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Of thee hereafter.-Ev'n amidst my strain
I turn'd aside to pay my homage here ;
Forgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spain ;
Her fate, to every freeborn bosoin dear;
And hail'd thee, not perchance without a tear.
Now to my themo--but from thy holy haunt
Let me some remnant, some memorial bear;
Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant,”
Nor let thy votary's hope bo deein'd an idlo vaunt.

Match me, ye climes! which poets love to laud;
Match me, ye harems of the land! where now'
I strike my strain, far distant, to applaud
Beauties that ev’u a cynic must avow;'
Match me thoso Houries, whom ye scarce allow
To taste the galo lest Love should ride the wind,
With Spain's dark-glancing daughters—deign to

Thope your wise Prophet's paradise we find,
His black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind.

Oh, thou Parnassus " whom I now survey,
Not in the phrensy of a dreamer's oye,
Xot in the fabled landscape of a lay,
But soaring snow-clad through thy native sky,
In the wild pomp of mountain majesty!
What marvel if I thus essay to sing?
The hublest of thy pilgrims passing by
Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string,
Though from thy brights no more one Muse will wave
her wing.

on havo I dream'd of Theo! whose glorious name
Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore :
And now I view thee, 'tis, alas! with shame
That I in feeblest accents must adore.
When I recount thy worshippers of yore
I tremble, and can only bend the knee;
Nor ruse iny voice, nor vainly dare to soar,

But gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy
lo slent joy to think at last I look on Theo !5

Happier in this than mightiest bards have been,
Whem fate to distant homes contined their lot,
Sal I unmoved behold the hallow'd scene,
Which others rave of, though they know it not ?
Though here no more Apollo haunts his grot,
Ard thou, the Muses' scut, art now their grave,
Somne gentle sjurit still pervades the spot,

Sighes in the gale, keeps silence in the cave,
And glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious wave.?

But ne'er didst thou, fair Mount! when Greece was

See round thy giant base a brighter choir,
Nor e'or did Delphi, when her priestess sung
The Pythian hymn with more than mortal fire,
Behold a train more fitting to inspire
The song of love than Andalusia's maids,
Nursed in the glowing lap of soft desire :

Ah! that to these were given such peaceful shades
As Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly her glades.

Fair is proud Seville ; let her country boast
Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days;
But Cadiz, rising on the distant coast,
Calls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise.
Ah, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways!
While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape
The fascination of thy magic gaze ?"

A Cherub-hydra round us dost thou gape,
And mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape.

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When Paphos fell by Time-accursed Time!
The Queen who conquers all must yield to thee-
The Pleasures Aled, but sought as warm a clime;
And Venus, constant to her native sea,
To naught else constant, hither deign’d to fleo;
And fix'd her shrine within these walls of white;
Though not to one dome circumscribeth she

Her worship, but, devoted to her rite,
A thousand altars rise, forever blazing bright."

* This stanza was written in Turkey.

robberies by Sylla, Nero, and Constantine, are inconsider1." Beauties that need not fear a broken vow."--MS.) able ; for the removal of the statues ot bronze, and marble, 11- Lon black hair, dark languishing eyes, clear olive

and ivory, could not greatly affect the general appearance

of the city. The acclivity of the hill, and the foundations cara rious, and forms mcre graceful in inotion than can be

being placed on rock, without cement, would no doubt renpuesved by an Englishnan, used to the drowsy, listless air

der them comparatively easy to be removed or hurled down o's countrywomen, added to the most becoming dress, l at the same time, the most decent in the world, render

into the vale below; but the vale exhibits no appearance of

accumulation of hewn stones, and the modern village ** 20.5 cauty irresistible."-B. to hus Mother, Aug. 1809.]

could have consumed but few. In the course of so many + Tirse stanzas were written in Castri, (Delphos,) at the

centuries, the debris from the mountain must have covered loc l'unha sus, now called Alakupu, (Liakura,) Dec. 1809. up a great deal, and even the rubbish itself may have ac

{Con Pamaskus, going to the fountain of Delphi, quired a soil sufficient to conceal many noble remains from 121,10 109, I saw a fight of twelve engles. (Hobhouse

the light of day. Yet we see no swellings or risings in the tar: ter were vultures-al least in conversation,) and I ground, indicating the graves of the temples. All therefore

de omen. On the day before, I composed the lines is mystery, and the Greeks may truly say, ' Where stood P210114, (in Childe Harold,) and on beholding the the walls of our fathers? scarce the mossy tombs remain!'”

