Page images

ages of

The cause of the curses all annals contain,

Shout, drink, feast, and falter! Oh! Erin, how low From Cæsar the dreaded to George the despised ! Wert thou sunk by misfortune and tyranny, till Wear, Fingal, thy trapping! O'Connell, proclaim Thy welcome of tyrants hath plunged thee below

The depth of thy deep in a deeper gulf still. His accomplishments! His !!! and thy country convince

My voice, though but humble, was raised for thy Half an age's contempt was an error of fame,

right, And that “Hal is the rascaliest, sweetest young

My vole, as a freeman's, still voted thee free, prince!”

This hand, though but feeble, would arm in thy figbl,

And this heart, though outworn, had a throb still Will thy yard of blue riband, poor Fingal, recall

for thee! The fetters from millions of Catholic limbs ? Or, has it not bound thee the fastest of all

Yes, I loved thee and thine, though thou art not my The slaves, who now hail their betrayer with


sons, hymns ?

I have known noble hearts and great souls in thy

And I wept with the world o'er the patriot band Ay! “Build him a dwelling!” let each give his mite!

Who are gone, but I weep them no longer as once. Till, like Babel, the new royal dome hath arisen! Let thy beggars and helots their pittance unite

For happy are they now reposing afar,And a palace bestow for a poor-house and prison !

Thy Grattan, thy Curran, thy Sheridan,-all

Who, for years, were thy chiefs in the eloquent war, Spread-spread, for Vitellius, the royal repast, And redeem'd, if they have not retarded, thy fall

. Till the gluttonous despot be stuff d to the gorge! And the roar of his drunkards proclaim him at last Yes, happy are they in their cold English graves! The Fourth of the fools and oppressors callid

Their shades cannot start to thy shouts of to-day“George !"

Nor the steps of enslavers and chain-kissing slaves

Be stamp'd in the turf o'er their fetterless clay. Let the tables be loaded with feasts till they groan! Till they groan like thy people, rou

Till now I had envied thy sons and their shore, woe!

Though their virtues were hunted, their liberties Let the wine flow around the old Bacchanal'sthrone,


(core Like their blood which has flow'd, and which yet

There was something so warm and sublime in the has to flow.

Of an Irishman's heart, that I envy—thy dead. But let not his name be thine idol alone

Or, if aught in my bosom can quench for an hour On his right hand behold a Sejanus appears!

My contempt for'a nation so servile, though sore, Thine own Casılereagh! let him still be thine own! Which though trod like the worm will not turn A wretch never named but with curses and jeers!

upon power,

'Tis the glory of Grattan, and genius of Moore! Till now, when the isle which should blush for his

birth, Deep, deep as the gore which he shed on her soil,

SONNET TO SAMUEL ROGERS, ESQ. Seems proud of the reptile which crawl'd from her ROGERS! much honour'd, howsoe'er assaila earth,

By wanton ignorance or ribald mirth, And for murder repays him with shouts and a Thy dwelling as a temple has been hail'd smile!

Sacred to art, to genius, and to worth, Without one single ray of her genius, without

Thyself the high priest. Star and coronet The fancy, the manhood, the fire of her race

Are mated there with blushing merit; there The miscreant who well might plunge Erin in doubt

The frost-nipp'd bud of talept oft hath met If she ever gave birth to a being so base:

The warmth that nursed it till its fruit it bare.

None more than thou have true desert extolld, If she did- let her long-boasted proverb be hush’d, None more than thou have scorn'd the heartless Which proclaims that from Erin no reptile can

proud. spring

How many sufferers hast thou consoled See the cold blooded serpent, with venom full All silently! Nor need they speak aloud, flush'd,

In hopes to shame the wretch condemn’d to carve Still warming its folds in the breast of a king! Food for foul stomachs, or himself to starve.




CANTO V. "Suede la terra dove nata fui

“The land where I was born (2) sits by the seas, Su la marina, dove il Po discende,

Upon that.shore to which the Po descends,
Per aver pace coi seguaci sui,

With all his followers, in search of peace. Amor, che al cor gentil ratto s' apprende, Love, which the gentle heart soon apprehends, Prese costui della bella persona

Seized him for the fair person which was ta’en(3) Che mi fu tolta; e il modo ancor m’offende. from me, and me even yet the mude offends. Amor, che a null'amato amar perdona, Love, who to none beloved to love again Mi prese del costui piacer si forte,

Remits, seized me with wish to please, so strong, Che, come vedi, ancor non m'abbandona; That, as thou seest, yet, yet it doth remain. Amor condusse noi ad una morte:

Love to one death conducted us along,
Caina altende chi in vita ci spense :"

But Caina (4) waits for him our life who ended :"
Queste parole da lor ci fur porte.

