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Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
Where panting Nature droops the head,

Where only thou art seen to smile,
I view my parting hour with dread.

Though far from Albin's craggy shore, Divided by the dark blue main ;

A few, brief, rolling, seasons o'er, Perchance I view her cliffs again:

But wheresoe'er I now may roam,
Through scorching clime, and varied sea,

Though Time restore me to my home,
I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee:

On thee, in whom at once conspire
All charms which heedless hearts can move,

Whom but to see is to admire,
And, oh forgive the word—to love.

Forgive the word, in one who ne'er With such a word can more offend ;

And since thy heart I cannot share, Believe me, what I am, thy friend.

And who so cold as look on thee, Thou lovely wand'rer, and be less 2

Nor be, what man should ever be, The friend of Beauty in distress 2

Ah! who would think that form had past Through Danger's most destructive path,

Had braved the death-wing'd tempest's blast, And 'scaped a tyrant's fiercer wrath 2

Lady when I shall view the walls
Where free Byzantium once arose,

And Stamboul's Oriental halls
The Turkish tyrants now enclose ;

Though mightiest in the lists of fame,
That glorious city still shall be ;

On me 'twill hold a dearer claim,
As spot of thy nativity:

And though I bid thee now farewell,
When I behold that wondrous scene,
Since where thou art I may not dwell,
'T will soothe to be, where thou hast been.
September, 1809.


Chill and mirk is the nightly blast, Where Pindus' mountains rise,

And angry clouds are pouring fast The vengeance of the skies.

She was born at Constantinople, where her father, Baron Herbert, was Austrian ambassador; married unhappily, yet has never been impeached in point of character; excited the vengeance of Buonaparte, by taking a part in some conspiracy; several times risked her life; and is not yet five and twenty. She is here on her way to England to join her husband, being obliged to leave Trieste, where she was paying a visit to her mother, by the approach of the French, and embarks soon in a ship of war. Since my arrival here I have had scarcely any other companion. I have found her very pretty, very accomplished, and extremely eccentric. Buona. parte is even now so incensed against her, that her life would-be in danger if she were taken prisoner a second time.”] * [This thunderstorm occurred during the night of the 11th October, 1809, when Lord 13yron's guides had lost the road to Zitza, near the range of mountains formerly called

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Pindus, in Albania. Mr. Hobhouse, who had rode on before the rest of the party, and arrived at Zitza just as the evening set in, describes the thunder as “roaring without intermission, the echoes of one peal not ceasing to roll in the mountains, before another tremendous crash burst over our heads; whilst the plains and the distant hills appeared in a perpetual blaze.” “The tempest,” he says, “ was altogether terrific, and worthy of the Grecian Jove. My Friend, with

To others give a thousand smiles, To me a single sigh. 1

And when the admiring circle mark The paleness of thy face,

A half-form'd tear, a transient spark Of melancholy grace,

Again thou Tt smile, and blushing shun Some coxcomb's raillery;

Nor own for once thou thought'st on one, Who ever thinks on thee.

Though smile and sigh alike are vain, When sever'd hearts repine,

My spirit flies o'er mount and main, And mourns in search of thine.

STANZAS written in PAssix G the Axibn AcIAN GULF.

TH Rough cloudless skies, in silvery sheen,
Full beams the moon on Actium's coast;

And on these waves, for Egypt's queen,
The ancient world was won and lost.

And now upon the scene I look,
The azure grave of many a Roman;

Where stern Ambition once forsook
His wavering crown to follow woman.

Florence whom I will love as well
As ever yet was said or sung,

(Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell)
Whilst thou art fair and I am young;

Sweet Florence : those were pleasant times,
When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes:

Had bards as many realms as rhymes,
Thy charms might raise new Antonies.

Though Fate forbids such things to be
Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curl’d
I cannot lose a world for thee,
But would not lose thee for a world
November 14. 1809.



THE spell is broke, the charm is flown Thus is it with life's fitful fever:

We madly smile when we should groan; Delirium is our best deceiver.

Each lucid interval of thought
Recalls the woes of Nature's charter,

And he that acts as wise men ought,
But lives, as saints have died, a martyr.

in the morning. I now learnt from him that they had lost their way, and that, after wandering up and down in total ignorance of their position, they had stopped at last near some Turkish tombstones and a torrent, which they saw by the flashes of lightning. They had been thus exposed for nine hours. It was long before we ceased to talk of the thunderstorm in the plain of Zitza.”]

! [“ These stanzas,” says Mr. Moore, “ have a music in

the priest and the servants, did not enter our hut till three them, which, independently of all meaning, is enchanting."]


