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LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM, AT MALTA.
As o’er the cold sepulchral stone

Some name arrests the passer-by ;
Thus, when thou view'st this page alone,

May mine attract thy pensive eye!
And when by tbee that name is read,

Perchance in some succeeding year,
Reflect on me as on the dead,
And think my heart is buried here.

September 14, 1809.

And who so cold as look on thee,

Thou lovely wanderer, and be less ?
Nor be, what man should ever be,

The friend of Beauty in distress ?
Ah! who would think that form had pass'd

Through Danger's most destructive path,
Had braved the death-wing’d tempest's blast,

And 'scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath?
Lady! when I shall view the walls

Where free Byzantium once arose,
And Stamboul's Oriental halls

The Turkish tyrants now enclose;
Though mightiest, in the lists of fame,

That glorious city still shall be;
On me 't will hold a dearer claim,

As spot of thy nativity:
And, though I bid thee now farewell,

When I behold that wondrous scene,
Since where thou art I may not dwell,
'T will soothe to be where thou hast lieen.

September, 1809.

TO FLORENCE.(1).

STANZAS

COMPOSED DURING A THUNDER-STORM. (2)

Oh, Lady! when I left the shore,

The distant shore which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,

To quit another spot on earth : Yet here, amidst this barren isle,

Where panting Nature droops the head, Where only thou art seen to smile,

I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craggy shore,

Divided by the dark-blue main ; A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er,

Perchance I view her cliffs again; But wheresoe'er I now may roam,

Though scorching clime, and varied sea, Though Time restore me to my home,

I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee: On thee, in whom at once conspire

All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is to admire,

And, oh! forgive the word- to love. Forgive the word, in one who ne'er

With such a word can more offend; And since thy heart I cannot share,

Believe me, what I am, thy friend.

Chill and mirk is the nightly blast,

Where Pindus' mountains rise,
And angry clouds are pouring fast

The vengeance of the skies.
Our guides are gone, our hope is lost,

And lightnings, as they play,
But show where rocks our path have cross'd,

Or gild the torrent's spray.
Is yon a cot I saw, though low?

When lightning broke the gloom-
How welcome were its shade!-ah, no!

'T is but a Turkish tomb.

no apple but what was sour as a crab; and thus ends my first prelly, very accomplished, and extremely eccentric. Bonaparie chapler."-E.

is even now so incensed against her, that her life would be in (1) These lines were written at Malla. The lady to whom danger if she were taken prisoner a second time."-E. they were addressed, and whom he afterwards apostrophises in (2) This thunder-storm occurred during the night of the 11th the stanzas on the thunder-storm of Zilza, and in Childe Harold, ociober, 1809, when Lord Byron's guides had lost the road to is thus mentioned in a letter to his mother:-"This letter is Zilza, near the range of mountains formerly called Pindus, in committed to the charge of a very extraordinary lady, whom Albania. Mr. Hobhouse, who had rode on before the rest of the you have doubtless heard of, Mrs. Spencer Smith, of whose party, and arrived at Zitza just as the evening set in, describes escape the Marquis de Salvo published a narrative a few years the thunder as “ roaring without intermission, the echoes of obe ago. She has since been shipwrecked; and her life has been peal not ceasing to roll in the mountains, before another lie from its commencement so fertile in remarkable incidents, that mendous crash burst over our heads; whilst the plains and ihe in a romance they would appear improbable. She was born al distane hills appeared in a perpetual blaze." “ The tempest." Constantinople, where her father, Baron Herbert, was Austrian he says, " was altogether terrific, and worthy of the Greciar ambassador; married unhappily, yet has never been impeached Jove. My friend, with the priest and the servants, did not enter in point of character; excited the vengeance of Bonaparte, by our hut till three in the morning. I now learnt from him that laking a part in some conspiracy; several times risked her life; they had lost their way, and that, after wandering up and do mi and is not yet five-and-twenty. She is bere on her way w Eng in iotal ignorance of their position, they had stopped at last land to join her husband, being obliged to leave Trieste, where sh near some Turkish tomb-stones and a torrent, which they say was paying a visit to her mother, by the approach of the French, by the flashes of lightning. Tbey had been thus exposed for and embarks soon in a ship of war. Since my arrival here i pine hours. It was long before we ceased to talk of the Ibundet" have bad scarcely any other companion. I have found her very storm in the plain of Zitza."-E

Through sounds of foaming waterfalls,

Again thou 'lt smile, and blushing shun I hear a voice exclaim

Some coxcomb's raillery; My way-worn countryman, who calls

Nor gwn for once thou thought'st of one, On distant England's name?

