The cause of the curses all annals contain, Wear, Fingal, thy trapping! O'Connell, proclaim His accomplishments! His !!! and thy country convince Half an age's contempt was an error of fame, And that "Hal is the rascaliest, sweetest young prince!" Will thy yard of blue riband, poor Fingal, recall The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs ? Or, has it not bound thee the fastest of all The slaves, who now hail their betrayer with hymns ? Ay! "Build him a dwelling!" let each give his mite! Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they groan! woe! Let the wine flow around the old Bacchanal's throne, Like their blood which has flow'd, and which yet has to flow. But let not his name be thine idol alone On his right hand behold a Sejanus appears! Thine own Castlereagh ! let him still be thine own! A wretch never named but with curses and jeers! Till now, when the isle which should blush for his birth, Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil, Seems proud of the reptile which crawl'd from her earth, And for murder repays him with shouts and a smile! Without one single ray of her genius, without The fancy, the manhood, the fire of her raceThe miscreant who well might plunge Erin in doubt If she ever gave birth to a being so base: If she did let her long-boasted proverb be hush'd, Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can spring See the cold-blooded serpent, with venom full flush'd, Still warming its folds in the breast of a king! Shout, drink, feast, and flatter! Oh! Erin, how low My vote, as a freeman's, still voted thee free, This hand, though but feeble, would arm in thy fight, And this heart, though outworn, had a throb still for thee! Yes, I loved thee and thine, though thou art not my land, [sons, I have known noble hearts and great souls in thy And I wept with the world o'er the patriot band Who are gone, but I weep them no longer as once. For happy are they now reposing afar,— Thy Grattan, thy Curran, thy Sheridan,-all Who, for years, were thy chiefs in the eloquent war, And redeem'd, if they have not retarded, thy fall. Yes, happy are they in their cold English graves! Their shades cannot start to thy shouts of to-dayNor the steps of enslavers and chain-kissing slaves Be stamp'd in the turf o'er their fetterless clay. Till now I had envied thy sons and their shore, Though their virtues were hunted, their liberties SONNET TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. Sacred to art, to genius, and to worth, The warmth that nursed it till its fruit it bare. None more than thou have true desert extoll'd, None more than thou have scorn'd the heartless proud. How many sufferers hast thou consoled All silently! Nor need they speak aloud, In hopes to shame the wretch condemn'd to carve Food for foul stomachs, or himself to starve. FRANCESCA DA RIMINI. DANTE, L'INferno. CANTO V. "SIEDE la terra dove nata fui Su la marina, dove il Po discende, Che mi fu tolta ; e il modo ancor m'offende. Mi prese del costui piacer si forte, Caiua attende chi in vita ci spense :" (1) This translation, of what is generally considered the most exquisitely pathetic episode in the Divina Commedia, was executed in March, 1820, at Ravenna, where, just five centuries before, and in the very house in which the unfortunate lady was born, Dante's poem had been composed. FRANCESCA OF RIMINI. FROM THE INFERNO OF DANTE.(1) "THE land where I was born (2) sits by the seas, Remits, seized me with wish to please, so strong, But Cainà (4) waits for him our life who ended:" feelings.' Of gentle feelings!-and Francesca of Rimini-and the father's feelings in Ugolino-and Beatrice-and 'La Pia!' Why, there is a gentleness in Dante beyond all gentleness, when he is tender. It is true that, treating of the Christian Hades, or Hell, there is not much scope or site for gentleness: but who but Dante could have introduced any 'gentleness' at all into Hell? Is there any in Milton's? No-and Dante's Heaven is all love, and glory, and majesty." Francesca, daughter of Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna and of Cervia, was given by her father in marriage to Lanciotto, son of Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, a man of extraordinary cou