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here's a happy new year!—but with reason<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I beg you'll permit me to say—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Wish me <i>many</i> returns of the <i>season</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But as <i>few</i> as you please of the <i>day</i>."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_366" id="Footnote_366"></a><a href="#FNanchor_366"><span class="label">[366]</span></a> <a id="Note_323" name="Note_323">{323}</a> [Some fancy me no Chinese, because I am formed more +like a man than a monster; and others wonder to find one born five +thousand miles from England, endued with common sense.... He must be +some Englishman in disguise."—<i>The Citizen of the World; or a Series of +Letters from a Chinese Philosopher at London, to his Friends in the +East</i>, 1762, Letter xxxiii.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_367" id="Footnote_367"></a><a href="#FNanchor_367"><span class="label">[367]</span></a> +[<i>Vide ante</i>, Introduction to Canto IV., <a href="#Page_315">p. 315</a>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_368" id="Footnote_368"></a><a href="#FNanchor_368"><span class="label">[368]</span></a> +<a id="Note_324" name="Note_324">{324}</a> [Antonio Canova, sculptor, 1757-1822; Vincenzo +Monti, 1754-1828; Ugo Foscolo, 1776-1827 (see <i>Life</i>, p. 456, etc.); +Ippolito Pindemonte, 1753-1828 (see Letter to Murray, June 4, 1817), +poets; Ennius Quirinus Visconti, 1751-1818, the valuer of the Elgin +marbles, archæologist; Giacomo Morelli, 1745-1819, bibliographer and +scholar (the architect Cosimo Morelli, born 1732, died in 1812); +Leopoldo Conte de Cicognara, 1767-1834, archæologist; the Contessa +Albrizzi, 1769?-1836, authoress of <i>Ritratti di Uomini Illustri</i> (see +<i>Life</i>, pp. 331, 413, etc.); Giuseppe Mezzofanti, 1774-1849, linguist; +Angelo Mai (cardinal), 1782-1854, philologist; Andreas Moustoxides, +1787-1860, a Greek archæologist, who wrote in Italian; Francesco +Aglietti (see <i>Life</i>, p. 378, etc.), 1757-1836; Andrea Vacca +Berlinghieri, 1772-1826 (see <i>Life</i>, p. 339). +</p><p> +For biographical essays on Monti, Foscolo, and Pindemonte, see "Essay on +the Present Literature of Italy" (Hobhouse's <i>Historical Illustrations +of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold</i>, 1818, pp. 347, <i>sq.</i>). See, too, +<i>Italian Literature</i>, by R. Garnett, C.B., LL.D., 1898, pp. 333-337, +337-341, 341-342.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_369" id="Footnote_369"></a><a href="#FNanchor_369"><span class="label">[369]</span></a> <a id="Note_325" name="Note_325">{325}</a> [Shelley (notes M. Darmesteter), in his preface to +the <i>Prometheus Unbound</i>, "emploie le mot sans demander pardon." "The +mass of capabilities remains at every period materially the same; the +circumstances which awaken it to action perpetually change." +"Capability" in the sense of "undeveloped faculty or property; a +condition physical or otherwise, capable of being converted or turned to +use" (<i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>), appertains rather to material objects. To apply +the term figuratively to the forces inherent in national character +savoured of a literary indecorum. Hence the apology.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_370" id="Footnote_370"></a><a href="#FNanchor_370"><span class="label">[370]</span></a> [Addison, <i>Cato</i>, act v. sc. 1, line 3— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"It must be so—<i>Plato</i>, thou reason'st well!—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This longing after immortality?"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_371" id="Footnote_371"></a><a href="#FNanchor_371"><span class="label">[371]</span></a> [Shelley chose this refrain as the motto to his +unfinished lines addressed to his infant son— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My lost William, thou in whom<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Some bright spirit lived——"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_372" id="Footnote_372"></a><a href="#FNanchor_372"><span class="label">[372]</span></a> [Scott commented severely on this opprobrious designation +of "the great and glorious victory of Waterloo," in his critique on the +Fourth Canto, <i>Q. R.</i>, No. xxxvii., April, 1818.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_373" id="Footnote_373"></a><a href="#FNanchor_373"><span class="label">[373]</span></a> <a id="Note_326" name="Note_326">{326}</a> [<i>The substance of some letters written by an +Englishman resident in Paris during the last Reign of the Emperor +Napoleon</i>. 1816. 2 vols.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_374" id="Footnote_374"></a><a href="#FNanchor_374"><span class="label">[374]</span></a> [In 1817.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_375" id="Footnote_375"></a><a href="#FNanchor_375"><span class="label">[375]</span></a> <a id="Note_327" name="Note_327">{327}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">[Venice and La Mira on the Brenta.<br /></span> +<span class="i11">Copied, August, 1817.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Begun, June 26. Finished, July 29th. MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_376" id="Footnote_376"></a><a href="#FNanchor_376"><span class="label">[376]</span></a> [Byron sent the first stanza to Murray, July 1, 1817, +"the shaft of the column as a specimen." Gifford, Frere, and many more +to whom Murray "ventured to show it," expressed their approval (<i>Memoir +of John Murray</i>, i. 385). +</p><p> +"'The Bridge of Sighs,'" he explains (i.e. <i>Ponte de' Sospiri</i>), "is +that which divides, or rather joins, the palace of the Doge to the +prison of the state." Compare <i>The Two Foscari</i>, act iv. sc. 1— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"In Venice '<i>but</i>'s' a traitor.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But me no '<i>buts</i>,' unless you would pass o'er<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Bridge which few repass."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +This, however, is an anachronism. The Bridge of Sighs was built by +Antonio da Ponte, in 1597, more than a century after the death of +Francesco Foscari. "It is," says Mr. Ruskin, "a work of no merit and of +a late period, owing the interest it possesses chiefly to its pretty +name, and to the ignorant sentimentalism of Byron" (<i>Stones of Venice</i>, +1853, ii. 304; in. 359).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_377" id="Footnote_377"></a><a href="#FNanchor_377"><span class="label">[377]</span></a> [Compare <i>Mysteries of Udolpho</i>, by Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, +1794, ii. 35, 36— +</p><p> +"Its terraces crowned with airy yet majestic fabrics ... appeared as if +they had been called up from the Ocean by the wand of an enchanter."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LB" id="Footnote_LB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LB"><span class="label">[lb]</span></a> <a id="Note_328" name="Note_328">{328}</a> ——<i>throned on her Seventy Isles</i>.—[MS. M. altern. +reading, D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_378" id="Footnote_378"></a><a href="#FNanchor_378"><span class="label">[378]</span></a> Sabellicus, describing the appearance of Venice, has made +use of the above image, which would not be poetical were it not +true.—"Quo fit ut qui supernè [ex specula aliqua eminentiore] urbem +contempletur, turritam telluris imaginem medio Oceano figuratam se putet +inspicere." [<i>De Venetæ Urbis situ Narratio</i>, lib. i. <i>Ital. Ill. +Script.</i>, 1600, p. 4. Marcus Antonius Coccius Sabellicus (1436-1506) +wrote, <i>inter alia</i>, a <i>History of Venice</i>, published in folio in 1487, +and <i>Rhapsodiæ Historiarum Enneades, a condito mundo, usque ad</i> A.C. +1504. His description of Venice (<i>vide supra</i>) was published after his +death in 1527. Hofmann does not give him a good character: "Obiit A.C. +1506, turpi morbo confectus, ætat. 70, relicto filio notho." But his +<span title="Au)toepita/phion">Αὐτοεπιτάφιον</span> +implies that he was +satisfied with himself. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Quem non res hominum, non omnis ceperat ætas,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Scribentem capit hæc Coccion urna brevis."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Lexicon Universale</i>, art. "Marcus," etc. +</p><p> +Cybele (sometimes written Cybelle and Cybēle), the "mother of the +Goddesses," was represented as wearing a mural crown—"coronamque +turritam gestare dicitur" (Albricus Phil., <i>De Imag. Deor.</i>, xii.). +Venice with her tiara of proud towers is the earth-goddess Cybele, +having "suffered a sea-change."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LC" id="Footnote_LC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LC"><span class="label">[lc]</span></a> <a id="Note_329" name="Note_329">{329}</a> <i>From spoils of many nations and the East</i>.—[MS. +M., D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_379" id="Footnote_379"></a><a href="#FNanchor_379"><span class="label">[379]</span></a> ["Gems wrought into drinking-vessels, among which the +least precious were framed of turquoise, jasper, or amethyst ... +unnumbered jacinths, emeralds, sapphires, chrysolites, and topazes, and, +lastly, those matchless carbuncles which, placed on the High Altar of +St. Mark's, blazed with intrinsic light, and scattered darkness by their +own beams;—these are but a sample of the treasures which accrued to +Venice" (Villehardouin, lib. in. p. 129). (See <i>Sketches from Venetian +History</i>, 1831, i. 161.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_380" id="Footnote_380"></a><a href="#FNanchor_380"><span class="label">[380]</span></a> [After the fall of Constantinople, in 1204, "the +illustrious Dandolo ... was permitted to tinge his buskins in the purple +hue distinctive of the Imperial Family, to claim exemption from all +feudal service to the Emperor, and to annex to the title of Doge of +Venice the proud style of Despot of Romania, and Lord of One-fourth and +One-eighth of the Roman Empire" (<i>ibid.</i>, 1831, i. 167).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LD" id="Footnote_LD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LD"><span class="label">[ld]</span></a> <i>Monarchs sate down</i>——.—[D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_381" id="Footnote_381"></a><a href="#FNanchor_381"><span class="label">[381]</span></a> +[The gondoliers (see Hobhouse's <a href="#en_4_2">note ii</a>.) used to sing +alternate stanzas of the <i>Gerusalemme Liberata</i>, capping each other like +the shepherds in the <i>Bucolics</i>. The rival reciters were sometimes +attached to the same gondola; but often the response came from a passing +gondolier, a stranger to the singer who challenged the contest. Rogers, +in his <i>Italy</i>, laments the silence which greeted the swan-song of his +own gondolier— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i29">"He sung,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As in the time when Venice was Herself,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Tancred and Erminia. On our oars<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We rested; and the verse was verse divine!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We could not err—Perhaps he was the last—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For none took up the strain, none answer'd him;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And, when he ceased, he left upon my ear<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A something like the dying voice of Venice!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>The Gondola</i> (<i>Poems</i>, 1852, ii. 79). +</p><p> +Compare, too, Goethe's "Letters from Italy," October 6, 1786: "This +evening I bespoke the celebrated <i>song</i> of the mariners, who chaunt +Tasso and Ariosto to melodies of their own. This must actually be +ordered, as it is not to be heard as a thing of course, but rather +belongs to the half-forgotten traditions of former times. I entered a +gondola by moonlight, with one <i>singer</i> before and the other behind me. +They <i>sing</i> their <i>song</i>, taking up the verses alternately.... +</p><p> +"Sitting on the shore of an island, on the bank of a canal, or on the +side of a boat, a gondolier will sing away with a loud penetrating +voice—the multitude admire force above everything—anxious only to be +heard as far as possible. Over the silent mirror it travels +far."—<i>Travels in Italy</i>, 1883, p. 73.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LE" id="Footnote_LE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LE"><span class="label">[le]</span></a> <a id="Note_330" name="Note_330">{330}</a> <i>The pleasure-place of all festivity</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_382" id="Footnote_382"></a><a href="#FNanchor_382"><span class="label">[382]</span></a> <a id="Note_331" name="Note_331">{331}</a> [The Rialto, or Rivo alto, "the middle group of +islands between the shore and the mainland," on the left of the Grand +Canal, was the site of the original city, and till the sixteenth century +its formal and legal designation. The Exchange, or Banco Giro, was held +in the piazza, opposite the church of San Giacomo, which stands at the +head of the canal to the north of the Ponto di Rialto. It was on the +Rialto that Antonio rated Shylock about his "usances." "What news on the +Rialto?" asks Solanio (<i>Merchant of Venice</i>, act i. sc. 3, line 102; act +iii. sc. 1, line 1). Byron uses the word symbolically for Venetian +commerce.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_383" id="Footnote_383"></a><a href="#FNanchor_383"><span class="label">[383]</span></a> [Pierre is the hero of Otway's <i>Venice Preserved</i>. +Shylock and the Moor stand where they did, but what of Pierre? If the +name of Otway—"master of the tragic art"—and the title of his +masterpiece—<i>Venice Preserved, or The Plot Discovered</i> (first played +1682)—are not wholly forgotten, Pierre and Monimia and Belvidera have +"decayed," and are memorable chiefly as favourite characters of great +actors and actresses. Genest notes twenty revivals of the <i>Venice +Preserved</i>, which was played as late as October 27, 1837, when Macready +played "Pierre," and Phelps "Jaffier." "No play that I know," says +Hartley Coleridge (Essays, 1851, ii. 56), "gains so much by acting as +<i>Venice Preserved</i>.... Miss O'Neill, I well remember, made me weep with +Belvidera; but she would have done the same had she spoken in an unknown +tongue." Byron, who professed to be a "great admirer of Otway," in a +letter to Hodgson, August 22, 1811 (<i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. 339, note 1), +alludes to some lines from <i>Venice Preserved</i> (act ii. sc. 3), which +seem to have taken his fancy. Two lines spoken by Belvidera (act ii.), +if less humorous, are more poetical— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i31">"Oh, the day<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too soon will break, and wake us to our sorrow;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Come, come to bed, and bid thy cares Good night!"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_384" id="Footnote_384"></a><a href="#FNanchor_384"><span class="label">[384]</span></a> <a id="Note_332" name="Note_332">{332}</a> [Compare <i>The Dream</i>, i.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i21">"The mind can make<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Substance, and people planets of its own<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With beings brighter than have been, and give<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A breath to forms which can outlive all flesh."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The ideal personages of the poet's creations have the promise of +immortality. The ideal forms which people his imagination transfigure +and supplant the dull and grievous realities of his mortal being and +circumstance; but there are "things" more radiant, more enchanting +still, the "strong realities" of the heart and soul—hope, love, joy. +But they pass! We wake, and lo! it was a dream.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LF" id="Footnote_LF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LF"><span class="label">[lf]</span></a> <i>Denies to the dull trick of life</i>——.—[MS. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_385" id="Footnote_385"></a><a href="#FNanchor_385"><span class="label">[385]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">["In youth I wrote because my mind was full,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And now because I feel it growing dull."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Don Juan</i>, Canto XIV. stanza x. +</p><p> +In youth the poet takes refuge, in the ideal world, from the crowd and +pressure of blissful possibilities; and in age, when hope is beyond +hope, he peoples the solitude with beings of the mind.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LG" id="Footnote_LG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LG"><span class="label">[lg]</span></a> <a id="Note_333" name="Note_333">{333}</a> <i>And this worn feeling</i>——.—[Editions 1816-1891.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LH" id="Footnote_LH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LH"><span class="label">[lh]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And, may be, that which</i> +<span class="bb">{</span> +<span class="uc"><i>springs</i></span> +<span class="bb">}</span> +<span class="dc" style="margin-left:-4.0em;margin-right:1em;"><i>spreads</i></span> +——.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LI" id="Footnote_LI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LI"><span class="label">[li]</span></a> <i>Outshines our Fairies—things in shape and hue</i>.—[MS. +M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LJ" id="Footnote_LJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LJ"><span class="label">[lj]</span></a> +<a id="Note_334" name="Note_334">{334}</a> ——<i>and though I leave behind</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LK" id="Footnote_LK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LK"><span class="label">[lk]</span></a> <i>And make myself a home beside a softer sea</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LL" id="Footnote_LL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LL"><span class="label">[ll]</span></a> +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">——<i>to pine</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Albeit is not my nature, and I twine</i>.—[MS. M. erased]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_386" id="Footnote_386"></a><a href="#FNanchor_386"><span class="label">[386]</span></a> [In another mood he wrote to Murray (June 7, 1819), "I +trust they won't think of 'pickling, and bringing me home to Clod or +Blunderbuss Hall' [see <i>The Rivals</i>, act v. sc. 3]. I am sure my bones +would not rest in an English grave, or my clay mix with the earth of +that country." In this half-humorous outburst he deprecates, or pretends +to deprecate, the fate which actually awaited his remains—burial in the +family vault at Hucknall Torkard. There is, of course, no reference to a +public funeral and a grave in Westminster Abbey. In the next stanza (x. +line 1) he assumes the possibility of his being excluded from the Temple +of Fame; but there is, perhaps, a tacit reference to burial in the +Abbey. If the thought, as is probable, occurred to him, he veils it in a +metaphor.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_387" id="Footnote_387"></a><a href="#FNanchor_387"><span class="label">[387]</span></a> <a id="Note_335" name="Note_335">{335}</a> The answer of the mother of Brasidas, the +Lacedæmonian general, to the strangers who praised the memory of her +son. +</p><p> +[<span title="Brasi/das ga\r ê~)n me\n a)nê\r a)gatho\s">Βρασίδας +γὰρ ἦν μὲν ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς</span>, +<span title="polloi\ d' e)kei/nou krei/ssones e)n tê~| Spa/rtê|">ῇῃπολλοὶ +δ' ἐκείνου +κρείσσονες ἐν τῇ +Σπάρτῃ</span>. +Plutarchi <i>Moralia, Apophthegmata Laconica</i> (Tauchnitz, 1820), ii. +127.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LM" id="Footnote_LM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LM"><span class="label">[lm]</span></a> <i>The widowed Adriatic mourns her Doge</i>.—[MS. M erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_388" id="Footnote_388"></a><a href="#FNanchor_388"><span class="label">[388]</span></a> [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," was broken up and rifled by the French in 1797 (note, by Rev. E. C. +Owen, <i>Childe Harold</i>, 1897, p. 197). +</p><p> +Compare Goethe's "Letters from Italy," October 5, 1786: "To give a +notion of the Bucentaur in one word, I should say that it is a +state-galley. The older one, of which we still have drawings, justified +this appellation still more than the present one, which, by its +splendour, makes us forget the original.... +</p><p> +"The vessel is all ornament; we ought to say, it is overladen with +ornament; it is altogether one piece of gilt carving, for no other +use.... This state-galley is a good index to show what the Venetians +were, and what they considered themselves."—<i>Travels in Italy</i>, 1883, +p. 68. +</p><p> +Compare, too, Wordsworth's sonnet "On the Extinction of the Venetian +Republic"— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"She was a maiden City, bright and free;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">No guile seduced, no force could violate;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And when she took unto herself a Mate,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She must espouse the everlasting Sea."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Works</i>, 1888, p. 180.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_389" id="Footnote_389"></a><a href="#FNanchor_389"><span class="label">[389]</span></a> +<a id="Note_336" name="Note_336">{336}</a> [For "Lion," see Hobhouse's <a href="#en_4_3">note iii</a>. +The "Horses of St. Mark" (<i>vide post</i>, <a href="#Page_338">stanza xiii</a>. line 1), which, according to +history or legend, Augustus "conveyed" from Alexandria to Rome, +Constantine from Rome to Constantinople, Dandolo, in 1204, from +Constantinople to Venice, Napoleon, in 1797, from Venice to Paris, and +which were restored to the Venetians by the Austrians in 1815, were at +one time supposed to belong to the school of Lysippus. Haydon, who +published, in 1817, a curious etching of "The Elgin Horse's Head," +placed side by side with the "Head of one of the Horses ... now at +Venice," subscribes the following critical note: "It is astonishing that +the great principles of nature should have been so nearly lost in the +time between Phidias and Lysippus. Compare these two heads. The Elgin +head is all truth, the other all manner." Hobhouse pronounces the +"Horses" to be "irrevocably Chian," but modern archæologists regard both +"school" and exact period as uncertain.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LN" id="Footnote_LN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LN"><span class="label">[ln]</span></a> <i>Even on the pillar</i>——.—[MS. M., D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_390" id="Footnote_390"></a><a href="#FNanchor_390"><span class="label">[390]</span></a> [According to Milman (<i>Hist. of Lat. Christianity</i>, v. +144), the humiliation of Barbarossa at the Church of St. Mark took place +on Tuesday, July 24, 1177. <i>À propos</i> of the return of the Pope and +Emperor to the ducal palace, he quotes "a curious passage from a newly +recovered poem, by Godfrey of Viterbo, an attendant on the Emperor. So +great was the press in the market that the aged Pope was thrown down— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Jam Papa perisset in arto,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Cæsar ibi vetulum ni relevasset eum."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +"This," he remarks, "is an odd contrast of real life with romance."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_391" id="Footnote_391"></a><a href="#FNanchor_391"><span class="label">[391]</span></a> <a id="Note_337" name="Note_337">{337}</a> ["Oh, for one hour of Dundee!" was the exclamation +of a Highland chieftain at the battle of Sheriff-muir, November 13, 1715 +(Scott's <i>Tales of a Grandfather</i>, III. Series, chap. x.; <i>Prose Works</i>, +Paris, 1830, vii. 768). Wordsworth makes the words his own in the +sonnet, "In the Pass of Killicranky (an Invasion being expected, +October, 1803)" (<i>Works</i>, 1888, p. 201)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O for a single hour of that Dundee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who on that day the word of onset gave!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +And Coleridge, in a letter to Wordsworth (February 8, 1804), thinking, +perhaps, less of the chieftain than the sonnet, exclaims, "'Oh for one +hour of Dundee!' How often shall I sigh, 'Oh for one hour of <i>The +Recluse!</i>'"—an aspiration which Byron would have worded differently.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LO" id="Footnote_LO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LO"><span class="label">[lo]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——<i>who quelled the imperial foe</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>empire's all-conquering foe</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_392" id="Footnote_392"></a><a href="#FNanchor_392"><span class="label">[392]</span></a> [Compare <i>Marino Faliero</i>, act iv. sc. 2, lines 157, +158— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Doge Dandolo survived to ninety summers,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To vanquish empires, and refuse their crown."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +"The vessels that bore the bishops of Soissons and Troyes, the +<i>Paradise</i> and the <i>Pilgrim</i>, were the first which grappled with the +Towers of Constantinople [April, 1204].... The bishops of Soissons and +of Troyes would have placed the blind old Doge Dandolo on the imperial +throne; his election was opposed by the Venetians.... But probably the +wise patriotism of Dandolo himself, and his knowledge of the Venetian +mind, would make him acquiesce in the loss of an honour so dangerous to +his country.... Venice might have sunk to an outpost, as it were, of the +Eastern Empire."—Milman's <i>Hist. of Lat. Christianity</i>, v. 350, 353, +354.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_393" id="Footnote_393"></a><a href="#FNanchor_393"><span class="label">[393]</span></a> <a id="Note_338" name="Note_338">{338}</a> [Hobhouse's version (see <i>Hist. Notes</i>, No. vi.) of +the war of Chioggia is not borne out by modern research. For example, +the long speech which Chinazzo attributes to the Genoese admiral, Pietro +Doria, is probably mythical. The actual menace of the "bitting and +bridling the horses of St. Mark" is assigned by other historians to +Francesco Carrara. Doria was not killed by a stone bullet from the +cannon named The Trevisara, but by the fall of the Campanile in +Chioggia, which had been struck by the bullet. (<i>Venice, an Historical +Sketch of the Republic</i>, by Horatio F. Brown, 1893, pp. 225-234.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LP" id="Footnote_LP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LP"><span class="label">[lp]</span></a> ——<i>into whence she rose</i>.—[Editions 1818-1891.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_394" id="Footnote_394"></a><a href="#FNanchor_394"><span class="label">[394]</span></a> [Compare the opening lines of Byron's <i>Ode on Venice</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh Venice! Venice! when thy marble walls<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Are level with the waters, there shall be<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A cry of nations o'er thy sunken halls,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A loud lament along the sweeping sea!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Shelley, too, in his <i>Lines written among the Euganean Hills</i>, bewailed +the approaching doom of the "sea-girt city." But threatened cities, like +threatened men, live long, and since its annexation to Italy, in 1866, a +revival of trade and the re-establishment of the arsenal have brought +back a certain measure of prosperity.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LQ" id="Footnote_LQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LQ"><span class="label">[lq]</span></a> <a id="Note_339" name="Note_339">{339}</a> <i>Even in Destruction's heart</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_395" id="Footnote_395"></a><a href="#FNanchor_395"><span class="label">[395]</span></a> That is, the Lion of St. Mark, the standard of the +republic, which is the origin of the word Pantaloon—Piantaleone, +Pantaleon, Pantaloon. +</p><p> +[The Venetians were nicknamed Pantaloni. Byron, who seems to have relied +on the authority of a Venetian glossary, assumes that the "by-word" may +be traced to the patriotism of merchant-princes "who were reputed to +hoist flags with the Venetian lion waving to the breeze on every rock +and barren headland of Levantine waters" (<i>Memoirs of Count Carlo +Gozzi</i>, translated by J. Addington Symonds, 1890, Introd. part ii. p. +44), and that in consequence of this spread-eagleism the Venetians were +held up to scorn by their neighbours as "planters of the lion"—a +reproach which conveyed a tribute to their prowess. A more probable +explanation is that the "by-word," with its cognates "Pantaleone," the +typical masque of Italian comedy—progenitor of our "Pantaloon;" and +"pantaloni," "pantaloons," the typical Venetian costume—derive their +origin from the baptismal name "Pantaleone," frequently given to +Venetian children, in honour of St. Pantaleon of Nicomedia, physician +and martyr, whose cult was much in vogue in Northern Italy, and +especially in Venice, where his relics, which "coruscated with +miracles," were the object of peculiar veneration. +</p><p> +St. Pantaleon was known to the Greek Church as +<span title="Panteleê/môn">Παντελεήμων</span>, +that is, the "all-pitiful;" and in Latin his name is +spelled <i>Pantaleymon</i> and <i>Pantaleemon</i>. Hagiologists seem to have been +puzzled, but the compiler of the <i>Acta Sanctorum</i>, for July 27, St. +Pantaleon's Day in the Roman calendar (xxxiii. 397-426), gives the +preference to Pantaleon, and explains that he was hailed as Pantaleemon +by a divine voice at the hour of his martyrdom, which proclaimed "eum +non amplius esse vocandum Pantaleonem, sed Pantaleemonem." +</p><p> +The accompanying woodcut is the reproduction of the frontispiece of a +black-letter tract, composed by Augustinus de Cremâ, in honour of the +"translation" of one of the sainted martyr's arms to Crema, in Lombardy. +It was printed at Cremona, in 1493.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_396" id="Footnote_396"></a><a href="#FNanchor_396"><span class="label">[396]</span></a> <a id="Note_340" name="Note_340">{340}</a> Shakespeare is my authority for the word "Ottomite" +for Ottoman. "Which Heaven hath forbid the Ottomites" (see <i>Othello</i>, +act ii. sc. 3, line 161).—[MS. D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_397" id="Footnote_397"></a><a href="#FNanchor_397"><span class="label">[397]</span></a> ["On 29th September (1669) Candia, and the island of +Candia, passed away from Venice, after a defence which had lasted +twenty-five years, and was unmatched for bravery in the annals of the +Republic."—<i>Venice, an Historical Sketch</i>, by Horatio F. Brown, 1893, +p. 378.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_398" id="Footnote_398"></a><a href="#FNanchor_398"><span class="label">[398]</span></a> ["The battle of Lepanto [October 7, 1571] lasted five +hours.... The losses are estimated at 8000 Christians and 30,000 +Turks.... The chief glory of the victory rests with Sebastian Veniero +and the Venetians."—<i>Venice, etc.</i>, 1893, p. 368.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_399" id="Footnote_399"></a><a href="#FNanchor_399"><span class="label">[399]</span></a> <a id="Note_341" name="Note_341">{341}</a> [The story is told in Plutarch's <i>Life of Nicias</i>, +cap. xxix. (<i>Plut. Vit</i>., Lipsiæ, 1813, v. 154). "The dramas of +Euripides were so popular throughout all Sicily, that those Athenian +prisoners who knew ... portions of them, won the affections of their +masters.... I cannot refrain from mentioning this story, though I fear +its trustworthiness ... is much inferior to its pathos and +interest."—Grote's <i>History of Greece</i>, 1869, vii. 186.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LR" id="Footnote_LR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LR"><span class="label">[lr]</span></a> <i>And won her hopeless children from afar</i>.—[MS. M., D. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LS" id="Footnote_LS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LS"><span class="label">[ls]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>And sends him ransomeless to bless his poet's strains</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>And sends him home to bless the poet for his strains</i>.—<br /></span> +<span class="i48">[MS. D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LT" id="Footnote_LT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LT"><span class="label">[lt]</span></a> +<a id="Note_342" name="Note_342">{342}</a> <i>Thy love of Tassa's verse should cut the +knot</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_400" id="Footnote_400"></a><a href="#FNanchor_400"><span class="label">[400]</span></a> +[By the Treaty of Paris, May 3, 1814, Lombardy and +Venice, which since the battle of Austerlitz had formed part of the +French kingdom of Naples, were once more handed over to Austria. Great +Britain was represented by "a bungler even in its disgusting trade" +(<i>Don Juan</i>, Dedication, stanza xiv.), Lord Castlereagh.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LU" id="Footnote_LU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LU"><span class="label">[lu]</span></a> +——<i>for come it will and shall</i>.—[MS. M., D. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LV" id="Footnote_LV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LV"><span class="label">[lv]</span></a> +<i>And Otway's—Radcliffe's—Schiller's—Shakspeare's +art</i>.—[MS. M., D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_401" id="Footnote_401"></a><a href="#FNanchor_401"><span class="label">[401]</span></a> +Venice Preserved; Mysteries of Udolpho; The Ghost-Seer, +or Armenian; The Merchant of Venice; Othello. +</p><p> +[For <i>Venice Preserved</i>, <i>vide ante</i>, <a href="#Footnote_383">stanza iv. line 7, note</a>. +To the <i>Mysteries of Udolpho</i> Byron was indebted for more than one suggestion, +<i>vide ante</i>, <a href="#Footnote_377">stanza i. line 4, note</a>, and <i>Mysteries, etc.</i>, London, +1794, 2. 39: "The air bore no sounds, but those of sweetness echoing +along each margin of the canal and from gondolas on its surface, while +groups of masks were seen dancing on the moonlit terraces, and seemed +almost to realize the romance of fairy-land." The scene of Schiller's +<i>Der Geisterseher</i> (<i>Werke</i>, 1819, x. 97, <i>sq.</i>) is laid at Venice. +"This [the Doge's palace] was the thing that most struck my imagination +in Venice—more than the Rialto, which I visited for the sake of +Shylock; and more, too, than Schiller's <i>Armenian</i>, a novel which took a +great hold of me when a boy. It is also called the <i>Ghost Seer</i>, and I +never walked down St. Mark's by moonlight without thinking of it, and +'at nine o'clock he died!' [For allusion to the same incident, see +Rogers's <i>Italy</i> (<i>Poems</i>, 1852, ii. 73).] But I hate things <i>all +fiction</i>; and therefore the <i>Merchant</i> and <i>Othello</i> have no great +associations for me: but <i>Pierre</i> has."—Letter to Murray, Venice, April +2, 1817. (For an earlier reference to the <i>Ghost-seer</i>, see <i>Oscar of +Alva: Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 131, note.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LW" id="Footnote_LW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LW"><span class="label">[lw]</span></a> +<a id="Note_343" name="Note_343">{343}</a> <i>Though I have found her thus we will not +part</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_402" id="Footnote_402"></a><a href="#FNanchor_402"><span class="label">[402]</span></a> +[Shelley, in his <i>Lines written among the Euganean +Hills</i>, allows to Venice one lingering glory "one remembrance more +sublime"— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"That a tempest-cleaving swan<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of the songs of Albion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Driven from his ancestral streams<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By the might of evil dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Found a nest in thee; and Ocean<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Welcomed him with such emotion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That its joy grew his, and sprung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">From his lips like music flung<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er a mighty thunder-fit,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chastening terror."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LX" id="Footnote_LX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LX"><span class="label">[lx]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The Past at least is mine—whate'er may come</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But when the heart is full the lips must needs lie dumb</i>.—<br /></span> +<span class="i44">[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>or else mine now were cold and dumb</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_403" id="Footnote_403"></a><a href="#FNanchor_403"><span class="label">[403]</span></a> +<a id="Note_344" name="Note_344">{344}</a> +<i>Tannen</i> is the plural of <i>tanne</i>, a species of fir +peculiar to the Alps, which only thrives in very rocky parts, where +scarcely soil sufficient for its nourishment can be found. On these +spots it grows to a greater height than any other mountain tree. +</p><p> +[Byron did not "know German" (Letter to Murray, June 7, 1820), and he +may, as Mr. Tozer suggests, have supposed that the word "tannen" denoted +not "fir trees" generally, but a particular kind of fir tree. He refers, +no doubt, to the Ebeltanne (<i>Abies pectinata</i>), which is not a native of +this country, but grows at a great height on the Swiss Alps and +throughout the mountainous region of Central Europe.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LY" id="Footnote_LY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LY"><span class="label">[ly]</span></a> <i>But there are minds which as the Tannen grow</i>.—[MS. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_LZ" id="Footnote_LZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_LZ"><span class="label">[lz]</span></a> <i>Of shrubless granite</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MA" id="Footnote_MA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MA"><span class="label">[ma]</span></a> <a id="Note_345" name="Note_345">{345}</a> <i>In rocks and unsupporting places</i>——.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_404" id="Footnote_404"></a><a href="#FNanchor_404"><span class="label">[404]</span></a> [Cicero, <i>De Finibus</i>, II. xxix., controverts the maxim +of Epicurus, that a great sorrow is necessarily of short duration, a +prolonged sorrow necessarily light: "Quod autem magnum dolorem brevem +longinquum levem esse dicitis, id non intelligo quale sit, video enim et +magnos et eosdem bene longinquos dolores." But the sentiment is adopted +by Montaigne (1. xiv.), ed. 1580, p. 66: "Tu ne la sentiras guiere long +temps, si tu la sens trop; elle mettra fin à soy ou à toy; l'un et +l'autre revient a un." ("Si tu ne la portes; elle t'emportera," note.) +And again by Sir Thomas Brown, "Sense endureth no extremities, and +sorrows destroy us or themselves" (see Darmesteter, <i>Childe Harold</i>, +1882, p. 193). Byron is not refining upon these conceits, but is drawing +upon his own experience. Suffering which does not kill is subject to +change, and "continueth not in one stay;" but it remains within call, +and returns in an hour when we are not aware.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_405" id="Footnote_405"></a><a href="#FNanchor_405"><span class="label">[405]</span></a> +<a id="Note_346" name="Note_346">{346}</a> [Compare Bishop Blougram's lament on the +instability of unfaith— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Just when we are safest, there's a sunset-touch,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A fancy from a flower-bell, some one's death,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A chorus-ending from Euripides,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And that's enough for fifty hopes and fears.<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">To rap and knock and enter in our soul,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Take hands and dance there."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Browning's <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1869, v. 268.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MB" id="Footnote_MB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MB"><span class="label">[mb]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>A tone of music—eventide in spring</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, ——<i>twilight—eve in spring</i>.—[MS. M, erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_406" id="Footnote_406"></a><a href="#FNanchor_406"><span class="label">[406]</span></a> <a id="Note_347" name="Note_347">{347}</a> [Compare Scott's <i>Lady of the Lake</i>, I. xxxiii. +lines 21, 22— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"They come, in dim procession led,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The cold, the faithless, and the dead."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_407" id="Footnote_407"></a><a href="#FNanchor_407"><span class="label">[407]</span></a> +<a id="Note_348" name="Note_348">{348}</a> ["Friuli's mountains" are the Julian Alps, which +lie to the north of Trieste and north-east of Venice, "the hoar and aëry +Alps towards the north," which Julian and Count Maddalo +(<i>vide post</i>, <a href="#Footnote_408">p. 349</a>) saw from the Lido. But the Alpine height along which "a sea of +glory" streamed—"the peak of the far Rhætian hill" +(<a href="#Page_349">stanza xxviii.</a> line 4)—must lie to the westward of Venice, +in the track of the setting sun.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_408" id="Footnote_408"></a><a href="#FNanchor_408"><span class="label">[408]</span></a> 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. +</p><p> +[Compare Shelley's <i>Julian and Maddalo</i> (<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1895, i. +343)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"How beautiful is sunset, when the glow<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of Heaven descends upon a land like thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou Paradise of exiles, Italy!<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i22">... We stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Looking upon the evening, and the flood,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which lay between the city and the shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Paved with the image of the sky ... the hoar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And aëry Alps towards the north appeared,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thro' mist, an heaven-sustaining bulwark reared<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Between the East and West; and half the sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was roofed with clouds of rich emblazonry,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dark purple at the zenith, which still grew<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the steep West into a wondrous hue,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Brighter than burning gold."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_409" id="Footnote_409"></a><a href="#FNanchor_409"><span class="label">[409]</span></a> <a id="Note_349" name="Note_349">{349}</a> [The Brenta rises in Tyrol, and flowing past Padua +falls into the Lagoon at Fusina. Mira, or La Mira, where Byron +"colonized" in the summer of 1817, and again in 1819, is on the Brenta, +some six or seven miles inland from the Lagoon.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_410" id="Footnote_410"></a><a href="#FNanchor_410"><span class="label">[410]</span></a> +<a id="Note_350" name="Note_350">{350}</a> [The Abbé de Sade, in his <i>Mémoires pour la vie de +Pétrarque</i> (1767), affirmed, on the strength of documentary evidence, +that the Laura of the sonnets, born de Noves, was the wife of his +ancestor, Hugo de Sade, and the mother of a large family. "Gibbon," says +Hobhouse (<a href="#en_4_8">note viii</a>.), "called the abbé's memoirs a 'labour of love' +(see <i>Decline and Fall</i>, chap. lxx. note 1), and followed him with +confidence and delight;" but the poet James Beattie (in a letter to the +Duchess of Gordon, August 17, 1782) disregarded them as a "romance," +and, more recently, "an ingenious Scotchman" [Alexander Fraser Tytler +(Lord Woodhouselee)], in an <i>Historical and Critical Essay on the Life +and Character of Petrarch</i> (1810), had re-established "the ancient +prejudice" in favour of Laura's virginity. Hobhouse appears, but his +note is somewhat ambiguous, to adopt the view of "the ingenious +Scotchman." To pass to contemporary criticism, Dr. Garnett, in his +<i>History of Italian Literature</i>, 1898 (pp. 66-71), without attempting to +settle "the everlasting controversy," regards the abbé's documentary +evidence as for the most part worthless, and, relying on the internal +evidence of the sonnets and the dialogue, and on the facts of Petrarch's +life as established by his correspondence (a complete series of +Petrarch's letters was published by Giuseppe Fracassetti, in 1859), +inclines to the belief that it was the poet's status as a cleric, and +not a husband and family, which proved a bar to his union with Laura. +With regard, however, to "one piece of documentary evidence," namely, +Laura de Sade's will, Dr. Garnett admits that, if this were producible, +and, on being produced, proved genuine, the coincidence of the date of +the will, April 3, 1348, with a note in Petrarch's handwriting, dated +April 6, 1348, which records the death of Laura, would almost establish +the truth of the abbé's theory "in the teeth of all objections."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_411" id="Footnote_411"></a><a href="#FNanchor_411"><span class="label">[411]</span></a> <a id="Note_351" name="Note_351">{351}</a> ["He who would seek, as I have done, the last +memorials of the life and death of Petrarch in that sequestered Euganean +village [Arquà is about twelve miles south-west of Padua], will still +find them there. A modest house, apparently of great antiquity, passes +for his last habitation. A chair in which he is said to have died is +shown there. And if these details are uncertain, there is no doubt that +the sarcophagus of red marble, supported on pillars, in the churchyard +of Arquà, contains, or once contained, his mortal remains. Lord Byron +and Mr. Hobhouse visited the spot more than sixty years ago in a +sceptical frame of mind; for doubts had at that time been thrown on the +very existence of Laura; and the varied details of the poet's life, +which are preserved with so much fidelity in his correspondence, were +almost forgotten."—<i>Petrarch</i>, by H. Reeve, 1879, p. 14. In a letter to +Hoppner, September 12, 1817, Byron says that he was moved "to turn aside +in a second visit to Arquà." Two years later, October, 1819, he in vain +persuaded Moore "to spare a day or two to go with me to Arquà. I should +like," he said, "to visit that tomb with you—a pair of poetical +pilgrims—eh, Tom, what say you?" But "Tom" was for Rome and Lord John +Russell, and ever afterwards bewailed the lost opportunity "with wonder +and self-reproach" (<i>Life</i>, p. 423; <i>Life</i>, by Karl Elze, 1872, p. +235).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MC" id="Footnote_MC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MC"><span class="label">[mc]</span></a> <a id="Note_352" name="Note_352">{352}</a> <i>His mansion and his monument</i>——.—[MS. M., D. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MD" id="Footnote_MD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MD"><span class="label">[md]</span></a> ——<i>formed his sepulchral fane</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_412" id="Footnote_412"></a><a href="#FNanchor_412"><span class="label">[412]</span></a> [Compare Wordsworth's <i>Ode</i>, "Intimations of," etc., xi. +lines 9-11— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The clouds that gather round the setting sun<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Do take a sober colouring from an eye<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_413" id="Footnote_413"></a><a href="#FNanchor_413"><span class="label">[413]</span></a> ["Euganeis istis in collibus ... domum parvam sed +delectabilem et honestam struxi ... hic quanquam æger corpore, +tranquillus animo frater dego, sine tumultibus, sine erroribus, sine +curis, legens semper et scribens, Deum laudans."—Petrarca, <i>Epistolæ +Seniles</i>, xiv. 6 (<i>Opera</i>, Basileæ, 1581, p. 938). +</p><p> +See, too, the notes to <i>Arquà</i> (Rogers's <i>Italy: Poems</i>, 1852, ii. +105-109), which record the pilgrimage of other poets, Boccaccio and +Alfieri, to the great laureate's tomb; and compare with Byron's stanzas +the whole of that exquisite cameo, delicate and yet durable as if graved +on chalcedony.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ME" id="Footnote_ME"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ME"><span class="label">[me]</span></a> <a id="Note_353" name="Note_353">{353}</a> <i>Society's the school where taught to live.</i>—[MS. +M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MF" id="Footnote_MF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MF"><span class="label">[mf]</span></a> ——<i>the soul with God must strive</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_414" id="Footnote_414"></a><a href="#FNanchor_414"><span class="label">[414]</span></a> The struggle is to the full as likely to be with demons +as with our better thoughts. Satan chose the wilderness for the +temptation of our Saviour. And our unsullied John Locke preferred the +presence of a child to complete solitude. +</p><p> +["He always chose to have company with him, if it were only a child; for +he loved children, and took pleasure in talking with those that had been +well trained" (<i>Life of John Locke</i>, by H. R. Fox-Bourne, ii. 537). Lady +Masham's daughter Esther, and "his wife" Betty Clarke, aged eleven +years, were among his child-friends.