02 a bopp that Apollo had accepted my homage. I --H. W Williams's Travels in Greece, vol. 11. p. 254.] 21+ $t bad the name and fame of a poet, during the (" And walks with glassy steps o'er Aganippe's wave." "**rx! eriod of use, (from twenty to thirty :) -- whether it -MS.) 21**f another maiter : but I have been a votary of the

* ["Some glorious thought to my petition grant.”—MS.) the pince, and am grateful for what he has done 25f, leaving the future in his hands, as I left the

Seville was the Hispalis of the Romans. - E. Drary, 1821.)

10 [“ The lurking lures of thy enchanting gaze.”—MS.) *Cash the eye over the site of ancient Delphi, one 11 [" Cadiz, sweet Cadiz!-it is the first spot in the crea. ***Sibir imagine what has become of the walls of tion. The beauty of its streets and mansions is only ex

us bulunan wirich are mentioned in the history celled by the liveliness of its inhabitants. It is a complete angnih encer-bublings which covered two Cythera, of the finest wou in Spain; the Cadiz

With the exception of the few terraces belles being the Lancashire witches of their land."--Lord B. cenatting walls, nothing now appears. The various to his Mother, 1809.)

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From morn till night, from night till startled Morn The lists are oped, the spacious area clear'd,
Peeps blushing on the revel's laughing crew,

Thousands on thousands piled are seated round; The song is heard, the rosy garland worn ;

Long ere the first loud trumpet's note is heard, Devices quaint, and frolics ever new,

Ne vacant space for lated wight is found : Tread on each other's kibes. A long adieu

Here dons, grandees, but chiefly dames abound, He bids to sober joy that here sojourns:

Skill'd in the ogle of a roguish eye, Naught interrupts the riot, though in lieu

Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound; Of true devotion monkish incense burns,

None through their cold disdain are doom'd to die, And love and prayer unite, or rule the hour by turns. As moon-struck bards complain, by Love's sad archery. LXVIII.

LXXIII. The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest;

Hush'd is the din of tongues-on gallant steeds, What hallows it upon this Christian shore ?

With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-poised Lo! it is sacred to a solemn feast :

Four cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds, įlance, Hark! heard you not the forest-monarch's roar ? And lowly bending to the lists advance; Crashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting gore Rich are their scarfs, their chargers featly prance : Of man and steed, o'erthrown beneath his horn; If in the dangerous game they shine to-day, The throng'd arena shakes with shouts for more;

The crowd's loud shout and ladies' lovely glance, Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly torn,

Best prize of better acts, they bear away, Nor shrinks the female eye, nor ev'n affects to mourn.

And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay. LXIX.

LXXIV. The seventh day this; the jubilee of man.

In costly sheen ond gaudy cloak array'd, London ! right well thou know'st the day of prayer: But all afoot, the light-limb’a Matadore Then thy spruce citizen, wash'd artisan,

Stands in the centre, eager to invado And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air:

The lord of lowing herds; but not before Thy coach of hackney, whiskey, one-horse chair, The ground, with cautious tread, is traversed o'er, And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl ; Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed: To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow, make repair ; His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl,

Can man achieve without the friendly steed Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian churl." Alas! too oft condemn'd for him to bear and bleed. LXX.

LXXV. Some o'er thy Thamis row the ribbond fair,

Thrice sounds the clarion ; lo! the signal falls, Others along the safer turnpike fly ;

The den expands, and Expectation mute Some Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to Ware, Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls. And many to the steep of Highgate hie.

Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute, Ask ye, Baotian shades! the reason why ?'

And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot, "Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn,

The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe : Grasp'd in the holy hand of Mystery,

Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit
In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, His first attack, wide waving to and fro
And consecrate the oath' with draught, and dance till His angry tail; red rolls his eye's dilated glow.


Sudden he stops ; his eye is fix’d: away,
All have their fooleries—not alike are thine,

Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear: Fair Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea !

