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""Twere 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."

is such, that no boat can row directly across; and it may in some measure be estimated, from the circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour and five, and 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, we had made which was laid in Albania and

After an absence of nearly three years, Lord Byron revisited his native shores, and exhibited the advantages of travelling in his "Childe Harold," the plan of

prosecuted at Athens, where it received some of its finest touches and most splendid ornaments.

an attempt; but having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it necesIt soon appeared that his Lordsary to postpone the completion ship had a great facility of writing. till the frigate anchored below the He published in rapid succession castles, when we swam the straits, the Giaour, the Bride of Abydos, as just stated, entering a consi- and the Corsair, the first inscribderable way above the European, ed to Mr. Rogers, the second to and landing below the Asiatic, Lord Holland, and the third to fort. Chevalier says, that a Mr. Thomas Moore. The spirit young Jew swam the same dis- and brilliancy of all these poems tance for his mistress; and Oliver were great. In the dedication of mentions its having been done by the "Corsair," he said it was the a Neapolitan; but our Consul at last production with which he Tarragona remembered neither of should trespass on public patience those circumstances, and tried to for some years-a sort of promise dissuade us from the attempt. A which poets are not much expectnumber of the Salsette's crew ed to keep, and are easily excused were known to have accomplished a greater distance and the only thing that surprised me was, that as doubts had been entertained of of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had endeavoured to ascertain its practicability."

for breaking.

On the 2nd of January, 1815, Lord Byron married at Seham, in the county of Durham, the only daughter of Sir Ralph Milbank Noel, Baronet, and towards the close of the same year, his

The result of this notable adven- Lady brought him a daughter, ture Lord Byron recorded in some for whom he always manifested lively lines, comparing himself the strongest affection. Within a with Leander, and concluding few weeks, however, after that thus:event, a separation took place, for

There are two souls whose equal flow,
In gentle streams so calmly run,
That when they part----they part!----

ah, no!

They cannot part---those souls are one."

which various causes have been stated. This différence excited a prodigious sensation at the time, and was the last stab to the hap piness of his Lordship. We would Within a few weeks, however, not aggravate the feelings of a after the separation took place, widowed mother, but justice to Lord Byron suddenly left the the memory of the noble Bard kingdom with a resolution never compels us to express our conviction, that the separation on his part was involuntary, and although he vented his spleen in some angry verses, yet how deeply he loved Lady Byron will be seen from the following stanzas, which he addressed to her a few months before their separation :

TO JESSY.

"There is a mystic thread of life

So dearly wreathed with mine alone,
That Destiny's relentless knife
At once must sever both or none.
There is a form on which these eyes
Have often gåzed with fond delight;
By day that form their joy supplies,
And dreams restore it through the
night.

There is a voice whose tones inspire
Such thrills of rapture through my
breast;

I would not hear a seraph choir,
Unless that voice could join the rest.
There is a face whose blushes tell
Affection's tale upon the cheek;
But pallid at one fond farewell,
Proclaims more love than words can
speak.

There is a lip which mine hath prest,
And none had ever pressed before;
It vowed to make me sweetly blest,
And mine, mine only press it more.
There is a bosom----all my own----
Hath pillow'd oft this aching head;
A mouth which smiles on me alone,
An eye whose tears with mine are

shed.

There are two hearts whose movements thrill

to return.

He crossed over to France, through which he passed rapidly to Brussels, taking in his way a survey of the field of Waterloo. After visiting some of the most remarkable scenes in Switzerland he proceeded to the North of Italy. In most of his poems Lord Byron displays the most fond and ardent attachment to Greece, whose fate he thus beautifully describes in one of his poems:

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Their place of birth alone is mute
To sounds which echo further west
Than your sires' Islands of the Blest."
The mountains look on Marathon-

And Marathon looks on the sea;
And musing there an hour alone,
I dream'd that Greece might still be
free;

For standing on the Persian's grave,
I could not deem myself a slave.
A king sat on the rocky brow

Which looks o'er sea-born Salamis;
And ships, by thousands, lay below,
And men in nations; -all were his!

In unison so closely sweet! That pulse to pulse responsive still, That both must heave---or cease to He counted them at break of dayAnd when the sun set where were

beat

they?

And where are they! and where art
thou,
My country? On thy voiceless shore

The heroic lay is tuneless now

The heroic bosom beats no more!
And must the lyre, so long divine,
Degenerate into hands like mine?
'Tis something in the dearth of fame,
Tho' link'd among a fetter'd race,
To feel at least a patriots shame,
Even as I sing, suffuse my face;
For what is left the poet here!
For Greeks a blush-for Greece a tear.

The poetry of the three concluding stanzas is not less exquisite nor less animated.

Trust not for freedom to the Franks
They have a king who buys and
sells;
In native swords, and native ranks,
The only hope of courage dwells;
But Turkish force, and Latin fraud,
Would break your shields, however

broad.

Fill high the bowl with Samian wine! • Our virgins dance beneath the shade; I see their glorious black eyes shine;

But gazing on each glowing maid,
My own the burning tear drop laves,
To think such breasts must suckle
slaves.