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MG" id="Footnote_MG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MG"><span class="label">[mg]</span></a> <a id="Note_354" name="Note_354">{354}</a> <i>Which dies not nor can ever pass away</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MH" id="Footnote_MH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MH"><span class="label">[mh]</span></a> <i>The tomb a hell—and life one universal gloom</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_415" id="Footnote_415"></a><a href="#FNanchor_415"><span class="label">[415]</span></a> [Byron passed a single day at Ferrara in April, 1817; +went over the castle, cell, etc., and a few days after wrote <i>The Lament +of Tasso</i>, the manuscript of which is dated April 20, 1817. The Fourth +Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i> was not begun till the end of June in the same +year.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_416" id="Footnote_416"></a><a href="#FNanchor_416"><span class="label">[416]</span></a> [Of the ancient family of Este, Marquesses of Tuscany, +Azzo V. was the first who obtained power in Ferrara in the twelfth +century. A remote descendant, Nicolo III. (b. 1384, d. 1441), founded +the University of Parma. He married for his second wife Parisina +Malatesta (the heroine of Byron's <i>Parisina</i>, published February, 1816), +who was beheaded for adultery in 1425. His three sons, Lionel (d. 1450), +the friend of Poggio Bracciolini; Borso (d. 1471), who established +printing in his states; and Ercolo (d. 1505), the friend of +Boiardo,—were all patrons of letters and fosterers of the Renaissance. +Their successor, Alphonso I. (1486-1534), who married Lucrezia Borgia, +1502, honoured himself by attaching Ariosto to his court, and it was his +grandson, Alphonso II. (d. 1597), who first befriended and afterwards, +on the score of lunacy, imprisoned Tasso in the Hospital of Sant' Anna +(1579-86).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_417" id="Footnote_417"></a><a href="#FNanchor_417"><span class="label">[417]</span></a> <a id="Note_355" name="Note_355">{355}</a> [It is a fact that Tasso was an involuntary inmate +of the Hospital of Sant' Anna at Ferrara for seven years and four +months—from March, 1579, to July, 1586—but the causes, the character, +and the place of his imprisonment have been subjects of legend and +misrepresentation. It has long been known and acknowledged (see +Hobhouse's <i>Historical Illustrations</i>, 1818, pp. 5-31) that a real or +feigned passion for Duke Alphonso's sister, Leonora d'Este, was not the +cause or occasion of his detention, and that the famous cell or dungeon +("nine paces by six, and about seven high") was not "the original place +of the poet's confinement." It was, as Shelley says (see his letter to +Peacock, November 7, 1818), "a very decent dungeon;" but it was not +Tasso's. The setting of the story was admitted to be legendary, but the +story itself, that a poet was shut up in a madhouse because a vindictive +magnate resented his love of independence and impatience of courtly +servitude, was questioned, only to be reasserted as historical. The +publication of Tasso's letters by Guasti, in 1853, a review of Tasso's +character and career in Symonds's <i>Renaissance in Italy</i>, and, more +recently, Signor Angelo Solerti's monumental work, <i>Vita di Torquato +Tasso</i> (1895), which draws largely upon the letters of contemporaries, +the accounts of the ducal court, and other documentary evidence, have in +a great measure exonerated the duke at the expense of the unhappy poet +himself. Briefly, Tasso's intrigues with rival powers—the Medici at +Florence, the papal court, and the Holy Office at Bologna—aroused the +alarm and suspicion of the duke, whilst his general demeanour and his +outbursts of violence and temper compelled, rather than afforded, a +pretext for his confinement. Before his final and fatal return to +Ferrara, he had been duly warned that he must submit to be treated as a +person of disordered intellect, and that if he continued to throw out +hints of designs upon his life and of persecution in high places, he +would be banished from the ducal court and dominions. But return he +would, and at an inauspicious moment, when the duke was preoccupied with +the ceremonies and festivities of a third marriage. No one attended to +him or took heed of his arrival; and, to quote his own words, "in a fit +of madness" he broke out into execrations of the ducal court and family, +and of the people of Ferrara. For the offence he was shut up in the +Hospital of Sant' Anna, and for many months treated as an ordinary +lunatic. Of the particulars of his treatment during these first eight +months of his confinement, apart from Tasso's own letters, there is no +evidence. The accounts of the hospital are lost, and the <i>Libri di +spesa</i> (<i>R. Arch. di Stato in Modena</i>; <i>Camer. Ducale: Casa</i>; +<i>Amministrazione</i>, Solerti, iii. <i>Docu</i>. 47) do not commence till +November 20, 1579. Two years later, the <i>Libri di spenderia</i> (Solerti, +in. <i>Docu</i>. 51), from January, 1582, onward, show that he was put on a +more generous diet; and it is known that a certain measure of liberty +and other indulgences were gradually accorded. There can, however, be +little doubt that for many months his food was neglected and medical +attendance withheld. His statement, that he was denied the rites of the +Church, cannot be gainsaid. He was regarded as a lunatic, and, as such, +he would not be permitted either to make his confession or to +communicate. Worse than all, there was the terrible solitude. "E sovra +tutto," he writes (May, 1580), "m'affligge la solitudine, mia crudele e +natural nimica." No wonder the attacks of delirium, the "unwonted +lights," the conference with a familiar spirit, followed in due course. +Byron and Shelley were ignorant of the facts; and we know that their +scorn and indignation were exaggerated and misplaced. But the "pity of +it" remains, that the grace and glory of his age was sacrificed to +ignorance and fear, if not to animosity and revenge. (See <i>Tasso</i>, by E. +J. Hasell; <i>History of the Italian Renaissance</i>, by J. A. Symonds; +<i>Quart. Rev.</i>, October, 1895, No. 364, art. x.; <i>Vita di Torquato +Tasso</i>, 1895, i. 312-314, 410-412, etc.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MI" id="Footnote_MI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MI"><span class="label">[mi]</span></a> +<a id="Note_357" name="Note_357">{357}</a> <i>And thou for no one useful purpose born</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_418" id="Footnote_418"></a><a href="#FNanchor_418"><span class="label">[418]</span></a> +[Solerti (<i>Vita</i>, i. 418) combats the theory advanced by +Hobhouse (see <a href="#en_4_10">note x.</a>), that Lionardo Salviati, in order to curry +favour with Alphonso, was responsible for "the opposition which the +Jerusalem encountered from the Cruscan Academy." He assigns their +unfavourable criticism to literary sentiment or prejudice, and not to +personal animosity or intrigue. The <i>Gerusalemme Liberata</i> was dedicated +to the glory of the house of Este; and, though the poet was in disgrace, +the duke was not to be propitiated by an attack upon the poem. Moreover, +Salviati did not publish his theses in his own name, but under a <i>nom de +guerre</i>, "L'Infarinato."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MJ" id="Footnote_MJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MJ"><span class="label">[mj]</span></a> <a id="Note_358" name="Note_358">{358}</a> <i>And baffled Gaul whose rancour could allow</i>.—[MS. +M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MK" id="Footnote_MK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MK"><span class="label">[mk]</span></a> <i>Which grates upon the teeth</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_419" id="Footnote_419"></a><a href="#FNanchor_419"><span class="label">[419]</span></a> +[Hobhouse, in his <a href="#en_4_10">note x.</a>, quotes Boileau, but not in +full. The passage runs thus— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Tous les jours, à la cour, un sot de qualité<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Peut juger de travers avec impunité,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A Malherbe, à Racan, préfère Théophile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et le clinquant du Tasse à tout l'or de Virgile."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Perhaps he divined that the phrase, "un sot de qualité," might glance +back on a "noble author," who was about to admit that he could not +savour Horace, and who turned aside from Mantua and memories of Virgil +to visit Ferrara and the "cell" where Tasso was "encaged." (See +Darmesteter's <i>Notes to Childe Harold</i>, pp. 201, 217.) +</p><p> +If "the Youth with brow serene," as Hugo calls him, had lived to read +<i>Dédain. A Lord Byron, en</i> 1811, he would have passed a somewhat +different criticism on French poetry in general— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"En vain vos légions l'environnent sans nombre,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Il n'a qu'à se lever pour couvrir de son ombre<br /></span> +<span class="i6">A la fois tous vos fronts;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Il n'a qu'à dire un mot pour couvrir vos voix grèles,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Comme un char en passant couvre le bruit des ailes<br /></span> +<span class="i6">De mille moucherons!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Les Feuilles d'Automne</i>, par Victor Hugo, Bruxelles, 1833, pp. 59, +63.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ML" id="Footnote_ML"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ML"><span class="label">[ml]</span></a> <a id="Note_359" name="Note_359">{359}</a> <i>Could mount into a mind like thine</i>——.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MM" id="Footnote_MM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MM"><span class="label">[mm]</span></a> ——<i>they would not form the Sun</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_420" id="Footnote_420"></a><a href="#FNanchor_420"><span class="label">[420]</span></a> [In a letter to Murray (August 7, 1817) Byron throws out +a hint that Scott might not like being called "the Ariosto of the +North," and Murray seems to have caught at the suggestion. "With regard +to 'the Ariosto of the North,'" rejoins Byron (September 17, 1817), +"surely their themes, Chivalry, war, and love, were as like as can be; +and as to the compliment, if you knew what the Italians think of +Ariosto, you would not hesitate about that.... If you think Scott will +dislike it, say so, and I will expunge." Byron did not know that when +Scott was at college at Edinburgh he had "had the audacity to produce a +composition in which he weighed Homer against Ariosto, and pronounced +him wanting in the balance," or that he "made a practice of reading +through ... the <i>Orlando</i> of Ariosto once every year" (see <i>Memoirs of +the Life, etc.</i>, 1871, pp. 12, 747); but the parallel had suggested +itself. The key-note of "the harpings of the north," the chivalrous +strain of "shield, lance, and brand, and plume and scarf," of "gentle +courtesy," of "valour, lion-mettled lord," which the "Introduction to +<i>Marmion</i>" preludes, had been already struck in the opening lines of the +<i>Orlando Furioso</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Le Donne, i Cavaliér', l'arme, gli amori,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Le cortesíe, l'audaci imprese io canto."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Scott, we may be assured, was neither disconcerted nor uplifted by the +parallel. Many years before (July 6, 1812), Byron had been at pains to +inform him that so august a critic as the Prince Regent "preferred you +to every bard past and present," and "spoke alternately of Homer and +yourself." Of the "placing" and unplacing of poets there is no end. +Byron had already been sharply rebuked by the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> for +describing <i>Christabel</i> as a "wild and singularly original and beautiful +poem," and his appreciation of Scott provoked the expostulation of a +friendlier critic. "Walter Scott," wrote Francis Hodgson, in his +anonymous <i>Monitor of Childe Harold</i> (1818), "(<i>credite posteri</i>, or +rather <i>præposteri</i>), is designated in the Fourth Canto of <i>Childe +Harold</i> as 'the Northern Ariosto,' and (droller still) Ariosto is +denominated 'the Southern Scott.' This comes of mistaking +horse-chestnuts for chestnut horses."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_421" id="Footnote_421"></a><a href="#FNanchor_421"><span class="label">[421]</span></a> <a id="Note_361" name="Note_361">{361}</a> The two stanzas xlii. and xliii. are, with the +exception of a line or two, a translation of the famous sonnet of +Filicaja:—"Italia, Italia, O tu, cui feo la sorte!"—<i>Poesie Toscane</i> +1823, p. 149. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">["Italia, Italia, o tu cui feo la sorte<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Dono infelice di bellezza, ond'hai<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Funesta dote d'infiniti guai<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Che in fronte scritti per gran doglia porte:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Deh fossi tu men bella, o almen più forte,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Onde assai più ti paventasse, o assai<br /></span> +<span class="i2">T'amasse men, chi del tuo bello ai rai<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Par che si strugga, e pur ti sfida a morte,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Chè or giù dall' Alpi non vedrei torrenti<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Scender d'armati, nè di sangue tinta<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Bever l'onda del Po gallici armenti;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nè te vedrei, del non tuo ferro cinta,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Pugnar col braccio di straniere genti,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Per servir sempre, o vincitrice, o vinta."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MN" id="Footnote_MN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MN"><span class="label">[mn]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And on thy brow in characters of flame</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To write the words of sorrow and of shame</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MO" id="Footnote_MO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MO"><span class="label">[mo]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">——<i>unbetrayed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To death by thy vain charms</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_422" id="Footnote_422"></a><a href="#FNanchor_422"><span class="label">[422]</span></a> <a id="Note_362" name="Note_362">{362}</a> The celebrated letter of Servius Sulpicius 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 Ægina towards Megara, I began to contemplate the prospect +of the countries around me: Ægina was behind, Megara before me; Piræus +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 before me in one view."—See Middleton's +<i>Cicero</i>, 1823, ii. 144. +</p><p> +[The letter is to be found in Cicero's <i>Epist. ad Familiares</i>, iv. 5. +Byron, on his return from Constantinople on July 14, 1810, left Hobhouse +at the Island of Zea, and made his own way to Athens. As the vessel +sailed up the Saronic Gulf, he would observe the "prospect" which +Sulpicius describes.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MP" id="Footnote_MP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MP"><span class="label">[mp]</span></a> <a id="Note_363" name="Note_363">{363}</a> <i>These carcases of cities</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_423" id="Footnote_423"></a><a href="#FNanchor_423"><span class="label">[423]</span></a> ["By the events of the years 1813 and 1814, the house of +Austria gained possession of all that belonged to her in Italy, either +before or in consequence of the Peace of Campo Formio (October 17, +1797). A small portion of Ferrara, to the north of the Po (which had +formed part of the Papal dominions), was ceded to her, as were the +Valteline, Bormio, Chiavenna, and the ancient republic of Ragusa. The +emperor constituted all these possessions into a separate and particular +state, under the title of the kingdom of Venetian Lombardy."—Koch's +<i>History of Europe</i>, p. 234.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_424" id="Footnote_424"></a><a href="#FNanchor_424"><span class="label">[424]</span></a> <a id="Note_364" name="Note_364">{364}</a> It is Poggio, who, looking from the Capitoline hill +upon ruined Rome, breaks forth into the exclamation, "Ut nunc omni +decore nudata, prostrata jaceat, instar Gigantei cadaveris corrupti +atque undique exesi." +</p><p> +[See <i>De Fortunæ Varietate</i>, ap. <i>Nov. Thes. Ant. Rom.</i>, ap. Sallengre, +i. 502.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_425" id="Footnote_425"></a><a href="#FNanchor_425"><span class="label">[425]</span></a> [Compare Milton, <i>Sonnet</i> xxii.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">" ... my noble task,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Of which all Europe talks from side to side."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MQ" id="Footnote_MQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MQ"><span class="label">[mq]</span></a> <a id="Note_365" name="Note_365">{365}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Where Luxury might willingly be born</i>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And buried Learning looks forth into fresher morn</i>,—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_426" id="Footnote_426"></a><a href="#FNanchor_426"><span class="label">[426]</span></a> [The wealth which permitted the Florentine nobility to +indulge their taste for modern, that is, refined luxury was derived from +success in trade. For example, Giovanni de' Medici (1360-1428), the +father of Cosmo and great-grand-father of Lorenzo de' Medici, was a +banker and Levantine merchant. As for the Renaissance, to say nothing of +Petrarch of Florentine parentage, two of the greatest Italian scholars +and humanists—Ficino, born A.D. 1430, and Poliziano, born 1454—were +Florentines; and Poggio was born A.D. 1380, at Terra Nuova on Florentine +soil.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MR" id="Footnote_MR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MR"><span class="label">[mr]</span></a> <i>There, too, the Goddess breathes in stone and +fills</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_427" id="Footnote_427"></a><a href="#FNanchor_427"><span class="label">[427]</span></a> [The statue of Venus de' Medici, which stands in the +Tribune of the Uffizzi Gallery at Florence, is said to be a late Greek +(first or second century B.C.) copy of an early reproduction, of the +Cnidian Aphrodite, the work, perhaps, of one of his sons, Kephisodotos +or Timarchos. (See <i>Histoire de la Sculpture Grecque</i>, par Maxime +Collignon, Paris, 1897, ii. 641.) In a Catalogue Raissonné of <i>La +Galerie de Florence</i>, 1804, in the editor's possession, which opens with +an eloquent tribute to the enlightenment of the Medici, <i>la fameuse +Vénus</i> is conspicuous by her absence. She had been deported to Paris by +Napoleon, but when Lord Byron spent a day in Florence in April, 1817, +and returned "drunk with Beauty" from the two galleries, the lovely +lady, thanks to the much-abused "Powers," was once more in her proper +shrine.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MS" id="Footnote_MS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MS"><span class="label">[ms]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">——<i>and we draw</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>As from a fountain of immortal hills</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_428" id="Footnote_428"></a><a href="#FNanchor_428"><span class="label">[428]</span></a> <a id="Note_366" name="Note_366">{366}</a> [Byron's contempt for connoisseurs and dilettanti +finds expression in <i>English Bards, etc.</i>, lines 1027-1032, and, again, +in <i>The Curse of Minerva</i>, lines 183, 184. The "stolen copy" of <i>The +Curse</i> was published in the <i>New Monthly Magazine</i> (<i>Poetical Works</i>, +1898, i. 453) under the title of <i>The Malediction of Minerva; or, The +Athenian Marble-Market</i>, a title (see line 7) which must have been +invented by and not for Byron. He returns to the charge in <i>Don Juan</i>, +Canto 11. stanza cxviii. lines 5-9— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i22">" ... a statuary,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">(A race of mere impostors, when all's done—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I've seen much finer women ripe and real,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Than all the nonsense of their stone ideal)."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Even while confessing the presence and power of "triumphal Art" in +sculpture, one of "the two most artificial of the Arts" (see his letter +to Murray, April 26, 1817), then first revealed to him at Florence, he +took care that his enthusiasm should not be misunderstood. He had made +bitter fun of the art-talk of collectors, and he was unrepentant, and, +moreover, he was "not careful" to incur a charge of indifference to the +fine arts in general. Among the "crowd" which found their place in his +complex personality, there was "the barbarian," and there was "the +philistine," and there was, too, the humourist who took a subtle +pleasure in proclaiming himself "a plain man," puzzled by subtleties, +and unable to catch the drift of spirits finer than his own.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_429" id="Footnote_429"></a><a href="#FNanchor_429"><span class="label">[429]</span></a> <a id="Note_367" name="Note_367">{367}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span title="O)phthalmou\s e(stia~n">Ὀφθαλμοὺς ἑστιᾶν</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0">"Atque oculos pascat uterque suos."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><span class="smcap">Ovid</span>., <i>Amor</i>., lib. ii. [Eleg. 2, line 6]. +</p><p> +[Compare, too, Lucretius, lib. i. lines 36-38— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Atque ita, suspiciens tereti cervice reposta,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pascit amore avidos, inhians in te, Dea, visus;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ore;"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +and <i>Measure for Measure</i>, act ii. sc. 2, line 179— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And feast upon her eyes."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MT" id="Footnote_MT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MT"><span class="label">[mt]</span></a> <a id="Note_368" name="Note_368">{368}</a> <i>Glowing and all-diffused</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_430" id="Footnote_430"></a><a href="#FNanchor_430"><span class="label">[430]</span></a> [As the immortals, for love's sake, divest themselves of +their godhead, so do mortals, in the ecstasy of passion, recognize in +the object of their love the incarnate presence of deity. Love, like +music, can raise a "mortal to the skies" and "bring an angel down." In +this stanza there is, perhaps, an intentional obscurity in the confusion +of ideas, which are "thrown out" for the reader to shape for himself as +he will or can.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MU" id="Footnote_MU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MU"><span class="label">[mu]</span></a> ——<i>and our Fate</i>——[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_431" id="Footnote_431"></a><a href="#FNanchor_431"><span class="label">[431]</span></a> <a id="Note_369" name="Note_369">{369}</a> ["The church of Santa Croce contains much +illustrious nothing. The tombs of Macchiavelli, Michael Angelo, Galileo +Galilei, and Alfieri make it the Westminster Abbey of Italy" (Letter to +Murray, April 26, 1817). Michael Angelo, Alfieri, and Macchiavelli are +buried in the south aisle of the church; Galileo, who was first buried +within the convent, now rests with his favourite pupil, Vincenzo +Viviani, in a vault in the south aisle. Canova's monument to Alfieri was +erected at the expense of his so-called widow, Louise, born von +Stolberg, and (1772-78) consort of Prince Charles Edward.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_432" id="Footnote_432"></a><a href="#FNanchor_432"><span class="label">[432]</span></a> [Vittorio Alfieri (1749-1803) is one of numerous real and +ideal personages with whom, as he tells us (<i>Life</i>, p. 644), Byron was +wont to be compared. Moore perceives and dwells on the resemblance. A +passage in Alfieri's autobiography (<i>La Vie de V. A. écrite par +Lui-même</i>, Paris, 1809, p. 17) may have suggested the parallel— +</p> +<div class="blockquot"> +<p>"Voici une esquisse du caractère que je manifestais dans les +premières anneés de ma raison naissante. Taciturne et tranquille +pour l'ordinaire, mais quelquefois extrêmement pétulant et +babillard, presque toujours dans les extrêmes, obstiné et rebelle à +la force, fort soumis aux avis qu'on me donnait avec amitié, +contenu plutôt par la crainte d'être grondé que par toute autre +chose, d'une timidité excessive, et inflexible quand on voulait me +prendre à rebours."</p> +</div> +<p> +The resemblance, as Byron admits, "related merely to our apparent +personal dispositions." Both were noble, both were poets, both were +"patrician republicans," and both were lovers of pleasure as well as +lovers and students of literature; but their works do not provoke +comparison. "The quality of 'a narrow elevation' which [Matthew] Arnold +finds in Alfieri," is not characteristic of the author of <i>Childe +Harold</i> and <i>Don Juan</i>. +</p><p> +Of this stanza, however, Alfieri's fine sonnet to Florence may have been +the inspiration. I have Dr. Garnett's permission to cite the following +lines of his admirable translation (<i>Italian Literature</i>, 1898, p. +321):— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Was Angelo born here? and he who wove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Love's charm with sorcery of Tuscan tongue,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Indissolubly blent? and he whose song<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Laid bare the world below to world above?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And he who from the lonely valley clove<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The azure height and trod the stars among?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And he whose searching mind the monarch's wrong,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fount of the people's misery did prove?"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MV" id="Footnote_MV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MV"><span class="label">[mv]</span></a> <a id="Note_370" name="Note_370">{370}</a> <i>Might furnish forth a Universe</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MW" id="Footnote_MW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MW"><span class="label">[mw]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4"><i>And ruin of thy beauty, shall deny</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>And hath denied, to every other sky</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>Spirits that soar like thine; from thy decay</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"> +<span style="font-size:200%;float:left;margin-top:0.25em;margin-right:0.5em;">{</span> +<i>Still springs some son of the Divinity</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Still springs some work of the Divinity</i>—[D.]<br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>And gilds thy ruins with reviving ray</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And what these were of yore—Canova is to-day</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_433" id="Footnote_433"></a><a href="#FNanchor_433"><span class="label">[433]</span></a> [Compare "Lines on the Bust of Helen by Canova," which +were sent in a letter to Murray, November 25, 1816— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In this beloved marble view,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Above the works and thoughts of man,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What nature <i>could</i>, but <i>would not</i>, do,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And Beauty and Canova can."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +In <i>Beppo</i> (stanza xlvi.), which was written in October, 1817, there is +a further allusion to the genius of Canova.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MX" id="Footnote_MX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MX"><span class="label">[mx]</span></a> <a id="Note_371" name="Note_371">{371}</a> <i>Their great Contemporary</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_434" id="Footnote_434"></a><a href="#FNanchor_434"><span class="label">[434]</span></a> [Dante died at Ravenna, September 14, 1321, and was +buried in the Church of S. Francesco. His remains were afterwards +transferred to a mausoleum in the friars' cemetery, on the north side of +the church, which was raised to his memory by his friend and patron, +Guido da Polenta. The mausoleum was restored more than once, and rebuilt +in its present form in 1780, at the cost of Cardinal Luigi Valenti +Gonzaga. On the occasion of Dante's sexcentenary, in 1865, it was +discovered that at some unknown period the skeleton, with the exception +of a few small bones which remained in an urn which formed part of +Gonzaga's structure, had been placed for safety in a wooden box, and +enclosed in a wall of the old Braccioforte Chapel, which lies outside +the church towards the Piazza. "The bones found in the wooden box were +placed in the mausoleum with great pomp and exultation, the poet being +now considered the symbol of a united Italy. The wooden box itself has +been removed to the public library."—<i>Handbook far Northern Italy</i>, p. +539, note. +</p><p> +The house which Byron occupied during his first visit to Ravenna—June 8 +to August 9, 1819—is close to the Cappella Braccioforte. In January, +1820, when he wrote the Fourth Canto of <i>Don Juan</i> ("I pass each day +where Dante's bones are laid," stanza civ.), he was occupying a suite of +apartments in the Palazzo Guiccioli, No. 328 in the Via di Porta +Adriana. Compare Rogers's <i>Italy</i>, "Bologna," <i>Poems</i>, ii. 118— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Ravenna! where from Dante's sacred tomb<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He had so oft, as many a verse declares,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Drawn inspiration."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_435" id="Footnote_435"></a><a href="#FNanchor_435"><span class="label">[435]</span></a> +[The story is told in Livy, lib. xxxviii. cap. 53. +"Thenceforth no more was heard of Africanus. He passed his days at +Liternum [on the shore of Campania], without thought or regret of Rome. +Folk say that when he came to die he gave orders that he should be +buried on the spot, and that there, and not at Rome, a monument should +be raised over his sepulchre. His country had been ungrateful—no Roman +funeral for him." It is said that his sepulchre bore the inscription: +"Ingrata patria, cineres meos non habebis." According to another +tradition, he was buried with his family at the Porta Capena, by the +Cælian Hill.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_436" id="Footnote_436"></a><a href="#FNanchor_436"><span class="label">[436]</span></a> [Compare Lucan, <i>Pharsalia</i>, i. I—"Bella per Emathios +plusquam civilia campos."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_437" id="Footnote_437"></a><a href="#FNanchor_437"><span class="label">[437]</span></a> [Petrarch's <i>Africa</i> brought him on the same day (August +23, 1340) offers of the laurel wreath of poetry from the University of +Paris and from the Senate of Rome. He chose in favour of Rome, and was +crowned on the Capitol, Easter Day, April 8, 1341. "The poet appeared in +a royal mantle ... preceded by twelve noble Roman youths clad in +scarlet, and the heralds and trumpeters of the Roman +Senate."—<i>Petrarch</i>, by Henry Reeve, p. 92.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_438" id="Footnote_438"></a><a href="#FNanchor_438"><span class="label">[438]</span></a> <a id="Note_372" name="Note_372">{372}</a> [Tomasini, in the <i>Petrarca Redivivus</i> (pp. +168-172, ed. 1650), assigns the outrage to a party of Venetians who +"broke open Petrarch's tomb, in 1630, and took away some of his bones, +probably with the object of selling them." Hobhouse, in <a href="#en_4_9">note ix.</a>, +says, "that one of the arms was stolen by a Florentine," but does not +quote his authority. (See the notes to H. F. Tozer's <i>Childe Harold</i>, p. +302.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_439" id="Footnote_439"></a><a href="#FNanchor_439"><span class="label">[439]</span></a> [Giovanni Boccaccio was born at Paris (or Certaldo) in +1313, passed the greater part of his life at Florence, died and was +buried at Certaldo, whence his family are said to have sprung, in 1375. +His sepulchre, which stood in the centre of the Church of St. Michael +and St. James, known as the Canonica, was removed in 1783, on the plea +that a recent edict forbidding burial in churches applied to ancient +interments. "The stone that covered the tomb was broken, and thrown +aside as useless into the adjoining cloisters" (<i>Handbook for Central +Italy</i>, p. 171). "Ignorance," pleads Hobhouse, "may share the crime with +bigotry." But it is improbable that the "hyæna bigots," that is, the +ecclesiastical authorities, were ignorant that Boccaccio was a bitter +satirist of Churchmen, or that "he transferred the functions and +histories of Hebrew prophets and prophetesses, and of Christian saints +and apostles, nay, the highest mysteries and most awful objects of +Christian Faith, to the names and drapery of Greek and Roman +mythology."—(Unpublished MS. note of S. T. Coleridge, written in his +copy of Boccaccio's <i>Opere</i>, 4 vols. 1723.) They had their revenge on +Boccaccio, and Byron has had his revenge on them.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MY" id="Footnote_MY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MY"><span class="label">[my]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Boccaccio to his parent earth, bequeathed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The dust derived from thence—doth it not lie</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>With many a sweet and solemn requiem breathed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>O'er him who formed the tongue of Italy</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That music in itself whose harmony</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Asks for no tune to make it song; No—torn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>From earth—and scattered while the silent sky</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Hushed its indignant Winds—with quiet scorn</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The Hyæna bigots thus forbade a World to mourn</i>.—[D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_440" id="Footnote_440"></a><a href="#FNanchor_440"><span class="label">[440]</span></a> <a id="Note_374" name="Note_374">{374}</a> [Compare <i>Beppo</i>, stanza xliv.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which melts like kisses from a female mouth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With syllables which breathe of the sweet South."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Compare, too, the first sentence of a letter which Byron wrote "on a +blank leaf of the volume of 'Corinne,'" which Teresa [Guiccioli] left in +forgetfulness in a garden in Bologna: "<span class="smcap">Amor Mio</span>,—How sweet is this word +in your Italian language!" (<i>Life of Lord Byron</i>, by Emilio Castelar, P. +145).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_441" id="Footnote_441"></a><a href="#FNanchor_441"><span class="label">[441]</span></a> [By "Cæsar's pageant" Byron means the pageant decreed by +Tiberius Cæsar. Compare <i>Don Juan</i>, Canto XV. stanza xlix.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And this omission, like that of the bust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Brutus at the pageant of Tiberius."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +At the public funeral of Junia, wife of Cassius and sister of Brutus, +A.D. 22, the busts of her husband and brother were not allowed to be +carried in the procession, because they had taken part in the +assassination of Julius Cæsar. But none the less, "Præfulgebant Brutus +et Cassius eo ipso quod effigies eorum non videbantur" (Tacitus, <i>Ann.</i>, +iii. 76). Their glory was conspicuous in men's minds, because their +images were withheld from men's eyes. As Tacitus says elsewhere (iv. +26), "Negatus honor gloriam intendit."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_MZ" id="Footnote_MZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_MZ"><span class="label">[mz]</span></a> <a id="Note_375" name="Note_375">{375}</a> <i>Shelter of exiled Empire</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_442" id="Footnote_442"></a><a href="#FNanchor_442"><span class="label">[442]</span></a> [The inscription on Ricci's monument to Dante, in the +Church of Santa Croce—"A majoribus ter frustra decretum" —refers to +the vain attempts which Florence had made to recover the remains of her +exiled and once-neglected poet.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_443" id="Footnote_443"></a><a href="#FNanchor_443"><span class="label">[443]</span></a> ["I also went to the Medici chapel—fine frippery in +great slabs of various expensive stones, to commemorate fifty rotten and +forgotten carcasses. It is unfinished, and will remain so" (Letter to +Murray, April 26, 1817). The bodies of the grand-dukes lie in the crypt +of the Cappella dei Principi, or Medicean Chapel, which forms part of +the Church of San Lorenzo. The walls of the chapel are encrusted with +rich marbles and "stones of price, to garniture the edifice." The +monuments to Giuliano and Lorenzo de' Medici, son and grandson of +Lorenzo the Magnificent, with Michael Angelo's allegorical figures of +Night and Morning, Aurora and Twilight, are in the adjoining Cappella +dei Depositi, or Sagrestia Nuova.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_444" id="Footnote_444"></a><a href="#FNanchor_444"><span class="label">[444]</span></a> <a id="Note_376" name="Note_376">{376}</a> [The Duomo, crowned with Brunelleschi's cupola, and +rich in sculpture and stained glass, is, as it were, a symbol of +Florence, the shrine of art. Browning, in his inspired vision of St. +Peter's at Rome in <i>Christmas Eve</i>, catches Byron's note to sound a +loftier strain— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is it really on the earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This miraculous dome of God?"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +"It is somewhere mentioned that Michael Angelo, when he set out from +Florence to build the dome of St. Peter's, turned his horse round in the +road to contemplate that of the cathedral, as it rose in the grey of the +morning from among the pines and cypresses of the city, and that he +said, after a pause, 'Come te non voglio! Meglio di te non posso.' He +never, indeed, spoke of it but with admiration; and, if we may believe +tradition, his tomb, by his own desire, was to be so placed in the Santa +Croce as that from it might be seen, when the doors of the church stood +open, that noble work of Brunelleschi."—Rogers's <i>Italy: Poems</i>, ii. +315, note to p. 133, line 5—"Beautiful Florence."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_445" id="Footnote_445"></a><a href="#FNanchor_445"><span class="label">[445]</span></a> +<a id="Note_377" name="Note_377">{377}</a> [Byron, contrary to traditional use (see +Wordsworth's sonnet, "Near the Lake of Thrasymene;" and Rogers's +<i>Italy</i>, see <a href="#Footnote_446">note, p. 378</a>), sounds the final vowel in Thrasymēné. The +Greek, Latin, and Italian equivalents bear him out; but, most probably, +he gave Thrasymene and himself an extra syllable "vel metri vel euphoniæ +causâ."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NA" id="Footnote_NA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NA"><span class="label">[na]</span></a> +<i>Where Courage perished in unyielding files</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_446" id="Footnote_446"></a><a href="#FNanchor_446"><span class="label">[446]</span></a> +["Tantusque fuit ardor armorum, adeo intentus pugnæ +animus, ut eum motum terræ, qui multarum urbium Italiæ magnas partes, +prostravit, avertitque cursu rapidos amnes, marce fluminibus invexit, +montes lapsu ingenti proruit, nemo pugnantium senserit" (Livy, xxii. 5). +Polybius says nothing about an earthquake; and Ihne (<i>Hist, of Rome</i>, +ii. 207-210) is also silent; but Pliny (<i>Hist. Nat.</i>, ii. 84) and +Coelius Antipater (ap. Cic., <i>De Div.</i>, i. 35), who wrote his <i>Annales</i> +about a century after the battle of Lake Thrasymenus (B.C. 217), +synchronize the earthquake and the battle. Compare, too, Rogers's +<i>Italy</i>, "The Pilgrim:" <i>Poems</i>, 1852, ii. 152— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i9">"From the Thrasymene, that now<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Slept in the sun, a lake of molten gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And from the shore that once, when armies met,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rocked to and fro unfelt, so terrible<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The rage, the slaughter, I had turned away."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Compare, too, Wordsworth's sonnet (No. xii.), "Near the Lake of +Thrasymene" (<i>Works</i>, 1888, p. 756)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"When here with Carthage Rome to conflict came,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">An earthquake, mingling with the battle's shock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Checked not its rage; unfelt the ground did rock,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sword dropped not, javelin kept its deadly aim,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Now all is sun-bright peace."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NB" id="Footnote_NB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NB"><span class="label">[nb]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Fly to the clouds for refuge and withdraw</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>From their unsteady nests</i>——.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NC" id="Footnote_NC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NC"><span class="label">[nc]</span></a> <a id="Note_379" name="Note_379">{379}</a> <i>Made fat the earth</i>——.—[MS. M. erased]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_447" id="Footnote_447"></a><a href="#FNanchor_447"><span class="label">[447]</span></a> No book of travels has omitted to expatiate on the temple +of the Clitumnus, between Foligno and Spoleto; and no site, or scenery, +even in Italy, is more worthy a description. For an account of the +dilapidation of this temple, the reader is referred to <i>Historical +Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold</i>, p. 35.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_448" id="Footnote_448"></a><a href="#FNanchor_448"><span class="label">[448]</span></a> [Compare Virgil, <i>Georg</i>., ii. 146— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hinc albi, Clitumne, greges et maxuma taurus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Victima, sæpe tuo perfusi flumine sacro."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The waters of certain rivers were supposed to possess the quality of +making the cattle which drank from them white. (See Pliny, <i>Hist. Nat.</i>, +ii. 103; and compare Silius Italicus, <i>Pun.</i>, iv. 545, 546— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">" ...et patulis Clitumnus in arvis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Candentes gelido perfundit flumine tauros.")<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +For a charming description of Clitumnus, see Pliny's letter "Romano +Suo," <i>Epist.</i>, viii. 8: "At the foot of a little hill covered with old +and shady cypress trees, gushes out a spring, which bursts out into a +number of streamlets, all of different sizes. Having struggled, so to +speak, out of its confinement, it opens out into a broad basin, so clear +and transparent, that you may count the pebbles and little pieces of +money which are thrown into it.... The banks are clothed with an +abundance of ash and poplar, which are so distinctly reflected in the +clear water that they seem to be growing at the bottom of the river, and +can easily be counted.... Near it stands an ancient and venerable +temple, in which is a statue of the river-god Clitumnus."—<i>Pliny's +Letters</i>, by the Rev. A. Church and the Rev. W. J. Brodribb, 1872, p. +127.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_449" id="Footnote_449"></a><a href="#FNanchor_449"><span class="label">[449]</span></a> <a id="Note_380" name="Note_380">{380}</a> [The existing temple, now used as a chapel (St. +Salvatore), can hardly be Pliny's <i>templum priscum</i>. Hobhouse, in his +<i>Historical Illustrations</i>, pp. 37-41, defends the antiquity of the +"façade, which consists of a pediment supported by four columns and two +Corinthian piers, two of the columns with spiral fluting, the others +covered with fish-scaled carvings" (<i>Handbook for Central Italy</i>, p. +289); but in the opinion of modern archæologists the whole of the +structure belongs to the fourth or fifth century of the Christian era. +It is, of course, possible, indeed probable, that ancient materials were +used when the building was reconstructed. Pliny says the "numerous +chapels" dedicated to other deities were scattered round the shrine of +Clitumnus.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ND" id="Footnote_ND"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ND"><span class="label">[nd]</span></a> <i>Upon a green declivity</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_450" id="Footnote_450"></a><a href="#FNanchor_450"><span class="label">[450]</span></a> <a id="Note_381" name="Note_381">{381}</a> ["On my way back [from Rome], close to the temple +by its banks, I got some famous trout out of the river Clitumnus, the +prettiest little stream in all poesy."—Letter to Murray, June 4, +1817.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NE" id="Footnote_NE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NE"><span class="label">[ne]</span></a> <i>There is a course where Lovers' evening tales</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_451" id="Footnote_451"></a><a href="#FNanchor_451"><span class="label">[451]</span></a> [By "disgust," a prosaic word which seems to mar a fine +stanza, Byron does not mean "distaste," aversion from the nauseous, but +"tastelessness," the inability to enjoy taste. Compare the French "Avoir +du dégout pour la vie," "To be out of conceit with life." Byron was "a +lover of Nature," but it was seldom that he felt her "healing power," or +was able to lose himself in his surroundings. But now, for the moment, +he experiences that sudden uplifting of the spirit in the presence of +natural beauty which brings back "the splendour in the grass, the glory +in the flower!"]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NF" id="Footnote_NF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NF"><span class="label">[nf]</span></a> <a id="Note_382" name="Note_382">{382}</a> <i>Making it as an emerald</i>——.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NG" id="Footnote_NG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NG"><span class="label">[ng]</span></a> <i>Leaps on from rock to rock—with mighty bound</i>.—[MS. +M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_452" id="Footnote_452"></a><a href="#FNanchor_452"><span class="label">[452]</span></a> <a id="Note_383" name="Note_383">{383}</a> I saw the Cascata del Marmore of Terni twice, at +different periods—once from the summit of the precipice, and again from +the valley below. The lower view is far to be preferred, if the +traveller has time for one only; but in any point of view, either from +above or below, it is worth all the cascades and torrents of Switzerland +put together: the Staubach, Reichenbach, Pisse Vache, fall of Arpenaz, +etc., are rills in comparative appearance. Of the fall of Schaffhausen I +cannot speak, not yet having seen it. +</p><p> +[The Falls of Reichenbach are at Rosenlaui, between Grindelwald and +Meiringen; the Salanfe or Pisse-Vache descends into the valley of the +Rhone near Martigny; the Nant d'Arpenaz falls into the Arve near +Magland, on the road between Cluses and Sallanches.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_453" id="Footnote_453"></a><a href="#FNanchor_453"><span class="label">[453]</span></a> +Of the time, place, and qualities of this kind of iris, +the reader will see a short account, in a note to <i>Manfred</i>.<a href="#F432_A">[A]</a> The fall +looks so much like "the Hell of waters," that Addison thought the +descent alluded to by the gulf in which Alecto<a href="#F432_B">[B]</a> plunged into the +infernal regions. It is singular enough, that two of the finest cascades +in Europe should be artificial—this of the Velino, and the one at +Tivoli. The traveller is strongly recommended to trace the Velino, at +least as high as the little lake called <i>Pie' di Lup</i>. The Reatine +territory was the Italian Tempe (Cicer., <i>Epist. ad Attic.</i>, lib. iv. +15), and the ancient naturalists ["In lacu Velino nullo non die apparere +arcus"] (Plin., <i>Hist. Nat.</i>, lib. ii. cap. lxii.), amongst other +beautiful varieties, remarked the daily rainbows of the lake Velinus. A +scholar of great name has devoted a treatise to this district alone. See +Ald. Manut., <i>De Reatina Urb Agroque</i>, ap. Sallengre, <i>Nov. Thes. Ant. +Rom.</i>, 1735, tom. i. p.773, <i>sq.</i> +</p><p> +[The "Falls of the Anio," which passed over a wall built by Sixtus V., +and plunged into the Grotto of Neptune, were greatly diminished in +volume after an inundation which took place in 1826. The New Falls were +formed in 1834.] +</p><p> +[<a id="F432_A">[A]</a> <i>Manfred</i>, act ii. sc. 1, note. This Iris is formed by the rays of +the sun on the lower part of the Alpine torrents; it is exactly like a +rainbow come down to pay a visit, and so close that you may walk into +it: this effect lasts till noon.] +</p><p> +[<a id="F432_B">[B]</a> "This is the gulf through which Virgil's Alecto shoots herself +into hell; for the very place, the great reputation of it, the fall of +waters, the woods that encompass it, with the smoke and noise that arise +from it, are all pointed at in the description ... +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Est locus Italiæ ...