These were the accents utter'd by her tongue. Da ch'io intesi quell'anime offense

Since I first listen'd to these souls offended,
Chinai il viso, e tanto il tenni basso

I bow'd my visage, and so kept it till

(1) This translation, of what is generally considered the most feelings.' of gentle feelings!-and Francesca of Rimini-and exquisitely pathetic episode in the Divina Commedia, was the father's feelings in Ugolino-and Beatrice--and 'La Pia!' executed in March, 1820, at Ravenna, where, just five centuries Why, there is a gentleness in Dante beyond all gentleness, when before, and in tbe very house in which the unfortunate lady was he is tender. It is true that, treating of the Christian Hades, or born, Dante's poem had been composed.

Hell, there is not much scope or site for gentleness: but who In mitigation of the crime of Francesca, Boccaccio relates, that but Danle could have introduced any gentleness' at all into "Guido engaged to give his daughter in marriage to Lanciollo, Hell? Is there any in Milton's ? No-and Dante's Heaven is the eldest son of his enemy, the master of Rimini. Lanciotto, all love, and glory, and majesty." who was hideously deformed in countenance and figure, foresaw Francesca, daughter of Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna thal, if he presented himself in person, he should be rejected and of Cervia, was given by her father in marriage to Lanciollo, by the lady. He therefore resolved to marry her by proxy, and son of Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, a man of extraordinary cousent 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 happily possessed those graces which the husband of Francesca Paolo arrive, and imagined she beheld her sulure busband. wanted, engaged her affections; and being taken in adultery, That mistake was the commencement of her passion. The they were both put to death by the enraged Lanciotto. The friends of Guido addressed him in strong remonstrances, and interest of this pathetic narrative is much increased, when it is mournful predictions of the dangers to which be exposed a recollected that the father of this unfortunate lady was the daughter, whose high spirit would never brook lo he sacrificed beloved friend and generous protector of Dante during his laller with impunily. But Guido was no longer in a condition to make days. See anle, p. 373, and also Canto sxvii. of the Inferno, war; and the necessities of the politician overcame the feelings where Dante, speaking of Ravenna, saysof the father."

"l'aquila da Polenta la si cova In transmitting his version to Mr. Murray, Lord Byron says

Si che Cervia ricopre co' suoi vanni." -"Enclosed you will find, line for line, in third rhyme (terza

--" There Polenta's eagle broods, rima), of which your British blackguard reader as yet under

And in his broad circumference of plume stands nolbing, Fanny of Rimini. You know that she was born

O'ershadows Cervja."- Lary. here, and married, and slain, from Cary, Boyd, and such people. Guido was the son of Ostasio da Polenta, and made himself I have done it into cramp English, line for line, and rhyme for master of Ravenna in 1263. In 1322, he was deprived of his rhyme, lo try possibility. If it is published, publish it with the sovereignty, and died at Bologna in the year following. He is original."

enumerated, by Tiraboschi, among the poets of his lime.-E. In one of the poet's MS. Diaries we find the following passage: (2) Ravenna. -"January 29, 1831, past midnight-one of the clock. I have (3) Among Lord Byron's unpublished letters we find the folbeen reading Frederick Schlegel * till now, and I can make out lowing :-“Varied readings of the translation from Dante. Dothing. He evidently shows a great power of words, but there

Seized him for the fair person, which in its is nothing to be taken hold of. He is like Hazlitt in English,

Bloom was ta'en from me, yet the mode offends. 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

Seized him for the fair form, of which in its him the worse (tliat is Schlegel), because he always seems upon

Bloom I was rest, and yet the mode offends.

Lore, which to none beloved to love remits, the verge of meaning; and, lo! he goes down like sunset, or

with mutual wish to please melts like a rainbow, leaving a rather rich confusion. Of Dante,

Seized me with wist of pleasing bim so strong, he says, that at no time has the greatest and most national or

with the desire to please all Italian poets ever been much the favourite of bis country

That, as thou see'st, not yet that passion quits,' etc. men!' 'Tis false. There have been more editors and commen

You will find these readings vary from the MS. I sent you. They lalors (and imitators ultimately) of Danle, ihan of all their poets are closer, but rougher:take which is liked best; or, if you like. put logether. Not a favourite! Why, they lalk Danle-write print them as variations. They are all close to the text.” B. Danle--and think and dream Dante, at the moment (1821), to an Lellers.-E. excess which would be ridiculous, but that he deserves it. He

(4) From Cain, the first fratricide. By Caink we are 10 says also ibat Dante's chies desect is a want, in a word, of gentle understand ibat part of the Inferno 1o which murderers are

Lectures on the History of Lierature, Ancient and Modom. condemoed.


