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Title: The Works of Lord Byron. Vol. 2

Author: Baron George Gordon Byron Byron

Editor: Ernest Hartley Coleridge

Release date: May 5, 2008 [eBook #25340]
Most recently updated: January 3, 2021

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE WORKS OF
LORD BYRON. VOL. 2 ***

T h e Wo r k s
OF

LORD BYRON .

A NEW, REVISED AND ENLARGED EDITION,
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS.

P o e t r y. Vo l . I I .

EDITED BY

ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE, M.A.,
H O N . F. R . S . L .

LONDON:

J O H N M U R R AY, A L B E M A R L E S T R E E T.
NEW YORK: CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS.

1899.

TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES

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An important feature of this edition is its copious notes, which are of
three types. Notes indexed with both a number and a letter, for example
[4.B.], are end-notes provided by Byron or, following Canto IV, by J. C.
Hobhouse. These end-notes follow each Canto.

Both the verse and the end-notes have footnotes, which are indicated by
small raised keys in brackets; these are links to the footnote's text.
Footnotes indexed with arabic numbers (e.g. [17], [221]) are informational.
Footnotes indexed with letters (e.g. [c], [bf]) document variant forms of the
text from manuscripts and other sources.

In the original, footnotes were printed at the foot of the page on which
they were referenced, and their indices started over on each page. In this
etext, footnotes have been collected following each canto or block of end-
notes, and have been numbered consecutively throughout. Text in footnotes
and end-notes in square brackets is the work of Editor E. H. Coleridge. Text
not in brackets is by Byron or Hobhouse. In certain notes on variant text,
the editor showed deleted text struck through with lines, for example
deleted words.

Navigation aids are provided as follows. Page numbers are displayed at
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either search for [xx] or append #Footnote_xx to the document URL.

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PREFACE TO THE SECOND VOLUME.
T he text of the present edition of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage is based upon
a collation of volume i. of the Library Edition, 1855, with the following
MSS.: (i.) the original MS. of the First and Second Cantos, in Byron's
handwriting [MS. M.]; (ii.) a transcript of the First and Second Cantos, in
the handwriting of R. C. Dallas [D.]; (iii.) a transcript of the Third Canto, in
the handwriting of Clara Jane Clairmont [C.]; (iv.) a collection of "scraps,"
forming a first draft of the Third Canto, in Byron's handwriting [MS.]; (v.) a
fair copy of the first draft of the Fourth Canto, together with the MS. of the
additional stanzas, in Byron's handwriting. [MS. M.]; (vi.) a second fair
copy of the Fourth Canto, as completed, in Byron's handwriting [D.].

The text of the First and Second Cantos has also been collated with the
text of the First Edition of the First and Second Cantos (quarto, 1812); the
text of the Third and of the Fourth Cantos with the texts of the First
Editions of 1816 and 1818 respectively; and the text of the entire poem with
that issued in the collected editions of 1831 and 1832.

Considerations of space have determined the position and arrangement
of the notes.

Byron's notes to the First, Second, and Third Cantos, and Hobhouse's
notes to the Fourth Canto are printed, according to precedent, at the end of
each canto.

Editorial notes are placed in square brackets. Notes illustrative of the
text are printed immediately below the variants. Notes illustrative of
Byron's notes or footnotes are appended to the originals or printed as

footnotes. Byron's own notes to the Fourth Canto are printed as footnotes to
the text.

Hobhouse's "Historical Notes" are reprinted without addition or
comment; but the numerous and intricate references to classical, historical,
and archæological authorities have been carefully verified, and in many
instances rewritten.

In compiling the Introductions, the additional notes, and footnotes, I
have endeavoured to supply the reader with a compendious manual of
reference. With the subject-matter of large portions of the three distinct
poems which make up the five hundred stanzas of Childe Harold's
Pilgrimage every one is more or less familiar, but details and particulars are
out of the immediate reach of even the most cultivated readers.

The poem may be dealt with in two ways. It may be regarded as a
repertory or treasury of brilliant passages for selection and quotation; or it
may be read continuously, and with some attention to the style and message
of the author. It is in the belief that Childe Harold should be read
continuously, and that it gains by the closest study, reassuming its original
freshness and splendour, that the text as well as Byron's own notes have
been somewhat minutely annotated.

In the selection and composition of the notes I have, in addition to other
authorities, consulted and made use of the following editions of Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage:—

i. Édition Classique, par James Darmesteter, Docteur-ès-lettres. Paris,
1882.

ii. Byron's Childe Harold, edited, with Introduction and Notes, by H. F.
Tozer, M.A. Oxford, 1885 (Clarendon Press Series).

iii. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, edited by the Rev. E.C. Everard Owen,
M.A. London, 1897 (Arnold's British Classics).

Particular acknowledgments of my indebtedness to these admirable
works will be found throughout the volume.

I have consulted and derived assistance from Professor Eugen Kölbing's
exhaustive collation of the text of the two first cantos with the Dallas
Transcript in the British Museum (Zur Textüberlieferung von Byron's Childe
Harold, Cantos I., II. Leipsic, 1896); and I am indebted to the same high
authority for information with regard to the Seventh Edition (1814) of the
First and Second Cantos. (See Bemerkungen zu Byron's Childe Harold,
Engl. Stud., 1896, xxi. 176-186.)

I have again to record my grateful acknowledgments to Dr. Richard
Garnett, C.B., Dr. A. S. Murray, F.R.S., Mr. R. E. Graves, Mr. E. D. Butler,
F.R.G.S., and other officials of the British Museum, for constant help and
encouragement in the preparation of the notes to Childe Harold.

I desire to express my thanks to Dr. H. R. Mill, Librarian of the Royal
Geographical Society; Mr. J. C. Baker, F.R.S., Keeper of the Herbarium and
Library of the Royal Botanic Gardens, Kew; Mr. Horatio F. Brown (author
of Venice, an Historical Sketch, etc.); Mr. P. A. Daniel, Mr. Richard
Edgcumbe, and others, for valuable information on various points of doubt
and difficulty.

On behalf of the Publisher, I beg to acknowledge the kindness of his
Grace the Duke of Richmond, in permitting Cosway's miniature of
Charlotte Duchess of Richmond to be reproduced for this volume.

I have also to thank Mr. Horatio F. Brown for the right to reproduce the
interesting portrait of "Byron at Venice," which is now in his possession.

ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE.

April, 1899.

INTRODUCTION TO
THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS OF
CHILDE HAROLD.
T he First Canto of Childe Harold was begun at Janina, in Albania, October
31, 1809, and the Second Canto was finished at Smyrna, March 28, 1810.
The dates were duly recorded on the MS.; but in none of the letters which
Byron wrote to his mother and his friends from the East does he mention or
allude to the composition or existence of such a work. In one letter,
however, to his mother (January 14, 1811, Letters, 1898, i. 308), he informs
her that he has MSS. in his possession which may serve to prolong his
memory, if his heirs and executors "think proper to publish them;" but for
himself, he has "done with authorship." Three months later the achievement
of Hints from Horace and The Curse of Minerva persuaded him to give
"authorship" another trial; and, in a letter written on board the Volage
frigate (June 28, Letters, 1898, i. 313), he announces to his literary Mentor,
R. C. Dallas, who had superintended the publication of English Bards, and
Scotch Reviewers, that he has "an imitation of the Ars Poetica of Horace
ready for Cawthorne." Byron landed in England on July 2, and on the 15th
Dallas "had the pleasure of shaking hands with him at Reddish's Hotel, St.
James's Street" (Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron, 1824, p. 103).
There was a crowd of visitors, says Dallas, and no time for conversation;
but the Imitation was placed in his hands. He took it home, read it, and was
disappointed. Disparagement was out of the question; but the next morning
at breakfast Dallas ventured to express some surprise that he had written
nothing else. An admission or confession followed that "he had
occasionally written short poems, besides a great many stanzas in Spenser's

measure, relative to the countries he had visited." "They are not," he added,
"worth troubling you with, but you shall have them all with you if you like."
"So," says Dallas, "came I by Childe Harold. He took it from a small trunk,
with a number of verses."

Dallas was "delighted," and on the evening of the same day (July 16)—
before, let us hope, and not after, he had consulted his "Ionian friend,"
Walter Rodwell Wright (see Recollections, p. 151, and Diary of H.C.
Robinson, 1872, i. 17)—he despatched a letter of enthusiastic approval,
which gratified Byron, but did not convince him of the extraordinary merit
of his work, or of its certainty of success. It was, however, agreed that the
MS. should be left with Dallas, that he should arrange for its publication
and hold the copyright. Dallas would have entrusted the poem to
Cawthorne, who had published English Bards, and Scotch Reviewers, and
with whom, as Byron's intermediary, he was in communication; but Byron
objected on the ground that the firm did not "stand high enough in the
trade," and Longmans, who had been offered but had declined the English
Bards, were in no case to be approached. An application to Miller, of
Albemarle Street, came to nothing, because Miller was Lord Elgin's
bookseller and publisher (he had just brought out the Memorandum on Lord
Elgin's Pursuits in Greece), and Childe Harold denounced and reviled Lord
Elgin. But Murray, of Fleet Street, who had already expressed a wish to
publish for Lord Byron, was willing to take the matter into consideration.
On the first of August Byron lost his mother, on the third his friend
Matthews was drowned in the Cam, and for some weeks he could devote
neither time nor thought to the fortunes of his poem; but Dallas had
bestirred himself, and on the eighteenth was able to report that he had "seen
Murray again," and that Murray was anxious that Byron's name should
appear on the title-page.

To this request Byron somewhat reluctantly acceded (August 21); and a
few days later (August 25) he informs Dallas that he has sent him
"exordiums, annotations, etc., for the forthcoming quarto," and has written

to Murray, urging him on no account to show the MS. to Juvenal, that is,
Gifford. But Gifford, as a matter of course, had been already consulted, had
read the First Canto, and had advised Murray to publish the poem. Byron
was, or pretended to be, furious; but the solid fact that Gifford had
commended his work acted like a charm, and his fury subsided. On the fifth
of September (Letters, 1898, ii. 24, note) he received from Murray the first
proof, and by December 14 "the Pilgrimage was concluded," and all but the
preface had been printed and seen through the press.

The original draft of the poem, which Byron took out of "the little trunk"
and gave to Dallas, had undergone considerable alterations and
modifications before this date. Both Dallas and Murray took exception to
certain stanzas which, on personal, or patriotic, or religious considerations,
were provocative and objectionable. They were apprehensive, not only for
the sale of the book, but for the reputation of its author. Byron fought his
ground inch by inch, but finally assented to a compromise. He was willing
to cut out three stanzas on the Convention of Cintra, which had ceased to be
a burning question, and four more stanzas at the end of the First Canto,
which reflected on the Duke of Wellington, Lord Holland, and other persons
of less note. A stanza on Beckford in the First Canto, and two stanzas in the
second on Lord Elgin, Thomas Hope, and the "Dilettanti crew," were also
omitted. Stanza ix. of the Second Canto, on the immortality of the soul, was
recast, and "sure and certain" hopelessness exchanged for a pious, if
hypothetical, aspiration. But with regard to the general tenor of his politics
and metaphysics, Byron stood firm, and awaited the issue.

There were additions as well as omissions. The first stanza of the First
Canto, stanzas xliii. and xc., which celebrate the battles of Albuera and
Talavera; the stanzas to the memory of Charles Skinner Matthews, nos. xci.,
xcii.; and stanzas ix., xcv.,xcvi. of the Second Canto, which record Byron's
grief for the death of an unknown lover or friend, apparently (letter to
Dallas, October 31, 1811) the mysterious Thyrza, and others (vide post, note
on the MSS. of the First and Second Cantos of Childe Harold), were

composed at Newstead, in the autumn of 1811. Childe Harold's Pilgrimage,
quarto, was published on Tuesday, March 10, 1812—Moore (Life, p. 157)
implies that the date of issue was Saturday, February 29; and Dallas
(Recollections, p. 220) says that he obtained a copy on Tuesday, March 3
(but see advertisements in the Times and Morning Chronicle of Thursday,
March 5, announcing future publication, and in the Courier and Morning
Chronicle of Tuesday, March 10, announcing first appearance)—and in
three days an edition of five hundred copies was sold. A second edition,
octavo, with six additional poems (fourteen poems were included in the
First Edition), was issued on April 17; a third on June 27; a fourth, with the
"Addition to the Preface," on September 14; and a fifth on December 5,
1812,—the day on which Murray "acquainted his friends" (see
advertisement in the Morning Chronicle) that he had removed from Fleet
Street to No. 50, Albemarle Street. A sixth edition, identical with the fifth
and fourth editions, was issued August 11, 1813; and, on February 1, 1814
(see letter to Murray, February 4, 1814), Childe Harold made a "seventh
appearance." The seventh edition was a new departure altogether. Not only
were nine poems added to the twenty already published, but a dedication to
Lady Charlotte Harley ("Ianthe"), written in the autumn of 1812, was
prefixed to the First Canto, and ten additional stanzas were inserted towards
the end of the Second Canto. Childe Harold, as we have it, differs to that
extent from the Childe Harold which, in a day and a night, made Byron
"famous." The dedication to Ianthe was the outcome of a visit to Eywood,
and his devotion to Ianthe's mother, Lady Oxford; but the new stanzas were
probably written in 1810. In a letter to Dallas, September 7, 1811 (Letters,
1898, ii. 28), he writes, "I had projected an additional canto when I was in
the Troad and Constantinople, and if I saw them again, it would go on."
This seems to imply that a beginning had been made. In a poem, a hitherto
unpublished fragment entitled Il Diavolo Inamorato (vide post, vol. iii.),
which is dated August 31, 1812, five stanzas and a half, viz. stanzas lxxiii.
lines 5-9, lxxix., lxxx., lxxxi., lxxxii., xxvii. of the Second Canto of Childe
Harold are imbedded; and these form part of the ten additional stanzas

which were first published in the seventh edition. There is, too, the
fragment entitled The Monk of Athos, which was first published (Life of
Lord Byron, by the Hon. Roden Noel) in 1890, which may have formed part
of this projected Third Canto.

No further alterations were made in the text of the poem; but an eleventh
edition of Childe Harold, Cantos I., II., was published in 1819.

The demerits of Childe Harold lie on the surface; but it is difficult for
the modern reader, familiar with the sight, if not the texture, of "the purple
patches," and unattracted, perhaps demagnetized, by a personality once
fascinating and always "puissant," to appreciate the actual worth and
magnitude of the poem. We are "o'er informed;" and as with Nature, so with
Art, the eye must be couched, and the film of association removed, before
we can see clearly. But there is one characteristic feature of Childe Harold
which association and familiarity have been powerless to veil or confuse—
originality of design. "By what accident," asks the Quarterly Reviewer
(George Agar Ellis), "has it happened that no other English poet before
Lord Byron has thought fit to employ his talents on a subject so well suited
to their display?" The question can only be answered by the assertion that it
was the accident of genius which inspired the poet with a "new song."
Childe Harold's Pilgrimage had no progenitors, and, with the exception of
some feeble and forgotten imitations, it has had no descendants. The
materials of the poem; the Spenserian stanza, suggested, perhaps, by
Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming, as well as by older models; the language,
the metaphors, often appropriated and sometimes stolen from the Bible,
from Shakespeare, from the classics; the sentiments and reflections coeval
with reflection and sentiment, wear a familiar hue; but the poem itself, a
pilgrimage to scenes and cities of renown, a song of travel, a rhythmical
diorama, was Byron's own handiwork—not an inheritance, but a creation.

But what of the eponymous hero, the sated and melancholy "Childe,"
with his attendant page and yeoman, his backward glances on "heartless

parasites," on "laughing dames," on goblets and other properties of "the
monastic dome"? Is Childe Harold Byron masquerading in disguise, or is he
intended to be a fictitious personage, who, half unconsciously, reveals the
author's personality? Byron deals with the question in a letter to Dallas
(October 31): "I by no means intend to identify myself with Harold, but to
deny all connection with him. If in parts I may be thought to have drawn
from myself, believe me it is but in parts, and I shall not own even to that."
He adds, with evident sincerity, "I would not be such a fellow as I have
made my hero for all the world." Again, in the preface, "Harold is the child
of imagination." This pronouncement was not the whole truth; but it is truer
than it seems. He was well aware that Byron had sate for the portrait of
Childe Harold. He had begun by calling his hero Childe Burun, and the few
particulars which he gives of Childe Burun's past were particulars, in the
main exact particulars, of Byron's own history. He had no motive for
concealment, for, so little did he know himself, he imagined that he was not
writing for publication, that he had done with authorship. Even when the
mood had passed, it was the imitation of the Ars Poetica, not Childe
Harold, which he was eager to publish; and when Childe Harold had been
offered to and accepted by a publisher, he desired and proposed that it
should appear anonymously. He had not as yet come to the pass of
displaying "the pageant of his bleeding heart" before the eyes of the
multitude. But though he shrank from the obvious and inevitable conclusion
that Childe Harold was Byron in disguise, and idly "disclaimed" all
connection, it was true that he had intended to draw a fictitious character, a
being whom he may have feared he might one day become, but whom he
did not recognize as himself. He was not sated, he was not cheerless, he was
not unamiable. He was all a-quiver with youth and enthusiasm and the joy
of great living. He had left behind him friends whom he knew were not "the
flatterers of the festal hour"—friends whom he returned to mourn and nobly
celebrate. Byron was not Harold, but Harold was an ideal Byron, the
creature and avenger of his pride, which haunted and pursued its
presumptuous creator to the bitter end.

Childe Harold's Pilgrimage was reviewed, or rather advertised, by
Dallas, in the Literary Panorama for March, 1812. To the reviewer's
dismay, the article, which appeared before the poem was out, was shown to
Byron, who was paying a short visit to his old friends at Harrow. Dallas
quaked, but "as it proved no bad advertisement," he escaped censure. "The
blunder passed unobserved, eclipsed by the dazzling brilliancy of the object
which had caused it" (Recollections, p. 221).

Of the greater reviews, the Quarterly (No. xiii., March, 1812) was
published on May 12, and the Edinburgh (No. 38, June, 1812) was
published on August 5, 1812.

NOTES ON THE MSS. OF
CHILDE HAROLD.
I.
T he original MS. of the First and Second Cantos of Childe Harold,
consisting of ninety-one folios bound up with a single bluish-grey cover, is
in the possession of Mr. Murray.[1] A transcript from this MS., in the
handwriting of R. C. Dallas, with Byron's autograph corrections, is
preserved in the British Museum (Egerton MSS., No. 2027). The first
edition (4to) was printed from the transcript as emended by the author. The
"Addition to the Preface" was first published in the Fourth Edition.

The following notes in Byron's handwriting are on the outside of the
cover of the original MS.:—
"Byron—Joannina in Albania
Begun Oct. 31st. 1809.
Concluded, Canto 2d, Smyrna,
March 28th, 1810. BYRON.

The marginal remarks pencilled occasionally were made by two friends who
saw the thing in MS. sometime previous to publication. 1812."

On the verso of the single bluish-grey cover, the lines, "Dear Object of
Defeated Care," have been inscribed. They are entitled, "Written beneath
the picture of J. U. D." They are dated, "Byron, Athens, 1811."

The following notes and memoranda have been bound up with the MS.:
—

"Henry Drury, Harrow. Given me by Lord Byron. Being his original
autograph MS. of the first canto of Childe Harold, commenced at Joannina in
Albania, proceeded with at Athens, and completed at Smyrna."

"How strange that he did not seem to know that the volume contains Cantos
I., II., and so written by Ld. B.!" [Note by J. Murray.]

"S ir ,—I desire that you will settle any account for Childe Harold with Mr. R.
C. Dallas, to whom I have presented the copyright.

Yr. obedt. Servt.,
BYRON.
To Mr. John Murray,
Bookseller,
32, Fleet Street,
London, Mar. 17, 1812."

"Received, April 1st, 1812, of Mr. John Murray, the sum of one hundred
pounds 15/8, being my entire half-share of the profits of the 1st Edition of Childe
Harold's Pilgrimage 4to.

R. C. DALLAS.

Mem.: This receipt is for the above
sum, in part of five hundred guineas
£101:15:8.agreed to be paid by Mr. Murray for the
Copyright of Childe Harold's
Pilgrimage."

The following poems are appended to the MS. of the First and Second
Cantos of Childe Harold:—

1. "Written at Mrs. Spencer Smith's request, in her memorandum-book—

"'As o'er the cold sepulchral stone.'"

2. "Stanzas written in passing the Ambracian Gulph, November 14,
1809."

3. "Written at Athens, January 16th, 1810—

"'The spell is broke, the charm is flown.'"

4. "Stanzas composed October 11, 1809, during the night in a
thunderstorm, when the guides had lost the road to Zitza, in the range of
mountains formerly called Pindus, in Albania."

On a blank leaf bound up with the MS. at the end of the volume, Byron
wrote—

"Dear Ds.,—This is all that was contained in the MS., but the outside cover
has been torn off by the booby of a binder.

Yours ever,

B."

The volume is bound in smooth green morocco, bordered by a single gilt
line. "MS." in gilt lettering is stamped on the side cover.

II.

C ollation of F irst E dition , Q uarto , 1812,
with MS. of the F irst C anto .

The MS. numbers ninety-one stanzas, the First Edition ninety-three
stanzas.

O missions from the MS.
Stanza vii. "Of all his train there was a henchman page,"—
Stanza viii. "Him and one yeoman only did he take,"—
Stanza xxii. "Unhappy Vathek! in an evil hour,"—
Stanza xxv. "In golden characters right well designed,"—
Stanza xxvii. "But when Convention sent his handy work,"—
Stanza xxviii. "Thus unto Heaven appealed the people: Heaven,"—

Stanza lxxxviii. "There may you read with spectacles on eyes,"—
Stanza lxxxix. "There may you read—Oh, Phoebus, save Sir John,"—
Stanza xc. "Yet here of Vulpes mention may be made,"—

I nsertions in the F irst E dition .
Stanza i. "Oh, thou! in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,"—
Stanza viii. "Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood,"—
Stanza ix. "And none did love him!—though to hall and bower,"—
Stanza xliii. "Oh, Albuera! glorious field of grief!"—
Stanza lxxxv. "Adieu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu!"—
Stanza lxxxvi. "Such be the sons of Spain, and strange her Fate,"—
Stanza lxxxviii. "Flows there a tear of Pity for the dead?"—
Stanza lxxxix. "Not yet, alas! the dreadful work is done,"—
Stanza xc. "Not all the blood at Talavera shed,"—
Stanza xci. "And thou, my friend!—since unavailing woe,"—
Stanza xcii. "Oh, known the earliest, and esteemed the most,"—

The MS. of the Second Canto numbers eighty stanzas; the First Edition
numbers eighty-eight stanzas.

O missions from the MS.
Stanza viii. "Frown not upon me, churlish Priest! that I,"—
Stanza xiv. "Come, then, ye classic Thieves of each degree,"—
Stanza xv. "Or will the gentle Dilettanti crew,"—
Stanza lxiii. "Childe Harold with that Chief held colloquy,"—

I nsertions in the F irst E dition .
Stanza viii. "Yet if, as holiest men have deemed, there be,"—
Stanza ix. "There, Thou! whose Love and Life together fled,"—
Stanza xv. "Cold is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on Thee,"—
Stanza lii. "Oh! where, Dodona! is thine agéd Grove?"—
Stanza lxiii. "Mid many things most new to ear and eye,"—
Stanza lxxx. "Where'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground,"—
Stanza lxxxiii. "Let such approach this consecrated Land,"—

Stanza lxxxiv. "For thee, who thus in too protracted song,"—
Stanza lxxxv. "Thou too art gone, thou loved and lovely one!"—
Stanza lxxxvii. "Then must I plunge again into the crowd,"—
Stanza lxxxviii. "What is the worst of woes that wait on Age?"—
Stanza lxxxvi. "Oh! ever loving, lovely, and beloved!"—
Stanza lxxxvii. "Then must I plunge again into the crowd,"—
Stanza lxxxviii. "What is the worst of woes that wait on Age?"—

A dditions to the S eventh E dition , 1814.

The Second Canto, in the first six editions, numbers eighty-eight stanzas;
in the Seventh Edition the Second Canto numbers ninety-eight stanzas.

A dditions .
The Dedication, To Ianthe.
Stanza xxvii. "More blest the life of godly Eremite,"—
Stanza lxxvii. "The city won for Allah from the Giaour,"—
Stanza lxxviii. "Yet mark their mirth, ere Lenten days begin,"—
Stanza lxxix. "And whose more rife with merriment than thine,"—
Stanza lxxx. "Loud was the lightsome tumult on the shore,"—
Stanza lxxxi. "Glanced many a light Caique along the foam,"—
Stanza lxxxii. "But, midst the throng' in merry masquerade,"—
Stanza lxxxiii. "This must he feel, the true-born son of Greece,"—
Stanza lxxxix. "The Sun, the soil—but not the slave, the same,"—
Stanza xc. "The flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow,"—

ITINERARY.
1809. C anto I.
July 2. Sail from Falmouth in Lisbon packet. (Stanza xii. Letter 125.)
July 6. Arrive Lisbon. (Stanzas xvi., xvii. Letter 126.) Visit Cintra.
(Stanzas xviii.-xxvi. Letter 128.) Visit Mafra. (Stanza xxix.)
July 17. Leave Lisbon. (Stanza xxviii. Letter 127.) Ride through
Portugal and Spain to Seville. (Stanzas xxviii.-xlii. Letter 127.)
Visit Albuera. (Stanza xliii.)
July 21. Arrive Seville. (Stanzas xlv., xlvi. Letters 127, 128.)
July 25. Leave Seville. Ride to Cadiz, across the Sierra Morena. (Stanza
li.) Cadiz. (Stanzas lxv.-lxxxiv. Letters 127, 128.)
C anto II.
Aug. 6. Arrive Gibraltar. (Letters 127, 128.)
Aug. 17. Sail from Gibraltar in Malta packet. (Stanzas xvii.-xxviii.)
Malta. (Stanzas xxix.-xxxv. Letter 130.)
Sept. 19. Sail from Malta in brig-of-war Spider. (Letter 131.)
Sept. 23. Between Cephalonia and Zante.
Sept. 26. Anchor off Patras.
Sept. 27. In the channel between Ithaca and the mainland. (Stanzas
xxxix.-xlii.)
Sept. 28. Anchor off Prevesa (7 p.m.). (Stanza xlv.)
Oct. 1. Leave Prevesa, arrive Salakhora (Salagoura).
Oct. 3. Leave Salakhora, arrive Arta.
Oct. 4. Leave Arta, arrive han St. Demetre (H. Dhimittrios).
Oct. 5. Arrive Janina. (Stanza xlvii. Letter 131.)
Oct. 8. Ride into the country. First day of Ramazan.

Oct. 11. Leave Janina, arrive Zitza ("Lines written during a
Thunderstorm"). (Stanzas xlviii.-li. Letter 131.)
Oct. 13. Leave Zitza, arrive Mossiani (Móseri).
Oct. 14. Leave Mossiani, arrive Delvinaki (Dhelvinaki). (Stanza liv.)
Oct. 15. Leave Delvinaki, arrive Libokhovo.
Oct. 17. Leave Libokhovo, arrive Cesarades (Kestourataes).
Oct. 18. Leave Cesarades, arrive Ereeneed (Irindi).
Oct. 19. Leave Ereeneed, arrive Tepeleni. (Stanzas lv.-lxi.)
Oct. 20. Reception by Ali Pacha. (Stanzas lxii.-lxiv.)
Oct. 23. Leave Tepeleni, arrive Locavo (Lacovon).
Oct. 24. Leave Locavo, arrive Delvinaki.
Oct. 25. Leave Delvinaki, arrive Zitza.
Oct. 26. Leave Zitza, arrive Janina.
Oct. 31. Byron begins the First Canto of Childe Harold.
Nov. 3. Leave Janina, arrive han St. Demetre.
Nov. 4. Leave han St. Demetre, arrive Arta.
Nov. 5. Leave Arta, arrive Salakhora.
Nov. 7. Leave Salakhora, arrive Prevesa.
Nov. 8. Sail from Prevesa, anchor off mainland near Parga. (Stanzas
lxvii., lxviii.)
Nov. 9. Leave Parga, and, returning by land, arrive Volondorako
(Valanidórakhon). (Stanza lxix.)
Nov. 10. Leave Volondorako, arrive Castrosikia (Kastrosykia).
Nov. 11. Leave Castrosikia, arrive Prevesa.
Nov. 13. Sail from Prevesa, anchor off Vonitsa.
Nov. 14. Sail from Vonitsa, arrive Lutraki (Loutráki). (Stanzas lxx.,
lxxii., Song "Tambourgi, Tambourgi;" stanza written in passing
the Ambracian Gulph. Letter 131.)
Nov. 15. Leave Lutraki, arrive Katúna.
Nov. 16. Leave Katúna, arrive Makalá (? Machalas).
1809.

Nov. 18. Leave Makalá, arrive Guriá.
Nov. 19. Leave Guriá, arrive Ætolikon.
Nov. 20. Leave Ætolikon, arrive Mesolonghi.
Nov. 23. Sail from Mesolonghi, arrive Patras.
Dec. 4. Leave Patras, sleep at Han on shore.
Dec. 5. Leave Han, arrive Vostitsa (Oegion).
Dec. 14. Sail from Vostitsa, arrive Larnáki (? Itea).
Dec. 15. Leave Larnáki (? Itea), arrive Chrysó.
Dec. 16. Visit Delphi, the Pythian Cave, and stream of Castaly. (Canto I.
stanza i.)
Dec. 17. Leave Chrysó, arrive Arakhova (Rhakova).
Dec. 18. Leave Arakhova, arrive Livadia (Livadhia).
Dec. 21. Leave Livadia, arrive Mazee (Mazi).
Dec. 22. Leave Mazee, arrive Thebes.
Dec. 24. Leave Thebes, arrive Skurta.
Dec. 25. Leave Skurta, pass Phyle, arrive Athens. (Stanzas i.-xv., stanza
lxxiv.)
Dec. 30. Byron finishes the First Canto of Childe Harold.
1810.
Jan. 13. Visit Eleusis.
Jan. 16. Visit Mendeli (Pentelicus). (Stanza lxxxvii.)
Jan. 18. Walk round the peninsula of Munychia.
Jan. 19. Leave Athens, arrive Vari.
Jan. 20. Leave Vari, arrive Keratéa.
Jan. 23. Visit temple of Athene at Sunium. (Stanza lxxxvi.)
Jan. 24. Leave Keratéa, arrive plain of Marathon.
Jan. 25. Visit plain of Marathon. (Stanzas lxxxix., xc.)
Jan. 26. Leave Marathon, arrive Athens.
Mar. 5. Leave Athens, embark on board the Pylades (Letter 136.)
Mar. 7. Arrive Smyrna. (Letters 132, 133.)

Mar. 13. Leave Smyrna, sleep at Han, near the river Halesus.
Mar. 14. Leave Han, arrive Aiasaluk (near Ephesus).
Mar. 15. Visit site of temple of Artemis at Ephesus. (Letter 132.)
Mar. 16. Leave Ephesus, return to Smyrna. (Letter 132.)
Mar. 28. Byron finishes the Second Canto of Childe Harold.
April 11. Sail from Smyrna in the Salsette frigate. (Letter 134.)
April 12. Anchor off Tenedos.
April 13. Visit ruins of Alexandria Troas.
April 14. Anchor off Cape Janissary.
April 16. Byron attempts to swim across the Hellespont, explores the
Troad. (Letters 135, 136.)
April 30. Visit the springs of Bunarbashi (Bunarbási).
May 1. Weigh anchor from off Cape Janissary, anchor eight miles from
Dardanelles.
May 2. Anchor off Castle Chanak Kalessia (Kale i Sultaniye).
May 3. Byron and Mr. Ekenhead swim across the Hellespont (lines
"Written after swimming," etc.).
May 13. Anchor off Venaglio Point, arrive Constantinople. (Stanzas
lxxvii.-lxxxii. Letters 138-145.)
July 14. Sail from Constantinople in Salsette frigate.
July 18. Byron returns to Athens.

N ote to "I tinerary ."

[For dates and names of towns and villages, see Travels in Albania, and
other Provinces of Turkey, in 1809 and 1810, by the Right Hon. Lord
Broughton, G.C.B. [John Cam Hobhouse], two volumes, 1858. The
orthography is based on that of Longmans' Gazetteer of the World, edited
by G. G. Chisholm, 1895. The alternative forms are taken from Heinrich
Kiepert's Carte de l'Épire et de la Thessalie, Berlin, 1897, and from Dr.
Karl Peucker's Griechenland, Wien, 1897.]

CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.
Preface to Vol. II. of the Poems v
Introduction to the First and Second Cantos ix
Notes on the MSS. of the First and Second Cantos xvi
Itinerary xxi
Preface to the First and Second Cantos 3
To Ianthe 11
C anto the F irst 15
Notes 85
C anto the S econd 97
Notes 165
Introduction to Canto the Third 211
C anto the T hird 215
Notes 291
Introduction to Canto the Fourth 311
Original Draft, etc., of Canto the Fourth 316
Dedication 321
C anto the F ourth 327
Historical Notes by J. C. Hobhouse 465

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
1. I anthe (L ady C harlotte H arley ), from
an E ngraving by W. F inden , after a
D rawing by R. W estall , R.A. Frontispiece
2. T he D uchess of R ichmond , from a
M iniature by R ichard C osway , in the
P ossession of H is G race the D uke of
R ichmond and G ordon , K.G. To face p. 228
3. P ortrait of L ord B yron at V enice , from
a P ainting in O ils by R uckard , in the
P ossession of H oratio F. B rown , E sq . 326
4. T he H orses of S t . M ark , from a
P hotograph by A linari 338
5. S. P antaleon , from a W oodcut
published at C remona in 1493 340
6. T he D ying G aul , from the O riginal in
the M useum of the C apitol 432

CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE

A ROMAUNT.
"L'univers est une espèce de livre, dont on n'a lu que la première page quand
on n'a vu que son pays. J'en ai feuilleté un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouvé
également mauvaises. Cet examen ne m'a point été infructueux. Je haïssais ma
patrie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi lesquels j'ai vécu,
m'ont reconcilié avec elle. Quand je n'aurais tiré d'autre bénéfice de mes voyages

que celui-là, je n'en regretterais ni les frais ni les fatigues."—Le Cosmopolite, ou,
le Citoyen du Monde, par Fougeret de Monbron. Londres, 1753.

