refused to submit to be bled. It is to be lamented that no one was near his Lordship who had sufficient influence over his mind, or who was himself sufficiently aware of the necessity of the case, to induce him to submit to that remedy, which, in all human probability, would have saved a life so valuable to Greece. The inflammatory action, unchecked, terminated fatally on the 19th of April. His last words, before 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!"

Had it pleased the Almighty to spare his valuable life, he would probably have seen his exertions crowned with success, and Greece again triumphant and free; but her liberation must now fall into other hands but where can a man like Byron be found? In the magnificence of his genius he stood in Europe high above all competition. To Greece he had devoted all his energies, and the whole strength of his great 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 valued and respected him. The proclamation of the Provisional Government at Missolonghi, which we subjoin, is an affecting document; it has all the simplicity of real sorrow; there is about it no pomp of words; it speaks of the death of the great poet as "a most calamitous event for all

Greece." "His munificent donations," it adds, 62 are before the eyes of every one, and no one amongst us ever ceased, or ever will cease, to consider him with the purest and most grateful sentiments as our benefactor." In future days, when the Greeks have trodden the crescent in the dust-when the Infidel, so long encamped in Europe, is driven across the Bosphorus, and the city of Constantine again in the Christian's hands,-events, however vast, which we may live to witness, the name of Lord Byron will survive in the page of Greek glory, and his mausoleum may repose under the altar 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.

The following is a letter from the Greek Prince Maurocordato, announcing Lord Byron's death :

Missolonghi, 8th (20th) April, 1824. "SIR, AND MY VERY DEAR FRIENDIt is with the greatest affliction that I fulfil the duty of giving you the sad news of the death of Lord Byron, after an illness of ten days. Our loss is irreparable,

and it is with justice that we abandon ourselves to inconsolable sorrow. Notwithstanding the difficult circumstances in which I am placed, I shall attempt to perform my duty towards this great man: the eternal gratitude of my country will, perhaps, be the only true tribute to his memory. The Deputies will communicate to you the details of this melancholy event, on which the grief which I feel will not allow me to dwell longer. You will excuse, you will justify, my being overwhelmed with sorrow, and accept the assurance of my devotion, and the high consideration with which I have the honour to be, Sir, your very humble and very obedient servant, "A. MAUROCORDATO.

To J. Bowring, Esq. "Secretary to the Greek Committee."

How deeply the loss of Lord Byron is felt in Greece will be seen from the following translation of the proclamation issued by the Greek authorities at Missolonghi to the inhabitants, who were by grief arrested in the celebration of their Easter festivities :—

"The present days of festivity are converted into days of bitter lamentation for all

"Lord Noel Byron departed this life to-day, about eleven o'clock in the evening, in consequence of a rheumatic inflammatory fever, which had lasted for ten days.

"During the time of his illness, your general anxiety evinced the profound sorrow that pervaded your hearts. All classes, without distinction of sex or age, oppressed by grief, entirely forgot the days of Easter.

The death of this illustrious personage is certainly a most calamitous event for all Greece, and still more lamentable for this city, to which he was eminently partial, of which he became a citizen, and of the dangers of which he was determined personally to partake, when circumstances should require it.

"His munificent donations to this community are before the eyes of every one; and no one amongst us ever ceased, or ever will cease, to consider him with the purest and most grateful sentiments, our benefactor.

"Until the dispositions of the National Government regarding this calamitous event be known, by virtue of the decree of the Legislature, No. 314, of date the 15th October, it is ordained—

"1. To-morrow, by sun-rise, thirtyseven minute-guns shall be fired from the batteries of this town, equal to the number of years of the deceased personage.

“2. All Public Offices, including all

Courts of Justice, shall be shut for three following days.

"3. All shops, except those for provisions and medicines, shall also be kept shut; and all sorts of musical instruments, all dances customary in these days, all sorts of festivity and merriment in the public taverns, and every other sort of public amusement, shall cease during the above-named period.

"4. A general mourning shall take place for twenty-one days.

"5. Funeral ceremonies shall be performed in all the churches. (Signed)

"A. MAUROCORDATO. "GIORGIA PRAIDI, Secretary. 6 Missolonghi, 19th April, 1824.”

The Greeks have requested and obtained the heart of Lord Byron, which will be placed in a mausoleum in the country for whose liberation it last beat.

If we except Shakspeare, there is, perhaps, no writer in the English language from whose works an equal number of poetical beauties can be selected as from those of Lord Byron. He excels equally in the sublime and the pathetic. Every theme seemed to suit his genius, and he could vary his style with his subject in a manner, and to an extent, that our literature had before given no example of. In his Don Juan he has given a flexibility to our language of which it had never hitherto been thought susceptible. He has shown it capable of rivalling the Italian in the gracefulness of its inflections and the pliancy of its cadence. Some, we know, there are, who could go on poring through the maze of his mellifluous diction with no other aim than to find 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 wish but to spy some spot upon his mantle. To such persons we would address ourselves in the mild and forbearing spirit of that admonition which we should all do well to remember-" Let him that is without sin cast the first stone." Thus much we may be permitted to remark in behalf of Lord Byron, that they make a very erroneous estimate of his character who conceive he was capable of withholding his approbation from right principles and virtuous dispositions, wherever they were found. An individual to whom all his friends were attached with the strongest feelings of regard, must have had many private virtues, and those too of no common kind: for the rest, God is the searcher

of hearts, and sees us all as we are. This recollection may check the severity of our sentence where human frailty is the subject. When we bring our fellow-creatures into judgment, our own consciousness may well inspire the best of us with moderation.