In mitigation of the crime of Francesca, Boccaccio relates, that "Guido engaged to give his daughter in marriage to Lanciotto, the eldest son of his enemy, the master of Rimini. Lanciolto, who was hideously deformed in countenance and figure, foresaw that, if he presented himself in person, he should be rejected by the lady. He therefore resolved to marry her by proxy, and sent as his representative his younger brother, Paolo, the hand-rage, but deformed in his person. His brother Paolo, who unsomest and most accomplished man in all Italy. Francesca saw Paolo arrive, and imagined she beheld her future husband. That mistake was the commencement of her passion. The friends of Guido addressed him in strong remonstrances, and mournful predictions of the dangers to which he exposed a daughter, whose high spirit would never brook to be sacrificed with impunity. But Guido was no longer in a condition to make war; and the necessities of the politician overcame the feelings of the father." In transmitting his version to Mr. Murray, Lord Byron says "Enclosed you will find, line for line, in third rhyme (terza rima), of which your British blackguard reader as yet understands nothing, Fanny of Rimini. You know that she was born here, and married, and slain, from Cary, Boyd, and such people. I have done it into cramp English, line for line, and rhyme for rhyme, to try possibility. If it is published, publish it with the original." In one of the poet's MS. Diaries we find the following passage: -"January 29, 1821, past midnight-one of the clock. I have been reading Frederick Schlegel till now, and I can make out nothing. He evidently shows a great power of words, but there is nothing to be taken hold of. He is like Hazlitt in English, who talks pimples; a red and white corruption rising up (in little imitation of mountains upon maps), but containing nothing. and discharging nothing, except their own humours. I like him the worse (that is Schlegel), because he always seems upon the verge of meaning; and, lo! he goes down like sunset, or melts like a rainbow, leaving a rather rich confusion. Of Dante, he says, that at no time has the greatest and most national of all Italian poets ever been much the favourite of his countrymen!' 'Tis false. There have been more editors and commentators (and imitators ultimately) of Dante, than of all their poets put together. Not a favourite! Why, they talk Dante-write Dante-and think and dream Dante, at the moment (1821), to an excess which would be ridiculous, but that he deserves it. He says also that Dante's 'chief defect is a want, in a word, of gentle *Lectures on the History of Literature, Ancient and Modern. happily possessed those graces which the husband of Francesca wanted, engaged her affections; and being taken in adultery, they were both put to death by the enraged Lanciotto. The interest of this pathetic narrative is much increased, when it is recollected that the father of this unfortunate lady was the beloved friend and generous protector of Dante during his latter days. See ante, p. 373, and also Canto xxvii. of the Inferno, where Dante, speaking of Ravenna, says "L'aquila da Polenta la si cova Si che Cervia ricopre co' suoi vanni." And in his broad circumference of plume Guido was the son of Ostasio da Polenta, and made himself (3) Among Lord Byron's unpublished letters we find the following:-" Varied readings of the translation from Dante. Seized him for the fair person, which in its Bloom was ta'en from me, yet the mode offends. Fin ch' il poeta mi disse: "Che pense ?" E cominciai: "Francesca, i tuoi martiri Nella miseria: (1) e ciò sa il tuo dottore. Ma, se a conoscer la prima radice Del nostro amor tu hai cotanto affetto Farò (2) come colui che piange e dice. Noi leggevamo un giorno per diletto Di Lancillotto, (3) come Amor lo strinse : Soli eravamo, e senza alcun sospetto. Pev più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso: Esser baciato da cotanto amante, Galeotto fu il libro, e chi lo scrisseQuel giorno più non vi leggemmo avante." Mentre che l' uno spirto questo disse, L'altro piangeva sì, che di pietade lo venni men così com' io morisse, E caddi, come corpo morto cade. (3) One of the Knights of Arthur's Round Table, and