PREFACE [a]
[TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS.]

T he following poem was written, for the most part, amidst the scenes which
it attempts[b] to describe. It was begun in Albania; and the parts relative to
Spain and Portugal were composed from the author's observations in those
countries. Thus much it may be necessary to state for the correctness of the
descriptions. The scenes attempted to be sketched are in Spain, Portugal,
Epirus, Acarnania and Greece. There, for the present, the poem stops: its
reception will determine whether the author may venture to conduct his
readers to the capital of the East, through Ionia and Phrygia: these two
cantos are merely experimental.

A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some
connection to the piece; which, however, makes no pretension to regularity.
It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose opinions I set a high
value,[c]—that in this fictitious character, "Childe Harold," I may incur the
suspicion of having intended some real personage: this I beg leave, once for
all, to disclaim—Harold is the child of imagination, for the purpose I have
stated.

In some very trivial particulars, and those merely local, there might be
grounds for such a notion;[d] but in the main points, I should hope, none
whatever.[e]

It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation "Childe,"[2] as
"Childe Waters," "Childe Childers," etc., is used as more consonant with the
old structure of versification which I have adopted. The "Good Night" in

the beginning of the first Canto, was suggested by Lord Maxwell's "Good
Night"[3] in the Border Minstrelsy, edited by Mr. Scott.

With the different poems[4] which have been published on Spanish
subjects, there may be found some slight coincidence[f] in the first part,
which treats of the Peninsula, but it can only be casual; as, with the
exception of a few concluding stanzas, the whole of the poem was written
in the Levant.

The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most successful poets,
admits of every variety. Dr. Beattie makes the following observation:—

"Not long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in
which I propose to give full scope to my inclination, and be either droll or
pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes
me; for, if I mistake not, the measure which I have adopted admits equally
of all these kinds of composition."[5] Strengthened in my opinion by such
authority, and by the example of some in the highest order of Italian poets, I
shall make no apology for attempts at similar variations in the following
composition;[g] satisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their failure must be
in the execution, rather than in the design sanctioned by the practice of
Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie.

London, February, 1812.

ADDITION TO THE PREFACE.

I have now waited till almost all our periodical journals have distributed
their usual portion of criticism. To the justice of the generality of their
criticisms I have nothing to object; it would ill become me to quarrel with
their very slight degree of censure, when, perhaps, if they had been less

kind they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, to all and each my
best thanks for their liberality, on one point alone I shall venture an
observation. Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very
indifferent character of the "vagrant Childe" (whom, notwithstanding many
hints to the contrary, I still maintain to be a fictitious personage), it has been
stated, that, besides the anachronism, he is very unknightly, as the times of
the Knights were times of Love, Honour, and so forth.[6] Now it so happens
that the good old times, when "l'amour du bon vieux tems, l'amour antique,"
flourished, were the most profligate of all possible centuries. Those who
have any doubts on this subject may consult Sainte-Palaye, passim, and
more particularly vol. ii. p. 69.[7] The vows of chivalry were no better kept
than any other vows whatsoever; and the songs of the Troubadours were not
more decent, and certainly were much less refined, than those of Ovid. The
"Cours d'Amour, parlemens d'amour, ou de courtoisie et de gentilesse" had
much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness. See Rolland[8] on the
same subject with Sainte-Palaye.

Whatever other objection may be urged to that most unamiable
personage Childe Harold, he was so far perfectly knightly in his attributes
—"No waiter, but a knight templar."[9] By the by, I fear that Sir Tristrem and
Sir Lancelot were no better than they should be, although very poetical
personages and true knights, "sans peur," though not "sans réproche." If the
story of the institution of the "Garter" be not a fable, the knights of that
order have for several centuries borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury,
of indifferent memory. So much for chivalry. Burke need not have regretted
that its days are over, though Marie-Antoinette was quite as chaste as most
of those in whose honour lances were shivered, and knights unhorsed.[10]

Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir Joseph Banks[11] (the
most chaste and celebrated of ancient and modern times) few exceptions
will be found to this statement; and I fear a little investigation will teach us
not to regret these monstrous mummeries of the middle ages.

I now leave "Childe Harold" to live his day such as he is; it had been
more agreeable, and certainly more easy, to have drawn an amiable
character. It had been easy to varnish over his faults, to make him do more
and express less, but he never was intended as an example, further than to
show, that early perversion of mind and morals leads to satiety of past
pleasures and disappointment in new ones, and that even the beauties of
nature and the stimulus of travel (except ambition, the most powerful of all
excitements) are lost on a soul so constituted, or rather misdirected. Had I
proceeded with the Poem, this character would have deepened as he drew to
the close; for the outline which I once meant to fill up for him was, with
some exceptions, the sketch of a modern Timon,[12] perhaps a poetical
Zeluco.[13]

CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE

CANTO THE FIRST.

TO IANTHE. [h] [14]

t in those climes where I have late been straying,
hough Beauty long hath there been matchless deemed,
Not in those visions to the heart displaying
orms which it sighs but to have only dreamed,

Hath aught like thee in Truth or Fancy seemed:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek
o paint those charms which varied as they beamed—
o such as see thee not my words were weak;
hose who gaze on thee what language could they speak?

may'st thou ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy Spring—
As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,
ove's image upon earth without his wing,[15]
And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!
And surely she who now so fondly rears
hy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,
eholds the Rainbow of her future years,
ore whose heavenly hues all Sorrow disappears.

ng Peri of the West!—'tis well for me
My years already doubly number thine;[16]
My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline;
Happier, that, while all younger hearts shall bleed,
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
o those whose admiration shall succeed,
mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreed.

let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's,
Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,[17]
Glance o'er this page, nor to my verse deny
hat smile for which my breast might vainly sigh
ould I to thee be ever more than friend:

his much, dear Maid, accord; nor question why
o one so young my strain I would commend,
bid me with my wreath one matchless Lily blend.

h is thy name[18] with this my verse entwined;
And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast[i]
On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrined
hall thus be first beheld, forgotten last:
My days once numbered—should this homage past
Attract thy fairy fingers near the Lyre
Of him who hailed thee loveliest, as thou wast—
uch is the most my Memory may desire;
ugh more than Hope can claim, could Friendship less require?[j]

CHILDE HAROLD'S
PILGRIMAGE.
A ROMAUNT.

CANTO THE FIRST.
I.[19]

thou! in Hellas deemed of heavenly birth,[k]
Muse! formed or fabled at the Minstrel's will!
ince shamed full oft by later lyres on earth,[l][20]
Mine dares not call thee from thy sacred Hill:
Yet there I've wandered by thy vaunted rill;[m]
Yes! sighed o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine, [1.B.]
Where, save that feeble fountain, all is still;
Nor mote my shell awake the weary Nine
grace so plain a tale—this lowly lay of mine.

II.

ilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth,
Who ne in Virtue's ways did take delight;
ut spent his days in riot most uncouth,
And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.
Ah me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,
ore given to revel and ungodly glee;[n]
ew earthly things found favour in his sight[o]
ave concubines and carnal companie,
d flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.[21]

III.

lde Harold was he hight:[22]—but whence his name[p]

And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
uffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
ut one sad losel soils a name for ay,[23]
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffined clay,
Nor florid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,[q]
blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

IV.

lde Harold basked him in the Noontide sun,[r]
Disporting there like any other fly;
Nor deemed before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
ut long ere scarce a third of his passed by,
Worse than Adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fulness of Satiety:
hen loathed he in his native land to dwell,
ich seemed to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell.

V.

he through Sin's long labyrinth had run,[s]
Nor made atonement when he did amiss,
Had sighed to many though he loved but one,[t][24]
And that loved one, alas! could ne'er be his.
Ah, happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss
Had been pollution unto aught so chaste;
Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss,
And spoiled her goodly lands to gild his waste,
calm domestic peace had ever deigned to taste.

VI.

d now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart,[u]
And from his fellow Bacchanals would flee;
Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start,
ut Pride congealed the drop within his ee:[25]
Apart he stalked in joyless reverie,[v]
And from his native land resolved to go,
And visit scorching climes beyond the sea;[26]
With pleasure drugged, he almost longed for woe,
d e'en for change of scene would seek the shades below.

VII.

Childe departed from his father's hall:
was a vast and venerable pile;
o old, it seeméd only not to fall,
Yet strength was pillared in each massy aisle.
Monastic dome! condemned to uses vile![w]
Where Superstition once had made her den
Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile;[x]
And monks might deem their time was come agen,[27]
ncient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.

VIII. [y]

oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood
trange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's brow,[z]
As if the Memory of some deadly feud
Or disappointed passion lurked below:
ut this none knew, nor haply cared to know;
or his was not that open, artless soul

hat feels relief by bidding sorrow flow,
Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole,
ate'er this grief mote be, which he could not control.

IX.[aa]

d none did love him!—though to hall and bower[28]
He gathered revellers from far and near,
He knew them flatterers of the festal hour,
he heartless Parasites of present cheer.
Yea! none did love him—not his lemans dear—[ab][29]
ut pomp and power alone are Woman's care,
And where these are light Eros finds a feere;[30]
Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
d Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.

X.

lde Harold had a mother—not forgot,[ac]
hough parting from that mother he did shun;
A sister whom he loved, but saw her not[31]
efore his weary pilgrimage begun:
friends he had, he bade adieu to none.[ad]
Yet deem not thence his breast a breast of steel:[ae][32]
Ye, who have known what 'tis to dote upon
A few dear objects, will in sadness feel
h partings break the heart they fondly hope to heal.

XI.

house, his home, his heritage, his lands,[af]
he laughing dames in whom he did delight,[ag]
Whose large blue eyes, fair locks, and snowy hands,

Might shake the Saintship of an Anchorite,
And long had fed his youthful appetite;
His goblets brimmed with every costly wine,
And all that mote to luxury invite,
Without a sigh he left, to cross the brine,
d traverse Paynim shores, and pass Earth's central line.[ah][33]

XII.

sails were filled, and fair the light winds blew,[ai]
As glad to waft him from his native home;
And fast the white rocks faded from his view,
And soon were lost in circumambient foam:
And then, it may be, of his wish to roam
epented he, but in his bosom slept[34]
he silent thought, nor from his lips did come
One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept,
d to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept.

XIII.

when the Sun was sinking in the sea
He seized his harp, which he at times could string,
And strike, albeit with untaught melody,
When deemed he no strange ear was listening:
And now his fingers o'er it he did fling,
And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight;
While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,
And fleeting shores receded from his sight,
s to the elements he poured his last "Good Night."[35]

CHILDE HAROLD'S GOOD NIGHT.

1.

"A dieu , adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;
The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar,
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native Land—Good Night!

2.

"A few short hours and He will rise
To give the Morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother Earth.
Deserted is my own good Hall,
Its hearth is desolate;
Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My Dog howls at the gate.

3.

"Come hither, hither, my little page[36]
Why dost thou weep and wail?
Or dost thou dread the billows' rage,
Or tremble at the gale?
But dash the tear-drop from thine eye;
Our ship is swift and strong:
Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly[aj]
More merrily along."[ak]

4.

"Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,[al]
I fear not wave nor wind:
Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I
Am sorrowful in mind;[37]
For I have from my father gone,
A mother whom I love,
And have no friend, save these alone,
But thee—and One above.

5.

'My father blessed me fervently,
Yet did not much complain;
But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again.'—
"Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,
Mine own would not be dry.

6.

"Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman,[38]
Why dost thou look so pale?
Or dost thou dread a French foeman?
Or shiver at the gale?"—
'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life?
Sir Childe, I'm not so weak;
But thinking on an absent wife
Will blanch a faithful cheek.

7.

'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall,
Along the bordering Lake,
And when they on their father call,
What answer shall she make?'—
"Enough, enough, my yeoman good,[am]
Thy grief let none gainsay;
But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.

8.

"For who would trust the seeming sighs[an]
Of wife or paramour?
Fresh feeres will dry the bright blue eyes
We late saw streaming o'er.
For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Nor perils gathering near;
My greatest grief is that I leave
No thing that claims a tear.[39]

9.

"And now I'm in the world alone,
Upon the wide, wide sea:
But why should I for others groan,
When none will sigh for me?
Perchance my Dog will whine in vain,
Till fed by stranger hands;
But long ere I come back again,
He'd tear me where he stands.[ao][40]

10.

"With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;
Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!
My native Land—Good Night!"

XIV.

on the vessel flies, the land is gone,
And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay.
our days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,
New shores descried make every bosom gay;
And Cintra's mountain[41] greets them on their way,
And Tagus dashing onward to the Deep,
His fabled golden tribute[42] bent to pay;
And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap,
d steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics reap.[ap]

XV.

Christ! it is a goodly sight to see
What Heaven hath done for this delicious land![aq]
What fruits of fragrance blush on every tree!
What goodly prospects o'er the hills expand!
ut man would mar them with an impious hand:
And when the Almighty lifts his fiercest scourge
Gainst those who most transgress his high command,
With treble vengeance will his hot shafts urge

l's locust host, and earth from fellest foemen purge[ar]

XVI.

at beauties doth Lisboa[43] first unfold![as]
Her image floating on that noble tide,
Which poets vainly pave with sands of gold,[at]
ut now whereon a thousand keels did ride
Of mighty strength, since Albion was allied,
And to the Lusians did her aid afford:
A nation swoln with ignorance and pride,[44]
Who lick yet loathe the hand that waves the sword[au]
ave them from the wrath of Gaul's unsparing lord.

XVII.

whoso entereth within this town,
hat, sheening far, celestial seems to be,
Disconsolate will wander up and down,
Mid many things unsightly to strange ee;[av]
or hut and palace show like filthily:[aw]
he dingy denizens are reared in dirt;[ax]
Ne personage of high or mean degree
Doth care for cleanness of surtout or shirt,
ugh shent with Egypt's plague, unkempt, unwashed, unhurt.

XVIII.

r, paltry slaves! yet born 'midst noblest scenes—
Why, Nature, waste thy wonders on such men?
o! Cintra's glorious Eden intervenes[45]
n variegated maze of mount and glen.
Ah, me! what hand can pencil guide, or pen,

o follow half on which the eye dilates
hrough views more dazzling unto mortal ken[ay]
han those whereof such things the Bard relates,
o to the awe-struck world unlocked Elysium's gates.

XIX.

horrid crags, by toppling convent crowned,[az]
he cork-trees hoar that clothe the shaggy steep,
he mountain-moss by scorching skies imbrowned,
he sunken glen, whose sunless shrubs must weep,
he tender azure[46] of the unruffled deep,
he orange tints that gild the greenest bough,
he torrents that from cliff to valley leap,[ba]
he vine on high, the willow branch below,
ed in one mighty scene, with varied beauty glow.

XX.

n slowly climb the many-winding way,
And frequent turn to linger as you go,
rom loftier rocks new loveliness survey,
And rest ye at "Our Lady's house of Woe;"[47] [2.B.]
Where frugal monks their little relics show,
And sundry legends to the stranger tell:
Here impious men have punished been, and lo!
Deep in yon cave Honorius long did dwell,
ope to merit Heaven by making earth a Hell.

XXI.

d here and there, as up the crags you spring,
Mark many rude-carved crosses near the path:[48]

Yet deem not these Devotion's offering—
hese are memorials frail of murderous wrath:
or wheresoe'er the shrieking victim hath
our'd forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife,
ome hand erects a cross of mouldering lath;
And grove and glen with thousand such are rife
oughout this purple land, where Law secures not life. [3.B.]

XXII.

sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath,[49]
Are domes where whilome kings did make repair;
ut now the wild flowers round them only breathe:
Yet ruined Splendour still is lingering there.
And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair:
here thou too, Vathek! England's wealthiest son,[bb][50]
Once formed thy Paradise, as not aware
When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath done,[bc]
ek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun.

XXIII.

e didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure plan,
eneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow:
ut now, as if a thing unblest by Man,[bd]
hy fairy dwelling is as lone as Thou!
Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow
o Halls deserted, portals gaping wide:
resh lessons to the thinking bosom, how
Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied;[be]
ept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide!

XXIV.

old the hall where chiefs were late convened! [4.B.]
Oh! dome displeasing unto British eye!
With diadem hight Foolscap, lo! a Fiend,
A little Fiend that scoffs incessantly,
here sits in parchment robe arrayed, and by[bf]
His side is hung a seal and sable scroll,
Where blazoned glare names known to chivalry,[bg]
And sundry signatures adorn the roll,[bh]
ereat the Urchin points and laughs with all his soul.[bi]

XXV.

vention is the dwarfish demon styled[51]
hat foiled the knights in Marialva's dome:
Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled,
And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom.
Here Folly dashed to earth the victor's plume,
And Policy regained what arms had lost:
or chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom!
Woe to the conquering, not the conquered host,
ce baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast.

XXVI.

d ever since that martial Synod met,
ritannia sickens, Cintra! at thy name;
And folks in office at the mention fret,[bj]
And fain would blush, if blush they could, for shame.
How will Posterity the deed proclaim!
Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer,
o view these champions cheated of their fame,
y foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here,

ere Scorn her finger points through many a coming year?

XXVII.

deemed the Childe, as o'er the mountains he
Did take his way in solitary guise:
weet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee,
More restless than the swallow in the skies:[bk]
hough here awhile he learned to moralise,
or Meditation fixed at times on him;
And conscious Reason whispered to despise
His early youth, misspent in maddest whim;
as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim.[52]

XXVIII.

horse! to horse! he quits, for ever quits[53]
A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul:[bl]
Again he rouses from his moping fits,
ut seeks not now the harlot and the bowl.[bm]
Onward he flies, nor fixed as yet the goal
Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage;
And o'er him many changing scenes must roll
re toil his thirst for travel can assuage,[bn]
he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage.

XXIX.

Mafra shall one moment claim delay, [5.B.]
Where dwelt of yore the Lusians' luckless queen;[bo][54]
And Church and Court did mingle their array,
And Mass and revel were alternate seen;
ordlings and freres—ill-sorted fry I ween!

ut here the Babylonian Whore hath built
A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious sheen,
hat men forget the blood which she hath spilt,
d bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt.

XXX.

r vales that teem with fruits, romantic hills,
Oh, that such hills upheld a freeborn race!)
Whereon to gaze the eye with joyaunce fills,
hilde Harold wends through many a pleasant place.[bp]
hough sluggards deem it but a foolish chase,
And marvel men should quit their easy chair,
he toilsome way, and long, long league to trace,
Oh! there is sweetness in the mountain air,
d Life, that bloated Ease can never hope to share.

XXXI.

re bleak to view the hills at length recede,
And, less luxuriant, smoother vales extend:[bq]
mmense horizon-bounded plains succeed!
ar as the eye discerns, withouten end,
pain's realms appear whereon her shepherds tend
locks, whose rich fleece right well the trader knows—
Now must the Pastor's arm his lambs defend:
or Spain is compassed by unyielding foes,
d all must shield their all, or share Subjection's woes.

XXXII.

ere Lusitania and her Sister meet,
Deem ye what bounds the rival realms divide?[br]

Or ere the jealous Queens of Nations greet,
Doth Tayo interpose his mighty tide?
Or dark Sierras rise in craggy pride?
Or fence of art, like China's vasty wall?—
Ne barrier wall, ne river deep and wide,
Ne horrid crags, nor mountains dark and tall,
e like the rocks that part Hispania's land from Gaul:[55]

XXXIII.

these between a silver streamlet[56] glides,
And scarce a name distinguisheth the brook,
hough rival kingdoms press its verdant sides:
Here leans the idle shepherd on his crook,
And vacant on the rippling waves doth look,
hat peaceful still 'twixt bitterest foemen flow;
or proud each peasant as the noblest duke:
Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know
ixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low. [6.B.]

XXXIV.

ere the mingling bounds have far been passed,[bs]
Dark Guadiana rolls his power along
n sullen billows, murmuring and vast,
o noted ancient roundelays among.[bt]
Whilome upon his banks did legions throng
Of Moor and Knight, in mailéd splendour drest:
Here ceased the swift their race, here sunk the strong;
he Paynim turban and the Christian crest
ed on the bleeding stream, by floating hosts oppressed.[57]

XXXV.

lovely Spain! renowned, romantic Land!
Where is that standard[58] which Pelagio bore,[bu]
When Cava's traitor-sire first called the band
hat dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore? [7.B.]
Where are those bloody Banners which of yore
Waved o'er thy sons, victorious to the gale,
And drove at last the spoilers to their shore?[59]
ed gleamed the Cross, and waned the Crescent pale,[bv]
ile Afric's echoes thrilled with Moorish matrons' wail.

XXXVI.

ms not each ditty with the glorious tale?[60]
Ah! such, alas! the hero's amplest fate!
When granite moulders and when records fail,
A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date.[bw]
ride! bend thine eye from Heaven to thine estate,
ee how the Mighty shrink into a song!
an Volume, Pillar, Pile preserve thee great?
Or must thou trust Tradition's simple tongue,
en Flattery sleeps with thee, and History does thee wrong?

XXXVII.

ake, ye Sons of Spain! awake! advance!
o! Chivalry, your ancient Goddess, cries,
ut wields not, as of old, her thirsty lance,
Nor shakes her crimson plumage in the skies:
Now on the smoke of blazing bolts she flies,
And speaks in thunder through yon engine's roar:
n every peal she calls—"Awake! arise!"
ay, is her voice more feeble than of yore,

en her war-song was heard on Andalusia's shore?

XXXVIII.

k!—heard you not those hoofs of dreadful note?
ounds not the clang of conflict on the heath?
aw ye not whom the reeking sabre smote,
Nor saved your brethren ere they sank beneath
yrants and Tyrants' slaves?—the fires of Death,
he Bale-fires flash on high:—from rock to rock![bx]
ach volley tells that thousands cease to breathe;
Death rides upon the sulphury Siroc,[61]
Battle stamps his foot, and Nations feel the shock.

XXXIX.

where the Giant on the mountain stands,
His blood-red tresses deepening in the Sun,
With death-shot glowing in his fiery hands,
And eye that scorcheth all it glares upon;
estless it rolls, now fixed, and now anon
lashing afar,—and at his iron feet
Destruction cowers, to mark what deeds are done;
or on this morn three potent Nations meet,
hed before his Shrine the blood he deems most sweet.

XL.

Heaven! it is a splendid sight to see[62]
For one who hath no friend, no brother there)
heir rival scarfs of mixed embroidery,[by]
heir various arms that glitter in the air!
What gallant War-hounds rouse them from their lair,

And gnash their fangs, loud yelling for the prey!
All join the chase, but few the triumph share;[63]
he Grave shall bear the chiefest prize away,
d Havoc scarce for joy can number their array.

XLI.

ee hosts combine to offer sacrifice;
hree tongues prefer strange orisons on high;
hree gaudy standards flout the pale blue skies;[64]
he shouts are France, Spain, Albion, Victory!
he Foe, the Victim, and the fond Ally
hat fights for all, but ever fights in vain,[65]
Are met—as if at home they could not die—
o feed the crow on Talavera's plain,
d fertilise the field that each pretends to gain.

XLII.

re shall they rot—Ambition's honoured fools![bz]
Yes, Honour decks the turf that wraps their clay![66]
Vain Sophistry! in these behold the tools,[ca]
he broken tools, that Tyrants cast away
y myriads, when they dare to pave their way
With human hearts—to what?—a dream alone.
an Despots compass aught that hails their sway?[cb]
Or call with truth one span of earth their own,
e that wherein at last they crumble bone by bone?

XLIII.

Albuera! glorious field of grief![cc][67]
As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim pricked his steed,

Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief,
A scene where mingling foes should boast and bleed![cd]
eace to the perished! may the warrior's meed[ce]
And tears of triumph their reward prolong![cf]
ill others fall where other chieftains lead
hy name shall circle round the gaping throng,
d shine in worthless lays, the theme of transient song.[cg][68]

XLIV.

ugh of Battle's minions! let them play
heir game of lives, and barter breath for fame:
ame that will scarce reanimate their clay,
hough thousands fall to deck some single name.
n sooth 'twere sad to thwart their noble aim
Who strike, blest hirelings! for their country's good,[ch]
And die, that living might have proved her shame;
erished, perchance, in some domestic feud,
n a narrower sphere wild Rapine's path pursued.[ci]

XLV.

swiftly Harold wends his lonely way[cj][69]
Where proud Sevilla triumphs unsubdued:[ck]
Yet is she free? the Spoiler's wished-for prey!
oon, soon shall Conquest's fiery foot intrude,
lackening her lovely domes with traces rude.
nevitable hour! 'Gainst fate to strive
Where Desolation plants her famished brood
s vain, or Ilion, Tyre might yet survive,
d Virtue vanquish all, and Murder cease to thrive

XLVI.

all unconscious of the coming doom,[70]
he feast, the song, the revel here abounds;
trange modes of merriment the hours consume,
Nor bleed these patriots with their country's wounds:
Nor here War's clarion, but Love's rebeck[71] sounds;[cl]
Here Folly still his votaries inthralls;
And young-eyed Lewdness walks her midnight rounds:[cm]
Girt with the silent crimes of Capitals,
to the last kind Vice clings to the tott'ring walls.

XLVII.

so the rustic—with his trembling mate
He lurks, nor casts his heavy eye afar,
est he should view his vineyard desolate,
lasted below the dun hot breath of War.
No more beneath soft Eve's consenting star
andango twirls his jocund castanet:[72]
Ah, Monarchs! could ye taste the mirth ye mar,
Not in the toils of Glory would ye fret;[cn]
hoarse dull drum would sleep, and Man be happy yet!

XLVIII.

w carols now the lusty muleteer?
Of Love, Romance, Devotion is his lay,
As whilome he was wont the leagues to cheer,
His quick bells wildly jingling on the way?
No! as he speeds, he chants "Vivā el Rey!" [8.B.]
And checks his song to execrate Godoy,
he royal wittol Charles, and curse the day

When first Spain's queen beheld the black-eyed boy,
d gore-faced Treason sprung from her adulterate joy.

XLIX.

yon long level plain, at distance crowned[73]
With crags, whereon those Moorish turrets rest,
Wide-scattered hoof-marks dint the wounded ground;
And, scathed by fire, the greensward's darkened vest
ells that the foe was Andalusia's guest:
Here was the camp, the watch-flame, and the host,
Here the bold peasant stormed the Dragon's nest;
till does he mark it with triumphant boast,
d points to yonder cliffs, which oft were won and lost.

L.

d whomsoe'er along the path you meet
ears in his cap the badge of crimson hue,
Which tells you whom to shun and whom to greet: [9.B.]
Woe to the man that walks in public view
Without of loyalty this token true:
harp is the knife, and sudden is the stroke;
And sorely would the Gallic foeman rue,
subtle poniards, wrapt beneath the cloke,
ld blunt the sabre's edge, or clear the cannon's smoke.

LI.

very turn Morena's dusky height[74]
ustains aloft the battery's iron load;
And, far as mortal eye can compass sight,
he mountain-howitzer, the broken road,

he bristling palisade, the fosse o'erflowed,
he stationed bands, the never-vacant watch,[co]
he magazine in rocky durance stowed,
he bolstered steed beneath the shed of thatch,
ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match, [10.B.]

LII.

end the deeds to come:—but he whose nod
Has tumbled feebler despots from their sway,
A moment pauseth ere he lifts the rod;
A little moment deigneth to delay:
oon will his legions sweep through these their way;
he West must own the Scourger of the world.[cp]
Ah! Spain! how sad will be thy reckoning-day,
When soars Gaul's Vulture, with his wings unfurled,[cq]
d thou shall view thy sons in crowds to Hades hurled.

LIII.

d must they fall? the young, the proud, the brave,
o swell one bloated Chiefs unwholesome reign?[75]
No step between submission and a grave?
he rise of Rapine and the fall of Spain?
And doth the Power that man adores ordain
heir doom, nor heed the suppliant's appeal?
s all that desperate Valour acts in vain?
And Counsel sage, and patriotic Zeal—
Veteran's skill—Youth's fire—and Manhood's heart of steel?

LIV.

for this the Spanish maid, aroused,

Hangs on the willow her unstrung guitar,
And, all unsexed, the Anlace[76] hath espoused,
ung the loud song, and dared the deed of war?
And she, whom once the semblance of a scar
Appalled, an owlet's 'larum chilled with dread,[77]
Now views the column-scattering bay'net jar,[cr]
he falchion flash, and o'er the yet warm dead
ks with Minerva's step where Mars might quake to tread.

LV.

who shall marvel when you hear her tale,
Oh! had you known her in her softer hour,
Marked her black eye that mocks her coal-black veil,
Heard her light, lively tones in Lady's bower,
een her long locks that foil the painter's power,
Her fairy form, with more than female grace,
carce would you deem that Saragoza's tower
eheld her smile in Danger's Gorgon face,
n the closed ranks, and lead in Glory's fearful chase.

LVI.

lover sinks—she sheds no ill-timed tear;
Her Chief is slain—she fills his fatal post;
Her fellows flee—she checks their base career;
he Foe retires—she heads the sallying host:
Who can appease like her a lover's ghost?
Who can avenge so well a leader's fall?
What maid retrieve when man's flushed hope is lost?
Who hang so fiercely on the flying Gaul,
ed by a woman's hand, before a battered wall? [11.B.]

LVII.

are Spain's maids no race of Amazons,
ut formed for all the witching arts of love:
hough thus in arms they emulate her sons,
And in the horrid phalanx dare to move,
Tis but the tender fierceness of the dove,
ecking the hand that hovers o'er her mate:
n softness as in firmness far above
emoter females, famed for sickening prate;
mind is nobler sure, her charms perchance as great.

LVIII.

seal Love's dimpling finger hath impressed[cs]
Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch: [12.B.]
Her lips, whose kisses pout to leave their nest,
id man be valiant ere he merit such:
Her glance how wildly beautiful! how much
Hath Phoebus wooed in vain to spoil her cheek,
Which glows yet smoother from his amorous clutch!
Who round the North for paler dames would seek?
w poor their forms appear! how languid, wan, and weak![78]

LIX.

ch me, ye climes! which poets love to laud;
Match me, ye harems of the land! where now
strike my strain, far distant, to applaud
eauties that ev'n a cynic must avow;[ct]
Match me those Houries, whom ye scarce allow
o taste the gale lest Love should ride the wind,
With Spain's dark-glancing daughters—deign to know,
here your wise Prophet's Paradise we find,

black-eyed maids of Heaven, angelically kind.

LX.

thou Parnassus! whom I now survey,[79] [13.B.]
Not in the phrensy of a dreamer's eye,
Not in the fabled landscape of a lay,[cu]
ut soaring snow-clad through thy native sky,
n the wild pomp of mountain-majesty!
What marvel if I thus essay to sing?
he humblest of thy pilgrims passing by
Would gladly woo thine Echoes with his string,
ugh from thy heights no more one Muse will wave her wing.

LXI.

have I dreamed of Thee! whose glorious name
Who knows not, knows not man's divinest lore:
And now I view thee—'tis, alas, with shame
hat I in feeblest accents must adore.
When I recount thy worshippers of yore
tremble, and can only bend the knee;
Nor raise my voice, nor vainly dare to soar,
ut gaze beneath thy cloudy canopy
ilent joy to think at last I look on Thee![80]

LXII.

pier in this than mightiest Bards have been,
Whose Fate to distant homes confined their lot,
hall I unmoved behold the hallowed scene,
Which others rave of, though they know it not?
hough here no more Apollo haunts his Grot,

And thou, the Muses' seat, art now their grave,
ome gentle Spirit still pervades the spot,
ighs in the gale, keeps silence in the Cave,
d glides with glassy foot o'er yon melodious wave.[cv]

LXIII.

hee hereafter.—Ev'n amidst my strain
turned aside to pay my homage here;
orgot the land, the sons, the maids of Spain;
Her fate, to every freeborn bosom dear;
And hailed thee, not perchance without a tear.
Now to my theme—but from thy holy haunt
et me some remnant, some memorial bear;[cw]
Yield me one leaf of Daphne's deathless plant,
let thy votary's hope be deemed an idle vaunt.

LXIV.

ne'er didst thou, fair Mount! when Greece was young,
ee round thy giant base a brighter choir,[81]
Nor e'er did Delphi, when her Priestess sung
he Pythian hymn with more than mortal fire,
ehold a train more fitting to inspire
he song of love, than Andalusia's maids,
Nurst in the glowing lap of soft Desire:
Ah! that to these were given such peaceful shades
Greece can still bestow, though Glory fly her glades.

LXV.

is proud Seville; let her country boast
Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days; [14.B.]

ut Cadiz, rising on the distant coast,[82]
alls forth a sweeter, though ignoble praise.
Ah, Vice! how soft are thy voluptuous ways!
While boyish blood is mantling, who can 'scape[cx]
he fascination of thy magic gaze?
A Cherub-Hydra round us dost thou gape,
d mould to every taste thy dear delusive shape.