<br /></span> +<span class="i0">... densis hunc frondibus atrum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Urguet utrimque latus nemoris, medioque fragosus<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dat sonitum saxis et torto vertice torrens.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hic specus horrendum et sævi spiracula Ditis<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Monstrantur, ruptoque ingens Acheronte vorago<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pestiferas aperit fauces.'<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Æneid</i>, vii. 563-570. +</p><p> +It was indeed the most proper place in the world for a Fury to make her +exit ... and I believe every reader's imagination is pleased when he +sees the angry Goddess thus sinking, as it were, in a tempest, and +plunging herself into Hell, amidst such a scene of horror and +confusion."—<i>Remarks on several Parts of Italy</i>, by Joseph Addison, +Esq., 1761, pp. 100. 101. </p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NH" id="Footnote_NH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NH"><span class="label">[nh]</span></a> <a id="Note_385" name="Note_385">{385}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>Dares not ascend the summit</i>——<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>Clothes a more rocky summit</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_454" id="Footnote_454"></a><a href="#FNanchor_454"><span class="label">[454]</span></a> In the greater part of Switzerland, the avalanches are +known by the name of lauwine. +</p><p> +[Byron is again at fault with his German. "Lawine" (see Schiller, +<i>Wilhelm Tell</i>, act iii. sc. 3) signifies an avalanche, not avalanches. +In stanza xii. line 7 a similar mistake occurs. It may seem strange +that, for the sake of local colouring, or for metrical purposes, he +should substitute a foreign equivalent which required a note, for a fine +word already in vogue. But in 1817 "avalanche" itself had not long been +naturalized. Fifty years before, the Italian <i>valanca</i> and <i>valanche</i> +had found their way into books of travel, but "avalanche" appears first +(see <i>N. Eng. Dict.</i>, art. "Avalanche") in 1789, in Coxe's <i>Trav. +Switz.</i>, xxxviii. ii. 3, and in poetry, perhaps, in Wordsworth's +<i>Descriptive Sketches</i>, which were written in 1791-2. Like "cañon" and +"veldt" in our own day, it might be regarded as on probation. But the +fittest has survived, and Byron's unlovely and misbegotten "lauwine" has +died a natural death.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NI" id="Footnote_NI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NI"><span class="label">[ni]</span></a> <i>But I have seen the virgin Jungfrau rear</i>.—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_455" id="Footnote_455"></a><a href="#FNanchor_455"><span class="label">[455]</span></a> <a id="Note_386" name="Note_386">{386}</a> These stanzas may probably remind the reader of +Ensign Northerton's remarks, "D—n Homo," etc.;<a href="#F455_A">[A]</a> but the reasons for +our dislike are not exactly the same. I wish to express, that we become +tired of the task before we can comprehend the beauty; that we learn by +rote before we can get by heart; that the freshness is worn away, and +the future pleasure and advantage deadened 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. For the same +reason, we never can be aware of the fulness of some of the finest +passages of Shakspeare ("To be or not to be," for instance), from the +habit of having them hammered into us at eight years old, as an +exercise, not of mind, but of memory: so that when we are old enough to +enjoy them, the taste is gone, and the appetite palled. In some parts of +the continent, young persons are taught from more common authors, and do +not read the best classics till their maturity. I certainly do not speak +on this point from any pique or aversion towards the place of my +education. I was not a slow, though an idle boy; and I believe no one +could, or can be, more attached to Harrow than I have always been, and +with reason;—a part of the time passed there was the happiest of my +life; and my preceptor, the Rev. Dr. Joseph Drury, was the best and +worthiest friend I ever possessed, whose warnings I have remembered but +too well, though too late when I have erred,—and whose counsels I have +but followed when I have done well or wisely. If ever this imperfect +record of my feelings towards him should reach his eyes, let it remind +him of one who never thinks of him but with gratitude and veneration—of +one who would more gladly boast of having been his pupil, if, by more +closely following his injunctions, he could reflect any honour upon his +instructor. +</p><p> +[<a id="F455_A">[A]</a> "'Don't pretend to more ignorance than you have, Mr. Northerton; I +suppose you have heard of the Greeks and Trojans, though, perhaps, you +have never read Pope's Homer.'—'D—n Homer with all my heart,' says +Northerton: 'I have the marks of him ... yet. There's Thomas of our +regiment always carries a Homo in his pocket.'"—<i>The History of Tom +Jones</i>, by H. Fielding, vii. 12.] </p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_456" id="Footnote_456"></a><a href="#FNanchor_456"><span class="label">[456]</span></a> [The construction is somewhat involved, but the meaning +is obvious. As a schoolboy, the Horatian Muse could not tempt him to +take the trouble to construe Horace; and, even now, Soracte brings back +unwelcome memories of "confinement's lingering hour," say, "3 quarters +of an hour past 3 o'clock in the afternoon, 3rd school" (see <i>Life</i>, p. +28). Moore says that the "interlined translations" on Byron's +school-books are "a proof of the narrow extent of his classical +attainments." He must soon have made up for lost time, and "conquered +for the poet's sake," as numerous poetical translations from the +classics, including the episode of Nisus and Euryalus, evidently a +labour of love, testify. Nor, too, does the trouble he took and the +pride he felt in <i>Hints from Horace</i> correspond with this profession of +invincible distaste.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NJ" id="Footnote_NJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NJ"><span class="label">[nj]</span></a> <a id="Note_388" name="Note_388">{388}</a> <i>My mind to analyse</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NK" id="Footnote_NK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NK"><span class="label">[nk]</span></a> <i>Yet such the inveterate impression</i>——.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NL" id="Footnote_NL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NL"><span class="label">[nl]</span></a> ——<i>but what it then abhorred must still abhor</i>.—[MS. +M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NM" id="Footnote_NM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NM"><span class="label">[nm]</span></a> <a id="Note_389" name="Note_389">{389}</a> ——<i>in her tearless woe</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_457" id="Footnote_457"></a><a href="#FNanchor_457"><span class="label">[457]</span></a> [The tomb of the Scipios, by the Porta Latina, was +discovered by the brothers Sassi, in May, 1780. It consists of "several +chambers excavated in the tufa." One of the larger chambers contained +the famous sarcophagus of L. Scipio Barbatus, the great-grandfather of +Scipio Africanus, which is now in the Vatican in the Atrio Quadrate. +When the sarcophagus was opened, in 1780, the skeleton was found to be +entire. The bones were collected and removed by Angelo Quirini to his +villa at Padua. The chambers contained numerous inscriptions, which were +detached and removed to the Vatican. Hobhouse (<i>Hist. Illust</i>., pp. +169-171) is at pains to point out that the discovery of 1780 confirmed +the authenticity of an inscription to Lucius, son of Barbatus Scipio, +which had been brought to light in 1615, and rejected by the Roman +antiquaries as a forgery. He prints two of the inscriptions (<i>Handbook +for Rome</i>, pp. 278, 350, 351, ed. 1899).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_458" id="Footnote_458"></a><a href="#FNanchor_458"><span class="label">[458]</span></a> [The sepulchres were rifled, says Hobhouse (<i>ibid</i>., p. +173), "either to procure the necessary relics for churches dedicated to +Christian saints or martyrs, or" (a likelier hypothesis) "with the +expectation of finding the ornaments ... buried with the dead. The +sarcophagi were sometimes transported from their site and emptied for +the reception of purer ashes." He instances those of Innocent II. and +Clement XII., "which were certainly constructed for heathen tenants."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_459" id="Footnote_459"></a><a href="#FNanchor_459"><span class="label">[459]</span></a> <a id="Note_390" name="Note_390">{390}</a> [The reference is to the historical inundations of +the Tiber, of which a hundred and thirty-two have been recorded from the +foundation of the city down to December, 1870, when the river rose to +fifty-six feet—thirty feet above its normal level.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_460" id="Footnote_460"></a><a href="#FNanchor_460"><span class="label">[460]</span></a> [The Goths besieged and sacked Rome under Alaric, A.D. +410, and Totila, 546. Other barbarian invaders—Genseric, a Vandal, 455; +Ricimer, a Sueve, 472; Vitiges, a Dalmatian, 537; Arnulph, a Lombard, +756—may come under the head of "Goth." "The Christian," "from motives +of fanaticism"—Theodosius, for instance, in 426; and Stilicho, who +burned the Sibylline books—despoiled, mutilated, and pulled down +temples. Subsequently, popes, too numerous to mention, laid violent +hands on the temples for purposes of repair, construction, and +ornamentation of Christian churches. More than once ancient structures +were converted into cannon-balls. There were, too, Christian invaders +and sackers of Rome: Robert Guiscard (Hofmann calls him Wiscardus), in +1004; Frederic Barbarossa, in 1167; the Connétable de Bourbon, in 1527, +may be instanced. "Time and War" speak for themselves. For "Flood," +<i>vide supra</i>. As for "Fire," during the years 1082-84 the Emperor Henry +IV. burnt "a great part of the Leonine city;" and Guiscard "burnt the +town from the Flaminian gate to the Antonine column, and laid waste the +Esquiline to the Lateran; thence he set fire to the region from that +church to the Coliseum and the Capitol." Of earthquakes Byron says +nothing; but there were earthquakes, e.g. in 422 and 1349. Another foe, +a destroying angel who "wasteth at noonday," modern improvement, had not +yet opened a seventh seal. (See <i>Historical Illustrations</i>, pp. +91-168.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NN" id="Footnote_NN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NN"><span class="label">[nn]</span></a> <a id="Note_391" name="Note_391">{391}</a> <i>She saw her glories one by one expire</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_461" id="Footnote_461"></a><a href="#FNanchor_461"><span class="label">[461]</span></a> [Compare Macaulay's <i>Lays of Ancient Rome</i>, "Prophecy of +Capys," stanza xxx.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Blest and thrice blest the Roman<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who sees Rome's brightest day,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sees that long victorious pomp<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Wind down the Sacred Way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And through the bellowing Forum,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And round the Suppliant's Grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Up to the everlasting gates<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of Capitolian Jove."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NO" id="Footnote_NO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NO"><span class="label">[no]</span></a> <i>The double night of Ruin</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_462" id="Footnote_462"></a><a href="#FNanchor_462"><span class="label">[462]</span></a> [The construction is harsh and puzzling. Apparently the +subject of "hath wrapt" is the "double night of ages;" the subjects of +"wrap," the "night of ages" and the "night of Ignorance;" but, even so, +the sentence is ambiguous. Not less amazing is the confusion of +metaphors. Rome is a "desert," through which we steer, mounted, +presumably, on a camel—the "ship of the desert." Mistaken associations +are, as it were, stumbling-blocks; and no sooner have we verified an +association, discovered a ruined temple in the exact site which Livy's +"pictured page" has assigned to it—a discovery as welcome to the +antiquarian as water to the thirsty traveller—than our theory is upset, +and we perceive that we have been deluded by a mirage.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_463" id="Footnote_463"></a><a href="#FNanchor_463"><span class="label">[463]</span></a> <a id="Note_392" name="Note_392">{392}</a> Orosius gives 320 for the number of triumphs [i.e. +from Romulus to the double triumph of Vespasian and Titus (<i>Hist.</i>, vii. +9)]. He is followed by Panvinius; and Panvinius by Mr. Gibbon and the +modern writers.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NP" id="Footnote_NP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NP"><span class="label">[np]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Alas, for Tully's voice, and Titus' sway</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And Virgil's verse; the first and last must be</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Her Resurrection</i>——.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_464" id="Footnote_464"></a><a href="#FNanchor_464"><span class="label">[464]</span></a> Certainly, were it not for these two traits in the life +of Sylla, alluded to in this stanza, we should regard him as a monster +unredeemed by any admirable quality. The <i>atonement</i> of his voluntary +resignation of empire may perhaps be accepted by us, as it seems to have +satisfied the Romans, who if they had not respected must have destroyed +him. There could be no mean, no division of opinion; they must have all +thought, like Eucrates, that what had appeared ambition was a love of +glory, and that what had been mistaken for pride was a real grandeur of +soul.—("Seigneur, vous changez toutes mes idées, de la façon dont je +vous vois agir. Je croyois que vous aviez de l'ambition, mais aucun +amour pour la gloire; je voyois bien que votre âme étoit haute; mais je +ne soupçonnois pas qu'elle fut grande."—<i>Dialogue de Sylla et +d'Eucrate</i>.) <i>Considérations ... de la Grandeur des Romains, etc.</i>, +Paris, 1795, ii. 219. By Charles de Secondat, Baron de Montesquieu. +</p><p> +[Stanza lxxxiii. indicates the following events in the life of Sulla. In +B.C. 81 he assumed the name of Felix (or, according to Plutarch, +Epaphroditus, Plut, <i>Vitæ</i>, 1812, iv. 287), (line 1). Five years before +this, B.C. 86, during the consulship of Marius and Cinna, his party had +been overthrown, and his regulations annulled; but he declined to return +to Italy until he had brought the war against Mithridates to a +successful conclusion, B.C. 83 (lines 3-6). In B.C. 81 he was appointed +dictator (line 7), and B.C. 79 he resigned his dictatorship and retired +into private life (line 9).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NQ" id="Footnote_NQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NQ"><span class="label">[nq]</span></a> <a id="Note_394" name="Note_394">{394}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i24">——<i>how supine</i><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>Into such dust deserted Rome should fade,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>In self-woven sackcloth Rome should thus be laid</i>.—<br /></span> +<span class="i35">[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NR" id="Footnote_NR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NR"><span class="label">[nr]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>The Earth beneath her shadow and displayed</i><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>Her wings as with the horizon and was hailed,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>The rushings of his wings and was Almighty hailed</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NS" id="Footnote_NS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NS"><span class="label">[ns]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Sylla supreme of Victors—save our own</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The ablest of Usurpers—Cromwell—he</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Who swept off Senates—while he hewed the Throne</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Down to a block—immortal Villain! See</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>What crimes, etc</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_465" id="Footnote_465"></a><a href="#FNanchor_465"><span class="label">[465]</span></a> On the 3rd of September Cromwell gained the victory of +Dunbar [1650]; a year afterwards he obtained "his crowning mercy" of +Worcester [1651]; and a few years after [1658], on the same day, which +he had ever esteemed the most fortunate for him, died.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_466" id="Footnote_466"></a><a href="#FNanchor_466"><span class="label">[466]</span></a> <a id="Note_395" name="Note_395">{395}</a> [The statue of Pompey in the Sala dell' Udinanza of +the Palazzo Spada is no doubt a portrait, and belongs to the close of +the Republican period. It cannot, however, with any certainty be +identified with the statue in the Curia, at whose base "great Cæsar +fell." (See <i>Antike Bildwerke in Rom.</i>, F. Matz, F. von Duhn, i. 309.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_467" id="Footnote_467"></a><a href="#FNanchor_467"><span class="label">[467]</span></a> <a id="Note_396" name="Note_396">{396}</a> [The bronze "Wolf of the Capitol" in the Palace of +the Conservators is unquestionably ancient, belonging to the end of the +sixth or beginning of the fifth century B.C., and probably of +Græco-Italian workmanship. The twins, as Winckelmann pointed out (see +Hobhouse's <i>note</i>), are modern, and were added under the impression that +this was the actual bronze described by Cicero, <i>Cat.</i>, iii. 8, and +Virgil, <i>Æn.</i>, viii. 631. (See <i>Monuments de l'Art Antique</i>, par Olivier +Rayet, Paris, 1884, Livraison II, Planche 7.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_468" id="Footnote_468"></a><a href="#FNanchor_468"><span class="label">[468]</span></a> [The Roman "things" whom the world feared, set the +fashion of shedding their blood in the pursuit of glory. The nations, of +modern Europe, "bastard" Romans, have followed their example.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_469" id="Footnote_469"></a><a href="#FNanchor_469"><span class="label">[469]</span></a> <a id="Note_397" name="Note_397">{397}</a> [Compare <i>The Age of Bronze</i>, v.—"The king of +kings, and yet of slaves the slave."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_470" id="Footnote_470"></a><a href="#FNanchor_470"><span class="label">[470]</span></a> [In <i>Comparison of the Present State of France with that +of Rome</i>, etc., published in the <i>Morning Post</i>, September 21, 1802, +Coleridge speaks of Buonaparte as the "new Cæsar," but qualifies the +expression in a note: "But if reserve, if darkness, if the employment of +spies and informers, if an indifference to all religions, except as +instruments of state policy, with a certain strange and dark +superstition respecting fate, a blind confidence in his destinies,—if +these be any part of the Chief Consul's character, they would force upon +us, even against our will, the name and history of Tiberius."—<i>Essays +on His Own Times</i>, ii. 481.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_471" id="Footnote_471"></a><a href="#FNanchor_471"><span class="label">[471]</span></a> [According to Suetonius, i. 37, the famous words, <i>Veni +Vidi, Vici</i>, were blazoned on litters in the triumphal procession which +celebrated Cæsar's victory over Pharnaces II., after the battle of Zela +(B.C. 47).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_472" id="Footnote_472"></a><a href="#FNanchor_472"><span class="label">[472]</span></a> <a id="Note_398" name="Note_398">{398}</a> [By "flee" in the "Gallic van," Byron means "fly +towards, not away from, the foe." He was, perhaps, thinking of the +Biblical phrases, "flee like a bird" (<i>Ps</i>. xi. 1), and "flee upon +horses" (<i>Isa</i>. xxx. 16); but he was not careful to "tame down" words to +his own use and purpose.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NT" id="Footnote_NT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NT"><span class="label">[nt]</span></a> <i>Of pettier passions which raged angrily</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NU" id="Footnote_NU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NU"><span class="label">[nu]</span></a> <i>At what? can he reply? his lusting is unnamed</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NV" id="Footnote_NV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NV"><span class="label">[nv]</span></a> ——<i>How oft—how long, oh God!</i>—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_473" id="Footnote_473"></a><a href="#FNanchor_473"><span class="label">[473]</span></a> <a id="Note_399" name="Note_399">{399}</a> ——"Omnes poene veteres; qui nihil cognosci, nihil +percipi, nihil sciri posse dixerunt; augustos sensus, imbecillos animos, +brevia curricula vitar, et (ut Democritus) in profundo veritatem esse +demersam; opinionibus et institutis omnia teneri; nihil veritati +relinqui: deinceps omnia tenebris circumfusa esse +dixerunt."—<i>Academ.</i>, lib. I. cap. 12. The eighteen hundred years +which have elapsed since Cicero wrote this, have not removed any of the +imperfections of humanity: and the complaints of the ancient +philosophers may, without injustice or affectation, be transcribed in a +poem written yesterday.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_474" id="Footnote_474"></a><a href="#FNanchor_474"><span class="label">[474]</span></a> [Compare Gray's <i>Elegy</i>, stanza xv.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Full many a gem of purest ray serene<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NW" id="Footnote_NW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NW"><span class="label">[nw]</span></a> <i>And thus they sleep in some dull certainty</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_475" id="Footnote_475"></a><a href="#FNanchor_475"><span class="label">[475]</span></a> [Compare <i>As You Like It</i>, act ii. sc. 7, lines 26-28— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And then, from hour to hour, we rot and rot;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thereby hangs a tale."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NX" id="Footnote_NX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NX"><span class="label">[nx]</span></a> <a id="Note_400" name="Note_400">{400}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>For such existence is as much to die</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>Bequeathing their trampled natures till they die</i>.—<br /></span> +<span class="i26">[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_476" id="Footnote_476"></a><a href="#FNanchor_476"><span class="label">[476]</span></a> [In his speech <i>On the Continuance of the War with +France</i>, which Pitt delivered in the House of Commons, February 17, +1800, he described Napoleon as "the child and champion of Jacobinism." +At least the phrase occurs in the report which Coleridge prepared for +the <i>Morning Post</i> of February 18, 1800, and it appears in the later +edition in the Collection of Pitt's speeches. "It does not occur in the +speech as reported by the <i>Times</i>." It is curious that in the jottings +which Coleridge, Parliamentary reporter <i>pro hac vice</i>, scrawled in +pencil in his note-book, the phrase appears as "the nursling and +champion of Jacobinism;" and it is possible that the alternative of the +more rhetorical but less forcible "child" was the poet's handiwork. It +became a current phrase, and Coleridge more than once reverts to it in +the articles which he contributed to the <i>Morning Post</i> in 1802. (See +<i>Essays on His Own Times</i>, ii. 293, and iii. 1009-1019; and <i>Letters of +Samuel Taylor Coleridge</i>, 1895, i. 327, note.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NY" id="Footnote_NY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NY"><span class="label">[ny]</span></a> <a id="Note_401" name="Note_401">{401}</a> <i>Deep in the lone Savannah</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_NZ" id="Footnote_NZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_NZ"><span class="label">[nz]</span></a> <i>Too long hath Earth been drunk with blood and +crime</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OA" id="Footnote_OA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OA"><span class="label">[oa]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Her span of freedom hath but fatal been</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To that of any coming age or clime</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_477" id="Footnote_477"></a><a href="#FNanchor_477"><span class="label">[477]</span></a> <a id="Note_402" name="Note_402">{402}</a> [By the "base pageant" Byron refers to the Congress +of Vienna (September, 1815); the "Holy Alliance" (September 26), into +which the Duke of Wellington would not enter; and the Second Treaty of +Paris, November 20, 1815.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_478" id="Footnote_478"></a><a href="#FNanchor_478"><span class="label">[478]</span></a> [Compare Shelley's <i>Hellas: Poems</i>, 1895, ii. 358— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"O Slavery! thou frost of the world's prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Killing its flowers, and leaving its thorns bare!"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_479" id="Footnote_479"></a><a href="#FNanchor_479"><span class="label">[479]</span></a> [Shelley chose the first two lines of this stanza as the +motto for his <i>Ode to Liberty</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_480" id="Footnote_480"></a><a href="#FNanchor_480"><span class="label">[480]</span></a> Alluding to the tomb of Cecilia Metella, called Capo di +Bove. [Four words, and two initials, compose the whole of the +transcription which, whatever was its ancient position, is now placed in +front of this towering sepulchre: "<span class="smcap">Cæciliæ. Q. Cretici. F. Metellæ. +Crassi.</span>" +</p><p> +"The Savelli family were in possession of the fortress in 1312, and the +German army of Henry VII. marched from Rome, attacked, took, and burnt +it, but were unable to make themselves, by force, masters of the +citadel—that is, the tomb." The "fence of stone" refers to the +quadrangular basement of concrete, on which the circular tower rests. +The tower was originally coated with marble, which was stripped off for +the purpose of making lime. The work of destruction is said to have been +carried out during the interval between Poggio's (see his <i>De Fort. +Var.</i>, ap. Sall., <i>Nov. Thes. Ant. Rom.</i>, 1735, i. 501, <i>sq.</i>) first and +second visits to Rome. (See Hobhouse's <i>Hist. Illust.</i>, pp. 202, 203; +<i>Handbook for Rome</i>, p. 360.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OB" id="Footnote_OB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OB"><span class="label">[ob]</span></a> <a id="Note_403" name="Note_403">{403}</a> <i>So massily begirt—what lay?</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OC" id="Footnote_OC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OC"><span class="label">[oc]</span></a> <a id="Note_404" name="Note_404">{404}</a> <i>Love from her duties—still a conqueress in the +war</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_481" id="Footnote_481"></a><a href="#FNanchor_481"><span class="label">[481]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span title="On oi(theoi\ philou~sin a)pothnê/skei ne/os">Ον οἱ θεοὶ φιλοῦσιν ἀποθνήσκει νέος</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span title="To\ ga\r thanei~n ou)ch ai)schro\n, a)ll' ai)schrô~s thanei~n">Τὸ γὰρ θανεῖν οὐχ αἰσχρὸν, ἀλλ' αἰσχρῶς θανεῖν</span>.<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Gnomici Poetæ Græci</i>, R. F. P. Brunck, 1784, p. 231.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_482" id="Footnote_482"></a><a href="#FNanchor_482"><span class="label">[482]</span></a> <a id="Note_405" name="Note_405">{405}</a> ["It is more likely to have been the pride than the +love of Crassus which raised so superb a memorial to a wife whose name +is not mentioned in history, unless she be supposed to be that lady +whose intimacy with Dolabella was so offensive to Tullia, the daughter +of Cicero, or she who was divorced by Lentulus Spinther, or she, perhaps +the same person, from whose ear the son of Æsopus transferred a precious +jewel to enrich his daughter (<i>vide</i> Hor., <i>Sat.</i>, ii. 3. 239)" (<i>Hist. +Illust.</i>, p. 200). The wealth of Crassus was proverbial, as his +<i>agnomen</i>, Dives, testifies (Plut., <i>Crassus</i>, ii., iii., Lipsiæ, 1813, +v. 156, <i>sq.</i>).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OD" id="Footnote_OD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OD"><span class="label">[od]</span></a> <a id="Note_406" name="Note_406">{406}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Till I had called forth even from the mind</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">——<i>with heated mind</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OE" id="Footnote_OE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OE"><span class="label">[oe]</span></a> <i>I have no home</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_483" id="Footnote_483"></a><a href="#FNanchor_483"><span class="label">[483]</span></a> <a id="Note_407" name="Note_407">{407}</a> [Compare Rogers's <i>Italy:</i> "Rome" (<i>Poems</i>, 1852), +ii. 169— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i16">"Or climb the Palatine,<br /></span> +<hr /> +<span class="i0">Long while the seat of Rome, hereafter found<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Less than enough (so monstrous was the brood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Engendered there, so Titan-like) to lodge<br /></span> +<span class="i0">One in his madness; and inscribe my name—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My name and date, on some broad aloe-leaf<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That shoots and spreads within those very walls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Where Virgil read aloud his tale divine,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his voice faltered and a mother wept<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tears of delight!"[*]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +And compare Shelley's <i>Poetical Works</i>, 1895, iii. 276— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Rome has fallen; ye see it lying<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Heaped in undistinguished ruin:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nature is alone undying."]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +[*] [At the words <i>Tu Marcellus eris, etc</i>. (<i>vide</i> Tib. Cl. Donatus, +<i>Life of Virgil</i> (Virg., <i>Opera</i>), Leeuwarden, 1627, vol. i.).] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OF" id="Footnote_OF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OF"><span class="label">[of]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i14">——<i>wherein have creeped</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>The Reptiles which</i>.——<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>Scorpion and blindworm</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_484" id="Footnote_484"></a><a href="#FNanchor_484"><span class="label">[484]</span></a> The Palatine is one mass of ruins, particularly on the +side towards the Circus Maximus. The very soil is formed of crumbled +brickwork. Nothing has been told—nothing can be told—to satisfy the +belief of any but the Roman antiquary. [The Palatine was the site of the +successive "Domus" of Augustus, Tiberius, and Caligula, and of the +<i>Domus Transitoria</i> of Nero, which perished when Rome was burnt. Later +emperors—Vespasian, Domitian, Septimius Severus—added to the splendour +of the name-giving Palatine. "The troops of Genseric," says Hobhouse +(<i>Hist. Illust.</i>, p. 206), "occupied the Palatine, and despoiled it of +all its riches... and when it again rises, it rises in ruins." +Systematic excavations during the last fifty years have laid bare much +that was hidden, and "learning and research" have in parts revealed the +"obliterated plan;" but, in 1817, the "shapeless mass of ruins" defied +the guesses of antiquarians. "Your walks in the Palatine ruins ... will +be undisturbed, unless you startle a fox in breaking through the +brambles in the corridors, or burst unawares through the hole of some +shivered fragments into one of the half-buried chambers, which the +peasants have blocked up to serve as stalls for their jackasses, or as +huts for those who watch the gardens" (<i>Hist. Illust.</i>, p. 212).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_485" id="Footnote_485"></a><a href="#FNanchor_485"><span class="label">[485]</span></a> <a id="Note_408" name="Note_408">{408}</a> The author of the <i>Life of Cicero</i>, speaking of the +opinion entertained of Britain by that orator and his contemporary +Romans, has the following eloquent passage:—"From their railleries of +this kind, on the barbarity and misery of our island, one cannot help +reflecting on the surprising fate and revolutions of kingdoms; how Rome, +once the mistress of the world, the seat of arts, empire, and glory, now +lies sunk in sloth, ignorance, and poverty; enslaved to the most cruel +as well as to the most contemptible of tyrants, superstition and +religious imposture; while this remote country, anciently the jest and +contempt of the polite Romans, is become the happy seat of liberty, +plenty, and letters; flourishing in all the arts and refinements of +civil life; yet running, perhaps, the same course which Rome itself had +run before it, from virtuous industry to wealth; from wealth to luxury; +from luxury to an impatience of discipline and corruption of morals: +till, by a total degeneracy and loss of virtue, being grown ripe for +destruction, it fall a prey at last to some hardy oppressor, and, with +the loss of liberty, losing everything that is valuable, sinks gradually +again into its original barbarism." (See <i>Life of M. Tullius Cicero</i>, by +Conyers Middleton, D.D., 1823, sect. vi. vol. i. pp. 399, 400.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OG" id="Footnote_OG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OG"><span class="label">[og]</span></a> <a id="Note_409" name="Note_409">{409}</a> <i>Oh, ho, ho, ho—thou creature of a Man</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OH" id="Footnote_OH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OH"><span class="label">[oh]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>And show of Glory's gewgaws in the van</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the Sun's rays with flames more dazzling filled</i>.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_486" id="Footnote_486"></a><a href="#FNanchor_486"><span class="label">[486]</span></a> [The "golden roofs" were those of Nero's <i>Domus Aurea</i>, +which extended from the north-west corner of the Palatine to the Gardens +of Mæcenas, on the Esquiline, spreading over the sites of the Temple of +Vesta and Rome on the platform of the Velia, the Colosseum, and the +Thermæ of Titus, as far as the Sette Sale. "In the fore court was the +colossal statue of Nero. The pillars of the colonnade, which measured a +thousand feet in length, stood three deep. All that was not lake, or +wood, or vineyard, or pasture, was overlaid with plates of gold, picked +out with gems and mother-of-pearl" (Suetonius, vi. 31; Tacitus, <i>Ann.</i>, +xv. 42). Substructions of the <i>Domus Aurea</i> have been discovered on the +site of the Baths of Titus and elsewhere, but not on the Palatine +itself. Martial, <i>Epig.</i> 695 (<i>Lib. Spect.</i>, ii.), celebrates +Vespasian's restitution of the <i>Domus Aurea</i> and its "policies" to the +people of Rome. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hic ubi sidereus propius videt astra colossus<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Et crescunt media pegmata celsa via,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Invidiosa feri radiabant atria regis<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Unaque jam tola stabat in urbe domus."<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Here where the Sun-god greets the Morning Star,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And tow'ring scaffolds block the public way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fell Nero's loathed pavilion flashed afar,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Erect and splendid 'mid the town's decay."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_487" id="Footnote_487"></a><a href="#FNanchor_487"><span class="label">[487]</span></a> <a id="Note_410" name="Note_410">{410}</a> [By the "nameless" column Byron means the column of +Phocas, in the Forum. But, as he may have known, it had ceased to be +nameless when he visited Rome in 1817. During some excavations which +were carried out under the auspices of the Duchess of Devonshire, in +1813, the soil which concealed the base was removed, and an inscription, +which attributes the erection of the column to the Exarch Smaragdus, in +honour of the Emperor Phocas, A.D. 608, was brought to light. The column +was originally surmounted by a gilded statue, but it is probable that +both column and statue were stolen from earlier structures and +rededicated to Phocas. Hobhouse (<i>Hist. Illust.</i>, pp. 240-242) records +the discovery, and prints the inscription <i>in extenso.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OI" id="Footnote_OI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OI"><span class="label">[oi]</span></a> ——<i>all he doth deface</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_488" id="Footnote_488"></a><a href="#FNanchor_488"><span class="label">[488]</span></a> The column of Trajan is surmounted by St. Peter; that of +Aurelius by St. Paul. (See <i>Hist. Illust.</i>, p. 214.) +</p><p> +[The column was excavated by Paul III. in the sixteenth century. In 1588 +Sixtus V. replaced the bronze statue of Trajan holding a gilded globe, +which had originally surmounted the column, by a statue of St. Peter, in +gilt bronze. The legend was that Trajan's ashes were contained in the +globe. They are said to have been deposited by Hadrian in a golden urn +in a vault under the column. It is certain that when Sixtus V. opened +the chamber he found it empty. A medal was cast in honour of the +erection of the new statue, inscribed with the words of the Magnificat, +"<i>Exaltavit humiles</i>."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_489" id="Footnote_489"></a><a href="#FNanchor_489"><span class="label">[489]</span></a> <a id="Note_411" name="Note_411">{411}</a> Trajan was <i>proverbially</i> the best of the Roman +princes; and it would be easier to find a sovereign uniting exactly the +opposite characteristics, than one possessed of all the happy qualities +ascribed to this emperor. "When he mounted the throne," says the +historian Dion, "he was strong in body, he was vigorous in mind; age had +impaired none of his faculties; he was altogether free from envy and +from detraction; he honoured all the good, and he advanced them: and on +this account they could not be the objects of his fear, or of his hate; +he never listened to informers; he gave not way to his anger; he +abstained equally from unfair exactions and unjust punishments; he had +rather be loved as a man than honoured as a sovereign; he was affable +with his people, respectful to the senate, and universally beloved by +both; he inspired none with dread but the enemies of his country." (See +Eutrop., <i>Hist. Rom. Brev.</i> lib. viii. cap. v.; Dion, <i>Hist. Rom.</i>, lib. +lxiii. caps, vi., vii.) +</p><p> +[M. Ulpius Trajanus (A.D. 52-117) celebrated a triumph over the Dacians +in 103 and 106. It is supposed that the column which stands at the north +end of the Forum Trajanum commemorated the Dacian victories. In 115-16 +he conquered the Parthians, and added the province of Armenia Minor to +the empire. It was not, however, an absolute or a final victory. The +little desert stronghold of Atræ, or Hatra, in Mesopotamia, remained +uncaptured; and, instead of incorporating the Parthians in the empire, +he thought it wiser to leave them to be governed by a native prince +under the suzerainty of Rome. His conquests were surrendered by Hadrian, +and henceforth the tide of victory began to ebb. He died on his way back +to Rome, at Selinus, in Cilicia, in August, 117. +</p><p> +Trajan's "moderation was known unto all men." Pliny, in his +<i>Panegyricus</i> (xxii.), describes his first entry into Rome. He might +have assumed the state of a monarch or popular hero, but he walked +afoot, conspicuous, pre-eminent, a head and shoulders above the crowd—a +triumphal entry; but it was imperial arrogance, not civil liberty, over +which he triumphed. "You were our king," he says, "and we your subjects; +but we obeyed you as the embodiment of our laws." Martial (<i>Epig.</i>, x. +72) hails him not as a tyrant, but an emperor—yea, more than an +emperor—as the most righteous of lawgivers and senators, who had +brought back plain Truth to the light of day; and Claudian (viii. 318) +maintains that his glory will live, not because the Parthians had been +annexed, but because he was "mitis patriæ." The divine honours which he +caused to be paid to his adopted father, Nerva, he refused for himself. +"For just reasons," says Pliny, "did the Senate and people of Rome +assign thee the name and title of Optimus." Another honour awaited him: +"Il est seul Empereur," writes M. De La Berge, "dont les restes aient +reposé dans l'enceinte de la ville Eternelle." (See Pliny's +<i>Panegyricus, passim;</i> and <i>Essai sur le règne de Trajan</i>, Bibliothèque +de L'Ecole des Hautes Études, Paris, 1877.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_490" id="Footnote_490"></a><a href="#FNanchor_490"><span class="label">[490]</span></a> <a id="Note_412" name="Note_412">{412}</a> [The archæologists of Byron's day were unable to +fix the exact site of the temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus on the +Capitoline. "On which side," asks Hobhouse (<i>Hist. Illust.</i>, p. 224), +"stood the citadel, on what the great temple of the Capitol; and did the +temple stand in the citadel?" Excavations which were carried on in +1876-7 by Professors Jordan and Lanciani enabled them to identify with +"tolerable certainty" the site of the central temple and its adjacent +wings, with the site of the Palazzo Caffarelli and its dependencies +which occupy the south-east section of the Mons Capitolinus. There are +still, however, rival Tarpeian Rocks—one (in the Vicolo della Rupe +Tarpea) on the western edge of the hill facing the Tiber, and the other +(near the Casa Tarpea) on the south-east towards the Palatine. But if +Dionysius, who describes the "Traitor's Leap" as being in sight of the +Forum, is to be credited, the "actual precipice" from which traitors +(and other criminals, e.g. "bearers of false witness") were thrown must +have been somewhere on the southern and now less precipitous escarpment +of the mount.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OJ" id="Footnote_OJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OJ"><span class="label">[oj]</span></a> <a id="Note_413" name="Note_413">{413}</a> <i>The State Leucadia</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_491" id="Footnote_491"></a><a href="#FNanchor_491"><span class="label">[491]</span></a> [M. Manlius, who saved the Capitol from the Gauls in B.C. +390, was afterwards (B.C. 384) arraigned on a charge of high treason by +the patricians, condemned, and by order of the tribunes thrown down the +Tarpeian Rock. Livy (vi. 20) credits him with a "foeda cupiditas +regni"—a "depraved ambition for assuming the kingly power."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OK" id="Footnote_OK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OK"><span class="label">[ok]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>There first did Tully's burning accents glow?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Yes—eloquently still—the echoes tell me so</i>.—[D.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_492" id="Footnote_492"></a><a href="#FNanchor_492"><span class="label">[492]</span></a> [Compare Gray's <i>Odes</i>, "The Progress of Poesy," iii. 3, +line 4—"Thoughts that breathe, and words that burn."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_493" id="Footnote_493"></a><a href="#FNanchor_493"><span class="label">[493]</span></a> <a id="Note_414" name="Note_414">{414}</a> [Nicolas Gabrino di' Rienzo, or Rienzi, commonly +called Cola di' Rienzi, was born in 1313. The son of a Roman innkeeper, +he owed his name and fame to his own talents and natural gifts. His +mission, or, perhaps, ambition, was to free Rome from the tyranny and +oppression of the great nobles, and to establish once more "the good +estate," that is, a republic. This for a brief period Rienzi +accomplished. On May 20, 1347, he was proclaimed tribune and liberator +of the Holy Roman Republic "by the authority of the most merciful Lord +Jesus Christ." Of great parts, and inspired by lofty aims, he was a poor +creature at heart—a "bastard" Napoleon—and success seems to have +turned his head. After eight months of royal splendour, purchased by +more than royal exactions, the tide of popular feeling turned against +him, and he was forced to take refuge in the Castle of St. Angelo +(December 15, 1347). Years of wandering and captivity followed his first +tribunate; but at length, in 1354, he was permitted to return to Rome, +and, once again, after a rapid and successful reduction of the +neighbouring states, he became the chief power in the state. But an act +of violence, accompanied by treachery, and, above all, the necessity of +imposing heavier taxes than the city could bear, roused popular +discontent; and during a revolt (October 8, 1354), after a dastardly +attempt to escape and conceal himself, he was recognized by the crowd +and stabbed to death. +</p><p> +Petrarch first made his acquaintance in 1340, when he was summoned to +Rome to be crowned as poet laureate. Afterwards, when Rienzi was +imprisoned at Avignon, Petrarch interceded on his behalf with the pope, +but, for a time, in vain. He believed in and shared his enthusiasms; and +it is probable that the famous Canzone, "Spirto gentil, che quelle +membra reggi," was addressed to the Last of the Tribunes. +</p><p> +Rienzi's story forms the subject of a tragedy by Gustave Drouineau, +which was played at the Odéon, January 28, 1826; of Bulwer Lytton's +novel <i>The Last of the Tribunes</i>, which was published in 1835; and of an +opera (1842) by Richard Wagner. +</p><p> +(See <i>Encyc. Met.</i>, art. "Rome," by Professor Villari; La Rousse, <i>G. +Dict. Univ.</i>, art. "Rienzi;" and a curious pamphlet by G. W. Meadley, +London, 1821, entitled <i>Two Pairs of Historical Portraits</i>, in which an +attempt is made to trace a minute resemblance between the characters and +careers of Rienzi and the First Napoleon.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_494" id="Footnote_494"></a><a href="#FNanchor_494"><span class="label">[494]</span></a> <a id="Note_415" name="Note_415">{415}</a> [The word "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. Compare stanza cxxii. line 7—"The unreached +Paradise of our despair." Compare, too, <i>Kubla Khan</i>, lines 52, 53— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"For he on honey-dew hath fed,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And drunk the milk of Paradise."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OL" id="Footnote_OL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OL"><span class="label">[ol]</span></a> <i>The lovely madness of some fond despair</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_495" id="Footnote_495"></a><a href="#FNanchor_495"><span class="label">[495]</span></a> <a id="Note_416" name="Note_416">{416}</a> [Byron is describing the so-called Grotto of +Egeria, which is situated a little to the left of the Via Appia, about +two miles to the south-east of the Porta di Sebastiano: "Here, beside +the Almo rivulet [now the Maranna d. Caffarella], is a ruined nymphæum +... which was called the 'Grotto of Egeria,' till ... the discovery of +the true site of the Porta Capena fixed that of the grotto within the +walls.... It is now known that this nymphæum ... belonged to the +suburban villa called Triopio of Herodes Atticus." The actual site of +Egeria's fountain is in the grounds of the Villa Mattei, to the +south-east of the Cælian, and near the Porta Metronia. "It was buried, +in 1867, by the military engineers, while building their new hospital +near S. Stefano Rotondo" (Prof. Lanciani). +</p><p> +In lines 5-9 Byron is recalling Juvenal's description of the valley of +Egeria, under the mistaken impression that here, and not by "dripping +Capena," was the trysting-place of Numa and the goddess. Juvenal has +accompanied the seer Umbritius, who was leaving Rome for Capua, as far +as the Porta Capena; and while the one waggon, with its slender store of +goods, is being loaded, the friends take a stroll— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"In vallem Egeriæ; descendimus et speluncas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dissimiles veris. Quanto præstantius esset<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Numen aquæ, viridi si margine clauderet undas<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Herba, nec ingenuum violarent marmora tophum?"<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Sat.</i> I. iii. 17-20. +</p><p> +The grove and shrine of the sacred fountain, which had been let to the +Jews (lines 13-16), are not to be confounded with the "artificial +caverns" near Herod's Nymphæum, which Juvenal thought were in bad taste, +and Byron rejoiced to find reclaimed and reclothed by Nature.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_496" id="Footnote_496"></a><a href="#FNanchor_496"><span class="label">[496]</span></a> <a id="Note_417" name="Note_417">{417}</a> [Compare Shelley's <i>Prometheus Unbound</i>, act iv. +(<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1893, ii. 97)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"As a violet's gentle eye<br /></span> +<span class="i8">Gazes on the azure sky<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Until its hue grows like what it beholds."