the lover of Genevra, celebrated in romance. See Southey's King Arthur, vol. i. p. 52. Whitaker, the historian of Manchester, makes out for the knight both a local habitation and a name. "The name of Lancelot," he says, "is an appellation truly British, and significative of royalty; Lance being a Celtic term for a spear, and Leod, Lod, or Lot, importing a people. He was therefore (!) a British sovereign; and since he is denominated Lancelot of the Lake, perhaps (!) he resided at Coccium, in the region Linnis, and was the monarch of Lancashire; as the kings of Creones, living at Selma, on the forest of Morven, are generally denominated sovereigns of Morven; or, more properly, was king of Cheshire, and resided at Pool-ton Lancelot, in the "What think'st thou ?" said the bard; when I unAnd recommenced: "Alas! unto such ill [bended, How many sweet thoughts, what strong ecstasies Led these their evil fortune to fulfil!" And then I turn'd unto their side my eyes, And said, "Francesca, thy sad destinies By what and how thy love to passion rose, I will do even as he who weeps and says. Of Lancilot, how love enchain'd him too. We were alone, quite unsuspiciously. But oft our eyes met, and our cheeks in hue All o'er discolour'd by that reading were; But one point only wholly us o'erthrew; When we read the long-sigh'd-for smile of her, To be thus kiss'd by such devoted lover, He who from me can be divided ne'er Kiss'd my mouth, trembling in the act all over. Accursed was the book and he who wrote! That day no further leaf we did uncover." While thus one spirit told us of their lot, The other wept, so that with pity's thralls I swoon'd as if by death I had been smote, And fell down even as a dead body falls.(4) Let him think of the glories of Greece and of Rome And, if not shot or hang'd, you'll get knighted. hundred of Wirral." See also Ellis's Specimens of early Remances, vol. i. p. 271.-E. (4) The story of Francesca and Paolo is a great favourite with the Italians. It is noticed by all the historians of Ravenna. Petrarch introduces it, in his Trionfi d'Amore, among his examples of calamitous passion; and Tassoni, in his Secchia Rimini, and describes him, when mounted on his charger, as Rapita, represents Paolo Malatesta as leading the troops of contemplating a golden sword chain, presented to him by Francesca: Rimini vien con la bandiera sesta, At parting-time, from which his sword was hung; Adding new pangs to those his heart had wrung; The firmer he was bound, the deeper stung."-E. (5) "If honour should come unlooked for' to any of your ac from whence there is no for the Days-whatever there may the Thirty-Third Year be a lingering disease of many months, and expired, January 22d 1821, A. D. for the very loss which occasioned its (1) In Lord Byron's MS. Diary of the preceding day, we find the following entry:-" January 21,1821. Dined-visited-came home-read. Remarked on an anecdote in Grimm's Correspondence, which says, that 'Regnard et la plupart des poètes comiques étaient gens bilieux et mélancoliques; et que M. de Voltaire, qui est très gai, n'a jamais fait que des tragédies-et que la comédie gaie est le seul genre où il n'ait point réussi. C'est que celui qui rit et celui qui fait rire sont deux hommes fort différents!' At this moment I feel as bilious as the best comic writer of them all (even as Regnard himself, the next to Molière, who has written some of the best comedies in any lan-mean to present an address at Brandenburg House, 'in armour,' guage,and who is supposed to have committed suicide), and am not in spirits to continue my proposed tragedy. To-morrow is my birth-day-that is to say, at twelve o' the clock, midnight; i. e in twelve minutes, I shall have completed thirty-and-three years of age!!!-and I go to my bed with a heaviness of heart at having lived so long, and to so little purpose. * . It is three minutes past twelve-Tis the middle of night by the Eheu, fugaces, Posthume, Posthume, but I don't regret them so much for what I have done, as for what He then adds the following singular ЕРІТАРН. 1821. Here lies interred in the eternity (2) "Have you heard that the 'Brasiers' Company' have, or and with all possible variety and splendour of brazen apparel?" Lord B to Mr. Moore, Ravenna, 1821.