LXVI.

en Paphos fell by Time—accurséd Time!
he Queen who conquers all must yield to thee—
he Pleasures fled, but sought as warm a clime;
And Venus, constant to her native Sea,
o nought else constant, hither deigned to flee,
And fixed her shrine within these walls of white:
hough not to one dome circumscribeth She
Her worship, but, devoted to her rite,
housand Altars rise, for ever blazing bright.[83]

LXVII.

m morn till night, from night till startled Morn[84]
eeps blushing on the Revel's laughing crew,
he Song is heard, the rosy Garland worn;
Devices quaint, and Frolics ever new,
read on each other's kibes.[85] A long adieu
He bids to sober joy that here sojourns:
Nought interrupts the riot, though in lieu[cy]
Of true devotion monkish incense burns,
d Love and Prayer unite, or rule the hour by turns.[cz]

LXVIII.

Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest:
What hallows it upon this Christian shore?
o! it is sacred to a solemn Feast:
Hark! heard you not the forest-monarch's roar?
rashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting gore
Of man and steed, o'erthrown beneath his horn;
he thronged arena shakes with shouts for more;
Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly torn,
shrinks the female eye, nor ev'n affects to mourn.

LXIX.[86]

seventh day this—the Jubilee of man!
ondon! right well thou know'st the day of prayer:
hen thy spruce citizen, washed artisan,
And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air:
hy coach of hackney, whiskey,[87] one-horse chair,
And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl,[da]
o Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow make repair;
ill the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl,
voking envious gibe from each pedestrian churl.[db]

LXX.

me o'er thy Thamis row the ribboned fair,[dc]
Others along the safer turnpike fly;
ome Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to Ware,
And many to the steep of Highgate hie.
Ask ye, Boeotian Shades! the reason why? [15.B.]
Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn,[88]
Grasped in the holy hand of Mystery,
n whose dread name both men and maids are sworn,

d consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till morn.

LXXI.

have their fooleries—not alike are thine,
air Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea![89]
oon as the Matin bell proclaimeth nine,
hy Saint-adorers count the Rosary:
Much is the V irgin teased to shrive them free
Well do I ween the only virgin there)
rom crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be;
hen to the crowded circus forth they fare:
ng, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share.

LXXII.

lists are oped, the spacious area cleared,[90]
housands on thousands piled are seated round;
ong ere the first loud trumpet's note is heard,
Ne vacant space for lated wight is found:
Here Dons, Grandees, but chiefly Dames abound,
killed in the ogle of a roguish eye,
Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound;
None through their cold disdain are doomed to die,
moon-struck bards complain, by Love's sad archery.

LXXIII.

hed is the din of tongues—on gallant steeds,
With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-poised lance,
our cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds,
And lowly-bending to the lists advance;
ich are their scarfs, their chargers featly prance:

in the dangerous game they shine to-day,
he crowd's loud shout and ladies' lovely glance,
est prize of better acts! they bear away,
d all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay.

LXXIV.

ostly sheen and gaudy cloak arrayed.
ut all afoot, the light-limbed Matadore
tands in the centre, eager to invade
he lord of lowing herds; but not before
he ground, with cautious tread, is traversed o'er,
est aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed:
His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more
an Man achieve without the friendly steed—
s! too oft condemned for him to bear and bleed.

LXXV.

ice sounds the Clarion; lo! the signal falls,
he den expands, and Expectation mute
Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls.
ounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute,
And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot,
he sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe:
Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit
His first attack, wide-waving to and fro
angry tail; red rolls his eye's dilated glow.

LXXVI.

den he stops—his eye is fixed—away—
Away, thou heedless boy! prepare the spear:
Now is thy time, to perish, or display

he skill that yet may check his mad career!
With well-timed croupe[91] the nimble coursers veer;
On foams the Bull, but not unscathed he goes;
treams from his flank the crimson torrent clear:
He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes;
t follows dart—lance, lance—loud bellowings speak his woes.

LXXVII.

in he comes; nor dart nor lance avail,
Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse;
hough Man and Man's avenging arms assail,
Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force.
One gallant steed is stretched a mangled corse;
Another, hideous sight! unseamed appears,
His gory chest unveils life's panting source;
hough death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears;
ggering, but stemming all, his Lord unharmed he bears.

LXXVIII.

ed, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last,
ull in the centre stands the Bull at bay,
Mid wounds, and clinging darts, and lances brast,[92]
And foes disabled in the brutal fray:
And now the Matadores[93] around him play,
hake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand:
Once more through all he bursts his thundering way—
Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand,
ps his fierce eye—'tis past—he sinks upon the sand![dd]

LXXIX.

ere his vast neck just mingles with the spine,
heathed in his form the deadly weapon lies.
He stops—he starts—disdaining to decline:
lowly he falls, amidst triumphant cries,
Without a groan, without a struggle dies.
he decorated car appears—on high
he corse is piled—sweet sight for vulgar eyes—[de][94]
our steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy,
l the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by.

LXXX.

h the ungentle sport that oft invites
he Spanish maid, and cheers the Spanish swain.
Nurtured in blood betimes, his heart delights
n vengeance, gloating on another's pain.
What private feuds the troubled village stain!
hough now one phalanxed host should meet the foe,
nough, alas! in humble homes remain,
o meditate 'gainst friend the secret blow,
some slight cause of wrath, whence Life's warm stream must flow.[95]

LXXXI.

Jealousy has fled: his bars, his bolts,
His withered Centinel,[96] Duenna sage!
And all whereat the generous soul revolts,[df]
Which the stern dotard deemed he could encage,
Have passed to darkness with the vanished age.
Who late so free as Spanish girls were seen,
Ere War uprose in his volcanic rage,)
With braided tresses bounding o'er the green,
ile on the gay dance shone Night's lover-loving Queen?

LXXXII.

many a time and oft, had Harold loved,
Or dreamed he loved, since Rapture is a dream;
ut now his wayward bosom was unmoved,
or not yet had he drunk of Lethe's stream;
And lately had he learned with truth to deem
ove has no gift so grateful as his wings:
How fair, how young, how soft soe'er he seem,
ull from the fount of Joy's delicious springs[dg]
me bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings. [16.B.]

LXXXIII.

to the beauteous form he was not blind,
hough now it moved him as it moves the wise;
Not that Philosophy on such a mind
'er deigned to bend her chastely-awful eyes:
ut Passion raves herself[97] to rest, or flies;
And Vice, that digs her own voluptuous tomb,
Had buried long his hopes, no more to rise:[dh]
leasure's palled Victim! life-abhorring Gloom
ote on his faded brow curst Cain's unresting doom.[98]

LXXXIV.

he beheld, nor mingled with the throng;
ut viewed them not with misanthropic hate:
ain would he now have joined the dance, the song;
ut who may smile that sinks beneath his fate?
Nought that he saw his sadness could abate:
Yet once he struggled 'gainst the Demon's sway,
And as in Beauty's bower he pensive sate,

oured forth his unpremeditated lay,
charms as fair as those that soothed his happier day.

TO INEZ. [99]

1.

N ay , smile not at my sullen brow;
Alas! I cannot smile again:
Yet Heaven avert that ever thou
Shouldst weep, and haply weep in vain.

2.

And dost thou ask what secret woe
I bear, corroding Joy and Youth?
And wilt thou vainly seek to know
A pang, ev'n thou must fail to soothe?

3.

It is not love, it is not hate,
Nor low Ambition's honours lost,
That bids me loathe my present state,
And fly from all I prized the most:

4.

It is that weariness which springs
From all I meet, or hear, or see:
To me no pleasure Beauty brings;
Thine eyes have scarce a charm for me.

5.

It is that settled, ceaseless gloom
The fabled Hebrew Wanderer bore;
That will not look beyond the tomb,
But cannot hope for rest before.

6.

What Exile from himself can flee?[100]
To zones though more and more remote,[di]
Still, still pursues, where'er I be,
The blight of Life—the Demon Thought.[101]

7.

Yet others rapt in pleasure seem,
And taste of all that I forsake;
Oh! may they still of transport dream,
And ne'er—at least like me—awake!

8.

Through many a clime 'tis mine to go,
With many a retrospection curst;
And all my solace is to know,
Whate'er betides, I've known the worst.

9.

What is that worst? Nay do not ask—
In pity from the search forbear:
Smile on—nor venture to unmask
Man's heart, and view the Hell that's there.
Jan. 25. 1810.—[MS.]

LXXXV.

eu, fair Cadiz! yea, a long adieu!
Who may forget how well thy walls have stood?
When all were changing thou alone wert true,
irst to be free and last to be subdued;[102]
And if amidst a scene, a shock so rude,
ome native blood was seen thy streets to dye,
A Traitor only fell beneath the feud:[17.B.]
Here all were noble, save Nobility;
ne hugged a Conqueror's chain, save fallen Chivalry!

LXXXVI.

h be the sons of Spain, and strange her Fate!
hey fight for Freedom who were never free,
A Kingless people for a nerveless state;[103]
Her vassals combat when their Chieftains flee,
rue to the veriest slaves of Treachery:
ond of a land which gave them nought but life,
ride points the path that leads to Liberty;
ack to the struggle, baffled in the strife,
, war is still the cry, "War even to the knife!" [18.B.]

LXXXVII.

who would more of Spain and Spaniards know[dj]
Go, read whate'er is writ of bloodiest strife:
Whate'er keen Vengeance urged on foreign foe
an act, is acting there against man's life:
rom flashing scimitar to secret knife,
War mouldeth there each weapon to his need—
o may he guard the sister and the wife,

o may he make each curst oppressor bleed—
may such foes deserve the most remorseless deed!

LXXXVIII.[104]

ws there a tear of Pity for the dead?
ook o'er the ravage of the reeking plain;
ook on the hands with female slaughter red;
hen to the dogs resign the unburied slain,
hen to the vulture let each corse remain,
Albeit unworthy of the prey-bird's maw;
et their bleached bones, and blood's unbleaching stain,
ong mark the battle-field with hideous awe:
s only may our sons conceive the scenes we saw!

LXXXIX.

yet, alas! the dreadful work is done;
resh legions pour adown the Pyrenees:
deepens still, the work is scarce begun,
Nor mortal eye the distant end foresees.
all'n nations gaze on Spain; if freed, she frees
More than her fell Pizarros once enchained:
trange retribution! now Columbia's ease
epairs the wrongs that Quito's sons sustained,[105]
ile o'er the parent clime prowls Murder unrestrained.

XC.

all the blood at Talavera shed,
Not all the marvels of Barossa's fight,
Not Albuera lavish of the dead,
Have won for Spain her well asserted right.
When shall her Olive-Branch be free from blight?

When shall she breathe her from the blushing toil?
How many a doubtful day shall sink in night,
re the Frank robber turn him from his spoil,
d Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil![106]

XCI.

d thou, my friend!—since unavailing woe[dk][107] [19.B.]
ursts from my heart, and mingles with the strain—
d the sword laid thee with the mighty low,
ride might forbid e'en Friendship to complain:
ut thus unlaurelled to descend in vain,
y all forgotten, save the lonely breast,
And mix unbleeding with the boasted slain,
While Glory crowns so many a meaner crest!
at hadst thou done to sink so peacefully to rest?

XCII.

known the earliest, and esteemed the most![dl][108]
Dear to a heart where nought was left so dear![dm]
hough to my hopeless days for ever lost,
n dreams deny me not to see thee here!
And Morn in secret shall renew the tear
Of Consciousness awaking to her woes,
And Fancy hover o'er thy bloodless bier,[dn]
ill my frail frame return to whence it rose,
d mourned and mourner lie united in repose.

XCIII.

e is one fytte[109] of Harold's pilgrimage:
Ye who of him may further seek to know,

hall find some tidings in a future page,
he that rhymeth now may scribble moe.
s this too much? stern Critic! say not so:
atience! and ye shall hear what he beheld
n other lands, where he was doomed to go:
ands that contain the monuments of Eld,
Greece and Grecian arts by barbarous hands were quelled.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] "The first and second cantos of Childe Harold were written in separate portions by the noble
author. They were afterwards arranged for publication; and when thus arranged, the whole was
copied. This copy was placed in Lord Byron's hands, and he made various alterations, corrections,
and large additions. These, together with the notes, are in his Lordship's own handwriting. The
manuscript thus corrected was sent to the press, and was printed under the direction of Robt. Chas.
Dallas, Esq., to whom Lord Byron had given the copyright of the poem. The MS., as it came from the
printers, was preserved by Mr. Dallas, and is now in the possession of his son, the Rev. Alex. Dallas."

[See Dallas Transcript, p. 1. Mus. Brit. Bibl. Egerton, 2027. Press 526. H. T.]

[a] {3} Advertisement to be prefixed ye Poem.—[MS. B.M.]

[b] Professes to describe.—[MS. B.M.]

[c] ——that in the fictitious character of "Childe Harold" I may incur the suspicion of having drawn
"from myself." This I beg leave once for all to disclaim. I wanted a character to give some connection
to the poem, and the one adopted suited my purpose as well as any other.—[MS. B.M.]

[d] {4} Such an idea.—[MS. B.M.]

[e] My readers will observe that where the author speaks in his own person he assumes a very
different tone from that of

e cheerless thing, the man without a friend,"

at least, till death had deprived him of his nearest connections.

I crave pardon for this Egotism, which proceeds from my wish to discard any probable imputation of
it to the text.—[MS. B.M.]

[2] ["In the 13th and 14th centuries the word 'child,' which signifies a youth of gentle birth, appears
to have been applied to a young noble awaiting knighthood, e.g. in the romances of Ipomydon, Sir

Tryamour, etc. It is frequently used by our old writers as a title, and is repeatedly given to Prince
Arthur in the Faërie Queene"—(N. Eng. Dict., art. "Childe").

Byron uses the word in the Spenserian sense, as a title implying youth and nobility.]

[3] [John, Lord Maxwell, slew Sir James Johnstone at Achmanhill, April 6, 1608, in revenge for his
father's defeat and death at Dryffe Sands, in 1593. He was forced to flee to France. Hence his "Good
Night." Scott's ballad is taken, with "some slight variations," from a copy in Glenriddel's MSS.—
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, 1810, i. 290-300.]

[4] [Amongst others, The Battle of Talavera, by John Wilson Croker, appeared in 1809; The Vision of
Don Roderick, by Walter Scott, in 1811; and Portugal, a Poem, by Lord George Grenville, in 1812.]

[f] Some casual coincidence.—[MS. B.M.]

[5] {5} Beattie's Letters. [See letter to Dr. Blacklock, September 22, 1766 (Life of Beattie, by Sir W.
Forbes, 1806, i. 89).]

[g] Satisfied that their failure.—[MS. B.M.]

[6] [See Quarterly Review, March, 1812, vol. vii. p. 191: "The moral code of chivalry was not, we
admit, quite pure and spotless, but its laxity on some points was redeemed by the noble spirit of
gallantry which courted personal danger in the defence of the sovereign ... of women because they
are often lovely, and always helpless; and of the priesthood.... Now, Childe Harold, if not absolutely
craven and recreant, is at least a mortal enemy to all martial exertion, a scoffer at the fair sex, and,
apparently, disposed to consider all religions as different modes of superstition." The tone of the
review is severer than the Preface indicates. Nor does Byron attempt to reply to the main issue of the
indictment, an unknightly aversion from war, but rides off on a minor point, the licentiousness of the
Troubadours.]

[7] {6} [See Mémoires sur l'Ancienne Chevalerie, par M. De la Curne de Sainte-Palaye, Paris, 1781:
"Qu'on lise dans l'auteur du roman de Gérard de Roussillon, en Provençal, les détails très-
circonstanciés dans lesquels il entre sur la réception faite par le Comte Gérard à l'ambassadeur du roi
Charles; on y verra des particularités singulières qui donnent une etrange idée des moeurs et de la
politesse de ces siècles aussi corrompus qu'ignorans" (ii. 69). See, too, ibid., ante, p. 65: "Si l'on juge
des moeurs d'un siècle par les écrits qui nous en sont restés, nous serons en droit de juger que nos
ancêtres observèrent mal les loix que leur prescrivirent la décence et l'honnêteté."]

[8] [See Recherches sur les Prérogatives des Dames chez les Gaulois sur les Cours d'Amours, par M.
le Président Rolland [d'Erceville], de l'Académie d'Amiens. Paris, 1787, pp. 18-30, 117, etc.]

[9] [The phrase occurs in The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement (Poetry of the Anti-Jacobin, 1854,
p. 199), by J. Hookham Frere, a skit on the "moral inculcated by the German dramas—the reciprocal
duties of one or more husbands to one or more wives." The waiter at the Golden Eagle at Weimar is a
warrior in disguise, and rescues the hero, who is imprisoned in the abbey of Quedlinburgh.]

[10] {7} ["But the age of chivalry is gone—the unbought grace of life, the cheap defence of nations,"
etc. (Reflections on the Revolution in France, by the Right Hon. Edmund Burke, M.P., 1868, p. 89).]

[11] [Passages relating to the Queen of Tahiti, in Hawkesworth's Voyages, drawn from journals kept
by the several commanders, and from the papers of Joseph Banks, Esq. (1773, ii. 106), gave occasion
to malicious and humorous comment. (See An Epistle from Mr. Banks, Voyager, Monster-hunter, and
Amoroso, To Oberea, Queen of Otaheite, by A.B.C.) The lampoon, "printed at Batavia for Jacobus
Opani" (the Queen's Tahitian for "Banks"), was published in 1773. The authorship is assigned to
Major John Scott Waring (1747-1819).]

[12] {8} [Compare Childish Recollections: Poetical Works, 1898, i. 84, var. i.—

eary of love, of life, devour'd with spleen,
st a perfect Timon, not nineteen."]

[13] [John Moore (1729-1802), the father of the celebrated Sir John Moore, published Zeluco.
Various views of Human Nature, taken from Life and Manners, Foreign and Domestic, in 1789.
Zeluco was an unmitigated scoundrel, who led an adventurous life; but the prolix narrative of his
villanies does not recall Childe Harold. There is, perhaps, some resemblance between Zeluco's
unbridled childhood and youth, due to the indulgence of a doting mother, and Byron's early
emancipation from discipline and control.]

[h] {11} To the Lady Charlotte Harley.—[MS. M.]

[14] [The Lady Charlotte Mary Harley, second daughter of Edward, fifth Earl of Oxford and
Mortimer, was born 1801. She married, in 1823, Captain Anthony Bacon (died July 2, 1864), who
had followed "young, gallant Howard" (see Childe Harold, III. xxix.) in his last fatal charge at
Waterloo, and who, subsequently, during the progress of the civil war between Dom Miguel and
Maria da Gloria of Portugal (1828-33), held command as colonel of cavalry in the Queen's forces,
and finally as a general officer. Lady Charlotte Bacon died May 9, 1880. Byron's acquaintance with
her probably dated from his visit to Lord and Lady Oxford, at Eywood House, in Herefordshire, in
October-November, 1812. Her portrait, by Westall, which was painted at his request, is included
among the illustrations in Finden's Illustrations of the Life and Works of Lord Byron, ii. See Gent.
Mag., N.S., vol. xvii. (1864) p. 261; and an obituary notice in the Times, May 10, 1880, See, too,
letter to Murray, March 29, 1813 (Letters, 1898, ii. 200).]

[15] {12} [The reference is to the French proverb, L'Amitié est l'Amour sans Ailes, which suggested
the last line (line 412) of Childish Recollections, "And Love, without his pinion, smil'd on youth,"
and forms the title of one of the early poems, first published in 1832 (Poetical Works, 1898, i. 106,
220).]

[16] [In 1814, when the dedication was published, Byron completed his twenty-sixth year, Ianthe her
thirteenth.]

[17] {13} [For the modulation of the verse, compare Pope's lines—

orrectly cold, and regularly low."

Essay on Criticism, line 240.

ows while he reads, but trembles as he writes."

Ibid., line 198.]
[18] [Ianthe ("Flower o' the Narcissus") was the name of a Cretan girl wedded to one Iphis (vid.
Ovid., Metamorph., ix. 714). Perhaps Byron's dedication was responsible for the Ianthe of Queen
Mab (1812, 1813), who in turn bestowed her name on Shelley's eldest daughter (Mrs. Esdaile, d.
1876), who was born June 28, 1813.]

[i]

d long as kinder eyes shall deign to cast
ook along my page, that name enshrined
lt thou be first beheld, forgotten last.—[MS.]

[j] {14} Though more than Hope can claim—Ah! less could I require?—[MS.]

[19] {15} [The MS. does not open with stanza i., which was written after Byron returned to England,
and appears first in the Dallas Transcript (see letter to Murray, September 5, 1811). Byron and
Hobhouse visited Delphi, December 16, 1809, when the First Canto (see stanza lx.) was approaching
completion (Travels in Albania, by Lord Broughton, 1858, i. 199).]

[k] Oh, thou of yore esteemed——.—[D.]

[l] Since later lyres are only strung on earth.—[D.]

[20] [For the substitution of the text for vars. ii., iii., see letter to Dallas, September 21, 1811 (Letters,
1898, ii. 43).]

[m]

——thy glorious rill.—[D.]
—wooed thee, drank the vaunted rill.—[D.]

[n] {16} Sore given to revel and to Pageantry.—[MS. erased.]

[o]

chused the bad, and did the good affright
h concubines——.—[MS.]
earthly things——.—[D.]

[21] ["We [i.e. Byron and C.S. Matthews] went down [April, 1809] to Newstead together, where I
had got a famous cellar, and Monks' dresses from a masquerade warehouse. We were a company of
some seven or eight, ... and used to sit up late in our friars' dresses, drinking burgundy, claret,
champagne, and what not, out of the skull-cup, and all sorts of glasses, and buffooning all round the
house, in our conventual garments" (letter to Murray, November 19, 1820. See, too, the account of
this visit which Matthews wrote to his sister in a letter dated May 22, 1809 [Letters, 1898, i. 150-160,

and 153, note]). Moore (Life, p. 86) and other apologists are anxious to point out that the Newstead
"wassailers" were, on the whole, a harmless crew of rollicking schoolboys "—were, indeed, of habits
and tastes too intellectual for mere vulgar debauchery." And as to the "alleged 'harems,'" the "Paphian
girls," there were only one or two, says Moore, "among the ordinary menials." But, even so, the
"wassailers" were not impeccable, and it is best to leave the story, fact or fable, to speak for itself.

[22] {17} ["Hight" is the preterite of the passive "hote," and means "was called." "Childe Harold he
hight" would be more correct. Compare Spenser's Faërie Queene, bk. i. c. ix. 14. 9, "She Queene of
Faeries hight." But "hight" was occasionally used with the common verbs "is," "was." Compare The
Ordinary, 1651, act iii. sc. 1—

" ... the goblin
at is hight Good-fellow Robin."

Dodsley (ed. Hazlitt), xii. 253.]
[p] Childe Burun———.—[MS.]

[23] [William, fifth Lord Byron (the poet's grand-uncle), mortally wounded his kinsman, Mr.
Chaworth, in a duel which was fought, without seconds or witnesses, at the Star and Garter Tavern,
Pall Mall, January 29, 1765. He was convicted of wilful murder by the coroner's jury, and of
manslaughter by the House of Lords; but, pleading his privilege as a peer, he was set at liberty. He
was known to the country-side as the "wicked Lord," and many tales, true and apocryphal, were told
to his discredit (Life of Lord Byron, by Karl Elze, 1872, pp. 5, 6).]

[q] ———nor honied glose of rhyme.—[D. pencil.]

[r] Childe Burun———.—[MS.]

[s] {18} For he had on the course too swiftly run.—[MS. erased.]

[t] Had courted many——.—[MS. erased.]

[24] [Mary Chaworth. (Compare "Stanzas to a Lady, on leaving England," passim: Poetical Works,
1898, i. 285.)]

[u] ——Childe Burun——.—[MS.]

[25] {19} [Compare The Lay of the Last Minstrel, Canto I, stanza ix. 9—

nd burning pride and high disdain
bade the rising tears to flow."]

[v]

d strait he fell into a reverie.—[MS.]
—sullen reverie.—[D.]

[26] [Vide post, stanza xi. line 9, note.]

[w] Strange fate directed still to uses vile.—[MS. erased.]

[x]

w Paphian jades were heard to sing and smile.—[MS. erased.]
w Paphian nymphs——.—[D. pencil.]

[27] [The brass eagle which was fished out of the lake at Newstead in the time of Byron's
predecessor contained, among other documents, "a grant of full pardon from Henry V. of every
possible crime ... which the monks might have committed previous to the 8th of December preceding
(Murdris, per ipsos post decimum nonum Diem Novembris, ultimo præteritum perpetratis, si quæ
fuerint, exceptis)" (Life, p. 2, note). The monks were a constant source of delight to the Newstead
"revellers." Francis Hodgson, in his "Lines on a Ruined Abbey in a Romantic Country" (Poems,
1809), does not spare them—

ail, venerable pile!' whose ivied walls
Proclaim the desolating lapse of years:
d hail, ye hills, and murmuring waterfalls,
Where yet her head the ruin'd Abbey rears.
longer now the matin tolling bell,
Re-echoing loud among the woody glade,
ls the fat abbot from his drowsy cell,
And warns the maid to flee, if yet a maid.
longer now the festive bowl goes round,
Nor monks get drunk in honour of their God."]

[y] {20} The original MS. inserts two stanzas which were rejected during the composition of the
poem:—

Of all his train there was a henchman page,
peasant served
A dark eyed boy, who loved his master well;
And often would his pranksome prate engage
Harold's
Childe Burun's ear, when his proud heart did swell
With sable thoughts that he disdained to tell.
Alwin
Then would he smile on him, as Rupert smiled,
Robin
When aught that from his young lips archly fell
Harold's
The gloomy film from Burun's eye beguiled;
And pleased the Childe appeared nor ere the boy reviled.
And pleased for a glimpse appeared the woeful Childe. }

Him and one yeoman only did he take
To travel Eastward to a far countree;
And though the boy was grieved to leave the lake
On whose firm banks he grew from Infancy,
Eftsoons his little heart beat merrily
With hope of foreign nations to behold,
And many things right marvellous to see,
vaunting
Of which our lying voyagers oft have told,
From Mandevilles' and scribes of similar mold.
or, In tomes pricked out with prints to monied ... sold
In many a tome as true as Mandeville's of old. }
[z] ——Childe Burun——.—[MS.]

[aa] {21} Stanza ix. was the result of much elaboration. The first draft, which was pasted over the
rejected stanzas (vide supra, p. 20, var. i.), retains the numerous erasures and emendations. It ran as
follows:—

d none did love him though to hall and bower
few could
ughty he gathered revellers from far and near
evil smile just bordering on a sneer
knew them flatterers of the festal hour
rled on his lip
heartless Parasites of present cheer,
if
d deemed no mortal wight his peer
! none did love him not his lemmans dear
gentle Dames still less he could be dear
re aught But pomp and power alone are Woman's care
And where these are let no Possessor fear
sex are slaves Maidens like moths are ever caught by glare
ve shrinks outshone by Mammons dazzling glare
d Mammon
at Demon wins his [MS. torn] where Angels might despair.

[28] The "trivial particular" which suggested to Byron the friendlessness and desolation of the Childe
may be explained by the refusal of an old schoolfellow to spend the last day with him before he set
out on his travels. The friend, possibly Lord Delawarr, excused himself on the plea that "he was
engaged with his mother and some ladies to go shopping." "Friendship!" he exclaimed to Dallas. "I
do not believe I shall leave behind me, yourself and family excepted, and, perhaps, my mother, a
single being who will care what becomes of me" (Dallas, Recollections, etc., pp. 63, 64). Byron, to
quote Charles Lamb's apology for Coleridge, was "full of fun," and must not be taken too seriously.

Doubtless he was piqued at the moment, and afterwards, to heighten the tragedy of Childe Harold's
exile, expanded a single act of negligence into general abandonment and desertion at the hour of trial.

[ab] {22} No! none did love him——.—[D. pencil.]

[29] The word "lemman" is used by Chaucer in both senses, but more frequently in the feminine.—
[MS. M.]

[30] "Feere," a consort or mate. [Compare the line, "What when lords go with their feires, she said,"
in "The Ancient Fragment of the Marriage of Sir Gawaine" (Percy's Reliques, 1812, iii. 416), and the
lines—

"As with the woful fere,
d father of that chaste dishonoured dame."

Titus Andronicus, act iv. sc. 1.

Compare, too, "That woman and her fleshless Pheere" (The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere, line 180
of the reprint from the first version in the Lyrical Ballads, 1798; Poems by S. T. Coleridge, 1893,
App. E, p. 515).]

[ac] {23} Childe Burun——.—[MS.]

[31] [In a suppressed stanza of "Childe Harold's Good Night" (see p. 27, var. ii.), the Childe
complains that he has not seen his sister for "three long years and moe." Before her marriage, in
1807, Augusta Byron divided her time between her mother's children, Lady Chichester and the Duke
of Leeds; her cousin, Lord Carlisle; and General and Mrs. Harcourt. After her marriage to Colonel
Leigh, she lived at Newmarket. From the end of 1805 Byron corresponded with her more or less
regularly, but no meeting took place. In a letter to his sister, dated November 30, 1808 (Letters, 1898,
i. 203), he writes, "I saw Col. Leigh at Brighton in July, where I should have been glad to have seen
you; I only know your husband by sight." Colonel Leigh was his first cousin, as well as his half-
sister's husband, and the incidental remark that "he only knew him by sight" affords striking proof
that his relations and connections were at no pains to seek him out, but left him to fight his own way
to social recognition and distinction. (For particulars of "the Hon. Augusta Byron," see Letters, 1898,
i. 18, note.)]

[ad] Of friends he had but few, embracing none.—[MS. erased.]

[ae] Yet deem him not from this with breast of steel.—[MS. D.]

[32] [Compare Campbell's Gertrude of Wyoming, ii. 8. 1—"Yet deem not Gertrude sighed for foreign
joy."]

[af] {24} His house, his home, his vassals, and his lands.—[MS. D.]

[ag]

Dalilahs——.—[MS. D.]

damsels all——.—[MS. erased.]

[ah] ——where brighter sunbeams shine.—[MS. erased.]

[33] "Your objection to the expression 'central line' I can only meet by saying that, before Childe
Harold left England, it was his full intention to traverse Persia, and return by India, which he could
not have done without passing the equinoctial" (letter to Dallas, September 7, 1811; see, too, letter to
his mother, October 7, 1808: Letters, 1898, i. 193; ii. 27).

[ai] The sails are filled——.—[MS.]

[34] He experienced no such emotion on the resumption of his Pilgrimage in 1816. With reference to
the confession, he writes (Canto III. stanza i. lines 6-9)—

" ... I depart,
Whither I know not; but the hour's gone by,
en Albion's lessening shores could grieve or glad mine eye."

[35] {25} [See Lord Maxwell's "Good Night" in Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border (Poetical
Works, ii. 141, ed. 1834): "Adieu, madam, my mother dear," etc. [MS.]. Compare, too, Armstrong's
"Good Night" ibid.—

his night is my departing night,
For here nae langer mun I stay;
ere's neither friend nor foe of mine,
But wishes me away.
at I have done thro' lack of will,
I never, never can recall;
ope ye're a' my friends as yet.
Good night, and joy be with you all."]

[36] {26} [Robert Rushton, the son of one of the Newstead tenants. "Robert I take with me; I like
him, because, like myself, he seems a friendless animal. Tell Mr. Rushton his son is well, and doing
well" (letter to Mrs. Byron, Falmouth, June 22, 1809: Letters, 1898, i. 224).]

[aj] {27}

r best gos-hawk can hardly fly
o merrily along.—[MS.]
r best greyhound can hardly fly.—[D. erased.]

[ak] Here follows in the MS. the following erased stanza:—

mother is a high-born dame,
And much misliketh me;
saith my riot bringeth shame
On all my ancestry.

ad a sister once I ween,
Whose tears perhaps will flow;
her fair face I have not seen
For three long years and moe.

[al]

master dear I do not cry
From fear of wave or wind.—[MS.]

[37] [Robert was sent back from Gibraltar under the care of Joe Murray (see letter to Mr. Rushton,
August 15, 1809: Letters, 1898, i. 242).]

[38] {28} [William Fletcher, Byron's valet. He was anything but "staunch" in the sense of the song
(see Byron's letters of November 12, 1809, and June 28, 1810) (Letters, 1898, i. 246, 279); but for
twenty years he remained a loyal and faithful servant, helped to nurse his master in his last illness,
and brought his remains back to England.]

[am] {29}

ough, enough, my yeoman good.
All this is well to say;
if I in thy sandals stood
'd laugh to get away.—[MS. erased, D.]

[an]

r who would trust a paramour
Or e'en a wedded feere—
ough her blue eyes were streaming o'er,
And torn her yellow hair?—[MS.]

[39] ["I leave England without regret—I shall return to it without pleasure. I am like Adam, the first
convict sentenced to transportation, but I have no Eve, and have eaten no apple but what was sour as
a crab" (letter to F. Hodgson, Falmouth, June 25, 1809, Letters, 1898, i. 230). If this Confessio
Amantis, with which compare the "Stanzas to a Lady, on leaving England," is to be accepted as bonâ
fide, he leaves England heart-whole, but for the bitter memory of Mary Chaworth.]

[ao] {30} Here follows in the MS., erased:—

thinks it would my bosom glad,
To change my proud estate,
d be again a laughing lad
With one beloved playmate.
ce youth I scarce have pass'd an hour
Without disgust or pain,

ept sometimes in Lady's bower,
Or when the bowl I drain.

