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information to the pirate, who, as well Had cost his enemies a long repentance, as other parents, would have liked to And made him a good friend, but bad achave heard his memory more solemnly

quaintance. respected, but he suppressed his anger“ But something of the spirit of old Greece as well as he could, and inquired the Flash'd o'er his soul a few heroic rays, name of the new master who had turn- Such as lit onward to the Golden Fleece ed Haidée into a matron. To this, how His predecessors in the Colchian days. ever, he received but a very so-so an- 'Tis true he had no ardent love for


Alas! his country show'd no path to • He ask'd no further questions, and pro- Hate to the world and war with

praise ; ceeded

every na

tion On to the house.

He waged, in vengeance of her degrada“ He entered in the house no more his


Still o'er his mind the influence of the
A thing to human feelings the most trying, clime
And harder for the heart to overcome, Shed its Ionian elegance, which show'd,
Perhaps, than even the mental pangs of Its power unconsciousłyfull many a time,

A taste seen in the choice of his abode,
To find our hearthstone turn'd into a tomb, A love of music and of scenes sublime,
And round its once warm precincts, palely A pleasure in the gentle stream that

flow'd The ashes of our hopes, is a deep grief, Past him in crystal, and a joy in flowers, Beyond a single gentleman's belief. Bedew'd his spirit in his calmer hours."

Lambro, for so it seems he was call“ He entered in the house his home no

ed, passed, unseen, a private gate, For without hearts there is no home and and stood within the hall where his felt

daughter and her lover were at table. The solitude of passing his own door

This affords the noble poet an opporWithout a welcome. There he long had tunity to show his knowledge of a dwelt,

Greek gentleman's house and an OttoThere his few peaceful days Time had man feast. But the merits of this still swept o'er;

life, splendid and true as they are in There his worn bosom and keen eye would delineation and colouring, are far inmelt

ferior to the description of Haidée. Over the innocence of that sweet child, His only shrine of feeling undefiled.”

“ Round her she made an atmosphere of The portrait of this man is one of

life, the best, if not the very best, of all

The very air seem'd lighter from her

eyes, Byron's gloomy portraits.

They were so soft and beautiful, and rife the Corsair grown into an elderly cha- : racter and a father, but it is equal to And pure as Psyche ere she grew a wife

With all we can imagine of the skies, the finest heads that ever Michael An

Too pure even for the purest human gelo, Carrivagio, painted with black and umber.

Her overpowering presence made you feel
“ He was a man of a strange temperament, It would not be idolatry to kneel.
Of mild demeanour, though of savage . 6 Her eyelashes, though dark as night,

Moderate in all his habits, and content

were tinged,
With temperance in pleasure as in food;

(It is the country's custom,) but in vain ; Quick to perceive, and strong to bear, and For those large black eyes were so blackly

fringed, For something better, if not wholly And in their native beauty stood avenged

The glossy rebels mock'd the jetty stain, good; His country's wrongs, and his despair to

Her nails were touch'd with henna; but save her,

again Had stung him from a slave to an enslaver.

The power of art was turn'd to nothing, for “ The love of power, and rapid gain of They could not look more rosy than before. gold,

- The henna should be deeply dyed to The hardness by long habitude produced,

make The dangerous life in which he had grown

The skin relieved appear more fairly old, The mercy he had granted oft abused,

She had no need of this, day ne'er will The sights he was accustom'd to behold,

break Tho wild seas, and wild men, with whom On mountain tops more heavenly whire » he cruised,

than her:

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The eye might doubt if it were well awake, But one arise, we come, we come !"

She was so like a vision ; I might err, 'Tis but the living who are dumb. But Shakspeare also says 'tis very silly

“ In vain—in vain : strike other chords; • To gild refined gold, or paint the lily.”'

· Fill high the cup with Samian wine ! Haidee and Juan are amused, while Leave battles to the Turkish hordes, at table, by dwarfs and dancing-girls, And shed the blood of Scio's vine ! black eunuchs, and a poet, of whom Í Hark! rising to the ignoble call — shall say nothing, Christopher, because How answers each bold bacchanal ! I do not think the account is very You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet, good, but his song, I am persuaded, Where is the Pyrrhic phalanx gone ? you will think is the very loftiest Of two such lessons, why forget bachanalian ever penned—You will,

The nobler and the manlier one ? indeed, although with a grumble, Í You have the letters Cadmus gaveknow, allow this as if you were suffer- Think ye he meant them for a slave ? ing a jerk of your rheumatism. “ Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! “ The isles of Greece, the isles of Greece,

We will not think of themes like these!