Who ever thinks on thee.
A shot is fired-by foe or friend ?

Though smile and sigh alike are vain,
Another-'tis to tell

When severd hearts repine,
The mountain-peasants to descend,

My spirit flies o'er mount and main,
And lead us where they dwell.

And mourns in search of thine.
Oh! who in such a night will dare

To tempt the wilderness?
And who 'mid thunder-peals can hear

STANZAS
Our signal of distress ?

WRITTEN IN PASSING THE AMBRACIAN GULF.
And who that heard our shouts would rise
To try the dubious road,

THROUGH cloudless skies, in silvery sheen, Nor rather deem from nightly cries

Full beams the moon on Actium's coast: That outlaws were abroad?

And on these waves, for Egypt's queen,

The ancient world was won and lost.
Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour!
More fiercely pours the storm!

And now upon the scene I look,
Yet here one thought has still the power

The azure grave of many a Roman;
To keep my bosom warm.

The stern Ambition once forsook
While wandering through each broken path,

His wavering crown to follow woman. O'er brake and craggy brow;

Florence! whom I will love as well
While elements exhaust their wrath,

As ever yet was said or sung
Sweet Florence, where art thou ?

(Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell),

Whilst thou art fair and I am young;
Not on the sea, not on the sea
Thy bark hath long been gone:

Sweet Florence! those were pleasant times, Oh, may the storm that pours on me

When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes : Bow down my head alone!

Had bards as many realms as rhymes, Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc,

Thy charms might raisę new Antonies. When last I press'd thy lip;

Though Fate forbids such things to be, And long ere now, with foaming shock,

Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curld! Impell’d thy gallant ship.

I cannot lose a world for thee, Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now

But would not lose thee for a world.

November 14, 1809. Hast trod the shore of Spain; 'T were hard if aught so fair as thou Should linger on the main.

THE SPELL IS BROKE, THE CHARM IS

FLOWN!
And since I now remember thee
In darkness and in dread,

WRITTEN AT ATHENS, JANUARY 16, 1810.
As in those hours of revelry
Which mirth and music sped;

The spell is broke, the charm is flown!

Thus is it with life's fitful fever: Do thou, amid the fair white walls,

We madly smile when we should groan; If Cadiz yet be free,

Delirium is our best deceiver.
At times from out her latticed halls

Each lucid interval of thought
Look o'er the dark blue sea;

Recalls the woes of Nature's charter,
Then think upon Calypso's isles,

And he that acts as wise men ought,
Endeard by days gone by;

But lives, as saints have died, a martyr.
To others give a thousand smiles,
To me a single sigh.

WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS And when the admiring circle mark

TO ABYDOS. (1)
The paleness of thy face,
A half-form'd tear, a transient spark

IF, in the month of dark December,
Of melancholy grace,

Leander, who was nighily wont (1) On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salselte (Captain of that frigate, and the writer of these rhymes, swam from this Bathursl) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead, European shore to the Asiatic-by the by, from Abydos lo Sevres

BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THB

FOLLOWING:

The modest bard, like many a bard unknown,
Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own;
But yet, whoe'er he be, to say no worse,
His name would bring more credit than his verse.(9)

(What maid will not the tale remember?)

To cross thy stream, broad Hellespont! If, when the wintry tempest roar'd,

He sped to Hero, nothing loth,
And thus of old thy current pour'd,

Fair Venus! how I pity both!
For me, degenerate modern wretch,

Though in the genial month of May,
My dripping limbs I faintly stretch,

And think I've done a feat to-day.
But since he cross'd the rapid tide,

According to the doubtful story,
To woo,-and-Lord knows what beside,

And swam for Love, as I for Glory;
’T were hard to say who fared the best :

Sad mortals! Thus the gods still plague you!
He lost his labour, I my jest:
For he was drown'd, and I've the ague.(1)

May 9, 1809.

PARAPHRASE FROM THE OPENING LINES

OF THE MEDEA OF EURIPIDES.

On how I wish that an embargo
Had kept in port the good ship Argo!
Who, still unlaunch'd from Grecian docks,
Had never pass'd the Azure rocks;
But now I fear her trip will be a
Damn'd business for my Miss Medea, etc.