[40] ["I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the 'Good Night.' I have no reason to suppose my
dog better than his brother brutes, mankind; and Argus we know to be a fable" (letter to Dallas,
September 23, 1811: Letters, 1898, ii. 44).

Byron was recalling an incident which had befallen him some time previously (see letter to Moore,
January 19, 1815): "When I thought he was going to enact Argus, he bit away the backside of my
breeches, and never would consent to any kind of recognition, in despite of all kinds of bones which I
offered him." See, too, for another thrust at Argus, Don Juan, Canto III. stanza xxiii. But he should
have remembered that this particular Argus "was half a wolf by the she side." His portrait is preserved
at Newstead (see Poetical Works, 1898, i. 280, Edition de Luxe).

For the expression of a different sentiment, compare The Inscription on the Monument of a
Newfoundland Dog (first published in Hobhouse's Imit. and Transl., 1809), and the prefatory
inscription on Boatswain's grave in the gardens of Newstead, dated November 16, 1808 (Life, p. 73).]

[41] {31} [Cintra's "needle-like peaks," to the north-west of Lisbon, are visible from the mouth of the
Tagus.]

[42] [Compare Ovid, Amores, i. 15, and Pliny, Hist. Nat., iv. 22. Small particles of gold are still to be
found in the sands of the Tagus, but the quantity is, and perhaps always was, inconsiderable.]

[ap] ——where thronging rustics reap.—[MS. erased.]

[aq] {32} What God hath done—[MS. D.]

[ar] Those Lusian brutes and earth from worst of wretches purge.—[MS.]

[43] ["Lisboa is the Portuguese word, consequently the very best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and as I
have Hellas and Eros not very long before, there would be something like an affectation of Greek
terms, which I wish to avoid" (letter to Dallas, September 23, 1811: Letters, 1898, ii. 44. See, too,
Poetical Works, 1883, p. 5).]

[as] Ulissipont, or Lisbona.—[MS. pencil.]

[at]

ich poets, prone to lie, have paved with gold.—[MS.]
ich poets sprinkle o'er with sands of gold.—[MS. pencil.]
ich fabling poets—[D. pencil.]

[44] {33} [For Byron's estimate of the Portuguese, see The Curse of Minerva, lines 233, 234, and
note to line 231 (Poetical Works, 1898, i. 469, 470). In the last line of the preceding stanza, the
substitution of the text for var. i. was no doubt suggested by Dallas in the interests of prudence.]

[au]

Who hate the very hand that waves the sword
shield them, etc.—[MS. D.]
guard them, etc.—[MS. pencil.]

[av]

d many things that grieve both nose and ee.—[MS.]
dst many——.—[MS. D.]

[aw] ——smelleth filthily.—[MS. D.]

[ax] ——dammed with dirt.—[MS. erased.]

[45] {34} [For a fuller description of Cintra, see letter to Mrs. Byron, dated August 11, 1808 (Life, p.
92; Letters, 1898, i. 237). Southey, not often in accord with Byron, on his return from Spain (1801)
testified that "for beauty all English, perhaps all existing, scenery must yield to Cintra" (Life and
Corr. of R. Southey, ii. 161).]

[ay] ——views too sweet and vast——.—[MS. erased.]

[az]

—by tottering convent crowned.—[MS. erased.]
ornoque.—[Note (pencil).]

[46] "The sky-worn robes of tenderest blue." Collins' Ode to Pity [MS. and D.].

[ba] The murmur that the sparkling torrents keep.—[MS. erased.]

[47] {35} [The convent of Nossa Señora (now the Palazio) da Peña, and the Cork Convent, were
visited by Beckford (circ. 1780), and are described in his Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal
(8vo, 1834), the reissue of his Letters Picturesque and Poetical (4to, 1783).

"Our first object was the convent of Nossa Senhora da Penha, the little romantic pile of white
building I had seen glittering from afar when I first sailed by the coast of Lisbon. From this
pyramidical elevation the view is boundless; you look immediately down upon an immense expanse
of sea.

... A long series of detached clouds of a dazzling whiteness suspended low over the waves had a
magic effect, and in pagan times might have appeared, without any great stretch of fancy, the cars of
marine divinities, just risen from the bosom of their element."—Italy, etc., p. 249.

"Before the entrance, formed by two ledges of ponderous rock, extends a smooth level of
greensward.... The Hermitage, its cell, chapel, and refectory, are all scooped out of the native marble,
and lined with the bark of the cork tree. Several of the passages are not only roofed, but floored with
the same material ... The shrubberies and garden-plots dispersed amongst the mossy rocks ... are
delightful, and I took great pleasure in ... following the course of a transparent rill, which was

conducted through a rustic water-shoot, between bushes of lavender and roses, many of the tenderest
green."—Ibid., p. 250.

The inscription to the memory of Honorius (d. 159, æt. 95) is on a stone in front of the cave—

c Honorius vitam finivit;
deo cum Deo in coelis revivit."]

[48] {36} "I don't remember any crosses there."—[Pencilled note by J.C. Hobhouse.]

[The crosses made no impression upon Hobhouse, who, no doubt, had realized that they were nothing
but guideposts. For an explanation, see letter of Mr. Matthew Lewtas to the Athenæum, July 19,
1873: "The track from the main road to the convent, rugged and devious, leading up to the mountain,
is marked out by numerous crosses now, just as it was when Byron rode along it in 1809, and it
would appear he fell into the mistake of considering that the crosses were erected to show where
assassinations had been committed."]

[49] [Beckford, describing the view from the convent, notices the wild flowers which adorned "the
ruined splendour." "Amidst the crevices of the mouldering walls ... I noticed some capillaries and
polypodiums of infinite delicacy; and on a little flat space before the convent a numerous tribe of
pinks, gentians, and other Alpine plants, fanned and invigorated by the fresh mountain air."—Italy,
etc., 1834, p. 229.

The "Prince's palace" (line 5) may be the royal palace at Cintra, "the Alhambra of the Moorish
kings," or, possibly, the palace (vide post, stanza xxix. line 7) at Mafra, ten miles from Cintra.]

[bb] {37} There too proud Vathek—England's wealthiest son.—[MS. D.]

[50] [William Beckford, 1760 (?1759)-1844, published Vathek in French in 1784, and in English in
1787. He spent two years (1794-96) in retirement at Quinta da Monserrate, three miles from Cintra.
Byron thought highly of Vathek. "I do not know," he writes (The Giaour, l. 1328, note), "from what
source the author ... may have drawn his materials ... but for correctness of costume ... and power of
imagination, it surpasses all European imitations.... As an Eastern tale, even Rasselas must bow
before it; his happy valley will not bear a comparison with the 'Hall of Eblis.'" In the MS. there is an
additional stanza reflecting on Beckford, which Dallas induced him to omit. It was afterwards
included by Moore among the Occasional Pieces, under the title of To Dives: a Fragment (Poetical
Works, 1883, p. 548). (For Beckford, see Letters, 1898, i. 228, note 1; and with regard to the "Stanzas
on Vathek," see letter to Dallas, September 26, 1811: Letters, 1898, ii. 47.)]

[bc]

en Wealth and Taste their worst and best have done,
ek Peace pollution's lure voluptuous still must shun.—[MS.]

[bd]

now thou blasted Beacon unto man.—[MS.]

—thou Beacon unto erring man.—[MS. D.]

[be] {38} Vain are the pleasaunces by art supplied.—[MS. D.]

[bf] ——yclad, and by.—[MS. D.]

[bg] Where blazoned glares a name spelt "Wellesley."—[MS. D.]

[bh] ——are on the roll.—[MS. erased, D.]

[bi] The following stanzas, which appear in the MS., were excluded at the request of Dallas (see his
letter of October 10, 1811, Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron, 1824, pp. 173-187), Letters, 1898,
ii. 51:—

golden characters right well designed
First on the list appeareth one "Junot;"
Then certain other glorious names we find,
Which Rhyme compelleth me to place below:)
Dull victors! baffled by a vanquished foe,
Wheedled by conynge tongues of laurels due,
tand, worthy of each other in a row—
irs Arthur, Harry, and the dizzard Hew
rymple, seely wight, sore dupe of t'other tew.

nvention is the dwarfy demon styled
That failed the knights in Marialva's dome:
Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled,
And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom.
For well I wot, when first the news did come
That Vimiera's field by Gaul was lost,
For paragraph ne paper scarce had room,
uch Pæans teemed for our triumphant host,
Courier, Chronicle, and eke in Morning Post.

when Convention sent his handy workbr />
Pens, tongues, feet, hands combined in wild uproar;
Mayor, Aldermen, laid down the uplifted fork;
The Bench of Bishops half forgot to snore;
tern Cobbett,[A]—who for one whole week forbore
To question aught, once more with transport leapt,
And bit his devilish quill agen, and swore
With foes such treaty never should be kept,
ile roared the blatant Beast,[B] and roared, and raged, and—slept!!

us unto Heaven appealed the people: Heaven
Which loves the lieges of our gracious King,

Decreed that ere our Generals were forgiven,
Enquiry should be held about the thing.
But Mercy cloaked the babes beneath her wing;
And as they spared our foes so spared we them;
Where was the pity of our Sires for Byng?)[C]
Yet knaves, not idiots should the law condemn;
n live ye gallant Knights! and bless your Judges' phlegm!

[A] [Sir Hew Dalrymple's despatch on the so-called Convention of Cintra is dated September 3, and
was published in the London Gazette Extraordinary, September 16, 1808. The question is not alluded
to in the Weekly Political Register of September 17, but on the 24th Cobbett opened fire with a long
article (pp. 481-502) headed, "Conventions in Portugal," which was followed up by articles on the
same subject in the four succeeding issues. Articles iii., iv., v., vi., of the "Definitive Convention"
provided for the restoration of the French troops and their safe convoy to France, with their artillery,
equipments, and cavalry. "Did the men," asks Cobbett (September 24), "who made this promise beat
the Duke d'Abrantés [Junot], or were they like curs, who, having felt the bite of the mastiff, lose all
confidence in their number, and, though they bark victory, suffer him to retire in quiet, carrying off
his bone to be disposed of at his leisure? No, not so; for they complaisantly carry the bone for him."
The rest of the article is written in a similar strain.]

[B] ["'Blatant beast.'[*] A figure for the mob. I think first used by Smollett, in his Adventures of an
Atom.[**] Horace has the 'bellua multorum capitum.'[***] In England, fortunately enough, the
illustrious mobility has not even one."—[MS.]]

[*] [Spenser (Faërie Queene, bk. vi. cantos iii. 24; xii. 27, sq.) personifies the vox populi, with its
thousand tongues, as the "blatant beast."]

[**][In The History and Adventures of an Atom (Smollett's Works, 1872, vi. 385), Foksi-Roku (Henry
Fox, the first Lord Holland) passes judgment on the populace. "The multitude, my lords, is a many-
headed monster, it is a Cerberus that must have a sop; it is a wild beast, so ravenous that nothing but
blood will appease its appetite; it is a whale, that must have a barrel for its amusement; it is a demon,
to which we must offer human sacrifice.... Bihn-Goh must be the victim—happy if the sacrifice of his
single life can appease the commotions of his country." Foksi-Roku's advice is taken, and Bihn-Goh
(Byng) "is crucified for cowardice."]

[***][Horace, Odes, II. xiii. 34: "Bellua centiceps."]

[C]"By this query it is not meant that our foolish generals should have been shot, but that Byng
[Admiral John Byng, born 1704, was executed March 14, 1757] might have been spared; though the
one suffered and the others escaped, probably for Candide's reason 'pour encourager les autres.'"
[****]—[MS.]

[****] ["Dans ce pays-ci il est bon de tuer de temps en temps un amiral pour encourager les
autres."—Candide, xxii.]

[51] {39} [On August 21, 1808, Sir Harry Burrard (1755-1813) superseded in command Sir Arthur
Wellesley, who had, on the same day, repulsed Junot at Vimiera. No sooner had he assumed his
position as commander-in-chief, than he countermanded Wellesley's order to give pursuit and make
good the victory. The next day (August 22) Sir Hew Dalrymple in turn superseded Burrard, and on
the 23rd, General Kellerman approached the English with certain proposals from Junot, which a
week later were formulated by the so-called Convention of Cintra, to which Kellerman and Wellesley
affixed their names. When the news reached England that Napoleon's forces had been repulsed with
loss, and yet the French had been granted a safe exit from Portugal, the generals were assailed with
loud and indiscriminate censure. Burrard's interference with Wellesley's plans was no doubt ill-
judged and ill-timed; but the opportunity of pursuit having been let slip, the acceptance of Junot's
terms was at once politic and inevitable. A court of inquiry, which was held in London in January,
1809, upheld both the armistice of August 22 and the Convention; but neither Dalrymple nor Burrard
ever obtained a second command, and it was not until Talavera (July 28, 1809) had effaced the
memories of Cintra that Wellesley was reinstated in popular favour.]

[bj] {41} ——at the mention sweat.—[MS. D.]

[bk] {42} More restless than the falcon as he flies.—[MS. erased.]

[52] [With reference to this passage, while yet in MS., an early reader (?Dallas) inquires, "What does
this mean?" And a second (?Hobhouse) rejoins, "What does the question mean? It is one of the finest
stanzas I ever read."]

[53] [Byron and Hobhouse sailed from Falmouth, July 2, 1809; reached Lisbon on the 6th or 7th; and
on the 17th started from Aldea Galbega ("the first stage from Lisbon, which is only accessible by
water") on horseback for Seville. "The horses are excellent—we rode seventy miles a day" (see
letters of August 6 to F. Hodgson, and August 11, 1809, to Mrs. Byron; Letters, 1898, i. 234, 236).]

[bl] ——long foreign to his soul.—[MS. erased.]

[bm] ——the strumpet and the bowl.—[MS. D]

[bn] {43} And countries more remote his hopes engage.—[MS. erased.]

[bo]

ere dwelt of yore the Lusians' crazy queen,—[MS.]
ere dwelt of yore Lusania's——.—[D.]

[54] [Her luckless Majesty went subsequently mad; and Dr. Willis, who so dexterously cudgelled
kingly pericraniums, could make nothing of hers. (For the Rev. Francis Willis, see Poetical Works,
1898, i. 416.)

Maria I. (b. 1734), who married her uncle, Pedro III., reigned with him 1777-86, and, as sole
monarch, from 1786 to 1816. The death of her husband, of her favourite confessor, Ignatio de San
Caetano, who had been raised by Pombal from the humblest rank to the position of archbishop in
partibus, and of her son, turned her brain, and she became melancholy mad. She was only queen in

name after 1791, and in 1799 her son, Maria José Luis, was appointed regent. Beckford saw her in
1787, and was impressed by her dignified bearing. "Justice and clemency," he writes, "the motto so
glaringly misapplied on the banner of the abhorred Inquisition, might be transferred, with the strictest
truth, to this good princess" (Italy, with Sketches of Spain and Portugal, 1834, p. 256). Ten years
later, Southey, in his Letters from Spain, 1797, p. 541, ascribes the "gloom" of the court of Lisbon to
"the dreadful malady of the queen." When the Portuguese royal family were about to embark for
Brazil in November, 1807, the queen was once more seen in public after an interval of sixteen years.
"She had to wait some while upon the quay for the chair in which she was to be carried to the boat,
and her countenance, in which the insensibility of madness was only disturbed by wonder, formed a
striking contrast to the grief which appeared in every other face" (Southey's History of the Peninsular
War, i. 110).]

[bp] {44} Childe Burun——.—[MS.]

[bq]

s swoln with culture soon the vales extend
d long horizon-bounded realms appear.—[MS. erased.]

[br] {45} Say Muse what bounds——.—[MS. D.]

[55] The Pyrenees.—[MS.]

[56] [If, as stanza xliii. of this canto (added in 1811) intimates, Byron passed through "Albuera's
plain" on his way from Lisbon to Seville, he must have crossed the frontier at a point between Elvas
and Badajoz. In that case the "silver streamlet" may be identified as the Caia. Beckford remarks on
"the rivulet which separates the two kingdoms" (Italy, etc., 1834, p. 291).]

[bs] {46} But eer the bounds of Spain have far been passed.—[MS. D.]

[bt]

r ever famed—in many a native song.—[MS. erased.]
—a noted song.—[MS. D.]

[57] [Compare Virgil, Æneid, i. 100—

"Ubi tot Simois correpta sub undis
ta virûm galeasque et fortia corpora volvit."]

[58] [The standard, a cross made of Asturian oak (La Cruz de la Victoria), which was said to have
fallen from heaven before Pelayo gained the victory over the Moors at Cangas, in A.D. 718, is
preserved at Oviedo. Compare Southey's Roderick, XXV.: Poetical Works, 1838, ix. 241, and note,
pp. 370, 371.]

[bu] —which Pelagius bore.—[MS. D.]

[59] {47} [The Moors were finally expelled from Granada in 1492, in the reign of Ferdinand and
Isabella.]

[bv] ——waxed the Crescent pale.—[MS. erased.]

[60] [The reference is to the Romanceros and Caballerías of the sixteenth century.]

[bw] ——thy little date.—[MS. erased.]

[bx]

——from rock to rock
e columns soaring loft in sulphury wreath
gments on fragments in contention knock.—[MS. erased, D.]

[61] "The Siroc is the violent hot wind that for weeks together blows down the Mediterranean from
the Archipelago. Its effects are well known to all who have passed the Straits of Gibraltar."—[MS.
D.]

[62] {49} [The battle of Talavera began July 27, 1809, and lasted two days. As Byron must have
reached Seville by the 21st or 22nd of the month, he was not, as might be inferred, a spectator of any
part of the engagement. Writing to his mother, August 11, he says, "You have heard of the battle near
Madrid, and in England they would call it a victory—a pretty victory! Two hundred officers and five
thousand men killed, all English, and the French in as great force as ever. I should have joined the
army, but we have no time to lose before we get up the Mediterranean."—Letters, i. 241.]

[by]

ir rival scarfs that shine so gloriously.—[MS. erased.]
ir rural scarfs——.—[MS. D.]

[63] [Compare Campbell's "Hohenlinden"—"Few, few shall part where many meet."]

[64] {50} [Compare Macbeth, act i. sc. 2, line 51—"Where the Norweyan banners flout the sky."]

[65] [In a letter to Colonel Malcolm, December 3, 1809, the Duke admits that the spoils of conquest
were of a moral rather than of a material kind. "The battle of Talavera was certainly the hardest
fought of modern days.... It is lamentable that, owing to the miserable inefficiency of the Spaniards,
... the glory of the action is the only benefit which we have derived from it.... I have in hand a most
difficult task.... In such circumstances one may fail, but it would be dishonourable to shrink from the
task."—Wellington Dispatches, 1844, iii. 621.]

[bz]

re shall they rot—while rhymers tell the fools
w honour decks the turf that wraps their clay!
rs avaunt!——.—[MS.]

[66] Two lines of Collins' Ode, "How sleep the brave," etc., have been compressed into one—

here Honour comes a pilgrim grey,
bless the turf that wraps their clay."

[ca] But Reason's elf in these beholds——.—[D.]

[cb] {51}

——a fancied throne
if they compassed half that hails their sway.—[MS. erased.]

[cc] ——glorious sound of grief.—[D.]

[67] [The battle of Albuera (May 16, 1811), at which the English, under Lord Beresford, repulsed
Soult, was somewhat of a Pyrrhic victory. "Another such a battle," wrote the Duke, "would ruin us. I
am working hard to put all right again." The French are said to have lost between 8000 and 9000
men, the English 4158, the Spaniards 1365.]

[cd] A scene for mingling foes to boast and bleed.—[D.]

[ce] Yet peace be with the perished—-.—[D. erased.]

[cf] And tears and triumph make their memory long.—[D. erased.]

[cg] ——there sink with other woes.—[D. erased.]

[68] [Albuera was celebrated by Scott, in his Vision of Don Roderick. The Battle of Albuera, a Poem
(anon.), was published in October, 1811.]

[ch] {52} Who sink in darkness——.—[MS. erased.]

[ci] ——swift Rapines path pursued.—[MS. D.]

[cj] To Harold turn we as——.—[MS. erased.]

[69] [In this "particular" Childe Harold did not resemble his alter ego. Hobhouse and "part of the
servants" (Joe Murray, Fletcher, a German, and the "page" Robert Rushton, constituted his "whole
suite"), accompanied Byron in his ride across Spain from Lisbon to Gibraltar. (See Letters, 1898, i.
224, 236.)]

[ck] Where proud Sevilha——.—[MS. D.]

[70] {53} [Byron, en route for Gibraltar, passed three days at Seville at the end of July or the
beginning of August, 1809. By the end of January, 1810, the French had appeared in force before
Seville. Unlike Zaragoza and Gerona, the pleasure-loving city, "after some negotiations, surrendered,
with all its stores, foundries, and arsenal complete, and on the 1st of February the king [Joseph]
entered in triumph" (Napier's History of the War in the Peninsula, ii. 295).]

[71] [A kind of fiddle with only two strings, played on by a bow, said to have been brought by the
Moors into Spain.]

[cl] Not here the Trumpet, but the rebeck sounds.—[MS. erased.]

[cm] And dark-eyed Lewdness——.—[MS. erased.]

[72] [See The Waltz: Poetical Works, 1898, i. 492, note 1.]

[cn] {54} Not in the toils of Glory would ye sweat.—[MS. erased, D.]

[73] [The scene is laid on the heights of the Sierra Morena. The travellers are looking across the
"long level plain" of the Guadalquivir to the mountains of Ronda and Granada, with their "hill-forts
...perched everywhere like eagles' nests" (Ford's Handbook for Spain, i. 252). The French, under
Dupont, entered the Morena, June 2, 1808. They stormed the bridge at Alcolea, June 7, and occupied
Cordoba, but were defeated at Bailen, July 19, and forced to capitulate. Hence the traces of war. The
"Dragon's nest" (line 7) is the ancient city of Jaen, which guards the skirts of the Sierras "like a
watchful Cerberus." It was taken by the French, but recaptured by the Spanish, early in July, 1808
(History of the War in the Peninsula, i. 71-80).]

[74] {55} [The Sierra Morena gets its name from the classical Montes Mariani, not, as Byron seems
to imply, from its dark and dusky aspect.]

[co] {56} ——the never-changing watch.—[MS. D.]

[cp] The South must own——.—[MS. D.]

[cq] When soars Gaul's eagle——.—[MS. D.]

[75] [As time went on, Byron's sentiments with regard to Napoleon underwent a change, and he
hesitates between sympathetic admiration and reluctant disapproval. At the moment his enthusiasm
was roused by Spain's heroic resistance to the new Alaric, "the scourger of the world," and he
expresses himself like Southey "or another" (vide post, Canto III., pp. 238, 239).]

[76] {57} ["A short two-edged knife or dagger ... formerly worn at the girdle" (N. Eng. Dict., art.
"Anlace"). The "anlace" of the Spanish heroines was the national weapon, the puñal, or cuchillo,
which was sometimes stuck in the sash (Handbook for Spain, ii. 803).]

[77] [Compare Macbeth, act v. sc. 5, line 10—

he Time has been, my senses would have cooled
hear a night-shriek."]

[cr]

—-the column-scattering bolt afar,
falchion's flash—[MS. erased, D.]

[cs] {59}

seal Love's rosy finger has imprest
her fair chin denotes how soft his touch:
r lips where kisses make voluptuous nest.—[MS. erased.]

[78] [Writing to his mother (August 11, 1809), Byron compares "the Spanish style" of beauty to the
disadvantage of the English: "Long black hair, dark languishing eyes, clear olive complexions, and
forms more graceful in motion than can be conceived by an Englishman ... render a Spanish beauty
irresistible" (Letters, 1898, i. 239). Compare, too, the opening lines of The Girl of Cadiz, which gave
place to the stanzas To Inez, at the close of this canto—

h never talk again to me
northern climes and British ladies."

But in Don Juan, Canto XII. stanzas lxxiv.-lxxvii., he makes the amende to the fair Briton—

e cannot step as doth an Arab barb,
Or Andalusian girl from mass returning.

though the soil may give you time and trouble,
ll cultivated, it will render double."]

[ct] {60}

auties that need not fear a broken vow.—[MS. erased.]
——a lecher's vow.—[MS.]

[79] [The summit of Parnassus is not visible from Delphi or the neighbourhood. Before he composed
"these stanzas" (December 16), (see note 13.B.) at the foot of Parnassus, Byron had first surveyed its
"snow-clad" majesty as he sailed towards Vostizza (on the southern shore of the Gulf of Corinth),
which he reached on the 5th, and quitted on the 14th of December. "The Echoes" (line 8) which were
celebrated by the ancients (Justin, Hist., lib. xxiv. cap. 6), are those made by the Phædriades, or
"gleaming peaks," a "lofty precipitous escarpment of red and grey limestone" at the head of the
valley of the Pleistus, facing southwards.—Travels in Albania, i. 188, 199; Geography of Greece, by
H. F. Tozer, 1873, p. 230.]

[cu] Not in the landscape of a fabled lay.—[MS. D.]

[80] {61} ["Upon Parnassus, going to the fountain of Delphi (Castri) in 1809, I saw a flight of twelve
eagles (Hobhouse said they were vultures—at least in conversation), and I seized the omen. On the
day before, I composed the lines to Parnassus [in Childe Harold] and, on beholding the birds, had a
hope that Apollo had accepted my homage. I have, at least, had the name and fame of a poet during
the poetical period of life (from twenty to thirty). Whether it will last is another matter; but I have
been a votary of the deity and the place, and am grateful for what he has done in my behalf, leaving
the future in his hands, as I left the past" (B. Diary, 1821).]

[cv] {62} And walks with glassy steps o'er Aganippe's wave.—[MS. erased.]

[cw]

me some remnant of thy Spirit bear
me glorious thought to my petition grant.—[MS. erased, D.]

[81] ["Parnassus ... is distinguished from all other Greek mountains by its mighty mass. This, with its
vast buttresses, almost fills up the rest of the country" (Geography of Greece, by H.F. Tozer, 1873, p.
226).]

[82] {63} [In his first letter from Spain (to F. Hodgson, August 6, 1809) Byron exclaims, "Cadiz,
sweet Cadiz!—it is the first spot in the creation ... Cadiz is a complete Cythera." See, too, letter to
Mrs. Byron, August 11, 1809 (Letters, 1898, i. 234, 239).]

[cx]

ile boyish blood boils gaily, who can 'scape
lurking lures of thy enchanting gaze.—[MS. erased.]

[83] {64} [It must not be supposed that the "thousand altars" of Cadiz correspond with and are in
contrast to the "one dome" of Paphos. The point is that where Venus fixes her shrine, at Paphos or at
Cadiz, altars blaze and worshippers abound (compare Æneid, i. 415-417)—

sa Paphum sublimis abit, sedesque revisit
ta suas, ubi templum illi, centumque Sabæo
e calent aræ."]

[84] [Compare Milton's Paradise Lost, i.—

rom morn
To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve.]

[85] [It was seldom that Byron's memory played him false, but here a vague recollection of a
Shakespearian phrase has beguiled him into a blunder. He is thinking of Hamlet's jibe on the
corruption of manners, "The age is grown so picked that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel
of the courtier, he galls his kibe" (act v. sc. 1, line 150), and he forgets that a kibe is not a heel or a
part of a heel, but a chilblain.]

[cy]

——though in lieu
true devotion monkish temples share
hours misspent, and all in turns is Love or Prayer.——
S. erased.]

[cz] ——or rule the hour in turns.——[D.]

[86] {65} [As he intimates in the Preface to Childe Harold, Byron had originally intended to
introduce "variations" in his poem of a droll or satirical character. Beattie, Thomson, Ariosto, were
sufficient authorities for these humorous episodes. The stanzas on the Convention of Cintra (stanzas
xxv.-xxviii. of the MS.), and the four stanzas on Sir John Carr; the concluding stanzas of the MS.,
which were written in this lighter vein, were suppressed at the instance of Dallas, or Murray, or
Gifford. From a passage in a letter to Dallas (August 21, 1811), it appears that Byron had almost
made up his mind to leave out "the two stanzas of a buffooning cast on London's Sunday" (Letters,
1898, i. 335). But, possibly, owing to their freedom from any compromising personalities, or because
wiser counsels prevailed, they were allowed to stand, and continued (wrote Moore in 1832) to
"disfigure the poem."]

[87] [A whiskey is a light carriage in which the traveller is whisked along.]

[da] {66} And humbler gig——.—[MS.]

[db] And droughty man alights and roars for "Roman Purl."[*]—[MS. D.]

[*] A festive liquor so called. Query why "Roman"? [Query if "Roman"? "'Purl Royal,' Canary wine
with a dash of the tincture of wormwood" (Grose's Class. Dict.).]

----for Punch or Purl.—[D.]

[dc] Some o'er thy Thames convoy——.—[MS. D.]

[88] [Hone's Everyday Book (1827, ii. 80-87) gives a detailed account of the custom of "swearing on
the horns" at Highgate. "The horns, fixed on a pole of about five feet in length, were erected by
placing the pole upright on the ground near the person to be sworn, who is requested to take off his
hat," etc. The oath, or rather a small part of it, ran as follows: "Take notice what I am saying unto
you, for that is the first word of your oath—mind that! You must acknowledge me [the landlord] to
be your adopted father, etc.... You must not eat brown bread while you can get white, except you like
the brown best. You must not drink small beer while you can get strong, except you like the small
best. You must not kiss the maid while you can kiss the mistress, but sooner than lose a good chance
you may kiss them both," etc. Drovers, who frequented the "Gate House" at the top of the hill, and
who wished to keep the tavern to themselves, are said to have been responsible for the rude
beginnings of this tedious foolery.]

[89] {67} [M. Darmesteter quotes a striking passage from Gautier's Voyage en Espagne (xv.), in
appreciation of Cadiz and Byron: "L'aspect de Cadix, en venant du large, est charmant. A la voir ainsi
étincelante de blancheur entre l'azur de la mer et l'azur du ciel, on dirait une immense couronne de
filigrane d'argent; le dôme de la cathédrale, peint en jaune, semble une tiare de vermeil posée au
milieu. Les pots de fleurs, les volutes et les tourelles qui terminent les maisons, varient à l'infini la
dentelure. Byron a merveilleusement caractérisé la physionomie de Cadix en une seule touche:

"Brillante Cadix, qui t'élèves vers le ciel du milieu du bleu foncé de la mer."]

[90] [The actors in a bull-fight consist of three or four classes: the chulos or footmen, the
banderilleros or dart-throwers, the picadores or horsemen, the matadores or espadas the

executioners. Each bull-fight, which lasts about twenty minutes, is divided into three stages or acts.
In the first act the picadores receive the charge of the bull, defending themselves, but not, as a rule,
attacking the foe with their lances or garrochas. In the second act the chulos, who are not mounted,
wave coloured cloaks or handkerchiefs in the bull's face, and endeavour to divert his fury from the
picadores, in case they have been thrown or worsted in the encounter. At the same time, the
banderilleros are at pains to implant in either side of the bull's neck a number of barbed darts
ornamented with cut paper, and, sometimes, charged with detonating powder. It is de rigeur to plant
the barbs exactly on either side. In the third and final act, the protagonist, the matador or espada, is
the sole performer. His function is to entice the bull towards him by waving the muleta or red flag,
and, standing in front of the animal, to inflict the death-wound by plunging his sword between the
left shoulder and the blade. "The teams of mules now enter, glittering with flags and tinkling with
bells, whose gay decorations contrast with the stern cruelty and blood; the dead bull is carried off at a
rapid gallop, which always delights the populace."—Handbook for Spain, by Richard Ford, 1898, i.
67-76.]

[91] {70} "The croupe is a particular leap taught in the manège."—[MS.] [Croupe, or croup, denotes
the hind quarters of a horse. Compare Scott's ballad of "Young Lochinvar"—"So light to the croupe
the fair lady he swung." Here it is used for "croupade," "a high curvet in which the hind legs are
brought up under the belly of the horse" (N. Eng. Dict., art. "Croupade.")]

[92] {71} ["Brast" for "burst" is found in Spenser (Faërie Queene, i. 9. 21. 7), and is still current in
Lancashire dialect. See Lanc. Gloss. (E. D. S. "brast").]

[93] [One bull-fight, one matador. In describing the last act Byron confuses the chulos or cloak-
waving footmen, who had already played their part, with the single champion, the matador, who is
about to administer the coup de grâce.]

[dd] ——he lies along the sand.—[MS. erased.]

[de]

The trophy corse is reared—disgusting prize.
The corse is reared—sparkling the chariot flies.—[MS. M.]

[94] [Compare Virgil, Æneid, viii. 264—

"Pedibusque informe cadaver
trahitur. Nequeunt expleri corda tuendo—"]

[95] {72} "The Spaniards are as revengeful as ever. At Santa Otella, I heard a young peasant threaten
to stab a woman (an old one, to be sure, which mitigates the offence), and was told, on expressing
some small surprise, that this ethic was by no means uncommon."—[MS.]

[96] [Byron's "orthodoxy" of the word "centinel" was suggested by the Spanish centinela, or,
perhaps, by Spenser's "centonell" (Faërie Queene, bk. i. c. ix. st. 41, line 8).]

[df]

d all whereat the wandering soul revolts
ich that stern dotard dreamed he could encage.—[MS. erased.]

[dg] {73}

l from the heart of Joy's delicious springs
me Bitter bubbles up, and even on Roses stings.—[MS.]

[97] [The Dallas Transcript reads "itself," but the MS. and earlier editions "herself."]

[dh] {74}

Had buried then his hopes, no more to rise:
Drugged with dull pleasure! life-abhorring Gloom
ote on his faded brow curst Cain's wandering doom.—[MS. erased.]
Had buried there.—[MS. D.]

