Or farther with thee bear my soul "Such is my name, and such my tale. Confessor to thy secret ear I breathe the sorrows I bewail, And thank thee for the generous tear Or stay the passing pilgrim's tread.” (1) (1) The circumstance to which the above story relates was not very uncommon in Turkey. A few years ago the wife of Muchtar Pacha complained to his father of his son's supposed infidelity; he asked with whom, and she had the barbarity to give in a list of the twelve handsomest women in Yanina. They were seized, fastened up in sacks, and drowned in the lake the same night! One of the guards who was present, informed me, that not one of the victims uttered a cry, or showed a symptom of terror at so sudden a "wrench from all we know, from all we love." The fate of Phrosine, the fairest of this sacrifice, is the subject of many a Romaic and Arnaout ditty. The story in the text is one told of a young Venetian many years ago, and now nearly forgotten. I heard it by acci. dent recited by one of the coffee-house story-tellers who abound in the Levant, and sing or recite their narratives. The additions and interpolations by the translator will be easily distinguished from the rest, by the want of Eastern imagery; and I regret that my memory has retained so few fragments of the original. For the contents of some of the notes I am indebted partly to D'Herbelot, and partly to that most Eastern, and, as Mr. Weber justly entitles it," sublime tale," the "Caliph Vathek." I do not know from what source the author of that singular volume may have drawn his materials; some of his incidents are to be found in the "Bibliothèque Orientale;" but for correctness of costume, beauty of description, and power of imagination, it far surpasses all European imitations; and bears such marks of originality, that those who have visited the East will find some difficulty in believing it to be more than a trans He pass'd -nor of his name and race Save what the father must not say lation. As an Eastern tale, even Rasselas must bow before it; his "Happy Valley "will not bear a comparison with the " Hall of Eblis. ' (1) [In this poem, which was published after the two first cantos of "Childe Harold," Lord Byron began to show his powers. He had now received encouragement which set free his daring hands, and gave his strokes their natural force. Here, then, we first find passages of a tone peculiar to Lord Byron; but still this appearance was not uniform: he often returned to his trammels, and reminds us of the manner of some favourite predecessor; among these, I think we sometimes catch the notes of Sir Walter Scott. But the internal tempest-the deep passion, sometimes buried, and sometimes blazing from some incidental touch- the intensity of agonising reflection, which will always distinguish Lord Byron from other writers- now began to display themselves. SIR EGERTON BRYDGES.] THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS, A TURKISH TALE. (1) "Had we never loved so kindly, Had we never loved so blindly, Never met or never parted, We had ne'er been broken-hearted." BURNS. (1) [The "Bride of Abydos" was published in the beginning of December, 1813. The mood of mind in which it was struck off' is thus stated by Lord Byron, in a letter to Mr. Gifford :-"You have been good enough to look at a thing of mine in MS.—a Turkish story- and 1 should feel gratified if you would do it the same favour in its probationary state of printing. It was written, I cannot say for amusement, nor obliged by hunger and request of friends,' but in a state of mind, from circumstances which occasionally occur to us youth,' that rendered it necessary for me to apply my mind to something, any thing, but reality; and under this not very brilliant inspiration it was composed. Send it either to the flames, or 'A hundred hawkers' load, On wings of winds to fly or fall abroad.' It deserves no better than the first, as the work of a week, and scribbled 'stans pede in uno' (by the bye, the only foot I have to stand on); and I promise never to trouble you again under forty cantos, and a voyage between each." -E] |