She had resolved that he should travel through
All European climes, by land or sea,
To mend his former morals, and get new,
Especially in France and Italy,

(At least this is the thing most people do.)
Julia was sent into a convent: she
Grieved, but, perhaps, her feelings may be better
Shown in the following copy of her Letter:-
CXCII.

"They tell me 't is decided you depart:

'Tis wise't is well, but not the less a pain ; I have no further claim on your young heart, Mine is the victim, and would be again:

I had not lived till now, could sorrow kill;
Death shuns the wretch who fain the blow would
And I must even survive this last adieu,
And bear with life, to love and pray for you!"

and of the torrent of rattling and audacious eloquence with which she repels the too just suspicions of her jealous lord. All this is merely comic, and a little coarse-but then the poet chooses to make this shameless and abandoned woman address to her young gallant an epistle breathing the very spirit of warm, devoted, pure, and unalterable love-thus profaning the holiest language of the heart, and indirectly associating it with the most hateful and degrading sensualism. Thus are our notions of right and wrong at once confounded - our confidence in virtue shaken to the foundation- and our reliance on truth and fidelity at an end for ever. Of this it is that we complain. - JEFFREY.]

fatal now

7 [Or," That word is lost for me -but let it go."-MS.] deadly

8 ["I struggle, but can not collect my mind."-MS.]

9 ["As turns the needle trembling to the pole

It ne'er can reach - so turns to you my soul."- MS.]

CANTO L

CXCVIII.

This note was written upon gilt-edged paper

With a neat little crow-quill, slight and new ;1 Her small white hand could hardly reach the taper, It trembled as magnetic needles do,

And yet she did not let one tear escape her;

The seal a sun-flower; "Elle vous suit partout," 2 The motto cut upon a white cornelian; The wax was superfine, its hue vermilion.

CXCIX.

This was Don Juan's earliest scrape; but whether I shall proceed with his adventures is Dependent on the public altogether;

We'll see, however, what they say to this. Their favour in an author's cap's a feather,

And no great mischief's done by their caprice; And if their approbation we experience, Perhaps they'll have some more about a year hence. CC.

My poem's epic, and is meant to be

Divided in twelve books; each book containing, With love, and war, a heavy gale at sea, 3

A list of ships, and captains, and kings reigning, New characters; the episodes are three: 4

A panoramic view of hell's in training,
After the style of Virgil and of Homer,
So that my name of Epic's no misnomer. 5

CCI.

All these things will be specified in time,
With strict regard to Aristotle's rules,
The Vade Mecum of the true sublime,

Which makes so many poets, and some fools:
Prose poets like blank-verse, I'm fond of rhyme,
Good workmen never quarrel with their tools;
I've got new mythological machinery,
And very handsome supernatural scenery. 6

1["With a neat crow-quill, rather hard, but new."-MS.] 2 [Lord Byron had himself a seal bearing this motto.] 3["For your tempest, take Eurus, Zephyr, Auster, and Boreas, and cast them together in one verse: add to these, of rain, lightning and thunder (the loudest you can), quantum sufficit. Mix your clouds and billows well together till they foam, and thicken your description here and there with a quicksand. Brew your tempest well in your head, before you set it a blowing. For a battle: pick a large quantity of images and descriptions from Homer's Iliad, with a spice or two of Virgil, and if there remain any overplus, you may lay them by for a skirmish. Season it well with similes, and it will make an excellent battle."-SWIFT: Recipe for an Epic.]

["And there are other incidents remaining
Which shall be specified in fitting time,

With good discretion, and in current rhyme."-MS.] 5 [Lord Byron can scarcely be said to have written an epic poem, if the definition of the Dictionnaire de Trévoux be right:-"EPIQUE, qui appartient à la poésie héroique, ou poème qui décrit quelque action, signalée d'un héros. Le poème épique est un discours inventé avec art pour former les mœurs par des instructions déguisées sous les allégories d'une action importante, racontée d'une manière vraisemblable et merveilleuse. La différence qu'il y a entre le poème épique et la tragédie, c'est que dans le poème épique les personnes n'y sont point introduites aux yeux des spectateurs agissant par elles-memes, comme dans la tragédie; mais l'action est racontée par le poète."-BRYDGES.]