[98] [Byron's belief or, rather, haunting dread, that he was predestined to evil is to be traced to the
Calvinistic teaching of his boyhood (compare Childe Harold, Canto III. stanza lxx. lines 8, 9; and
Canto IV. stanza xxxiv. line 6). Lady Byron regarded this creed of despair as the secret of her
husband's character, and the source of his aberrations. In a letter to H. C. Robinson, March 5, 1855,
she writes, "Not merely from casual expressions, but from the whole tenour of Lord Byron's feelings,
I could not but conclude he was a believer in the inspiration of the Bible, and had the gloomiest
Calvinistic tenets. To that unhappy view of the relation of the creature to the Creator, I have always
ascribed the misery of his life.... Instead of being made happier by any apparent good, he felt
convinced that every blessing would be 'turned into a curse' to him. Who, possessed by such ideas,
could lead a life of love and service to God or man? They must in a measure realize themselves. 'The
worst of it is, I do believe,' he said. I, like all connected with him, was broken against the rock of
predestination."]

[99] {75} "Stanzas to be inserted after stanza 86th in Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, instead of the song
at present in manuscript."-[MS. note to "To Inez."] [The stanzas To Inez are dated January 25, 1810,
on which day Byron and Hobhouse visited Marathon. Most likely they were addressed to Theresa
Macri, the "Maid of Athens," or some favourite of the moment, and not to "Florence" (Mrs. Spencer
Smith), whom he had recently (January 16) declared emerita to the tune of "The spell is broke, the
charm is flown." A fortnight later (February 10), Hobhouse, accompanied by the Albanian Vasilly and
the Athenian Demetrius, set out for the Negroponte. "Lord Byron was unexpectedly detained at
Athens" (Travels in Albania, i. 390). (For the stanzas to The Girl of Cadiz, which were suppressed in
favour of those To Inez, see Poetical Works, 1891, p. 14, and vol. iii. of the present issue.)]

[100] {76} [Compare Horace, Odes, II. xvi. 19, 20—

"Patriæ quis exsul
quoque fugit?"]

[di]

To other zones howe'er remote
l, still pursuing clings to me.—[MS. erased.]

[101] [Compare Prior's Solomon, bk. iii. lines 85, 86—

the remotest wood and lonely grot
tain to meet that worst of evils—thought."]

[102] {77} [Cadiz was captured from the Moors by Alonso el Sabio, in 1262. It narrowly escaped a
siege, January-February, 1810. Soult commenced a "serious bombardment," May 16, 1812, but, three
months later, August 24, the siege was broken up. Stanza lxxxv. is not in the original MS.]

[103] {78} [Charles IV. abdicated March 19, 1808, in favour of his son Ferdinand VII.; and in the
following May, Charles once more abdicated on his own behalf, and Ferdinand for himself and his
heirs, in favour of Napoleon. Thenceforward Charles was an exile, and Ferdinand a prisoner at
Valençay, and Spain, so far as the Bourbons were concerned, remained "kingless," until motives of
policy procured the release of the latter, who re-entered his kingdom March 22, 1814.]

[dj]

who would more of Spain and Spaniards know,
ights, Saints, Antiques, Arts, Anecdotes and War,
Go hie ye hence to Paternoster Row—
Are they not written in the Boke of Carr,[A]
Green Erin's Knight and Europe's wandering star!
Then listen, Readers, to the Man of Ink,
Hear what he did, and sought, and wrote afar;
All those are cooped within one Quarto's brink,
s borrow, steal,—don't buy,—and tell us what you think.

re may you read with spectacles on eyes,
How many Wellesleys did embark for Spain,[B]
As if therein they meant to colonise,
How many troops y-crossed the laughing main
That ne'er beheld the said return again:
How many buildings are in such a place,
How many leagues from this to yonder plain,
How many relics each cathedral grace,
d where Giralda stands on her gigantic base.[C]

re may you read (Oh, Phoebus, save Sir John!
That these my words prophetic may not err)[D]
All that was said, or sung, and lost, or won,
By vaunting Wellesley or by blundering Frere,[E]
He that wrote half the "Needy Knife-Grinder,"[F]

Thus Poesy the way to grandeur paves—[G]
Who would not such diplomatists prefer?
But cease, my Muse, thy speed some respite craves,
ve legates to the House, and armies to their graves.

here of Vulpes mention may be made,[H][J]
Who for the Junta modelled sapient laws,
Taught them to govern ere they were obeyed:
Certes fit teacher to command, because
His soul Socratic no Xantippe awes;
Blest with a Dame in Virtue's bosom nurst,—
With her let silent Admiration pause!—
True to her second husband and her first:
such unshaken fame let Satire do its worst.

[A] "Porphyry said that the prophecies of Daniel were written after their completion, and such may
be my fate here; but it requires no second sight to foretell a tome; the first glimpse of the knight was
enough."—[MS.]

["I have seen Sir John Carr at Seville and Cadiz, and, like Swift's barber, have been down on my
knees to beg he would not put me into black and white" (letter to Hodgson, August 6, 1809, Letters,
1898, i. 235, note).]

[B] "I presume Marquis and Mr. and Pole and Sir A. are returned by this time, and eke the bewildered
Frere whose conduct was canvassed by the Commons."—[MS.]

[A motion which had been brought forward in the House of Commons, February 24, 1809, "to
inquire into the causes ...of the late campaign in Spain," was defeated, but the Government recalled J.
Hookham Frere, British Minister to the Supreme Junta, and nominated the Marquis Wellesley
Ambassador Extraordinary to Seville. Wellesley landed in Spain early in August, but a duel which
took place, September 21, between Perceval and Canning led to changes in the ministry, and, with a
view to taking office, he left Cadiz November 10, 1809. His brother, Henry Wellesley (1773-1847,
first Baron Cowley), succeeded him as Envoy Extraordinary. If "Mr." stands for Henry Wellesley,
"Pole" may be William Wellesley Pole, afterwards third Earl of Mornington.]

[C][The base of the Giralda, the cathedral tower at Seville, is a square of fifty feet. The pinnacle of
the filigree belfry, which surmounts the original Moorish tower, "is crowned with El Girardillo, a
bronze statue of La Fé, The Faith.... Although 14 feet high, and weighing 2800 lbs., it turns with the
slightest breeze."—Ford's Handbook for Spain, i. 174.]

[D][Vide ante, p. 78, note 2.]

[E]By shrivelled Wellesley——.—[MS. erased.]

[F] "The Needy Knife-grinder," in the Anti-Jacobin, was a joint production of Messrs. Frere and
Canning.

[G]

ne better known for doing things by halves
many in our Senate did aver.—[MS. erased.]

[H] Yet surely Vulpes merits some applause.—[MS. erased.]

[J] [Henry Richard Vassall Fox, second Lord Holland (1773-1840), accompanied Sir David Baird to
Corunna, September, 1808, and made a prolonged tour in Spain, returning in the autumn of 1809. He
suggested to the Junta of Seville to extend their functions as a committee of defence, and proposed a
new constitution. His wife, Elizabeth Vassall, the daughter of a rich Jamaica planter, was first married
(June 27, 1786) to Sir Godfrey Webster, Bart. Sir Godfrey divorced his wife July 3, 1797, and three
days later she was married to Lord Holland. She had lived with him for some time previously, and
before the divorce had borne him a son, Charles Richard Fox (1796-1873), who was acknowledged
by Lord Holland.]

[104] {81} [Stanzas lxxxviii.-xciii., which record the battles of Barossa (March 5, 1811) and Albuera
(May 16, 1811), and the death of Byron's school-friend Wingfield (May 14, 1811), were written at
Newstead in August, 1811, and take the place of four omitted stanzas (q.v. supra).]

[105] [Francisco Pizarro (1480-1541), with his brothers, Hernando, Juan Gonzalo, and his half-
brother Martin de Alcantara, having revisited Spain, set sail for Panama in 1530. During his progress
southward from Panama, he took the island of Puna, which formed part of the province of Quito. His
defeat and treacherous capture of Atuahalpa, King of Quito, younger brother of Huascar the Supreme
Inca, took place in 1532, near the town of Caxamarca, in Peno (Mod. Univ. History, 1763, xxxviii.
295, seq.). Spain's weakness during the Napoleonic invasion was the opportunity of her colonies.
Quito, the capital of Ecuador, rose in rebellion, August 10, 1810, and during the same year Mexico
and La Plata began their long struggle for independence.]

[106] {82} [During the American War of Independence (1775-83), and afterwards during the French
Revolution, it was the custom to plant trees as "symbols of growing freedom." The French trees were
decorated with "caps of Liberty." No such trees had ever been planted in Spain. (See note by the Rev.
E.C. Everard Owen, Childe Harold, 1897, p. 158.)]

[dk]

d thou, my friend! since thus my selfish woe
to weaken in
rsts from my heart, {however light my strain,
for ever light the——.—[D.]
d the sword laid thee, with the mighty, low
de had forbade me of thy fall to plain.—[MS. D.]

[107] [Compare the In Memoriam stanzas at the end of Beattie's Minstrel—"And am I left to
unavailing woe?" II. 63, line 2.]

[dl] {83} ——belov'd the most.—[MS. D.]

[108] [With reference to this stanza, Byron wrote to Dallas, October 25, 1811 (Letters, 1898, ii. 58,
59), "I send you a conclusion to the whole. In a stanza towards the end of Canto I. in the line,

h, known the earliest and beloved the most,

I shall alter the epithet to 'esteemed the most.'"]

[dm] ——where none so long was dear.—[MS. D.]

[dn] And fancy follow to——.—[MS. D.]

[109] "Fytte" means "part."—[Note erased.]

NOTES

TO

CHILDE HAROLD'S
PILGRIMAGE .
CANTO I.

1.

! sighed o'er Delphi's long deserted shrine.
Stanza i. line 6.

T he little village of Castri stands partially on the site of Delphi. Along
the path of the mountain, from Chrysso, are the remains of sepulchres hewn
in and from the rock:—"One," said the guide, "of a king who broke his neck
hunting." His majesty had certainly chosen the fittest spot for such an
achievement.

A little above Castri is a cave, supposed the Pythian, of immense depth;
the upper part of it is paved, and now a cowhouse.

On the other side of Castri stands a Greek monastery; some way above
which is the cleft in the rock, with a range of caverns difficult of ascent, and
apparently leading to the interior of the mountain; probably to the Corycian
Cavern mentioned by Pausanias. From this part descend the fountain and
the "Dews of Castalie."

[Byron and Hobhouse slept at Crissa December 15, and visited Delphi
December 16, 1809.—Travels in Albania, i. 199-209.]

2.

d rest ye at "Our Lady's house of Woe."
Stanza xx. line 4.

The convent of "Our Lady of Punishment," Nossa Señora de Pena, on
the summit of the rock. Below, at some distance, is the Cork Convent,
where St. Honorius dug his den, over which is his epitaph. From the hills,
the sea adds to the beauty of the view.—[Note to First Edition.] Since the
publication of this poem, I have been informed [by W. Scott, July 1, 1812]
of the misapprehension of the term Nossa Señora de Pena. It was owing to
the want of the tilde, or mark over the ñ, which alters the signification of the

word: with it, Peña signifies a rock; without it, Pena has the sense I
adopted. I do not think it necessary to alter the passage; as, though the
common acceptation affixed to it is "Our Lady of the Rock," I may well
assume the other sense from the severities practised there.—[Note to
Second Edition.]

3.

oughout this purple land, where Law secures not life.
Stanza xxi. line 9.

It is a well-known fact that in the year 1809, the assassinations in the
streets of Lisbon and its vicinity were not confined by the Portuguese to
their countrymen; but that Englishmen were daily butchered: and so far
from redress being obtained, we were requested not to interfere if we
perceived any compatriot defending himself against his allies. I was once
stopped in the way to the theatre at eight o'clock in the evening, when the
streets were not more empty than they generally are at that hour, opposite to
an open shop, and in a carriage with a friend: had we not fortunately been
armed, I have not the least doubt that we should have "adorned a tale"
instead of telling one. The crime of assassination is not confined to
Portugal; in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at a handsome
average nightly, and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ever punished!

4.

old the hall where chiefs were late convened!
Stanza xxiv. line 1.

The Convention of Cintra was signed in the palace of the Marchese
Marialva. The late exploits of Lord Wellington have effaced the follies of
Cintra. He has, indeed, done wonders; he has perhaps changed the character

of a nation, reconciled rival superstitions, and baffled an enemy who never
retreated before his predecessor.

["The armistice, the negotiations, the convention, the execution of its
provisions, were commenced, conducted, concluded, at the distance of
thirty miles from Cintra, with which place they had not the slightest
connection, political, military, or local. Yet Lord Byron has sung that the
convention was signed in the Marquis of Marialva's house at Cintra"
(Napier's History of the War in the Peninsula, i. 161). The "suspension of
arms" is dated "Head Quarters of the British Army, August 22, 1808." The
"Definitive Convention for the Evacuation of Portugal by the British Army"
is dated "Head Quarters, Lisbon, August 30, 1808." (See Wordsworth's
pamphlet Concerning the Relations of Great Britain, Spain, and Portugal,
etc., 1809, App. pp. 199-201. For sentiments almost identical with those
expressed in stanzas xxiv., xxv., see ibid., p. 49, et passim.)]

5.

Mafra shall one moment claim delay.
Stanza xxix. line 1.

The extent of Mafra is prodigious; it contains a palace, convent, and
most superb church. The six organs are the most beautiful I ever beheld, in
point of decoration: we did not hear them, but were told that their tones
were correspondent to their splendour. Mafra is termed the Escurial of
Portugal.

[Mafra was built by D. João V. The foundation-stone was laid November
7, 1717, and the church consecrated October 22, 1730. (For descriptions of
Mafra, see Southey's Life and Correspondence, ii. 113; and Letters, 1898, i.
237.)]

6.

Well doth the Spanish hind the difference know
ixt him and Lusian slave, the lowest of the low.
Stanza xxxiii. lines 8 and 9.

As I found the Portuguese, so I have characterised them. That they are
since improved, at least in courage, is evident.

[The following "Note on Spain and Portugal," part of the original draft
of Note 3 (p. 86), was suppressed at the instance of Dallas: "We have heard
wonders of the Portuguese lately, and their gallantry. Pray Heaven it
continue; yet 'would it were bed-time, Hal, and all were well!' They must
fight a great many hours, by 'Shrewsbury clock,' before the number of their
slain equals that of our countrymen butchered by these kind creatures, now
metamorphosed into 'Caçadores,' and what not. I merely state a fact, not
confined to Portugal; for in Sicily and Malta we are knocked on the head at
a handsome average nightly, and not a Sicilian or Maltese is ever punished!
The neglect of protection is disgraceful to our government and governors;
for the murders are as notorious as the moon that shines upon them, and the
apathy that overlooks them. The Portuguese, it is to be hoped, are
complimented with the 'Forlorn Hope,'—if the cowards are become brave
(like the rest of their kind, in a corner), pray let them display it. But there is
a subscription for these θρασύδειλοι[110] (they need not be ashamed of the
epithet once applied to the Spartans); and all the charitable patronymics,
from ostentatious A. to diffident Z., and £1 1s. 0d. from 'An Admirer of
Valour,' are in requisition for the lists at Lloyd's, and the honour of British
benevolence. Well! we have fought, and subscribed, and bestowed peerages,
and buried the killed by our friends and foes; and, lo! all this is to be done
over again! Like Lien Chi (in Goldsmith's Citizen of the World), as we
'grow older, we grow never the better.' It would be pleasant to learn who
will subscribe for us, in or about the year 1815, and what nation will send
fifty thousand men, first to be decimated in the capital, and then decimated
again (in the Irish fashion, nine out of ten), in the 'bed of honour;' which, as

Serjeant Kite says [in Farquhar's Recruiting Officer, act i. sc. 1], is
considerably larger and more commodious than 'the bed of Ware.' Then they
must have a poet to write the 'Vision of Don Perceval,'[111] and generously
bestow the profits of the well and widely printed quarto, to rebuild the
'Backwynd' and the 'Canongate,' or furnish new kilts for the half-roasted
Highlanders. Lord Wellington, however, has enacted marvels; and so did his
Oriental brother, whom I saw charioteering over the French flag, and heard
clipping bad Spanish, after listening to the speech of a patriotic cobler of
Cadiz, on the event of his own entry into that city, and the exit of some five
thousand bold Britons out of this 'best of all possible worlds' [Pangloss, in
Candide]. Sorely were we puzzled how to dispose of that same victory of
Talavera; and a victory it surely was somewhere, for everybody claimed it.
The Spanish despatch and mob called it Cuesta's, and made no great
mention of the Viscount; the French called it theirs[1] (to my great
discomfiture,—for a French consul stopped my mouth in Greece with a
pestilent Paris Gazette, just as I had killed Sebastiani'[112] 'in buckram,' and
King Joseph 'in Kendal green'),—and we have not yet determined what to
call it, or whose; for, certes, it was none of our own. Howbeit, Massena's
retreat [May, 1811] is a great comfort; and as we have not been in the habit
of pursuing for some years past, no wonder we are a little awkward at first.
No doubt we shall improve; or, if not, we have only to take to our old way
of retrograding, and there we are at home."—Recollections of the Life of
Lord Byron, 1824, pp. 179-185.]

7.

en Cava's traitor-sire first called the band
t dyed thy mountain streams with Gothic gore.
Stanza xxxv. lines 3 and 4.

Count Julian's daughter, the Helen of Spain. Pelagius preserved his
independence in the fastnesses of the Asturias, and the descendants of his

followers, after some centuries, completed their struggle by the conquest of
Grenada.

[Roderick the Goth violated Florinda, or Caba, or Cava, daughter of
Count Julian, one of his principal lieutenants. In revenge for this outrage,
Julian allied himself with Musca, the Caliph's lieutenant in Africa, and
countenanced the invasion of Spain by a body of Saracens and Africans
commanded by Tarik, from whom Jebel Tarik, Tarik's Rock, that is,
Gibraltar, is said to have been named. The issue was the defeat and death of
Roderick and the Moorish occupation of Spain. A Spaniard, according to
Cervantes, may call his dog, but not his daughter, Florinda. (See Vision of
Don Roderick, by Sir W. Scott, stanza iv. note 5.)]

8.

as he speeds, he chants "Vivā el Rey!"
Stanza xlviii. line 5.

"Vivā el Rey Fernando!" Long live King Ferdinand! is the chorus of
most of the Spanish patriotic songs. They are chiefly in dispraise of the old
King Charles, the Queen, and the Prince of Peace. I have heard many of
them: some of the airs are beautiful. Godoy, the Principe de la Paz, of an
ancient but decayed family, was born at Badajoz, on the frontiers of
Portugal, and was originally in the ranks of the Spanish guards; till his
person attracted the queen's eyes, and raised him to the dukedom of
Alcudia, etc., etc. It is to this man that the Spaniards universally impute the
ruin of their country.

[Manuel de Godoy (1767-1851) received the title of Principe de la Paz,
Prince of the Peace, in 1795, after the Treaty of Basle, which ceded more
than half St. Domingo to France. His tenure of power, as prime minister and
director of the king's policy, coincided with the downfall of Spanish power,
and before the commencement of the Peninsular War he was associated in
the minds of the people with national corruption and national degradation.

He was, moreover, directly instrumental in the betrayal of Spain to France.
By the Treaty of Fontainebleau, October 27, 1807, Portugal was to be
divided between the King of Etruria and Godoy as Prince of the Algarves,
Portuguese America was to fall to the King of Spain, and to bring this about
Napoleon's troops were to enter Spain and march directly to Lisbon. The
sole outcome of the treaty was the occupation of Portugal and subsequent
invasion of Spain. Before Byron had begun his pilgrimage, Godoy's public
career had come to an end. During the insurrection at Aranjuez, March 17-
19, 1808, when Charles IV. abdicated in favour of his son Ferdinand VII.,
Godoy was only preserved from the fury of the populace by a timely
imprisonment. In the following May, by which time Ferdinand himself was
a prisoner in France, he was released at the instance of Murat, and ordered
to accompany Charles to Bayonne, for the express purpose of cajoling his
master into a second abdication in favour of Napoleon. The remainder of
his long life was passed, first at Rome, and afterwards at Paris, in exile and
dependence. The execration of Godoy, "who was really a mild, good-
natured man," must, in Napier's judgment, be attributed to Spanish venom
and Spanish prejudice. The betrayal of Spain was, he thinks, the outcome of
Ferdinand's intrigues no less than of Godoy's unpatriotic ambition. Another
and perhaps truer explanation of popular odium is to be found in his
supposed atheism and well-known indifference to the rites of the Church,
which many years before had attracted the attention of the Holy Office. The
peasants cursed Godoy because the priests triumphed over his downfall
(Napier's History of the War in the Peninsula, i. 8; Southey's Peninsular
War, i. 85 note, 93, 215, 280).]

9.

rs in his cap the badge of crimson hue,
ich tells you whom to shun and whom to greet.
Stanza l. lines 2 and 3.

The red cockade, with "Fernando Septimo" in the centre.

10.

ball-piled pyramid, the ever-blazing match.
Stanza li. line 9.

All who have seen a battery will recollect the pyramidal form in which
shot and shells are piled. The Sierra Morena was fortified in every defile
through which I passed in my way to Seville.

11.

ed by a woman's hand, before a battered wall.
Stanza lvi. line 9.

Such were the exploits of the Maid of Saragoza, who by her valour
elevated herself to the highest rank of heroines. When the author was at
Seville, she walked daily on the Prado, decorated with medals and orders,
by command of the Junta.

[The story, as told by Southey (who seems to have derived his
information from The Narrative of the Siege of Zaragoza, by Charles
Richard Vaughan, M.B., 1809), is that "Augustina Zaragoza (sic), a
handsome woman of the lower class, about twenty-two years of age," a
vivandiere, in the course of her rounds came with provisions to a battery
near the Portello gate. The gunners had all been killed, and, as the citizens
held back, "Augustina sprang over the dead and dying, snatched a match
from the hand of a dead artilleryman, and fired off a twenty-six pounder;
then, jumping upon the gun, made a solemn vow never to quit it alive
during the siege."

After the retreat of the French, "a pension was settled upon Augustina,
and the daily pay of an artilleryman. She was also to wear a small shield of
honour, embroidered upon the sleeve of her gown, with 'Zaragoza' inscribed
upon it" (Southey's Peninsular War, ii. 14, 34).

Napier, "neither wholly believing nor absolutely denying these exploits,"
which he does not condescend to give in detail, remarks "that for a long
time afterwards, Spain swarmed with Zaragoza heroines, clothed in half-
uniforms, and theatrically loaded with weapons."

A picture of "The Defence of Saragossa," painted by Sir David Wilkie,
which contained her portrait, was exhibited in the Royal Academy in 1829,
and was purchased by the king (Napier's History of the War in the
Peninsula, i. 45; Life of Sir D. Wilkie, by John W. Mollett, 1881, p. 83).
Compare, too, The Age of Bronze, vii. lines 53-56—

" ... the desperate wall
Saragossa, mightiest in her fall;
man nerved to a spirit, and the maid
ving her more than Amazonian blade."]

12.

seal Love's dimpling finger hath impressed
Denotes how soft that chin which bears his touch.
Stanza lviii. lines 1 and 2.

gilla in mento impressa Amoris digitulo
Vestigio demonstrant mollitudinem."
Aul. Gel.

[The quotation does not occur in Aulus Gellius, but is a fragment in
iambic metre from the Papia papæ περὶ ἐγκωμίων of M. Terentius Varro,
cited by the grammarian Nonius Marcellus (De Comp. Doct., ii. 135, lines
19-23). Sigilla is a variant of the word in the text, laculla, a diminutive of
lacuna, signifying a dimple in the chin. Lacullum is not to be found in
Facciolati. (Vide Riese, Varro. Satur. Menipp. Rel., 1865, p. 164.)]

13.

thou Parnassus!
Stanza lx. line 1.

These stanzas were written in Castri (Delphos), at the foot of Parnassus,
now called Λιακυρα (Liakura), Dec. [16], 1809.

14.

is proud Seville; let her country boast
Her strength, her wealth, her site of ancient days.
Stanza lxv. lines 1 and 2.

Seville was the Hispalis of the Romans.

15.

ye, Boeotian Shades! the reason why?
Stanza lxx. line 5.

This was written at Thebes, and consequently in the best situation for
asking and answering such a question; not as the birthplace of Pindar, but as
the capital of Boeotia, where the first riddle was propounded and solved.

[Byron reached Thebes December 22, 1809. By the first riddle he means,
of course, the famous enigma of Oedipus—the prototype of Boeotian wit.]

16.

me bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings.
Stanza lxxxii. line 9.

"Medio de fonte leporum
git amari aliquid quod in ipseis floribus angat."
Lucr., iv. 1133.

17.

raitor only fell beneath the feud.
Stanza lxxxv. line 7.

Alluding to the conduct and death of Solano, the governor of Cadiz, in
May, 1808.

[The Marquis of Solano, commander-in-chief of the forces at Cadiz, was
murdered by the populace. The "Supreme Junta" of Seville had directed him
to attack the French fleet anchored off Cadiz, and Admiral Purvis, acting in
concert with General Spencer, had offered to co-operate, but Solano was
unwilling to take his orders "from a self-constituted authority, and hesitated
to commit his country in war with a power whose strength he knew better
than the temper of his countrymen." "His abilities, courage, and
unblemished character have never been denied."—Napier's War in the
Peninsula, i. 20, 21.]

18.

ar even to the knife!"
Stanza lxxxvi. line 9.

"War to the knife." Palafox's answer to the French general at the siege of
Saragoza.

[Towards the close of the first siege of Zaragoza, August 5, 1808,
Marshal Lefebvre (1755-1820), under the impression that the city had fallen
into his hands, "required Palafox to surrender in these words: 'Quartel-
general, Santa Engracia. La Capitulation!' ['Head-quarters, St. Engracia.
Capitulation']. The reply was, 'Quartel-general, Zaragoza. Guerra al
cuchillo' ['Head-quarters, Zaragoza. War at the knife's point']."
Subsequently, December, 1808, when Moncey (1754-1842) again called
upon him to surrender, he appealed to the people of Madrid. "The dogs," he

said, "by whom he was beset scarcely left him time to clean his sword from
their blood; but they still found their grave at Zaragoza." Southey notes that
"all Palafox's proclamations had the high tone and something of the
inflection of Spanish romance, suiting the character of those to whom it was
directed" (Peninsular War, ii. 25; iii. 152; Narrative of the Siege, by C. R.
Vaughan, 1809, pp. 22, 23). Napier, whose account of the first siege of
Zaragoza is based on Caballero's Victoires et Conquètes des Français, and
on the Journal of Lefebvre's Operations (MSS.), does not record these
romantic incidents. He attributes the raising of the siege to the "bad
discipline of the French, and the system of terror established by the Spanish
leaders." The inspirers and proclaimers of "war even to the knife" were, he
maintains, Tio or Goodman Jorge (Jorge Ibort) and Tio Murin, and not
Palafox, who was ignorant of war, and who, on more than one occasion,
was careful to provide for his own safety (History of the War in the
Peninsula, i. 41-46).]

19.

d thou, my friend! etc.
Stanza xci. line 1.

The Honourable John Wingfield, of the Guards, who died of a fever at
Coimbra (May 14, 1811). I had known him ten years, the better half of his
life, and the happiest part of mine. In the short space of one month I have
lost her who gave me being, and most of those who had made that being
tolerable. To me the lines of Young are no fiction—

atiate archer! could not one suffice?
shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain,
d thrice ere thrice yon moon had fill'd her horn."

Night Thoughts: The Complaint, Night i.
(London, 1825, p. 5).

I should have ventured a verse to the memory of the late Charles Skinner
Matthews, Fellow of Downing College, Cambridge, were he not too much
above all praise of mine. His powers of mind, shown in the attainment of
greater honours, against the ablest candidates, than those of any graduate on
record at Cambridge, have sufficiently established his fame on the spot
where it was acquired; while his softer qualities live in the recollection of
friends who loved him too well to envy his superiority. [To an objection
made by Dallas to this note, Byron replied, "I was so sincere in my note on
the late Charles Matthews, and do feel myself so totally unable to do justice
to his talents, that the passage must stand for the very reason you bring
against it. To him all the men I ever knew were pigmies. He was an
intellectual giant. It is true I loved Wingfield better; he was the earliest and
the dearest, and one of the few one could never repent of having loved: but
in ability—ah! you did not know Matthews,!"—Letters, 1898, ii. 8. [For
Charles Skinner Matthews, and the Honourable John Wingfield, see Letters,
1898, i. 150 note, 180 note. See, too, "Childish Recollections," Poems,
1898, i. 96, note.]

FOOTNOTES:

[110] {88} [Vide post, p. 196, note 1.]

[111] [In a letter to J. B. S. Morritt, April 26, 1811, Sir Walter Scott writes, "I meditate some wild
stanzas referring to the Peninsula; if I can lick them into any shape, I hope to get something
handsome from the booksellers for the Portuguese sufferers: 'Silver and gold have I none, but that
which I have I will give unto them.' My lyrics are called The Vision of Don Roderick." —Lockhart's
Mem. of the Life of Sir W. Scott, 1871, p. 205.]

[112] {89} [François Horace Bastien Sebastiani (1772-1851), one of Napoleon's generals, defeated
the Spanish at Ciudad Real, March 17, 1809. In his official report he said that he had sabred more
than 3000 Spaniards in flight. At the battle of Talavera, July 27, his corps suffered heavily; but at
Almonacid, August 11, he was again victorious over the Spanish.]

CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE
CANTO THE SECOND.

C hilde H arold
Canto 2.
Byron. Joannina in Albania.
Begun Oct. 31st 1809.
Concluded Canto 2. Smyrna.
March 28th, 1810. [MS. D.]

CANTO THE SECOND
I.[113]

me , blue-eyed Maid of Heaven!—but Thou, alas!
Didst never yet one mortal song inspire—
Goddess of Wisdom! here thy temple was,
And is, despite of War and wasting fire, [1.B.]
And years, that bade thy worship to expire:
ut worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow, [2.B.]
s the dread sceptre and dominion dire
Of men who never felt the sacred glow
t thoughts of thee and thine on polished breasts bestow.

II.

ient of days! august Athena! where,[do]
Where are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?
Gone—glimmering through the dream of things that were:[dp]
irst in the race that led to Glory's goal,
hey won, and passed away—is this the whole?
A schoolboy's tale, the wonder of an hour!
he Warrior's weapon and the Sophist's stole[114]
Are sought in vain, and o'er each mouldering tower,
m with the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.[dq]

III.

of the Morning, rise! approach you here!

ome—but molest not yon defenceless Urn:
ook on this spot—a Nation's sepulchre!
Abode of Gods, whose shrines no longer burn.[dr]
ven Gods must yield—Religions take their turn:
Twas Jove's—'tis Mahomet's—and other Creeds
Will rise with other years, till Man shall learn
Vainly his incense soars, his victim bleeds;
r child of Doubt and Death, whose hope is built on reeds.[ds]

IV.

nd to the Earth, he lifts his eye to Heaven—
s't not enough, Unhappy Thing! to know
hou art? Is this a boon so kindly given,
hat being, thou would'st be again, and go,
hou know'st not, reck'st not to what region, so[115]
On Earth no more, but mingled with the skies?
till wilt thou dream on future Joy and Woe?[dt]
egard and weigh yon dust before it flies:
t little urn saith more than thousand Homilies.

V.

burst the vanished Hero's lofty mound;
ar on the solitary shore he sleeps: [3.B.]
He fell, and falling nations mourned around;
ut now not one of saddening thousands weeps,
Nor warlike worshipper his vigil keeps
Where demi-gods appeared, as records tell.[du][116]
emove yon skull from out the scattered heaps:
s that a Temple where a God may dwell?
y ev'n the Worm at last disdains her shattered cell!

VI.

k on its broken arch, its ruined wall,
s chambers desolate, and portals foul:
Yes, this was once Ambition's airy hall,
he Dome of Thought, the Palace of the Soul:
ehold through each lack-lustre, eyeless hole,
he gay recess of Wisdom and of Wit[117]
And Passion's host, that never brooked control:
an all Saint, Sage, or Sophist ever writ,
ple this lonely tower, this tenement refit?

VII.

l didst thou speak, Athena's wisest son![118]
All that we know is, nothing can be known."
Why should we shrink from what we cannot shun?
ach hath its pang, but feeble sufferers groan
With brain-born dreams of Evil all their own.
ursue what Chance or Fate proclaimeth best;
eace waits us on the shores of Acheron:
here no forced banquet claims the sated guest,
Silence spreads the couch of ever welcome Rest.

VIII.[119]

if, as holiest men have deemed, there be[dv]
A land of Souls beyond that sable shore,
o shame the Doctrine of the Sadducee
And Sophists, madly vain of dubious lore;
How sweet it were in concert to adore
With those who made our mortal labours light!
o hear each voice we feared to hear no more!

ehold each mighty shade revealed to sight,
Bactrian, Samian sage, and all who taught the Right!

IX.[120]

re, Thou!—whose Love and Life together fled,
Have left me here to love and live in vain—
wined with my heart, and can I deem thee dead
When busy Memory flashes on my brain?
Well—I will dream that we may meet again,
And woo the vision to my vacant breast:
aught of young Remembrance then remain,
e as it may Futurity's behest,[dw]
me 'twere bliss enough to know thy spirit blest!