It made Anacreon's song divine : Where burning Sappho loved and sung,

He served_but served PolycratesWhere grew the arts of war and peace, Where Delos rose, and Phæbus sprung!

A tyrant; but our masters then

Were still, at least, our countrymen.
Eternal summer gilds them yet,
But all, except their sun, is set.

“ The tyrant of the Chersonese 66 The Scian and the Teian muse,

Was freedom's best and bravest friend ;

That tyrant was Miltiades !
The hero's harp, the lover's lute,
Have found the fame your shores refuse;

Oh! that the present hour would lend

Another despot of the kind ! Their place of birth alone is mute

Such chains as his were sure to bind. To sounds which echo further west Than your sires' “ Islands of the Blest.' “ Fill high the bowl with Samian wine !

On Suli's rock, and Parga's shore, “ The mountains look on Marathon

Exists the remnant of a line
And Marathon looks on the sea;

Such as the Doric mothers bore;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dream'd that Greece might still be free; The Heracleidan blood might own.

And there, perhaps, some seed is sown,
For, standing on the Persians' grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.

6. Trust not for freedom to the Franks

They have a king who buys and sells ; “ A king sate on the rocky brow

In native swords, and native ranks, Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;

The only hope of courage dwells ;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,

But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
And men in nations ;-all were his !
He counted them at break of day-

Would break your shield, however broad. And when the sun set where were they? “Fill high the bowl with Samian wine ! " And where are they? and where art thou, I see their glorious black eyes shine ;

Our virgins dance beneath the shade My country? On thy voiceless shore The heroic lay is tuneless now

But gazing on each glowing maid, The heroic bosom beats no more!

My own the burning tear-drop laves,

To think such breasts must suckle slaves. And must thy lyre, so long divine, Degenerate into hands like mine?

“ Place me on Sunium's marbled steep“ 'Tis something, in the dearth of fame,

Where nothing, save the waves and I, Though link'd among a fetter'd race,

May hear our mutual murmurs sweep; To feel at least a patriot's shame,

There, swan-like, let me sing and die :

A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine-
Even as I sing, suffuse my face ;
For what is left the poet here?

Dash down yon cup of Samian wine !" For Greeks a blush-for Greece a tear. There is a little confusion in the “Must we but weep o'er days more blest ? narrative; or perhaps it is the hurry

Must wc but blush? -Our fathers bled. in which I am going over it, that makes Earth! render back from out thy breast me not able to trace it so clearly as I

A remnant of our Spartan dead ! might do, through digressions. LamOf the three hundred grant but three,

bro arrived while the lovers were at To make a new Thermopylæ! dinner, and we are led to suppose " What, silent still? and silent all ?

that he witnesses their dalliance and Ah ! no ;--the voices of the dead revelling; but it would seem that this Sound like a distant torrent's fall,

was not the case, for we find Haidée : And

answer, “Let one living head, and Juan left alone after the banquet,

slaves gone,

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with prayer.

admiring the rosy twilight of the even- Grecian evening, a presentiment of soring sky.

row passes over their hearts. “ T' our tale. The feast was over, the

“ I know not why, but in that hour to-night,

Even as they gazed, a sudden tremor The dwarfs and dancing girls had all re- And swept, as 'twere, across their heart's

came, tired; The Arab lore and poet's song were done,


Like the wind o'er a harp-string, or a And every sound of revelry expired ;

flame, The lady and her lover, left alone, The rosy flood of twilight sky admi. When one is shook in sound, and one in red ;


And thus son Ave Maria ! o'er the earth and sea,

boding flash'd through

either frame, That heavenliest hour of Heaven is wor. thiest thee!

And call'd from Juan's breast a faint low

sigh, 66 Ave Maria ! blessed be the hour,

While one new tear arose in Haidée's The time, the clime, the spot, where I so

eye.” oft

Having retired to their couch, they Have felt that moment in its fullest power are still haunted by the same unplea

Sink o'er the earth so beautiful and soft, sant something While swung the deep bell in the distant

“ Now pillow'd

cheek to cheek, in loving tower,

sleep, Or the faint dying day-hymn stole aloft, Haidée and Juan their siesta took, And not a breath crept through the rosy A gentle slumber, but it was not deep,, air,

For ever and anon a something shook And yet the forest leaves seem'd stirr'd Juan, and shuddering o'er his frame would

creep; « Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of prayer !