That "the paths of glory lead but to the grave," is a painful lesson to philosophy; it was a lesson with which,melancholy as it is,-Lord Byron was familiar; but it never for a moment damped his spirit, or depressed his energy. His searching eye saw into the very inmost hearts of those "rulers of the world," who are struggling to arrest the progress of knowledge in Europe, and to erect again "the standard of ancient night." All the force of his talents, and all the splendour of his fancy, were put forth to strengthen the love of science and of freedom.

About two years ago Lord Byron wrote his own memoirs, which he presented to Mr. Moore, and Mr. Murray purchased the MS. for 2,000l. 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 relatives, it is said to have been destroyed. Mr. Moore, in his last poetical production, has written a poem on the subject, entitled, "Reflections on Lord Byron on reading his Memoirs written by himself." This poem is so apposite that we subjoin it :LD B'S MEMOIRS, WRITTEN BY HIMSELF-REFLECTIONS WHEN ABOUT TO READ THEM.

"Let me a moment,--ere with fear 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 hea

name,

In every language, syllabled by Fame?
How all, who've felt the various spells combin'd
Within the circle of that splendid mind,
Like pow'rs, deriv'd from many a star, and met
Together in some wond'rous amulet,

Would burn to know when first the light awoke

In his young soul,---and if the gleams that broke
From that Aurora of his genius, raised
More bliss or pain in those on whom they blaz’d---
Would love to trace th' unfolding of that power,
Which hath grown ampler, grander, every hour,
And feel, in watching o'er its first advance,

As did the Egyptian traveller*, when he stood By the young Nile, and fathom'd with his lance

The first small fountains of that mighty flood. 'They, too, who, 'mid the scornful thoughts that dwell

In his rich fancy, tinging all its streams,

Bruce.

rays

Of a bright, ruin'd spirit through his lays,
Would here inquire, as from his own frank lips,
What desolating grief, what wrongs had driven
That noble nature into cold eclipse---

Like some fair orb that, once a sun in heaven,
And born, not only to surprise, but cheer
With warmth and lustre all within its sphere,
Is now so quench'd, that of its grandeur lasts
Naught, but the wide, cold shadow which it casts!
'Eventful volume! whatsoe'er the change
Of scene and clime-th' adventures, bold and
strange---

The griefs--the frailties, but too frankly told---
The loves, the feuds thy pages may unfold,
If truth with half so prompt a hand unlocks

His virtues as his failings--we shall find
The record there of friendships, held like rocks,

And enmities like sun-touch'd snow resign'dof fealty, cherish'd without change or chill, In those who serv'd him, young, and serve him

still--

Of generous aid, giv'n with that noiseless art Which wakes not pride, to many a wounded heart

Of acts---but no---not from himself must aught
Of the bright features of his life be sought.
While they, who court the world, like Milton's
cloud,

"Turn forth their silver lining" on the crowd, This gifted Being wraps himself in night,

And, keeping all that softens, and adorns, And gilds his social nature hid from sight, Turns but its darkness on a world he scorns.'

"Did a sable cloud Turn forth her silver lining on the night?"Comus.

We cannot perhaps better close our memoir, than by the following tributes to the memory of this distinguished nobleman, which appeared in the London papers :

[FROM THE TIMES.]

WITH unfeigned regret we announce to our readers, that Lord Byron is no more. We know not how many of our countrymen may share the feelings with which this news has affected us. There were individuals more to be approved for moral qualities than Lord Byron-to be more safely followed, or more tenderly beloved; but there lives no man on earth whose sudden departure from it, under the circumstances in which that nobleman was cut off, appears to us more calculated to impress the mind with profound and unmingled mourning. Lord Byron was doomed to pay that price which Nature sometimes charges for stupendous intellect, in the gloom of his imagination, and the intractable energy of his passions. Amazing power variously directed, was the mark by which he was distinguished far above all his contemporaries. His dominion was the sublime it was his

native home; at intervals he plunged into the lower atmosphere for amusement, but his stay was brief. It was his proper nature to ascend; but on the summit of his elevation, his leading passion was to evince his superiority, by launching his melancholy scorn at mankind. That noblest of enterprises, the deliverance of Greece, employed the whole of Lord Byron's latter days of his pecuniary resources, and of his masculine spirit. It was a cause worthy of a poet and a hero; and it is consolatory to find, that the people for whom he would have devoted his life, seem to have felt the full value of The his exertions and his sacrifices. affectionate veneration in which our deceased countryman was held, appears as well from the private letter of Maurocordato, as from the deep and universal mourning which was observed at Missolonghi from the hour at which his death was made public. Had he but died in battle against slaves and infidels, for a Christian people struggling to be free, his own fame would have received its full consummation, and his wishes, as is well understood, their complete fulfilment.