X.

e let me sit upon this massy stone,
he marble column's yet unshaken base;
Here, son of Saturn! was thy favourite throne: [4.B.]
Mightiest of many such! Hence let me trace
he latent grandeur of thy dwelling-place.
may not be: nor ev'n can Fancy's eye
estore what Time hath laboured to deface.
Yet these proud Pillars claim no passing sigh;
moved the Moslem sits, the light Greek carols by.

XI.

who, of all the plunderers of yon Fane[121]
On high—where Pallas linger'd, loth to flee
he latest relic of her ancient reign—
he last, the worst, dull spoiler, who was he?[dx]

lush, Caledonia! such thy son could be!
ngland! I joy no child he was of thine:
hy free-born men should spare what once was free;
Yet they could violate each saddening shrine,
d hear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine. [5.B.]

XII.

most the modern Pict's ignoble boast,[dy][122]
o rive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared: [6.B.]
old as the crags upon his native coast,
His mind as barren and his heart as hard,
s he whose head conceived, whose hand prepared.
Aught to displace Athenæ's poor remains:
Her Sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard,
Yet felt some portion of their Mother's pains, [7.B.]
d never knew, till then, the weight of Despot's chains.

XIII.

at! shall it e'er be said by British tongue,[dz]
Albion was happy in Athena's tears?
hough in thy name the slaves her bosom wrung,
ell not the deed to blushing Europe's ears;
he Ocean Queen, the free Britannia, bears
he last poor plunder from a bleeding land:
Yes, she, whose generous aid her name endears,
ore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand,
ich envious Eld forbore, and tyrants left to stand.[ea]

XIV.

ere was thine Ægis, Pallas! that appalled[eb]

tern Alaric and Havoc on their way? [8.B.]
Where Peleus' son? whom Hell in vain enthralled.
His shade from Hades upon that dread day
ursting to light in terrible array!
What! could not Pluto spare the Chief once more,
o scare a second robber from his prey?
dly he wandered on the Stygian shore,
now preserved the walls he loved to shield before.

XV.

d is the heart, fair Greece! that looks on Thee,
Nor feels as Lovers o'er the dust they loved;
Dull is the eye that will not weep to see
hy walls defaced, thy mouldering shrines removed
y British hands, which it had best behoved[ec]
o guard those relics ne'er to be restored:—
urst be the hour when from their isle they roved,
And once again thy hapless bosom gored,
d snatched thy shrinking Gods to Northern climes abhorred![123]

XVI.

where is Harold? shall I then forget
o urge the gloomy Wanderer o'er the wave?
ittle recked he of all that Men regret;
No loved-one now in feigned lament could rave;[124]
No friend the parting hand extended gave,
re the cold Stranger passed to other climes:
Hard is his heart whom charms may not enslave;
ut Harold felt not as in other times,
d left without a sigh the land of War and Crimes.

XVII.

that has sailed upon the dark blue sea
Has viewed at times, I ween, a full fair sight,
When the fresh breeze is fair as breeze may be,
he white sail set, the gallant Frigate tight—
Masts, spires, and strand retiring to the right,
he glorious Main expanding o'er the bow,
he Convoy spread like wild swans in their flight,
he dullest sailer wearing bravely now—
gaily curl the waves before each dashing prow.

XVIII.

d oh, the little warlike world within!
he well-reeved guns, the netted canopy, [9.B.]
he hoarse command, the busy humming din,
When, at a word, the tops are manned on high:
Hark, to the Boatswain's call, the cheering cry!
While through the seaman's hand the tackle glides;
Or schoolboy Midshipman that, standing by,
trains his shrill pipe as good or ill betides,
d well the docile crew that skilful Urchin guides.[ed]

XIX.

ite is the glassy deck, without a stain,
Where on the watch the staid Lieutenant walks:
ook on that part which sacred doth remain[ee]
or the lone Chieftain, who majestic stalks,
ilent and feared by all—not oft he talks
With aught beneath him, if he would preserve
hat strict restraint, which broken, ever balks

onquest and Fame: but Britons rarely swerve
m law, however stern, which tends their strength to nerve[ef].

XX.

w! swiftly blow, thou keel-compelling gale!
ill the broad Sun withdraws his lessening ray:
hen must the Pennant-bearer slacken sail,
hat lagging barks may make their lazy way.[125]
Ah! grievance sore, and listless dull delay,
o waste on sluggish hulks the sweetest breeze!
What leagues are lost, before the dawn of day,
hus loitering pensive on the willing seas,
flapping sail hauled down to halt for logs like these!

XXI.

Moon is up; by Heaven, a lovely eve!
ong streams of light o'er dancing waves expand;
Now lads on shore may sigh, and maids believe[eg]:
uch be our fate when we return to land!
Meantime some rude Arion's restless hand[eh]
Wakes the brisk harmony that sailors love;
A circle there of merry listeners stand
Or to some well-known measure featly move,
ughtless, as if on shore they still were free to rove.

XXII.

ough Calpe's straits survey the steepy shore;[ei]
urope and Afric on each other gaze![126]
ands of the dark-eyed Maid and dusky Moor
Alike beheld beneath pale Hecate's blaze:

How softly on the Spanish shore she plays![127]
Disclosing rock, and slope, and forest brown,[128]
Distinct, though darkening with her waning phase;
ut Mauritania's giant-shadows frown,
m mountain-cliff to coast descending sombre down.

XXIII.

night, when Meditation bids us feel
We once have loved, though Love is at an end:
he Heart, lone mourner of its baffled zeal,[ej]
hough friendless now, will dream it had a friend.
Who with the weight of years would wish to bend,
When Youth itself survives young Love and Joy?
Alas! when mingling souls forget to blend,
Death hath but little left him to destroy!
happy years! once more who would not be a boy?[ek]

XXIV.

s bending o'er the vessel's laving side,
o gaze on Dian's wave-reflected sphere,[el]
he Soul forgets her schemes of Hope and Pride,[em]
And flies unconscious o'er each backward year;
None are so desolate but something dear,[en]
Dearer than self, possesses or possessed
A thought, and claims the homage of a tear;
A flashing pang! of which the weary breast
uld still, albeit in vain, the heavy heart divest.

XXV.[eo][129]

it on rocks—to muse o'er flood and fell—

o slowly trace the forest's shady scene,
Where things that own not Man's dominion dwell,
And mortal foot hath ne'er or rarely been;
o climb the trackless mountain all unseen,
With the wild flock that never needs a fold;
Alone o'er steeps and foaming falls to lean;[ep]
his is not Solitude—'tis but to hold
verse with Nature's charms, and view her stores unrolled.

XXVI.

midst the crowd, the hum, the shock of men,
o hear, to see, to feel, and to possess,
And roam along, the World's tired denizen,
With none who bless us, none whom we can bless;
Minions of Splendour shrinking from distress![130]
None that, with kindred consciousness endued,
we were not, would seem to smile the less,
Of all that flattered—followed—sought, and sued:
s is to be alone—This, This is Solitude![eq]

XXVII.[131]

re blest the life of godly Eremite,
uch as on lonely Athos may be seen,
Watching at eve upon the Giant Height,
Which looks o'er waves so blue, skies so serene,
hat he who there at such an hour hath been
Will wistful linger on that hallowed spot;
hen slowly tear him from the 'witching scene,
igh forth one wish that such had been his lot,
n turn to hate a world he had almost forgot.

XXVIII.

s we the long unvarying course, the track
Oft trod, that never leaves a trace behind;
ass we the calm—the gale—the change—the tack,
And each well known caprice of wave and wind;
ass we the joys and sorrows sailors find,
ooped in their wingéd sea-girt citadel;
he foul—the fair—the contrary—the kind—
As breezes rise and fall and billows swell,
on some jocund morn—lo, Land! and All is well!

XXIX.

not in silence pass Calypso's isles, [10.B.]
he sister tenants of the middle deep;
here for the weary still a Haven smiles,
hough the fair Goddess long hath ceased to weep,
And o'er her cliffs a fruitless watch to keep
or him who dared prefer a mortal bride:
Here, too, his boy essayed the dreadful leap
tern Mentor urged from high to yonder tide;
ile thus of both bereft, the Nymph-Queen doubly sighed.[132]

XXX.

reign is past, her gentle glories gone:
ut trust not this; too easy Youth, beware!
A mortal Sovereign holds her dangerous throne,
And thou may'st find a new Calypso there.
weet Florence[133] could another ever share
his wayward, loveless heart, it would be thine:
ut checked by every tie, I may not dare

o cast a worthless offering at thy shrine,
ask so dear a breast to feel one pang for mine.

XXXI.

s Harold deemed, as on that Lady's eye
He looked, and met its beam without a thought,
ave Admiration glancing harmless by:
ove kept aloof, albeit not far remote,
Who knew his Votary often lost and caught,
ut knew him as his Worshipper no more,
And ne'er again the Boy his bosom sought:
ince now he vainly urged him to adore,
l deemed the little God his ancient sway was o'er.

XXXII.

Florence found, in sooth with some amaze,
One who, 'twas said, still sighed to all he saw,
Withstand, unmoved, the lustre of her gaze,
Which others hailed with real or mimic awe,
heir hope, their doom, their punishment, their law;
All that gay Beauty from her bondsmen claims:
And much she marvelled that a youth so raw
Nor felt, nor feigned at least, the oft-told flames,
ich though sometimes they frown, yet rarely anger dames.

XXXIII.

le knew she that seeming marble heart,
Now masked in silence or withheld by Pride,
Was not unskilful in the spoiler's art,
And spread its snares licentious far and wide;[134]
Nor from the base pursuit had turned aside,

As long as aught was worthy to pursue:
ut Harold on such arts no more relied;
And had he doted on those eyes so blue,
never would he join the lover's whining crew.

XXXIV.

much he kens, I ween, of Woman's breast,
Who thinks that wanton thing is won by sighs;
What careth she for hearts when once possessed?
Do proper homage to thine Idol's eyes;
ut not too humbly, or she will despise
hee and thy suit, though told in moving tropes:
Disguise ev'n tenderness, if thou art wise;
risk Confidence still best with woman copes:[er]
ue her and soothe in turn—soon Passion crowns thy hopes.

XXXV.

an old lesson—Time approves it true,
And those who know it best, deplore it most;
When all is won that all desire to woo,
he paltry prize is hardly worth the cost:
Youth wasted—Minds degraded—Honour lost—[es]
hese are thy fruits, successful Passion! these![135]
, kindly cruel, early Hope is crost,
till to the last it rankles, a disease,
to be cured when Love itself forgets to please.

XXXVI.

ay! nor let me loiter in my song,
or we have many a mountain-path to tread,

And many a varied shore to sail along,
y pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led—
limes, fair withal as ever mortal head[et]
magined in its little schemes of thought;[eu]
Or e'er in new Utopias were ared,[136]
o teach Man what he might be, or he ought—
hat corrupted thing could ever such be taught.

XXXVII.

r Nature is the kindest mother still!
hough always changing, in her aspect mild;
rom her bare bosom let me take my fill,
Her never-weaned, though not her favoured child.[ev]
Oh! she is fairest in her features wild,
Where nothing polished dares pollute her path:
o me by day or night she ever smiled,
hough I have marked her when none other hath,
d sought her more and more, and loved her best in wrath.[137]

XXXVIII.

d of Albania! where Iskander rose,[138]
heme of the young, and beacon of the wise,[139]
And he his namesake, whose oft-baffled foes
hrunk from his deeds of chivalrous emprize:
and of Albania! let me bend mine eyes [11.B.]
On thee, thou rugged Nurse of savage men!
he Cross descends, thy Minarets arise,
And the pale Crescent sparkles in the glen,
ough many a cypress-grove within each city's ken.

XXXIX.

lde Harold sailed, and passed the barren spot,[140]
Where sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave; [12.B.]
And onward viewed the mount, not yet forgot,
he Lover's refuge, and the Lesbian's grave.
Dark Sappho! could not Verse immortal save
hat breast imbued with such immortal fire?
ould she not live who life eternal gave?
life eternal may await the lyre,
t only Heaven to which Earth's children may aspire.[141]

XL.

as on a Grecian autumn's gentle eve
hilde Harold hailed Leucadia's cape afar;
A spot he longed to see, nor cared to leave:
Oft did he mark the scenes of vanished war,
Actium—Lepanto—fatal Trafalgar; [13.B.]
Mark them unmoved, for he would not delight
Born beneath some remote inglorious star)[142]
n themes of bloody fray, or gallant fight,
loathed the bravo's trade, and laughed at martial wight.[ew]

XLI.

when he saw the Evening star above
eucadia's far-projecting rock of woe,
And hailed the last resort of fruitless love, [14.B.]
He felt, or deemed he felt, no common glow:
And as the stately vessel glided slow[143]
eneath the shadow of that ancient mount,

He watched the billows' melancholy flow,
And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont,[ex]
re placid seemed his eye, and smooth his pallid front.

XLII.

rn dawns; and with it stern Albania's hills,
Dark Suli's rocks, and Pindus' inland peak,[144]
obed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills,
Arrayed in many a dun and purple streak,
Arise; and, as the clouds along them break,
Disclose the dwelling of the mountaineer:
Here roams the wolf—the eagle whets his beak—
irds—beasts of prey—and wilder men appear,
d gathering storms around convulse the closing year.

XLIII.

w Harold felt himself at length alone,
And bade to Christian tongues a long adieu;
Now he adventured on a shore unknown,[145]
Which all admire, but many dread to view:
His breast was armed 'gainst fate, his wants were few
eril he sought not, but ne'er shrank to meet:
he scene was savage, but the scene was new;
his made the ceaseless toil of travel sweet,
t back keen Winter's blast, and welcomed Summer's heat.

XLIV.

e the red Cross, for still the Cross is here,
hough sadly scoffed at by the circumcised,
orgets that Pride to pampered priesthood dear;

hurchman and Votary alike despised.
oul Superstition! howsoe'er disguised,
dol—Saint—Virgin—Prophet—Crescent—Cross—
or whatsoever symbol thou art prized,
hou sacerdotal gain, but general loss!
o from true Worship's gold can separate thy dross?

XLV.

bracia's gulf behold, where once was lost
A world for Woman, lovely, harmless thing![ey][146]
n yonder rippling bay, their naval host
Did many a Roman chief and Asian King [15.B.]
o doubtful conflict, certain slaughter bring:
ook where the second Cæsar's trophies rose![147] [16.B.]
Now, like the hands that reared them, withering:
mperial Anarchs, doubling human woes![ez]
d ! was thy globe ordained for such to win and lose?

XLVI.

m the dark barriers of that rugged clime,
v'n to the centre of Illyria's vales,
hilde Harold passed o'er many a mount sublime,
hrough lands scarce noticed in historic tales:
Yet in famed Attica such lovely dales
Are rarely seen; nor can fair Tempe boast
A charm they know not; loved Parnassus fails,
hough classic ground and consecrated most,
match some spots that lurk within this lowering coast.

XLVII.

passed bleak Pindus, Acherusia's lake, [17.B.]
And left the primal city of the land,
And onwards did his further journey take[148]
o greet Albania's Chief, whose dread command [18.B.]
s lawless law; for with a bloody hand
He sways a nation,—turbulent and bold:
Yet here and there some daring mountain-band
Disdain his power, and from their rocky hold
l their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold. [19.B.]

XLVIII.

nastic Zitza![149] from thy shady brow, [20.B.]
hou small, but favoured spot of holy ground!
Where'er we gaze—around—above—below,—
What rainbow tints, what magic charms are found!
ock, river, forest, mountain, all abound,
And bluest skies that harmonise the whole:
eneath, the distant Torrent's rushing sound
ells where the volumed Cataract doth roll
ween those hanging rocks, that shock yet please the soul.

XLIX.

idst the grove that crowns yon tufted hill,
Which, were it not for many a mountain nigh
ising in lofty ranks, and loftier still,
Might well itself be deemed of dignity,
he Convent's white walls glisten fair on high:
Here dwells the caloyer, nor rude is he, [21.B.]
Nor niggard of his cheer;[150] the passer by
s welcome still; nor heedless will he flee

m hence, if he delight kind Nature's sheen to see.

L.

e in the sultriest season let him rest,
resh is the green beneath those aged trees;
Here winds of gentlest wing will fan his breast,[fa]
rom Heaven itself he may inhale the breeze:
he plain is far beneath—oh! let him seize
ure pleasure while he can; the scorching ray
Here pierceth not, impregnate with disease:
hen let his length the loitering pilgrim lay,
d gaze, untired, the Morn—the Noon—the Eve away.

LI.

ky and huge, enlarging on the sight,
Nature's volcanic Amphitheatre, [22.B.]
himæra's Alps extend from left to right:
eneath, a living valley seems to stir;
locks play, trees wave, streams flow, the mountain-fir
Nodding above; behold black Acheron! [23.B.]
Once consecrated to the sepulchre.
luto! if this be Hell I look upon,
se shamed Elysium's gates, my shade shall seek for none[fb].

LII.

city's towers pollute the lovely view;
Unseen is Yanina, though not remote,
Veiled by the screen of hills: here men are few,
canty the hamlet, rare the lonely cot:
ut, peering down each precipice, the goat[fc]

rowseth; and, pensive o'er his scattered flock,
he little shepherd in his white capote [24.B.]
Doth lean his boyish form along the rock,
n his cave awaits the Tempest's short-lived shock.[fd]

LIII.

where, Dodona![151] is thine agéd Grove,
rophetic Fount, and Oracle divine?
What valley echoed the response of Jove?
What trace remaineth of the Thunderer's shrine?
All, all forgotten—and shall Man repine
hat his frail bonds to fleeting life are broke?[152]
ease, Fool! the fate of Gods may well be thine:
Wouldst thou survive the marble or the oak?
en nations, tongues, and worlds must sink beneath the stroke!

LIV.

rus' bounds recede, and mountains fail;[153]
ired of up-gazing still, the wearied eye
eposes gladly on as smooth a vale
As ever Spring yclad in grassy dye:[154]
v'n on a plain no humble beauties lie,
Where some bold river breaks the long expanse,
And woods along the banks are waving high,
Whose shadows in the glassy waters dance,
with the moonbeam sleep in Midnight's solemn trance.

LV.

Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit, [25.B.]
And Laos wide and fierce came roaring by; [26.B.]

he shades of wonted night were gathering yet,
When, down the steep banks winding warily,
hilde Harold saw, like meteors in the sky,[155]
he glittering minarets of Tepalen,
Whose walls o'erlook the stream; and drawing nigh,
He heard the busy hum of warrior-men
elling the breeze that sighed along the lengthening glen.

LVI.

passed the sacred Haram's silent tower,
And underneath the wide o'erarching gate
urveyed the dwelling of this Chief of power,
Where all around proclaimed his high estate.
Amidst no common pomp the Despot sate,
While busy preparation shook the court,
laves, eunuchs, soldiers, guests, and santons[156] wait;[fe]
Within, a palace, and without, a fort:
e men of every clime appear to make resort.

LVII.

hly caparisoned, a ready row
Of arméd horse, and many a warlike store,
ircled the wide-extending court below;
Above, strange groups adorned the corridore;
And oft-times through the area's echoing door
ome high-capped Tartar spurred his steed away:
he Turk—the Greek—the Albanian—and the Moor,
Here mingled in their many-hued array,
ile the deep war-drum's sound announced the close of day.[ff]

LVIII.

wild Albanian kirtled to his knee,
With shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,
And gold-embroidered garments, fair to see;
he crimson-scarféd men of Macedon;
he Delhi with his cap of terror on,
And crooked glaive—the lively, supple Greek
And swarthy Nubia's mutilated son;
he bearded Turk that rarely deigns to speak,
ster of all around, too potent to be meek,

LIX.

mixed conspicuous: some recline in groups,[157]
canning the motley scene that varies round;
here some grave Moslem to devotion stoops,
And some that smoke, and some that play, are found;
Here the Albanian proudly treads the ground;
Half-whispering there the Greek is heard to prate;
Hark! from the Mosque the nightly solemn sound,
he Muezzin's call doth shake the minaret,
ere is no god but God!—to prayer—lo! God is great!"

LX.

at this season Ramazani's fast[158]
hrough the long day its penance did maintain:
ut when the lingering twilight hour was past,
evel and feast assumed the rule again:
Now all was bustle, and the menial train
repared and spread the plenteous board within;
he vacant Gallery now seemed made in vain,
ut from the chambers came the mingling din,
page and slave anon were passing out and in.[159]

LXI.

e woman's voice is never heard: apart,
And scarce permitted, guarded, veiled, to move,[fg]
he yields to one her person and her heart,
amed to her cage, nor feels a wish to rove:
or, not unhappy in her Master's love,[fh]
And joyful in a mother's gentlest cares,
lest cares! all other feelings far above!
Herself more sweetly rears the babe she bears
o never quits the breast—no meaner passion shares.

LXII.

marble-paved pavilion, where a spring
Of living water from the centre rose,
Whose bubbling did a genial freshness fling,
And soft voluptuous couches breathed repose,
A li reclined, a man of war and woes:[160]
Yet in his lineaments ye cannot trace,
While Gentleness her milder radiance throws[161]
Along that agéd venerable face,
deeds that lurk beneath, and stain him with disgrace.

LXIII.

not that yon hoary lengthening beard
l suits the passions which belong to Youth;[fi]
ove conquers Age—so Hafiz hath averr'd,
o sings the Teian, and he sings in sooth[162]—
ut crimes that scorn the tender voice of ruth,[fj][163]
eseeming all men ill, but most the man
n years, have marked him with a tiger's tooth;

lood follows blood, and, through their mortal span,
loodier acts conclude those who with blood began.[fk][164]

LXIV.

d many things most new to ear and eye[fl]
he Pilgrim rested here his weary feet,
And gazed around on Moslem luxury,
ill quickly, wearied with that spacious seat
Of Wealth and Wantonness, the choice retreat
Of sated Grandeur from the city's noise:
And were it humbler it in sooth were sweet;
ut Peace abhorreth artificial joys,
d Pleasure, leagued with Pomp, the zest of both destroys.

LXV.

ce are Albania's children, yet they lack
Not virtues, were those virtues more mature.
Where is the foe that ever saw their back?
Who can so well the toil of War endure?
heir native fastnesses not more secure
han they in doubtful time of troublous need:
heir wrath how deadly! but their friendship sure,
When Gratitude or Valour bids them bleed,
haken rushing on where'er their Chief may lead.

LXVI.

lde Harold saw them in their Chieftain's tower
hronging to War in splendour and success;
And after viewed them, when, within their power,
Himself awhile the victim of distress;

hat saddening hour when bad men hotlier press:
ut these did shelter him beneath their roof,
When less barbarians would have cheered him less,
And fellow-countrymen have stood aloof— [27.B.]
ught that tries the heart, how few withstand the proof!

LXVII.

hanced that adverse winds once drove his bark
ull on the coast of Suli's shaggy shore,[165]
When all around was desolate and dark;
o land was perilous, to sojourn more;
Yet for awhile the mariners forbore,
Dubious to trust where Treachery might lurk:
At length they ventured forth, though doubting sore
hat those who loathe alike the Frank and Turk
ht once again renew their ancient butcher-work.

LXVIII.

n fear! the Suliotes stretched the welcome hand,
ed them o'er rocks and past the dangerous swamp,
Kinder than polished slaves though not so bland,
And piled the hearth, and wrung their garments damp,
And filled the bowl, and trimmed the cheerful lamp,
And spread their fare; though homely, all they had:
uch conduct bears Philanthropy's rare stamp:
o rest the weary and to soothe the sad,
h lesson happier men, and shames at least the bad.

LXIX.

ame to pass, that when he did address

Himself to quit at length this mountain-land,
ombined marauders half-way barred egress,
And wasted far and near with glaive and brand;
And therefore did he take a trusty band
o traverse Acarnania's forest wide,
n war well-seasoned, and with labours tanned,
ill he did greet white Achelous' tide,
d from his further bank Ætolia's wolds espied.[166]

LXX.

ere lone Utraikey forms its circling cove,[167]
And weary waves retire to gleam at rest,
How brown the foliage of the green hill's grove,
Nodding at midnight o'er the calm bay's breast,
As winds come lightly whispering from the West,
Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene:—
Here Harold was received a welcome guest;
Nor did he pass unmoved the gentle scene,
many a joy could he from Night's soft presence glean.

LXXI.

the smooth shore the night-fires brightly blazed,
he feast was done, the red wine circling fast, [28.B.]
And he that unawares had there ygazed
With gaping wonderment had stared aghast;
or ere night's midmost, stillest hour was past,
he native revels of the troop began;
ach Palikar his sabre from him cast, [29.B.]
And bounding hand in hand, man linked to man,
ing their uncouth dirge, long daunced the kirtled clan.[168]

LXXII.

lde Harold at a little distance stood
And viewed, but not displeased, the revelrie,
Nor hated harmless mirth, however rude:
n sooth, it was no vulgar sight to see
heir barbarous, yet their not indecent, glee;
And, as the flames along their faces gleamed,
heir gestures nimble, dark eyes flashing free,
he long wild locks that to their girdles streamed,
ile thus in concert they this lay half sang, half screamed:—[169] [30.B.]

1.

[170]
mbourgi ! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar[fm] [31.B.]
es hope to the valiant, and promise of war;
the Sons of the mountains arise at the note,
mariot, Illyrian, and dark Suliote!

2.

who is more brave than a dark Suliote,
is snowy camese[171] and his shaggy capote?
he wolf and the vulture he leaves his wild flock,
d descends to the plain like the stream from the rock.

3.

ll the sons of Chimari, who never forgive[fn]
fault of a friend, bid an enemy live?
those guns so unerring such vengeance forego?
at mark is so fair as the breast of a foe?[172]

4.

cedonia sends forth her invincible race;
a time they abandon the cave and the chase:
those scarfs of blood-red shall be redder, before
sabre is sheathed and the battle is o'er.

5.

n the Pirates of Parga that dwell by the waves,
d teach the pale Franks what it is to be slaves,
ll leave on the beach the long galley and oar,
d track to his covert the captive on shore.

6.

k not the pleasures that riches supply,
sabre shall win what the feeble must buy;
ll win the young bride with her long flowing hair,[fo]
d many a maid from her mother shall tear.

7.

ve the fair face of the maid in her youth,[fp]
caresses shall lull me, her music shall soothe;[fq]
her bring from the chamber her many-toned lyre,
d sing us a song on the fall of her Sire.

8.

member the moment when Previsa fell,[173] [32.B.]
shrieks of the conquered, the conquerors' yell;
roofs that we fired, and the plunder we shared,
wealthy we slaughtered, the lovely we spared.

9.

k not of mercy, I talk not of fear;
neither must know who would serve the Vizier:
ce the days of our Prophet the Crescent ne'er saw
hief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.

10.

k Muchtar his son to the Danube is sped,[174]
the yellow-haired[175] Giaours[176] view his horse-tail[177] with dread;
en his Delhis[178] come dashing in blood o'er the banks,
w few shall escape from the Muscovite ranks!

11.

ctar![179] unsheathe then our chief's Scimitār;
mbourgi! thy 'larum gives promise of War.[fr]
Mountains, that see us descend to the shore,
ll view us as Victors, or view us no more!

LXXIII.

Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! [33.B.]
mmortal, though no more; though fallen, great!
Who now shall lead thy scattered children forth,
And long accustomed bondage uncreate?
Not such thy sons who whilome did await,
he helpless warriors of a willing doom,
n bleak Thermopylæ's sepulchral strait—
Oh! who that gallant spirit shall resume,
p from Eurotas' banks, and call thee from the tomb?[180]

LXXIV.

it of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow [34.B.]
hou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train,
ouldst thou forebode the dismal hour which now
Dims the green beauties of thine Attic plain?
Not thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,
ut every carle can lord it o'er thy land;
Nor rise thy sons, but idly rail in vain,
rembling beneath the scourge of Turkish hand,
m birth till death enslaved; in word, in deed, unmanned.[fs]

LXXV.

ll save form alone, how changed! and who
hat marks the fire still sparkling in each eye,
Who but would deem their bosoms burned anew
With thy unquenchéd beam, lost Liberty![ft]
And many dream withal the hour is nigh
hat gives them back their fathers' heritage:
or foreign arms and aid they fondly sigh,
Nor solely dare encounter hostile rage,
ear their name defiled from Slavery's mournful page.

LXXVI.

editary Bondsmen! know ye not
Who would be free themselves must strike the blow?
y their right arms the conquest must be wrought?[181]
Will Gaul or Muscovite redress ye? No!
rue—they may lay your proud despoilers low,
ut not for you will Freedom's Altars flame.
hades of the Helots! triumph o'er your foe!
Greece! change thy lords, thy state is still the same;
glorious day is o'er, but not thine years of shame.

LXXVII.

city won for Allah from the Giaour
he Giaour from Othman's race again may wrest;
And the Serai's impenetrable tower
eceive the fiery Frank, her former guest; [35.B.]
Or Wahab's[182] rebel brood who dared divest
he Prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil, [36.B.]
May wind their path of blood along the West;
ut ne'er will Freedom seek this fated soil,
slave succeed to slave through years of endless toil.

LXXVIII.

mark their mirth—ere Lenten days begin,
hat penance which their holy rites prepare
o shrive from Man his weight of mortal sin,
y daily abstinence and nightly prayer;
ut ere his sackcloth garb Repentance wear,
ome days of joyaunce are decreed to all,
o take of pleasaunce each his secret share,
n motley robe to dance at masking ball,
d join the mimic train of merry Carnival.

LXXIX.[183]

d whose more rife with merriment than thine,
Oh Stamboul! once the Empress of their reign?
hough turbans now pollute Sophia's shrine,
And Greece her very altars eyes in vain:
Alas! her woes will still pervade my strain!)
Gay were her minstrels once, for free her throng,
All felt the common joy they now must feign,

Nor oft I've seen such sight, nor heard such song,
wooed the eye, and thrilled the Bosphorus along.

LXXX.

d was the lightsome tumult on the shore,[184]
Oft Music changed, but never ceased her tone,
And timely echoed back the measured oar,
And rippling waters made a pleasant moan:
he Queen of tides on high consenting shone,
And when a transient breeze swept o'er the wave,
Twas, as if darting from her heavenly throne,
A brighter glance her form reflected gave,
sparkling billows seemed to light the banks they lave.

LXXXI.

nced many a light Caique along the foam,
Danced on the shore the daughters of the land,
No thought had man or maid of rest or home,
While many a languid eye and thrilling hand
xchanged the look few bosoms may withstand,
Or gently prest, returned the pressure still:
Oh Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy band,
et sage or cynic prattle as he will,
se hours, and only these, redeem Life's years of ill![185]

LXXXII.

midst the throng in merry masquerade,
urk there no hearts that throb with secret pain,
ven through the closest searment[186] half betrayed?
o such the gentle murmurs of the main

eem to re-echo all they mourn in vain;
o such the gladness of the gamesome crowd
s source of wayward thought and stern disdain:
How do they loathe the laughter idly loud,
d long to change the robe of revel for the shroud!

LXXXIII.

s must he feel, the true-born son of Greece,
Greece one true-born patriot still can boast:
Not such as prate of War, but skulk in Peace,
he bondsman's peace, who sighs for all he lost,
Yet with smooth smile his Tyrant can accost,
And wield the slavish sickle, not the sword:
Ah! Greece! they love thee least who owe thee most—
heir birth, their blood, and that sublime record[187]
hero Sires, who shame thy now degenerate horde!

LXXXIV.

en riseth Lacedemon's Hardihood,
When Thebes Epaminondas rears again,
When Athens' children are with hearts endued,[fu]
When Grecian mothers shall give birth to men,
hen may'st thou be restored; but not till then.
A thousand years scarce serve to form a state;
An hour may lay it in the dust: and when
an Man its shattered splendour renovate,
all its virtues back, and vanquish Time and Fate?

LXXXV.

d yet how lovely in thine age of woe,

and of lost Gods and godlike men, art thou!
hy vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow, [37.B.]
roclaim thee Nature's varied favourite now:
hy fanes, thy temples to thy surface bow,
ommingling slowly with heroic earth,
roke by the share of every rustic plough:
o perish monuments of mortal birth,
perish all in turn, save well-recorded Worth:[188]

LXXXVI.

e where some solitary column[189] mourns
Above its prostrate brethren of the cave; [38.B.]
ave where Tritonia's[190] airy shrine adorns
olonna's cliff,[191] and gleams along the wave;
ave o'er some warrior's half-forgotten grave,
Where the gray stones and unmolested grass
Ages, but not Oblivion, feebly brave;
While strangers, only, not regardless pass,
gering like me, perchance, to gaze, and sigh "Alas!"

LXXXVII.

are thy skies as blue, thy crags as wild;
weet are thy groves, and verdant are thy fields,
hine olive ripe as when Minerva[192] smiled,
And still his honied wealth Hymettus[193] yields;
here the blithe Bee his fragrant fortress builds,
he free-born wanderer of thy mountain-air;
Apollo still thy long, long summer gilds,
till in his beam Mendeli's marbles glare:[fv]
Glory, Freedom fail, but Nature still is fair.

LXXXVIII.[194]

ere'er we tread 'tis haunted, holy ground;
No earth of thine is lost in vulgar mould,
ut one vast realm of Wonder spreads around,
And all the Muse's tales seem truly told,
ill the sense aches with gazing to behold
he scenes our earliest dreams have dwelt upon;
ach hill and dale, each deepening glen and wold
Defies the power which crushed thy temples gone:
shakes Athenæ's tower, but spares gray Marathon.[195]

LXXXIX.