And Haidée's sweet lips murmur'd like Ave Maria ! 'tis the hour of love!

a brook Ave Maria ! may our spirits dare

A wordless music, and her face so fair Look up to thine, and to thy Son's above! Stirr'd with her dream as rose-leaves with Ave Maria ! oh that face so fair !

the air ; Those downcast eyes beneath the Al “Or as the stirring of a deep clear stream, mighty dove

Within the Alpine hollow, when the What though 'tis but a pictured image wind strike

Walks over it, was she shaken by the That painting is no idol, 'tis too like.

dream, Now, Christopher, after this, take O'erpowering us to be whate'er may seem

The mystical usurper of the mind thy crutch, and, with the help of Black Good to the soul which we no more can wood'sporter, John Lesley, crawlup the new road along the Salisbury Craigs, Strange state of being! (for 'tis still to be) on the first fine Sabbath evening, when Senseless to feel, and with seal'd eyes to all the west is still one broad glow of heavenly ruby ; and the castle, in the In this state, the ominous fancies of middle of the view, appears like the Haidée take at last the definite form crowned head of some great being, of a regular dream, in which she sees resting on his elbow in contemplation; Juan dead in a cavern. repeat these verses, and I will venture on him, he seems to change into the to bet a plack to a bawbee, that from resemblance of her father. Startled that hour all animosity against the by the apparition, she awakes, and the wayward and unfortunate Byron will first object that her eyes meet are those be for ever hushed in thy bosom. Even of the pirate sternly fixed upon herJohn himself will, by the mere sound Juan is in the same moment roused by of thy solemn voice of prayer, thence- the shriek she gave. forth forego the grudge that he has “UpJuan sprung to Haidée's bitter shriek, long borne his lordship for the many

And caught her falling, and from off burdens he has made him bear, and,

the wall melting into tears of tenderness, dry Snatch'd down his sabre, in hiot haste to

wreak the big

drops from his eyes with a corner of the same handkerchief which

Vengeance on him who was the cause thou wilt apply to wipe the Ave Maria Then Lambro, who till now forbore to dew from thine own.

speak, While Haidée and Juan were con Smiled scornfully, and said, “Within templating the glorious stillness of a



As she gazes

of all :

my call,

joy ?


A thousand scimitars await the word ; “I

said they were alike, their features and Put up, young man, put up your silly Their stature differing but in ser and sword.'

years ; “ And Haidée clung around him ; « Juan, Even to the delicacy of their hands tis

There was resemblance, such as true

blood wears ; 'Tis Lambro--'tis my father! Kneel with me

And now to see them, thus divided, stand He will forgive us--yes-it must be

In fix'd ferocity, when joyous tears, yes.

And sweet sensations, should have wel. Oh ! 'dearest father, in this agony

comed both, Of pleasure and of paineven while I kiss Show what the passions are in their full Thy garment's hem with transport, can

growth." it be

This, Christopher, you must allow, That doubt should mingle with my filial is spirited, and you will observe a Deal with me as thou wilt, but spare this curious mark of propinquity which the boy.'

poet notices with respect to the hands

of the father and daughter. The poet, “ High and inscrutible the old man stood, I suspect, is indebted for the first hint Calm in his voice, and calm within his of this to Ali Pashaw, who, by the bye,

eye-— Not always signs with him of calmest mood: is the original of Lambro; for when his

He look'd upon her, but gave no reply; Lordship was introduced, with his Then turn'd to Juan, in whose cheek the squat friend, Cam, to that agreeableblood

mannered týrant, the vizier said that Oft came and went, as there resolved to he knew he was the Magotos Anthropos

by the smallness of his

ears and hands. In arms, at least, he stood, in act to spring Don Juan is dangerously wounded, On the first foe whom Lambro's call might and being seized by some of the pibring.

rate's sailors, is carried from the scene. « • Young man, your sword ;' so Lambro The effect on poor Haidée is deplo. once more said :

rable. Juan replied, “Not while this arm is

For several days she lay insensible, free. The old man's cheek grew pale, but not and,

when she awoke from her trance,

she was in such a state as Mlle. Nobwith dread, And drawing from his belt a pistol, he let is seen in the ballet of Nina. The Replied, “Your blood be then on your the Thane of Fife, ask him if there is

first time you see your venison friend, own head.' Then look'd close at the flint, as if to see not some reason to suspect that Byron 'Twas fresh, for he had lately used the lock, had her in his eye when he wrote the And next proceeded quietly to cock. following description : “ It has a strange quick jar upon the ear, “ Afric is all the sun's, and as her earth