6 [For your machinery, take of deities, male and female, as many as you can use; separate them into two equal parts, and keep Jupiter in the middle; let Juno put him in a ferment, and Venus mollify him. Remember on all occasions to make use of volatile Mercury. If you have need of devils, draw them out of Milton's Paradise, and extract your spirits from Tasso. The use of these machines is evident; and, since no epic poem can subsist without them, the wisest way is to reserve them for your greatest necessities.- SWIFT.]

CCII.

There's only one slight difference between Me and my epic brethren gone before, And here the advantage is my own, I ween; (Not that I have not several merits more, But this will more peculiarly be seen);

They so embellish, that 't is quite a bore Their labyrinth of fables to thread through, Whereas this story's actually true.

CCIII.

If any person doubt it, I appeal

To history, tradition, and to facts, To newspapers, whose truth all know and feel, To plays in five, and operas in three acts;7 All these confirm my statement a good deal, But that which more completely faith exacts Is, that myself, and several now in Seville, Saw Juan's last elopement with the devil. CCIV.

If ever I should condescend to prose,

I'll write poetical commandments, which Shall supersede beyond all doubt all those That went before; in these I shall enrich My text with many things that no one knows, And carry precept to the highest pitch: I'll call the work" Longinus o'er a Bottle, Or, Every Poet his own Aristotle."

CCV.

8

Thou shalt believe in Milton, Dryden, Pope;
Thou shalt not set up Wordsworth, Coleridge,
Southey;

Because the first is crazed beyond all hope,

The second drunk, the third so quaint and mouthy:9 With Crabbe it may be difficult to cope,

And Campbell's Hippocrene is somewhat droathy: Thou shalt not steal from Samuel Rogers, nor Commit-flirtation with the muse of Moore.

7 ["To newspapers, to sermons, which the zeal Of pious men have published on his acts."-MS]

8 ["I'll call the work Reflections o'er a Bottle.""-MS.] 9 ["There are the Lakers, my lord; ay, the whole school of Glaramara and Skiddaw and Dunmailraise, who have the vanity to be in the habit of undervaluing your poetical talents. Mr. Southey thinks you would never have thought of going over the sea had it not been for his Thalaba; Mr. Werdsworth is humbly of opinion that no man in the world ever thought a tree beautiful, or a mountain grand, till he asnounced his own wonderful perceptions. Mr. Charles Lamb thinks you would never have written Beppo had he not joked, nor Lara had he not sighed. Mr. Lloyd half suspects your lordship has read his Nuge Canoræ: now all these fancie are alike ridiculous, and you are well entitled to laugh as much as you please at them. But there is one Laker who praises your lordship, and why? Because your lordship praised him. This is Coleridge, who, on the strength of a little compliment in one of your notes, [see antè, p. 126.] vebtured at last to open to the gaze of the day the long secluded loveliness of Christabel,- and with what effect his bookseller doth know. Poor Coleridge, however, although his pamphlet would not sell, still gloated over the puff, and he gave your lordship, in return, a great many reasonable good puffs in prose. You may do very well to quiz Words worth for his vanity, and Southey for his pompousness; but what right have you to say anything about Mr. Coleridge's drinking? Really, my lord, I have no scruple in saying, that I look upon that line of yours- Coleridge is drunk,' &c. quite personal-shamefully personal. As Coleridge never saw Don Juan, or, if he did, forgot the whole affair next morning, it is nothing as regards him; but what can be expected from his friends? Has not any one of them (if he has any) a perfect right, after reading that line, to print and pub lish, if he pleases, all that all the world has heard about your lordship's own life and conversation? And if any one of them should do so, what would you, my Lord Byron, think of it?" JOHN BULL.]