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66 There's doubtless something in domestic And flasks of Samian and of Chian wine, doings,

And sherbet cooling in the porous vase ; Which forms, in fact, true love's anti- Above them their dessert grew on its thesis ;

vine, Romances paint at full length people's The orange and pomegranate nodding o'er, wooings,

Dropp'd in their laps, searce pluck'd, their But only give a bust of marriages ;

mellow store. For no one cares for matrimonial cooings,

“ A band of children, round a snow-white There's nothing wrong in a connubial kiss :

There wreath his venerable horns with Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch's

Aowers ; wife, Ile would have written sonnets all his life? While, peaceful, as if still an unwean'd

lamb,

The patriarch of the flock all gently “ Haidée and Juan were not married, but The fault was theirs, not mine: it is not

His sober head, majestically tame, fair,

Or eats from out the palm, or playful Chaste rcader, then, in any way to put

lowers The blame on me, unless you wish they His brow, as if in act to butt, and then,

Yielding to their small hands, draws back Then if you'd have them wedded, please

again. to shut

Their classical profiles, and glittering The book which treats of this erroneous

dresses, pair,

Their large black eyes, and soft seraphic Before the consequences grow too awful;

cheeks, "Tis dangerous to read of loves unlawful.” Crimson as cleft pomegranates, their long

tresses, The piratical father of Haidée,

The gesture which enchants, the eye 6 detained

that speaks, " By winds and waves, and some import- The innocence which happy childhood ant captures,”

blesses, having remained long at sea, it was Made quite a picture of these little supposed he had perished, and she, in Greeks ; consequence, took possession of all his So that the philosophical beholder treasures, and surendered herself to Sigh'd for their sakes--that they should the full enjoyment of her lover. The e'er grow older.” old gentleman, however, returns, and The father is not at all pleased to landing on a distant part of the island, see such fatal doings in his absence. walks leisurely towards his home, while

“ Perhaps you think in stumbling on this Juan and his daughter are giving a feast, public breakfast to their friends and He flew into a passion ; and in fact, acquaintance. The description of the There was no mighty reason to be pleased ;) fete is executed with equal felicity and Perhaps you prophesy some sudden act. spirit; we think it would be difficult to inatch the life and gaiety of the pic- “ You're wrong. He was the mildestture by any thing of the kind in Eng

manner'd man lish poetry—perhaps in any other po- That ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat ; etry.

With sucn true breeding of a gentleman, “ And further on a group of Grecian girls, You never could divine his real thought. The first and tallest her white kerchief

waving, Were strung together like a row of pearls ;

" Advancing to the nearest dinner tray, Link'd hand in hand, and dancing;

each Tapping the shoulder of the nighest guest too, having

With a peculiar smile, which, by the way, Down her white neck long floating auburn Boded no good, whatever it express'd, curls

He ask'd the meaning of this holiday ; (The le ist of which would set ten poets The vinous Greek to whom he had ad

ress'd raving :) Their leader sang-and bounded to her His question, much too merry to divine

The questioner, fill'd up a glass of wine.” song, With choral step and voice, the virgin And facetiously looking over his shoulthrong.

der, said, “ And here, assembled cross-legg'd round

“ Talking's dry work, and our old mas

ter's dead.” Small social parties just begin to dine; Pilates and meats of all sorts mot the gaze, This certainly was not very pleasant

their trays,

information to the pirate, who, as well Had cost his enemies a long repentance, as other parents, would have liked to And made him a good friend, but bad achave heard his memory more solemnly quaintance. respected, but he suppressed his anger “But something of the spirit of old Greece as well as he could, and inquired the Flash'd o'er his soul a few heroic rays, name of the new master who had turn- Such as lit onward to the Golden Fleece ed Haidée into a matron. To this, how- His predecessors in the Colchian days. ever, he received but a very so-so an

"Tis true he had no ardent love for peace

Alas ! his country show'd no path to swer. ** He ask'd no further questions, and pro- Hate to the world and war with every na.

praise ; ceeded

tion On to the house.

