But thou art cold, my murder'd love! And leaves my soul unworthy saving. She sunk, with her my joys entombing; I swept that flower from Judah's stem Whose leaves for me alone were blooming; And mine 's the guilt, and mine the hell, This bosom's desolation dooming; And I have earn'd those tortures well Which, unconsumed, are still consuming! ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF FROM the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome Flash'd back on the last glance I gave to thy wall. They demanded the song; but, oh never That triumph the stranger shall know! May this right hand be wither'd for ever, Ere it string our high harp for the foe! On the willow that harp is suspended, Oh Salem! its sound should be free; And the hour when thy glories were ended But left me that token of thee: And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended With the voice of the spoiler by me! THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB. THE Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen : Like the leaves of the forest when autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, A SPIRIT PASS'D BEFORE ME. A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine- Things of a day! you wither ere the night, Our hands may be fetter'd-our tears still are free Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light !"(1) For our God and our glory-and Sion! oh thee! IN THE VALLEY OF WATERS. In the valley of waters we wept o'er the day When the host of the stranger made Salem his prey, And our heads on our bosoms all droopingly lay, And our hearts were so full of the land far away. The song they demanded in vain-it lay still In our souls, as the wind that hath died on the hill; They call'd for the harp-but our blood they shall spill Ere our right hands shall teach them one tone of our skill. All stringlessly hung on the willow's sad tree, (1) “The Hebrew Melodies, though obviously inferior to Lord Byron's other works, display a skill in versification, and a mastery in diction, which would have raised an inferior artist to the very summit of distinction. Jeffrey. (2) The musical composer of the Hebrew Melodies, Mr. Nathan, gives the annexed anecdote relative to these lines:-"Having been officiously taken up by a person who arrogated to himself some self-importance in criticism, and who made an observation upon their demerits, Lord Byron quaintly observed, 'They were written in haste, and they shall perish in the same manner!' and imme THEY SAY THAT HOPE IS HAPPINESS. THEY say that hope is happiness; But genuine love must prize the past, And memory wakes the thoughts that bless; They rose the first-they set the last. And all that memory loves the most Was once our only hope to be, And all that hope adored and lost Hath melted into memory. Alas! it is delusion all; The future cheats us from afar, Nor can we be what we recall, Nor dare we think on what we are. (2) diately consigned them to the flames. As my music adapted to them, however, did not share the same fate, and having a contrary opinion of any thing that might fall from the pen of his Lordship, I treasured them up, and on a subsequent interview with his Lordship, I accused him of having committed suicide in making so valuable a burnt-offering: to which he smilingly replied, 'The act seems to inflame you; come, Nathan, since you are displeased with the sacrifice, I will give them to you as a peace-offering, use them as you may deem proper."" The Siege of Corinth. "") TO JOHN HOBHOUSE, ESQ. This Poem is Inscribed, BY HIS FRIEND. ADVERTISEMENT. "THE Grand army of the Turks (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into (1) The Siege of Corinth, which appears, by the original MS. to have been begun in July, 1815, made its appearance in January, 1816. Mr. Murray having enclosed Lord Byron a thousand guineas for the copyright of this poem and of Parisina, he replied,"Your offer is liberal in the extreme, and much more than the two poems can possibly be worth; but I cannot accept it, nor will not. You are most welcome to them, as additions to the collected vofumes; but I cannot consent to their separate publication. I do not like to risk any fame (whether merited or not) which I have been favoured with upon compositions which I do not feel to be at all equal to my own notions of what they should be though they may do very well as things without pretension, to add to the | publication with the lighter pieces. I have enclosed your draft torn, for fear of ccidents by the way-I wish you would not throw temptation in mine. It is not from a disdain of the universal idol, nor from a present superfluity of his treasures, I can the heart of the Morea, and to form the siege of Napoli di Romania, the most considerable place in all that country, (2) thought it best in the first place to attack Corinth, upon which they made several storms. The garrison being weakened, and the assure you, that I refuse to worship him; but what is right is right, and