Fin ch' il poeta mi disse:“Che pense

e?Quando risposi cominciai: "Ahi lasso !

Quanti dolci pensier, quanto disio

Mend costoro al doloroso passo !” Poi mi rivolsi a loro, e parlai io,

E cominciai: “Francesca, i luoi martiri

A lagrimar mi fanno tristo e pio. Ma dimmi: al tempo de' dolci sospiri

A che, e come cencedette Amore

Che conosceste i dubbiosi desiri?”
Ed ella a me: “Nessun maggior dolore

Che ricordarsi del tempo felice

Nella miseria :(1) e cid 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 leccevamo un giorno per diletto

Di Lancillotlo, (3) come Amor lo strinse :

Soli eravamo, e senza alcun sospelto. Pev più fiate gli occhi ci sospinse

Quella lettura, e scolorocci il viso:

Ma solo un punto fu quel che ci vinse. Quando leggemmo il disiato riso

Esser baciato da cotanto amante,

Questi, che mai da me non tia diviso, La bocca mi bacio tutto tremante:

Galeollo fu il libro, e chi lo scrisse

Quel 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.

“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

Have made me sorrow till the tears arise.
But tell me, in the season of sweet sighs

By what and how thy love to passion rose,

So as his dim desires to recognise?”
Then she tome:“The greatest of all woes

Is to remind us of our happy days

In misery, and that thy teacher knows.
But if to learn our passion's first root preys

Upon thy spirit with such sympathy,

I will do even as he who weeps and says.
We read one day for pastime, seated nigh,

Of Lancilot, how love enchain'd him loo.

We were alone, quite unsuspiciously.
But ofl 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's 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 andof Rome

And get knock'd on the head for his labours. WRITTEN WHEN ABOUT TO JOIN THE ITALIAN

To do good to mankind is the chivalrous plan,

And is always as nobly requited;
When a man hath no freedom to fight for at home, Then battle for freedom wherever you can,

Let him combat for that of his neighbours; And, if not shot or hang'd, you 'll get knighted.

(1) “In omni adversitate fortunæ infelicissimum genus infor. hundred of Wirral.” See also Ellis's Specimens of early Rctunii est fuisse felicem.”- Boelius. Danle himself tells us that mances, vol. i. p. 271.-E. Boelius and Cicero de Amicitid were the two first books that (4, The story of Francesca and Paolo is a great favourite with engaged his attention.-E.

the Italians. It is noticed by all the historians of Ravenna. (2) In some of the editions it is • dirò,' in others 'faro;'-an Petrarch introduces il, ia bis Trionfo d'Amore, among his essential difference between 'saying' and doing,' which I know examples of calamitous passion ; and Tassoni, in his Secchia not how to decide. Ask Foscolo. The d--d editions drive me Rapita, represents Paolo Malatesta as leading the troops of

Rimini, and describes bim, when mounted on his charger, as mad." Lord B. to Mr. M.

contemplating a golden sword cbain, presented to him by (3) One of the Knights of Arthur's Round Table, and the lover Francesca :of Genevra, celebrated in romance. See Southey's King Ar- ~ Rimini vien con la bandiera sesta, thur, vol. i. p. 52. Whitaker, the historian of Manchester, Guida inille cavalli, e mille fanti... makes out for the knight both a local habitation and a name.

Halli donata al dipartir Francesca “The name of Lancelot,” he says, “is an appellation truly Bși

L'aurea catena, a cui la spada appende.

La va mirando il misero, e rinfresca
lish, and significative of royalty ; Lance being a Celtic term for Quel foco ognor, che l'anima gli accende,
a spear, and Leod, Lod, or Lot, importing a people. He was Quanto cerca fuggir, tanto s'invesca."
Therefore(!) a British sovereign; and since he is denominated " To him Francesca gave the golden chain
Lancelot of the Lake, perbaps (!) he resided at Coccium, in the At parting-lime, from which his sword was hung;
region Linnis, and was the monarch of Lancashire; as the

The wretched lover gazed at it with pain,
Adding new pangs to

ose his heart bad wrung: kings of Creones, living at Selma, on the forest of Morven, are

Tbe more he sought to fly the luscious bane, generally denominated sovereigns of Morven; or, more properly,

The firmer he was bound, the deeper stung." -E. was King of Cheshire, and resided at Pool-ion Lancelot, in the (5) "If honour should come unlooked for' to any of your acview of killing him." Letter to Murray. He then adds the following singular



This day, of all our days, has done

PRESENT AN ADDRESS TO QUEEN CAROLINE.(2) The worst for me and you:

The brasiers, it seems, are preparing to pass 'T is just six years since we were one,

An address, and present it themselves all in brass;And five since we were two.