Now is thy time, to perish, or display Soon as the matin bell proclaimeth nine,

The skill that yet may check his mad career, Thy saint adorers count the rosary:

With well-timed croupe the nimble coursers veer; Much is the Virgin teased to shrive them free On foams the bull, but not unscath'd he goes; (Well do I ween the only virgin there)

Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear: From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be ; He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes;

Then to the crowded circus forth they fare : Dart follows dart; lance, lance; loud bellowings speak Young, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share.

his woes.

monkish temples share

6 ["In thus mixing up the light with the solemn, it was The hours misspent, and all in turns is love and prayer." the intention of the poet to imitate Ariosto. But it is far MS.)

easier to rise, with grace, from the level of a strain gener* (** And droughty then alights, and roars for Roman ally familiar, into an occasional short burst of pathos or purl."- MS.)

splendor, than to interrupt thus a prolonged tone of solen. 3 This was written at Thebes, and consequently in the nity by any descent into the ludicrous or burlesque. In the best situation for asking and answering such a question; former case, the transition may have the effect of softening not as the birthplace of Pindar, but as the capital of Bæotia, or elevating; while, in the latter, it almost invariably where the first riddle was propounded and solved.

shocks ;-for the same reason, perhaps, that a trait of pathos *[Lord Byron alludes to a ridiculous custom which for or high feeling, in comedy, has a peculiar charm; while merly prevailed at the public-houses in Highgate, of ad the intrusion of comic scenes into tragedy, however sancministering a burlesque oath to all travellers of the mid tioned among us by habit and authority, rarely fails to ofdling rank who stopped there. The party was sworn on a fend. The poet was himself convinced of the failure of the pair of horns, fastened, "never to kiss the maid when he experiment, and in none of the succeeding cantos of Childe could the inistress ; never to eat brown bread when he Harold repeated it.”-MOORE.) could get white ; never to drink small beer when he could 6 ["The croupe is a particular leap taught in the maget strong," with many other injunctions of the like kind,- nège.”-MS.) to all which was added the saving clause,-" unless you like it best.")

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LXXXII. Again he comes; nor dart nor lance avail,

Oh! many a time, and oft, had Harold loved, Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse ;

Or dream'd he loved, since rapture is a dream; Though man and man's avenging arms assail,

But now his wayward bosom was unmoved, Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force.

For not yet had he drunk of Lethe's stream; One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse; And lately had he learn'd with truth to deem Another, hideous sight! unseam'd appears,

Love has no gift so grateful as his wings: Hs gory chest unveils life's panting source ;

How fair, how young, how soft soo'er he seem, Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears; Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs* Saggering, but stemming all, his lord unharm'd he Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. bears.


Yet to the beauteous form he was not blind, Fuld, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last, Though now it moved him as it moves the wise; Fall in the centre stands the bull at bay,

Not that Philosophy on such a mind Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast, E'er deign'd to bend her chastely-awful eyes: And foes disabled in the brutal fray:

But Passion raves itself to rest, or flies; And now the Matadores around him play,

And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb, Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand : Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise : Oace more through all he bursts his thundering way Pleasure's pall'd victim! life-abhorring gloom

Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand, Wrote on his faded brow cursed Cain's unresting doom.
Wraps his fierce eye'tis past—he sinks upon the sand !!


Still he beheld, nor mingled with the throng ; Where his vast neck just mingles with the spino,

But view'd them not with misanthropic hate : Sheath'd in his form the deadly weapon lies.

Fain would he now have join'd the dance, the song ; He stops-he starts—disdaining to decline:

But who may smile that sinks beneath his fate? Slowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries,

Naught that he saw his sadness could abate : Without a groan, without a struggle dies.

Yet once he struggled 'gainst the demon's sway, The decorated car appears-on high

And as in Beauty's bower he pensive sate, The corse is piled_sweet sight for vulgar eyes?

Pourd forth this unpremeditated lay, Fonr steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy,

To charms as fuir as those that sooth'd his happier day. Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by. LXXX.

TO INEZ . Such the ungentle sport that oft invites

1. The Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain. Nurtured in blood betimes, his heart delights

Nay, smile not at my sullen brow; In vengeance, gloating on another's pain.

Alas! I cannot smile again : What private feuds the troubled village stain !

Yet Heaven avert that ever thou Though now one phalanx'd host should meet the foe,

Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain. Ecough, alas! in bumble homes remain,

2. To meditate 'gainst friends the secret blow,

And dost thou ask, what secret wo For some slight cause of wrath, whence life's warm I bear, corroding joy and youth ? stream must flow."

And wilt thou vainly seek to know

A pang, e'en thou must fail to sooth ?

Bat Jealousy has fled: his bars, his bolts,
His witherd sentinel, Duenna sage!

It is not love, it is not hate,

Nor low Ambition's honors lost,
And all whereat the generous soul revolts,
Which the stern dotard deem'd he could encage,

That bids me loathe my present state,
Have pass'd to darkness with the vanish'd age.