must not yield to circumstances. I am very glad that the hand-writing was a favourable omen of the morale of the piece; but you must not trust to that, for my copyist would write out any thing I desired, in all the ignorance of innocence -1 hope, however, in this instance, with no great peril to either." The copyist was Lady Byron. Lord Byron gave Mr. Gifford carte-blanche to strike out or alter any thing at his pleasure in this poem, as it was passing through the press; and the reader will be amused with the varia lectiones which had their origin in this extraordinary confidence. Mr. Gifford drew his pen, it will be seen, through at least one of the most admired passages. -E. (2) Napoli di Romania is not now the most considerable place in the Morea, but Tripolitza, where the Pacha resides, and maintains his government. Napoli is near Argos. I visited all three governor seeing it was impossible to hold out against so mighty a force, thought it fit to beat a parley but while they were treating about the articles, one of the magazines in the Turkish camp, wherein they had six hundred barrels of powder, blew up by accident, whereby six or seven hundred men were killed; which so enraged the infidels, that they would not grant any capitulation, but stormed the place with so much fury, that they took it, and put most of the garrison, with Signior Minotti, the governor, to the sword. The rest, with Antonio Bembo, proveditor extraordinary, were made prisoners of war."-History of the Turks, vol. iii. p. 151. Or stretch'd on the beach, or our saddles spread All our thoughts and words had scope, But some are dead, and some are gone But those hardy days flew cheerily! Over the earth, and through the air, in 1810-11; and in the course of journeying through the country ment to Mr. Murray, says,-"I send some lines, written some from my first arrival in 1809, I crossed the Isthmus eight times time ago, and intended as an opening to the Siege of Corinth. in my way from Attica to the Morea, over the mountains; or in I had forgotten them, and am not sure that they had not better the other direction, when passing from the Gulf of Athens to be left out now;-on that, you and your synod can determine." that of Lepanto. Both the routes are picturesque and beautiful,-"They are written," says Moore, "in the loosest form of that though very different that by sea has more sameness; but the voyage being always within sight of land, and often very near it, presents many attractive views of the islands Salamis, Egina, Poro, etc. and the coast of the Continent. rambling style of metre, which his admiration of Mr. Coleridge's Christabel led him, at this time, to adopt." It will be seen, hereafter, that the poet had never read Christabel at the time when he wrote these lines;-he had, however, the Lay of the Last Minstrel. With regard to the character of the species of versification at this time so much in favour, it may be observed that feeble imitations have since then vulgarised it a good deal to the general ear; but that, in the hands of Mr. Coleridge, Sir Walter Scott, and Lord Byron himself, it has often been employed with the most happy effect. Its irregularity, when moulded under the guidance of a delicate taste, is more to the eye than to the ear, and in fact not greater than was admitted in some of the most delicious of the lyrical measures of the ancient Greeks. (1) "With regard to the observations on carelessness, etc." wrote Lord Byron to a friend, "I think, with all humility, that the gentle reader has considered a rather uncommon, and decidedly irregular, versification for haste and negligence. The measure is not that of any of the other poems, which (I believe) were allowed to be tolerably correct, according to Byshe and the fingers-or-cars-by which bards write, and readers reckon. Great part of the Siege is in (I think) what the learned call anapests, (though I am not sure, being heinqusly forgetful of my metres and my Gradus,) and many of the lines intentionally-E. longer or shorter than its rhyming companion; and the rhyme also occurring at greater or less intervals of caprice or convenience. I mean not to say that this is right or good, but merely that I could have been smoother, had it appeared to me of advantage; and that I was not otherwise without being aware of the deviation, though I now feel sorry for it, as I would undoubtedly rather please than not. My wish has been to try at something different from my former efforts; as I endeavoured to make them differ from each other. The versification of The Corsair is not that of Lara; nor the Giaour that of the Bride: Childe Harold is, again, varied from these; and I strove to vary the last somewhat from all of the others. Excuse all this nonsense and egotism. The fact is, that I am rather trying to think on the subject of this note, than really thinking on it."