-E. (5) "There is an epigram for you, is it not?-worthy Of Wordsworth, the grand metaquizzical poet, A man of vast merit, though few people know it; (4) "Are you aware that Shelley has written an Elegy on John Keats?"-entitled Adonais-“and accuses the Quarterly Review of killing him." Letter to Murray. (5) "I composed these stanzas (except the fourth, added now) a few days ago, on the road from Florence to Pisa." B. Diary, Pisa, 6th Nov. 1821.-E. "I enclose you some lines written not long ago, which you may do what you like with, as they are very harmless. Only, if copied, or printed, or set, I could write it more correctly than Then away with all such from the head that is hoary! OH FAME!(1)-if I e'er took delight in thy praises, EPIGRAMS. OH, Castlereagh! thou art a patriot now; So Castlereagh has cut his throat!-The worst So he has cut his throat at last!-He! Who? EPITAPH. POSTERITY will ne'er survey A nobler grave than this: in the usual way in which one's nothings are 'monstered,' as TO MR. MURRAY. FOR Orford (2) and for Waldegrave (3) And if, as the opinion goes, But now this sheet is nearly cramm'd, THE CHARITY BALL. (5) WHAT matter the pangs of a husband and father, Be driven to excesses which once could appal- ELEGY ON THE RECOVERY OF LADY ****. have had my share: it has, indeed, been leavened by other hu- (2) Horace Walpole's Memoirs of the last Nine Years of the Reign of George II.-E. (3) Memoirs by James Earl Waldegrave, Governor of (1) As far as FAME goes (that is to say, living Fame), I have had my share, perhaps-indeed, certainly-more than my deserts. Some odd instances have occurred to my own experience of the wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate,and where it may impress. Two years ago-(almost three, being in August, or July, 1819)-I received at Ravenna a letter in English verse from Drontheim in Norway,written by a Norwegian, and full of the usual compliments, etc. etc. In the same month I received an invi-George III. when Prince of Wales.-E. tation into Holstein, from a Mr. Jacobson, I think, of Hamburgh; also (by the same medium) a translation of Medora's song in the Corsair, by a Westphalian baroness (not Thunderton-tronck'), with some original verses of hers (very pretty and Klopstockish), and a prose translation annexed to them, on the subject of my wife. As they concerned her more than me, I sent them to her with Mr Jacobson's letter. It was odd enough to receive an invitation to pass the summer in Holstein, while in Italy, from people I never knew. The letter was addressed to Venice. Mr. J. talked to me of the wild roses growing in the Holstein summer:' why, then, did the Cimbri and the Teutones emigrate ?What a strange thing is life and man! Were I to present myself at the door of the house where my daughter now is, the door would be shut in my face, unless (as is not impossible) I knocked down the porter; and if I had gone in that year (and perhaps now) to Drontheim (the furthest in Norway) or into Holstein, I should have been received with open arms into the mansions of strangers and foreigners-attached to me by no tie but that of mind and rumour. As far as Fame goes, I be arranged with Mr. Douglas Kinnaird. He is my trustee, and (4) "Can't accept your courteous offer. These matters must a man of honour. To him you can state all your mercantile reasons, which you might not like to state to me personally, such as heavy season'-'flat public'—' don't go off'-lordship writes too much'-' won't take advice'-'declining popularity''deduction for the trade'-'make very little'-'generally lose by him-pirated edition-foreign edition'-severe criticisms,' etc. with other hints and howls for an oration, which I leave Douglas, who is an orator, to answer."-Lord B. to Mr. Murray, Aug. 23, 1821.-E "The argument of the above [stanzas] is that he wanted to stint me of my sizeings,' as Lear says,—that is to say, not to propose an extravagant price for an extravagant poem, as is becoming." Lord B. to Mr. Moore, Ravenna, 1822 —E. (5) These lines were written on reading in the newspapers, that Lady Byron had been patroness of a ball in aid of some charity at Hinckley.-E. (6) Marino Faliero, which failed on the stage.-E. |