A superfluous pageant-for, by the Lord Harry! January 2, 1821.

They 'll find where they ’re going much more than ON MY THIRTY-THIRD BIRTH-DAY."

they carry.(3) JANUARY 22, 1821.(1)

JOHN KEATS.4) TARough life's dull roari, so dim and dirty,

" Who kill'd John Keats ?” I have drage'd to three-and-thirty, What have these years left to me?

“T,” says the Quarterly,

So savage and Tartarly; Nothing-except thirty-three.

“'T was one of my feats.” MARTIAL, LIB. I. Epig. I.

" Who shot the arrow ?"
Hic est, quem legis, ille, quem requiris,

The poet-priest Milman
Tolo notus in orbe Martialis, etc.

(So ready to kill man), He unto wliom thou art so partial,

Or Southey or Barrow!”
Oh reader! is the well-known Martial,
The Epigrammatist : while living,

STANZAS WRITTEN ON THE ROAD BETWEEN Give him the fame thou wouldst be giving;

So shall he hear and feel, and know it-
Post-obits rarely reach a poet. ,

Oh, talk not to me of a name great in story;
The days of our youth are the days of our glory;

And the myrtle and ivy of sweet two-and-twenty

Are worth all your laurels, though ever so plenty. MR. HOBY the boot-maker's heart is quite sore, Forseeing the Queen makes him think ofJane Shore; What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is And, in fact

wrinkled ?

1820. 'T is but as a dead-flower with May-dew besprinkled: quaintance, make a melody of it, that his ghost, like poor Yorick's,

from whence there is no may have the satisfaction of being plaintively pitied-or still


for the Days-whatever there may be more nobly commemorated, like 'Oh breathe not his name.' in

for the Dustcase you should not think him worth it, here is a chant for you

the Thirty-Third Year instead." Letter to Moore, Ravenna, 1820.

of an ill-spent lise, (1) In Lord Byron's MS. Diary of the preceding day, we find

which, after the following entry:~" January 21,1821. Dined-visited-came

a lingering disease of many months,

sunk into a lethargy, home-read. Remarked on an anecdole in Grimm's Corres

and expired, pondence, which says, that · Regnard et la plupart des poèles

January 22d 1821, A. D. comiques étaient geos bilieux et mélancoliques; el que M. de

Leaving a Successor

Inconsolable Voltaire, qui est très gai, n'a jamais fait que des tragédies-et

for the very loss which que la comédie gaie est le seul genre où il n'ait point réussi.

occasioned its C'est que celui qui rit et celui qui fait rire sont deux hommes

Existence, lort différents !' Al this moment I feel as bilious as the best comic writer of them all (even as Regnard himself, the next to (2) “ Have you heard that the 'Brasiers' Company' have, or 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 and with all possible variety and splendour of brazen apparel ?” in spirits to continue my proposed tragedy. To-morrow is my Lord B to Mr. Moore, Ravenna, 1821.-E. birth-day-that is to say, at twelve o' the clock, midnight; i. e (3) “There is an epigram for you, is it not ?-worthy 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

of Wordsworth, the grand metaquizrical poet, lived so long, and to so little purpose.

A man of vast merit, though few people know it;

The persual of whom (as I told you at Mestri). is three minutes past twelve-—''Tis the middle of night by the I owe, in great part, lo my passion for pastry.castle clock,' and I am now thirty-three!

B. Letters, January 22, 1821.-E. • Ebeu, fugaces, Posthume, Posthume, Labuntur anni ;'

(4) "Are you aware that Shelley has written an Elegy on John but I don't regret them so much for wbat I have done, as for what Keats?"-entitled Adonais—"and accuses the Quarterly ReI might have done."

(5) "I composed these stanzas (except the fourth, added now) EPITAPH.

a few days ago, on the road from Florence to Pisa.” B. Diary,

Pisa, 6th Nov. 1821.-E.
Here lies

“I enclose you some lines written not long ago, which you interred in the eternity

may do what you like with, as they are very harmless. Only, il of the Past, copied, or pripled, or set, I could write it more correctly than

Then away with all such from the head that is hoary!
What care I for the wreaths that can only give

Ou FAME!(1)-if I e'er took delight in thy praises,
'Twas less for the sake of thy high-sounding phrases,
Than to see the bright eyes of the dear onc discover
She thought that I was not unworthy to love her.
There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee;
Her glance was the best of the rays that surround

[my story, When its spark led o'er aught that was bright in I knew it was love, and I felt it was glory.