And fly from all I prized the most : Who late so free as Spanish girls were seen,

4. (Fre War uprose in his volcanic rage,)

It is that weariness which springs With braided tresses bounding o'er the green,

From all I meet, or hear, or see: While on the gay dance shone Night's lover-loving To me no pleasure Beauty brings; Queen?

Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me.

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The reader will do well to compare Lord Byron's animated picture of the popular "sport" of the Spanish nation, wth the very circumstantial details contained in the charm 112 - Letters of Don Leucadio Doblado," (e. e. the Rev. Banco White,) pablished in 1822. So inveterate was, at ore time, the rage of the people for this amusement, ihat men toys mimicked its features in their play. In the saughter-house itself the professionel bull-tighter gave pole lessons, and such was the force of depraved custom, itat laries of the highest rank were not ashamed to appear andst the filth and horror of the shambles. The Spaniards rece sei thus sport from the Moors, among whom it was Celebrated with great pomp and splendor.-See various Notes to Mr. Lockhart's Collection of Ancient Spanish Ballads. 1892.)

a (" The trophy corse is rear'd-disgusting prizo"

Or, “ The corse is rear'd-sparkling the chariot flies."- MS.)

3 [" The Spaniards are as revengeful as ever. At Santa Otella I heard a young peasant threaten to stab a woman, (an old one to be sure, which mitigates the offence,) and was told, on expressing soine small surprise, that this ethuc was by no means uncommon."- MS.)

Medio de fonte leporum,
Surgit amari aliquid quod in ipsis floribus angat."-

${"* Some bitter bubbles up, and e'en on roses stings."-


5. It is that settled, ceaseless gloom

The fabled Hebrew wanderer bore; That will not look beyond the tomb, But cannot hope for rest before.

What Exile from himself can flee?'

To zones, though more and more remoto,
Still, still pursues, where'er I be,
The blight of life—the demon Thought.?

Yet others rapt in pleasure seem,

And taste of all that I forsake;
Oh! may they still of transport dream,
And ne'er, at least like me, awake!

Through many a clime 'tis mine to go,

With many a retrospection cursed;
And all my solace is to know,
Whate'er betides, I've known the worst.

What is that worst? Nay do not ask-

In pity from the search forbear: Smile on--nor venture to unmask Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there."

LXXXV. Adicu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu ! Who may forget how well thy walls have stood ?

When all were changing thou alone wert true,
First to be free and last to be subdued :
And if amidst a scene, a shock so rude,
Some native blood was seen thy streets to dye ;
A traitor only fell beneath the feud :*

Here all were noble, save Nobility :
None hugg'd a conqueror's chain, save fallen Chivalry!

LXXXVI. Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her fate! They fight for freedom who were never free; A Kingless people for a nerveless state, Her vassals combat when their chieftains flee, True to the veriest slaves of Treachery ; Fond of a land which gave them naught but life, Pride points the path that leads to liberty;

Back to the struggle, baffled in the strife, War, war is still the cry, “ War even to the knife !''5

LXXXVII. Yo, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know, Go, read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strise: Whate'or keen Vengeance urged on foreign foo Can act, is acting there against man's life: From flashing cimeter to secret knife, War mouldeth there each weapon to his needSo may he guard the sister and the wife,

So may he make each cursed oppressor bleed, So may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed !!


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(" What Exile from himself can fee?

To other zones, howe'er remote,
Still, still pursuing clings to me

The blight of life-the demon Thought.”—MS.) ? ("Written January 25, 1810."'--MS.)

9 In place of this song, which was written at Athens, January 25, 1810, and which contains, as Moore says, “ some of the dreariest touches of sadness that ever Byron's pen let fall,” we find, in the first draught of the Cantó, the following:

Oh never talk again to me

Of northern clines and British ladies;
It has not been your lot to see,

Like me, the lovely girl of Cadiz.
Alihough her eye be not of blue,

Nor fair her lucks, like English lasses,
How far its own expressive hue
The languid azure eye surpasses !

Prometheus-like, from heaven she stole

The fire, that through those silken lashes
In darkest glances seems to roll,

From eyes that cannot hide their flashes :
And as along her bosom steal

In lengthen't flow her raven tresses,
You'd swear each clustering lock could feel,
And curl'd io give her neck caresses.

Our English maids are long to woo,

And frigid even in possession ;
And if their charms be fair to view,

Their lips are slow at Love's confession:
But, born beneath a brighter sun,

For love ordain'd the Spanish maid is,
And who, when fondly, fairly won.