Place me on Sunium's marble steep,-
Where nothing, save the waves and 1,
May hear our mutual murmurs sweep;
There, swan-like, let me sing and
A land of slaves shall ne'er be mine
Dash down the cup of Samian wine.

die: :

Encouraged by his name, foreigners of ability were crowding to the scene of contest, and giving to the Greeks the benefits of discipline and experience. The genius of the great poet would have immortalized the efforts of the Christians; and Greece, already distinguished by so many imperishable recollections, would have lived with new glory in his song. The names of Bozzaris and her modern heroes, by whose intrepid courage the bands of the infidel have been so often scattered, would have been joined with the patriots of Platea and Thermopylæ; and consecrated by the talents of Lord Byron, have gone down, in kindled memory, to succeeding days; but, unhappily for Greece, their champion has perished in the prime of youth, and in the midst of his exertions in her cause. This melancholy event took place at Missolonghi, on the 19th of April. On the 9th of that month, his Lordship, who had been living very low, exposed. himself in a violent rain; the consequence of which was a severe cold, and he was immediately confined to his bed. The low state to which he had been reduced by

He devoted himself to the redemption of that lovely and classic land, from the bondage of the infidel, which so long enthralled it. Lord Byron's personal influence reconciled the Greek chiefs, and banished discord from among his abstinence, and probably by them. He contributed largely some of the remaining effects of from his private fortune to their his previous illness, made him unwants and his presence on those willing-or at any rate he refused shores drew the attention of all to submit to be bled. It is to Europe to the strife of the Chris- be lamented that no one was near tians against the Infidel crescent, his Lordship who had sufficient and made the very Divan tremble. influence over his mind, or who was himself sufficiently aware of tained without effort is never the necessity of the case, to in- highly prized. It is fortunate for duce him to submit to that re- the great when they can escape medy, which, in all human pro- from themselves into some purbability, would have saved a life suit, which, by firing their ambiso valuable to Greece. The in- tion, gives a stimulus to their acflammatory action, unchecked, ter- tive powers. - We rejoiced to see minated fatally on the 19th of Lord Byron engaged in a cause April. His last words, before which afforded such motives for

delirium had seized his powerful mind, were, "I wish it to be known that my last thoughts were given to my wife, my child, and my sister!"

exertions, and we anticipated from him many days of glory. But it has been otherwise decreed.

Had it pleased the Almighty to spare his valuable life, he would Thus has perished, in the flower probably have seen his exertions of his age, in the noblest of causes, crowned with success, and Greece one of the greatest poets England again triumphant and free; but ever produced. His death, at this her liberation must now fall into moment, is, no doubt, a severe other hands: but where can a man misfortune to the struggling peo- like Byron be found? In the ple for whom he has so generously magnificence of his genius he devoted himself. His character stood in Europe high above all we shall not attempt to draw. He competition. To Greece he had had virtues, and he had failings; the latter were, in a great measure, the result of the means of indulgence which were placed within his reach at so early a period of his life. "Give me neither poverty nor riches," said

devoted all his energies, and the whole strength of his mind. He has been snatched from amongst this interesting people just when they wanted his counsels and his talents most, and their universal regret has shewn how much they

an inspired writer, and certainly valued and respected him. The it may be said that the gift of proclamation of the Provisional riches is an unfortunate one for Government at Missolonghi, is an the possessor. The aim which affecting document; it has all the men, who are not born to wealth, simplicity of real sorrow; there is have constantly before them, gives about it no pomp of words; it a relish to existence to which the speaks of the death of the great hereditarily opulent must ever be poet as "a most calamitous event strangers. Gratifications of every for all Greece." "His munificent kind soon lose their attraction, the donations," it adds, "are before game of life is played without in- the eyes of every one, and no one terest, for that which can be ob- amongst us ever ceased, or ever

will cease, to consider him with admonition which we should all the purest and most grateful do well to remember-" Let him sentiments as our benefactor." that is without sin cast the first In future days, when the Greeks stone." Thus much we may be have trodden the crescent in the permitted to remark in behalf of dust when the Infidel, so long Lord Byron, that they make a encamped in Europe, is driven very erroneous estimate of his across the Bosphorus, and the city character who conceive he was of Constantine again in the Chris- capable of withholding his approtian's hands, -events, however bation from right principles and vast, which we may live to wit- virtuous dispositions, wherever ness, the name of Lord Byron will they were found. survive in the page of Grecian glory, and his mausoleum may repose under the alter of St. Sophia, from whose minarets the Imaun now calls to prayers. Great as is his loss, it is a consolation that freedom in Greece does not perish with him..

About two years ago Lord By ron wrote his own memoirs, which he presented to Mr. Moore, and Mr. Murray purchased the MS. for 2,000/. not to be published until the death of the noble poet: he has since given it up, and, at the wish of some of Lord Byron's

If we except Shakspeare, there relatives, it is said to have been is, perhaps, no writer in the Eng- destroyed. Mr. Moore, in his lish language from whose works Jast poetical production, has writan equal number of poetical beau- ten a poem on the subject, entities can be selected as from those tled, "Reflections on Lozd Byof Lord Byron, He excels equally ron on reading his Memoirs writ

ten by himself." This poem is so apposite that we cannot close the present memoir without subjoin

in the sublime and the pathetic.
Some, we know, there are, who
could go on poring through the
maze of his mellifluous diction ing it.

with no other aim than to find "Let me a moment, ere with fear

out a flaw in the sentiment. The numberless passages full of spirit and beauty that cross them in their scrutiny, pass with such objectors for nothing: while their eye follows him into the loftiest regions of poetry, they have no

and hope

Of gloomy, glorious things, these

Leaves I ope

As one, in fairy tale, to whom the key
Of some enchanter's secret hall is
given,
Doubts, while he enters, slowly,
tremblingly,

If he shall meet with shapes from
hell or heaven-
Let me a moment, think what thousands

live

wish but to spy some spot upon O'er the wide earth this instant, who

his mantle. To such persons we would address ourselves in the

would give, Gladly, whole sleepless nights to bend

the brow

mild and forbearing spirit of that Over these precious leaves as I do now,

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