If, in the month of dark December,
Leander, who was nightly wont

(What maid will not the tale remember 7)
To cross thy stream, broad Iiellespont I

If, when the wintry tempest roar'd, He sped to Hero, nothing loth,

And thus of old thy current pour'd, Fair Venus ! how I pity both :

For me, degenerate modern wretch, Though in the genial month of May,

My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, And think I’ve done a feat to-day.

But since he cross'd the rapid tide,
According to the doubtful story,

To woo, - and — Lord knows what beside,
And swam for Love, as I for Glory;

"T were hard to say who fared the best:
Sad mortals: thus the Gods still plague you!
He lost his labour, I my jest;
For he was drown'd, and I’ve the ague. “
May 9, 1810.

1 on the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain Bathurst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant I:kenhead of that frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the European shore to the Asiatic–by the by, from Abydos to Sestos would have been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, ... the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those ou board the frigate at upwards of four English miles ; though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row directly across, and it may, in some measure, be estimated from the circumstance of the whole distance bein accomplished by one of the parties in an hour, and five, an by the other in an hour and ten, minutes. The water was extremely cold, from the melting of the mountain snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had made an attempt; but, having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we sound it necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below the castles, when we swam the straits, as just stated; entering a considerable way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic, fort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same distance for his inistress, and Oliver mentions its having been done by a Neapolitan ; but our consui. Tarragona, remembered neither of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished a greater distance; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability.

* [“My companion,” o: Mr. Hobhouse, “ had before made a more perilous, but less celebrated passage ; for I recollect that, when we were in Portugal, he swam from Old Lisbon to Belem Castle, and having to contend with a tide and counter current, the wind blowing freshly, was but little less than two hours in crossing."]

* [At Orchomenus, where stood the Temple of the Graces, 1 was tempted to exclaim." Whither have the Graces fled ” Little did I expect to find them here; yet here comes one of them with golden cups and coffee, and another with a book. The book is a register of names, some of which are far sounded by the voice of fame. *: them is Lord dyron's, connected with some lines which I here send you. — #. W. Willia Ms.]

* [we copy the following intercsting account of the Majd of Athens and her family from the late eminent artist, Mr. Hugh Williams of Edinburgh's, “Travels in Italy, Greece.” &c. “Our fervant, who had gone before to procure accornmodation, met us at the gate, and conducted us to Theodore

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Macri, the Consulina's, where we at present live. This lady is the widow of the consul, and has three lovely daughters'; the eldest celebrated for her beauty, and said to be the ‘Maid of Athens' of Lord Byron. Their apartment is immediately opposite to ours, and, if you could see them, as we do now, through the gently waving aromatic plants before our window, you would leave your heart in Athens. Theresa, the Maids of Athens, Catinco, and Mariana, are of middle stature. On the crown of the head of each is a red Albanian skull-cap, with a blue tassel spread out and fastened down like a star. . Near the edge or bottom of the skull-cap is a handkerchief of various colours bound round their temples. The youngest wears her hair loose, falling on her shoulders, —the hair behind descending down the back nearly to the waist, and, as usual, mixed with silk. The two eldest gene. rally have their hair bound, and sastened under the handkerchief. Their upper robe is a pelisse edged with fur, hanging loose down to the ankles ; below is a handkerchief of muslin covering the bosom, and terminating at the waist, which is short; under that, a gown of striped silk or muslin, with a gore round the swell of the loins, falling in front in graceful negligence;— white stockings and yellow slippers complete their attire. The two eldest have black, or dark, hair and eyes; their visage oval, and complexion somewhat pale, with teeth of dazzling whiteness. heir cheeks are rounded, and noses straight, rather inclined to aquiline. The youngest, Mariana, is very fair, her face not so finely rounded, but has a gayer expression than her sisters', whose countenances, .. when the conversation has something of mirth in it, may be said to be rather pensive. Their persons are elegant, and their manners pseasing and ladylike, such as would be fascinating in any country. They possess very considerable powers of conversation, and their minds seem to be more instructed than those of the Greek women in general. With such attractions, it would, indeed, be remarkable, if they did not meet with great attentions from the travellers who occasionally are resident in Athens. They sit in the eastern style, a little reclined, with their limbs gathered under them on the divan, and without shoes. Their employments are the needle, tambouring, and reading.” There is a beautiful engraving of the Maid of Athens in Finden's Illustrations of Byron, No. 1.] * Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it, I shall ashont the gentlemen, as it may scem that I supposed they could not ; and if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter, I shall do so, beggin; pardon of the learned. It means. “My life, I love you !" which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Itoman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenised.