That cocking of a pistol, when you know Her human clay is kindled ; full of A moment more will bring the sight to power bear

For good or evil, burning from its birth, Upon your person, twelve yards off, or The Moorish blood partakes the planet's SO;

hour, A gentlemanly distance, not too near, And like the soil beneath it will bring If you have got a former friend for foe;

forth : But after being fired at once or twice, Beauty and love were Haidée's mother's The ear becomes more Irish, and less nice.

dower ; But her large dark eye show'd deep Pas

sion's force, “ He gazed on her, and she on him ; 'twas Though sleeping like a lion near a source.

strange How like they look'd! the expression “ Her daughter, temper'd with a milder was the same;

ray, Serenely savage, with a little change Like summer clouds all silvery, smooth, In the large dark eye's mutual darted

and fair, flame;

Till slowly charged with thunder they disFor she too was as one who could avenge, play If cause should be a lioness, though Terror to earth, and tempest to the air,

Had held till pow her soft and milky way; Her father's blood before her fathers's face But overwrought with passion and deBoil'd up, and proved her truly of his race. spair,

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give her

she gave

The fire burst forth from her Numidian “ Short solace, vain relief !-thought came veins,

too quick, Even as the Simoom sweeps the blasted And whirl'd her brain to madness ; she plains."

As one who ne'er had dwelt among the sick, “ She woke at length, but not as sleepers

And flew at all she met, as on her foes ; wake,

But no one ever heard her speak or shriek, Rather the dead, for life seem'd some Although her paroxysm drew towards thing new,

its close : A strange sensation which she must partake Her's was a phrensy which disdain' to rave,

Perforce, since whatsoever met her view Even when they smote her, in the hope to Struck noton memory, though a heavy ache Lay at her heart, whose earliest beat still true

“Yet she betray'd at times a gleam of sense;

Nothing could make her meet her faBrought back the sense of pain without the

ther's face,
For, for a while, the furies made a pause.

Though on all other things with looks intense
She gazed, but none she ever could re-

trace ;
“She look'd on many a face with vacant eye, Food she refused, and raiment; no pretence

On many a token without knowing what; Availed for either; neither change of She saw them watch her without asking why,

place, Andreck'd not who around her pillow sat; Nor time, nor skill, nor remedy, could Not speechless though she spoke not; not a sigh

Senses to sleep--the power seem'd gone Relieved her thoughts ; dull silence and

for ever. quick chat Were tried in vain by those who served ; “ Twelve days and nights she wither'd

thus ; at last, Nosign, save breath,of having left thegravé. Without a groan, or sigh, or glance, to

show “ Her handmaids tended, but she heeded A parting pang, the spirit from her past; not ;

And they who watch'd her nearest could Her father watch'd, she turn'd her eyes

not know away;

The very instant, till the change that cast
She recognised no being, and no spot Hersweet face into shadow, dull and slow,

However dear or cherish'd in their day; Glazed o'er her eyes--the beautiful, the
They changed from room to room, but all


Oh! to possesssuchlustre—and then lack!" Gentle, but without memory she lay;

Don Juan in the meantime is carAnd yet those eyes, which they would fain be weaning

ried aboard one of Lambro's vessels, Back to old thoughts, seem'd full of fear- where he is placed among a cargo of ful meaning

singers, who had been taken in going

on from Leghorn to Sicily on a pro“At last a slave bethought her of a harp; fessional trip. The pirate destined The harper came, and tuned his instruc them for the Constantinople slave

At the first notes, irregular and sharp,

market, where in due time they arrive, On him her flashing eyes a moment bent, favourite Sultana. Baba, the eunuch

and Don Juan is purchased for the Then to the wall she turn’d, as if to warp who made the bargain, carries him to Her thoughts from sorrow through her heart re-sent,

the palace where she resided. And he begun a long low island song “ Baba led Juan onward room by room Of ancient days, ere tyranny grew strong. Through glittering galleries, and o'er

marble floors, “Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall In time to his old tune ; he changed the Till a gigantic portal through the gloom, theme,

Haughty and huge, along the distance

towers ; And sung of love ; the fierce name struck

And wafted far arose a rich perfume :
through all
Her recollection; on her flash'd the dream It seem'd as though they came upon a

Of what she was, and is, if you could call
To be so, being; in a gushing stream

For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine. The tears rush'd forth from her o'erclouded “ The giant door was broad, and bright, brain,

and high, Like mountain mists at length dissolved in Of gilded bronze, and carved in curious rain.

guise ; Vol. X,


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