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_497" id="Footnote_497"></a><a href="#FNanchor_497"><span class="label">[497]</span></a> <a id="Note_418" name="Note_418">{418}</a> [Compare <i>Kubla Khan</i>, lines 12, 13— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_498" id="Footnote_498"></a><a href="#FNanchor_498"><span class="label">[498]</span></a> [Compare <i>Hamlet</i>, act ii. sc. 1, line 292—"This most +excellent canopy the Air."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OM" id="Footnote_OM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OM"><span class="label">[om]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>Feel the quick throbbing of a human heart</i><br /></span> +<span class="i3"><i>And the sweet sorrows of its deathless dying</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>And the sweet sorrow which exults in dying</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_ON" id="Footnote_ON"></a><a href="#FNanchor_ON"><span class="label">[on]</span></a> <a id="Note_419" name="Note_419">{419}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Oh Love! thou art no habitant of Earth</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>An unseen Seraph we believe in thee</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And can point out thy time and place of birth</i>.—[D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_499" id="Footnote_499"></a><a href="#FNanchor_499"><span class="label">[499]</span></a> [M. Darmesteter traces the sentiment to a maxim (No. 76) +of La Rochefoucauld: "Il est du véritable amour comme de l'apparition +des esprits: tout le monde en parle, mais pen de gens en out vu."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_500" id="Footnote_500"></a><a href="#FNanchor_500"><span class="label">[500]</span></a> <a id="Note_420" name="Note_420">{420}</a> [Compare Dryden on Shaftesbury (<i>Absalom and +Achitophel</i>, pt. i. lines 156-158)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A fiery soul which, working out its way,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fretted the pigmy-body to decay,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And o'er-informed the tenement of clay."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_501" id="Footnote_501"></a><a href="#FNanchor_501"><span class="label">[501]</span></a> [The Romans had more than one proverb to this effect; +e.g. "Amantes Amentes sunt" (<i>Adagia Veterum</i>, 1643, p. 52); "Amare et +sapere vix Deo conceditur" (Syri <i>Sententiæ</i>. 1818, p. 5).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OO" id="Footnote_OO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OO"><span class="label">[oo]</span></a> <a id="Note_421" name="Note_421">{421}</a> <i>For all are visions with a separate name</i>.—[D. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_502" id="Footnote_502"></a><a href="#FNanchor_502"><span class="label">[502]</span></a> [Circumstance is personified as halting Nemesis—"Pede +poena claudo." Hor., <i>Odes</i>, III. ii. 32. +</p><p> +Perhaps, too, there is the underlying thought of his own lameness, of +Mary Chaworth, and of all that might have been, if the "unspiritual God" +had willed otherwise.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_503" id="Footnote_503"></a><a href="#FNanchor_503"><span class="label">[503]</span></a> <a id="Note_422" name="Note_422">{422}</a> [Compare Milton's <i>Samson Agonistes</i>, lines +617-621— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"My griefs not only pain me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As a lingering disease,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But, finding no redress, ferment and rage;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nor less than wounds immedicable<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rankle."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_504" id="Footnote_504"></a><a href="#FNanchor_504"><span class="label">[504]</span></a> "At all events," says the author of the <i>Academical +Questions</i> [Sir William Drummond], "I trust, whatever may be the fate of +my own speculations, that philosophy will regain that estimation which +it ought to possess. The free and philosophic spirit of our nation has +been the theme of admiration to the world. This was the proud +distinction of Englishmen, and the luminous source of all their glory. +Shall we then forget the manly and dignified sentiments of our +ancestors, to prate in the language of the mother or the nurse about our +good old prejudices? This is not the way to defend the cause of truth. +It was not thus that our fathers maintained it in the brilliant periods +of our history. Prejudice may be trusted to guard the outworks for a +short space of time, while reason slumbers in the citadel; but if the +latter sink into a lethargy, the former will quickly erect a standard +for herself. Philosophy, wisdom, and liberty support each other: he, who +will not reason, is a bigot; he, who cannot, is a fool; and he, who +dares not, is a slave."—Vol. i. pp. xiv., xv. +</p><p> +[For Sir William Drummond (1770-1828), see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, ii. 79, note +3. Byron advised Lady Blessington to read <i>Academical Questions</i> (1805), +and instanced the last sentence of this passage "as one of the best in +our language" (<i>Conversations</i>, pp. 238, 239).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_505" id="Footnote_505"></a><a href="#FNanchor_505"><span class="label">[505]</span></a> <a id="Note_423" name="Note_423">{423}</a> [Compare <i>Macbeth</i>, act iii. sc. 4, lines 24, 25— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But now I am cabin'd, cribb'd, confin'd, bound in<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To saucy doubts and fears."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_506" id="Footnote_506"></a><a href="#FNanchor_506"><span class="label">[506]</span></a> [Compare <i>The Deformed Transformed</i>, act i. sc. 2, lines +49, 50— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"Those scarce mortal arches,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Pile above pile of everlasting wall."<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +The first, second, and third stories of the Flavian amphitheatre or +Colosseum were built upon arches. Between the arches, eighty to each +story or tier, stood three-quarter columns. "Each tier is of a different +order of architecture, the lowest being a plain Roman Doric, or perhaps, +rather, Tuscan, the next Ionic, and the third Corinthian." The fourth +story, which was built by the Emperor Gordianus III., A.D. 244, to take +the place of the original wooden gallery (<i>manianum summum in ligneis</i>), +which was destroyed by lightning, A.D. 217, was a solid wall faced with +Corinthian pilasters, and pierced by forty square windows or openings. +It has been conjectured that the alternate spaces between the pilasters +were decorated with ornamental metal shields. The openings of the outer +arches of the second and third stories were probably decorated with +statues. The reverse of an <i>aureus</i> of the reign of Titus represents the +Colosseum with these statues and a quadriga in the centre. About +one-third of the original structure remains <i>in situ</i>. The prime agent +of destruction was probably the earthquake ("Petrarch's earthquake") of +September, 1349, when the whole of the western side fell towards the +Cælian, and gave rise to a hill or rather to a chain of hills of loose +blocks of travertine and tufa, which supplied Rome with building +materials for subsequent centuries. As an instance of wholesale +spoliation or appropriation, Professor Lanciani refers to "a document +published by Müntz, in the <i>Revue Arch.</i>, September, 1876," which +"certifies that one contractor alone, in the space of only nine months, +in 1452, could carry off 2522 cartloads" of travertine (Smith's <i>Dict. +of Gr. and Rom. Ant.</i>, art. "Amphitheatrum;" <i>Ruins and Excavations of +Ancient Rome</i>, by R. Lanciani, 1897, p. 375).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_507" id="Footnote_507"></a><a href="#FNanchor_507"><span class="label">[507]</span></a> <a id="Note_424" name="Note_424">{424}</a> [For a description of the Colosseum by moonlight, +see Goethe's letter from Rome, February 2, 1787 (<i>Travels in Italy</i>, +1883, p. 159): "Of the beauty of a walk through Rome by moonlight, it is +impossible to form a conception ... Peculiarly beautiful at such a time +is the Coliseum." See, too, <i>Corinne, ou L'Italie</i>, xv. 4, 1819, iii. +32— +</p><p> +"Ce n'est pas connaítre l'impression du Colisée que de ne l'avoir vu que +de jour ... la lune est l'astre des ruines. Quelque fois, à travers les +ouvertures de l'amphithéàtre, qui semble s'élever jusqu'aux nues, une +partie de la voûte du ciel paraît comme un rideau d'un bleu sombre placé +derrière l'édifice." +</p><p> +For a fine description of the Colosseum by starlight, see <i>Manfred</i>, act +iii. sc. 4, lines 8-13.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_508" id="Footnote_508"></a><a href="#FNanchor_508"><span class="label">[508]</span></a> <a id="Note_425" name="Note_425">{425}</a> [When Byron visited Rome, and for long afterwards, +the ruins of the Colosseum were clad with a multitude of shrubs and wild +flowers. Books were written on the "Flora of the Coliseum," which were +said to number 420 species. But, says Professor Lanciani, "These +materials for a <i>hortus siccus</i>, so dear to the visitors of our ruins, +were destroyed by Rosa in 1871, and the ruins scraped and shaven clean, +it being feared by him that the action of roots would accelerate the +disintegration of the great structure." If Byron had lived to witness +these activities, he might have devoted a stanza to the "tender mercies" +of this zealous archæologist.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_509" id="Footnote_509"></a><a href="#FNanchor_509"><span class="label">[509]</span></a> +<a id="Note_426" name="Note_426">{426}</a> [The whole of this appeal to Nemesis (stanzas +cxxx.-cxxxviii.) must be compared with the "Domestic Poems" of 1816, the +Third Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i> (especially stanzas lxix.-lxxv., and +cxi.-cxviii.), and with the "Invocation" in the first act of <i>Manfred</i>. +It has been argued that Byron inserted these stanzas with the deliberate +purpose of diverting sympathy from his wife to himself. The appeal, no +doubt, is deliberate, and the plea is followed by an indictment, but the +sincerity of the appeal is attested by its inconsistency. Unlike +Orestes, who slew his mother to avenge his father, he will not so deal +with the "moral Clytemnestra of her lord," requiting murder by murder, +but is resolved to leave the balancing of the scale to the omnipotent +Time-spirit who rights every wrong and will redress his injuries. But in +making answer to his accusers he outruns Nemesis, and himself enacts the +part of a "moral" Orestes. It was true that his hopes were "sapped" and +"his name blighted," and it was natural, if not heroic, first to +persuade himself that his suffering exceeded his fault, that he was more +sinned against than sinning, and, so persuaded, to take care that he +should not suffer alone. The general purport of plea and indictment is +plain enough, but the exact interpretation of his phrases, the +appropriation of his dark sayings, belong rather to the biography of the +poet than to a commentary on his poems. (For Lady Byron's comment on the +"allusions" to herself in <i>Childe Harold</i>, +<i>vide ante</i>, <a href="#Footnote_353">p. 288, note 1</a>.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OP" id="Footnote_OP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OP"><span class="label">[op]</span></a> <a id="Note_427" name="Note_427">{427}</a> <i>Or for my fathers' faults</i>——-.-[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OQ" id="Footnote_OQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OQ"><span class="label">[oq]</span></a> +<a id="Note_428" name="Note_428">{428}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i26">'tis not that now<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And if my voice break forth—<span class="lineout">it is not that</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2">I shrink from what is suffered—let him speak<br /></span> +<span class="i17">decline upon my<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Who<span class="lineout" style="margin-left:6em;">humbler in</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">What</span> hath beheld <span class="lineout">me quiver on my</span> brow<br /></span> +<span class="i5">seen my mind's convulsion leave it <span class="lineout">blenched or</span> weak?<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Or <span class="lineout">my internal spirit changed or weak</span><br /></span> +<span class="i5"><span class="lineout">found my mind convulsed</span><br /></span> +<span class="i16">a<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But in this page <span class="lineout">the</span> record <span class="lineout">which</span> I seek<br /></span> +<span class="i24">will<br /></span> +<span class="i24"><span class="lineout">from out of the deep</span><br /></span> +<span class="i8"><span class="lineout">stands and</span> <span class="lineout">of that remorse</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">Shall stand and when that hour shall come and come</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">Shall come—though I be ashes—and shall pile heap</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">It will</span> <span class="lineout">come and wreak</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">In fire the measure</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">The fiery prophecy</span><br /></span> +<span class="i1"><span class="lineout">The fullness of my</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="lineout">The fullness of my prophecy or heap</span><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="lineout">The mountain of my curse</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Not in the air shall these my words disperse<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">'Tis written that an hour of deep remorse</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2">Though I be ashes <span class="lineout">a deep</span> far hour shall wreak<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><span class="lineout">The fullness Thee</span> <span style="margin-left:5em;">this</span><br /></span> +<span class="i2">The deep prophetic fullness of <span class="lineout">my</span> verse<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And pile on human heads the mountain of my curse.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OR" id="Footnote_OR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OR"><span class="label">[or]</span></a> <a id="Note_429" name="Note_429">{429}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>If to forgive be "heaping coals of Fire"</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>As God hath spoken—on the heads of foes</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Mine should lie a Volcano-and rise higher</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Than o'er the Titans crushed Olympus rose</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Than Athos soars, or blazing Ætna glows:</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>True—they who stung were petty things—but what</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Than serpent's sting produce more deadly throes.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The Lion may be tortured by the Gnat</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who <i>sucks the slumberer's blood—the Eagle? no, the Bat</i>.<a href="#or_A">[A]</a>—<br /></span> +<span class="i42">[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +<a id="or_A">[A]</a> [The "Bat" was "a sobriquet by which Lady Caroline Lamb was well +known in London society." An Italian translation of her novel, +<i>Glenarvon</i>, was at this time in the press at Venice (see letter to +Murray, August 7, 1817), and it is probable that Byron, who declined to +interdict its publication, took his revenge in a petulant stanza, which, +on second thoughts, he decided to omit. (See note by Mr. Richard +Edgcumbe, <i>Notes and Queries</i> eighth series, 1895, viii. 101.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_510" id="Footnote_510"></a><a href="#FNanchor_510"><span class="label">[510]</span></a> [Compare "Lines on hearing that Lady Byron was ill," +lines 53-55.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_511" id="Footnote_511"></a><a href="#FNanchor_511"><span class="label">[511]</span></a> <a id="Note_431" name="Note_431">{431}</a> Whether the wonderful statue which suggested this +image be a laquearian gladiator, which, in spite of Winckelmann's +criticism, has been stoutly maintained; or whether it be a Greek herald, +as that great antiquary positively asserted;<a href="#F511_A">[A]</a> or whether it is to be +thought a Spartan or barbarian shieldbearer, according to the opinion of +his Italian editor; it must assuredly seem <i>a copy</i> of that masterpiece +of Ctesilaus which represented "a wounded man dying, who perfectly +expressed what there remained of life in him." Montfaucon and Maffei +thought it the identical statue; but that statue was of bronze. The +Gladiator was once in the Villa Ludovisi, and was bought by Clement XII. +The right arm is an entire restoration of Michael Angelo. +</p><p> +[There is no doubt that the statue of the "Dying Gladiator" represents a +dying Gaul. It is to be compared with the once-named "Arria and Pætus" +of the Villa Ludovisi, and with other sculptures in the museums of +Venice, Naples, and Rome, representing "Gauls and Amazons lying fatally +wounded, or still in the attitude of defending life to the last," which +belong to the Pergamene school of the second century B.C. M. Collignon +hazards a suggestion that the "Dying Gaul" is the trumpet-sounder of +Epigonos, in which, says Pliny (<i>Hist. Nat.</i>, xxxiv. 88), the sculptor +surpassed all his previous works ("omnia fere prædicta imitatus +præcessit in tubicine"); while Dr. H. S. Urlichs (see <i>The Elder Pliny's +Chapters on the History of Art</i>, translated by K. Jex-Blake, with +Commentary and Historical Illustrations, by E. Sellers, 1896, p. 74, +note) falls back on Winckelmann's theory that the "statue ... may have +been simply the votive-portrait of the winner in the contest of heralds, +such as that of Archias of Hybla in Delphoi." (See, too, Helbig's <i>Guide +to the Collection of Public Antiquities in Rome</i>, Engl. transl., 1895. +i. 399; <i>History of Greek Sculpture</i>, by A. S. Murray, L.L.D., F.S.A., +1890, ii. 381-383.)] +</p><p> +<a id="F511_A">[A]</a> Either Polyphontes, herald of Laïus, killed by Oedipus; or Kopreas, +herald of Eurystheus, killed by the Athenians when he endeavoured to +drag the Heraclidæ from the altar of mercy, and in whose honour they +instituted annual games, continued to the time of Hadrian; or +Anthemocritus, the Athenian herald, killed by the Megarenses, who never +recovered the impiety. [See <i>Hist, of Ancient Art</i>, translated by G. H. +Lodge, 1881, ii. 207.] </p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OS" id="Footnote_OS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OS"><span class="label">[os]</span></a> Leaning upon his hand, his mut[e] brow Yielding to death +but conquering agony.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OT" id="Footnote_OT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OT"><span class="label">[ot]</span></a> <a id="Note_432" name="Note_432">{432}</a> <i>From the red gash fall bigly</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OU" id="Footnote_OU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OU"><span class="label">[ou]</span></a> <i>Like the last of a thunder-shower</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OV" id="Footnote_OV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OV"><span class="label">[ov]</span></a> <i>The earth swims round him</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OW" id="Footnote_OW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OW"><span class="label">[ow]</span></a> <a id="Note_433" name="Note_433">{433}</a> <i>Slaughtered to make a Roman holiday</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OX" id="Footnote_OX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OX"><span class="label">[ox]</span></a> <i>Was death and life</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OY" id="Footnote_OY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OY"><span class="label">[oy]</span></a> <i>My voice is much</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_OZ" id="Footnote_OZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_OZ"><span class="label">[oz]</span></a> <i>Yet the colossal skeleton ye pass</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PA" id="Footnote_PA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PA"><span class="label">[pa]</span></a> <a id="Note_434" name="Note_434">{434}</a> <i>The ivy-forest, which its walls doth wear</i>.—[MS. +M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_512" id="Footnote_512"></a><a href="#FNanchor_512"><span class="label">[512]</span></a> Suetonius [Lib. i. cap. xlv.] informs us that Julius +Cæsar 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 conqueror of the world, but to hide that he +was bald. A stranger at Rome would hardly have guessed at the motive, +nor should we without the help of the historian.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PB" id="Footnote_PB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PB"><span class="label">[pb]</span></a> <i>The Hero race who trod—the imperial dust ye +tread</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_513" id="Footnote_513"></a><a href="#FNanchor_513"><span class="label">[513]</span></a> This is quoted in the <i>Decline and Fall of the Roman +Empire</i>, as a proof that the Coliseum was entire, when seen by the +Anglo-Saxon pilgrims at the end of the seventh, or the beginning of the +eighth, century. A notice on the Coliseum may be seen in the <i>Historical +Illustrations</i>, p. 263. +</p><p> +["'Quamdiu stabit Colyseus, stabit et Roma; quando cadet Colyseus, cadet +Roma; quando cadet Roma, cadet et mundus.' (Beda in 'Excerptis seu +Collectaneis,' apud Ducange, <i>Glossarium ad Scriptores Med., et Infimæ +Latinitatis</i>, tom. ii. p. 407, edit. Basil.) This saying must be +ascribed to the Anglo-Saxon pilgrims who visited Rome before the year +735, the æra of Bede's death; for I do not believe that our venerable +monk ever passed the sea."—Gibbon's <i>Decline and Fall of the Roman +Empire</i>, 1855, viii. 281, note.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_514" id="Footnote_514"></a><a href="#FNanchor_514"><span class="label">[514]</span></a> <a id="Note_435" name="Note_435">{435}</a> "Though plundered of all its brass, except the ring +which was necessary to preserve the aperture above; though exposed to +repeated fires; though sometimes flooded by the river, and always open +to the rain, no monument of equal antiquity is so well preserved as this +rotundo. It passed with little alteration from the Pagan into the +present worship; and so convenient were its niches for the Christian +altar, that Michael Angelo, ever studious of ancient beauty, introduced +their design as a model in the Catholic church."—Forsyth's <i>Italy</i>, +1816, p. 137. +</p><p> +[The Pantheon consists of two parts, a porch or <i>pronaos</i> supported by +sixteen Corinthian columns, and behind it, but "obviously disjointed +from it," a rotunda or round temple, 143 feet high, and 142 feet in +diameter. The inscription on the portico (M. AGRIPPA, L. F. Cos. +tertium. Fecit.) affirms that the temple was built by Agrippa (M. +Vipsanius), B.C. 27. +</p><p> +It has long been suspected that with regard to the existing building the +inscription was "historically and artistically misleading;" but it is +only since 1892 that it has been known for certain (from the stamp on +the bricks in various parts of the building) that the rotunda was built +by Hadrian. Difficulties with regard to the relations between the two +parts of the Pantheon remain unsolved, but on the following points +Professor Lanciani claims to speak with certainty:— +</p><p> +(1) "The present Pantheon, portico included, is not the work of Agrippa, +but of Hadrian, and dates from A.D. 120-124. +</p><p> +(2) "The columns, capital, and entablature of the portico, inscribed +with Agrippa's name, may be original, and may date from 27-25 B.C., but +they were first removed and then put together by Hadrian. +</p><p> +(3) "The original structure of Agrippa was rectangular instead of round, +and faced the south instead of the north."—<i>Ruins and Excavations, +etc.</i>, by R. Lanciani, 1897, p. 483.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PC" id="Footnote_PC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PC"><span class="label">[pc]</span></a> <a id="Note_436" name="Note_436">{436}</a> ——<i>the pride of proudest Rome</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_515" id="Footnote_515"></a><a href="#FNanchor_515"><span class="label">[515]</span></a> <a id="Note_437" name="Note_437">{437}</a> The Pantheon has been made a receptacle for the +busts of modern great, or, at least, distinguished men. The flood of +light which once fell through the large orb above on the whole circle of +divinities, now shines on a numerous assemblage of mortals, some one or +two of whom have been almost deified by the veneration of their +countrymen. +</p><p> +["The busts of Raphael, Hannibal Caracci, Pierrin del Vaga, Zuccari, and +others ... are ill assorted with the many modern contemporary heads of +ancient worthies which now glare in all the niches of the +Rotunda."—<i>Historical Illustrations</i>, p. 293.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_516" id="Footnote_516"></a><a href="#FNanchor_516"><span class="label">[516]</span></a> This and the three next stanzas allude to the story of +the Roman daughter, which is recalled to the traveller by the site, or +pretended site, of that adventure, now shown at the Church of St. +Nicholas <i>in Carcere</i>. The difficulties attending the full belief of the +tale are stated in <i>Historical Illustrations</i>, p. 295. +</p><p> +[The traditional scene of the "Caritas Romana" is a cell forming part of +the substructions of the Church of S. Nicola in Carcere, near the Piazza +Montanara. Festus (<i>De Verb. Signif.</i>, lib. xiv., A. J. Valpy, 1826, ii. +594), by way of illustrating Pietas, tells the story in a few words: "It +is said that Ælius dedicated a temple to Pietas on the very spot where a +woman dwelt of yore. Her father was shut up in prison, and she kept him +alive by giving him the breast by stealth, and, as a reward for her +deed, obtained his forgiveness and freedom." In Pliny (Hist. Nat., vii. +36) and in Valerius Maximus (V. 4) it is not a father, but a mother, +whose life is saved by a daughter's piety.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PD" id="Footnote_PD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PD"><span class="label">[pd]</span></a> <a id="Note_438" name="Note_438">{438}</a> <i>Two isolated phantoms</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PE" id="Footnote_PE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PE"><span class="label">[pe]</span></a> <i>With her unkerchiefed neck</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PF" id="Footnote_PF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PF"><span class="label">[pf]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>Or even the shrill impatient</i> [<i>cries that brook</i>].<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>Or even the shrill small cry</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PG" id="Footnote_PG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PG"><span class="label">[pg]</span></a> <i>No waiting silence or suspense</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_517" id="Footnote_517"></a><a href="#FNanchor_517"><span class="label">[517]</span></a> <a id="Note_439" name="Note_439">{439}</a> [It was fabled of the Milky Way that when Mercury +held up the infant Hercules to Juno's breast, that he might drink in +divinity, the goddess pushed him away, and that drops of milk fell into +the void, and became a multitude of tiny stars. The story is told by +Eratosthenes of Cyrene (B.C. 276), in his <i>Catasterismi</i> (Treatise on +Star Legends), No. 44: <i>Opusc. Mythol.</i>, Amsterdam, 1688, p. 136.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PH" id="Footnote_PH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PH"><span class="label">[ph]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>To its original fountain but repierce</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Thy sire's heart</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_518" id="Footnote_518"></a><a href="#FNanchor_518"><span class="label">[518]</span></a> The castle of St. Angelo. (See <i>Historical +Illustrations.</i>) +</p><p> +[Hadrian's mole or mausoleum, now the Castle of St. Angelo, is situated +on the banks of the Tiber, on the site of the "Horti Neronis." "It is +composed of a square basement, each side of which measures 247 feet.... +A grand circular mole, nearly 1000 feet in circumference, stands on the +square basement," and, originally, "supported in its turn a cone of +earth covered with evergreens, like the mausoleum of Augustus." A spiral +way led to a central chamber in the interior of the mole, which +contained, presumably, the porphyry sarcophagus in which Antoninus Pius +deposited the ashes of Hadrian, and the tomb of the Antonines. Honorius +(A.D. 428) was probably the first to convert the mausoleum into a +fortress. The bronze statue of the Destroying Angel, which is placed on +the summit, dates from 1740, and is the successor to five earlier +statues, of which the first was erected in 1453. The conception and +execution of the Moles Hadriana are entirely Roman, and, except in size +and solidity, it is in no sense a mimic pyramid.—<i>Ruins and +Excavations, etc.</i>, by R. Lanciani, 1897, p. 554, <i>sq.</i>]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PI" id="Footnote_PI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PI"><span class="label">[pi]</span></a> <a id="Note_440" name="Note_440">{440}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The now spectator with a sanctioned mirth</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To view the vast design</i>——.—[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_519" id="Footnote_519"></a><a href="#FNanchor_519"><span class="label">[519]</span></a> This and the next six stanzas have a reference to the +Church of St. Peter's. (For a measurement of the comparative length of +this basilica and the other great churches of Europe, see the pavement +of St. Peter's, and the <i>Classical Tour through Italy</i>, ii. 125, <i>et +seq.</i>, chap, iv.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PJ" id="Footnote_PJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PJ"><span class="label">[pj]</span></a> <i>Look to the dome</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_520" id="Footnote_520"></a><a href="#FNanchor_520"><span class="label">[520]</span></a> [Compare <i>The Prophecy of Dante</i>, iv. 49-53— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i21">"While still stands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The austere Pantheon, into heaven shall soar<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A dome, its image, while the base expands<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into a fane surpassing all before,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Such as all flesh shall flock to kneel in—"<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Compare, too, Browning's <i>Christmas Eve</i>, sect, x.— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Is it really on the earth,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This miraculous dome of God?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Has the angel's measuring-rod<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which numbered cubits, gem from gem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Twixt the gates of the new Jerusalem,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Meted it out,—and what he meted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Have the sons of men completed?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">—Binding ever as he bade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Columns in the colonnade,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With arms wide open to embrace<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The entry of the human race?"]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PK" id="Footnote_PK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PK"><span class="label">[pk]</span></a> <a id="Note_441" name="Note_441">{441}</a> <i>Lo Christ's great dome</i>——.—[MS.M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_521" id="Footnote_521"></a><a href="#FNanchor_521"><span class="label">[521]</span></a> [The ruins which Byron and Hobhouse explored, March 25, +1810 (<i>Travels in Albania</i>, ii. 68-71), were not the ruins of the second +Temple of Artemis, the sixth wonder of the world (<i>vide</i> Philo +Byzantius, <i>De Septem Orbis Miraculis</i>), but, probably, those of "the +great gymnasium near the port of the city." In 1810, and for long +afterwards, the remains of the temple were buried under twenty feet of +earth, and it was not till 1870 that the late Mr. J. T. Wood, the agent +of the Trustees of the British Museum, had so far completed his +excavations as to discover the foundations of the building on the exact +spot which had been pointed out by Guhl in 1843. Fragments of the famous +sculptured columns, thirty-six in number, says Pliny (<i>Hist. Nat.</i>, +xxxvi. 95), were also brought to light, and are now in the British +Museum. (See <i>Modern Discoveries on the Site of Ancient Ephesus</i>, by J. +T. Wood, 1890; <i>Hist. of Greek Sculpture</i>, by A. S. Murray, ii. 304.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_522" id="Footnote_522"></a><a href="#FNanchor_522"><span class="label">[522]</span></a> [Compare <i>Don Juan</i>, Canto IX. stanza xxvii. line 2—"I +have heard them in the Ephesian ruins howl."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PL" id="Footnote_PL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PL"><span class="label">[pl]</span></a> <a id="Note_442" name="Note_442">{442}</a> ——<i>round roofs swell</i>.—[MS. M., D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PM" id="Footnote_PM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PM"><span class="label">[pm]</span></a> <i>Their glittering breastplate in the sun</i>——.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_523" id="Footnote_523"></a><a href="#FNanchor_523"><span class="label">[523]</span></a> [Compare Canto II. stanza lxxix. lines 2, 3— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Oh Stamboul! once the Empress of their reign,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_524" id="Footnote_524"></a><a href="#FNanchor_524"><span class="label">[524]</span></a> [The emphasis is on the word "fit." The measure of +"fitness" is the entirety of the enshrinement or embodiment of the +mortal aspiration to put on immortality. The vastness and the sacredness +of St. Peter's make for and effect this embodiment. So, too, the living +temple "so defined," great with the greatness of holiness, may become +the enshrinement and the embodiment of the Spirit of God.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PN" id="Footnote_PN"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PN"><span class="label">[pn]</span></a> <a id="Note_443" name="Note_443">{443}</a> <i>His earthly palace</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_525" id="Footnote_525"></a><a href="#FNanchor_525"><span class="label">[525]</span></a> [This stanza may be paraphrased, but not construed. +Apparently, the meaning is that as the eye becomes accustomed to the +details and proportions of the building, the sense of its vastness +increases. Your first impression was at fault, you had not begun to +realize the almost inconceivable vastness of the structure. You had +begun to climb the mountain, and the dazzling peak seemed to be close at +your head, but as you ascend, it recedes. "Thou movest," but the +building expands; "thou climbest," but the Alp increases in height. In +both cases the eye has been deceived by gigantic elegance, by the +proportion of parts to the whole.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PO" id="Footnote_PO"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PO"><span class="label">[po]</span></a> And fair proportions which beguile the eyes.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PP" id="Footnote_PP"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PP"><span class="label">[pp]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Painting and marble of so many dyes</i>—<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And glorious high altar where for ever burn</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PQ" id="Footnote_PQ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PQ"><span class="label">[pq]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i3"><i>Its Giant's limbs and by degrees</i>——<br /></span> +<span class="i0">or, <i>The Giant eloquence and thus unroll</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PR" id="Footnote_PR"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PR"><span class="label">[pr]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i15">——<i>our narrow sense</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Cannot keep pace with mind</i>——[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PS" id="Footnote_PS"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PS"><span class="label">[ps]</span></a> <a id="Note_445" name="Note_445">{445}</a> <i>What Earth nor Time—nor former Thought could +frame</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PT" id="Footnote_PT"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PT"><span class="label">[pt]</span></a> <i>Before your eye—and ye return not as ye came</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PU" id="Footnote_PU"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PU"><span class="label">[pu]</span></a> <i>In that which Genius did, what great Conceptions +can</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_526" id="Footnote_526"></a><a href="#FNanchor_526"><span class="label">[526]</span></a> [Pliny tells us (<i>Hist. Nat.</i>, xxxvi. 5) that the Laocoon +which stood in the palace of Titus was the work of three sculptors, +natives of Rhodes; and it is now universally admitted that the statue +which was found (January 14, 1516) in the vineyard of Felice de' Freddi, +not far from the ruins of the palace, and is now in the Vatican, is the +statue which Pliny describes. M. Collignon, in his <i>Histoire de la +Sculpture Grecque</i>, gives reasons for assigning the date of the Laocoon +to the first years of the first century B.C. It follows that the work is +a century later than the frieze of the great altar of Pergamos, which +contains the figure of a young giant caught in the toils of Athena's +serpent—a theme which served as a model for later sculptors of the same +school. In 1817 the Laocoon was in the heyday of its fame, and was +regarded as the supreme achievement of ancient art. Since then it has +been decried and dethroned. M. Collignon protests against this excessive +depreciation, and makes himself the mouthpiece of a second and more +temperate reaction: "On peut ... gôuter mediocrement le mélodrame, sans +méconnaître pour cela les réelles qualités du groupe. La composition est +d'une structure irréprochable, d'une harmonie de lignes qui défie toute +critique. Le torse du Laocoon trahit une science du nu pen commune" +(<i>Hist. de la Sculp. Grecque</i>, 1897, ii. 550, 551).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PV" id="Footnote_PV"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PV"><span class="label">[pv]</span></a> <a id="Note_446" name="Note_446">{446}</a> ——<i>the writhing boys</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PW" id="Footnote_PW"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PW"><span class="label">[pw]</span></a> <i>Shackles its living rings, and</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_527" id="Footnote_527"></a><a href="#FNanchor_527"><span class="label">[527]</span></a> [In his description of the Apollo Belvidere, Byron +follows the traditional theory of Montorsoli, the pupil of Michael +Angelo, who restored the left hand and right forearm of the statue. 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. The discovery, in 1860, of a bronze +statuette in the Stroganoff Collection at St. Petersburg, which holds +something like an ægis and a mantle in the left hand, suggested to +Stephani a second theory, that the Belvidere Apollo was a copy of a +statue of Apollo Boëdromios, an <i>ex-voto</i> offering on the rout of the +Gauls when they attacked Delphi (B.C. 278). To this theory Furtwaengler +at one time assented, but subsequently came to the conclusion that the +Stroganoff bronze was a forgery. His present contention is that the left +hand held a bow, as Montorsoli imagined, whilst the right grasped "a +branch of laurel, of which the leaves are still visible on the trunk +which the copyist added to the bronze original." The Apollo Belvidere +is, he concludes, a copy of the Apollo Alexicacos of Leochares (fourth +century B.C.), which stood in the Cerameicos at Athens. M. Maxime +Collignon, who utters a word of warning as to the undue depreciation of +the statue by modern critics, adopts Furtwaengler's later theory +(<i>Masterpieces of Ancient Greek Sculpture</i>, by A. Furtwaengler, 1895, +ii. 405, <i>sq.</i>).]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_528" id="Footnote_528"></a><a href="#FNanchor_528"><span class="label">[528]</span></a> <a id="Note_447" name="Note_447">{447}</a> [The "delicate" beauty of the statue recalled the +features of a lady whom he had once thought of making his wife. "The +Apollo Belvidere," he wrote to Moore (May 12, 1817), "is the image of +Lady Adelaide Forbes. I think I never saw such a likeness."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_529" id="Footnote_529"></a><a href="#FNanchor_529"><span class="label">[529]</span></a> [It is probable that lines 1-4 of this stanza contain an +allusion to a fact related by M. Pinel, in his work, <i>Sur l'Insanité</i>, +which Milman turned to account in his <i>Belvidere Apollo</i>, a Newdigate +Prize Poem of 1812— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Beauteous as vision seen in dreamy sleep<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By holy maid on Delphi's haunted steep,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Mid the dim twilight of the laurel grove,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too fair to worship, too divine to love.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet on that form in wild delirious trance<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With more than rev'rence gazed the Maid of France,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Day after day the love-sick dreamer stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With him alone, nor thought it solitude!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To cherish grief, her last, her dearest care,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Her one fond hope—to perish of despair."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Milman's <i>Poetical Works</i>, Paris, 1829, p. 180. +</p><p> +Compare, too, Coleridge's <i>Kubla Khan</i>, lines 14-16— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"A savage place, as holy and enchanted,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As e'er beneath a wailing moon was haunted<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By woman wailing for her demon-lover."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>Poetical Works</i>, 1893, p. 94.] +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PX" id="Footnote_PX"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PX"><span class="label">[px]</span></a> <a id="Note_448" name="Note_448">{448}</a> <i>Before its eyes unveiled to image forth a +God!</i>—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_530" id="Footnote_530"></a><a href="#FNanchor_530"><span class="label">[530]</span></a> [The fire which Prometheus stole from heaven was the +living soul, "the source of all our woe." (Compare Horace, <i>Odes</i>, i. 3. +29-31— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Post ignem ætheriâ domo<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Subductum, Macies et nova Febrium<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Terris incubuit cohors.")]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PY" id="Footnote_PY"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PY"><span class="label">[py]</span></a> <a id="Note_449" name="Note_449">{449}</a> <i>The phantom fades away into the general +mass</i>.—[MS. M. erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_531" id="Footnote_531"></a><a href="#FNanchor_531"><span class="label">[531]</span></a> <a id="Note_450" name="Note_450">{450}</a> [Compare <i>Hamlet</i>, act iii. sc. 1, line 76—"Who +would these fardels bear?"]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_532" id="Footnote_532"></a><a href="#FNanchor_532"><span class="label">[532]</span></a> [Charlotte Augusta (b. January 7, 1796), only daughter of +the Prince Regent, was married to Leopold of Saxe-Coburg, May 2, 1816, +and died in childbirth, November 6, 1817. +</p><p> +Other poets produced their dirges; but it was left to Byron to deal +finely, and as a poet should, with a present grief, which was felt to be +a national calamity. +</p><p> +Southey's "Funeral Song for the Princess Charlotte of Wales" was only +surpassed in feebleness by Coleridge's "Israel's Lament." Campbell +composed a laboured elegy, which was "spoken by Mr ... at Drury Lane +Theatre, on the First Opening of the House after the Death of the +Princess Charlotte, 1817;" and Montgomery wrote a hymn on "The Royal +Infant, Still-born, November 5, 1817." +</p><p> +Not a line of these lamentable effusions has survived; but the poor, +pitiful story of common misfortune, with its tragic irony, uncommon +circumstance, and far-reaching consequence, found its <i>vates sacer</i> in +the author of <i>Childe Harold</i>.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_PZ" id="Footnote_PZ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_PZ"><span class="label">[pz]</span></a> <a id="Note_451" name="Note_451">{451}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Her prayers for thee and in thy coming power</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Beheld her Iris—Thou too lonely Lord</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And desolate Consort! fatal is thy dower</i>,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The Husband of a year—the Father of an</i>——[? <i>hour</i>].—[D. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_533" id="Footnote_533"></a><a href="#FNanchor_533"><span class="label">[533]</span></a> <a id="Note_452" name="Note_452">{452}</a> [Compare Canto III. stanza xxxiv. lines 6, 7— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Like to the apples on the Dead Sea's shore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">All ashes to the taste."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_534" id="Footnote_534"></a><a href="#FNanchor_534"><span class="label">[534]</span></a> [Mr. Tozer traces the star simile to Homer (<i>Iliad</i>, +viii. 559)—<span title="Pa/nta de/ t' ei)/detai a)/stra, ge/gêthe de/ te phre/na poimê/n"> +Πάντα δέ τ' +εἴδεται ἄστρα, +γέγηθε δέ τε +φρένα ποιμήν</span> +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_535" id="Footnote_535"></a><a href="#FNanchor_535"><span class="label">[535]</span></a> [Compare <i>Macbeth</i>, act iii. sc. 2, lines 22, 23— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">"Duncan is in his grave;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">After life's fitful fever he sleeps well."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_536" id="Footnote_536"></a><a href="#FNanchor_536"><span class="label">[536]</span></a> [Compare <i>Coriolanus</i>, act iii. sc. 3, lines 121, 122— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As reek o' the rotten fens."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_537" id="Footnote_537"></a><a href="#FNanchor_537"><span class="label">[537]</span></a> <a id="Note_453" name="Note_453">{453}</a> Mary died on the scaffold; Elizabeth, of a broken +heart; Charles V., a hermit; Louis XIV., a bankrupt in means and glory; +Cromwell, of anxiety; and, "the greatest is behind," Napoleon lives a +prisoner. To these sovereigns a long but superfluous list might be added +of names equally illustrious and unhappy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QA" id="Footnote_QA"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QA"><span class="label">[qa]</span></a> <i>Which sinks</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_538" id="Footnote_538"></a><a href="#FNanchor_538"><span class="label">[538]</span></a> [The simile of the "earthquake" was repeated in a letter +to Murray, dated December 3, 1817: "The death of the Princess Charlotte +has been a shock even here, and must have been an earthquake at home.... +The death of this poor Girl is melancholy in every respect, dying at +twenty or so, in childbed—of a <i>boy</i> too, a present princess and future +queen, and just as she began to be happy, and to enjoy herself, and the +hopes which she inspired."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_539" id="Footnote_539"></a><a href="#FNanchor_539"><span class="label">[539]</span></a> <a id="Note_454" name="Note_454">{454}</a> The village of Nemi was near the Arician retreat of +Egeria, and, from the shades which embosomed the temple of Diana, has +preserved to this day its distinctive appellation of <i>The Grove</i>. Nemi +is but an evening's ride from the comfortable inn of Albano. +</p><p> +[The basin of the Lago di Nemi is the crater of an extinct volcano. +Hence the comparison to a coiled snake. Its steel-blue waters are +unruffled by the wind which lashes the neighbouring ocean into fury. +Hence its likeness to "cherished hate," as contrasted with "generous and +active wrath."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QB" id="Footnote_QB"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QB"><span class="label">[qb]</span></a> <i>And calm as speechless hate</i>——.