Where twined the path, in shadow hid Wild crests as pagod ever decked, Nor were these earth-born castles bare, Boon nature scattered, free and wild, With boughs that quaked with every breath Aloft, the ash and warrior oak Highest of all, where white peaks glanced, So wondrous wild, the whole might seem And now, to issue from the glen, No pathway meets the wanderer's ken, The broom's tough roots his ladder made, And mountains, that like giants stand, High on the south, huge Ben-venue Down to the lake in masses threw Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled, His ruined sides and summit hoar, While on the north, through middle air, Ben-an heaved high his forehead bare. PATERNAL AFFECTION. Some feelings are to mortals given, With less of earth in them than heaven: And if there be a human tear From passion's dross refined and clear, A tear so limpid and so meek, LORD BYRON: 1788-1824. George Gordon Byron, son of Captain Byron, was born in London, and in his eleventh year succeeded his grand-uncle as Lord Byron. He was educated at Harrow School, and Trinity College, Cambridge. In 1807 his first volume of poetry appeared under the title of Hours of Idleness. It was fiercely assailed in The Edinburgh Review, and the young poet replied by his vigorous satire, English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. After two years of foreign travel, he published the first two cantos of Childe Harold, which were followed by a series of eastern tales, The Giaour, The Bride of Abydos, The Corsair, and Lara. Byron was now at the height of his reputation; he was the idol of the gay circles of London, and indulged in all their revelries and excesses. Revolting at this mode of life, he married, but, twelve months after, his wife felt herself obliged to withdraw from his society. The poet sought refuge from his miseries abroad, and during six years' residence on the continent, he produced The Prisoner of Chillon, Manfred, a dramatic poem, The Lament of Tasso, the conclusion of Childe Harold, Beppo, a comic tale of Italian life, Don Juan, and a number of dramatic pieces. In 1823 Byron sailed for Greece, to aid in the struggle for its independence. He arrived in January 1824, but died a few months after. The greatness of Byron's genius is seen in Childe Harold-its tenderness, in the tales and smaller poems-its rich variety in Don Juan. A brighter garland few poets can hope to wear— yet it wants the unfading flowers of hope and virtue.' FROM CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. WAR. Hark! heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note? Red Battle stamps his foot, and nations feel the shock. Lo! where the Giant on the mountain stands, Restless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done; To shed before his shrine the blood he deems most sweet. THE LAKE OF GENEVA. Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, To waft me from distraction; once I loved That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. It is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, There breathes a living fragrance from the shore, Or chirps the grasshopper one good-night carol more; He is an evening reveller, who makes His life an infancy, and sings his fill ; At intervals, some bird from out the brakes Ye stars! which are the poetry of heaven! Of men and empires-'tis to be forgiven, Our destinies o'erleap their mortal state, A beauty and a mystery, and create In us such love and reverence from afar, That fortune, fame, power, life, have named themselves a star. All heaven and earth are still-though not in sleep, But breathless, as we grow when feeling most ; And silent, as we stand in thoughts too deep All heaven and earth are still: From the high host All is concentred in a life intense, Where not a beam, nor air, nor leaf is lost, But hath a part of being, and a sense Of that which is of all Creator and defence. The sky is changed !—and such a change! Oh night, Of a dark eye in woman! Far along, And this is in the night :-Most glorious night! A portion of the tempest and of thee! |