Enchants you like the Girl of Cadiz !
The Spanish maid is no coquette,

Norjoys to see a lover tremble,
And if she love, or if she hate,

Alike she knows not to dissemble,
Her heart can ne'cr be bought or sold-

Howe'er it beats, it beats sincerely;
And, though it will not bend to gold,
'Twill love you long and love you dearly.

The Spanish girl that meets your love

Ne'er taunts you with a mock denial,
For every thought is bent to prove

Her passion in the hour of irial.
When ihronging foemen menace Spain,

She dares the deed and shares the danger;

And should her lover press the plain,
She hurls the spear, her love's avenger.

And when, beneath the evening star,

She mingles in the gay Bolero,
Or sings to her attuned guitar

of Christian knight or Moorish hero,
Or counts her beads with fairy hand

Beneath the twinkling rays of Hesper,
Or joins devotion's choral band,
To chant the sweet and hallow'd vesper ;-

In each her charms the heart must move

Of all who venture to behold her ;
Then let not maids less fair reprove

Because her bosom is not colder:
Through many a clime 'tis ipme to roam

Where many a soft and melting maid is,
But none abroad, and few at home,

May match the dark-eyed Girl of Cadiz. 4 Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the governor of Cadiz, in May, 1809.

5“ War to the knife.” Palafox's answer to the French general at the siege of Saragoza. (In his proclamation, also, he stated, that, should the French commit any robberies, de vastations, and murders, no quarter should be given them. The dogs by whom he was beset, he said, scarcely left him tune to clean his sword from their blood, but they sull found their grave at Saragoza. All his addresses were in the same spirit. “ His language,” says Mr. Southey, "had ihe high tone, and something of the inflation of Spanish romance, suiting the character of those to whoin it was directeu.” See Thistory of the Peninsular War, vol. 111. p. 132.}

6 The Canto, in the original MS., closes with the following stanzas :Ye, who would more of Spain and Spaniards know, Sights, Saints, Antiques, Arts, Anecdotes, and War, Go! hie ye hence to Paternoster RowAre they not written in the Book of Carr.* Green Érin's Knight and Europe's wandering star! Then listen, Readers, to the Man of Ink, Hear what he did, and sought, and wrote afar ;

All these are coop'd within one Quarto's brink, This borrow, steal,- don't buy, -and tell us what you think.

* Porphyry said, that the prophecies of Daniel were written after their completion, and such may be my fate here ; but it requires no second sight to foreiell a tome ; the first glimpse of the knight was enough. [In a letter written from Gibraltar, Augusto, 1809, to his friend llodson, Lord Byron says-" I have seen Sir John Carr at Seville and Ca. diz; and, like Swift's barber, have been down on my knees to beg he would not put ine into black and white."]

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XCI. Flows there a tear of pity for the dead?

And thou, my friend !!—since unavailing wo Look o'er the ravage of the rocking plain ;

Bursts from my heart, and mingles with the strainLook on the hands with female slaughter red; Had the sword laid thee with the mighty low, Then to the dogs resign the unburied slain,

Pride might forbid, e'en Friendship to complain : Then to the vulture let each corse remain ;

But thus unlaurell'd to descend in vain,
Albeit unworthy of the prey-bird's maw, (stain, By all forgotten, save the lovely breast,
Let their bleach'd bones, and blood's unbleaching And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain,

Long mark the battle-field with hideous awe: While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest ! Thus only may our sons conceive the scenes we saw! What hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest?

Nor yet, alas! the dreadful work is done ;
Fresh legious pour adown the Pyrenees :
It deepens still, the work is scarco begun,
Nor mortal eyo the distant end foresees.
Fall'n nations gazo on Spain; f freed, she frees
More than her fell Pizarros once enchain'd:
Strange retribution! now Columbia's case

Repains the wrongs that Quito's sous sustain’d,
Whio o'or the parent clime prowls Murder unre-

strain d.


Oh, known the earliest, and esteem'd the most !"
Dear to a heart where naught was left so dear!
Though to my hopeless days forever lost,
In dreams deny me not to see thee here !
And Morn in secret shall renew the tear
of Consciousness awaking to her woes,
And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier,

Till my frail frame return to whence it rose,
And mouru'd and mourner lie united in repose.

Vor all the blood at Talavera shed,
Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight,
Not Albuera lavish of the dead,
llave won for Spain her well-asserted right.
When shall her Olivo-Branch be free from blight?
When shall she breathe her from the blushing toil ?
How many a doubtful day shall sink in night,

Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil,
And Freedom's stranger-treo grow native of the soil !