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_540" id="Footnote_540"></a><a href="#FNanchor_540"><span class="label">[540]</span></a> [The spectator is supposed to be looking towards the +Mediterranean from the summit of Monte Cavo. Tusculum, where "Tully +reposed," lies to the north of the Alban Hills, on the right; but, as +Byron points to a spot "beneath thy right," he probably refers to the +traditional site of the Villa Ciceronis at Grotta Ferrata, and not to an +alternative site at the Villa Ruffinella, between Frascati and the ruins +of Tusculum. Horace's Sabine farm, on the bank of Digentia's "ice-cold +rivulet," is more than twenty miles to the north-east of the Alban +Hills. The mountains to the south and east of Tusculum intercept the +view of the valley of the Licenza (Digentia), where the "farm was +tilled." Childe Harold had bidden farewell to Horace, once for all, +"upon Soracte's ridge," but recalls him to keep company with Virgil and +Cicero.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QC" id="Footnote_QC"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QC"><span class="label">[qc]</span></a> <a id="Note_455" name="Note_455">{455}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2"><i>Of girdling mountains circle on the sight</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The Sabine farm was tilled, the wearied Bard's delight</i>.—<br /></span> +<span class="i22">[MS. M.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_541" id="Footnote_541"></a><a href="#FNanchor_541"><span class="label">[541]</span></a> ["Calpe's rock" is Gibraltar (compare <i>Childe Harold</i>, +Canto II. stanza xxii. line i). "Last" may be the last time that Byron +and Childe Harold saw the Mediterranean together. Byron had last seen +it—"the Midland Ocean"—by "Calpe's rock," on his return journey to +England in 1811. Or by "last" he may mean the last time that it burst +upon his view. He had not seen the Mediterranean on his way from Geneva +to Venice, in October-November, 1816, or from Venice to Rome, +April—May, 1817; but now from the Alban Mount the "ocean" was full in +view.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QD" id="Footnote_QD"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QD"><span class="label">[qd]</span></a> +<a id="Note_456" name="Note_456">{456}</a> ——<i>much suffering and some tears</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_542" id="Footnote_542"></a><a href="#FNanchor_542"><span class="label">[542]</span></a> +["After the stanza (near the conclusion of Canto 4th) +which ends with the line— +</p><p> +"'As if there was no man to trouble what is clear,' +</p><p> +insert the two following stanzas (clxxvii., clxxviii.). Then go on to +the stanza beginning, 'Roll on thou,' etc., etc. You will find the place +of insertion near the conclusion—just before the address to the Ocean. +</p><p> +"These <i>two stanzas</i> will just make up the number of 500 stanzas to the +whole poem. +</p><p> +"Answer when you receive this. I sent back the packets yesterday, and +hope they will arrive in safety."—D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_543" id="Footnote_543"></a><a href="#FNanchor_543"><span class="label">[543]</span></a> +[His desire is towards no light o' love, but for the +support and fellowship of his sister. Compare the opening lines of the +<i>Epistle to Augusta</i>— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"My sister! my sweet sister! if a name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dearer and purer were, it should be thine;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mountains and seas divide us, but I claim<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No tears, but tenderness to answer mine:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go where I will, to me thou art the same—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A loved regret which I would not resign.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">There yet are two things in my destiny,—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">A world to roam through and a home with thee.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"The first were nothing—had I still the last,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">It were the haven of my happiness."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_544" id="Footnote_544"></a><a href="#FNanchor_544"><span class="label">[544]</span></a> <a id="Note_457" name="Note_457">{457}</a> [Compare <i>Childe Harold</i>, Canto III. stanza lxxii. +lines 8, 9; and <i>Epistle to Augusta</i>, stanza xi.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QE" id="Footnote_QE"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QE"><span class="label">[qe]</span></a> <a id="Note_458" name="Note_458">{458}</a> ——<i>unearthed, uncoffined, and unknown</i>.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_545" id="Footnote_545"></a><a href="#FNanchor_545"><span class="label">[545]</span></a> [Compare <i>Ps</i>. cvii. 26, "They mount up to the heaven, +they go down again to the depths."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QF" id="Footnote_QF"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QF"><span class="label">[qf]</span></a> <i>And dashest him to earth again: there let him +lay!</i>—[D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_546" id="Footnote_546"></a><a href="#FNanchor_546"><span class="label">[546]</span></a> ["Lay" is followed by a plainly marked period in both the +MSS. (M. and D.) of the Fourth Canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>. For instances +of the same error, compare "The Adieu," stanza 10, line 4, and ["Pignus +Amoris"], stanza 3, line 3 (<i>Poetical Works</i>, 1898, i. 232, note, and p. +241). It is to be remarked that Hobhouse, who pencilled a few +corrections on the margin of his own MS. copy, makes no comment on this +famous solecism. The fact is that Byron wrote as he spoke, with the +"careless and negligent ease of a man of quality," and either did not +know that "lay" was not an intransitive verb or regarded himself as +"super grammaticam."]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_547" id="Footnote_547"></a><a href="#FNanchor_547"><span class="label">[547]</span></a> <a id="Note_459" name="Note_459">{459}</a> [Compare Campbell's <i>Battle of the Baltic</i> (stanza +ii. lines 1, 2)— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Like leviathans afloat,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Lay their bulwarks on the brine."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QG" id="Footnote_QG"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QG"><span class="label">[qg]</span></a> <i>These oaken citadels which made and make</i>.—[MS. M. +erased.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_548" id="Footnote_548"></a><a href="#FNanchor_548"><span class="label">[548]</span></a> The Gale of wind which succeeded the battle of Trafalgar +destroyed the greater part (if not all) of the prizes—nineteen sail of +the line—taken on that memorable day. I should be ashamed to specify +particulars which should be known to all—did we not know that in France +the people were kept in ignorance of the event of this most glorious +victory in modern times, and that in England it is the present fashion +to talk of Waterloo as though it were entirely an English triumph—and a +thing to be named with Blenheim and Agincourt—Trafalgar and Aboukir. +Posterity will decide; but if it be remembered as a skilful or as a +wonderful action, it will be like the battle of Zama, where we think of +Hannibal more than of Scipio. For assuredly we dwell on this action, not +because it was gained by Blucher or Wellington, but because it was lost +by Buonaparte—a man who, with all his vices and his faults, never yet +found an adversary with a tithe of his talents (as far as the expression +can apply to a conqueror) or his good intentions, his clemency or his +fortitude. +</p><p> +Look at his successors throughout Europe, whose imitation of the worst +parts of his policy is only limited by their comparative impotence, and +their positive imbecility.—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_549" id="Footnote_549"></a><a href="#FNanchor_549"><span class="label">[549]</span></a> <a id="Note_460" name="Note_460">{460}</a> ["When Lord Byron wrote this stanza, he had, no +doubt, the following passage in Boswell's <i>Johnson</i> floating in his +mind.... 'The grand object of all travelling is to see the shores of the +Mediterranean. On those shores were the four great empires of the +world—the Assyrian, the Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman' (<i>Life of +Johnson</i>, 1876, p. 505)."—Note to <i>Childe Harold</i>, Canto IV. stanza +clxxxii. ed. 1891.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_550" id="Footnote_550"></a><a href="#FNanchor_550"><span class="label">[550]</span></a> [See letter to Murray, September 24, 1818: "What does +'thy waters <i>wasted</i> them' mean (in the Canto)? <i>That is not me</i>. +Consult the MS. <i>always</i>." Nevertheless, the misreading appeared in +several editions. (For a correspondence on the subject, see <i>Notes and +Queries</i>, first series, vol. i. pp. 182, 278, 324, 508; vol. ix. p. 481; +vol. x. pp. 314, 434.)]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QH" id="Footnote_QH"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QH"><span class="label">[qh]</span></a> <i>Thy waters wasted them while they were free</i>.—[Editions +1818, 1819, 1823, and Galignani, 1825.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QI" id="Footnote_QI"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QI"><span class="label">[qi]</span></a> <i>Unchangeable save calm thy tempests ply</i>.—[MS. M., D.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QJ" id="Footnote_QJ"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QJ"><span class="label">[qj]</span></a> <a id="Note_461" name="Note_461">{461}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>The image of Eternity and Space</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>For who hath fixed thy limits</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_551" id="Footnote_551"></a><a href="#FNanchor_551"><span class="label">[551]</span></a> [Compare Tennyson's <i>In Memoriam</i>, lv. stanza 6— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i11">"Dragons of the prime,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">That tare each other in their slime,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Were mellow music match'd with him."]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_552" id="Footnote_552"></a><a href="#FNanchor_552"><span class="label">[552]</span></a> ["While at Aberdeen, he used often to steal from home +unperceived; sometimes he would find his way to the seaside" (<i>Life</i>, p. +9). For an account of his feats in swimming, see <i>Letters</i>, 1898, i. +263, note 1; and letter to Murray, February 21, 1821. See, too, for a +"more perilous, but less celebrated passage" (from Old Lisbon to Belem +Castle), <i>Travels in Albania</i>, ii. 195.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_553" id="Footnote_553"></a><a href="#FNanchor_553"><span class="label">[553]</span></a> ["It was a thought worthy of the great spirit of Byron, +after exhibiting to us his Pilgrim amidst all the most striking scenes +of earthly grandeur and earthly decay ... to conduct him and us at last +to the borders of 'the Great Deep.' ... The image of the wanderer may +well be associated, for a time, with the rock of Calpe, the shattered +temples of Athens, or the gigantic fragments of Rome; but when we wish +to think of this dark personification as of a thing which is, where can +we so well imagine him to have his daily haunt as by the roaring of the +waves? It was thus that Homer represented Achilles in his moments of +ungovernable and inconsolable grief for the loss of Patroclus. It was +thus he chose to depict the paternal despair of Chryseus—"<span +title="Bê/ d' a)ke/ôn para\ thi~na polyphloi/sboio thala/ssês"> +Βή δ' ἀκέων παρὰ +θῖνα +πολυφλοίσβοιο +θαλάσσης</span>." + +Note by Professor Wilson, ed. 1837.]</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QK" id="Footnote_QK"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QK"><span class="label">[qk]</span></a> <a id="Note_462" name="Note_462">{462}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Is dying in the echo—it is time</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To break the spell of this protracted dream</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And what will be the fate of this my rhyme</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>May not be of my augury</i>——.—[MS. M. erased.]<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QL" id="Footnote_QL"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QL"><span class="label">[ql]</span></a> <i>Fatal—and yet it shakes me not—farewell.</i>—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_QM" id="Footnote_QM"></a><a href="#FNanchor_QM"><span class="label">[qm]</span></a> <i>Ye! who have traced my Pilgrim to the scene.</i>—[MS. M.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_554" id="Footnote_554"></a><a href="#FNanchor_554"><span class="label">[554]</span></a> <a id="Note_463" name="Note_463">{463}</a> At end— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laus Deo!<br /></span> +<span class="i5"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>.<br /></span> +<span class="i10">July 19th, 1817.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">La Mira, near Venice.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Laus Deo!<br /></span> +<span class="i5"><span class="smcap">Byron</span>.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">La Mira, near Venice,<br /></span> +<span class="i5">Sept. 3, 1817.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_465" id="Page_465">[465]</a></span></p> + + +<h2 style="line-height:2em;"><a name="NOTES_4" id="NOTES_4"></a>NOTES<br /> +<span style="font-size:66%">TO</span><br /> +<span style="font-size:150%;">CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE</span>.<br /> +CANTO IV. +</h2> + +<h4><a id="en_4_1" name="en_4_1"></a>1.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I stood in Venice, on the "Bridge of Sighs;"<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A Palace and a prison on each hand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_I">Stanza i.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">The</span> communication between the ducal palace and the +prisons of Venice is by a gloomy bridge, or covered gallery, +high above the water, and divided by a stone wall into a +passage and a cell. The state dungeons called <i>pozzi</i>, or +wells, were sunk in the thick walls of the palace: and the +prisoner, when taken out to die, was conducted across the +gallery to the other side, and being then led back into +the other compartment, or cell, upon the bridge, was there +strangled. The low portal through which the criminal was +taken into this cell is now walled up; but the passage is still +open, and is still known by the name of the "Bridge of Sighs." +The <i>pozzi</i> are under the flooring of the chamber at the foot +of the bridge. They were formerly twelve; but on the first +arrival of the French, the Venetians hastily blocked or broke +up the deeper of these dungeons. You may still, however +descend by a trap-door, and crawl down through holes, half +choked by rubbish, to the depth of two stories below the first +range. If you are in want of consolation for the extinction of +patrician power, perhaps you may find it there; scarcely a +ray of light glimmers into the narrow gallery which leads to +the cells, and the places of confinement themselves are totally +dark. A small hole in the wall admitted the damp air of the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_466" id="Page_466">[466]</a></span> +passages, and served for the introduction of the prisoner's +food. A wooden pallet, raised a foot from the ground, was +the only furniture. The conductors tell you that a light was +not allowed. The cells are about five paces in length, two +and a half in width, and seven feet in height. They are +directly beneath one another, and respiration is somewhat +difficult in the lower holes. Only one prisoner was found +when the republicans descended into these hideous recesses, +and he is said to have been confined sixteen years. But the +inmates of the dungeons beneath had left traces of their +repentance, or of their despair, which are still visible, and +may, perhaps, owe something to recent ingenuity. Some of +the detained appear to have offended against, and others to +have belonged to, the sacred body, not only from their signatures, +but from the churches and belfries which they have +scratched upon the walls. The reader may not object to see +a specimen of the records prompted by so terrific a solitude. +As nearly as they could be copied by more than one pencil, +three of them are as follows:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">1. NON TI FIDAR AD ALCUNO PENSA e TACI<br /></span> +<span class="i3">SE FUGIR VUOI DE SPIONI INSIDIE e LACCI<br /></span> +<span class="i3">IL PENTIRTI PENTIRTI NULLA GIOVA<br /></span> +<span class="i3">MA BEN DI VALOR TUO LA VERA PROVA<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i19">1607. ADI 2. GENARO. FUI RETENTO<br /></span> +<span class="i19">P' LA BESTIEMMA P' AVER DATO<br /></span> +<span class="i23">DA MANZAR A UN MORTO<br /></span> +<span class="i26">IACOMO. GRITTI. SCRISSE.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">2. UN PARLAR POCHO et<br /></span> +<span class="i3">NEGARE PRONTO et<br /></span> +<span class="i3">UN PENSAR AL FINE PUO DARE LA VITA<br /></span> +<span class="i3">A NOI ALTRI MESCHINI<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i32">1605.<br /></span> +<span class="i23">EGO IOHN BAPTISTA AD<br /></span> +<span class="i23">ECCLESIAM CORTELLARIUS.<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">3. DE CHI MI FIDO GUARDAMI DIO<br /></span> +<span class="i3">DE CHI NON MI FIDO MI GUARDARO IO<br /></span> +<span class="i11">A +TA H A + NA<br /></span> +<span class="i10">V +. LA S +. C +. K +. R .<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The copyist has followed, not corrected, the solecisms; +some of which are, however, not quite so decided since the +letters were evidently scratched in the dark. It only need be +observed, that <i>bestemmia</i> and <i>mangiar</i> may be read in the +first inscription, which was probably written by a prisoner +confined for some act of impiety committed at a funeral; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_467" id="Page_467">[467]</a></span> +that <i>Cortellarius</i> is the name of a parish on terra firma, near +the sea; and that the last initials evidently are put for +<i>Viva la santa Chiesa Kattolica Romana</i>.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_2" name="en_4_2"></a>2.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Venice Tasso's echoes are no more.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_III">Stanza iii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>["I cannot forbear mentioning a custom in Venice, which +they tell me is particular to the common people of this +country, of singing stanzas out of Tasso. They are set to a +pretty solemn tune, and when one begins in any part of the +poet, it is odds but he will be answered by somebody else +that overhears him; so that sometimes you have ten or a +dozen in the neighbourhood of one another, taking verse after +verse, and running on with the poem as far as their memories +will carry them."—<span class="smcap">Addison</span>, A.D. 1700.]</p> + +<p>The well-known song of the gondoliers, of alternate stanzas +from Tasso's <i>Jerusalem</i>, has died with the independence of +Venice. Editions of the poem, with the original in one +column, and the Venetian variations on the other, as sung by +the boatmen, were once common, and are still to be found. +The following extract will serve to show the difference between +the Tuscan epic and the <i>Canta alia Barcariola:</i>—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">ORIGINAL.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Canto l'arme pietose, e 'l capitano<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Che 'l gran Sepolcro liberò di Cristo<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Molto egli oprò col senno, e con la mano<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Molto soffri nel glorioso acquisto;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">E in van l' Inferno a lui s' oppose, e in vano<br /></span> +<span class="i2">S' armò d' Asia, e di Libia il popol misto,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Che il Ciel gli diè favore, e sotto a i Santi<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Segni ridusse i suoi compagni erranti.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i10">VENETIAN.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">L' arme pietose de cantar gho vogia,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">E de Goffredo la immortal braura<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Che al fin l' ha libera co strassia, e dogia<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Del nostro buon Gesû la Sepoltura<br /></span> +<span class="i0">De mezo mondo unite, e de quel Bogia<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Missier Pluton non l' ha bu mai paura:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dio l' ha agiutá, e i compagni sparpagni<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tutti 'l gh' i ha messi insieme i di del Dai.<br /></span> +</div></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_468" id="Page_468">[468]</a></span></p> + +<p>Some of the elder gondoliers will, however, take up and continue +a stanza of their once familiar bard.</p> + +<p>On the 7th of last January, the author of <i>Childe Harold</i>, +and another Englishman, the writer of this notice, rowed to +the Lido with two singers, one of whom was a carpenter, and +the other a gondolier. The former placed himself at the +prow, the latter at the stern of the boat. A little after leaving +the quay of the Piazzetta, they began to sing, and continued +their exercise until we arrived at the island. They gave us, +amongst other essays, the death of Clorinda, and the palace +of Armida; and did not sing the Venetian but the Tuscan +verses. The carpenter, however, who was the cleverer of the +two, and was frequently obliged to prompt his companion, +told us that he could <i>translate</i> the original. He added, that +he could sing almost three hundred stanzas, but had not +spirits (<i>morbin</i> was the word he used) to learn any more, or +to sing what he already knew: a man must have idle time on +his hands to acquire, or to repeat, and, said the poor fellow, +"look at my clothes and at me; I am starving." This speech +was more affecting than his performance, which habit alone +can make attractive. The recitative was shrill, screaming, +and monotonous; and the gondolier behind assisted his voice +by holding his hand to one side of his mouth. The carpenter +used a quiet action, which he evidently endeavoured to +restrain; but was too much interested in his subject altogether +to repress. From these men we learnt that singing +is not confined to the gondoliers, and that, although the +chant is seldom, if ever, voluntary, there are still several +amongst the lower classes who are acquainted with a few stanzas.</p> + +<p>It does not appear that it is usual for the performers to row +and sing at the same time. Although the verses of the +<i>Jerusalem</i> are no longer casually heard, there is yet much +music upon the Venetian canals; and upon holydays, those +strangers who are not near or informed enough to distinguish +the words, may fancy that many of the gondolas still resound +with the strains of Tasso. The writer of some remarks which +appeared in the <i>Curiosities of Literature</i> must excuse his +being twice quoted; for, with the exception of some phrases +a little too ambitious and extravagant, he has furnished a +very exact, as well as agreeable description:—</p> + +<p>"In Venice the gondoliers know by heart long passages +from Ariosto and Tasso, and often chant them with a peculiar +melody. But this talent seems at present on the decline:—at +least, after taking some pains, I could find no more than +two persons who delivered to me in this way a passage from +Tasso. I must add, that the late Mr. Berry once chanted to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_469" id="Page_469">[469]</a></span> +me a passage in Tasso in the manner, as he assured me, of +the gondoliers.</p> + +<p>"There are always two concerned, who alternately sing the +strophes. We know the melody eventually by Rousseau, to +whose songs it is printed; it has properly no melodious +movement, and is a sort of medium between the canto fermo +and the canto figurato; it approaches to the former by +recitativical declamation, and to the latter by passages and +course, by which one syllable is detained and embellished.</p> + +<p>"I entered a gondola by moonlight; one singer placed +himself forwards and the other aft, and thus proceeded to +St. Georgio. One began the song: when he had ended his +strophe, the other took up the lay, and so continued the song +alternately. Throughout the whole of it, the same notes +invariably returned; but, according to the subject-matter of +the strophe, they laid a greater or a smaller stress, sometimes +on one, and sometimes on another note, and indeed changed +the enunciation of the whole strophe as the object of the +poem altered.</p> + +<p>"On the whole, however, the sounds were hoarse and +screaming: they seemed, in the manner of all rude uncivilised +men, to make the excellency of their singing in the force of +their voice. One seemed desirous of conquering the other +by the strength of his lungs; and so far from receiving +delight from this scene (shut up as I was in the box of the +gondola), I found myself in a very unpleasant situation.</p> + +<p>"My companion, to whom I communicated this circumstance, +being very desirous to keep up the credit of his +countrymen, assured me that the singing was very delightful +when heard at a distance. Accordingly we got out upon the +shore, leaving one of the singers in the gondola, while the +other went to the distance of some hundred paces. They +now began to sing against one another, and I kept walking +up and down between them both, so as always to leave him +who was to begin his part. I frequently stood still and +hearkened to the one and to the other.</p> + +<p>"Here the scene was properly introduced. The strong +declamatory, and, as it were, shrieking sound, met the ear +from far, and called forth the attention; the quickly succeeding +transitions, which necessarily required to be sung in a +lower tone, seemed like plaintive strains succeeding the +vociferations of emotion or of pain. The other, who listened +attentively, immediately began where the former left off, +answering him in milder or more vehement notes, according +as the purport of the strophe required. The sleepy canals, +the lofty buildings, the splendour of the moon, the deep +shadows of the few gondolas that moved like spirits hither +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_470" id="Page_470">[470]</a></span> +and thither, increased the striking peculiarity of the scene; +and, amidst all these circumstances, it was easy to confess +the character of this wonderful harmony.</p> + +<p>"It suits perfectly well with an idle, solitary mariner, lying +at length in his vessel at rest on one of these canals, waiting +for his company, or for a fare, the tiresomeness of which +situation is somewhat alleviated by the songs and poetical +stories he has in memory. He often raises his voice as loud +as he can, which extends itself to a vast distance over the +tranquil mirror; and as all is still around, he is, as it were, +in a solitude in the midst of a large and populous town. +Here is no rattling of carriages, no noise of foot passengers; +a silent gondola glides now and then by him, of which the +splashings of the oars are scarcely to be heard.</p> + +<p>"At a distance he hears another, perhaps utterly unknown +to him. Melody and verse immediately attach the two +strangers; he becomes the responsive echo to the former, +and exerts himself to be heard as he had heard the other. +By a tacit convention they alternate verse for verse; though +the song should last the whole night through, they entertain +themselves without fatigue: the hearers who are passing +between the two take part in the amusement.</p> + +<p>"This vocal performance sounds best at a great distance, +and is then inexpressibly charming, as it only fulfills its design +in the sentiment of remoteness. It is plaintive, but not dismal +in its sound, and at times it is scarcely possible to refrain +from tears. My companion, who otherwise was not a very +delicately organised person, said quite unexpectedly: E +singolare come quel canto intenerisce, e molto più quando lo +cantano meglio.</p> + +<p>"I was told that the women of Libo, the long row of islands +that divides the Adriatic from the Lagoons,<a name="FNanchor_555" id="FNanchor_555"></a><a href="#Footnote_555" class="fnanchor">[555]</a> particularly the +women of the extreme districts of Malamocca and Palestrina, +sing in like manner the works of Tasso to these and similar tunes.</p> + +<p>"They have the custom, when their husbands are fishing +out at sea, to sit along the shore in the evenings and vociferate +these songs, and continue to do so with great violence, till +each of them can distinguish the responses of her own husband +at a distance."<a name="FNanchor_556" id="FNanchor_556"></a><a href="#Footnote_556" class="fnanchor">[556]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_471" id="Page_471">[471]</a></span></p> +<p>The love of music and of poetry distinguishes all classes +of Venetians, even amongst the tuneful sons of Italy. The +city itself can occasionally furnish respectable audiences for +two and even three opera-houses at a time; and there are +few events in private life that do not call forth a printed and +circulated sonnet. Does a physician or a lawyer take his +degree, or a clergyman preach his maiden sermon, has a +surgeon performed an operation, would a harlequin announce +his departure or his benefit, are you to be congratulated on +a marriage, or a birth, or a lawsuit, the Muses are invoked +to furnish the same number of syllables, and the individual +triumphs blaze abroad in virgin white or party-coloured +placards on half the corners of the capital. The last curtsy +of a favourite "prima donna" brings down a shower of these +poetical tributes from those upper regions, from which, in our +theatres, nothing but cupids and snowstorms are accustomed +to descend. There is a poetry in the very life of a Venetian, +which, in its common course, is varied with those surprises +and changes so recommendable in fiction, but so different +from the sober monotony of northern existence; amusements +are raised into duties, duties are softened into amusements, +and every object being considered as equally making a part +of the business of life, is announced and performed with the +same earnest indifference and gay assiduity. The Venetian +gazette constantly closes its columns with the following triple +advertisement:—</p> + +<p class="center" > + <i>Charade.</i><br /> + + Exposition of the most Holy Sacrament in the church of St.——<br /> +<br /> + <i>Theatres</i>.<br /> + + St. Moses, opera.<br /> + St. Benedict, a comedy of characters.<br /> + St. Luke, repose. +</p> + +<p>When it is recollected what the Catholics believe their +consecrated wafer to be, we may perhaps think it worthy of a +more respectable niche than between poetry and the playhouse.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_3" name="en_4_3"></a>3.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">St. Mark yet sees his Lion where he stood<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Stand.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XI">Stanza xi.</a> line 5.</p> + +<p>The Lion has lost nothing by his journey to the Invalides, +but the gospel which supported the paw that is now on a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_472" id="Page_472">[472]</a></span> +level with the other foot. The horses also are returned +[A.D. 1815] to the ill-chosen spot whence they set out, and +are, as before, half hidden under the porch window of St. +Mark's Church. Their history, after a desperate struggle, +has been satisfactorily explored. The decisions and doubts +of Erizzo and Zanetti, and lastly, of the Count Leopold +Cicognara, would have given them a Roman extraction, and +a pedigree not more ancient than the reign of Nero. But +M. de Schlegel stepped in to teach the Venetians the value +of their own treasures; and a Greek vindicated, at last and for +ever, the pretension of his countrymen to this noble production<a name="FNanchor_557" id="FNanchor_557"></a><a href="#Footnote_557" class="fnanchor">[557]</a>.</p> + +<p>M. Mustoxidi has not been left without a reply; +but, as yet, he has received no answer. It should seem that +the horses are irrevocably Chian, and were transferred to +Constantinople by Theodosius. Lapidary writing is a favourite +play of the Italians, and has conferred reputation on more +than one of their literary characters. One of the best +specimens of Bodoni's typography is a respectable volume of +inscriptions, all written by his friend Pacciaudi. Several +were prepared for the recovered horses. It is to be hoped +the best was not selected, when the following words were +ranged in gold letters above the cathedral porch:—</p> + +<p style="font-size:90%;">QUATUOR · EQUORUM · SIGNA · +A · VENETIS · BYZANTIO. +CAPTA · AD · TEMP · D · MAR · A · R · S · +MCCIV · POSITA · +QUAE · HOSTILIS · CUPIDITAS · A · MDCCIIIC · ABSTULERAT · +FRANC · I · IMP · PACIS · ORBI · DATAE · TROPHAEUM · A. +MDCCCXV · VICTOR · REDUXIT.</p> + +<p>Nothing shall be said of the Latin, but it may be permitted +to observe, that the injustice of the Venetians in transporting +the horses from Constantinople [A.D. 1204] was at least equal +to that of the French in carrying them to Paris [A.D. 1797], +and that it would have been more prudent to have avoided +all allusions to either robbery. An apostolic prince should, +perhaps, have objected to affixing over the principal entrance +of a metropolitan church an inscription having a reference to +any other triumphs than those of religion. Nothing less than +the pacification of the world can excuse such a solecism.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_473" id="Page_473">[473]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_4" name="en_4_4"></a>4.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The Suabian sued, and now the Austrian reigns—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">An Emperor tramples where an Emperor knelt.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XII">Stanza xii.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>After many vain efforts on the part of the Italians entirely +to throw off the yoke of Frederic Barbarossa, and as fruitless +attempts of the Emperor to make himself absolute master +throughout the whole of his Cisalpine dominions, the bloody +struggles of four-and-twenty years were happily brought to a +close in the city of Venice. The articles of a treaty had been +previously agreed upon between Pope Alexander III. and +Barbarossa; and the former having received a safe-conduct, +had already arrived at Venice from Ferrara, in company +with the ambassadors of the King of Sicily and the consuls +of the Lombard League. There still remained, however, +many points to adjust, and for several days the peace was +believed to be impracticable. At this juncture, it was suddenly +reported that the Emperor had arrived at Chioza, a +town fifteen miles from the capital. The Venetians rose +tumultuously, and insisted upon immediately conducting him +to the city. The Lombards took the alarm, and departed +towards Treviso. The Pope himself was apprehensive of +some disaster if Frederic should suddenly advance upon him, +but was reassured by the prudence and address of Sebastian +Ziani, the Doge. Several embassies passed between Chioza +and the capital, until, at last, the Emperor, relaxing somewhat +of his pretensions, "laid aside his leonine ferocity, and +put on the mildness of the lamb."<a name="FNanchor_558" id="FNanchor_558"></a><a href="#Footnote_558" class="fnanchor">[558]</a></p> + +<p>On Saturday, the 23rd of July, in the year 1177, six +Venetian galleys transferred Frederic, in great pomp, from +Chioza to the island of Lido, a mile from Venice. Early the +next morning, the Pope, accompanied by the Sicilian ambassadors, +and by the envoys of Lombardy, whom he had +recalled from the main land, together with a great concourse +of people, repaired from the patriarchal palace to St. Mark's +Church, and solemnly absolved the Emperor and his partisans +from the excommunication pronounced against him. +The Chancellor of the Empire, on the part of his master, +renounced the anti-popes and their schismatic adherents.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_474" id="Page_474">[474]</a></span></p> + +<p>Immediately the Doge, with a great suite both of the clergy +and laity, got on board the galleys, and waiting on Frederic, +rowed him in mighty state from the Lido to the capital. +The Emperor descended from the galley at the quay of the +Piazzetta. The Doge, the patriarch, his bishops and clergy, +and the people of Venice with their crosses and their +standards, marched in solemn procession before him to the +church of St. Mark. Alexander was seated before the vestibule +of the basilica, attended by his bishops and cardinals, +by the patriarch of Aquileja, by the archbishops and bishops +of Lombardy, all of them in state, and clothed in their church +robes. Frederic approached—"moved by the Holy Spirit, +venerating the Almighty in the person of Alexander, laying +aside his imperial dignity, and throwing off his mantle, he +prostrated himself at full length at the feet of the Pope. +Alexander, with tears in his eyes, raised him benignantly +from the ground, kissed him, blessed him; and immediately +the Germans of the train sang with a loud voice, 'We praise +thee, O Lord.' The Emperor then taking the Pope by the +right hand, led him to the church, and having received his +benediction, returned to the ducal palace."<a name="FNanchor_559" id="FNanchor_559"></a><a href="#Footnote_559" class="fnanchor">[559]</a> The ceremony +of humiliation was repeated the next day. The Pope himself, +at the request of Frederic, said mass at St. Mark's. The +Emperor again laid aside his imperial mantle, and taking a +wand in his hand, officiated as <i>verger</i>, driving the laity from +the choir, and preceding the pontiff to the altar. Alexander, +after reciting the gospel, preached to the people. The +Emperor put himself close to the pulpit in the attitude of +listening; and the pontiff, touched by this mark of his attention +(for he knew that Frederic did not understand a word he said), +commanded the patriarch of Aquileja to translate the +Latin discourse into the German tongue. The creed was +then chanted. Frederic made his oblation, and kissed the +Pope's feet, and, mass being over, led him by the hand to his +white horse. He held the stirrup, and would have led the +horse's rein to the water side, had not the Pope accepted of +the inclination for the performance, and affectionately dismissed +him with his benediction. Such is the substance +of the account left by the archbishop of Salerno, who was +present at the ceremony, and whose story is confirmed by +every subsequent narration. It would be not worth so +minute a record, were it not the triumph of liberty as well as +of superstition. The states of Lombardy owed to it the confirmation +of their privileges; and Alexander had reason to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_475" id="Page_475">[475]</a></span> +thank the Almighty, who had enabled an infirm, unarmed old +man to subdue a terrible and potent sovereign.<a name="FNanchor_560" id="FNanchor_560"></a><a href="#Footnote_560" class="fnanchor">[560]</a></p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_5" name="en_4_5"></a>5.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Oh for one hour of blind old Dandolo!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Th' octogenarian chief, Byzantium's conquering foe.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XII">Stanza xii.</a> lines 8 and 9.</p> + +<p>The reader will recollect the exclamation of the Highlander, +"<i>Oh, for one hour of Dundee</i>!" Henry Dandolo, +when elected Doge, in 1192, was eighty-five years of age. +When he commanded the Venetians at the taking of Constantinople, +he was consequently ninety-seven years old. At +this age he annexed the fourth and a half of the whole empire +of Romania,<a name="FNanchor_561" id="FNanchor_561"></a><a href="#Footnote_561" class="fnanchor">[561]</a> for so the Roman empire was then called, to +the title and to the territories of the Venetian Doge. The +three-eighths of this empire were preserved in the diplomas +until the Dukedom of Giovanni Dolfino, who made use of the +above designation in the year 1357.<a name="FNanchor_562" id="FNanchor_562"></a><a href="#Footnote_562" class="fnanchor">[562]</a></p> + + +<p>Dandolo led the attack on Constantinople in person. Two +ships, the Paradise and the Pilgrim, were tied together, and +a drawbridge or ladder let down from their higher yards to +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_476" id="Page_476">[476]</a></span> +the walls. The Doge was one of the first to rush into the +city. Then was completed, said the Venetians, the prophecy +of the Erythræan sibyl:—"A gathering together of the +powerful shall be made amidst the waves of the Adriatic, +under a blind leader; they shall beset the goat—they shall +profane Byzantium—they shall blacken her buildings—her +spoils shall be dispersed; a new goat shall bleat until they +have measured out and run over fifty-four feet nine inches +and a half."<a name="FNanchor_563" id="FNanchor_563"></a><a href="#Footnote_563" class="fnanchor">[563]</a> Dandolo died on the first day of June, 1205, +having reigned thirteen years six months and five days, and +was buried in the church of St. Sophia, at Constantinople. +Strangely enough it must sound, that the name of the rebel +apothecary who received the Doge's sword, and annihilated +the ancient government, in 1796-7, was Dandolo.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_6" name="en_4_6"></a>6.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But is not Doria's menace come to pass?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Are they not <i>bridled?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XIII">Stanza xiii.</a> lines 3 and 4.</p> + +<p>After the loss of the battle of Pola, and the taking of +Chioza on the 16th of August, 1379, by the united armament +of the Genoese and Francesco da Carrara, Signor of Padua, +the Venetians were reduced to the utmost despair. An +embassy was sent to the conquerors with a blank sheet of +paper, praying them to prescribe what terms they pleased, +and leave to Venice only her independence. The Prince of +Padua was inclined to listen to these proposals; but the +Genoese, who, after the victory at Pola, had shouted, "To +Venice! to Venice! and long live St. George!" determined +to annihilate their rival; and Peter Doria, their commander-in-chief, +returned this answer to the suppliants: "On God's +faith, gentlemen of Venice, ye shall have no peace from the +Signer of Padua, nor from our commune of Genoa, until we +have first put a rein upon those unbridled horses of yours, that +are upon the porch of your evangelist St. Mark. When we +have bridled them we shall keep you quiet. And this is the +pleasure of us and of our commune. As for these, my brothers +of Genoa, that you have brought with you to give up to us, I +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_477" id="Page_477">[477]</a></span> +will not have them: take them back; for in a few days +hence, I shall come and let them out of prison myself, both +these and all the others" [p. 727, E. <i>vide infra</i>]. In fact, the +Genoese did advance as far as Malamocco, within five miles +of the capital; but their own danger, and the pride of their +enemies, gave courage to the Venetians, who made prodigious +efforts, and many individual sacrifices, all of them carefully +recorded by their historians. Vettor Pisani was put at the +head of thirty-four galleys. The Genoese broke up from +Malamocco, and retired to Chioza in October; but they +again threatened Venice, which was reduced to extremities. +At this time, the 1st of January, 1380, arrived Carlo Zeno, +who had been cruising on the Genoese coast with fourteen +galleys. The Venetians were now strong enough to besiege +the Genoese. Doria was killed on the 22nd of January, by a +stone bullet, one hundred and ninety-five pounds' weight, discharged +from a bombard called the Trevisan. Chioza was +then closely invested; five thousand auxiliaries, among whom +were some English condottieri, commanded by one Captain +Ceccho, joined the Venetians. The Genoese, in their turn, +prayed for conditions, but none were granted, until, at last, +they surrendered at discretion; and, on the 24th of June, +1380, the Doge Contarini made his triumphal entry into +Chioza. Four thousand prisoners, nineteen galleys, many +smaller vessels and barks, with all the ammunition and arms, +and outfit of the expedition, fell into the hands of the conquerors, +who, had it not been for the inexorable answer of +Doria, would have gladly reduced their dominion to the city +of Venice. An account of these transactions is found in a +work called <i>The War of Chioza</i>,<a name="FNanchor_564" id="FNanchor_564"></a><a href="#Footnote_564" class="fnanchor">[564]</a> written by Daniel Chinazzo, +who was in Venice at the time.</p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_7" name="en_4_7"></a>7.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thin streets, and foreign aspects, such as must<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Too oft remind her who and what enthrals.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XV">Stanza xv.</a> lines 7 and 8.</p> + +<p>The population of Venice, at the end of the seventeenth +century, amounted to nearly two hundred thousand souls. At +the last census, taken two years ago [1816], it was no more than +about one hundred and three thousand; and it diminishes +daily. The commerce and the official employments, which +were to be the unexhausted source of Venetian grandeur, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_478" id="Page_478">[478]</a></span> +have both expired.<a name="FNanchor_565" id="FNanchor_565"></a><a href="#Footnote_565" class="fnanchor">[565]</a> Most of the patrician mansions are +deserted, and would gradually disappear, had not the Government, +alarmed by the demolition of seventy-two during the +last two years, expressly forbidden this sad resource of poverty. +Many remnants of the Venetian nobility are now scattered, +and confounded with the wealthier Jews upon the banks of +the Brenta, whose Palladian palaces have sunk, or are sinking, +in the general decay. Of the "gentiluomo Veneto," the +name is still known, and that is all. He is but the shadow +of his former self, but he is polite and kind. It surely may +be pardoned to him if he is querulous. Whatever may have +been the vices of the republic, and although the natural term +of its existence may be thought by foreigners to have arrived +in the due course of mortality, only one sentiment can be +expected from the Venetians themselves. At no time were +the subjects of the republic so unanimous in their resolution +to rally round the standard of St. Mark, as when it was for +the last time unfurled; and the cowardice and the treachery +of the few patricians who recommended the fatal neutrality, +were confined to the persons of the traitors themselves. The +present race cannot be thought to regret the loss of their +aristocratical forms, and too despotic government; they think +only on their vanished independence. They pine away at +the remembrance, and on this subject suspend for a moment +their gay good humour. Venice may be said, in the words +of the Scripture, "to die daily;" and so general and so +apparent is the decline, as to become painful to a stranger, +not reconciled to the sight of a whole nation expiring, as it +were, before his eyes. So artificial a creation, having lost +that principle which called it into life and supported its +existence, must fall to pieces at once, and sink more rapidly +than it rose. The abhorrence of slavery, which drove the +Venetians to the sea, has, since their disaster, forced them +to the land, where they may be at least overlooked amongst +the crowd of dependents, and not present the humiliating +spectacle of a whole nation loaded with recent chains. Their +liveliness, their affability, and that happy indifference which +constitution alone can give (for philosophy aspires to it in +vain), have not sunk under circumstances; but many peculiarities +of costume and manner have by degrees been lost; +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_479" id="Page_479">[479]</a></span> +and the nobles, with a pride common to all Italians who have +been masters, have not been persuaded to parade their insignificance. +That splendour which was a proof and a portion +of their power, they would not degrade into the trappings of +their subjection. They retired from the space which they +had occupied in the eyes of their fellow citizens; their continuance +in which would have been a symptom of acquiescence, +and an insult to those who suffered by the common misfortune. +Those who remained in the degraded capital, might be said +rather to haunt the scenes of their departed power, than to +live in them. The reflection, "who and what enthrals," will +hardly bear a comment from one who is, nationally, the +friend and the ally of the conqueror. It may, however, be +allowed to say thus much, that to those who wish to recover +their independence, any masters must be an object of detestation; +and it may be safely foretold that this unprofitable +aversion will not have been corrected before Venice shall +have sunk into the slime of her choked canals.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_8" name="en_4_8"></a>8.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Watering the tree which bears his Lady's name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With his melodious tears, he gave himself to Fame.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XXX">Stanza xxx.</a> lines 8 and 9.</p> + +<p>Thanks to the critical acumen of a Scotchman, we now +know as little of Laura as ever.<a name="FNanchor_566" id="FNanchor_566"></a><a href="#Footnote_566" class="fnanchor">[566]</a> The discoveries of the +Abbé de Sade, his triumphs, his sneers, can no longer instruct +or amuse. We must not, however, think that these memoirs<a name="FNanchor_567" id="FNanchor_567"></a><a href="#Footnote_567" class="fnanchor">[567]</a> +are as much a romance as Belisarius or the Incas, although +we are told so by Dr. Beattie, a great name, but a little +authority.<a name="FNanchor_568" id="FNanchor_568"></a><a href="#Footnote_568" class="fnanchor">[568]</a> His "labour" has not been in vain, notwithstanding +his "love" has, like most other passions, made +him ridiculous.