[FROM THE MORNING CHRONICLE.] THUS has perished, in the flower of his age, in the noblest of causes, one of the greatest poets England ever produced. His death, at this moment, is, no doubt, a severe misfortune to the struggling people for whom he has so generously devoted himself. His character we shall not attempt to draw. He 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 an inspired writer, and certainly it may be said that the gift of riches is an unfortunate one for the possessor. The aim which men, who are not born to wealth, have constantly before them, gives a relish to existence to which the hereditarily opulent must ever be strangers. Gratifications of every kind soon lose their attraction, the game of life is played without interest, for that which can be obtained without effort is never highly prized. It is fortunate for the great when they can escape from themselves into some pursuit, which, by firing their ambition, gives a stimulus to their active powers. We rejoiced to see Lord Byron engaged in a cause which afforded such motives for exertions, and we anticipated from him many days of glory.— But it has been otherwise decreed.

[FROM THE MORNING HERALD.]

A DEEPLY mournful sensation was excited by the intelligence of the death of Lord Byron. Thus has the poetical literature of England lost one of its brightest ornaments, and the age decidedly its finest genius. Much of the notice which he attracted, and the ascendency which he obtained, is no doubt attributable to certain singularities in his temper and character, and even in the events of his life. But the vulgar only were swayed by his eccentricity. The prodigious splendour of his genius won admiration from the liberal, the learned, and the wise. There is scarcely any instance of poetical power of the first order displayed under such a variety of forms. His early poems certainly gave no promise of his future greatness. But their feebleness was, perhaps, a happy circumstance-it provoked a memorable criticism, which, in its turn, met with a severer and more memorable retaliation. Lord Byron vented his resentment in the satire. In the poem of Childe Harold, which soon followed, he vindicated the supremacy of his genius. It is in this poem, and the shorter poems, turning chiefly upon oriental scenes and circumstances, that Lord Byron is distinctively himself. He displayed, it is true, astonishing versatility as he advanced. He entered the domain of Italian and of the more modern German poetry-not as an imitator, but as a rival. It is hardly safe or discreet to speak of Don Juan, that truant offspring of Lord Byron's muse. It may be said, however, that with all its sins, the copiousness and flexibility of the English language were never before so triumphantly approved-that the same compass of talent" the grave, the gay, the great, the small," comic force, humour, metaphysics, and observation, boundless fancy and ethereal beauty, and curious knowledge, curiously applied, have never been blended with the same felicity in any other poem. It would be easy to dwell upon some vices of taste-for it is with those only that we have to do but they are not to be thought of at a moment when England has lost her first poet, not yet arrived at the meridian of his life-perhaps not even of his genius-one who might yet have atoned to his country and to literature for the errors of his youth, by producing works which would place his name incontestibly still nearer those of Milton and Shakspeare, by no longer affording a pretext to cant and cavil, and interested sycophancy.

[FROM THE BRITISH PRESS.] THE death of Lord Byron, is an event which we little expected to record. It falls on the public ear like a shock of deep, private misfortune. He has sunk to rest in the prime of his days, and in the zenith of his fame; he has left the world when his services could ill be spared, and we may add with truth, when they cannot be supplied. A more calamitous event could not have happened to Greece; all his aid, personal and pecuniary-all the energies of his body and of his mind, were put forth for the restoration of her freedom; to her cause his loss is irreparable. Lord Byron's genius was of the very first order: he was one of those characters from whose existence new eras date their commencement: that fresh career of society which is beginning in Europe wanted the stimulus of a mind like his, to carry it onward to happiness and to glory: he was no lover of revolutions; he looked only to the improvement of which the political condition of mankind was capable, by the diffusion of knowledge, and the just estimate of independence. It was with these views that he aided Greece to the utmost of his means, to rescue herself from the claims of her oppressor, and rise again to life and liberty. We are not yet sufficiently recovered from the painful feelings with which the sudden intelligence of his death has impressed us, to enter into any detail of observation on his genius as a poet, or his character as a man. Now that his days are numbered, the world will do justice to both.

[FROM THE STAR.]

IT is with much regret we have to announce the death of that wayward, but highly-gifted genius, Lord Byron, which took place at Missolonghi, on the 19th ultimo. "There is a tear for all that die," as this noble poet observes in his elegy on the death of one of his friends; and whatever may have been his errors, he must be a rigid moralist indeed, who does not breathe a sigh for the fate of a poet, who, possessing talents of a transcendent nature, has perished in devoting them to the emancipation of Greece-for in this cause he has fallen, and deeply indeed will his loss be felt.

Although it would be impossible to defend some of the recent publications of Lord Byron, yet to us his failings always rather appeared those of education, and a yielding to the immediate society in which he mingled, than errors of the heart; and there are many acts of his, which not only do honour to his rank in life, but to humanity. His memory will, however,