He waged, in vengeance of her degrada

tion. “ He entered in the house no more his home,

« Still o'er his mind the influence of the A thing to human feelings the most trying, clime And harder for the heart to overcome, Shed its Ionian elegance, which show'd Perhaps, than even the mental pangs of Its power unconsciously full many a time, dying :

A taste seen in the choice of his abode, To find our hearthstone turn'd into a tomb, A love of music and of scenes sublime, And round its once warm precincts, palely A pleasure in the gentle stream that lying

flow'd The ashes of our hopes, is a deep grief, Past him in crystal, and a joy in flowers, Beyond a single gentleman's belief.

Bedew'd his spirit in his calmer hours." “ He entered in the house his home no

Lambro, for so it seems he was call

ed, passed, unseen, a private gate, more; For without hearts there is no home--and and stood within the hall where his felt

daughter and her lover were at table. The solitude of passing his own door

This affords the noble poet an opporWithout a welcome. There he long had tunity to show his knowledge of a dwelt,

Greek gentleman's house and an OttoThere his few peaceful days Time had man feast. But the merits of this still swept o'er;

life, splendid and true as they are in There his worn bosom and keen eye would delineation and colouring, are far inmelt

ferior to the description of Haidée. Over the innocence of that sweet child,

" Round her she made an atmosphere of His only shrine of feeling undefiled." The portrait of this man is one of

life, the best, if not the very best, of all

The very air seem'd lighter from her

eyes, Byron's gloomy portraits. It the Corsair grown into an elderly cha- They were so soft and beautiful, and rife

With all we can imagine of the skies, racter and a father, but it is equal to And pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife, the finest heads that ever Michael An

Too pure even for the purest human gelo, Carrivagio, painted with black and umber.

Her overpowering presence made you feel “He was a man of a strange temperament, It would not be idolatry to kneel. Of mild demeanour, though of savage mood,

“ Her eyelashes, though dark as night, Moderate in all his habits, and content

were tinged, With temperance in pleasure as in food;

(It is the country's custom,) but in vain ; Quick to perceive, and strong to bear, and For those large black eyes were so blackly

fringed, meant For something better, if not wholly And in their native beauty stood avenged:

The glossy rebels mock'd the jetty stain, good; His country's wrongs, and his despair to

Her nails were touch'd with henna; but save her,

again Had stung him from a slave to an enslaver. The power of art was turn’d to nothing, for

They could not look more rosy than before. The love of power, and rapid gain of gold,

“ The henna should be deeply dyed to The hardness by long habitude produced,

make The dangerous life in which he had grown

The skin relieved appear more fairly old, The mercy he had granted oft abused, She had no need of this, day ne'er will The sights Lie was accustom'd to behold,

break The wild seas, and wild men, with whom

On mountain tops more heavenly whis, he cruised,

than her:

may be

ties;

fair;

The eye might doubt if it were well awake, But one arise, we come, we come !"

She was so like a vision ; I might ert, 'Tis but the living who are dumb. But Shakspeare also says 'tis very silly

“ In vain—in vain : strike other chords ; • To gild refined gold, or paint the lily.""

Fill high the cup with Samian wine ! Haidée and Juan are amused, while Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, at table, by dwarfs and dancing-girls, And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! black eunuchs, and a poet, of whom í Hark! rising to the ignoble call shall

say nothing, Christopher, because How answers each bold bacchanal ! I do not think the account is very You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, good, but his song, I am persuaded, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? you will think is the very loftiest Of two such lessons, why forget bachanalian ever penned You will,

The nobler and the manlier one ? indeed, although with a grumble, Í You have the letters Cadmus gave know, allow this as if you were suffer- Think ye he meant them for a slave ? ing a jerk of your rheumatism.

“Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! • The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece,

We will not think of themes like these! Where burning Sappho loved and sung,

It made Anacreon's song divine : Where grew the arts of war and peace,

He served—but served PolycratesWhere Delos rose, and Phæbus sprung!

A tyrant; but our masters then Eternal summer gilds them yet,

Were still, at least, our countrymen. But all, except their sun, is set.

“ The tyrant of the Chersonese “ The Scian and the Teian muse,

Was freedom's best and bravest friend ; The hero's harp, the lover's lute,

That tyrant was Miltiades ! Have found the fame your shores refuse ;

Oh! that the present hour would lend Their place of birth alone is mute

Another despot of the kind !