<a name="FNanchor_569" id="FNanchor_569"></a><a href="#Footnote_569" class="fnanchor">[569]</a> The hypothesis which overpowered the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_480" id="Page_480">[480]</a></span> +struggling Italians, and carried along less interested critics +in its current, is run out. We have another proof that we +can never be sure that the paradox, the most singular, and +therefore having the most agreeable and authentic air, will +not give place to the re-established ancient prejudice.</p> + +<p>It seems, then, first, that Laura was born, lived, died, and +was buried, not in Avignon, but in the country. The fountains +of the Sorga, the thickets of Cabrieres, may resume their +pretensions, and the exploded <i>de la Bastie</i> again be heard +with complacency. The hypothesis of the Abbé had no +stronger props than the parchment sonnet and medal found +on the skeleton of the wife of Hugo de Sade, and the manuscript +note to the <i>Virgil</i> of Petrarch, now in the Ambrosian +library. If these proofs were both incontestable, the poetry +was written, the medal composed, cast, and deposited within +the space of twelve hours: and these deliberate duties were +performed round the carcass of one who died of the plague, +and was hurried to the grave on the day of her death. These +documents, therefore, are too decisive: they prove not the +fact, but the forgery. Either the sonnet or the Virgilian note +must be a falsification. The Abbé cites both as incontestably +true; the consequent deduction is inevitable—they are both +evidently false.<a name="FNanchor_570" id="FNanchor_570"></a><a href="#Footnote_570" class="fnanchor">[570]</a></p> + + +<p>Secondly, Laura was never married, and was a haughty +virgin rather than that <i>tender and prudent</i> wife who honoured +Avignon, by making that town the theatre of an honest +French passion, and played off for one and twenty years her +<i>little machinery</i> of alternate favours and refusals<a name="FNanchor_571" id="FNanchor_571"></a><a href="#Footnote_571" class="fnanchor">[571]</a> upon the +first poet of the age. It was, indeed, rather too unfair that a +female should be made responsible for eleven children upon +the faith of a misinterpreted abbreviation, and the decision +of a librarian.<a name="FNanchor_572" id="FNanchor_572"></a><a href="#Footnote_572" class="fnanchor">[572]</a> It is, however, satisfactory to think that the +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_481" id="Page_481">[481]</a></span> +love of Petrarch was not platonic. The happiness which he +prayed to possess but once and for a moment was surely not +of the mind,<a name="FNanchor_573" id="FNanchor_573"></a><a href="#Footnote_573" class="fnanchor">[573]</a> and something so very real as a marriage +project, with one who has been idly called a shadowy nymph, +may be, perhaps, detected in at least six places of his own +sonnets. The love of Petrarch was neither platonic nor +poetical; and if in one passage of his works he calls it +"amore veementeissimo ma unico ed onesto," he confesses, +in a letter to a friend, that it was guilty and perverse, that it +absorbed him quite, and mastered his heart.</p> + +<p>In this case, however, he was perhaps alarmed for the +culpability of his wishes; for the Abbé de Sade himself, who +certainly would not have been scrupulously delicate if he +could have proved his descent from Petrarch as well as Laura, +is forced into a stout defence of his virtuous grandmother. +As far as relates to the poet, we have no security for the +innocence, except perhaps in the constancy of his pursuit. +He assures us in his epistle to posterity, that, when arrived +at his fortieth year, he not only had in horror, but had lost +all recollection and image of any "irregularity." But the +birth of his natural daughter cannot be assigned earlier than +his thirty-ninth year; and either the memory or the morality +of the poet must have failed him, when he forgot or was +guilty of this <i>slip</i>.<a name="FNanchor_574" id="FNanchor_574"></a><a href="#Footnote_574" class="fnanchor">[574]</a> The weakest argument for the purity of +this love has been drawn from the permanence of its effects, +which survived the object of his passion. The reflection of +M. de la Bastie, that virtue alone is capable of making +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_482" id="Page_482">[482]</a></span> +impressions which death cannot efface, is one of those which +everybody applauds, and everybody finds not to be true, the +moment he examines his own breast or the records of human +feeling.<a name="FNanchor_575" id="FNanchor_575"></a><a href="#Footnote_575" class="fnanchor">[575]</a> Such apophthegms can do nothing for Petrarch or +for the cause of morality, except with the very weak and the +very young. He that has made even a little progress beyond +ignorance and pupilage cannot be edified with anything but +truth. What is called vindicating the honour of an individual +or a nation, is the most futile, tedious, and uninstructive of +all writing; although it will always meet with more applause +than that sober criticism, which is attributed to the malicious +desire of reducing a great man to the common standard of +humanity. It is, after all, not unlikely that our historian was +right in retaining his favourite hypothetic salvo, which secures +the author, although it scarcely saves the honour of the still +unknown mistress of Petrarch.<a name="FNanchor_576" id="FNanchor_576"></a><a href="#Footnote_576" class="fnanchor">[576]</a></p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_9" name="en_4_9"></a>9.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They keep his dust in Arquà, where he died.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XXXI">Stanza xxxi.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Petrarch retired to Arquà immediately on his return from +the unsuccessful attempt to visit Urban V. at Rome, in the +year 1370, and with the exception of his celebrated visit to +Venice in company with Francesco Novello da Carrara, he +appears to have passed the four last years of his life between +that charming solitude and Padua. For four months previous +to his death he was in a state of continual languor, and in +the morning of July the 19th, in the year 1374, was found +dead in his library chair with his head resting upon a book. +The chair is still shown amongst the precious relics of Arquà, +which, from the uninterrupted veneration that has been +attached to everything relative to this great man from the +moment of his death to the present hour, have, it may be +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_483" id="Page_483">[483]</a></span> +hoped, a better chance of authenticity than the Shaksperian +memorials of Stratford-upon-Avon.</p> + +<p>Arquà (for the last syllable is accented in pronunciation, +although the analogy of the English language has been +observed in the verse) is twelve miles from Padua, and about +three miles on the right of the high road to Rovigo, in the +bosom of the Euganean hills. After a walk of twenty minutes +across a flat well-wooded meadow, you come to a little blue +lake, clear but fathomless, and to the foot of a succession of +acclivities and hills, clothed with vineyards and orchards, +rich with fir and pomegranate trees, and every sunny fruit +shrub. From the banks of the lake the road winds into the +hills, and the church of Arquà is soon seen between a cleft +where two ridges slope towards each other, and nearly enclose +the village. The houses are scattered at intervals on the +steep sides of these summits; and that of the poet is on the +edge of a little knoll overlooking two descents, and commanding +a view, not only of the glowing gardens in the dales +immediately beneath, but of the wide plains, above whose low +woods of mulberry and willow, thickened into a dark mass by +festoons of vines, tall, single cypresses, and the spires of +towns, are seen in the distance, which stretches to the mouths +of the Po and the shores of the Adriatic. The climate of +these volcanic hills is warmer, and the vintage begins a week +sooner than in the plains of Padua. Petrarch is laid, for he +cannot be said to be buried, in a sarcophagus of red marble, +raised on four pilasters on an elevated base, and preserved +from an association with meaner tombs. It stands conspicuously +alone, but will be soon overshadowed by four +lately planted laurels. Petrarch's Fountain, for here everything +is Petrarch's, springs and expands itself beneath an +artificial arch, a little below the church, and abounds plentifully, +in the driest season, with that soft water which was the +ancient wealth of the Euganean hills. It would be more +attractive, were it not, in some seasons, beset with hornets +and wasps. No other coincidence could assimilate the tombs +of Petrarch and Archilochus. The revolutions of centuries +have spared these sequestered valleys, and the only violence +which has been offered to the ashes of Petrarch was prompted, +not by hate, but veneration. An attempt was made to rob +the sarcophagus of its treasure, and one of the arms was +stolen by a Florentine through a rent which is still visible. +The injury is not forgotten, but has served to identify the +poet with the country where he was born, but where he would +not live. A peasant boy of Arquà being asked who Petrarch +was, replied, "that the people of the parsonage knew all +about him, but that he only knew that he was a Florentine."</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_484" id="Page_484">[484]</a></span></p> +<p>Mr. Forsyth<a name="FNanchor_577" id="FNanchor_577"></a><a href="#Footnote_577" class="fnanchor">[577]</a> was not quite correct in saying that Petrarch +never returned to Tuscany after he had once quitted it when +a boy. It appears he did pass through Florence on his way +from Parma to Rome, and on his return in the year 1350, +and remained there long enough to form some acquaintance +with its most distinguished inhabitants. A Florentine gentleman, +ashamed of the aversion of the poet for his native +country, was eager to point out this trivial error in our accomplished +traveller, whom he knew and respected for an extraordinary +capacity, extensive erudition, and refined taste, +joined to that engaging simplicity of manners which has been +so frequently recognised as the surest, though it is certainly +not an indispensable, trait of superior genius.</p> + +<p>Every footstep of Laura's lover has been anxiously traced +and recorded. The house in which he lodged is shown in +Venice. The inhabitants of Arezzo, in order to decide the +ancient controversy between their city and the neighbouring +Ancisa, where Petrarch was carried when seven months old, +and remained until his seventh year, have designated by a +long inscription the spot where their great fellow citizen was +born. A tablet has been raised to him at Parma, in the +chapel of St. Agatha, at the cathedral, because he was arch-deacon +of that society, and was only snatched from his +intended sepulture in their church by a <i>foreign</i> death. Another +tablet, with a bust, has been erected to him at Pavia, on +account of his having passed the autumn of 1368 in that city, +with his son-in-law Brossano. The political condition which +has for ages precluded the Italians from the criticism of the +living, has concentrated their attention to the illustration of +the dead.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_10" name="en_4_10"></a>10.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Boileau, whose rash envy, etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XXXVIII">Stanza xxxviii.</a> lines 6 and 7.</p> + +<p>Perhaps the couplet in which Boileau depreciates Tasso +may serve as well as any other specimen to justify the opinion +given of the harmony of French verse—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"À Malherbe, à Racan, préfère Théophile,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Et le clinquant du Tasse à tout l'or de Virgile."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><i>Sat</i>. ix. v. 176.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_485" id="Page_485">[485]</a></span></p> + +<p>The biographer Serassi,<a name="FNanchor_578" id="FNanchor_578"></a><a href="#Footnote_578" class="fnanchor">[578]</a> out of tenderness to the reputation +either of the Italian or the French poet, is eager to +observe that the satirist recanted or explained away this +censure, and subsequently allowed the author of the <i>Jerusalem</i> +to be "a genius sublime, vast, and happily born for the +higher flights of poetry." To this we will add, that the recantation +is far from satisfactory, when we examine the whole +anecdote as reported by Olivet.<a name="FNanchor_579" id="FNanchor_579"></a><a href="#Footnote_579" class="fnanchor">[579]</a> The sentence pronounced +against him by Bouhours<a name="FNanchor_580" id="FNanchor_580"></a><a href="#Footnote_580" class="fnanchor">[580]</a> is recorded only to the confusion of +the critic, whose <i>palinodia</i> the Italian makes no effort to discover, +and would not, perhaps, accept. As to the opposition +which the <i>Jerusalem</i> encountered from the Cruscan academy, +who degraded Tasso from all competition with Ariosto, below +Bojardo and Pulci, the disgrace of such opposition must also +in some measure be laid to the charge of Alfonso, and the +court of Ferrara. For Leonard Salviati, the principal and +nearly the sole origin of this attack, was, there can be no +doubt,<a name="FNanchor_581" id="FNanchor_581"></a><a href="#Footnote_581" class="fnanchor">[581]</a> influenced by a hope to acquire the favour of the +House of Este: an object which he thought attainable by +exalting the reputation of a native poet at the expense of a +rival, then a <i>prisoner of state</i>. The hopes and efforts of +Salviati must serve to show the contemporary opinion as to +the nature of the poet's imprisonment; and will fill up the +measure of our indignation at the tyrant jailer.<a name="FNanchor_582" id="FNanchor_582"></a><a href="#Footnote_582" class="fnanchor">[582]</a> In fact, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_486" id="Page_486">[486]</a></span> +the antagonist of Tasso was not disappointed in the reception +given to his criticism; he was called to the court of Ferrara, +where, having endeavoured to heighten his claims to favour, +by panegyrics on the family of his sovereign,<a name="FNanchor_583" id="FNanchor_583"></a><a href="#Footnote_583" class="fnanchor">[583]</a> he was in turn +abandoned, and expired in neglected poverty. The opposition +of the Cruscans was brought to a close in six years after the +commencement of the controversy; and if the Academy owed +its first renown to having almost opened with such a paradox,<a name="FNanchor_584" id="FNanchor_584"></a><a href="#Footnote_584" class="fnanchor">[584]</a> +it is probable that, on the other hand, the care of his reputation +alleviated rather than aggravated the imprisonment of +the injured poet. The defence of his father and of himself, +for both were involved in the censure of Salviati, found +employment for many of his solitary hours, and the captive +could have been but little embarrassed to reply to accusations, +where, among other delinquencies, he was charged +with invidiously omitting, in his comparison between France +and Italy, to make any mention of the cupola of St. Maria +del Fiore at Florence.<a name="FNanchor_585" id="FNanchor_585"></a><a href="#Footnote_585" class="fnanchor">[585]</a> The late biographer of Ariosto seems +as if willing to renew the controversy by doubting the interpretation +of Tasso's self-estimation<a name="FNanchor_586" id="FNanchor_586"></a><a href="#Footnote_586" class="fnanchor">[586]</a> related in Serassi's life +of the poet. But Tiraboschi had before laid that rivalry at +rest,<a name="FNanchor_587" id="FNanchor_587"></a><a href="#Footnote_587" class="fnanchor">[587]</a> by showing that between Ariosto and Tasso it is not a +question of comparison, but of preference.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_11" name="en_4_11"></a>11.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">The lightning rent from Ariosto's bust<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The iron crown of laurel's mimicked leaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XLI">Stanza xli.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Before the remains of Ariosto were removed from the +Benedictine church to the library of Ferrara, his bust, which +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_487" id="Page_487">[487]</a></span> +surmounted the tomb, was struck by lightning, and a crown +of iron laurels melted away. The event has been recorded +by a writer of the last century.<a name="FNanchor_588" id="FNanchor_588"></a><a href="#Footnote_588" class="fnanchor">[588]</a> The transfer of these sacred +ashes, on the 6th of June, 1801, was one of the most brilliant +spectacles of the short-lived Italian Republic; and to consecrate +the memory of the ceremony, the once famous fallen +<i>Intrepidi</i> were revived and reformed into the Ariostean +academy. The large public place through which the procession +paraded was then for the first time called Ariosto Square. +The author of the <i>Orlando</i> is jealously claimed as the +Homer, not of Italy but Ferrara.<a name="FNanchor_589" id="FNanchor_589"></a><a href="#Footnote_589" class="fnanchor">[589]</a> The mother of Ariosto +was of Reggio, and the house in which he was born is carefully +distinguished by a tablet with these words: "Qui nacque +Ludovico Ariosto il giorno 8. di Settembre dell' anno 1474." +But the Ferrarese make light of the accident by which their +poet was born abroad, and claim him exclusively for their +own. They possess his bones, they show his arm-chair, and +his inkstand, and his autographs.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"...Hic illius anna,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hic currus fuit..."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The house where he lived, the room where he died, are designated +by his own replaced memorial,<a name="FNanchor_590" id="FNanchor_590"></a><a href="#Footnote_590" class="fnanchor">[590]</a> and by a recent +inscription. The Ferrarese are more jealous of their claims +since the animosity of Denina, arising from a cause which +their apologists mysteriously hint is not unknown to them, +ventured to degrade their soil and climate to a Boeotian in +capacity for all spiritual productions. A quarto volume has +been called forth by the detraction, and this supplement to +Barotti's Memoirs of the illustrious Ferarrese, has been considered +a triumphant reply to the "Quadro Storico Statistico dell' Alta Italia."</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_488" id="Page_488">[488]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_12" name="en_4_12"></a>12.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For the true laurel-wreath which Glory weaves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is of the tree no bolt of thunder cleaves.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XLI">Stanza xli.</a> lines 4 and 5.</p> + +<p>The eagle, the sea calf, the laurel, and the white vine,<a name="FNanchor_591" id="FNanchor_591"></a><a href="#Footnote_591" class="fnanchor">[591]</a> were +amongst the most approved preservatives against lightning: +Jupiter chose the first, Augustus Cæsar the second, and +Tiberius never failed to wear a wreath of the third when the +sky threatened a thunder-storm.<a name="FNanchor_592" id="FNanchor_592"></a><a href="#Footnote_592" class="fnanchor">[592]</a> These superstitions may +be received without a sneer in a country where the magical +properties of the hazel twig have not lost all their credit; +and perhaps the reader may not be much surprised that a +commentator on Suetonius has taken upon himself gravely to +disprove the imputed virtues of the crown of Tiberius, by +mentioning that a few years before he wrote a laurel was +actually struck by lightning at Rome.<a name="FNanchor_593" id="FNanchor_593"></a><a href="#Footnote_593" class="fnanchor">[593]</a></p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_13" name="en_4_13"></a>13.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Know, that the lightning sanctifies below.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XLI">Stanza xli.</a> line 8.</p> + +<p>The Curtian lake and the Ruminal fig-tree in the Forum, +having been touched by lightning, were held sacred, and the +memory of the accident was preserved by a <i>pateal</i>, or altar +resembling the mouth of a well, with a little chapel covering +the cavity supposed to be made by the thunder-bolt. Bodies +scathed and persons struck dead were thought to be incorruptible;<a name="FNanchor_594" id="FNanchor_594"></a><a href="#Footnote_594" class="fnanchor">[594]</a> +and a stroke not fatal conferred perpetual dignity +upon the man so distinguished by heaven.<a name="FNanchor_595" id="FNanchor_595"></a><a href="#Footnote_595" class="fnanchor">[595]</a></p> + +<p>Those killed by lightning were wrapped in a white garment, +and buried where they fell. The superstition was not confined +to the worshippers of Jupiter: the Lombards believed +in the omens furnished by lightning; and a Christian priest +confesses that, by a diabolical skill in interpreting thunder, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_489" id="Page_489">[489]</a></span> +a seer foretold to Agilulf, duke of Turin, an event which came +to pass, and gave him a queen and a crown.<a name="FNanchor_596" id="FNanchor_596"></a><a href="#Footnote_596" class="fnanchor">[596]</a> There was, +however, something equivocal in this sign, which the ancient +inhabitants of Rome did not always consider propitious; and +as the fears are likely to last longer than the consolations of +superstition, it is not strange that the Romans of the age of +Leo X. should have been so much terrified at some misinterpreted +storms as to require the exhortations of a scholar, who +arrayed all the learning on thunder and lightning to prove +the omen favourable; beginning with the flash which struck +the walls of Velitræ;, and including that which played upon a +gate at Florence, and foretold the pontificate of one of its +citizens.<a name="FNanchor_597" id="FNanchor_597"></a><a href="#Footnote_597" class="fnanchor">[597]</a></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_14" name="en_4_14"></a>14.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There, too, the Goddess loves in stone.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XLIX">Stanza xlix.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>The view of the Venus of Medicis instantly suggests the +lines in the <i>Seasons</i>; and the comparison of the object +with the description proves, not only the correctness of the +portrait, but the peculiar turn of thought, and, if the term +may be used, the sexual imagination of the descriptive poet. +The same conclusion may be deduced from another hint in +the same episode of Musidora; for Thomson's notion of the +privileges of favoured love must have been either very primitive, +or rather deficient in delicacy, when he made his grateful +nymph inform her discreet Damon that in some happier +moment he might perhaps be the companion of her bath:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The time may come you need not fly."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The reader will recollect the anecdote told in the <i>Life of Dr. +Johnson</i>. We will not leave the Florentine gallery without a +word on the <i>Whetter</i>. It seems strange that the character +of that disputed statue should not be entirely decided, at +least in the mind of any one who has seen a sarcophagus in +the vestibule of the Basilica of St. Paul without the walls, at +Rome, where the whole group of the fable of Marsyas is seen +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_490" id="Page_490">[490]</a></span> +in tolerable preservation; and the Scythian slave whetting +the knife, is represented exactly in the same position as this +celebrated masterpiece. The slave is not naked; but it is +easier to get rid of this difficulty than to suppose the knife in +the hand of the Florentine statue an instrument for shaving, +which it must be, if, as Lanzi supposes, the man is no other +than the barber of Julius Cæsar. Winckelmann, illustrating +a bas-relief of the same subject, follows the opinion of Leonard +Agostini, and his authority might have been thought conclusive, +even if the resemblance did not strike the most careless +observer.<a name="FNanchor_598" id="FNanchor_598"></a><a href="#Footnote_598" class="fnanchor">[598]</a> Amongst the bronzes of the same princely +collection, is still to be seen the inscribed tablet copied and +commented upon by Mr. Gibbon.<a name="FNanchor_599" id="FNanchor_599"></a><a href="#Footnote_599" class="fnanchor">[599]</a> Our historian found some +difficulties, but did not desist from his illustration. He might +be vexed to hear that his criticism has been thrown away on +an inscription now generally recognised to be a forgery.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_15" name="en_4_15"></a>15.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LIV">Stanza liv.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>This name will recall the memory, not only of those whose +tombs have raised the Santa Croce into the centre of pilgrimage—the +Mecca of Italy—but of her whose eloquence +was poured over the illustrious ashes, and whose voice is now +as mute as those she sung. <span class="smcap">Corinna</span> is no more; and with +her should expire the fear, the flattery, and the envy, which +threw too dazzling or too dark a cloud round the march of +genius, and forbad the steady gaze of disinterested criticism. +We have her picture embellished or distorted, as friendship +or detraction has held the pencil: the impartial portrait was +hardly to be expected from a contemporary. The immediate +voice of her survivors will, it is probable, be far from affording +a just estimate of her singular capacity. The gallantry, +the love of wonder, and the hope of associated fame, which +blunted the edge of censure, must cease to exist.—The dead +have no sex; they can surprise by no new miracles; they +can confer no privilege: Corinna has ceased to be a woman—she +is only an author; and it may be foreseen that many +will repay themselves for former complaisance, by a severity +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_491" id="Page_491">[491]</a></span> +to which the extravagance of previous praises may perhaps +give the colour of truth. The latest posterity—for to the +latest posterity they will assuredly descend—will have to +pronounce upon her various productions; and the longer the +vista through which they are seen, the more accurately +minute will be the object, the more certain the justice, of the +decision. She will enter into that existence in which the +great writers of all ages and nations are, as it were, associated +in a world of their own, and, from that superior sphere, shed +their eternal influence for the control and consolation of +mankind. But the individual will gradually disappear as +the author is more distinctly seen; some one, therefore, of +all those whom the charms of involuntary wit, and of easy +hospitality, attracted within the friendly circles of Coppet, +should rescue from oblivion those virtues which, although +they are said to love the shade, are, in fact, more frequently +chilled than excited by the domestic cares of private life. +Some one should be found to portray the unaffected graces +with which she adorned those dearer relationships, the performance +of whose duties is rather discovered amongst the +interior secrets, than seen in the outward management, of +family intercourse; and which, indeed, it requires the delicacy +of genuine affection to qualify for the eye of an indifferent +spectator. Some one should be found, not to celebrate, but +to describe, the amiable mistress of an open mansion, the +centre of a society, ever varied, and always pleased, the +creator of which, divested of the ambition and the arts of +public rivalry, shone forth only to give fresh animation to +those around her. The mother tenderly affectionate and +tenderly beloved, the friend unboundedly generous, but still +esteemed, the charitable patroness of all distress, cannot be +forgotten by those whom she cherished, and protected, and +fed. Her loss will be mourned the most where she was +known the best; and, to the sorrows of very many friends, +and more dependants, may be offered the disinterested regret +of a stranger, who, amidst the sublimer scenes of the Leman +lake, received his chief satisfaction from contemplating the +engaging qualities of the incomparable Corinna.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_16" name="en_4_16"></a>16.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i17">Here repose<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Angelo's—Alfieri's bones.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LIV">Stanza liv.</a> lines 6 and 7.</p> + +<p>Alfieri is the great name of this age. The Italians, without +waiting for the hundred years, consider him as "a poet +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_492" id="Page_492">[492]</a></span> +good in law."—His memory is the more dear to them because +he is the bard of freedom; and because, as such, his tragedies +can receive no countenance from any of their sovereigns. +They are but very seldom, and but very few of them, allowed +to be acted. It was observed by Cicero, that nowhere were +the true opinions and feelings of the Romans so clearly shown +as at the theatre.<a name="FNanchor_600" id="FNanchor_600"></a><a href="#Footnote_600" class="fnanchor">[600]</a> In the autumn of 1816, a celebrated +improvisatore exhibited his talents at the Opera-house of +Milan. The reading of the theses handed in for the subjects +of his poetry was received by a very numerous audience, for +the most part in silence, or with laughter; but when the +assistant, unfolding one of the papers, exclaimed +<i>The apotheosis of Victor Alfieri</i>, +the whole theatre burst into a shout, +and the applause was continued for some moments. The +lot did not fall on Alfieri; and the Signor Sgricci had to +pour forth his extemporary common-places on the bombardment +of Algiers. The choice, indeed, is not left to accident +quite so much as might be thought from a first view of the +ceremony; and the police not only takes care to look at +the papers beforehand, but, in case of any prudential afterthought, +steps in to correct the blindness of chance. The +proposal for deifying Alfieri was received with immediate +enthusiasm, the rather because it was conjectured there +would be no opportunity of carrying it into effect.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_17" name="en_4_17"></a>17.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here Machiavelli's earth returned to whence it rose.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LIV">Stanza liv.</a> line 9.</p> + +<p>The affectation of simplicity in sepulchral inscriptions, +which so often leaves us uncertain whether the structure +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_493" id="Page_493">[493]</a></span> +before us is an actual depository, or a cenotaph, or a simple +memorial not of death but life, has given to the tomb of +Machiavelli no information as to the place or time of the +birth or death, the age or parentage, of the historian.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">TANTO NOMINI NVLLVM PAR ELOGIVM<br /></span> +<span class="i6">NICCOLAVS MACHIAVELLI.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>There seems at least no reason why the name should not +have been put above the sentence which alludes to it.</p> + +<p>It will readily be imagined that the prejudices which have +passed the name of Machiavelli into an epithet proverbial +of iniquity exist no longer at Florence. His memory was +persecuted, as his life had been, for an attachment to liberty +incompatible with the new system of despotism, which succeeded +the fall of the free governments of Italy. He was +put to the torture for being a "libertine," that is, for wishing +to restore the republic of Florence; and such are the undying +efforts of those who are interested in the perversion, +not only of the nature of actions, but the meaning of words, +that what was once <i>patriotism</i>, has by degrees come to +signify <i>debauch</i>. We have ourselves outlived the old meaning +of "liberality," which is now another word for treason in +one country and for infatuation in all. It seems to have +been a strange mistake to accuse the author of <i>The Prince</i>, +as being a pander to tyranny; and to think that the Inquisition +would condemn his work for such a delinquency. The +fact is, that Machiavelli, as is usual with those against whom +no crime can be proved, was suspected of and charged with +atheism; and the first and last most violent opposers of +<i>The Prince</i> were both Jesuits, one of whom persuaded the +Inquisition "benchè fosse tardo," to prohibit the treatise, and +the other qualified the secretary of the Florentine republic +as no better than a fool. The father Possevin was proved +never to have read the book, and the father Lucchesini not +to have understood it. It is clear, however, that such critics +must have objected not to the slavery of the doctrines, but to +the supposed tendency of a lesson which shows how distinct +are the interests of a monarch from the happiness of mankind. +The Jesuits are re-established in Italy, and the last +chapter of <i>The Prince</i> may again call forth a particular +refutation from those who are employed once more in moulding +the minds of the rising generation, so as to receive the +impressions of despotism. The chapter [xxvi.] bears for title, +"Esortazione a liberare l'Italia da' Barbari," and concludes +with a <i>libertine</i> excitement to the future redemption of Italy. +"Non si deve adunque lasciar passare questa occasione, +acciocchè la Italia vegga dopo tanto tempo apparire un suo +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_494" id="Page_494">[494]</a></span> +redentore. Nè posso esprimere con quale amore ei fusse +ricevuto in tutte quelle provincie, che hanno patito per queste +illuvioni esterne, con qual sete di vendetta, con che ostinata +fede, con que pietà, con che lacrime. Quali porte se gli +serrerebbero? Quali popoli gli negherebbero l'ubbidienza? +Quale Italiano gli negherebbe l'ossequio? AD OGNUNO PUZZA +QUESTO BARBARO DOMINIO."<a name="FNanchor_601" id="FNanchor_601"></a><a href="#Footnote_601" class="fnanchor">[601]</a></p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_18" name="en_4_18"></a>18.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ungrateful Florence! Dante sleeps afar.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LVII">Stanza lvii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Dante was born in Florence, in the year 1261. He fought +in two battles, was fourteen times ambassador, and once +prior of the republic. When the party of Charles of Anjou +triumphed over the Bianchi, he was absent on an embassy +to Pope Boniface VIII., and was condemned to two years' +banishment, and to a fine of 8000 lire; on the non-payment +of which he was further punished by the sequestration of all +his property. The republic, however, was not content with +this satisfaction, for in 1772 was discovered in the archives +at Florence a sentence in which Dante is the eleventh of a +list of fifteen condemned in 1302 to be burnt alive; +<i>Talis perveniens igne comburatur sic quod moriatur</i>. +The pretext +for this judgment was a proof of unfair barter, extortions, and +illicit gains. +<i>Baracteriarum iniquarum extorsionum et illicitorum lucrorum</i>,<a name="FNanchor_602" id="FNanchor_602"></a><a href="#Footnote_602" class="fnanchor">[602]</a> +and with such an accusation it is not +strange that Dante should have always protested his innocence, +and the injustice of his fellow-citizens. His appeal +to Florence was accompanied by another to the Emperor +Henry; and the death of that Sovereign in 1313 was the +signal for a sentence of irrevocable banishment. He had +before lingered near Tuscany with hopes of recall; then +travelled into the north of Italy, where Verona had to boast +of his longest residence; and he finally settled at Ravenna, +which was his ordinary but not constant abode until his +death. The refusal of the Venetians to grant him a public +audience, on the part of Guido Novello da Polenta, his protector, +is said to have been the principal cause of this event, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_495" id="Page_495">[495]</a></span> +which happened in 1321. He was buried ("in sacra minorum +æde") at Ravenna, in a handsome tomb, which was erected +by Guido, restored by Bernardo Bembo in 1483, prætor for +that republic which had refused to hear him, again restored +by Cardinal Corsi, in 1692, and replaced by a more magnificent +sepulchre, constructed in 1780 at the expense of the +Cardinal Luigi Valenti Gonzaga. The offence or misfortune +of Dante was an attachment to a defeated party, and, as his +least favourable biographers allege against him, too great a +freedom of speech and haughtiness of manner. But the next +age paid honours almost divine to the exile. The Florentines, +having in vain and frequently attempted to recover his body, +crowned his image in a church,<a name="FNanchor_603" id="FNanchor_603"></a><a href="#Footnote_603" class="fnanchor">[603]</a> and his picture is still one +of the idols of their cathedral. They struck medals, they +raised statues to him. The cities of Italy, not being able to +dispute about his own birth, contended for that of his great +poem, and the Florentines thought it for their honour to +prove that he had finished the seventh Canto before they +drove him from his native city. Fifty-one years after his +death, they endowed a professorial chair for the expounding +of his verses, and Boccaccio was appointed to this patriotic +employment. The example was imitated by Bologna and +Pisa, and the commentators, if they performed but little +service to literature, augmented the veneration which beheld +a sacred or moral allegory in all the images of his mystic +muse. His birth and his infancy were discovered to have +been distinguished above those of ordinary men: the author +of the <i>Decameron</i>, his earliest biographer, relates that his +mother was warned in a dream of the importance of her +pregnancy: and it was found, by others, that at ten years of +age he had manifested his precocious passion for that wisdom +or theology, which, under the name of Beatrice, had been +mistaken for a substantial mistress. When the +<i>Divine Comedy</i> had been recognised as a mere mortal production, +and at the distance of two centuries, when criticism and +competition had sobered the judgment of the Italians, Dante +was seriously declared superior to Homer;<a name="FNanchor_604" id="FNanchor_604"></a><a href="#Footnote_604" class="fnanchor">[604]</a> +and though the +preference appeared to some casuists "an heretical blasphemy +worthy of the flames," the contest was vigorously +maintained for nearly fifty years. In later times it was made +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_496" id="Page_496">[496]</a></span> +a question which of the Lords of Verona could boast of +having patronised him,<a name="FNanchor_605" id="FNanchor_605"></a><a href="#Footnote_605" class="fnanchor">[605]</a> +and the jealous scepticism of one +writer would not allow Ravenna the undoubted possession +of his bones. Even the critical Tiraboschi was inclined to +believe that the poet had foreseen and foretold one of the +discoveries of Galileo.—Like the great originals of other +nations, his popularity has not always maintained the same +level. The last age seemed inclined to undervalue him as a +model and a study: and Bettinelli one day rebuked his pupil +Monti, for poring over the harsh and obsolete extravagances +of the <i>Commedia</i>. The present generation having recovered +from the Gallic idolatries of Cesarotti, has returned to the +ancient worship, and the <i>Danteggiare</i> of the northern +Italians is thought even indiscreet by the more moderate +Tuscans.</p> + +<p>There is still much curious information relative to the life +and writings of this great poet, which has not as yet been +collected even by the Italians; but the celebrated Ugo +Foscolo meditates to supply this defect, and it is not to be +regretted that this national work has been reserved for one +so devoted to his country and the cause of truth.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_19" name="en_4_19"></a>19.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Like Scipio, buried by the upbraiding shore:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thy factions, in their worse than civil war,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Proscribed, etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LVII">Stanza lvii.</a> lines 2, 3, and 4.</p> + +<p>The elder Scipio Africanus had a tomb if he was not buried +at Liternum, whither he had retired to voluntary banishment. +This tomb was near the sea-shore, and the story of an +inscription upon it, <i>Ingrata Patria</i>, having given a name to +a modern tower, is, if not true, an agreeable fiction. If he +was not buried, he certainly lived there.<a name="FNanchor_606" id="FNanchor_606"></a><a href="#Footnote_606" class="fnanchor">[606]</a></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i4">"In così angusta & solitaria uilla<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Era grand' huom che d' Aphrica s' appella,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Perche prima col ferro al uiuo aprilla."<a name="FNanchor_607" id="FNanchor_607"></a><a href="#Footnote_607" class="fnanchor">[607]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_497" id="Page_497">[497]</a></span>Ingratitude is generally supposed the vice peculiar to +republics; and it seems to be forgotten that for one instance +of popular inconstancy, we have a hundred examples of the +fall of courtly favourites. Besides, a people have often +repented—a monarch seldom or never. Leaving apart many +familiar proofs of this fact, a short story may show the +difference between even an aristocracy and the multitude.</p> + +<p>Vettor Pisani, having been defeated in 1354 at Portolongo, +and many years afterwards in the more decisive action of Pola, +by the Genoese, was recalled by the Venetian government, +and thrown into chains. The Avvogadori proposed to +behead him, but the supreme tribunal was content with the +sentence of imprisonment. Whilst Pisani was suffering this +unmerited disgrace, Chioza, in the vicinity of the capital,<a name="FNanchor_608" id="FNanchor_608"></a><a href="#Footnote_608" class="fnanchor">[608]</a> +was, by the assistance of the <i>Signor of Padua</i>, delivered into +the hands of Pietro Doria. At the intelligence of that +disaster, the great bell of St. Mark's tower tolled to arms, and +the people and the soldiery of the galleys were summoned to +the repulse of the approaching enemy; but they protested +they would not move a step, unless Pisani were liberated and +placed at their head. The great council was instantly +assembled: the prisoner was called before them, and the +Doge, Andrea Contarini, informed him of the demands of the +people, and the necessities of the state, whose only hope of +safety was reposed in his efforts, and who implored him to +forget the indignities he had endured in her service. "I +have submitted," replied the magnanimous republican, +"I have submitted to your deliberations without complaint; +I have supported patiently the pains of imprisonment, for +they were inflicted at your command: this is no time to +inquire whether I deserved them—the good of the republic +may have seemed to require it, and that which the republic +resolves is always resolved wisely. Behold me ready to lay +down my life for the preservation of my country." Pisani +was appointed generalissimo, and, by his exertions, in conjunction +with those of Carlo Zeno, the Venetians soon +recovered the ascendancy over their maritime rivals.</p> + +<p>The Italian communities were no less unjust to their +citizens than the Greek republics. Liberty, both with the +one and the other, seems to have been a national, not an +individual object: and, notwithstanding the boasted +<i>equality before the laws</i>, +which an ancient Greek writer<a name="FNanchor_609" id="FNanchor_609"></a><a href="#Footnote_609" class="fnanchor">[609]</a> +considered +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_498" id="Page_498">[498]</a></span> +the great distinctive mark between his countrymen and the +barbarians, the mutual rights of fellow citizens seem never to +have been the principal scope of the old democracies. The +world may have not yet seen an essay by the author of +<i>The Italian Republics</i>, +in which the distinction between the liberty +of former states, and the signification attached to that word +by the happier constitution of England, is ingeniously developed. +The Italians, however, when they had ceased to be +free, still looked back with a sigh upon those times of turbulence, +when every citizen might rise to a share of sovereign +power, and have never been taught fully to appreciate the +repose of a monarchy. Sperone Speroni, when Francis +Maria II. Duke of Rovere proposed the question, "which +was preferable, the republic or the principality—the perfect +and not durable, or the less perfect and not so liable to +change," replied, "that our happiness is to be measured by +its quality, not by its duration; and that he preferred to live +for one day like a man, than for a hundred years like a +brute, a stock, or a stone." This was thought, and called a +<i>magnificent</i> answer down to the last days of Italian +servitude.<a name="FNanchor_610" id="FNanchor_610"></a><a href="#Footnote_610" class="fnanchor">[610]</a></p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_20" name="en_4_20"></a>20.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">And the crown<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Petrarch's laureate brow supremely wore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Upon a far and foreign soil had grown.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LVII">Stanza lvii.</a> lines 6, 7, and 8.</p> + +<p>The Florentines did not take the opportunity of Petrarch's +short visit to their city in 1350 to revoke the decree which +confiscated the property of his father, who had been banished +shortly after the exile of Dante. His crown did not dazzle +them; but when in the next year they were in want of his +assistance in the formation of their university, they repented +of their injustice, and Boccaccio was sent to Padua to entreat +the laureate to conclude his wanderings in the bosom of his +native country, where he might finish his <i>immortal Africa</i>, +and enjoy, with his recovered possessions, the esteem of all +classes of his fellow citizens. They gave him the option of the +book and the science he might condescend to expound: they +called him the glory of his country, who was dear, and who +would be dearer to them; and they added, that if there was +anything unpleasing in their letter, he ought to return +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_499" id="Page_499">[499]</a></span> +amongst them, were it only to correct their style.<a name="FNanchor_611" id="FNanchor_611"></a><a href="#Footnote_611" class="fnanchor">[611]</a> +Petrarch +seemed at first to listen to the flattery and to the entreaties +of his friend, but he did not return to Florence, and preferred +a pilgrimage to the tomb of Laura and the shades of +Vaucluse.</p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_21" name="en_4_21"></a>21.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Boccaccio to his parent earth bequeathed<br /></span> +<span class="i2">His dust.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LVIII">Stanza lviii.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>Boccaccio was buried in the church of St. Michael and St. +James, at Certaldo, a small town in the Valdelsa, which was by +some supposed the place of his birth. There he passed the latter +part of his life in a course of laborious study, which shortened +his existence; and there might his ashes have been secure, +if not of honour, at least of repose. But the "hyena bigots" of +Certaldo tore up the tombstone of Boccaccio and ejected it +from the holy precincts of St. Michael and St. James. The +occasion, and, it may be hoped, the excuse, of this ejectment +was the making of a new floor for the church; but the fact +is, that the tombstone was taken up and thrown aside at the +bottom of the building. Ignorance may share the sin with +bigotry. It would be painful to relate such an exception to +the devotion of the Italians for their great names, could it +not be accompanied by a trait more honourably conformable +to the general character of the nation. The principal person +of the district, the last branch of the house of Medicis, +afforded that protection to the memory of the insulted dead +which her best ancestors had dispensed upon all contemporary +merit. The Marchioness Lenzoni rescued the tombstone +of Boccaccio from the neglect in which it had some +time lain, and found for it an honourable elevation in her +own mansion. She has done more: the house in which the +poet lived has been as little respected as his tomb, and is +falling to ruin over the head of one indifferent to the name +of its former tenant. It consists of two or three little +chambers, and a low tower, on which Cosmo II. affixed an +inscription. This house she has taken measures to purchase, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_500" id="Page_500">[500]</a></span> +and proposes to devote to it that care and consideration +which are attached to the cradle and to the roof of genius.</p> + +<p>This is not the place to undertake the defence of Boccaccio; +but the man who exhausted his little patrimony in +the acquirement of learning, who was amongst the first, if +not the first, to allure the science and the poetry of Greece to +the bosom of Italy;—who not only invented a new style, but +founded, or certainly fixed, a new language; who, besides the +esteem of every polite court of Europe, was thought worthy +of employment by the predominant republic of his own +country, and, what is more, of the friendship of Petrarch, who +lived the life of a philosopher and a freeman, and who died +in the pursuit of knowledge,—such a man might have found +more consideration than he has met with from the priest of +Certaldo, and from a late English traveller, who strikes off his +portrait as an odious, contemptible, licentious writer, whose +impure remains should be suffered to rot without a record.