EPITAPH.(3)
Youth, Nature, and relenting Jove,
To keep my lamp in strongly strove;
But Romanelli was so stout,
He beat all three--and blew it out.

LINES IN THE TRAVELLERS' BOOK AT

ORCHOMENUS.

IN THIS BOOK A TRAVELLER HAD WRITTEN:

FAIR Albion, smiling, sees her son depart
To trace the birth and nursery of art:
Noble his object, glorious is his aim;
He comes to Athens, and he writes his name.”

SUBSTITUTE FOR AN EPITAPH.
Kind Reader! take your choice to cry or laugh;
Here HAROLD lies—but where's his Epitaph?

would have been more correct. The whole distance, from the him so remarkably into his maturer years, and which, while it place whence we started to our landing on the other side, includ- puzzled distant observers of his conduct, was not among the ing the length we were carried by the current, was computed least amusing or allaching of his particularities to those who by those on board the frigate at upwards of four English miles; knew him intimately. So late as eleven years from the period, though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the when some sceptical traveller ventured 10 question, after all, current is such that no boat can row directly across, and it may, the practicability of Leander's exploit, Lord Byron, with ibat in some measure, be estimated from the circumstance of the jealousy on the subject of his own personal prowess which be whole distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an relained from boyhood, entered again with fresh zeal into the hour and tive, and by the other in an hour and len, minutes. discussion, and brought forward (wo or three other instances of The water was extremely cold, from the melting of the mountain his own seals in swimming to corroborate the statement ori. snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had made an ginally made by him. allempl; but, having ridden all the way from the Troad tbe same "In the year 1808, he had been nearly drowned while swinmorning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it ming at Brighton with Mr. L. Stanhope. His friend, Mr. Hobnecessary to postpone the completion lill the frigate anchored house, and other by-standers, sent in some boalmen with ropes below the castles, when we swam the straits, as just slated : en-Lied round them, who at last succeeded in dragging Lord Byron tering a considerable way above the European, and landing and Mr. Stanbope from the surs, and thus saved their lives."below the Asiatic, sort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam Moore. the same distance for his mistress; and Oliver mentions its bav- Lord Byron, on one occasion, swam across the Thames with ing been done by a Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, re- Mr. H. Drury, alter the Montem, to see how many times they membered neither of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade could perform the passage backwards and forwards without us from the attempt. A number of the Salselte's crew werulouching land. In this trial (at night, after supper, when both known to have accomplished a grealer distance; and the only were heated with drinking), Lord Byron was the conqueror. thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been enter. -E. tained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever eu- (2) “Al Orchomenus, where stood the Temple of the Graces, deavoured lo ascertain its practicability.

I was lempted to exclaim, “Whither bave the Graces led?' (1) “My companion bad before made a more perilous, bat Little did I expect to find them here; yet here comes one of a less celebrated passage; (or I recollect that, when we were them with golden cups and coffee, and another with a book. The in Portugal, he swam from Old Lisbon lo Belem Castle, and book is a register of names, some of which are far sounded by having to contend with a tide and counter current, the wind the voice of fame. Among them is Lord Byron's, connected blowing freshly, was but little less than two bours in crossing." with some lines which I here send you." 1. W. Williams.-E. --Hobhouse.

(3) "I have just escaped from a physician and a fever. The The exceeding pride which Byron took in the classic feat (of English consul forced a physician (Romanelli) upon me. In this swimming across the Hellespont) may be ciled among the in- state I made my epitaph-take it.” Leller to Mr. Hodgson, slances of that boyishness of character which he carried with Oct. 3, 1810.

With his three hundred waging

The battle, long he stood, And, like a lion raging, Expired in seas of blood.

Sons of Greeks, etc. (3)

TRANSLATION OF THE ROMAIC SONG,

Επαινώ μες το μεριβόλι, (4)

Ωραιοτάτη Χαηδή, κ, τ. λ. | ENTER thy garden of roses, (5)

Beloved and fair Haidée,
Each morning where flora reposes,

For surely I see her in thee.
Oh, lovely! thus low I implore thee,

Receive this fond truth from my tongue,
Which utters its song to adore thee,

Yet trembles for what it has sung.
As the branch, at the bidding of Nature,

Adds fragrance and fruit to the tree,
Through her eyes, through her every feature,

Shines the soul of the young Haidée. But the loveliest garden grows haleful

When Love has abandon'd the bowers; Brink me hemlock-since mine is ungrateful,

That herb is more fragrant than flowers.
The poison, when pour'd from the chalice,

Will deeply embitter the bowl:
But when drunk to escape from thy malice,

The draught shall be sweet to my soul. l'oo cruel! in vain limplore thee

My heart from these horrors to save: Will nought to my bosom restore thee?