For Orford (2) and for Waldegrave(3)
You give much more than me you gave;
Which is not fairly to behave,

My Murray.
Because if a live dog, 'l is said,
Be worth a lion fairly sped,
A live lord must be worth lwo dead,

My Murray.
And if, as the opinion goes,
Verse hath a better sale than prose-
Certes, I should have more than those,

My Murray.
But now this sheet is nearly cramm’d,
So, if you will, I shan't be sbamm’d;
And if you won't, you may lie damn'd,

My Murray.(4)


OH, Castlereagh! thou art a patriot now;
Cato died for his country, so didst thou :
He perish'd rather than see Rome enslaved,
Thou cull'st thy throat that Britain may be saved!

So Castlereagh has cut his throat !—The worst
Of this is,-that his own was not the first.

What matter the pangs of a husband and father,

If his sorrows in exile be great or be small,
So the pharisee's glories around her she gather,

And the saint patronises her“Charity Ball!” What matters !-a heart which, though faulty, was

feeling, Be driven to excesses which once could appalThat the sioner should suffer is only fair dealing,

As the saint keeps her charity back for “the ball!

So he has cut his throat at last!-He! Who?
The man who cut his country's long ago.


POSTERITY will ne'er survey

A nobler grave than this:
Here lie the bones of Castlereagh :

Stop, traveller, and

BEHOLD the blessings of a lucky lot,
My play (6) is damn’d, and Lady **** is not!

in the usual way in which one's nothings are monstered,'as have bad my share: it has, indeed, been leavened by other huCoriolanus says." Lord B. lo Mr. Moore, 1821.-E.

man contingencies; and this in a greater degree than has oc(1) “ As far as Fame goes (that is to say, living Fame), I have curred to most literary men of a decent rank in lise; but, on the had my share, perhaps-indeed, certainly-more than my deserts. whole, I take it that such equipoise is the condition of humanity," Some odd instances have occurred to my own experience of the B. Diary. wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate,and where

(2) Horace Walpole's Memoirs of the last Nine Years of the it may impress. Two years ago—(almost three, being in August, Reign of George 11.-E. or July, 1819)-I received at Ravenna a letter in English verse

(3) Memoirs by James Earl Waldegrave, Governor of 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. lation into Holstein, from a Mr. Jacobson, I thiok, of Hamburgh;

(4) “Can't accept your courteous offer. These matters must also (by the same medium) a translation of Medora's song in the

be arranged with Mr. Douglas Kinnaird. He is my trustee, and Corsair, by a Westphalian baroness (not. Thunderton-tronck'), a man of honour. To him you can stale all your mercantile with some original verses of hers (very pretty and Klopstockish, reasons, which you might not like to state to me personally, and a prose translation annexed lo them, on the subject of my

such as .heavy season'-flat public'-'don't go off'-lordship wise. As they concerned her more than me, I sent them to ber writes too much- won't take advice’-declining popularity

deduction for the trade'-'make very little'-generally lose with Mr Jacobson's letter. It was odd enough to receive an invitation to pass the summer in Holstein, while in Italy, from cisins, etc. with other bints and bowls for an oration, which !

by him'-'pirated edition '-'foreign edilion '-' severe critipeople I never knew. The letter was addressed to Venice. Mr. J. lalked to me of the wild roses growing in the Holstein sum

leave Douglas, who is an oralor, to answer."-Lord B. 10 Wr. What a strange thing is life and man! Were I to present myself stint me of my sizeings,' as Lear says, that is to say, not to mer:' why, then, did the Cimbri and the Teutones emigrale ? | Murray, Aug. 23, 1821.-E

“The argument of the above (stanzas) is that he wanted to al the door of the house where my daughter now is, the door would be shut in my face, unless (as is not impossible) I propose an extravagant price for an extravagani poem, as is knocked down the porter; and if i had gone in that year becoming.” Lord B. to Mr. Moore, Ravenna, 1821 –E. (and perhaps now) to Drontheim (the furthest in Norway) or

(5) These lines were wrillen on reading in the newspapers, into Holstein, I should have been received with open arms into that Lady Byron had been patroness of a ball in aid of some the mansions of strangers and foreigners-allached to me by charity at Hinckley.-E. no tie but that of mind and rumour. As far as Fame goes, I (6) Marino Faliero, which failed on the stage.-E.

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