Such chains as his were sure to bind. To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' • Islands of the Blest.' " Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! “ The mountains look on Marathon

On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore,

Exists the remnant of a line
And Marathon looks on the sea;

Such as the Doric mothers bore;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dream'd that Greece might still be free; The Heracleidan blood might own.

And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,
For, standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.

6. Trust not for freedom to the Franks

They have a king who buys and sells ; “ A king sate on the rocky brow Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis ;

In native swords, and native ranks,

The only hope of courage dwells ;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,

But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
And men in nations ;-all were his !
He counted them at break of day-

Would break your shield, however broad. And when the sun set where were they? “Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! « And where are they? and where art thou, I see their glorious black eyes shine ;

Our virgins dance beneath the shade My country? On thy voiceless shore

But gazing on each glowing maid, The heroic lay is tuneless now

My own the burning tear-drop laves, The heroic bosom beats no more!

To think such breasts must suckle slaves." And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine? “ Place me on Sunium's marbled steep

Where nothing, save the waves and I, “ ”Tis something, in the dearth of fame,

May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; Though link'd among a fetter'd race, To feel at least a patriot's shame,

There, swan-like, let me sing and die :

A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-
Even as I sing, suffuse my face ;
For what is left the poet here?

Dash down yon cup of Samian wine !" For Greeks a blush—for Greece a tear. There is a little confusion in the “Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? narrative; or perhaps it is the hurry

Must we but blush? -Our fathers bled. in which I am going over it, that makes Earth! render back from out thy breast me not able to trace it so clearly as I

A remnant of our Spartan dead ! might do, through digressions. LamOf the three hundred grant but three, bro arrived while the lovers we To make a new Thermopylæ!

dinner, and we are led to suppose « What, silent still ? and silent all ?

that he witnesses their dalliance and Ah ! no ;-the voices of the dead revelling; but it would seem that this Sound like a distant torrent's fall,

was not the case, for we find Haidée And answer, “ Let one living head, and Juan left alone after the banquet, my call,

at

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admiring the rosy twilight of the even- Grecian evening, a presentiment of soring sky.

row passes over their hearts. "Tour tale. The feast was over, the “I know not why, but in that hour to-night, slaves gone,

Even as they gazed, a sudden tremor

came, The dwarfs and dancing girls had all retired;

And swept, as 't were, across their heart's The Arab lore and poet's song were done,

delight,

Like the wind c'er a harp-string, or a. And every sound of revelry expired ;

flame, The lady and her lover, left alone, The rosy flood of twilight sky admi. When one is shook in sound, and one in red ;

sight; Ave Maria ! o'er the earth and sea,

And thus some boding flash'd through

either fraine, That heavenliest hour of Heaven is worthiest thee!

And call'd from Juan's breast a faint low

sigh, “ Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour,

While one new tear arose in Haidée's The time, the clime, the spot, where I so eye." oft

Having retired to their couch, they Have felt that moment in its fullest power are still haunted by the same unplea

Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, sant something While swung the deep bell in the distant “ Now pillow'd cheek to cheek, in loving tower,

sleep, Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, Haidée and Juan their siesta took, And not a breath crept through the rosy A gentle slumber, but it was not deep, air,

For ever and anon a something shook And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would with prayer.

creep; * Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of prayer !

And Haidee's sweet lips murmur'd like Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of love!

a brook Ave Maria ! may our spirits dare

A wordless music, and her face so fair Look up to thine, and to thy Son's above! Stirr'd with her dream as rose-leaves with Ave Maria! oh that face so fair !

the air ; Those downcast eyes beneath the Al. " Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream, mighty dove

Within the Alpine hollow, when the What though 'tis but a pictured image

wind strike

Walks over it, was she shaken by the That painting is no idol, 'tis too like.

dream, Now, Christopher, after this, take O'erpowering us to be whate'er may seem

The mystical usurper of the mind thy crutch, and, with the help of Black- Good to the soul which we no more can wood'sporter, John Lesley, crawlup the bind; new road along the Salisbury Craigs, Strange state of being ! (for 'tis still to be) on the first fine Sabbath evening, when Senseless to feel, and with seal'd eyes to all the west is still one broad glow of heavenly ruby; and the castle, in the In this state, the ominous fancies of middle of the view, appears like the Haidée take at last the definite form crowned head of some great being, of a regular dream, in which she sees resting on his elbow in contemplation; Juan dead in a cavern.