Then open the gates of the grave.
As the chief who to combat advances

Secure of his conquest before,
Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances,

Hast pierced through my heart to its core.
Ah, tell me, my soul! must I perish

By pangs which a smile would dispel ? Would the hope, which thou once bad'st mecherish,

For torture repay me too well?

If such you seek, try Westminster, and view
Ten thousand just as fit for him as you.

Albens.

TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK

WAR SONG,
Δεύτε, παίδες των Ελλήνων, (1)
Sons of the Greeks, arise:

The glorious hour's gone forth,
And, worthy of such ties,

Display who gave us birth,

CHORUS.

Sons of Greeks! let us go
In arms against the foe,
Till their hated blood shall flow

In a river past our feet.
Then manfully despising

The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
Let your country see you rising,

And all her chains are broke.
Brave shades of chiefs and sages,

Behold the coming strife!
Hellenès of past ages,

Oh, start again to life!
At the sound of my trumpet, breaking

Your sleep, oh, join with me!
And the seven-hill'd (2) city seeking,
Fight, conquer, till we're free.

Sons of Greeks, etc.
Sparta, Sparta! why in slumbers

Lethargic dost thou lie?
Awake, and join thy numbers

With Athens, old ally!
Leonidas recalling,

That chief of ancient song,
Who saved ye once from falling,

The terrible! the strong!
Who made that bold diversion

In old Thermopylæ,
And warring with the Persian

To keep his country free;

(1) The song Acute Taides, etc., was written by Riga, who for a rising, which he and his comrades had for years been enperished in the attempt to revolutionise Greece. This transla-deavouring to accomplish.; but be was given up by the Austrian tion is as literal as the author could make it in verse. It is of government in the Turks, who vainly endeavoured by torture lo the same measure as that of the original. (While at the Capu- force from him the names of the other conspirators.-E. chin convent, Lord Byron devoted some hours daily to the (4) The song from wbich this is taken is a great favourite study of the Romaic; and various proofs of his diligence will be with the young girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner ol found in the Appendix to the Second Canto of Childe Harold, singing it is by verses in roialion, the whole number present p. 116, ante.-E.)

joining in the chorus. I have heard it frequently at our (2) Constantinople. “ÉTTónopos.

xópse" in the winter of 1810-11. The air is plaintive and pretty (3) Riga was a Thessalian, and passed the first part of bis youth (8) “National songs and popular works of amusement throw among his native mountains, in teaching ancient Greek to bis no small light on the manners of a people: they are materiais countrymen. On the first burst of the French revolution, he which most travellers have within their reach, but wbich they joined himself to some other enthusiasts, and with them peram- almost always disdain to collect. Lord Byron has shown a belter bulated Greece, rousing the bold, and eacouraging the timid Laste; and it is to be hoped that his example will, in future, be by his miostrelsy. He afterwards went to Vienna, lo solicit aid generally followed.” George Elis.

Now sad is the garden of roses,

Beloved but false Haidée! There Flora all wither'd reposes,

And mourns o'er thine absence with me.

By all the token-flowers (3) that tell
What words can never speak so well;
By love's alternate joy and woe,

Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet ! when alone.
Though I fly to Istambol, (4)
Athens holds my heart and soul:
Can I cease to love thee? No!
Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ

Albens, 1810

MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART.

LINES WRITTEN BENEATH A PICTURE. (5)

Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ. (1)
Maid of Athens, (2) ere we part,
Give, oh, give me back my heart!
Or, since that has left my breast,
Keep it now, and take the rest!
Hear my vow before I go,

Ζώη μου, σας αγαπώ.
By those tresses unconfined,
Woo'd by each Ægean wind;
By those lids, whose jetty fringe
Kiss thy soft cheeks' blooming tinge;
By those wild eyes like the roe,

Zan ucŪ, de kyats.
By that lip I long to taste;
By thật zone-encircled waist;

DEAR object of defeated care!