N n

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! In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles, &c. o the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy of Mercury—an old woman. A cinder says, “I burn for thee; ” a bunch of flowers tied with hair, “Take me and fly;” but a pebble declares—what nothing else can.

2 Constantinople.

* [“I am just come from an expedition through the Bosphorus to the Black Sea and the Cyanean Symplegades, up which last I scrambled with as great risk as ever the Argonauts escaped in their hoy. You remember the beginning of the nurse's dole in the Medea, of which I beg you to take the following translation, done on the summit.”— Lord B. to Mr. Henry Drury, June 17. 1810.]

* [“I have just escaped from a physician and a fever. spite of my teeth and tongue, the English consul, my Tartar, Albanian, dragoman, forced a physician upon me, and in three days brought me to the last gasp. In this state I made my epitaph.”— Lord Byron to Mr. Hodgson, Oct. 3. 1810.]

* [These lines are copied from a leaf of the original MS. of the second canto of “Childe Harold.”]

* [On the departure, in July, 1810, of his friend and fellowtraveller, Mr. Hobhouse, for England, Ilord Byron fixed his head-quarters at Athens, where he had taken lodgings in a Franciscan convent ; making occasional excursions through Attica and the Morea, and employing himself, in the interval of his tours, in collecting materials for those notices on the state of modern Greece which are appended to the second canto of “Childe Harcll.” In this retreat also he wrote “ Hints from Horace,” “The Curse of Minerva,” and “Remarks on the Romaic, or Modern Greek Language.” He thus writes to his mother: —“At present, I do not care to venture a winter's voyage, even if I were otherwise tired of travelling: but I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind, instead of reading about thein, and the bitter

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effects of staying at home with all the narrow prejudices of an islander, that I think there should be a law amongst us to send our young men abroad, for a term, among the few allies our wars have left us. Here I see, and have conversed with, French, Italians, Germans, Danes, Greeks, Turks, Americans, &c. &c. &c.; and, without losing sight of my own, I can judge of the countries and manners of others. When i see the superiority of England (which, by the by, we are a good deal mistaken about in manythings), I am pleased; and where I, find her inferior, I am at least enlightened. Now, I might have stayed, smoked in your towns, or fogged in your country, a century, without being sure of this, and without acquiring any thing more useful or amusing at home. I keep no journal ; nor have I any intention of scribbling my travels. I have done with authorship; and if, in my last production, i have convinced the critics or the world I was something more than they took me for, I am satisfied: nor will I hazard that reputation by a future effort. It is true I have some others in manuscript, but I leave them for those who come after me; and, if deemed worth publishing, they may serve to prolong my memory, when I myself shall cease to remember. I have a famous Bavarian artist taking some views of Athens, &c. &c., for me. This will be better than scribbling—a disease I hope myself cured of. I hope, on my return, to lead * recluse life : but God knows, and does best for us

7 The song Assors rai?s;, &c. was written by Riga, who

rished in the attempt to revolutionise Greece. This transation is as literal as the author could make it in verse, it is of the same measure as that of the original. [while at the Capuchin convent, Lord Byron devoted some hours daily to the study of the Romaic; and various proofs of his diligence will be found in the AppeNdix. See 'remarks on the Romaic or Modern Greek Language, with specimens and Translations.]

* Constantinople. “Errázaret.”

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Now sad is the garden of roses,
Beloved but false Haidee :

There Flora all wither'd reposes,
And mourns o'er thine absence with me.


The kiss, dear maid thy lip has left
Shall never part from mine,

Till happier hours restore the gift
Untainted back to thine.

Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, An equal love may see :

The tear that from thine eyelid streams Can weep no change in me.

I ask no pledge to make me blest
In gazing when alone ;

Nor one memorial for a breast,
Whose thoughts are all thine own.

Nor need I write—to tell the tale My pen were doubly weak :

Oh what can idle words avail, Unless the heart could speak 7

By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart, no longer free,
Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent, ache for thee.
March, 1811.


StraNgER behold, interr'd together,
The souls of learning and of leather.
Poor Joe is gone, but left his all :
You'll find his relics in a stall.
His works were neat, and often found
Well stitch'd, and with morocco bound.
Tread lightly — where the bard is laid
He cannot mend the shoe he made ;
Yet is he happy in his hole,
With verse immortal as his sole.
But still to business he held fast,
And stuck to Phoebus to the last.
Then who shall say so good a fellow
Was only “leather and prunella 2 "
For character—he did not lack it;
And if he did, 't were shame to “ Black-it."

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