<a name="FNanchor_612" id="FNanchor_612"></a><a href="#Footnote_612" class="fnanchor">[612]</a> +That English traveller, unfortunately for those who have to +deplore the loss of a very amiable person, is beyond all +criticism; but the mortality which did not protect Boccaccio +from Mr. Eustace, must not defend Mr. Eustace from the +impartial judgment of his successors. Death may canonise +his virtues, not his errors; and it may be modestly pronounced +that he transgressed, not only as an author, but as a man, +when he evoked the shade of Boccaccio in company with +that of Aretine, amidst the sepulchres of Santa Croce, merely +to dismiss it with indignity. As far as respects</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Il flagello de' Principi,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Il divin Pietro Aretino,"<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_501" id="Page_501">[501]</a></span></p> + +<p style="text-indent:0;">it is of little import what censure is passed upon a coxcomb +who owes his present existence to the above burlesque +character given to him by the poet, whose amber has preserved +many other grubs and worms: but to classify Boccaccio +with such a person, and to excommunicate his very +ashes, must of itself make us doubt of the qualification of the +classical tourist for writing upon Italian, or, indeed, upon +any other literature; for ignorance on one point may incapacitate +an author merely for that particular topic, but +subjection to a professional prejudice must render him an +unsafe director on all occasions. Any perversion and injustice +may be made what is vulgarly called a "case of conscience," +and this poor excuse is all that can be offered for +the priest of Certaldo, or the author of the <i>Classical Tour</i>. +It would have answered the purpose to confine the censure +to the novels of Boccaccio; and gratitude to that source +which supplied the muse of Dryden with her last and most +harmonious numbers might, perhaps, have restricted that +censure to the objectionable qualities of the hundred tales. +At any rate the repentance of Boccaccio might have arrested +his exhumation, and it should have been recollected and told, +that in his old age he wrote a letter entreating his friend to +discourage the reading of the <i>Decameron</i>, for the sake of +modesty, and for the sake of the author, who would not have +an apologist always at hand to state in his excuse that he +wrote it when young, and at the command of his superiors.<a name="FNanchor_613" id="FNanchor_613"></a><a href="#Footnote_613" class="fnanchor">[613]</a> +It is neither the licentiousness of the writer, nor the evil +propensities of the reader, which have given to the <i>Decameron</i> +alone, of all the works of Boccaccio, a perpetual popularity. +The establishment of a new and delightful dialect conferred +an immortality on the works in which it was first fixed. The +sonnets of Petrarch were, for the same reason, fated to survive +his self-admired <i>Africa</i>, "the favourite of kings." The +invariable traits of nature and feeling with which the novels, +as well as the verses, abound, have doubtless been the chief +source of the foreign celebrity of both authors; but Boccaccio, +as a man, is no more to be estimated by that work, than +Petrarch is to be regarded in no other light than as the lover +of Laura. Even, however, had the father of the Tuscan +prose been known only as the author of the <i>Decameron</i>, a +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_502" id="Page_502">[502]</a></span> +considerate writer would have been cautious to pronounce a +sentence irreconcilable with the unerring voice of many ages +and nations. An irrevocable value has never been stamped +upon any work solely recommended by impurity.</p> + +<p>The true source of the outcry against Boccaccio, which +began at a very early period, was the choice of his scandalous +personages in the cloisters as well as the courts; but +the princes only laughed at the gallant adventures so unjustly +charged upon queen Theodelinda, whilst the priesthood +cried shame upon the debauches drawn from the convent +and the hermitage; and most probably for the opposite +reason, namely, that the picture was faithful to the life. +Two of the novels are allowed to be facts usefully turned into +tales to deride the canonisation of rogues and laymen. Ser +Ciappelletto and Marcellinus are cited with applause even by +the decent Muratori.<a name="FNanchor_614" id="FNanchor_614"></a><a href="#Footnote_614" class="fnanchor">[614]</a> +The great Arnaud, as he is quoted +in Bayle, states, that a new edition of the novels was proposed, +of which the expurgation consisted in omitting the +words "monk" and "nun," and tacking the immoralities to +other names. The literary history of Italy particularises no +such edition; but it was not long before the whole of Europe +had but one opinion of the <i>Decameron</i>; and the absolution +of the author seems to have been a point settled at least a +hundred years ago: "On se feroit siffler si l' on prétendoit +convaincre Boccace de n'avoir pas été honnête homme, puis +qu'il a fait le Décameron." So said one of the best men, and +perhaps the best critic that ever lived—the very martyr to +impartiality.<a name="FNanchor_615" id="FNanchor_615"></a><a href="#Footnote_615" class="fnanchor">[615]</a> +But as this information, that in the beginning +of the last century one would have been hooted at for pretending +that Boccaccio was not a good man, may seem to +come from one of those enemies who are to be suspected, +even when they make us a present of truth, a more acceptable +contrast with the proscription of the body, soul, and +muse of Boccaccio may be found in a few words from the +virtuous, the patriotic contemporary, who thought one of the +tales of this impure writer worthy a Latin version from his own +pen. "I have remarked elsewhere," says Petrarch, writing +to Boccaccio, "that the book itself has been worried by certain +dogs, but stoutly defended by your staff and voice. Nor +was I astonished, for I have had proof of the vigour of your +mind, and I know you have fallen on that unaccommodating +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_503" id="Page_503">[503]</a></span> +incapable race of mortals, who, whatever they either like not, +or know not, or cannot do, are sure to reprehend in others; +and on those occasions only put on a show of learning and +eloquence, but otherwise are entirely dumb."<a name="FNanchor_616" id="FNanchor_616"></a><a href="#Footnote_616" class="fnanchor">[616]</a></p> + + +<p>It is satisfactory to find that all the priesthood do not +resemble those of Certaldo, and that one of them who did not +possess the bones of Boccaccio would not lose the opportunity +of raising a cenotaph to his memory. Bevius, canon of Padua, +at the beginning of the sixteenth century, erected at Arquà, +opposite to the tomb of the Laureate, a tablet, in which he +associated Boccaccio to the equal honours of Dante and of Petrarch.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_22" name="en_4_22"></a>22.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What is her Pyramid of precious stones?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LX">Stanza lx.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Our veneration for the Medici begins with Cosmo and +expires with his grandson; that stream is pure only at the +source; and it is in search of some memorial of the virtuous +republicans of the family that we visit the church of St. +Lorenzo at Florence. The tawdry, glaring, unfinished chapel +in that church, designed for the mausoleum of the Dukes of +Tuscany, set round with crowns and coffins, gives birth to no +emotions but those of contempt for the lavish vanity of a race +of despots, whilst the pavement slab, simply inscribed to the +Father of his Country, reconciles us to the name of Medici.<a name="FNanchor_617" id="FNanchor_617"></a><a href="#Footnote_617" class="fnanchor">[617]</a> +It was very natural for Corinna<a name="FNanchor_618" id="FNanchor_618"></a><a href="#Footnote_618" class="fnanchor">[618]</a> +to suppose that the statue +raised to the Duke of Urbino in the <i>capella de' depositi</i>, was +intended for his great namesake; but the magnificent Lorenzo +is only the sharer of a coffin half hidden in a niche of the +sacristy. The decay of Tuscany dates from the sovereignty +of the Medici. Of the sepulchral peace which succeeded to +the establishment of the reigning families in Italy, our own +Sidney has given us a glowing, but a faithful picture. +"Notwithstanding all the seditions of Florence, and other cities of +Tuscany, the horrid factions of Guelphs and Ghibelins, Neri +and Bianchi, nobles and commons, they continued populous, +strong, and exceeding rich; but in the space of less than a +hundred and fifty years, the peaceable reign of the Medices +is thought to have destroyed nine parts in ten of the people +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_504" id="Page_504">[504]</a></span> +of that province. Amongst other things it is remarkable, +that when Philip II. of Spain gave Sienna to the Duke of +Florence, his ambassador then at Rome sent him word, that +he had given away more than 650,000 subjects; and it is not +believed there are now 20,000 souls inhabiting that city and +territory. Pisa, Pistoia, Arezzo, Cortona, and other towns, +that were then good and populous, are in the like proportion +diminished, and Florence more than any. When that city +had been long troubled with seditions, tumults, and wars, for +the most part unprosperous, they still retained such strength, +that when Charles VIII. of France, being admitted as a +friend with his whole army, which soon after conquered the +kingdom of Naples, thought to master them, the people, +taking arms, struck such a terror into him, that he was glad +to depart upon such conditions as they thought fit to impose. +Machiavel reports, that in that time Florence alone, with the +Val d'Arno, a small territory belonging to that city, could, in +a few hours, by the sound of a bell, bring together 135,000 +well-armed men; whereas now that city, with all the others +in that province, are brought to such despicable weakness, +emptiness, poverty, and baseness, that they can neither resist +the oppressions of their own prince, nor defend him or themselves +if they were assaulted by a foreign enemy. The people +are dispersed or destroyed, and the best families sent to seek +habitations in Venice, Genoa, Rome, Naples, and Lucca. +This is not the effect of war or pestilence; they enjoy a +perfect peace, and suffer no other plague than the government +they are under."<a name="FNanchor_619" id="FNanchor_619"></a><a href="#Footnote_619" class="fnanchor">[619]</a> +From the usurper Cosmo down to +the imbecile Gaston, we look in vain for any of those unmixed +qualities which should raise a patriot to the command of his +fellow-citizens. The Grand Dukes, and particularly the third +Cosmo, had operated so entire a change in the Tuscan +character, that the candid Florentines, in excuse for some +imperfections in the philanthropic system of Leopold, are +obliged to confess that the sovereign was the only liberal +man in his dominions. Yet that excellent prince himself +had no other notion of a national assembly, than of a body +to represent the wants and wishes, not the will of the people.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_505" id="Page_505">[505]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_23" name="en_4_23"></a>23.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">An Earthquake reeled unheededly away!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LXIII">Stanza lxiii.</a> line 5.</p> + + +<p>"And such was their mutual animosity, so intent were they +upon the battle, that the earthquake, which overthrew in +great part many of the cities of Italy, which turned the course +of rapid streams, poured back the sea upon the rivers, and +tore down the very mountains, was not felt by one of the +combatants."<a name="FNanchor_620" id="FNanchor_620"></a><a href="#Footnote_620" class="fnanchor">[620]</a> +Such is the description of Livy. It may be +doubted whether modern tactics would admit of such an abstraction.</p> + +<p>The site of the battle of Thrasimene is not to be mistaken. +The traveller from the village under Cortona to Casa di +Piano, the next stage on the way to Rome, has for the first +two or three miles, around him, but more particularly to the +right, that flat land which Hannibal laid waste in order to +induce the Consul Flaminius to move from Arezzo. On his +left, and in front of him, is a ridge of hills bending down +towards the lake of Thrasimene, called by Livy "montes +Cortonenses," and now named the Gualandra. These hills +he approaches at Ossaja, a village which the itineraries pretend +to have been so denominated from the bones found +there: but there have been no bones found there, and the +battle was fought on the other side of the hill. From Ossaja +the road begins to rise a little, but does not pass into the +roots of the mountains until the sixty-seventh milestone +from Florence. The ascent thence is not steep but perpetual, +and continues for twenty minutes. The lake is soon +seen below on the right, with Borghetto, a round tower, close +upon the water; and the undulating hills partially covered +with wood, amongst which the road winds, sink by degrees +into the marshes near to this tower. Lower than the road, +down to the right amidst these woody hillocks, Hannibal +placed his horse,<a name="FNanchor_621" id="FNanchor_621"></a><a href="#Footnote_621" class="fnanchor">[621]</a> +in the jaws of, or rather above the pass, +which was between the lake and the present road, and most +probably close to Borghetto, just under the lowest of the +"tumuli."<a name="FNanchor_622" id="FNanchor_622"></a><a href="#Footnote_622" class="fnanchor">[622]</a> On a summit to the left, above the road, is an +old circular ruin, which the peasants call "the tower of +Hannibal the Carthaginian." Arrived at the highest point +of the road, the traveller has a partial view of the fatal plain, +which opens fully upon him as he descends the Gualandra. +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_506" id="Page_506">[506]</a></span> +He soon finds himself in a vale enclosed to the left, and in +front and behind him by the Gualandra hills, bending round +in a segment larger than a semicircle, and running down at +each end to the lake, which obliques to the right and forms +the chord of this mountain arc. The position cannot be +guessed at from the plains of Cortona, nor appears to be so +completely enclosed unless to one who is fairly within the +hills. It then, indeed, appears "a place made as it were +on purpose for a snare," <i>locus insidiis natus</i>. "Borghetto +is then found to stand in a narrow marshy pass close to the +hill, and to the lake, whilst there is no other outlet at the +opposite turn of the mountains than through the little town +of Passignano, which is pushed into the water by the foot of +a high rocky acclivity." There is a woody eminence branching +down from the mountains into the upper end of the +plain nearer to the side of Passignano, and on this stands a +white village called Torre. Polybius seems to allude to this +eminence as the one on which Hannibal encamped, and +drew out his heavy-armed Africans and Spaniards in a +conspicuous position.<a name="FNanchor_623" id="FNanchor_623"></a><a href="#Footnote_623" class="fnanchor">[623]</a> From this spot he despatched his +Balearic and light-armed troops round through the Gualandra +heights to the right, so as to arrive unseen and form +an ambush amongst the broken acclivities which the road +now passes, and to be ready to act upon the left flank and +above the enemy, whilst the horse shut up the pass behind. +Flaminius came to the lake near Borghetto at sunset; and, +without sending any spies before him, marched through the +pass the next morning before the day had quite broken, so +that he perceived nothing of the horse and light troops above +and about him, and saw only the heavy-armed Carthaginians +in front on the hill of Torre. The consul began to +draw out his army in the flat, and in the mean time the +horse in ambush occupied the pass behind him at Borghetto. +Thus the Romans were completely enclosed, having the lake +on the right, the main army on the hill of Torre in front, the +Gualandra hills filled with the light-armed on their left flank, +and being prevented from receding by the cavalry, who, the +further they advanced, stopped up all the outlets in the rear. +A fog rising from the lake now spread itself over the army +of the consul, but the high lands were in the sunshine, and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_507" id="Page_507">[507]</a></span> +all the different corps in ambush looked towards the hill of +Torre for the order of attack. Hannibal gave the signal, +and moved down from his post on the height. At the same +moment all his troops on the eminences behind and in the +flank of Flaminius rushed forwards as it were with one accord +into the plain. The Romans, who were forming their array +in the mist, suddenly heard the shouts of the enemy amongst +them on every side, and before they could fall into their +ranks, or draw their swords, or see by whom they were +attacked, felt at once that they were surrounded and lost.</p> + +<p>There are two little rivulets which run from the Gualandra +into the lake. The traveller crosses the first of these +at about a mile after he comes into the plain, and this +divides the Tuscan from the Papal territories. The second, +about a quarter of a mile further on, is called "the bloody +rivulet;" and the peasants point out an open spot to the left +between the "Sanguinetto" and the hills, which, they say, +was the principal scene of slaughter. The other part of +the plain is covered with thick-set olive-trees in corn grounds, +and is nowhere quite level, except near the edge of the lake. +It is, indeed, most probable that the battle was fought near +this end of the valley, for the six thousand Romans, who, at +the beginning of the action, broke through the enemy, +escaped to the summit of an eminence which must have been +in this quarter, otherwise they would have had to traverse +the whole plain, and to pierce through the main army of Hannibal.</p> + +<p>The Romans fought desperately for three hours; but the +death of Flaminius was the signal for a general dispersion. +The Carthaginian horse then burst in upon the fugitives, and +the lake, the marsh about Borghetto, but chiefly the plain of +the Sanguinetto and the passes of the Gualandra, were strewed +with dead. Near some old walls on a bleak ridge to the left +above the rivulet, many human bones have been repeatedly +found, and this has confirmed the pretensions and the name +of the "stream of blood."</p> + +<p>Every district of Italy has its hero. In the north some +painter is the usual genius of the place, and the foreign Julio +Romano more than divides Mantua with her native Virgil.<a name="FNanchor_624" id="FNanchor_624"></a><a href="#Footnote_624" class="fnanchor">[624]</a> +To the south we hear of Roman names. Near Thrasimene +tradition is still faithful to the fame of an enemy, and Hannibal +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_508" id="Page_508">[508]</a></span> +the Carthaginian is the only ancient name remembered on +the banks of the Perugian lake. Flaminius is unknown; +but the postilions on that road have been taught to show the +very spot where <i>Il Console Romano</i> was slain. Of all who +fought and fell in the battle of Thrasimene, the historian +himself has, besides the generals and Maharbal, preserved +indeed only a single name. You overtake the Carthaginian +again on the same road to Rome. The antiquary, that is, +the hostler of the posthouse at Spoleto, tells you that his +town repulsed the victorious enemy, and shows you the gate +still called <i>Porta di Annibale</i>. It is hardly worth while to +remark that a French travel writer, well known by the name +of the President Dupaty, saw Thrasimene in the lake of +Bolsena, which lay conveniently on his way from Sienna to Rome.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_24" name="en_4_24"></a>24.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, dread Statue! still existent in<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The austerest form of naked majesty.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LXXXVII">Stanza lxxxvii.</a> lines 1 and 2.</p> + +<p>The projected division of the Spada Pompey has already +been recorded by the historian of the <i>Decline and Fall of +the Roman Empire</i>. Mr. Gibbon found it in the memorials +of Flaminius Vacca; and it may be added to his mention of +it, that Pope Julius III. gave the contending owners five +hundred crowns for the statue, and presented it to Cardinal +Capo di Ferro, who had prevented the judgment of Solomon +from being executed upon the image. In a more civilised +age this statue was exposed to an actual operation: for the +French, who acted the Brutus of Voltaire in the Coliseum, +resolved that their Cæsar should fall at the base of that +Pompey, which was supposed to have been sprinkled with +the blood of the original dictator. The nine-foot hero was +therefore removed to the arena of the amphitheatre, and, to +facilitate its transport, suffered the temporary amputation +of its right arm. The republican tragedians had to plead +that the arm was a restoration: but their accusers do not +believe that the integrity of the statue would have protected +it. The love of finding every coincidence, has discovered +the true Cæsarian ichor in a stain near the right knee; but +colder criticism has rejected not only the blood, but the +portrait, and assigned the globe of power rather to the first +of the emperors than to the last of the republican masters +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_509" id="Page_509">[509]</a></span> +of Rome. Winckelmann<a name="FNanchor_625" id="FNanchor_625"></a><a href="#Footnote_625" class="fnanchor">[625]</a> +is loth to allow an heroic statue +of a Roman citizen, but the Grimani Agrippa, a contemporary +almost, is heroic; and naked Roman figures were +only very rare, not absolutely forbidden. The face accords +much better with the "hominem integrum et castum et gravem,"<a name="FNanchor_626" id="FNanchor_626"></a><a href="#Footnote_626" class="fnanchor">[626]</a> +than with any of the busts of Augustus, and is too +stern for him who was beautiful, says Suetonius, at all +periods of his life. The pretended likeness to Alexander +the Great cannot be discerned, but the traits resemble the +medal of Pompey.<a name="FNanchor_627" id="FNanchor_627"></a><a href="#Footnote_627" class="fnanchor">[627]</a> +The objectionable globe may not have +been an ill-applied flattery to him who found Asia Minor the +boundary, and left it the centre of the Roman empire. It +seems that Winckelmann has made a mistake in thinking +that no proof of the identity of this statue with that which +received the bloody sacrifice can be derived from the spot +where it was discovered.<a name="FNanchor_628" id="FNanchor_628"></a><a href="#Footnote_628" class="fnanchor">[628]</a> +Flaminius Vacca says +<i>sotto una cantina</i>, and this cantina is known to have been in the +Vicolo de' Leutari, near the Cancellaria; a position corresponding +exactly to that of the Janus before the basilica of +Pompey's theatre, to which Augustus transferred the statue +after the <i>curia</i> was either burnt or taken down.<a name="FNanchor_629" id="FNanchor_629"></a><a href="#Footnote_629" class="fnanchor">[629]</a> +Part of the "Pompeian shade,"<a name="FNanchor_630" id="FNanchor_630"></a><a href="#Footnote_630" class="fnanchor">[630]</a> +the portico, existed in the beginning +of the XVth century, and the <i>atrium</i> was still called +<i>Satrum</i>. So says Blondus.<a name="FNanchor_631" id="FNanchor_631"></a><a href="#Footnote_631" class="fnanchor">[631]</a> +At all events, so imposing is +the stern majesty of the statue, and so memorable is the +story, that the play of the imagination leaves no room for +the exercise of the judgment, and the fiction, if a fiction it is, +operates on the spectator with an effect not less powerful +than truth.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_510" id="Page_510">[510]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_25" name="en_4_25"></a>25.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And thou, the thunder-stricken nurse of Rome!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_LXXXVIII">Stanza lxxxviii.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>Ancient Rome, like modern Sienna, abounded most probably +with images of the foster-mother of her founder; but +there were two she-wolves of whom history makes particular +mention. One of these, <i>of brass in ancient work</i>, was seen +by Dionysius<a name="FNanchor_632" id="FNanchor_632"></a><a href="#Footnote_632" class="fnanchor">[632]</a> +at the temple of Romulus, under the Palatine, +and is universally believed to be that mentioned by the +Latin historian, as having been made from the money collected +by a fine on usurers, and as standing under the +Ruminal fig-tree.<a name="FNanchor_633" id="FNanchor_633"></a><a href="#Footnote_633" class="fnanchor">[633]</a> +The other was that which Cicero<a name="FNanchor_634" id="FNanchor_634"></a><a href="#Footnote_634" class="fnanchor">[634]</a> has +celebrated both in prose and verse, and which the historian +Dion also records as having suffered the same accident as is +alluded to by the orator.<a name="FNanchor_635" id="FNanchor_635"></a><a href="#Footnote_635" class="fnanchor">[635]</a> +The question agitated by the +antiquaries is, whether the wolf now in the Conservator's +Palace is that of Livy and Dionysius, or that of Cicero, or +whether it is neither one nor the other. The earlier writers +differ as much as the moderns: Lucius Faunus<a name="FNanchor_636" id="FNanchor_636"></a><a href="#Footnote_636" class="fnanchor">[636]</a> +says, that +it is the one alluded to by both, which is impossible, and +also by Virgil, which may be. Fulvius Ursinus<a name="FNanchor_637" id="FNanchor_637"></a><a href="#Footnote_637" class="fnanchor">[637]</a> +calls it the +wolf of Dionysius, and Marlianus<a name="FNanchor_638" id="FNanchor_638"></a><a href="#Footnote_638" class="fnanchor">[638]</a> +talks of it as the one +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_511" id="Page_511">[511]</a></span> +mentioned by Cicero. To him Rycquius <i>tremblingly</i> assents.<a name="FNanchor_639" id="FNanchor_639"></a><a href="#Footnote_639" class="fnanchor">[639]</a> +Nardini is inclined to suppose it may be one of the many +wolves preserved in ancient Rome; but of the two rather +bends to the Ciceronian statue.<a name="FNanchor_640" id="FNanchor_640"></a><a href="#Footnote_640" class="fnanchor">[640]</a> +Montfaucon<a name="FNanchor_641" id="FNanchor_641"></a><a href="#Footnote_641" class="fnanchor">[641]</a> +mentions it +as a point without doubt. Of the latter writers the decisive +Winckelmann<a name="FNanchor_642" id="FNanchor_642"></a><a href="#Footnote_642" class="fnanchor">[642]</a> +proclaims it as having been found at the +church of Saint Theodore, where, or near where, was the +temple of Romulus, and consequently makes it the wolf of +Dionysius. His authority is Lucius Faunus, who, however, +only says that it <i>was placed</i>, not <i>found</i>, +at the Ficus Ruminalis, +by the Comitium, by which he does not seem to allude +to the church of Saint Theodore. Rycquius was the first to +make the mistake, and Winckelmann followed Rycquius.</p> + +<p>Flaminius Vacca tells quite a different story, and says he +had heard the wolf with the twins was found<a name="FNanchor_643" id="FNanchor_643"></a><a href="#Footnote_643" class="fnanchor">[643]</a> +near the arch +of Septimius Severus. The commentator on Winckelmann +is of the same opinion with that learned person, and is +incensed at Nardini for not having remarked that Cicero, in +speaking of the wolf struck with lightning in the Capitol, +makes use of the past tense. But, with the Abate's leave, +Nardini does not positively assert the statue to be that +mentioned by Cicero, and if he had, the assumption would +not perhaps have been so exceedingly indiscreet. The Abate +himself is obliged to own that there are marks very like the +scathing of lightning in the hinder legs of the present wolf; +and, to get rid of this, adds, that the wolf seen by Dionysius +might have been also struck by lightning, or otherwise injured.</p> + +<p>Let us examine the subject by a reference to the words of +Cicero. The orator in two places seems to particularise the +Romulus and the Remus, especially the first, which his audience +remembered to <i>have been</i> in the Capitol, as being +struck with lightning. In his verses he records that the +twins and wolf both fell, and that the latter left behind the +marks of her feet. Cicero does not say that the wolf was +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_512" id="Page_512">[512]</a></span> +consumed: and Dion only mentions that it fell down, without +alluding, as the Abate has made him, to the force of the +blow, or the firmness with which it had been fixed. The +whole strength, therefore, of the Abate's argument hangs +upon the past tense; which, however, may be somewhat +diminished by remarking that the phrase only shows that +the statue was not then standing in its former position. +Winckelmann has observed that the present twins are +modern; and it is equally clear that there are marks of +gilding on the wolf, which might therefore be supposed to +make part of the ancient group. It is known that the sacred +images of the Capitol were not destroyed when injured by +time or accident, but were put into certain underground +depositories, called <i>favissæ</i>.<a name="FNanchor_644" id="FNanchor_644"></a><a href="#Footnote_644" class="fnanchor">[644]</a> +It may be thought possible +that the wolf had been so deposited, and had been replaced +in some conspicuous situation when the Capitol was rebuilt +by Vespasian. Rycquius, without mentioning his authority, +tells that it was transferred from the Comitium to the +Lateran, and thence brought to the Capitol. If it was found +near the arch of Severus, it may have been one of the images +which Orosius<a name="FNanchor_645" id="FNanchor_645"></a><a href="#Footnote_645" class="fnanchor">[645]</a> +says was thrown down in the Forum by +lightning when Alaric took the city. That it is of very high +antiquity the workmanship is a decisive proof; and that +circumstance induced Winckelmann to believe it the wolf of +Dionysius. The Capitoline wolf, however, may have been +of the same early date as that at the temple of Romulus. +Lactantius<a name="FNanchor_646" id="FNanchor_646"></a><a href="#Footnote_646" class="fnanchor">[646]</a> +asserts that in his time the Romans worshipped +a wolf; and it is known that the Lupercalia held out to a +very late period<a name="FNanchor_647" id="FNanchor_647"></a><a href="#Footnote_647" class="fnanchor">[647]</a> +after every other observance of the ancient +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_513" id="Page_513">[513]</a></span> +superstition had totally expired. This may account for the +preservation of the ancient image longer than the other early +symbols of Paganism.</p> + +<p>It may be permitted, however, to remark, that the wolf was +a Roman symbol, but that the worship of that symbol is an +inference drawn by the zeal of Lactantius. The early Christian +writers are not to be trusted in the charges which they +make against the Pagans. Eusebius accused the Romans +to their faces of worshipping Simon Magus, and raising a +statue to him in the island of the Tyber. The Romans had +probably never heard of such a person before, who came, +however, to play a considerable, though scandalous part in +the church history, and has left several tokens of his aërial +combat with St. Peter at Rome; notwithstanding that an +inscription found in this very island of the Tyber showed the +Simon Magus of Eusebius to be a certain indigenal god +called Semo Sangus or Fidius.<a name="FNanchor_648" id="FNanchor_648"></a><a href="#Footnote_648" class="fnanchor">[648]</a></p> + + +<p>Even when the worship of the founder of Rome had been +abandoned it was thought expedient to humour the habits of +the good matrons of the city, by sending them with their +sick infants to the church of Saint Theodore, as they had +before carried them to the temple of Romulus.<a name="FNanchor_649" id="FNanchor_649"></a><a href="#Footnote_649" class="fnanchor">[649]</a> +The practice +is continued to this day; and the site of the above +church seems to be thereby identified with that of the temple; +so that if the wolf had been really found there, as Winckelmann +says, there would be no doubt of the present statue +being that seen by Dionysius.<a name="FNanchor_650" id="FNanchor_650"></a><a href="#Footnote_650" class="fnanchor">[650]</a> +But Faunus, in saying that +it was at the Ficus Ruminalis by the Comitium, is only talking +of its ancient position as recorded by Pliny; and, even if +he had been remarking where it was found, would not have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_514" id="Page_514">[514]</a></span> +alluded to the church of Saint Theodore, but to a very +different place, near which it was then thought the Ficus +Ruminalis had been, and also the Comitium; that is, the +three columns by the church of Santa Maria Liberatrice, at +the corner of the Palatine looking on the Forum.</p> + +<p>It is, in fact, a mere conjecture where the image was +actually dug up; and perhaps, on the whole, the marks of +the gilding, and of the lightning, are a better argument in +favour of its being the Ciceronian wolf than any that can be +adduced for the contrary opinion. At any rate, it is reasonably +selected in the text of the poem as one of the most +interesting relics of the ancient city,<a name="FNanchor_651" id="FNanchor_651"></a><a href="#Footnote_651" class="fnanchor">[651]</a> +and is certainly the +figure, if not the very animal to which Virgil alludes in his +beautiful verses:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i8">"Geminos huic ubera circum<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Ludere pendentes pueros, et lambere matrem<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Impavidos; illam, tereti cervice reflexam,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Mulcere alternos, et corpora fingere linguâ."<a name="FNanchor_652" id="FNanchor_652"></a><a href="#Footnote_652" class="fnanchor">[652]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<h4><a id="en_4_26" name="en_4_26"></a>26.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i13">For the Roman's mind<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was modelled in a less terrestrial mould.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_XC">Stanza xc.</a> lines 3 and 4.</p> + +<p>It is possible to be a very great man and to be still very +inferior to Julius Cæsar, the most complete character, so +Lord Bacon thought, of all antiquity. Nature seems incapable +of such extraordinary combinations as composed +his versatile capacity, which was the wonder even of the +Romans themselves. The first general—the only triumphant +politician—inferior to none in eloquence—comparable to any +in the attainments of wisdom, in an age made up of the +greatest commanders, statesmen, orators, and philosophers +that ever appeared in the world—an author who composed +a perfect specimen of military annals in his travelling carriage—at +one time in a controversy with Cato, at another +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_515" id="Page_515">[515]</a></span> +writing a treatise on punning, and collecting a set of good +sayings—fighting and making love at the same moment, and +willing to abandon both his empire and his mistress for a +sight of the Fountains of the Nile. Such did Julius Cæsar +appear to his contemporaries, and to those of the subsequent +ages who were the most inclined to deplore and execrate +his fatal genius.</p> + +<p>But we must not be so much dazzled with his surpassing +glory, or with his magnanimous, his amiable qualities, as to +forget the decision of his impartial countrymen:—</p> + +<p class="center" style="font-size:90%">HE WAS JUSTLY SLAIN.<a name="FNanchor_653" id="FNanchor_653"></a><a href="#Footnote_653" class="fnanchor">[653]</a></p> + + +<h4><a id="en_4_27" name="en_4_27"></a>27.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Egeria! sweet creation of some heart<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which found no mortal resting-place so fair<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As thine ideal breast.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_CXV">Stanza cxv.</a> lines 1, 2, and 3.</p> + +<p>The respectable authority of Flaminius Vacca would +incline us to believe in the claims of the Egerian grotto.<a name="FNanchor_654" id="FNanchor_654"></a><a href="#Footnote_654" class="fnanchor">[654]</a> +He assures us that he saw an inscription in the pavement, +stating that the fountain was that of Egeria, dedicated to the +nymphs. The inscription is not there at this day, but Montfaucon +quotes two lines<a name="FNanchor_655" id="FNanchor_655"></a><a href="#Footnote_655" class="fnanchor">[655]</a> +of Ovid [<i>Fast.</i>, iii. 275, 276] from a +stone in the Villa Giustiniani, which he seems to think had +been brought from the same grotto.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_516" id="Page_516">[516]</a></span></p> + +<p>This grotto and valley were formerly frequented in summer, +and particularly the first Sunday in May, by the modern +Romans, who attached a salubrious quality to the fountain +which trickles from an orifice at the bottom of the vault, and, +overflowing the little pools, creeps down the matted grass +into the brook below. The brook is the Ovidian Almo, +whose name and qualities are lost in the modern Aquataccio. +The valley itself is called Valle di Caffarelli, from the dukes +of that name who made over their fountain to the Pallavicini, +with sixty <i>rubbia</i> of adjoining land.</p> + +<p>There can be little doubt that this long dell is the Egerian +valley of Juvenal, and the pausing place of Umbritius, notwithstanding +the generality of his commentators have supposed +the descent of the satirist and his friend to have been +into the Arician grove, where the nymph met Hippolitus, +and where she was more peculiarly worshipped.</p> + +<p>The step from the Porta Capena to the Alban hill, fifteen +miles distant, would be too considerable, unless we were to +believe in the wild conjecture of Vossius, who makes that +gate travel from its present station, where he pretends it was +during the reign of the Kings, as far as the Arician grove, +and then makes it recede to its old site with the shrinking +city.<a name="FNanchor_656" id="FNanchor_656"></a><a href="#Footnote_656" class="fnanchor">[656]</a> +The tufo, or pumice, which the poet prefers to marble, +is the substance composing the bank in which the grotto is sunk.</p> + +<p>The modern topographers<a name="FNanchor_657" id="FNanchor_657"></a><a href="#Footnote_657" class="fnanchor">[657]</a> +find in the grotto the statue of +the nymph, and nine niches for the Muses; and a late +traveller<a name="FNanchor_658" id="FNanchor_658"></a><a href="#Footnote_658" class="fnanchor">[658]</a> +has discovered that the cave is restored to that +simplicity which the poet regretted had been exchanged for +injudicious ornament. But the headless statue is palpably +rather a male than a nymph, and has none of the attributes +ascribed to it at present visible. The nine Muses could +hardly have stood in six niches; and Juvenal certainly does +not allude to any individual cave.<a name="FNanchor_659" id="FNanchor_659"></a><a href="#Footnote_659" class="fnanchor">[659]</a> +Nothing can be collected +from the satirist but that somewhere near the Porta Capena +was a spot in which it was supposed Numa held nightly consultations +with his nymph, and where there was a grove and +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_517" id="Page_517">[517]</a></span> +a sacred fountain, and fanes once consecrated to the Muses; +and that from this spot there was a descent into the valley +of Egeria, where were several artificial caves. It is clear +that the statues of the Muses made no part of the decoration +which the satirist thought misplaced in these caves; for he +expressly assigns other fanes (<i>delubra</i>) to these divinities +above the valley, and moreover tells us that they had been +ejected to make room for the Jews. In fact, the little temple +now called that of Bacchus, was formerly thought to belong +to the Muses, and Nardini<a name="FNanchor_660" id="FNanchor_660"></a><a href="#Footnote_660" class="fnanchor">[660]</a> +places them in a poplar grove, +which was in his time above the valley.</p> + +<p>It is probable from the inscription and position, that the +cave now shown may be one of the "artificial caverns," of +which, indeed, there is another a little way higher up the +valley, under a tuft of alder bushes; but a <i>single</i> grotto of +Egeria is a mere modern invention, grafted upon the application +of the epithet Egerian to these nymphea in general, and +which might send us to look for the haunts of Numa upon +the banks of the Thames.</p> + +<p>Our English Juvenal was not seduced into mistranslation +by his acquaintance with Pope: he carefully preserves the +correct plural—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Thence slowly winding down the vale we view<br /></span> +<span class="i1">The Egerian <i>grots</i>: oh, how unlike the true!"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The valley abounds with springs,<a name="FNanchor_661" id="FNanchor_661"></a><a href="#Footnote_661" class="fnanchor">[661]</a> +and over these springs, +which the Muses might haunt from their neighbouring +groves, Egeria presided: hence she was said to supply them +with water; and she was the nymph of the grottos through +which the fountains were taught to flow.</p> + +<p>The whole of the monuments in the vicinity of the Egerian +valley have received names at will, which have been changed +at will. Venuti<a name="FNanchor_662" id="FNanchor_662"></a><a href="#Footnote_662" class="fnanchor">[662]</a> +owns he can see no traces of the temples +of Jove, Saturn, Juno, Venus, and Diana, which Nardini +found, or hoped to find. The mutatorium of Caracalla's +circus, the temple of Honour and Virtue, the temple of +Bacchus, and, above all, the temple of the god Rediculus, +are the antiquaries' despair.</p> + +<p>The circus of Caracalla depends on a medal of that +emperor cited by Fulvius Ursinus, of which the reverse +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_518" id="Page_518">[518]</a></span> +shows a circus, supposed, however, by some to represent the +Circus Maximus. It gives a very good idea of that place of +exercise. The soil has been but little raised, if we may +judge from the small cellular structure at the end of the +Spina, which was probably the chapel of the god Consus. +This cell is half beneath the soil, as it must have been in the +circus itself; for Dionysius<a name="FNanchor_663" id="FNanchor_663"></a><a href="#Footnote_663" class="fnanchor">[663]</a> +could not be persuaded to +believe that this divinity was the Roman Neptune, because +his altar was underground.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_28" name="en_4_28"></a>28.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i30">Great Nemesis!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Here, where the ancient paid thee homage long.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_CXXXII">Stanza cxxxii.</a> lines 2 and 3.</p> + +<p>We read in Suetonius, that Augustus, from a warning +received in a dream,<a name="FNanchor_664" id="FNanchor_664"></a><a href="#Footnote_664" class="fnanchor">[664]</a> +counterfeited, once a year, the beggar, +sitting before the gate of his palace with his hand hollowed +and stretched out for charity. A statue formerly in the +villa Borghese, and which should be now at Paris, represents +the Emperor in that posture of supplication. The object of +that self-degradation was the appeasement of Nemesis, the +perpetual attendant on good fortune, of whose power the +Roman conquerors were also reminded by certain symbols +attached to their cars of triumph. The symbols were the +whip and the <i>crotalo</i>, which were discovered in the Nemesis +of the Vatican. The attitude of beggary made the above +statue pass for that of Belisarius: and until the criticism of +Winckelmann<a name="FNanchor_665" id="FNanchor_665"></a><a href="#Footnote_665" class="fnanchor">[665]</a> +had rectified the mistake, one fiction was called +in to support another. It was the same fear of the sudden +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_519" id="Page_519">[519]</a></span> +termination of prosperity, that made Amasis king of Egypt +warn his friend Polycrates of Samos, that the gods loved +those whose lives were chequered with good and evil fortunes. +Nemesis was supposed to lie in wait particularly for +the prudent; that is, for those whose caution rendered them +accessible only to mere accidents; and her first altar was +raised on the banks of the Phrygian Æsepus by Adrastus, +probably the prince of that name who killed the son of +Croesus by mistake. Hence the goddess was called Adrastea.<a name="FNanchor_666" id="FNanchor_666"></a><a href="#Footnote_666" class="fnanchor">[666]</a></p> + + +<p>The Roman Nemesis was <i>sacred</i> and <i>august</i>: there was a +temple to her in the Palatine under the name of Rhamnusia;<a name="FNanchor_667" id="FNanchor_667"></a><a href="#Footnote_667" class="fnanchor">[667]</a> +so great, indeed, was the propensity of the ancients +to trust to the revolution of events, and to believe in the +divinity of Fortune, that in the same Palatine there was a +temple to the Fortune of the day.<a name="FNanchor_668" id="FNanchor_668"></a><a href="#Footnote_668" class="fnanchor">[668]</a> +This is the last superstition +which retains its hold over the human heart; and, +from concentrating in one object the credulity so natural to +man, has always appeared strongest in those unembarrassed +by other articles of belief. The antiquaries have supposed +this goddess to be synonymous with Fortune and with Fate;<a name="FNanchor_669" id="FNanchor_669"></a><a href="#Footnote_669" class="fnanchor">[669]</a> +but it was in her vindictive quality that she was worshipped +under the name of Nemesis.</p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_520" id="Page_520">[520]</a></span></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_29" name="en_4_29"></a>29.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i20">He, their sire,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Butchered to make a Roman holiday.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_CXLI">Stanza cxli.</a> lines 6 and 7.</p> + +<p>Gladiators were of two kinds, compelled and voluntary; +and were supplied from several conditions;—from slaves +sold for that purpose; from culprits; from barbarian captives +either taken in war, and, after being led in triumph, set +apart for the games, or those seized and condemned as +rebels; also from free citizens, some fighting for hire +(<i>auctorati</i>), others from a depraved ambition; at last even +knights and senators were exhibited,—a disgrace of which +the first tyrant was naturally the first inventor.<a name="FNanchor_670" id="FNanchor_670"></a><a href="#Footnote_670" class="fnanchor">[670]</a> +In the end, +dwarfs, and even women, fought; an enormity prohibited by +Severus. Of these the most to be pitied undoubtedly were +the barbarian captives; and, to this species a Christian +writer<a name="FNanchor_671" id="FNanchor_671"></a><a href="#Footnote_671" class="fnanchor">[671]</a> +justly applies the epithet "innocent," to distinguish +them from the professional gladiators. Aurelian and Claudius +supplied great numbers of these unfortunate victims; +the one after his triumph, and the other on the pretext of a +rebellion.<a name="FNanchor_672" id="FNanchor_672"></a><a href="#Footnote_672" class="fnanchor">[672]</a> +No war, says Lipsius,<a name="FNanchor_673" id="FNanchor_673"></a><a href="#Footnote_673" class="fnanchor">[673]</a> +was ever so destructive +to the human race as these sports. In spite of the laws of +Constantine and Constans, gladiatorial shows survived the +old established religion more than seventy years; but they +owed their final extinction to the courage of a Christian. In +the year 404, on the kalends of January, they were exhibiting +the shows in the Flavian amphitheatre before the usual +immense concourse of people. Almachius, or Telemachus, +an Eastern monk, who had travelled to Rome intent on his +holy purpose, rushed into the midst of the arena, and endeavoured +to separate the combatants. The Prætor Alypius, +a person incredibly attached to these games,<a name="FNanchor_674" id="FNanchor_674"></a><a href="#Footnote_674" class="fnanchor">[674]</a> +gave instant +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_521" id="Page_521">[521]</a></span> +orders to the gladiators to slay him; and Telemachus gained +the crown of martyrdom, and the title of saint, which surely +has never either before or since been awarded for a more +noble exploit. Honorius immediately abolished the shows, +which were never afterwards revived. The story is told by +Theodoret<a name="FNanchor_675" id="FNanchor_675"></a><a href="#Footnote_675" class="fnanchor">[675]</a> +and Cassiodorus,<a name="FNanchor_676" id="FNanchor_676"></a><a href="#Footnote_676" class="fnanchor">[676]</a> +and seems worthy of credit +notwithstanding its place in the Roman martyrology.<a name="FNanchor_677" id="FNanchor_677"></a><a href="#Footnote_677" class="fnanchor">[677]</a> +Besides +the torrents of blood which flowed at the funerals, in +the amphitheatres, the circus, the forums, and other public +places, gladiators were introduced at feasts, and tore each +other to pieces amidst the supper tables, to the great delight +and applause of the guests. Yet Lipsius permits himself to +suppose the loss of courage, and the evident degeneracy of +mankind, to be nearly connected with the abolition of these +bloody spectacles.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_30" name="en_4_30"></a>30.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here, where the Roman million's blame or praise<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was Death or Life—the playthings of a crowd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_CXLII">Stanza cxlii.</a> lines 5 and 6.</p> + +<p>When one gladiator wounded another, he shouted, "He +has it," "Hoc habet," or "Habet." The wounded combatant +dropped his weapon, and advancing to the edge of the arena, +supplicated the spectators. If he had fought well, the +people saved him; if otherwise, or as they happened to be +inclined, they turned down their thumbs, and he was slain. +They were occasionally so savage that they were impatient +if a combat lasted longer than ordinary without wounds or +death. The emperor's presence generally saved the vanquished; +and it is recorded, as an instance of Caracalla's +ferocity, that he sent those who supplicated him for life, in +a spectacle, at Nicomedia, to ask the people; in other +words, handed them over to be slain. A similar ceremony +is observed at the Spanish bull-fights. The magistrate +presides; and after the horseman and piccadores have +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_522" id="Page_522">[522]</a></span> +fought the bull, the matadore steps forward and bows to +him for permission to kill the animal. If the bull has done +his duty by killing two or three horses, or a man, which last +is rare, the people interfere with shouts, the ladies wave +their handkerchiefs, and the animal is saved. The wounds +and death of the horses are accompanied with the loudest +acclamations, and many gestures of delight, especially from +the female portion of the audience, including those of the +gentlest blood. Every thing depends on habit. The author +of <i>Childe Harold</i>, the writer of this note, and one or two +other Englishmen, who have certainly in other days borne +the sight of a pitched battle, were, during the summer of +1809, in the governor's box at the great amphitheatre of +Santa Maria, opposite to Cadiz. The death of one or two +horses completely satisfied their curiosity. A gentleman +present, observing them shudder and look pale, noticed that +unusual reception of so delightful a sport to some young +ladies, who stared and smiled, and continued their applause +as another horse fell bleeding to the ground. One bull killed +three horses, <i>off his own horns</i>. He was saved by acclamations, +which were redoubled when it was known he belonged to a priest.