Though now of love and thee bereft,
To reconcile me with despair,

Thine image and my tears are left.
'T is said with sorrow Time can hope;

But this I feel can ne'er be true:
For by the death-blow of my hope
My memory immortal grew.(6)

Albens, January 1811.(7)

(1) Romaic expression of tenderness: If I translate it, I shall be said to be rather pensive. Their persons are elegant, and affront the gentlemen, as it may seem thal I supposed they their manners pleasing and ladylike, such as would be fascinatcould not; and if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear ing in any country. They possess very considerable powers of any misconstruction on the part of the latter, I shall do so, of conversation, and their minds seem to be more instructed begging pardon of the learned. It means, “My life, I love than those of the Greek women in general. With such allrae• you!" which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much tions, it would, indeed, be remarkable, if they did not meet with in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first great attentions from the travellers who occasionally are resident words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions in Athens. They sit in the eastern style, a little reclined, with were all Hellenized.

their limbs gathered under them on the divan, and without shoes. i (2) We copy the following interesting account of the Maid of Their employments are the needle, tambouring, and reading." Athens and her family from the late eminent artist, Mr. Hugo Moore states that Byron, in making love 10 one of the three Williams of Edinburgh's Travels in Italy, Greece, elc.—“Our Athenian maidens, “bad recourse to an act of courtship often servant, who had gone before to procure accommodation, inel praclised in that country-namely, giving himself a wound across us at the gate, and conducted us to Theodora Macri, the Con- the breast with his dagger. The young Athenian, by bis ott sulina's, where we at present live. This lady is the widow of the account, looked on very coolly during the operation, considerconsul, and bas three lovely daughters; the eldest, celebrated for ing it a fit tribute to her beauty, but in no degree moved 10 her beauty, and said to be the 'Maid of Athens,' of Lord Byron. gratitude.” Their apartment is immediately opposite to ours, and, if you (3) in the East (where ladies are not laught to write, lest could see them, as we do now, tbrough the gently-waving aro- they should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, etc. matic plants before our window, you would leave your heart in convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal depuly of Athens.

Mercury-an old woman. A cinder says, “I burn for thee;" “Theresa, the Maid of Athens, Calinco, and Mariana, are of a bunch of flowers lied with hair, "Take me and fly;" but a! middle stature. On the crown of the head of each is a red Al- pebble declares-what nothing else can. banian skull-cap, with a blue tassel spread out and fastened down (4) Constantinople. like a star. Near the edge or bollom of the skull-cap is a band (5) These lines are copied from a leaf of the original MS. ol kerchief of various colours bound round their temples. The the second canto of Childe Harold.-E. youngest wears her hair loose, falling on her shoulders,-the (6) “The last two lines, though hardly intelligible as connected bair behind descending down the back nearly to the waist, and, with the rest of life poem, may, taken separately, be interpreted as usual, mixed with silk. The two eldest generally have their as employing a sort of prophetic consciousness that it was out hair bound, and fastened under the handkerchief. Their upper of the wreck and ruin of all his hopes the immortality of bis robe is a pelisse edged with fur, hanging loose down to the ankles; name was to arise.” Moore. below is a handkerchief of muslin covering the bosom, and ler (7) On the departure, in July, 1810, of his friend and fellowminating at the waist, which is short; under that, a gown of traveller, Mr. Hobhouse, for England, Lord Byron fixed bis striped silk or muslin, with a gore round the swell of the loins, head-quarters at Athens, where he had laken lodgings in a Frar falling in front in graceful negligence;-white stockings and ciscan convent; making occasional excursions through Allica yellow slippers complete their attire. The two eldest have black, and the Morea, and employing himself, in the interval of his or dark, hair and eyes; their visage oval, and complexion some cours, in collecting materials for those notices on the state of wbat pale, with teeth of dazzling wbileness. Their cheeks are modern Greece which are appended to the second canto ol rounded, and noses straight, rather inclined to aquiline. The Childe Harold. In this retreat also he wrote Hints from Horace

, youngesi, Mariana, is very fair, her face not so finely rounded, The Curse of Minerva, and Remarks on the Romaic, or Yobut has a gayer expression than her sister's, whose countenances dern Greek Language. He thus writes to his mother :-"* except when the conversation has something of mirth in it, may present, I do not care to venture a winter's voyage, even ill

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