Sun, the soil—but not the slave, the same;—
Unchanged in all except its foreign Lord,
reserves alike its bounds and boundless fame[fw]
he Battle-field, where Persia's victim horde
irst bowed beneath the brunt of Hellas' sword,
As on the morn to distant Glory dear,
When Marathon became a magic word; [39.B.]
Which uttered, to the hearer's eye appear[fx]
camp, the host, the fight, the Conqueror's career,[fy]

XC.

flying Mede, his shaftless broken bow—[fz][196]
he fiery Greek, his red pursuing spear;
Mountains above—Earth's, Ocean's plain below—
Death in the front, Destruction in the rear!
uch was the scene—what now remaineth here?
What sacred Trophy marks the hallowed ground,
ecording Freedom's smile and Asia's tear?[ga]

he rifled urn, the violated mound,[197]
dust thy courser's hoof, rude stranger! spurns around.

XCI.

to the remnants of thy Splendour past[gb]
hall pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied, throng;
ong shall the voyager, with th' Ionian blast,[198]
Hail the bright clime of Battle and of Song:
ong shall thine annals and immortal tongue
ill with thy fame the youth of many a shore;
oast of the agéd! lesson of the young!
Which Sages venerate and Bards adore,
Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore.

XCII.

parted bosom clings to wonted home,
aught that's kindred cheer the welcome hearth;
He that is lonely—hither let him roam,
And gaze complacent on congenial earth.
Greece is no lightsome land of social mirth:
ut he whom Sadness sootheth may abide,
And scarce regret the region of his birth,
When wandering slow by Delphi's sacred side,
gazing o'er the plains where Greek and Persian died.[199]

XCIII.

such approach this consecrated Land,
And pass in peace along the magic waste;
ut spare its relics—let no busy hand
Deface the scenes, already how defaced!

Not for such purpose were these altars placed:
evere the remnants Nations once revered:
o may our Country's name be undisgraced,
o may'st thou prosper where thy youth was reared,
every honest joy of Love and Life endeared!

XCIV.

thee, who thus in too protracted song
Hast soothed thine Idlesse with inglorious lays,
oon shall thy voice be lost amid the throng
Of louder Minstrels in these later days:
o such resign the strife for fading Bays—
l may such contest now the spirit move
Which heeds nor keen Reproach nor partial Praise,[gc]
ince cold each kinder heart that might approve—
d none are left to please when none are left to love.

XCV.

u too art gone, thou loved and lovely one!
Whom Youth and Youth's affections bound to me;
Who did for me what none beside have done,
Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee.
What is my Being! thou hast ceased to be!
Nor staid to welcome here thy wanderer home,
Who mourns o'er hours which we no more shall see—
Would they had never been, or were to come!
uld he had ne'er returned to find fresh cause to roam![gd][200]

XCVI.

ever loving, lovely, and beloved!
How selfish Sorrow ponders on the past,
And clings to thoughts now better far removed!
ut Time shall tear thy shadow from me last.[ge]
All thou couldst have of mine, stern Death! thou hast;
he Parent, Friend, and now the more than Friend:
Ne'er yet for one thine arrows flew so fast,[201]
And grief with grief continuing still to blend,

h snatched the little joy that Life had yet to lend.

XCVII.

n must I plunge again into the crowd,
And follow all that Peace disdains to seek?
Where Revel calls, and Laughter, vainly loud,
alse to the heart, distorts the hollow cheek,
o leave the flagging spirit doubly weak;
till o'er the features, which perforce they cheer,
o feign the pleasure or conceal the pique:
miles form the channel of a future tear,
aise the writhing lip with ill-dissembled sneer.

XCVIII.

at is the worst of woes that wait on Age?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow?
o view each loved one blotted from Life's page,
And be alone on earth, as I am now.
efore the Chastener humbly let me bow,
O'er Hearts divided and o'er Hopes destroyed:
oll on, vain days! full reckless may ye flow,
ince Time hath reft whate'er my soul enjoyed,[gf]
d with the ills of Eld mine earlier years alloyed.

[N ote .—The MS. closes with stanza xcii. Stanzas xciii.-xcviii. were
added after Childe Harold was in the press. Byron sent them to Dallas,
October 11, 1811, and, apparently, on the same day composed the Epistle to
a Friend (F. Hodgson) in answer to some lines exhorting the Author to be
cheerful, and to "Banish Care," and the first poem To Thyrza ("Without a
stone to mark the Spot"). "I have sent," he writes, "two or three additional
stanzas for both 'Fyttes.' I have been again shocked with a death, and have

lost one very dear to me in happier times; but 'I have almost forgot the taste
of grief,' and 'supped full of horrors' till I have become callous, nor have I a
tear left for an event which, five years ago, would have bowed down my
head to the earth. It seems as though I were to experience in my youth the
greatest misery of age. My friends fall around me, and I shall be left a
lonely tree before I am withered." In one respect he would no longer
disclaim identity with Childe Harold. "Death had deprived him of his
nearest connections." He had seen his friends "around him fall like leaves in
wintry weather." He felt "like one deserted;" and in the "dusky shadow" of
that early desolation he was destined to walk till his life's end. It is not
without cause when "a man of great spirit grows melancholy."

In connection with this subject, it may be noted that lines 6 and 7 of
stanza xcv. do not bear out Byron's contention to Dallas (Letters, October
14 and 31, 1811), that in these three in memoriam stanzas (ix., xcv., xcvi.)
he is bewailing an event which took place after he returned to Newstead.
The "more than friend" had "ceased to be" before the "wanderer" returned.
It is evident that Byron did not take Dallas into his confidence.]

FOOTNOTES:

[113] {99} [Stanzas i.-xv. form a kind of dramatic prologue to the Second Canto of the Pilgrimage.
The general meaning is clear enough, but the unities are disregarded. The scene shifts more than
once, and there is a moral within a moral. The poet begins by invoking Athena (Byron wrote Athenæ)
to look down on the ruins of "her holy and beautiful house," and bewails her unreturning heroes of
the sword and pen. He then summons an Oriental, a "Son of the Morning," Moslem or "light Greek,"
possibly a Canis venaticus, the discoverer or vendor of a sepulchral urn, and, with an adjuration to
spare the sacred relic, points to the Acropolis, the cemetery of dead divinities, and then once more to
the urn at his feet. "'Vanity of vanities—all is vanity!' Gods and men may come and go, but Death
'goes on for ever.'" The scene changes, and he feigns to be present at the rifling of a barrow, the
"tomb of the Athenian heroes" on the plain of Marathon, or one of the lonely tumuli on Sigeum and
Rhoeteum, "the great and goodly tombs" of Achilles and Patroclus ("they twain in one golden urn");
of Antilochus, and of Telamonian Ajax. Marathon he had already visited, and marked "the
perpendicular cut" which at Fauvel's instigation had been recently driven into the large barrow; and
he had, perhaps, read of the real or pretended excavation by Signor Ghormezano (1787) of a tumulus

at the Sigean promontory. The "mind's eye," which had conjured up "the shattered heaps," images a
skull of one who "kept the world in awe," and, after moralizing in Hamlet's vein on the humorous
catastrophe of decay, the poet concludes with the Preacher "that there is no work, nor device, nor
knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave." After this profession of unfaith, before he returns to Harold
and his pilgrimage, he takes up his parable and curses Elgin and all his works. The passage as a
whole suggests the essential difference between painting and poetry. As a composition, it recalls the
frontispiece of a seventeenth-century classic. The pictured scene, with its superfluity of accessories,
is grotesque enough; but the poetic scenery, inconsequent and yet vivid as a dream, awakens, and
fulfills the imagination. (Travels in Albania, by Lord Broughton, 1858, i. 380; ii. 128, 129, 138; The
Odyssey, xxiv. 74, sq. See, too, Byron's letters to his mother, April 17, and to H. Drury, May 3, 1810:
Letters, 1898, i. 262.)]

[do] {100} Ancient of days! august Athenæ! where.—[MS. D.]

[dp] Gone—mingled with the waste——.—[MS. erased.]

[114] {101} ["Stole," apart from its restricted use as an ecclesiastical vestment, is used by Spenser
and other poets as an equivalent for any long and loosely flowing robe, but is, perhaps inaccurately,
applied to the short cloak (tribon), the "habit" of Socrates when he lived, and, after his death, the
distinctive dress of the cynics.]

[dq] ——gray flits the Ghost of Power.—[MS. D. erased.]

[dr] ——whose altars cease to burn.—[D.]

[ds] ——whose Faith is built on reeds.—[MS. D. erased.]

[115] {102} [Compare Shakespeare, Measure for Measure, act iii, sc. 1, lines 5-7—

"Reason thus with life:
do lose thee, I do lose a thing
at none but fools would keep."]

[dt] Still wilt thou harp——.—[MS. D. erased.]

[du] Though 'twas a God, as graver records tell.—[MS. erased.]

[116] [The demigods Erechtheus and Theseus "appeared" at Marathon, and fought side by side with
Miltiades (Grote's History of Greece, iv. 284).]

[117] {103} [Compare Shakespeare, Hamlet, act v. sc. 1, passim.]

[118] [Socrates affirmed that true self-knowledge was to know that we know nothing, and in his own
case he denied any other knowledge; but "this confession of ignorance was certainly not meant to be
a sceptical denial of all knowledge." "The idea of knowledge was to him a boundless field, in the face
of which he could not but be ignorant" (Socrates and the Socratic Schools, by Dr. E. Zeller, London,
1868, p. 102).]

[119] [Stanzas viii. and ix. are not in the MS.

The expunged lines (see var. i.) carried the Lucretian tenets of the preceding stanza to their logical
conclusion. The end is silence, not a reunion with superior souls. But Dallas objected; and it may
well be that, in the presence of death, Byron could not "guard his unbelief," or refrain from a
renewed questioning of the "Grand Perhaps." Stanza for stanza, the new version is an improvement
on the original. (See Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron, 1824, p. 169. See, too, letters to
Hodgson, September 3 and September 13, 1811: Letters, 1898, ii. 18, 34.)]

[dv]

wn not upon me, churlish Priest! that I
Look not for Life, where life may never be:
am no sneerer at thy phantasy;
Thou pitiest me, alas! I envy thee,
Thou bold Discoverer in an unknown sea
Of happy Isles and happier Tenants there;
ask thee not to prove a Sadducee;[*]
till dream of Paradise, thou know'st not where,[**]
ich if it be thy sins will never let thee share.[***]
—[MS. D. erased.]

[*]The Sadducees did not believe in the Resurrection.—[MS. D.]

]
look upon a scene that once was fair.—[Erased.]
n's holy hill which thou wouldst fancy fair.—[Erased.]

*]
those, which thou delight'st to rear in upper air.—[Erased.]
lovs't too well to bid thine erring brother share.—[D. erased.]

[120] {104} [Byron forwarded this stanza in a letter to Dallas, dated October 14, 1811, and was
careful to add, "I think it proper to state to you, that this stanza alludes to an event which has taken
place since my arrival here, and not to the death of any male friend" (Letters. 1898, ii. 57). The
reference is not to Edleston, as Dallas might have guessed, and as Wright (see Poetical Works, 1891,
p. 17) believed. Again, in a letter to Dallas, dated October 31, 1811 (ibid., ii. 65), he sends "a few
stanzas," presumably the lines "To Thyrza," which are dated October 31, 1811, and says that "they
refer to the death of one to whose name you are a stranger, and, consequently, cannot be interested
(sic) ... They relate to the same person whom I have mentioned in Canto 2nd, and at the conclusion of
the poem." It follows from this second statement that we have Byron's authority for connecting
stanza ix. with stanzas xcv., xcvi., and, inferentially, his authority for connecting stanzas ix., xcv.,
xcvi. with the group of "Thyrza" poems. And there our knowledge ends. We must leave the mystery
where Byron willed that it should be left. "All that we know is, nothing can be known."]

[dw] {105}

ate'er beside
owe'er may be } Futurity's behest.[*]
seeing thee no more to sink in sullen rest.—[MS. D.]

[*][See letter to Dallas, October 14, 1811.]

[121] {106} [For note on the "Elgin Marbles," see Introduction to the Curse of Minerva: Poetical
Works, 1898, i. 453-456.]

[dx]

The last, the worst dull Robber, who was he?
Blush Scotland such a slave thy son could be—
England! I joy no child he was of thine:
Thy freeborn men revere what once was free,
Nor tear the Sculpture from its saddening shrine,
r bear the spoil away athwart the weeping Brine.—[MS. D. erased.]

[dy]

s be the wittol Picts ignoble boast.—[MS. D.]
rive what Goth and Turk, and Time hath spared:
d and accursed as his native coast.—[MS. D. erased]

[122] ["On the plaster wall of the Chapel of Pandrosos adjoining the Erechtheum, these words have
been very deeply cut—

od non fecerunt Goti,
c fecerunt Scoti'"

(Travels in Albania, 1858, i. 299). M. Darmesteter quotes the original: "mot sur les Barberini"
("Quod non fecere Barbari, Fecere Barberini"). It may be added that Scotchmen are named among
the volunteers who joined the Hanoverian mercenaries in the Venetian invasion of Greece in 1686.
(See The Curse of Minerva: Poetical Works, 1898, i. 463, note 1; Finlay's Hist. of Greece, v. 189.)]

[dz] {107}

at! shall it e'er be said by British tongue,
Albion was happy while Athenæ mourned?
Though in thy name the slave her bosom wrung,
Albion! I would not see thee thus adorned
With gains thy generous spirit should have scorned,
From Man distinguished by some monstrous sign,
Like Attila the Hun was surely horned,[A]
Who wrought the ravage amid works divine:

that Minerva's voice lent its keen aid to mine.—[MS. D. erased.]

at! shall it e'er be said by British tongue,
Albion was happy in Athenæ's tears?
Though in thy name the slave her bosom wrung,
Let it not vibrate in pale Europe's ears,[B]
The Saviour Queen, the free Britannia, wears
The last poor blunder of a bleeding land:
That she, whose generous aid her name endears,
Tore down those remnants with a Harpy's hand,
ich Envious Eld forbore and Tyrants left to stand.—[MS. D.][C]

[A] Attila was horned, if we may trust contemporary legends, and the etchings of his visage in
Lavater.—[M.S.]

[B] Lines 5-9 in the Dallas transcript are in Byron's handwriting.

[C] Which centuries forgot——.—[D. erased.]

[ea] {108} After stanza xiii. the MS. inserts the two following stanzas:—

me then, ye classic Thieves of each degree,
Dark Hamilton[A] and sullen Aberdeen,
Come pilfer all the Pilgrim loves to see,
All that yet consecrates the fading scene:
Ah! better were it ye had never been,
Nor ye, nor Elgin, nor that lesser wight.
The victim sad of vase-collecting spleen.
House-furnisher withal, one Thomas[B] hight,
an ye should bear one stone from wronged Athenæ's site.

will the gentle Dilettanti crew
Now delegate the task to digging Gell,[C]
That mighty limner of a bird's eye view,
How like to Nature let his volumes tell:
Who can with him the folio's limit swell
With all the Author saw, or said he saw?
Who can topographize or delve so well?
No boaster he, nor impudent and raw,
pencil, pen, and spade, alike without a flaw.—[D. erased.]

[A] [William Richard Hamilton (1777-1859) was the son of Anthony Hamilton, Archdeacon of
Colchester, etc., and grandson of Richard Terrick, Bishop of London. In 1799, when Lord Elgin was
appointed Ambassador to the Sublime Porte, Hamilton accompanied him as private secretary. After
the battle of Ramassieh (Alexandria, March 20, 1801), and the subsequent evacuation of Egypt by the
French (August 30, 1801), Hamilton, who had been sent on a diplomatic mission, was successful in

recapturing the Rosetta Stone, which, in violation of a specified agreement, had been placed on board
a French man-of-war. He was afterwards employed by Elgin as agent plenipotentiary in the purchase,
removal, and deportation of marbles. He held office (1809-22) as Under-Secretary for Foreign
Affairs, and as Minister at the Court of Naples (1822-25). From 1838 to 1858 he was a Trustee of the
British Museum. He published, in 1809, Ægyptiaca, or Some Account of the Ancient and Modern
State of Egypt; and, in 1811, his Memorandum on the Subject of the Earl of Elgin's Pursuits in
Greece. (For Hamilton, see English Bards, etc., line 509; Poetical Works, 1898, i. 336, note 2.)]

[B] Thomas Hope, Esqr., if I mistake not, the man who publishes quartos on furniture and costume.

[Thomas Hope (1770-1831) (see Hints from Horace, line 7: Poetical Works, 1898, i. 390, note 1)
published, in 1805, a folio volume entitled, Household Furniture and Internal Decoration. It was
severely handled in the Edinburgh Review (No. xx.) for July, 1807.]

[C] It is rumoured Gell is coming out to dig in Olympia. I wish him more success than he had at
Athens. According to Lusieri's account, he began digging most furiously without a firmann, but
before the resurrection of a single sauce-pan, the Painter countermined and the Way-wode
countermanded and sent him back to bookmaking.—[MS. D.]

[See English Bards, etc., lines 1033, 1034: Poetical Works, 1898, i. 379, note 1.]

[eb] Where was thine Ægis, Goddess——.—[MS. D. erased]

[ec] {110} ——which it had well behoved.—[MS. D.]

[123] [The Athenians believed, or feigned to believe, that the marbles themselves shrieked out in
shame and agony at their removal from their ancient shrines.]

[124] [Byron is speaking of his departure from Spain, but he is thinking of his departure from Malta,
and his half-hearted amour with Mrs. Spencer Smith.]

[ed] {111} ——that rosy urchin guides.—[MS.]

[ee] Save on that part——.—[MS. erased.]

[ef] {112}

m Discipline's stern law——.—[MS.]
——keen law——.—[MS. D.]

[125] An additional "misery to human life!"—lying to at sunset for a large convoy, till the sternmost
pass ahead. Mem.: fine frigate, fair wind likely to change before morning, but enough at present for
ten knots!—[MS. D.]

[eg] ——their melting girls believe.—[MS.]

[eh] {113}

antime some rude musician's restless hand

's the brisk instrument that sailors love.—[MS. D. erased.]

[ei] Through well-known straits behold the steepy shore.—[MS. erased.]

[126] [Compare Coleridge's reflections, in his diary for April 19, 1804, on entering the Straits of
Gibraltar: "When I first sat down, with Europe on my left and Africa on my right, both distinctly
visible, I felt a quickening of the movements in the blood, but still felt it as a pleasure of amusement
rather than of thought and elevation; and at the same time, and gradually winning on the other, the
nameless silent forms of nature were working in me, like a tender thought in a man who is hailed
merrily by some acquaintance in his work, and answers it in the same tone" (Anima Poetæ, 1895, pp.
70, 71).]

[127] ["The moon is in the southern sky as the vessel passes through the Straits; consequently, the
coast of Spain is in light, that of Africa in shadow" (Childe Harold, edited by H. F. Tozer, 1885, p.
232).]

[128] [Campbell, in Gertrude of Wyoming, Canto I. stanza ii. line 6, speaks of "forests brown;" but,
as Mr. Tozer points out, "'brown' is Byron's usual epithet for landscape seen in moonlight." (Compare
Canto II. stanza lxx. line 3; Parisina, i. 10; and Siege of Corinth, ii. 1.)]

[ej] {114}

Bleeds the lone heart, once boundless in its zeal.—[D.]
And friendless now, yet dreams it had a friend.—[MS.]
Far from affection's chilled or changing zeal.—[MS.]
Divided far by fortune, wave or steel
Though friendless now we once have had a friend.—
[MS. D. erased.]

[ek] Ah! happy years! I would I were once more a boy.—[MS.]

[el] To gaze on Dian's wan reflected sphere.—[MS. D]

[em] ——her dreams of hope and pride.—[MS. D. erased.]

[en] {115} None are so wretched[*] but that——.—[MS.D.]

[*] "Desolate."—[MS. pencil.]

[eo] T.t.b. [tres tres bien], but why insert here.—[MS. pencil.]

[129] [In this stanza M. Darmesteter detects "l'accent Wordsworthien" prior to any "doses" as
prescribed by Shelley, and quotes as a possible model the following lines from Beattie's Minstrel:—

nd oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb,
When all in mist the world below was lost,
What dreadful pleasure! there to stand sublime,
Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast,

And view th' enormous waste of vapour, tost
n billows, lengthening to th' horizon round,
Now scoop'd in gulfs, with mountains now emboss'd!
And hear the voice of mirth, and song rebound,
cks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound."

In felicity of expression, the copy, if it be a copy, surpasses the original; but in the scope and
originality of the image, it is vastly inferior. Nor are these lines, with the possible exception of line 3
—"Where things that own not Man's dominion dwell," at all Wordsworthian. They fail in that
imaginative precision which the Lake poets regarded as essential, and they lack the glamour and
passion without which their canons of art would have profited nothing. Six years later, when Byron
came within sound of Wordsworth's voice, he struck a new chord—a response, not an echo. Here the
motive is rhetorical, not immediately poetical.]

[ep] {116} ——and foaming linns to lean.—[MS. D. erased.]

[130] [There are none to bless us, for when we are in distress the great, the rich, the gay, shrink from
us; and when we are popular and prosperous those who court us care nothing for us apart from our
success. Neither do they bless us, or we them.]

[eq] This is to live alone—This, This is solitude.—[MS. D.]

[131] [The MS. of stanza xxvii. is on the fly-leaf of a bound volume of proof-sheets entitled
"Additions to Childe Harold," It was first published in the seventh edition, 1814. It may be taken for
granted that Byron had seen what he describes. There is, however, no record of any visit to Mount
Athos, either in his letters from the East or in Hobhouse's journals.

The actual mount, "the giant height [6350 feet], rears itself in solitary magnificence, an insulated
cone of white limestone." "When it is seen from a distance, the peninsula [of which the southern
portion rises to a height of 2000 feet] is below the horizon, and the peak rises quite solitary from the
sea." Of this effect Byron may have had actual experience; but Hobhouse, in describing the prospect
from Cape Janissary, is careful to record that "Athos itself is said to be sometimes visible in the
utmost distance (circ. 90 miles), but it was not discernible during our stay on the spot." (Murray's
Handbook for Greece, p. 843; Childe Harold, edited by H. F. Tozer, p. 233; Travels in Albania, 1858,
ii. 103. Compare, too, the fragment entitled the Monk of Athos, first published in the Hon. Roden
Noel's Life of Lord Byron, 1890.)]

[132] {118} ["Le sage Mentor, poussant Télémaque, qui était assis sur le bord du rocher, le précipite
dans le mer et s'y jette avec lui.... Calypso inconsolable, rentra dans sa grotte, qu'elle remplit de ses
hurlements."—Fénelon's Télémaque, vi., Paris, 1837. iii. 43.]

[133] [For Mrs. Spencer Smith, see Letters, 1898, i. 244, 245, note. Moore (Life, pp. 94, 95) contrasts
stanzas xxx.-xxxv., with their parade of secret indifference and plea of "a loveless heart," with the
tenderness and warmth of his after-thoughts in Albania ("Lines composed during a Thunderstorm,"
etc.), and decides the coldness was real, the sentiment assumed. He forgets the flight of time. The
lines were written in October, 1809, within a month of his departure from "Calypso's isles," and the

Childe Harold stanzas belong to the early spring of 1810. "Ou sont les neiges d'antan?" Moreover, he
speaks by the card. Writing at Athens, January 16, 1810, he tells us, "The spell is broke, the charm is
flown."]

[134] {120} [More than one commentator gravely "sets against" this line—Byron's statement to
Dallas (Corr. of Lord Byron, Paris, 1824, iii. 91), "I am not a Joseph or a Scipio; but I can safely
affirm that never in my life I seduced any woman." Compare Memoirs of Count Carlo Gozzi, 1890,
ii. 12, "Never have I employed the iniquitous art of seduction ... Languishing in soft and thrilling
sentiments, I demanded from a woman a sympathy and inclination of like nature with my own. If she
fell ... I should have remembered how she made for me the greatest of all sacrifices.... I should have
worshipped her like a deity. I could have spent my life's blood in consoling her; and without swearing
eternal constancy, I should have been most stable on my side in loving such a mistress."]

[er] {121} Brisk Impudence——.—[MS.]

[es] Youth wasted, wretches born——.—[MS. erased.]

[135] [Compare Lucretius, iv. 1121-4—

dde quod absumunt viris pereuntque labore,

bitur interea res, et Babylonica fiunt:
nguent officia, atque ægrotat fama vacillans."]

[et] {122} Climes strange withal as ever mortal head.—[MS.]

[eu] Suspected in its little pride of thought.—[MS. erased.]

[136] ["Were counselled or advised." The passive "were ared" seems to lack authority. (See N. Eng.
Dict., art. "Aread.")]

[ev]

Her not unconscious though her weakly child.
——her rudest child.—[MS. erased.]

[137] [Compare the description of the thunderstorm in the Alps (Canto III. stanzas xcii.-xcvi., pp.
273-275); and Manfred, act ii. sc. 2—

y joy was in the wilderness; to breathe
e difficult air of the iced mountain-top—

hem my early strength exulted; or
follow through the night the moving moon,
e stars and their development; or catch
e dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim."

Beattie, who describes the experiences of his own boyhood in the person of Edwin in The Minstrel,
had already made a like protestation—

sooth he was a strange and wayward youth.
nd of each gentle and each dreadful scene.
darkness and in storm he found delight;
t less than when on ocean-wave serene
e Southern sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen;
en sad vicissitude amus'd his soul."

Kirke White, too, who was almost Byron's contemporary, and whose verses he professed to admire—

"Would run a visionary boy
en the hoarse tempest shook the vaulted sky."

This love of Nature in her wilder aspects, which was perfectly genuine, and, indeed, meritorious, was
felt to be out of the common, a note of the poetic temperament, worth recording, but unlikely to pass
without questioning and remonstrance.]

[138] {123} [Alexander's mother, Olympias, was an Epiriote. She had a place in the original draft of
Tennyson's Palace of Art (Life of Lord Tennyson,. 119)—

ne was Olympias; the floating snake
Roll'd round her ankles, round her waist
Knotted," etc.

Plutarch (Vitæ, Lipsiæ:, 1814, vi. 170) is responsible for the legend: Ὢφθη δέ ποτε καὶ δράκων
κοιμωμένης τῆς Ὀλυμπιάδου παρεκτεταμένς τῷ σώματι, "Now, one day, when Olympias lay abed,
beside her body a dragon was espied stretched out at full length." (Compare, too, Dryden's
Alexander's Feast, stanza ii.)]

[139] [Mr. Tozer (Childe Harold, p. 236) takes this line to mean "whom the young love to talk of, and
the wise to follow as an example," and points to Alexander's foresight as a conqueror, and the
"extension of commerce and civilization" which followed his victories. But, surely, the antithesis lies
between Alexander the ideal of the young, and Alexander the deterrent example of the old. The
phrase, "beacon of the wise," if Hector in Troilus and Cressida (act ii. sc. 2, line 16) is an authority, is
proverbial.

" ... The wound of peace is surety,
ety secure; but modest doubt is call'd
e beacon of the wise, the tent that searches
the bottom of the worst."

The beauty, the brilliance, the glory of Alexander kindle the enthusiasm of the young; but the murder
of Clytus and the early death which he brought upon himself are held up by the wise as beacon-lights
to save others from shipwreck.]

[140] [Byron and Hobhouse sailed for Malta in the brig-of-war Spider on Tuesday, September 19,
1809 (Byron, in a letter to his mother, November 12, says September 21), and anchored off Patras on
the night of Sunday, the 24th. On Tuesday, the 26th, they were under way at 12 noon, and on the
evening of that day they saw the sun set over Mesalonghi. The next morning, September 27, they
were in the channel between Ithaca and the mainland, with Ithaca, then in the hands of the French, to
the left. "We were close to it," says Hobhouse, "and saw a few shrubs on a brown heathy land, two
little towns in the hills scattered among trees." The travellers made "but little progress this day," and,
apparently, having redoubled Cape St. Andreas, the southern extremity of Ithaca, they sailed
(September 28) through the channel between Ithaca and Cephalonia, passed the hill of Ætos, on
which stood the so-called "Castle of Ulysses," whence Penelope may have "overlooked the wave,"
and caught sight of "the Lover's refuge" in the distance. Towards the close of the same day they
doubled Cape Ducato ("Leucadia's cape," the scene of Sappho's leap), and, sailing under "the ancient
mount," the site of the Temple of Apollo, anchored off Prevesa at seven in the evening. Poetry and
prose are not always in accord. If, as Byron says, it was "an autumn's eve" when they hailed
"Leucadia's cape afar," if the evening star shone over the rock when they approached it, they must
have sailed fast to reach Prevesa, some thirty miles to the north, by seven o'clock. But de minimis, the
Muse is as disregardful as the Law. And, perhaps, after all, it was Hobhouse who misread his log-
book. (Travels in Albania, i. 4, 5; Murray's Handbook for Greece, pp. 40, 46.)]

[141] {125} [The meaning of this passage is not quite so obvious as it seems. He has in his mind the
words, "He saved others, Himself He cannot save," and, applying this to Sappho, asks, "Why did she
who conferred immortality on herself by her verse prove herself mortal?" Without Fame, and without
verse the cause and keeper of Fame, there is no heaven, no immortality, for the sons of men. But
what security is there for the eternity of verse and Fame? "Quis custodiet custodes?"]

[142] {126} [For Byron's "star" similes, see Canto III. stanza xxxviii. line 9.]

[ew] ——and looked askance on Mars.—[MS. erased.]

[143] [Compare the line in Tennyson's song, Break, break, break, "And the stately ships go on."]

[ex]

d roused him more from thought than he was wont
ile Pleasure almost seemed to smooth his pallid front.—[MS. D.]
ile Pleasure almost smiled along——.—[MS. erased.]

[144] [By "Suli's rocks" Byron means the mountainous district in the south of the Epirus. The district
of Suli formed itself into a small republic at the close of the last century, and offered a formidable
resistance to Ali Pacha. "Pindus' inland peak," Monte Metsovo, which forms part of the ridge which
divides Epirus from Thessaly, is not visible from the sea-coast.]

[145] {127} ["Shore unknown." (See Byron's note to stanza xxxviii. line 5.)]

[ey] {128} ——lovely harmful thing.—[MS. pencil.]

[146] [Compare Byron's Stanzas written on passing the Ambracian Gulph.]

[147] [Nicopolis, "the city of victory," which Augustus, "the second Cæsar," built to commemorate
Actium, is some five miles to the north of Prevesa. Byron and Hobhouse visited the ruins on the 30th
of September, and again on the 12th of November (see Byron's letter to Mrs. Byron. November 12,
1809: Letters, 1898, i. 251).]

[ez]

perial wretches, doubling human woes!
d!—was thy globe ere made——.—[MS. erased.]

[148] {129} [The travellers left Prevesa on October 1, and arrived at Janina on October 5. They left
Janina on October 11, and reached Zitza at nightfall (Byron at 3 a.m., October 12). They left Zitza on
October 13, and arrived at Tepeleni on October 19.]

[149] [On the evening of October 11, as the party was approaching Zitza, Hobhouse and the
Albanian, Vasilly, rode on, leaving "Lord Byron and the baggage behind." It was getting dark, and
just as the luckier Hobhouse contrived to make his way to the village, the rain began to fall in
torrents. Before long, "the thunder roared as it seemed without any intermission; for the echoes of
one peal had not ceased to roll in the mountains before another crash burst over our heads." Byron,
dragoman, and baggage were not three miles from Zitza when the storm began, and they lost their
way. After many wanderings and adventures they were finally conducted by ten men with pine
torches to the hut; but by that time it was three o'clock in the morning. Hence the "Stanzas composed
during a Thunderstorm."—Hobhouse's Travels in Albania, i. 69-71.]

[150] {130} ["The prior of the monastery, a humble, meek-mannered man, entertained us in a warm
chamber with grapes and a pleasant white wine ...We were so well pleased with everything about us
that we agreed to lodge with him."—Hobhouse's Travels in Albania, i. 73.]

[fa] Here winds, if winds there be, will fan his breast.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fb] Keep Heaven for better souls, my shade shall seek for none.—[MS. erased.]

[fc] {132}

frequent is the lamb, the kid, the goat—
d watching pensive with his browsing flock.—[MS. erased.]

[fd] Counting the hours beneath yon skies unerring shock.—[MS. erased.]

[151] [The site of Dodona, a spot "at the foot of Mount Tomaros" (Mount Olytsika) in the valley of
Tcharacovista, was finally determined, in 1876, by excavations carried out, at his own expense, by
M. Constantin Carapanos, a native of Arta. In his monograph, Dodone et ses Ruines (Paris, 1878,
4to), M. Carapanos gives a detailed description of the theatre, the twofold Temenos (I. L'Enceinte du
Temple, II. Téménos, pp. 13-28), including the Temple of Zeus and a sanctuary of Aphrodite, and of
the numerous ex voto offerings and inscriptions on lead which were brought to light during the
excavations, and helped to identify the ruins. An accompanying folio volume of plates contains
(Planches, i., ii.) a map of the valley of Tcharacovista, and a lithograph of Mount Tomaros, "d'un

aspect majestueux et pittoresque ... un roc nu sillonné par le lit de nombreux torrents" (p. 8). Behind
Dodona, on the summit of the many-named chain of hills which confronts Mount Tomaros, are
"bouquets de chêne," sprung it may be from the offspring of the προσήγοροι δρύες (Æsch., Prom.,
833), the "talking oaks," which declared the will of Zeus. For the "prophetic fount" (line 2), Servius,
commenting on Virgil, Æneid, iii. 41-66, seems to be the authority: "Circa hoc templum quercus
immanis fuisse dicitur ex cujus radicibus fons manebat, qui suo murmure instinctu Deorum diversis
oracula reddebat" (Virgilii Opera, Leovardiæ, 1717, i. 548).