Here is one fytte of Harold's pilgrimage :
Ye who of him may further seek to know,
Shall find some tidings in a future page,
If he that rhymeth now may seribble moe.
Is this too much ? stern Critic! say not so:
Patience! and ye shall hear what he beheld
In other lands, where he was doom'd to go:

Lands that contain the monuments of Eld,
Ere Greece and Grecian arts by barbarous hands

were quell’d.


There may you read, with spectacles on eyes,

his fame on the spot where it was acquired ; while his softer How many Wellesleys did embark for Spain,

qualities live in the recollection of friends who loved hiin At therein they meant to colonize,

too well to envy his superiority:-(This and the following How many troops y-cross'd the laughing main

stanza were added m August, 1811. In one of his schoolThal ne bebeld ihe siud return aguin:

boy poems, entitled “ Childish Recollections,” Lord Byron Hus many buildings are in such a placo,

has ihus drawn the portrait of young Wingfield :-How many leagues from this to yonder plain,

“ Alonzo! best and dearest of my friends, How many relies each cathedral grace,

Thy name ennobles him who thus commends : And where Giralda stands on her gigantic base.

From this fond tribute thou canst gan no praise ; There may you read (Oh, Phabus, save Sir John!

The praise is his who now that tribute pays. That these inny words prophetic may not err)

Oh! in the promise of thy early youth, Ali that was said. or sung, or lost, or won,

If hope anticipates the words of truth, Br rauning Wellesley or by blundering Frere,

Some loftier bard shall sing thy glorious name, Ile that wrote hall the" Needy Knife-Grinder."*

To build his own upon thy deathless fame. The porey the way to grandeur paves

Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list Wlo would not such diplomatists prefer?.

Of those with whom I lived supremely blest, Dal pits, my Muse, thy speed some respite craves,

Oft have we drain'd the fount of ancient lore, Léare legales to their house, and armies to their graves.

Though drinking deeply, thirsting still for more ;

Yet when confinement's lingering hour was done, Tet bere of Volpes mention may be made,

Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one. Who for the Junta modellid sapient laws,

In every element, unchanged, the same, Iaurtit them to poveru ere they were obey'd :

All, all that brothers should be, but the name." C, dit teacher to cominand, because He sul Socratic no Xantippe awes;

Matthews, the idol of Lord Byron at college, was drowned, But with a dame in Virtue's bosom nursed,

while bathing in the Cam, on the 2d of August. The follower let Silent ndmiration pause!

ing passage of a leiter from Newstead to his friend Scrope TT to her second husband and her first :

Davies, written immediately after the event, bears the imOsort unslaken laine let Satire do its worst.

press of strong and even agonized feelings :-"My dearest

Davies ; some curse hangs over me and mine. My mother The lonorable John Wingfield, of the Guards, who lies a corpse in the house ; one of my best friends is drowned * = festrat Coubra, (Mav 14, 1811.) I had known him in a ditch. What can I say, or think, or du? I received a letter ** ears, the brite's ball of us life, and the happiest part of from him the day before yesterday. My dear Scrope, if you i11. Lo the short space of one month, I have lost her who can spare a moment, do come down to me.I wani a friend. Dere me being, and most of those who had made that being Matthews's last letter was written on Friday,-on Saturday ataule. To me the lines of Young are no fiction :

he was not. In ability, who was like Matthews? How did - lamtite archer! could not one suffice ?

we all shrink before him! You do me but justice in saying I Tu Jaaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain,

would have risked my paltry existence to have preserved his, three ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn."

This very evening did I mean to write, inviting him, as I

invite you, my very dear friend, to visit me. What will our I held bare ventured a verse to the memory of the late

poor Hobhouse feel? His letters breathe but of Mathews. Care Skinner Halthews, Fellow of Downing College, Come to me, Scrope, I am almost desolate-left alınost

...nite, were her not too much above all praise of mine. alone in the world!"- Matthews was the son of John Mat1 11.-r of mind, shown in the attainment of greater hon

thews, Esq., (the representative of Herefordshire, in the r. Bu the ablemi cindidates, than those of any gradu

parliament of 1802-6,) and brother of the author of "The record at Cambridge, have sufficiently established

Diary of an Invalid," also untimely snatched away ** P**oede knife-onder," in the Anti-jacobin, was

? ["Beloved the most."--MS.) production of Messrs. Frere and Canning.)

3 [“ Dec. 30th, 1809."--MS.)

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