As she gazes repeat these verses, and I will venture on him, he seems to change into the to bet a plack to a bawbee, that from resemblance of her father. Startled that hour all animosity against the by the apparition, she awakes, and the wayward and unfortunate Byron will first object that her eyes meet are those be for ever hushed in thy bosom. Even of the pirate sternly fixed upon her-, John himself will, by the mere sound Juan is in the same moment roused by of thy solemn voice of prayer, thence- the shriek she gave. forth forego the grudge that he has “UpJuan sprung to Haidée's bitter shriek, long borne his lordship for the many

And caught her falling, and from off burdens he has made him bear, and,

the wall melting into tears of tenderness, dry Snatch'd down his sabre, in hot haste to

wreak the big drops from his eyes with a corner of the same handkerchief which

Vengeance on him who was the cause

of all : thou wilt apply to wipe the Ave Maria Then Lambro, who till now forbore to dew from thine own.

speak, While Haidée and Juan were con- Smiled scornfully, and said, “Within templating the glorious stillness of a

see.”

A thousand scimitars awalt the word ; “ I said they were alike, their features and Put up, young man, put up your silly Their stature differing but in sex and sword.'

years; “ And Haidée clung around him; • Juan, Even to the delicacy of their hands tis.

There was resemblance, such as true 'Tis Lambro-'tis my father! Kneel

blood wears ; with me

And now to see them, thus divided, stand He will forgive us yes-it must be

In fix'd ferocity, when joyous tears, yes.

And sweet sensations, should have welOh ! dearest father, in this agony

comed both, Of pleasure and of pain--even while I kiss Show whát the passions are in their full Thy garment's hem with transport, can

growth.' it be That doubt should mingle with my filial is spirited, and you will observe a

This, Christopher, you must allow, joy ? Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this curious mark of propinquity which the boy.'

poet notices with respect to the hands “ High and inscrutible the old

man stond; I suspect, is indebted for the first hint

of the father and daughter. The poet, Calm in his voice, and calm within his of this to Ali Pashaw, who, by the bye,

eyeNot always signs with him of calmest mood: is the original of Lambro; for when his

He look'd upon her, but gave no reply; Lordship was introduced, with his Then turn’d to Juan, in whose cheek the squat friend, Cam, to that agreeableblood

mannered tyrant, the vizier said that Oft came and went, as there resolved to he knew he was the Magotos Anthropos die ;

by the smallness of his ears and hands. In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring

Don Juan is dangerously wounded, On the first foe whom Lambro's call might and being seized by some of the pibring.

rate's sailors, is carried from the scene. “ • Young man, your sword ;' so Lambro The effect on poor Haidée is deploonce more said:

rable. Juan replied, “Not while this arm is

For several days she lay insensible, free.' The old man's cheek grew pale, but not and, when she awoke from her trance, with dread,

she was in such a state as Mlle. NobAnd drawing from his belt a pistol, he

let is seen in the ballet of Nina. The Replied, Your blood be then on your first time you see your venison friend, own head.'

the Thane of Fife, ask him if there is Then look'd close at the flint, as if to see not some reason to suspect that Byron 'Twas fresh, for he had lately used the lock, had her in his eye when he wrote the And next proceeded quietly to cock. following description : “ It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, “ Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth

That cocking of a pistol, when you know Her human clay is kindled; full of A moment more will bring the sight to power bear

For good or evil, burning from its birth, Upon your person, twelve yards off, or The Moorish blood partakes the planet's

hour, A gentlemanly distance, not too near, And like the soil beneath it will bring If you have got a former friend for foe;

forth : But after being fired at once or twice, Beauty and love were Haidée's mother's The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice. dower ;

But her large dark eye show'd deep Pas“ He gazed on her, and she on him ; 'twas Though sleeping like a lion near a source.

sion's force, strange How like they look'd! the expression “ Her daughter, temper'd with a milder was the same;

ray, Serenely savage, with a little change Like summer clouds all silvery, smooth, In the large dark eye's mutual darted and fair, flame;

Till slowly charged with thunder they disFor she too was as one who could avenge, play If cause should be a lioness, though Terror to earth, and tempest to the air,

Had held till now her soft and milky way; Her father's blood before her fathers's face But overwrought with passion and deBoild up, and proved her truly of his race. spair,

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