</p> + +<p>An Englishman who can be much pleased with seeing two +men beat themselves to pieces, cannot bear to look at a +horse galloping round an arena with his bowels trailing on +the ground, and turns from the spectacle and the spectators +with horror and disgust.</p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_31" name="en_4_31"></a>31.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i25">And afar<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Tiber winds, and the broad Ocean laves<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Latian coast, etc., etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_CLXXIV">Stanza clxxiv.</a> lines 3 and 4.</p> + +<p>The whole declivity of the Alban hill is of unrivalled +beauty, and from the convent on the highest point, which +has succeeded to the temple of the Latian Jupiter, the prospect +embraces all the objects alluded to in the cited stanza; +the Mediterranean; the whole scene of the latter half of the +<i>Æneid</i>, and the coast from beyond the mouth of the Tiber +to the headland of Circæum and the Cape of Terracina.</p> + +<p>The site of Cicero's villa may be supposed either at the +Grotta Ferrata, or at the Tusculum of Prince Lucien +Buonaparte.</p> + +<p>The former was thought some years ago the actual site, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_523" id="Page_523">[523]</a></span> +as may be seen from Myddleton's <i>Life of Cicero</i>. At present +it has lost something of its credit, except for the Domenichinos. +Nine monks of the Greek order live there, and the +adjoining villa is a cardinal's summer-house. The other +villa, called Rufinella, is on the summit of the hill above +Frascati, and many rich remains of Tusculum have been +found there, besides seventy-two statues of different merit +and preservation, and seven busts.</p> + +<p>From the same eminence are seen the Sabine hills, embosomed +in which lies the long valley of Rustica. There +are several circumstances which tend to establish the identity +of this valley with the "<i>Ustica</i>" of Horace; and it seems +possible that the mosaic pavement which the peasants +uncover by throwing up the earth of a vineyard may belong +to his villa. Rustica is pronounced short, not according to +our stress upon—"<i>Usticæ cubantis</i>." It is more rational to +think that we are wrong, than that the inhabitants of this +secluded valley have changed their tone in this word. The +addition of the consonant prefixed is nothing; yet it is +necessary to be aware that Rustica may be a modern name +which the peasants may have caught from the antiquaries.</p> + +<p>The villa, or the mosaic, is in a vineyard on a knoll covered +with chestnut trees. A stream runs down the valley; and +although it is not true, as said in the guide books, that this +stream is called Licenza, yet there is a village on a rock at +the head of the valley, which is so denominated, and which +may have taken its name from the Digentia. Licenza contains +seven hundred inhabitants. On a peak a little way +beyond is Civitella, containing three hundred. On the +banks of the Anio, a little before you turn up into Valle +Rustica, to the left, about an hour from the <i>villa</i>, is a town +called Vicovaro, another favourable coincidence with the +<i>Varia</i> of the poet. At the end of the valley, towards the +Anio, there is a bare hill, crowned with a little town called +Bardela. At the foot of this hill the rivulet of Licenza flows, +and is almost absorbed in a wide sandy bed before it reaches +the Anio. Nothing can be more fortunate for the lines of +the poet, whether in a metaphorical or direct sense:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Me quotiens reficit gelidus Digentia rivus,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quem Mandela bibit rugosus frigore pagus."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-indent:0;">The stream is clear high up the valley, but before it reaches +the hill of Bardela looks green and yellow like a sulphur rivulet.</p> + +<p>Rocca Giovane, a ruined village in the hills, half an hour's +walk from the vineyard where the pavement is shown, does +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_524" id="Page_524">[524]</a></span> +seem to be the site of the fane of Vacuna, and an inscription +found there tells that this temple of the Sabine Victory was +repaired by Vespasian. With these helps, and a position +corresponding exactly to every thing which the poet has +told us of his retreat, we may feel tolerably secure of our site.</p> + +<p>The hill which should be Lucretilis is called Campanile, +and by following up the rivulet to the pretended Bandusia, +you come to the roots of the higher mountain Gennaro. +Singularly enough, the only spot of ploughed land in the +whole valley is on the knoll where this Bandusia rises.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">" ... tu frigus amabile<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fessis vomere tauris<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Præbes, et pecori vago."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-indent:0;">The peasants show another spring near the mosaic pavement, +which they call "Oradina," and which flows down the +hills into a tank, or mill-dam, and thence trickles over into +the Digentia.</p> + +<p>But we must not hope</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"To trace the Muses upwards to their spring,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-indent:0;">by exploring the windings of the romantic valley in search +of the Bandusian fountain. It seems strange that any one +should have thought Bandusia a fountain of the Digentia—Horace +has not let drop a word of it; and this immortal +spring has in fact been discovered in possession of the +holders of many good things in Italy, the monks. It was +attached to the church of St. Gervais and Protais near +Venusia, where it was most likely to be found.<a name="FNanchor_678" id="FNanchor_678"></a><a href="#Footnote_678" class="fnanchor">[678]</a> +We shall +not be so lucky as a late traveller in finding the "occasional +pine" still pendent on the poetic villa. There is not a pine in +the whole valley, but there are two cypresses, which he evidently +took, or mistook, for the tree in the ode.<a name="FNanchor_679" id="FNanchor_679"></a><a href="#Footnote_679" class="fnanchor">[679]</a> +The truth +is, that the pine is now, as it was in the days of Virgil, a +garden tree, and it was not at all likely to be found in the +craggy acclivities of the valley of Rustica. Horace probably +had one of them in the orchard close above his farm, immediately +overshadowing his villa, not on the rocky heights at +some distance from his abode. The tourist may have easily +supposed himself to have seen this pine figured in the above +cypresses; for the orange and lemon trees which throw such +a bloom over his description of the royal gardens at Naples, +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_525" id="Page_525">[525]</a></span> +unless they have been since displaced, were assuredly only +acacias and other common garden shrubs.<a name="FNanchor_680" id="FNanchor_680"></a><a href="#Footnote_680" class="fnanchor">[680]</a></p> + +<h4><a id="en_4_32" name="en_4_32"></a>32.</h4> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">Upon the blue Symplegades.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="attrib"><a href="#C4_CLXXVI">Stanza clxxvi.</a> line 1.</p> + +<p>[Lord Byron embarked from "Calpe's rock" (Gibraltar) +August 19, 1809, and after travelling through Greece, he +reached Constantinople in the <i>Salsette</i> frigate May 14, 1810. +The two island rocks—the Cyanean Symplegades—stand +one on the European, the other on the Asiatic side of the +Strait, where the Bosphorus joins the Euxine or Black Sea. +Both these rocks were visited by Lord Byron in +June, 1810.—Note, Ed. 1879.]</p> + +<hr class="major" /> + +<div class="titlepage"> + + <h4>END OF VOL. II.</h4> +<hr /> + <h4>LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,<br /> + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.</h4> +</div> + + + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_555" id="Footnote_555"></a><a href="#FNanchor_555"><span class="label">[555]</span></a> <a id="Note_470" name="Note_470">{470}</a> The writer meant <i>Lido</i>, which is not a long row of +islands, but a long island: <i>littus</i>, the shore.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_556" id="Footnote_556"></a><a href="#FNanchor_556"><span class="label">[556]</span></a> <i>Curiosities of Literature</i>, ii. 156, edit. 1807, edit. +1881, i. 390; and Appendix xxix. to Black's <i>Life of Tasso</i>, 1810, ii. +455.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_557" id="Footnote_557"></a><a href="#FNanchor_557"><span class="label">[557]</span></a> <a id="Note_472" name="Note_472">{472}</a> <i>Su i Quattro Cavalli della Basilica di S. Marco in +Venezia</i>. Lettera di Andrea Mustoxidi Corcirese. Padova, 1816.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_558" id="Footnote_558"></a><a href="#FNanchor_558"><span class="label">[558]</span></a> <a id="Note_473" name="Note_473">{473}</a> "Quibus auditis, imperator, operante eo, qui corda +Principum sicut vult, & quando vult, humiliter inclinat, leonina +feritate deposita, ovinam mansuetudinem induit."—<i>Romualdi Salernitani +Chronican, apud Script. Rer. Ital.</i>, 1725, vii. 230.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_559" id="Footnote_559"></a><a href="#FNanchor_559"><span class="label">[559]</span></a> <a id="Note_474" name="Note_474">{474}</a> <i>Rer. Ital.</i>, vii. 231.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_560" id="Footnote_560"></a><a href="#FNanchor_560"><span class="label">[560]</span></a> <a id="Note_475" name="Note_475">{475}</a> See the above-cited Romuald of Salerno. In a second +sermon which Alexander preached, on the first day of August, before the +Emperor, he compared Frederic to the prodigal son, and himself to the +forgiving father.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_561" id="Footnote_561"></a><a href="#FNanchor_561"><span class="label">[561]</span></a> Mr. Gibbon has omitted the important <i>æ</i>, and has written +Romani instead of Romaniæ.—<i>Decline and Fall</i>, chap. lxi. note 9 (1882, +ii. 777, note i). But the title acquired by Dandolo runs thus in the +chronicle of his namesake, the Doge Andrew Dandolo: "Ducali titulo +addidit, 'Quartæ partis, & dimidiæ totius Imperii Romaniæ; Dominator.'" +And. Dand. <i>Chronicon</i>, cap. iii. pars xxxvii. ap. <i>Script. Rer. Ital.</i>, +1728, xii. 331. And the Romaniæ is observed in the subsequent acts of +the Doges. Indeed, the continental possessions of the Greek Empire in +Europe were then generally known by the name of Romania, and that +appellation is still seen in the maps of Turkey as applied to Thrace.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_562" id="Footnote_562"></a><a href="#FNanchor_562"><span class="label">[562]</span></a> See the continuation of Dandolo's <i>Chronicle</i>, ibid., p. +498. Mr. Gibbon appears not to include Dolfino, following Sanudo, who +says, "Il qual titolo si uso fin al Doge Giovanni Dolfino." See <i>Vite +de' Duchi di Venezia</i> [<i>Vitæ Ducum Venetorum Italiæ scriptæ</i>, Auctore +Martino Sanuto], ap. <i>Script. Rer. Ital.</i>, xxii. 530, 641.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_563" id="Footnote_563"></a><a href="#FNanchor_563"><span class="label">[563]</span></a> <a id="Note_476" name="Note_476">{476}</a> "Fiet potentium in aquis Adriaticis congregatio, +cæco præduce, Hircum ambigent, Byzantium prophanabunt, ædificia +denigrabunt, spolia dispergentur; Hircus novus balabit, usque dum liv. +pedes, & ix. pollices, & semis, præmensurati discurrant."—<i>Chronicon, +ibid</i>., xii. 329.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_564" id="Footnote_564"></a><a href="#FNanchor_564"><span class="label">[564]</span></a> <a id="Note_477" name="Note_477">{477}</a> <i>Cronaca della Guerra di Chioza, etc.</i>, scritta da +Daniello Chinazzo. <i>Script. Rer. Ital.</i>, xv. 699-804.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_565" id="Footnote_565"></a><a href="#FNanchor_565"><span class="label">[565]</span></a> <a id="Note_478" name="Note_478">{478}</a> "Nonnullorum e nobilitate immensæ sunt opes, adeo +ut vix æstimari possint; id quod tribus e rebus oritur, parsimonia, +commercio, atque iis emolumentis, quæ e Repub. percipiunt, quæ hanc ob +caussam diuturna fore creditur."—See <i>De Principatibus Italia Tractatus +Varii</i>, 1628, pp. 18, 19.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_566" id="Footnote_566"></a><a href="#FNanchor_566"><span class="label">[566]</span></a> <a id="Note_479" name="Note_479">{479}</a> See <i>An Historical and Critical Essay on the Life +and Character of Petrarch</i>; and <i>A Dissertation on an Historical +Hypothesis of the Abbé de Sade</i>. 1810. [An Italian version, entitled +<i>Riflessioni intorno a Madonna Laura</i>, was published in 1811.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_567" id="Footnote_567"></a><a href="#FNanchor_567"><span class="label">[567]</span></a> <i>Mémoires pour la Vie de François Pétrarque</i>, Amsterdam, +1764, 3 vols. 4to.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_568" id="Footnote_568"></a><a href="#FNanchor_568"><span class="label">[568]</span></a> Letter to the Duchess of Gordon, August 17, 1782. <i>Life +of Beattie</i>, by Sir W. Forbes, ii. 102-106.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_569" id="Footnote_569"></a><a href="#FNanchor_569"><span class="label">[569]</span></a> Mr. Gibbon called his <i>Memoirs</i> "a labour of love" (see +<i>Decline and Fall</i>, chap. lxx. note 2), and followed him with confidence +and delight. The compiler of a very voluminous work must take much +criticism upon trust; Mr. Gibbon has done so, though not as readily as +some other authors.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_570" id="Footnote_570"></a><a href="#FNanchor_570"><span class="label">[570]</span></a> <a id="Note_480" name="Note_480">{480}</a> The sonnet had before awakened the suspicions of +Mr. Horace Walpole. See his letter to Dr. Joseph Warton, March 16, +1765.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_571" id="Footnote_571"></a><a href="#FNanchor_571"><span class="label">[571]</span></a> "Par ce petit manège, cette alternative de faveurs et de +rigueurs bien ménagée, une femme tendre & sage amuse pendant vingt et un +ans le plus grand Poète de son siècle, sans faire la moindre brêche à +son honneur." <i>Mémoires pour la Vie de Pétrarque</i>, Préface aux Français, +i. p. cxiii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_572" id="Footnote_572"></a><a href="#FNanchor_572"><span class="label">[572]</span></a> In a dialogue with St. Augustin, Petrarch has described +Laura as having a body exhausted with repeated <i>ptubs</i>. The old editors +read and printed <i>perturbationibus</i>; but M. Capperonier, librarian to +the French king in 1762, who saw the MS. in the Paris library, made an +attestation that "on lit et qu'on doit lire, partubus exhaustum." De +Sade joined the names of Messrs. Boudot and Béjot with M. Capperonier, +and, in the whole discussion on this <i>ptubs</i>, showed himself a downright +literary rogue. (See <i>Riflessioni</i>, p. lxxiv. <i>sq.</i>; <i>Le Rime del +Petrarca</i>, Firenze, 1832, ii. <i>s.f.</i>) Thomas Aquinas is called in to +settle whether Petrarch's mistress was a <i>chaste</i> maid or a <i>continent</i> +wife.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_573" id="Footnote_573"></a><a href="#FNanchor_573"><span class="label">[573]</span></a> <a id="Note_481" name="Note_481">{481}</a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Pigmalion, quanto lodar ti dei<br /></span> +<span class="i3">Dell' immagine tua, se mille volte<br /></span> +<span class="i0">N' avesti quel, ch' i' sol una vorrei!"<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib">Sonetto 50, <i>Quando giunse a Simon l'alto concetto</i>.<br /> +<i>Le Rime</i>, etc., i. 118, edit. Florence, 1832. +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_574" id="Footnote_574"></a><a href="#FNanchor_574"><span class="label">[574]</span></a> "A questa confessione così sincera diede forse occasione +una nuova caduta, ch' ei fece."—Tiraboschi, <i>Storia</i>, lib. iii., <i>della +Letteratura Italiana</i>, Rome, 1783, v. 460.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_575" id="Footnote_575"></a><a href="#FNanchor_575"><span class="label">[575]</span></a> <a id="Note_482" name="Note_482">{482}</a> "Il n'y a que la vertu seule qui soit capable de +faire des impressions que la mort n'efface pas."—M. de Bimard, Baron de +la Bastie, in the <i>Mémoires de l'Académie des Inscriptions de Belles +Lettres</i> for 1740 (<i>Mémoires de Littérature</i> [1738-1740], 1751, xvii. +424). (See also <i>Riflessioni, etc.</i>, p. xcvi.; <i>Le Rime</i>, etc., 1832, +ii. <i>s.f.</i>)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_576" id="Footnote_576"></a><a href="#FNanchor_576"><span class="label">[576]</span></a> "And if the virtue or prudence of Laura was inexorable, +he enjoyed, and might boast of enjoying, the nymph of poetry."—<i>Decline +and Fall</i>, 1818, chap. lxx. p. 321, vol. xii. 8vo. Perhaps the <i>if</i> is +here meant for <i>although</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_577" id="Footnote_577"></a><a href="#FNanchor_577"><span class="label">[577]</span></a> <a id="Note_484" name="Note_484">{484}</a> <i>Remarks on Antiquities, etc., in Italy</i>, by Joseph +Forsyth, p. 107, note.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_578" id="Footnote_578"></a><a href="#FNanchor_578"><span class="label">[578]</span></a> <a id="Note_485" name="Note_485">{485}</a> <i>La Vita di Tasso</i>, lib. iii. p. 284 (tom. ii. +edit. Bergamo, 1790).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_579" id="Footnote_579"></a><a href="#FNanchor_579"><span class="label">[579]</span></a> <i>Histoire de l'Académie Française depuis</i> 1652 <i>jusqu'a</i> +1700, par M. l' Abbé [Thoulier] d'Olivet, Amsterdam, 1730. "Mais, +ensuite, venant à l'usage qu'il a fait de ses talens, j'aurois montré +que le bon sens n'est pas toujours ce qui domine chez lui," p. 182. +Boileau said he had not changed his opinion. "J'en ai si peu changé, +dit-il," etc., p. 181.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_580" id="Footnote_580"></a><a href="#FNanchor_580"><span class="label">[580]</span></a> <i>La Manière de bien Penser dans les Ouvrages de +l'esprit</i>, sec. Dial., p. 89, edit. 1692. Philanthes is for Tasso, and +says in the outset, "De tous les beaux esprits que l'Italie a portez, le +Tasse est peut-estre celuy qui pense le plus noblement." But Bohours +seems to speak in Eudoxus, who closes with the absurd comparison: +"Faites valoir le Tasse tant qu'il vous plaira, je m'en tiens pour moy à +Virgile," etc. (<i>ibid</i>., p. 102).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_581" id="Footnote_581"></a><a href="#FNanchor_581"><span class="label">[581]</span></a> <i>La Vita, etc</i>., lib. iii. p. 90, tom. ii. The English +reader may see an account of the opposition of the Crusca to Tasso, in +Black's <i>Life</i>, 1810, <i>etc</i>., chap. xvii. vol. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_582" id="Footnote_582"></a><a href="#FNanchor_582"><span class="label">[582]</span></a> For further, and it is hoped, decisive proof, that Tasso +was neither more nor less than a <i>prisoner of state</i>, the reader is +referred to <i>Historical Illustrations of the IVth Canto of Childe +Harold</i>, p. 5, and following.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_583" id="Footnote_583"></a><a href="#FNanchor_583"><span class="label">[583]</span></a> <a id="Note_486" name="Note_486">{486}</a> Orazioni funebri ... delle lodi di Don Luigi +Cardinal d'Este ... delle lodi di Donno Alfonso d'Este. See <i>La Vita</i>, +lib. in. p. 117.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_584" id="Footnote_584"></a><a href="#FNanchor_584"><span class="label">[584]</span></a> It was founded in 1582, and the Cruscan answer to +Pellegrino's <i>Caraffa</i>, or <i>Epica poesia</i>, was published in 1584.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_585" id="Footnote_585"></a><a href="#FNanchor_585"><span class="label">[585]</span></a> "Cotanto, potè sempre in lui il veleno della sua pessima +volontà contro alia Nazion Fiorentina." <i>La Vita</i>, lib. iii. pp. 96, 98, +tom. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_586" id="Footnote_586"></a><a href="#FNanchor_586"><span class="label">[586]</span></a> <i>La Vita di M. L. Ariosto</i>, scritta dall' Abate Girolamo +Baruffaldi Giuniore, etc. Ferrara, 1807, lib. in. p. 262. (See +<i>Historical Illustrations, etc.</i>, p. 26.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_587" id="Footnote_587"></a><a href="#FNanchor_587"><span class="label">[587]</span></a> <i>Storia della Lett.</i>, Roma, 1785, tom. vii. pt. in. p. +130.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_588" id="Footnote_588"></a><a href="#FNanchor_588"><span class="label">[588]</span></a> <a id="Note_487" name="Note_487">{487}</a> <i>Op</i>. di Bianconi, vol. iii. p. 176, ed. Milano, +1802: Lettera al Signor Guido Savini Arcifisiocritico, sull' indole di +un fulmine caduto in Dresda, Panno 1759.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_589" id="Footnote_589"></a><a href="#FNanchor_589"><span class="label">[589]</span></a> "Appassionato ammiratore ed invitto apologista dell' +<i>Omero Ferrarese</i>." The title was first given by Tasso, and is quoted to +the confusion of the <i>Tassisti</i>, lib. iii. pp. 262, 265. <i>La Vita di M. +L. Ariosto, etc</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_590" id="Footnote_590"></a><a href="#FNanchor_590"><span class="label">[590]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Parva sed apta mihi, sed nulli obnoxia, sed non<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sordida, parta meo sed tamen ære domus."<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_591" id="Footnote_591"></a><a href="#FNanchor_591"><span class="label">[591]</span></a> <a id="Note_488" name="Note_488">{488}</a> Plin., <i>Hist. Nat</i>., lib. ii. cap. 55.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_592" id="Footnote_592"></a><a href="#FNanchor_592"><span class="label">[592]</span></a> <i>Columella</i>, De Re Rustica, x. 532, lib. x.; Sueton., in +<i>Vit. August</i>., cap. xc., et in <i>Vit. Tiberii</i>, cap. lxix.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_593" id="Footnote_593"></a><a href="#FNanchor_593"><span class="label">[593]</span></a> Note 2, p. 409, edit. Lugd. Bat. 1667.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_594" id="Footnote_594"></a><a href="#FNanchor_594"><span class="label">[594]</span></a> <i>Vid</i>. J. C. Boulenger, <i>De Terræ Motu et Fulminib</i>., +lib. v. cap. xi., <i>apud</i> J. G. Græv., <i>Thes. Antiq. Rom</i>., 1696, v. +532.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_595" id="Footnote_595"></a><a href="#FNanchor_595"><span class="label">[595]</span></a> +<span title="Ou)dei\s keraunôthei\s a)/timo/s e)sti">Οὐδεὶς κεραυνωθεὶς ἄτιμός ἐστι</span>, +<span title="o(/then kai\ ô(s theo\s tima~tai">ὅθεν καὶ ὡς θεὸς τιμᾶται</span>. Artemidori <i>Oneirocritica</i>, Paris, +1603, ii. 8, p. 91.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_596" id="Footnote_596"></a><a href="#FNanchor_596"><span class="label">[596]</span></a> <a id="Note_489" name="Note_489">{489}</a> Pauli Warnefridi Diaconi <i>De Gestis Langobard</i>., +lib. iii. cap. xxxi., <i>apud</i> La Bigne, <i>Max. Bibl. Patr</i>., 1677, xiii. +177.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_597" id="Footnote_597"></a><a href="#FNanchor_597"><span class="label">[597]</span></a> I. P. Valeriani <i>De fulminum significationibus +declamatio</i>, <i>apud</i> J. G. Græv., <i>Thes. Antiq. Rom</i>., 1696, v. 604. The +declamation is addressed to Julian of Medicis.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_598" id="Footnote_598"></a><a href="#FNanchor_598"><span class="label">[598]</span></a> <a id="Note_490" name="Note_490">{490}</a> See <i>Menum. Ant. Ined</i>., 1767, ii. par. i. cap. +xvii. sect. iii p. 50; and <i>Storia delle Arti, etc</i>., lib. xi. cap. i. +tom ii. p. 314, note B.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_599" id="Footnote_599"></a><a href="#FNanchor_599"><span class="label">[599]</span></a> <i>Nomina gentesque Antiquæ Italiæ</i> (Gibbon, <i>Miscell. +Works</i>, 1814). p. 204, edit. oct.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_600" id="Footnote_600"></a><a href="#FNanchor_600"><span class="label">[600]</span></a> <a id="Note_492" name="Note_492">{492}</a> The free expression of their honest sentiments +survived their liberties. Titius, the friend of Antony, presented them +with games in the theatre of Pompey. They did not suffer the brilliancy +of the spectacle to efface from their memory that the man who furnished +them with the entertainment had murdered the son of Pompey: they drove +him from the theatre with curses. The moral sense of a populace, +spontaneously expressed, is never wrong. Even the soldiers of the +triumvirs joined in the execration of the citizens, by shouting round +the chariots of Lepidus and Plancus, who had proscribed their brothers, +<i>De Germanis, non de Gallis, duo triumphant consules</i>; a saying worth a +record, were it nothing but a good pun. [C. Vell. Paterculi, <i>Hist</i>., +lib. ii. cap. lxxix. p. 78, edit. Elzevir, 1639. <i>Ibid</i>., lib. ii. cap. +lxvii.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_601" id="Footnote_601"></a><a href="#FNanchor_601"><span class="label">[601]</span></a> <a id="Note_494" name="Note_494">{494}</a> <i>Il Principe di Niccolò Machiavelli</i>, Paris, 1825, +pp. 184, 185.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_602" id="Footnote_602"></a><a href="#FNanchor_602"><span class="label">[602]</span></a> <i>Storia della Lett. Ital.</i>, edit. Venice, 1795, tom. v. +lib. iii. par. 2, p. 448, note. Tiraboschi is incorrect; the dates of +the three decrees against Dante are A.D. 1302, 1314, and 1316.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_603" id="Footnote_603"></a><a href="#FNanchor_603"><span class="label">[603]</span></a> <a id="Note_495" name="Note_495">{495}</a> So relates Ficino, but some think his coronation +only an allegory. See <i>Storia, etc., ut sup.</i>, p. 453.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_604" id="Footnote_604"></a><a href="#FNanchor_604"><span class="label">[604]</span></a> By Varchi, in his <i>Ercolano</i>. The controversy continued +from 1570 to 1616. See <i>Storia, etc.</i>, edit. Rome, 1785, tom, vii. lib. +iii. par. iii. p. 187.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_605" id="Footnote_605"></a><a href="#FNanchor_605"><span class="label">[605]</span></a> <a id="Note_496" name="Note_496">{496}</a> Gio Jacopo Dionisi <i>Canonico di Verona</i>. Serie di +Aneddoti, n. 2. See <i>Storia, etc.</i>, edit. Venice, 1795, tom. v. lib. i. +par. i. p. 24, note.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_606" id="Footnote_606"></a><a href="#FNanchor_606"><span class="label">[606]</span></a> "Vitam Literni egit sine desiderio urbis." See T. Liv., +<i>Hist.</i>, lib. xxxviii. cap. liii. Livy reports that some said he was +buried at Liternum, others at Rome. <i>Ibid.</i>, cap. lv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_607" id="Footnote_607"></a><a href="#FNanchor_607"><span class="label">[607]</span></a> <i>Trionfo della Castità</i>, <i>Opera</i> Petrarchæ, Basil, 1554, +i. <i>s.f.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_608" id="Footnote_608"></a><a href="#FNanchor_608"><span class="label">[608]</span></a> <a id="Note_497" +name="Note_497">{497}</a> See <a href="#en_4_6">Note 6, p. 476</a>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_609" id="Footnote_609"></a><a href="#FNanchor_609"><span class="label">[609]</span></a> +The Greek boasted that he was <span title="i)so/nomos">ἰσόνομος</span>. +See the last chapter of the first book of Dionysius of Halicarnassus.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_610" id="Footnote_610"></a><a href="#FNanchor_610"><span class="label">[610]</span></a> <a id="Note_498" name="Note_498">{498}</a> "E intorno <i>alla magnifica risposta</i>," etc. +Serassi, <i>Vita del Tasso</i>, lib. iii. p. 149, tom. ii. edit. 2. Bergamo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_611" id="Footnote_611"></a><a href="#FNanchor_611"><span class="label">[611]</span></a> <a id="Note_499" name="Note_499">{499}</a> "Accingiti innoltre, se ci è lecito ancor +l'esortarti, a compire l'immortal tua Africa ... Se ti avviene +d'incontrare nel nostro stile cosa che ti dispiaccia, ciò debb' essere +un altro motive ad esaudire i desiderj della tua patria." <i>Storia della +Lett. Ital.</i>, edit. Venice, 1795, tom. v. par. i. lib. i. p. 75.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_612" id="Footnote_612"></a><a href="#FNanchor_612"><span class="label">[612]</span></a> <a id="Note_500" name="Note_500">{500}</a> <i>Classical Tour</i>, chap. ix. vol. iii. p. 355, edit. +3rd. "Of Boccaccio, the modern Petronius, we say nothing; the abuse of +genius is more odious and more contemptible than its absence, and it +imports little where the impure remains of a licentious author are +consigned to their kindred dust. For the same reason the traveller may +pass unnoticed the tomb of the malignant <i>Aretino</i>." This dubious phrase +is hardly enough to save the tourist from the suspicion of another +blunder respecting the burial-place of Aretine, whose tomb was in the +church of St. Luke at Venice, and gave rise to the famous controversy of +which some notice is taken in Bayle. Now the words of Mr. Eustace would +lead us to think the tomb was at Florence, or at least was to be +somewhere recognised. Whether the inscription so much disputed was ever +written on the tomb cannot now be decided, for all memorial of this +author has disappeared from the church of St. Luke.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_613" id="Footnote_613"></a><a href="#FNanchor_613"><span class="label">[613]</span></a> <a id="Note_501" name="Note_501">{501}</a> "Non enim ubique est, qui in excusationem meam +consurgens dicat: juvenis scripsit, & majoris coactus imperio." The +letter was addressed to Maghinard of Cavalcanti, marshal of the kingdom +of Sicily. See Tiraboschi, <i>Storia, etc.</i>, edit. Venice, 1795, tom. v. +par. ii. lib. iii. p. 525, note.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_614" id="Footnote_614"></a><a href="#FNanchor_614"><span class="label">[614]</span></a> <a id="Note_502" name="Note_502">{502}</a> <i>Dissertazioni sopra le Antichità Italiane</i>, Diss. +lviii. p. 253, tom. iii. edit. Milan, 1751.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_615" id="Footnote_615"></a><a href="#FNanchor_615"><span class="label">[615]</span></a> <i>Eclaircissement, etc., etc.</i>, p. 648, edit. Amsterdam, +1740, in the Supplement to Bayle's <i>Dictionary</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_616" id="Footnote_616"></a><a href="#FNanchor_616"><span class="label">[616]</span></a> <a id="Note_503" name="Note_503">{503}</a> <i>Opera</i>, i. 540, edit. Basil, 1581.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_617" id="Footnote_617"></a><a href="#FNanchor_617"><span class="label">[617]</span></a> Cosmus Medices, Decreto Publico, Pater Patriæ.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_618" id="Footnote_618"></a><a href="#FNanchor_618"><span class="label">[618]</span></a> Corinne, 1819, liv. xviii. chap. iii. vol. iii. p. 218.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_619" id="Footnote_619"></a><a href="#FNanchor_619"><span class="label">[619]</span></a> {504} <i>Discourses concerning Government</i>, by A. Sidney, +chap. ii. sect. xxvi. p. 208, edit. 1751. Sidney is, together with Locke +and Hoadley, one of Mr. Hume's "despicable" writers.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_620" id="Footnote_620"></a><a href="#FNanchor_620"><span class="label">[620]</span></a> <a id="Note_505" name="Note_505">{505}</a> Tit. Liv., lib. xxii. cap. v.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_621" id="Footnote_621"></a><a href="#FNanchor_621"><span class="label">[621]</span></a> <i>Ibid.</i>, cap. iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_622" id="Footnote_622"></a><a href="#FNanchor_622"><span class="label">[622]</span></a> <i>Ibid.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_623" id="Footnote_623"></a><a href="#FNanchor_623"><span class="label">[623]</span></a> <a id="Note_506" name="Note_506">{506}</a> <i>Hist.</i>, lib. iii. cap. 83. The account in Polybius +is not so easily reconcilable with present appearances as that in Livy; +he talks of hills to the right and left of the pass and valley; but when +Flaminius entered he had the lake at the right of both.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_624" id="Footnote_624"></a><a href="#FNanchor_624"><span class="label">[624]</span></a> <a id="Note_507" name="Note_507">{507}</a> About the middle of the twelfth century the coins +of Mantua bore on one side the image and figure of Virgil. <i>Zecca +d'Italia</i>, iii. pl. xvii. i. 6. <i>Voyage dans le Milanais, etc.</i>, par A. +L. Millin, ii. 294. Paris, 1817.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_625" id="Footnote_625"></a><a href="#FNanchor_625"><span class="label">[625]</span></a> <a id="Note_509" name="Note_509">{509}</a> <i>Storia delle Arti, etc.</i>, lib. xi. cap. i. pp. +321, 322, tom. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_626" id="Footnote_626"></a><a href="#FNanchor_626"><span class="label">[626]</span></a> Cicer., <i>Epist. ad Atticum</i>, xi. 6.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_627" id="Footnote_627"></a><a href="#FNanchor_627"><span class="label">[627]</span></a> Published by Causeus, in his <i>Museum Romanum</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_628" id="Footnote_628"></a><a href="#FNanchor_628"><span class="label">[628]</span></a> <i>Storia delle Arti, etc.</i>, lib. xi. cap. i.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_629" id="Footnote_629"></a><a href="#FNanchor_629"><span class="label">[629]</span></a> Sueton., in <i>Vit. August.</i>, cap. xxxi., and in <i>Vit. C. +J. Cæsar</i>, cap. lxxxviii. Appian says it was burnt down. See a note of +Pitiscus to Suetonius, p. 224.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_630" id="Footnote_630"></a><a href="#FNanchor_630"><span class="label">[630]</span></a> "Tu modo Pompeia lentus spatiare sub umbra" (Ovid, <i>Art. +Am.</i>, i. 67).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_631" id="Footnote_631"></a><a href="#FNanchor_631"><span class="label">[631]</span></a> Flavii Blondi <i>De Româ Instauratâ</i>, Venice, 1511, lib. +iii. p. 25.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_632" id="Footnote_632"></a><a href="#FNanchor_632"><span class="label">[632]</span></a> <a id="Note_510" name="Note_510">{510}</a> <i>Antiq. Rom.</i>, lib. i., +<span title="Cha/lkea poiê/mata palai~as e)rgasi/as">Χάλκεα +ποιήματα παλαῖας +ἐργασίας</span>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_633" id="Footnote_633"></a><a href="#FNanchor_633"><span class="label">[633]</span></a> Liv., <i>Hist.</i>, lib. x. cap. xxiii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_634" id="Footnote_634"></a><a href="#FNanchor_634"><span class="label">[634]</span></a> "Tum statua Nattæ, tum simulacra Deorum, Romulusque et +Remus cum altrice belua vi fulminis icti conciderunt."—Cic., <i>De +Divinat.</i>, ii. 20. "Tactus est etiam ille qui hanc urbem condidit +Romulus: quem inauratum in Capitolio parvum atque lactentem uberibus +lupinis inhiantem fuisse meministis."—<i>In Catilin.</i>, iii. 8. +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Hic silvestris erat Romani nominis altrix<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Martia, quæ parvos Mavortis semine natos<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Uberibus gravidis vitali rore rigabat:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Quæ tum cum pueris flammato fulminis ictu<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Concidit, atque avulsa pedum vestigia liquit."<br /></span> +</div></div><p class="attrib"><i>De Suo Consulatu</i>, lib. ii. lines 42-46. +</p> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_635" id="Footnote_635"></a><a href="#FNanchor_635"><span class="label">[635]</span></a> Dion., <i>Hist.</i>, lib. xxxvii. p. 37, edit. Rob. Steph., +1548.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_636" id="Footnote_636"></a><a href="#FNanchor_636"><span class="label">[636]</span></a> Luc. Fauni <i>De Antiq. Urb. Rom.</i>, lib. ii. cap. vii., +<i>ap.</i> Sallengre, 1745, i. 217,</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_637" id="Footnote_637"></a><a href="#FNanchor_637"><span class="label">[637]</span></a> Ap. Nardini <i>Roma Vetus</i>, lib. v. cap. iv., <i>ap.</i> J. G. +Græv., <i>Thes. Antiq. Rom.</i>, iv. 1146.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_638" id="Footnote_638"></a><a href="#FNanchor_638"><span class="label">[638]</span></a> Marliani <i>Urb. Rom. Topograph.</i>, Venice, 1588, p. 23.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_639" id="Footnote_639"></a><a href="#FNanchor_639"><span class="label">[639]</span></a> <a id="Note_511" name="Note_511">{511}</a> Just. Rycquii <i>De Capit. Roman. Comm.</i>, cap. xxiv. +p. 250, edit. Lugd. Bat. 1696.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_640" id="Footnote_640"></a><a href="#FNanchor_640"><span class="label">[640]</span></a> Nardini, <i>Roma Vetus</i>, lib. v. cap. iv.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_641" id="Footnote_641"></a><a href="#FNanchor_641"><span class="label">[641]</span></a> Montfaucon, <i>Diarium Italic.</i>, Paris, 1702, i. 174.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_642" id="Footnote_642"></a><a href="#FNanchor_642"><span class="label">[642]</span></a> <i>Storia delle Arti, etc.</i>, Milan, 1779, lib. iii. cap. +iii. s. ii. note * (i. 144). Winckelmann has made a strange blunder in +the note, by saying the Ciceronian wolf was <i>not</i> in the Capitol, and +that Dion was wrong in saying so.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_643" id="Footnote_643"></a><a href="#FNanchor_643"><span class="label">[643]</span></a> Flam. Vacca, <i>Memorie</i>, num. iii. <i>ap</i>. <i>Roma Antica di +Famiano</i>, Nardini, Roma, 1771, iv. <i>s.f.</i> p. iii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_644" id="Footnote_644"></a><a href="#FNanchor_644"><span class="label">[644]</span></a> <a id="Note_512" name="Note_512">{512}</a> Luc. Fauni <i>De Antiq. Urb. Rom.</i>, lib. ii. cap. +vi., <i>ap.</i> Sallengre, tom. i. p. 216.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_645" id="Footnote_645"></a><a href="#FNanchor_645"><span class="label">[645]</span></a> See note to stanza lxxx. in <i>Historical Illustrations</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_646" id="Footnote_646"></a><a href="#FNanchor_646"><span class="label">[646]</span></a> "Romuli nutrix Lupa honoribus est affecta divinis. Et +ferrem, si animal ipsum fuisset, cujus figuram gerit." Lactant., <i>De +Falsâ Religione</i>, lib. i. cap. xx., Biponti, 1786, i. 66; that is to +say, he would rather adore a wolf than a prostitute. His commentator has +observed that the opinion of Livy concerning Laurentia being figured in +this wolf was not universal. Strabo thought so. Rycquius is wrong in +saying that Lactantius mentions the wolf was in the Capitol.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_647" id="Footnote_647"></a><a href="#FNanchor_647"><span class="label">[647]</span></a> To A.D. 496. "Quis credere possit," says Baronius [<i>Ann. +Eccles.</i>, Lucæ, 1741, viii. 602, in an. 496], "viguisse adhuc Romæ ad +Gelasii tempora, quæ fuere ante exordium Urbis allata in Italiam +Lupercalia?" Gelasius wrote a letter, which occupies four folio pages, +to Andromachus the senator, and others, to show that the rites should be +given up.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_648" id="Footnote_648"></a><a href="#FNanchor_648"><span class="label">[648]</span></a> <a id="Note_513" name="Note_513">{513}</a> <i>Eccles. Hist.</i> (Lipsiæ, 1827, p. 130), lib. ii. +cap. xiii. p. 40. Justin Martyr had told the story before; but Baronius +himself was obliged to detect this fable. See Nardini, <i>Roma Vet.</i>, lib. +vii. cap. xii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_649" id="Footnote_649"></a><a href="#FNanchor_649"><span class="label">[649]</span></a> <i>Accurata e succincta Descrizione, etc., di Roma +moderna</i>, dell' Ab. Ridolfino Venuti, Rome, 1766, ii. 397.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_650" id="Footnote_650"></a><a href="#FNanchor_650"><span class="label">[650]</span></a> Nardini, lib. v. cap. 3, ap. J. G. Græv., iv. 1143, +convicts Pomponius Lætus <i>Crassi erroris</i>, in putting the Ruminal +fig-tree at the church of Saint Theodore; but, as Livy says the wolf was +at the Ficus Ruminalis, and Dionysius at the temple of Romulus, he is +obliged to own that the two were close together, as well as the Luperal +cave, shaded, as it were, by the fig-tree.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_651" id="Footnote_651"></a><a href="#FNanchor_651"><span class="label">[651]</span></a> <a id="Note_514" name="Note_514">{514}</a> Donatus, lib. xi. cap. xviii., gives a medal +representing on one side the wolf in the same position as that in the +Capitol; and on the reverse the wolf with the head not reverted. It is +of the time of Antoninus Pius.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_652" id="Footnote_652"></a><a href="#FNanchor_652"><span class="label">[652]</span></a> <i>Æn</i>., viii. 631-634. (See Dr. Middleton, in his letter +from Rome, who inclines to the Ciceronian wolf, but without examining +the subject.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_653" id="Footnote_653"></a><a href="#FNanchor_653"><span class="label">[653]</span></a> <a id="Note_515" name="Note_515">{515}</a> "Jure cæsus existimetur," says Suetonius, i. 76, +after a fair estimation of his character, and making use of a phrase +which was a formula in Livy's time. "Mælium jure cæsum pronuntiavit, +etiam si regni crimine insons fuerit:" [lib. iv. cap. xv.] and which was +continued in the legal judgments pronounced in justifiable homicides, +such as killing house-breakers.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_654" id="Footnote_654"></a><a href="#FNanchor_654"><span class="label">[654]</span></a> <i>Rom. Ant.</i>, F. Nardini, 1771, iv. <i>Memorie</i>, note 3, p. +xii. He does not give the inscription.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_655" id="Footnote_655"></a><a href="#FNanchor_655"><span class="label">[655]</span></a> "In villa Justiniana exstat ingens lapis quadras solidus, +in quo sculpta hæc duo Ovidii carmina sunt:— +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"'Ægeria est quæ præbet aquas dea grata Camoenis,<br /></span> +<span class="i4">Illa Numæ conjunx consiliumque fuit.'<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +Qui lapis videtur eodem Egeriæ fonte, aut ejus vicinia, istuc +comportatus."—<i>Diarium Italic.</i>, Paris, 1702, p. 153.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_656" id="Footnote_656"></a><a href="#FNanchor_656"><span class="label">[656]</span></a> <a id="Note_516" name="Note_516">{516}</a> <i>De Magnit. Vet. Rom</i>., ap. Græv., <i>Ant. Rom</i>., iv. +1507 [1. Vossius, <i>De Ant. Urb. Rom. Mag</i>., cap. iv.]</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_657" id="Footnote_657"></a><a href="#FNanchor_657"><span class="label">[657]</span></a> Eschinard, <i>Descrizione di Roma e dell' Agro Romano</i>, +Roma, 1750. They believe in the grotto and nymph. "Simulacro di questo +Fonte, essendovi scolpite le acque a pie di esso" (p. 297).</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_658" id="Footnote_658"></a><a href="#FNanchor_658"><span class="label">[658]</span></a> <i>Classical Tour</i>, vol. ii. chap. vi. p. 217.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_659" id="Footnote_659"></a><a href="#FNanchor_659"><span class="label">[659]</span></a> Lib. 1. <i>Sat</i>. iii. lines 11-20.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_660" id="Footnote_660"></a><a href="#FNanchor_660"><span class="label">[660]</span></a> +<a id="Note_517" name="Note_517">{517}</a> Lib. iii. cap. iii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_661" id="Footnote_661"></a><a href="#FNanchor_661"><span class="label">[661]</span></a> "Quamvis undique e solo aquæ; scaturiant." Nardini, lib. +iii. cap. iii. <i>Thes. Ant. Rom</i>., ap. J. G. Græv., 1697, iv. 978.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_662" id="Footnote_662"></a><a href="#FNanchor_662"><span class="label">[662]</span></a> Eschinard, etc. <i>Sic cit</i>., pp. 297, 298.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_663" id="Footnote_663"></a><a href="#FNanchor_663"><span class="label">[663]</span></a> +<a id="Note_518" name="Note_518">{518}</a> <i>Antiq. Rom</i>., Oxf., 1704, lib. ii. cap. xxxi. vol. +i. p. 97.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_664" id="Footnote_664"></a><a href="#FNanchor_664"><span class="label">[664]</span></a> Sueton., in <i>Vit. Augusti</i>, cap. xci. Casaubon, in the +note, refers to Plutarch's Lives of Camillus and Æmilius Paulus, and +also to his apophthegms, for the character of this deity. The hollowed +hand was reckoned the last degree of degradation; and when the dead body +of the præfect Rufinus was borne about in triumph by the people, the +indignity was increased by putting his hand in that position.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_665" id="Footnote_665"></a><a href="#FNanchor_665"><span class="label">[665]</span></a> <i>Storia delle Arti, etc</i>., Rome, 1783, lib. xii. cap. +iii. tom. ii. p. 422. Visconti calls the statue, however, a Cybele. It +is given in the <i>Museo Pio-Clement</i>., tom. i. par. xl. The Abate Fea +(<i>Spiegazione dei Rami. Storia, etc</i>., iii. 513) calls it a Crisippo.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_666" id="Footnote_666"></a><a href="#FNanchor_666"><span class="label">[666]</span></a> <a id="Note_519" name="Note_519">{519}</a> <i>Dict. de Bayle</i>, art. "Adrastea."</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_667" id="Footnote_667"></a><a href="#FNanchor_667"><span class="label">[667]</span></a> It is enumerated by the regionary Victor.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_668" id="Footnote_668"></a><a href="#FNanchor_668"><span class="label">[668]</span></a> "Fortunæ; hujusce diei." Cicero mentions her, <i>De +Legib.</i>, lib. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_669" id="Footnote_669"></a><a href="#FNanchor_669"><span class="label">[669]</span></a> +</p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">DEÆ. NEMESI<br /></span> +<span class="i1">SIVE. FORTV<br /></span> +<span class="i5">NÆ<br /></span> +<span class="i2">PISTORIVS<br /></span> +<span class="i2">RVGIANVS<br /></span> +<span class="i1">V.C. LEGAT.<br /></span> +<span class="i1">LEG. XIII. G.<br /></span> +<span class="i4">GORD.<br /></span> +</div></div><p> +(See <i>Questiones Romanæ, etc.</i>, ap. Græv., <i>Antiq. Roman.</i>, v. 942. See +also Muratori, <i>Nov. Thesaur. Inscrip. Vet.</i>, Milan, 1739, i. 88, 89, +where there are three Latin and one Greek inscription to Nemesis, and +others to Fate.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_670" id="Footnote_670"></a><a href="#FNanchor_670"><span class="label">[670]</span></a> <a id="Note_520" name="Note_520">{520}</a> Julius Cæsar, who rose by the fall of the +aristocracy, brought Furius Leptinus and A. Calenus upon the arena.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_671" id="Footnote_671"></a><a href="#FNanchor_671"><span class="label">[671]</span></a> "Ad captiuos pertinere Tertulliani querelam puto: <i>Certe +quidem & innocentes gladiatores inludum veniunt, & voluptatis publicæ +hostiæ fiant</i>." Justus, Lipsius, 1588, <i>Saturn. Sermon.</i>, lib. ii. cap. +iii. p. 84.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_672" id="Footnote_672"></a><a href="#FNanchor_672"><span class="label">[672]</span></a> Vopiscus, in <i>Vit. Aurel.</i>, and in <i>Vit. Claud.</i>, +<i>ibid.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_673" id="Footnote_673"></a><a href="#FNanchor_673"><span class="label">[673]</span></a> Just. Lips., <i>ibid.</i>, lib. i. cap. xii. p. 45.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_674" id="Footnote_674"></a><a href="#FNanchor_674"><span class="label">[674]</span></a> Augustinus (<i>Confess.</i>, lib. vi. cap. viii.): "Alypium +suum gladiatorii spectaculi inhiatu incredibiliter abreptum," scribit. +ib., lib. i. cap. xii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_675" id="Footnote_675"></a><a href="#FNanchor_675"><span class="label">[675]</span></a> <a id="Note_521" name="Note_521">{521}</a> <i>Hist. Eccles.</i>, ap. <i>Ant. Hist. Eccl.</i>, Basle, +1535, lib. v. cap. xxvi.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_676" id="Footnote_676"></a><a href="#FNanchor_676"><span class="label">[676]</span></a> Cassiod., <i>Tripartita</i>, ap. <i>Ant. Hist. Eccl.</i>, Basle, +1535, lib. x. cap. ii. p. 543.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_677" id="Footnote_677"></a><a href="#FNanchor_677"><span class="label">[677]</span></a> Baronius, <i>De Ann. et in Notis ad Martyrol. Rom. I. Jan.</i> +(See Marangoni, <i>Delle memorie sacre, e profane dell' Anfiteatro +Flavio</i>, p. 25, edit. 1746.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_678" id="Footnote_678"></a><a href="#FNanchor_678"><span class="label">[678]</span></a> <a id="Note_524" name="Note_524">{524}</a> See <i>Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto</i>, +p. 43.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_679" id="Footnote_679"></a><a href="#FNanchor_679"><span class="label">[679]</span></a> See <i>Classical Tour, etc.</i>, chap. vii. p. 250, vol. ii.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_680" id="Footnote_680"></a><a href="#FNanchor_680"><span class="label">[680]</span></a> <a id="Note_525" name="Note_525">{525}</a> "Under our windows and bordering on the beach is +the royal garden, laid out in parterres, and walks shaded by rows of +orange trees."—<i>Classical Tour, etc.</i>, chap. xi. vol. ii., 365.</p></div> + + +</div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Works of Lord Byron, Volume 2, by +George Gordon Byron + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF LORD BYRON, VOLUME 2 *** + +***** This file should be named 25340-h.htm or 25340-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/5/3/4/25340/ + +Produced by Jonathan Ingram, David Cortesi, and the Online +Distributed Proofreaders Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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