-B. Letters, Feb. 1816. (2) On Christmas-day, 1815, Lord Byron, enclosing this frag (3) In one of his sea excursions, Lord Byron was nearly lost in a Turkish ship of war, owing to the ignorance of the captain and crew. "Fletcher," he says, "yelled; the Greeks called on all the saints; the Mussulmans on Alla; while the captain burst into tears, and ran below deck. I did what I could to console Fielcher; but finding him incorrigible, I wrapped myself up in my Albanian capote, and lay down to wait the worst." This striking instance of the poet's coolness and courage is thus confirmed by Mr. Hobhouse:-" Finding that, from his lameness, he was unable to be of any service in the exertions which our very serious danger called for, after a laugh or two at the panic of his valet, he not only wrapped himself up and lay down, in the manner he has described, but when our difficulties were termi nated was found fast asleep."-E. (4) The last tidings recently heard of Dervish (one of the Ar Many a vanish'd year and age, And tempest's breath, and battle's rage, More mountain-like, through those clear skies, Which seems the very clouds to kiss. (3) II. On dun Citharon's ridge appears The gleam of twice ten thousan. ears; naouts who followed me) state him to be in revolt upon the mountains, at the head of some of the bands common in that country in times of trouble. (1) In the original MS.— "A marvel from her Moslem bands."-E. (2) Timoleon, who had saved the life of his brother Timophanes in battle, afterwards killed him for aiming at the supreme power in Corinth, preferring his duty to his country to all the obligation of blood. Dr. Warton says, that Pope once intended to write an epic poem on the story, and that Dr. Akenside had the same design.-E. (5) The Giaour, the Bride of Abydos, the Corsair, Lara, the Siege of Corinth, followed each other with a celerity which was only rivalled by their success; and if at times the author seemed to pause in his poetic career, with the threat of forbearing further adventure for a time, the public eagerly pardon ed the breach of a promise by keeping which they must have been sufferers. Exquisitely beautiful in themselves, these tales received a new charm from the romantic climes into which they introduced us, and from the oriental costume so strictly preserved and so picturesquely exhibited. Greece, the cradle of the poetry with which our earliest studies are familiar, was presented to us among her ruins and her sorrows. Her delightful scenery, once dedicated to those deities who, though dethroned from their own And, downward to the Isthmian plain, III. But near and nearest to the wall The soldier slackening in his fire; Olympus, still preserve a poetical empire, was spread before us in Lord Byron's poetry, varied by all the moral effect derived from what Greece is and what she has been, while it was doubled by comparisons, perpetually excited, between the philosophers and heroes who formerly inhabited that romantic country, and their descendants, who either stoop to their Scythian conquerors, or maintain, among the recesses of their classical monntains, an independence as wild and savage as it is precarious. The orientat manners, also, and diction, so peculiar in their picturesque effect that they can cast a charm even over the absurdities of an eastern tale, had here the more honourable occupation of decorating that which in itself was beautiful, and enhancing by novelty what would have been captivating without its aid. The powerful impression produced by this peculiar species of poetry confirmed us in a principle, which, though it will hardly be challenged when stated as an axiom, is very rarely complied with in practice. It is, that every author should, like Lord Byron, form to himself, and communicate to the reader, a precise, defined, and distinct view of the landscape, sentiment, or action, which he intends to describe to the reader." Sir Walter Scott. (4) Turkish holders of military fiefs which oblige them to join the army, mounted at their own expense.-E. (5) The life of the Turcomans is wandering and patriarchal: they dwell in tents. The first and freshest of the host From Venice-once a race worth 4. Coumourgi (1)—he whose closing scene (1) All Coumourgi, the favourite of three Sultans, and Grand Vizier to Achmet III., after recovering Peloponnesus from the Venetians in one compaign, was mortally wounded in the next, against the Germans, at the battle of Peterwaradin (in the plain of Carlowitz), in Hungary, endeavouring to rally his guards. He died of his wounds next day. His last order was the decapitation of General Breuner, and some other German prisoners; and his last words, "Oh that I could thus serve all the Christian And proved, by many a deed of death, How firm his heart in novel faith. VI. The walls grew weak; and fast and hot Against them pour'd the ceaseless shot, With unabating fury sent From battery to battlement; And, thunder-like, the pealing din And here and there some crackling dome VII. But not for vengeance, long delay'd, Whose heart refused him in its ire, He glitter'd through the carnival; |