Byron and Hobhouse, on one of their excursions from Janina, explored and admired the ruins of the
"amphitheatre," but knew not that "here and nowhere else" was Dodona (Travels in Albania, i. 53-
56).]

[152] {133} [The sentiment that man, "whose breath is in his nostrils," should consider the
impermanence of all that is stable and durable before he cries out upon his own mortality, may have
been drawn immediately from the famous letter of consolation sent by Sulpitius Severus to Cicero,
which Byron quotes in a note to Canto IV. stanza xliv., or, in the first instance, from Tasso's
Gerusalemme Liberata, xv. 20—

ace l'alta Cartago; appena i segni
l' alte sue ruini il lido serba.
ojono le città; muojono i regni:
pre i fasti, e le pompe, arena ed erba;
uom d'esser mortal par cue si sdegni!"

Compare, too, Addison's "Reflections in Westminster Abbey," Spectator, No. 26.]

[153] [The six days' journey from Zitza to Tepeleni is compressed into a single stanza. The vale (line
3) may be that of the Kalama, through which the travellers passed (October 13) soon after leaving
Zitza, or, more probably, the plain of Deropoli ("well-cultivated, divided by rails and low hedges, and
having a river flowing through it to the south"), which they crossed (October 15) on their way from
Delvinaki, the frontier village of Illyria, to Libokhovo.]

[154] {134} ["Yclad," used as a preterite, not a participle (compare Coleridge's "I wis" [Christabel,
part i. line 92]), is a Byronism—"archaisme incorrect," says M. Darmesteter.]

[155] ["During the fast of the Ramazan, ... the gallery of each minaret is decorated with a circlet of
small lamps. When seen from a distance, each minaret presents a point of light, 'like meteors in the
sky;' and in a large city, where they are numerous, they resemble a swarm of fireflies."—H.F. Tozer.
(Compare The Giaour, i. 449-452—

hen Rhamazan's last sun was set,
d flashing from each minaret.
lions of lamps proclaimed the feast
Bairam through the boundless East.")]

[156] {135} ["A kind of dervish or recluse ... regarded as a saint."—Cent. Dict., art. "Santon."]

[fe] ——guests and vassals wait.—[MS. erased.]

[ff] While the deep Tocsin's sound——.—[MS. D. erased.]

[157] {136} ["We were disturbed during the night by the perpetual carousal which seemed to be kept
up in the gallery, and by the drum, and the voice of the 'muezzinn,' or chanter, calling the Turks to
prayers from the minaret of the mosck attached to the palace. This chanter was a boy, and he sang out
his hymn is a sort of loud melancholy recitative. He was a long time repeating the Eraun. The first
exclamation was repeated four times, the remaining words twice; and the long and piercing note in
which he concluded his confession of faith, by twice crying out the word 'hou!' ['At solemn sound of
"Alla Hu!"' Giaour, i. 734] still rings in my ears."—Hobhouse's Travels in Albania, i. 95. D'Ohsonn
gives the Eraun at full length: "Most high God! [four times repeated]. I acknowledge that there is no
other God except God! I acknowledge that there is no other God except God! I acknowledge that
Mohammed is the prophet of God! Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Come to the temple of
salvation! Come to the temple of salvation! Great God! great God! There is no God except God!"—
Oriental Antiquities (Philadelphia, 1788), p. 341.]

[158] {137} ["The Ramazan, or Turkish Lent, which, as it occurs in each of the thirteen months in
succession, fell this year in October ... Although during this month the strictest abstinence, even from
tobacco and coffee, is observed in the daytime, yet with the setting of the sun the feasting
commences."—Travels in Albania, i. 66. "The Ramadan or Rhamazan is the ninth month of the
Mohammedan year. As the Mohammedans reckon by lunar time, it begins each year eleven days
earlier than in the preceding year, so that in thirty-three years it occurs successively in all the
seasons."—Imp. Dictionary.]

[159] [The feast was spread within the courtyard, "in the part farthest from the dwelling," and when
the revelry began the "immense large gallery" or corridor, which ran along the front of the palace and
was open on one side to the court, was deserted. "Opening into the gallery were the doors of several
apartments," and as the servants passed in and out, the travellers standing in the courtyard could hear
the sound of voices.—Travels in Albania, i. 93.]

[fg] {138}

—even for health to move.—[MS.]
saves for one——.—[MS. erased.]

[fh]

r boyish minions of unhallowed love
shameless torch of wild desire is lit,
ressed, preferred even to woman's self above,
ose forms for Nature's gentler errors fit
frailties mote excuse save that which they commit.—[MS. D. erased.]

[160] [For an account of Ali Pasha (1741-1822), see Letters, 1898, i. 246, note.]

[161] [In a letter to his mother, November 12, 1809, Byron writes, "He [Ali] said he was certain I
was a man of birth, because I had small ears, curling hair, and little white hands. ... He told me to
consider him as a father whilst I was in Turkey, and said he looked on me as his son. Indeed, he
treated me like a child, sending me almonds and sugared sherbet, fruit and sweetmeats, twenty times
a day." Many years after, in the first letter On Bowles' Strictures, February 7, 1821, he introduces a
reminiscence of Ali: "I never judge from manners, for I once had my pocket picked by the civillest
gentleman I ever met with; and one of the mildest persons I ever saw was Ali Pasha" (Life, p. 689).]

[fi] {139} Delights to mingle with the lips of youth.—[MS. D. erased.]

[162] [Anacreon sometimes bewails, but more often defies old age. (Vide Carmina liv., xi., xxxiv.)

The paraphrase "Teian Muse" recurs in the song, "The Isles of Greece," Don Juan, Canto III.]

[fj] But 'tis those ne'er forgotten acts of ruth.—[MS. D.]

[163] [In the first edition the reading (see var. ii.) is, "But crimes, those ne'er forgotten crimes of
ruth." The mistake was pointed out in the Quarterly Review (March, 1812, No. 13, vol. vii. p. 193).

But in Spenser "ruth" means sorrow as well as pity, and three weeks after Childe Harold was
published, Ali committed a terrible crime, the outcome of an early grief. On March 27, 1812, in
revenge for wrongs done to his mother and sister nearly thirty years before, he caused 670
Gardhikiots to be massacred in the khan of Valiare, and followed up the act of treachery by sacking,
plundering, and burning the town of Gardiki, and, "in direct violation of the Mohammedan law,"
carrying off and reducing to slavery the women and children.—Finlay's Hist. of Greece (edited by
Rev. H. F. Tozer, 1877), vi. 67, 68.]

[fk] {140} Those who in blood begin in blood conclude their span.—[MS. erased.]

[164] [This was prophetic. "On the 5th of February, 1822, a meeting took place between Ali and
Mohammed Pasha.... When Mohammed rose to depart, the two viziers, being of equal rank, moved
together towards the door.... As they parted Ali bowed low to his visitor, and Mohammed, seizing the
moment when the watchful eye of the old man was turned away, drew his hanjar, and plunged it in
Ali's heart. He walked on calmly to the gallery, and said to the attendants, 'Ali of Tepalen is dead.' ...
The head of Ali was exposed at the gate of the serai."—Finlay's Hist. of Greece, 1877, vi. 94, 95.]

[fl]

lde Harold with that chief held colloquy
what they spake it boots not to repeat;
nverse may little charm strange ear or eye;
eit he rested on that spacious seat,
Moslem luxury the choice retreat.—[MS. D. erased.]
ur days he rested on that worthy seat.-[MS. erased.]

[165] {141} [The travellers left Janina on November 3, and reached Prevesa November 7. At midday
November 9 they set sail for Patras in a galliot of Ali's, "a vessel of about fifty tons burden, with

three short masts and a large lateen sail." Instead of doubling Cape Ducato, they were driven out to
sea northward, and, finally, at one o'clock in the morning, anchored off the Port of Phanari on the
Suliote coast. Towards the evening of the next day (November 10) they landed in "the marshy bay"
(stanza lxviii. line 2) and rode to Volondorako, where they slept. "Here they were well received by
the Albanian primate of the place and by the Vizier's soldiers quartered there." Instead of re-
embarking in the galliot, they returned to Prevesa by land (November 11). As the country to the north
of the Gulf of Arta was up in arms, and bodies of robbers were abroad, they procured an escort of
thirty-seven Albanians, hired another galliot, and on Monday, the 13th, sailed across the entrance of
the gulf as far as the fortress of Vonitsa, where they anchored for the night. By four o'clock in the
afternoon of November 14 they reached Utraikey or Lutraki, "situated in a deep bay surrounded with
rocks at the south-east corner of the Gulf of Arta." The courtyard of a barrack on the shore is the
scene of the song and dance (stanzas lxx.-lxxii.). Here, in the original MS., the pilgrimage abruptly
ends, and in the remaining stanzas the Childe moralizes on the fallen fortunes and vanished heroism
of Greece.—Travels in Albania, i. 157-165.]

[166] {143} [The route from Utraikey to Gouria (November 15-18) lay through "thick woods of
oak," with occasional peeps of the open cultivated district of Ætolia on the further side of the
Aspropotamo, "white Achelous' tide." The Albanian guard was not dismissed until the travellers
reached Mesolonghi (November 21).]

[167] [With this description Mr. Tozer compares Virgil, Æneid, i. 159-165, and Tasso's imitation in
Gerus. Lib., canto xv. stanzas 42, 43. The following lines from Hoole's translation (Jerusalem
Delivered, bk. xv. lines 310, 311, 317, 318) may be cited:—

midst these isles a lone recess is found,
ere circling shores the subject flood resound ...
hin the waves repose in peace serene;
ck forests nod above, a silvan scene!"]

[168] {144} ["In the evening the gates were secured, and preparations were made for feeding our
Albanians. A goat was killed and roasted whole, and four fires were kindled in the yard, round which
the soldiers seated themselves in parties. After eating and drinking, the greater part of them
assembled round the largest of the fires, and, whilst ourselves and the elders of the party were seated
on the ground, danced round the blaze to their own songs, in the manner before described, but with
astonishing energy. All their songs were relations of some robbing exploits. One of them ... began
thus: 'When we set out from Parga there were sixty of us!' then came the burden of the verse—

bbers all at Parga!
bbers all at Parga!'
έφτεις ποτὲ Πάργα!
έφτεις ποτὲ Πάργα!

And as they roared out this stave, they whirled round the fire, dropped, and rebounded from their
knees, and again whirled round as the chorus was again repeated."—Travels in Albania, i. 166, 167.]

[169] {145} [This was not Byron's first experience of an Albanian war-song. At Salakhora, on the
Gulf of Arta (nine miles north-east of Prevesa), which he reached on October 1, the Albanian guard at
the custom-house entertained the travellers by "singing some songs." "The music is extremely
monotonous and nasal; and the shrill scream of their voices was increased by each putting his hand
behind his ear and cheek, to give more force to the sound."—Travels in Albania, i. 28.

Long afterwards, in 1816, one evening, on the Lake of Geneva, Byron entertained Shelley, Mary, and
Claire with "an Albanian song." They seem to have felt that such melodies "unheard are sweeter."
Hence, perhaps, his petit nom, "Albè," that is, the "Albaneser."—Life of Shelley, by Edward Dowden,
1896, p. 309.]

[170] {146} [Tambourgi, "drummer," a Turkish word, formed by affixing the termination -gi, which
signifies "one who discharges any occupation," to the French tambour (H. F. Tozer, Childe Harold, p.
246).]

[fm] ——thy tocsin afar.—[MS. D. erased.]

[171] [The camese is the fustanella or white kilt of the Toska, a branch of the Albanian, or Shkipetar,
race. Spenser has the forms "camis," "camus." The Arabic quamīç occurs in the Koran, but is thought
to be an adaptation of the Latin camisia, camisa.—Finlay's Hist, of Greece, vi. 39; N. Eng. Dict., art.
"Camis." (For "capote," vide post, p. 181.)]

[fn] Shall the sons of Chimæra——.—[MS. D.]

[172] [The Suliotes, after a protracted and often successful resistance, were finally reduced by Ali, in
December, 1803. They are adjured to forget their natural desire for vengeance, and to unite with the
Albanians against their common foe, the Russians.]

[fo] {147} Shall win the young minions——.—[MS. D.]

[fp] ——the maid and the youth.—[MS.]

[fq] Their caresses shall lull us, their voices shall soothe.—[MS. D. erased.]

[173] {148} [So, too, at Salakhora (October 1): "One of the songs was on the taking of Prevesa, an
exploit of which the Albanians are vastly proud; and there was scarcely one of them in which the
name of Ali Pasha was not roared out and dwelt upon with peculiar energy."—Travels in Albania, i.
29.

Prevesa, which, with other Venetian possessions, had fallen to the French in 1797, was taken in the
Sultan's name by Ali, in October, 1798. The troops in the garrison (300 French, 460 Greeks)
encountered and were overwhelmed by 5000 Albanians, on the plain of Nicopolis. The victors
entered and sacked the town.]

[174] [Ali's eldest son, Mukhtar, the Pasha of Berat, had been sent against the Russians, who, in
1809, invaded the trans-Danubian provinces of the Ottoman Empire.]

[175] Yellow is the epithet given to the Russians.

[176] Infidel.

[177] The insignia of a Pacha.

[178] {149} [The literal meaning of Delhi or Deli, is, says M. Darmesteter, "fou" ["properly
madmen" (D'Herbelot)], a title bestowed on Turkish warriors honoris causû. Byron suggests "forlorn
hope" as an equivalent; but there is a wide difference between the blood-drunkenness of the Turk and
the "foolishness" of British chivalry.]

[179] Sword-bearer.

[fr] Tambourgi! thy tocsin——.—[MS. D. erased]

[180] [Compare "The Isles of Greece," stanza 7 (Don Juan, Canto III.)—

rth! render back from out thy heart
A remnant of our Spartan dead!
the three hundred grant but three
To make a new Thermopylæ!"

The meaning is, "When shall another Lysander spring from Laconia ('Eurotas' banks') and revive the
heroism of the ancient Spartans?"]

[fs] {150} A fawning feeble race, untaught, enslaved, unmanned.—[MS. erased.]

[ft] ——fair Liberty.—[MS. erased, D.]

[181] {151} [Compare The Age of Bronze, vi. lines 39-46.]

[182] [The Wahabees, who took their name from the Arab sheik Mohammed ben Abd-el-Wahab,
arose in the province of Nedj, in Central Arabia, about 1760. Half-socialists, half-puritans, they
insisted on fulfilling to the letter the precepts of the Koran. In 1803-4 they attacked and ravaged
Mecca and Medinah, and in 1808 they invaded Syria and took Damascus. During Byron's residence
in the East they were at the height of their power, and seemed to threaten the very existence of the
Turkish empire.]

[183] {152} [Byron spent two months in Constantinople (Stamboul, i.e. εἰς τὴν πόλιν)—from May
14 to July 14, 1810. The "Lenten days," which were ushered in by a carnival, were those of the
second "great" Lent of the Greek Church, that of St. Peter and St. Paul, which begins on the first
Monday after Trinity, and ends on the 29th of June.]

[184] {153} [These al-fresco festivities must, it is presumed, have taken place on the two days out of
the seven when you "might not 'damn the climate' and complain of the spleen." Hobhouse records
excursions to the Valley of Sweet Waters; to Belgrade, where "the French minister gave a sort of fête-
champêtre," when "the carousal lasted four days," and when "night after night is kept awake by the
pipes, tabors, and fiddles of these moonlight dances;" and to the grove of Fanar-Baktchesi.—Travels
in Albania, ii. 242-258.]

[185]

here's nothing like young Love, No! No!
There's nothing like young love at last."]

[186] {154} [It has been assumed that "searment" is an incorrect form of "cerement," the cloth
dipped "in melting wax, in which dead bodies were enfolded when embalmed" (Hamlet, act i. sc. 4),
but the sense of the passage seems rather to point to "cerecloth," "searcloth," a plaster to cover up a
wound. The "robe of revel" does but half conceal the sore and aching heart.]

[187] [For the accentuation of the word, compare Chaucer, "The Sompnour's Tale" (Canterbury
Tales, line 7631)—

nd dronkennesse is eke a foul recórd
any man, and namely of a lord."]

[fu] When Athens' children are with arts endued.—[MS. D.]

[188] [Compare Ecclus. xliv. 8, 9: "There be of them, that have left a name behind them, that their
praises might be reported. And some there be, which have no memorial; who are perished, as though
they had never been."]

[189] {156} [The "solitary column" may be that on the shore of the harbour of Colonna, in the island
of Kythnos (Thermia), or one of the detached columns of the Olympeion.]

[190] [Tritonia, or Tritogenia, one of Athena's names of uncertain origin. Hofmann's Lexicon
Universale, Tooke's Pantheon, and Smith's Classical Dictionary are much in the same tale. Lucan
(Pharsalia, lib. ix. lines 350-354) derives the epithet from Lake Triton, or Tritonis, on the
Mediterranean coast of Libya—

anc et Pallas amat: patrio quæ vertice nata
rarum primum Libyen (nam proxima coelo est,
probat ipse calor) tetigit, stagnique quietâ
tus vidit aquâ, posuitque in margine plantas,
se dilectâ Tritonida dixit ab undâ."]

[191] [Hobhouse dates the first visit to Cape Colonna, January 24, 1810.]

[192] {157} [Athené's dower of the olive induced the gods to appoint her as the protector and name-
giver of Athens. Poseidon, who had proffered a horse, was a rejected candidate. (See note by Rev. E.
C. Owen, Childe Harold, 1897, p. 175.)]

[193] ["The wild thyme is in great abundance; but there are only two stands of bee-hives on the
mountains, and very little of the real honey of Hymettus is to be now procured at Athens.... A small
pot of it was shown to me as a rarity" (Travels in Albania, i. 341). There is now, a little way out of
Athens, a "honey-farm, where the honey from Hymettus is prepared for sale" (Handbook for Greece,
p. 500).]

[fv] ——Pentele's marbles glare.—[MS. D. erased.]

[194] [Stanzas lxxxviii.-xc. are not in the MS., but were first included in the seventh edition, 1814.]

[195] [Byron and Hobhouse, after visiting Colonna, slept at Keratéa, and proceeded to Marathon on
January 25, returning to Athens on the following day.]

[fw] {158} Preserve alike its form——.—[MS. L.]

[fx] When uttered to the listener's eye——.—[MS. L.]

[fy] The host, the plain, the fight——.—[MS. L.]

[fz] The shattered Mede who flies with broken bow.—[MS. L.]

[196] ["The plain of Marathon is enclosed on three sides by the rocky arms of Parnes and Pentelicus,
while the fourth is bounded by the sea." After the first rush, when the victorious wings, where the
files were deep, had drawn together and extricated the shallower and weaker centre, which had been
repulsed by the Persians and the Sakæ, "the pursuit became general, and the Persians were chased to
their ships, ranged in line along the shore. Some of them became involved in the impassable marsh,
and there perished." (See Childe Harold, edited by H. F. Tozer, 1885, p. 253; Grote's History of
Greece, iv. 276. See, too, Travels in Albania, i. 378-384.)]

[ga] To tell what Asia troubled but to hear.—[MS. L.]

[197] [See note to Canto II. stanzas i.-xv., pp. 99, 100.]

[gb] Long to the remnants—.——[D.]

[198] [The "Ionian blast" is the western wind that brings the voyager across the Ionian Sea.]

[199] {160} [The original MS. closes with this stanza.]

[gc] Which heeds nor stern reproach——.—[D.]

[gd] {161}Would I had ne'er returned——.—[D.]

[200]

"To Mr. Dallas.

The 'he' refers to 'Wanderer' and anything is better than I I I I always I.

Yours,

BYRON."

[4th Revise B.M.]

[ge] But Time the Comforter shall come at last.—[MS. erased.]

[201] [Compare Young's Night Thoughts ("The Complaint," Night i.). Vide ante, p. 95.]

[gf]

ough Time not yet hath ting'd my locks with snow,[*]
hath he reft whate'er my soul enjoy'd.—[D.]

[*] "To Mr. Dallas.

If Mr. D. wishes me to adopt the former line so be it. I prefer the other I confess, it has less egotism—
the first sounds affected.

Yours,

BYRON."

[Dallas assented, and directed the printer to let the Roll stand.]

NOTES

TO

CHILDE HAROLD'S
PILGRIMAGE .
CANTO II.

1.

pite of War and wasting fire.
Stanza i. line 4.

P art of the Acropolis was destroyed by the explosion of a magazine
during the Venetian siege.

[In 1684, when the Venetian Armada threatened Athens, the Turks
removed the Temple of Victory, and made use of the materials for the
construction of a bastion. In the autumn of 1687, when the city was
besieged by the Venetians under Francesco Morosini (1618-1694; Doge of
Venice, 1688), "mortars were planted ... near the north-east corner of the
rock, which threw their shells at a high angle, with a low charge, into the
Acropolis.... On the 25th of September, a Venetian bomb blew up a small
powder-magazine in the Propylæa, and on the following evening another
fell in the Parthenon, where the Turks had deposited ... a considerable
quantity of powder.... A terrific explosion took place; the central columns of

the peristyle, the walls of the cella, and the immense architraves and
cornices they supported, were scattered around the remains of the temple.
The Propylæa had been partly destroyed in 1656 by the explosion of a
magazine which was struck by lightning."—Finlay's History of Greece,
1887, i. 185.]

2.

worse than steel, and flame, and ages slow,
he dread sceptre and dominion dire.
Stanza i. lines 6, 7.

We can all feel, or imagine, the regret with which the ruins of cities,
once the capitals of empires, are beheld: the reflections suggested by such
objects are too trite to require recapitulation. But never did the littleness of
man, and the vanity of his very best virtues, of patriotism to exalt, and of
valour to defend his country appear more conspicuous than in the record of
what Athens was, and the certainty of what she now is. This theatre of
contention between mighty factions, of the struggles of orators, the
exaltation and deposition of tyrants, the triumph and punishment of
generals, is now become a scene of petty intrigue and perpetual disturbance,
between the bickering agents of certain British nobility and gentry. "The
wild foxes, the owls and serpents in the ruins of Babylon,"[202] were surely
less degrading than such inhabitants. The Turks have the plea of conquest
for their tyranny, and the Greeks have only suffered the fortune of war,
incidental to the bravest; but how are the mighty fallen, when two
painters[203] contest the privilege of plundering the Parthenon, and triumph
in turn, according to the tenor of each succeeding firman! Sylla could but
punish, Philip subdue, and Xerxes burn Athens; but it remained for the
paltry antiquarian, and his despicable agents, to render her contemptible as
himself and his pursuits. The Parthenon, before its destruction, in part, by
fire during the Venetian siege, had been a temple, a church, and a mosque.

[204]
In each point of view it is an object of regard: it changed its
worshippers; but still it was a place of worship thrice sacred to devotion: its
violation is a triple sacrifice. But—

"Man, proud man,
st in a little brief authority,
ys such fantastic tricks before high Heaven
make the angels weep."

[Shakespeare, Measure for Measure,
act ii. sc. 2, lines 117-122.]

3.

on the solitary shore he sleeps.
Stanza v. line 2.

It was not always the custom of the Greeks to burn their dead; the
greater Ajax, in particular, was interred entire. Almost all the chiefs became
gods after their decease; and he was indeed neglected, who had not annual
games near his tomb, or festivals in honour of his memory by his
countrymen, as Achilles, Brasidas, etc., and at last even Antinous, whose
death was as heroic as his life was infamous.

4.

e, son of Saturn! was thy favourite throne.
Stanza x. line 3.

The Temple of Jupiter Olympius, of which sixteen columns, entirely of
marble, yet survive; originally there were one hundred and fifty. These
columns, however, are by many supposed to have belonged to the Pantheon.

[The Olympieion, or Temple of Zeus Olympius, on the south-east of the
Acropolis, some five hundred yards from the foot of the rock, was begun by

Pisistratos, and completed seven hundred years later by Hadrian. It was one
of the three or four largest temples of antiquity. The cella had been
originally enclosed by a double row of twenty columns at the sides, and a
triple row of eight columns at each front, making a hundred and four
columns in all; but in 1810 only sixteen "lofty Corinthian columns" were
standing. Mr. Tozer points out that "'base' is accurate, because Corinthian
columns have bases, which Doric columns have not," and notes that the
word "'unshaken' implies that the column itself had fallen, but the base
remains."—Childe Harold, 1888, p. 228.]

5.

d bear these altars o'er the long-reluctant brine.
Stanza xi. line 9.

The ship was wrecked in the Archipelago.

[The Mentor, which Elgin had chartered to convey to England a cargo
consisting of twelve chests of antiquities, was wrecked off the Island of
Cerigo, in 1803. His secretary, W. R. Hamilton, set divers to work, and
rescued four chests; but the remainder were not recovered till 1805.]

6.

ive what Goth, and Turk, and Time hath spared.
Stanza xii. line 2.

At this moment (January 3, 1810), besides what has been already
deposited in London, an Hydriot vessel is in the Pyræus to receive every
portable relic. Thus, as I heard a young Greek observe, in common with
many of his countrymen—for, lost as they are, they yet feel on this occasion
—thus may Lord Elgin boast of having ruined Athens. An Italian painter of
the first eminence, named Lusieri[205], is the agent of devastation; and like
the Greek finder[206] of Verres in Sicily, who followed the same profession,

he has proved the able instrument of plunder. Between this artist and the
French Consul Fauvel[207], who wishes to rescue the remains for his own
government, there is now a violent dispute concerning a car employed in
their conveyance, the wheel of which—I wish they were both broken upon
it!—has been locked up by the Consul, and Lusieri has laid his complaint
before the Waywode. Lord Elgin has been extremely happy in his choice of
Signer Lusieri. During a residence of ten years in Athens, he never had the
curiosity to proceed as far as Sunium (now Cape Colonna),[208] till he
accompanied us in our second excursion. However, his works, as far as they
go, are most beautiful: but they are almost all unfinished. While he and his
patrons confine themselves to tasting medals, appreciating cameos,
sketching columns, and cheapening gems, their little absurdities are as
harmless as insect or fox-hunting, maiden-speechifying, barouche-driving,
or any such pastime; but when they carry away three or four shiploads of
the most valuable and massy relics that time and barbarism have left to the
most injured and most celebrated of cities: when they destroy, in a vain
attempt to tear down, those works which have been the admiration of ages, I
know no motive which can excuse, no name which can designate, the
perpetrators of this dastardly devastation. It was not the least of the crimes
laid to the charge of Verres, that he had plundered Sicily, in the manner
since imitated at Athens. The most unblushing impudence could hardly go
farther than to affix the name of its plunderer to the walls of the Acropolis;
while the wanton and useless defacement of the whole range of the basso-
relievos, in one compartment of the temple, will never permit that name to
be pronounced by an observer without execration.

On this occasion I speak impartially: I am not a collector or admirer of
collections, consequently no rival; but I have some early prepossession in
favour of Greece, and do not think the honour of England advanced by
plunder, whether of India or Attica.

Another noble Lord [Aberdeen] has done better, because he has done
less: but some others, more or less noble, yet "all honourable men," have

done best, because, after a deal of excavation and execration, bribery to the
Waywode, mining and countermining, they have done nothing at all. We
had such ink-shed, and wine-shed, which almost ended in bloodshed![209]
Lord E.'s "prig"—see Jonathan Wild for the definition of "priggism"[210]—
quarrelled with another, Gropius[211] by name (a very good name too for his
business), and muttered something about satisfaction, in a verbal answer to
a note of the poor Prussian: this was stated at table to Gropius, who
laughed, but could eat no dinner afterwards. The rivals were not reconciled
when I left Greece. I have reason to remember their squabble, for they
wanted to make me their arbitrator.

7.

Sons too weak the sacred shrine to guard,
felt some portion of their Mother's pains.
Stanza xii. lines 7 and 8.

I cannot resist availing myself of the permission of my friend Dr. Clarke,
whose name requires no comment with the public, but whose sanction will
add tenfold weight to my testimony, to insert the following extract from a
very obliging letter of his to me, as a note to the above lines:—"When the
last of the Metopes was taken from the Parthenon, and, in moving of it,
great part of the superstructure with one of the triglyphs was thrown down
by the workmen whom Lord Elgin employed, the Disdar, who beheld the
mischief done to the building, took his pipe from his mouth, dropped a tear,
and in a supplicating tone of voice, said to Lusieri, Τέλος!—I was present."
The Disdar alluded to was the father of the present Disdar.

[Disdar, or Dizdar, i.e. castle-holder—the warden of a castle or fort (N.
Eng. Dict., art. "Dizdar"). The story is told at greater length in Travels in
Various Countries of Europe, Asia, and Africa, by Edward Daniel Clarke,
LL.D., 1810-14, Part II. sect. ii. p. 483.]

8.

ere was thine Ægis, Pallas! that appalled
tern Alaric and Havoc on their way?
Stanza xiv. lines i and 2.

According to Zosimus, Minerva and Achilles frightened Alaric from the
Acropolis: but others relate that the Gothic king was nearly as mischievous
as the Scottish peer.—See Chandler.

[Zosimus, Historiæ, lib. v. cap. 6, Corp. Scr. Byz., 1837, p. 253. As a
matter of fact, Alaric, King of the Visigoths, occupied Athens in A.D. 395
without resistance, and carried off the movable treasures of the city, though
he did not destroy buildings or works of art.—Note by Rev. E. C. Owen,
Childe Harold, 1898, p. 162.]

9.

The netted canopy.
Stanza xviii. line 2.

To prevent blocks or splinters from falling on deck during action.

10.

But not in silence pass Calypso's isles.
Stanza xxix. line 1.

Goza is said to have been the island of Calypso.

[Strabo (Paris, 1853), lib. i. cap. ii. 57 and lib. vii. cap. iii. 50, says that
Apollodorus blamed the poet Callimachus, who was a grammarian and
ought to have known better, for his contention that Gaudus, i.e. Gozo, was
Calypso's isle. Ogygia (Odyssey, i. 50) was

"a sea-girt isle,
ere is the navel of the sea, a woodland isle."

It was surely as a poet, not as a grammarian, that Callimachus was at
fault.]

11.

d of Albania! let me bend mine eyes
thee, thou rugged Nurse of savage men!
Stanza xxxviii. lines 5 and 6.

Albania comprises part of Macedonia, Illyria, Chaonia, and Epirus.
Iskander is the Turkish word for Alexander; and the celebrated
Scanderbeg[212] (Lord Alexander) is alluded to in the third and fourth lines of
the thirty-eighth stanza. I do not know whether I am correct in making
Scanderbeg the countryman of Alexander, who was born at Pella in
Macedon, but Mr. Gibbon terms him so, and adds Pyrrhus to the list, in
speaking of his exploits.

Of Albania Gibbon remarks that a country "within sight of Italy is less
known than the interior of America." Circumstances, of little consequence
to mention, led Mr. Hobhouse and myself into that country before we
visited any other part of the Ottoman dominions; and with the exception of
Major Leake,[213] then officially resident at Joannina, no other Englishmen
have ever advanced beyond the capital into the interior, as that gentleman
very lately assured me. Ali Pacha was at that time (October, 1809) carrying
on war against Ibrahim Pacha, whom he had driven to Berat, a strong
fortress, which he was then besieging: on our arrival at Joannina we were
invited to Tepaleni, his highness's birthplace, and favourite Serai, only one
day's distance from Berat; at this juncture the Vizier had made it his
headquarters. After some stay in the capital, we accordingly followed; but
though furnished with every accommodation, and escorted by one of the

Vizier's secretaries, we were nine days (on account of the rains) in
accomplishing a journey which, on our return, barely occupied four. On our
route we passed two cities, Argyrocastro and Libochabo, apparently little
inferior to Yanina in size; and no pencil or pen can ever do justice to the
scenery in the vicinity of Zitza and Delvinachi, the frontier village of Epirus
and Albania Proper.

On Albania and its inhabitants I am unwilling to descant, because this
will be done so much better by my fellow-traveller, in a work which may
probably precede this in publication, that I as little wish to follow as I
would to anticipate him.[214] But some few observations are necessary to the
text. The Arnaouts, or Albanese, struck me forcibly by their resemblance to
the Highlanders of Scotland, in dress, figure, and manner of living. Their
very mountains seemed Caledonian, with a kinder climate. The kilt, though
white; the spare, active form; their dialect, Celtic in its sound; and their
hardy habits, all carried me back to Morven. No nation are so detested and
dreaded by their neighbours as the Albanese; the Greeks hardly regard them
as Christians, or the Turks as Moslems; and in fact they are a mixture of
both, and sometimes neither. Their habits are predatory—all are armed; and
the red-shawled Arnaouts, the Montenegrins, Chimariots, and Gegdes, are
treacherous;[215] the others differ somewhat in garb, and essentially in
character. As far as my own experience goes, I can speak favourably. I was
attended by two, an Infidel and a Mussulman, to Constantinople and every
other part of Turkey which came within my observation; and more faithful
in peril, or indefatigable in service, are rarely to be found. The Infidel was
named Basilius; the Moslem, Dervish Tahiri; the former a man of middle
age, and the latter about my own. Basili was strictly charged by Ali Pacha in
person to attend us; and Dervish was one of fifty who accompanied us
through the forests of Acarnania to the banks of Achelous, and onward to
Messalonghi in Ætolia. There I took him into my own service, and never
had occasion to repent it till the moment of my departure.

When, in 1810, after the departure of my friend Mr. Hobhouse for
England, I was seized with a severe fever in the Morea, these men saved my
life by frightening away my physician, whose throat they threatened to cut
if I was not cured within a given time. To this consolatory assurance of
posthumous retribution, and a resolute refusal of Dr. Romanelli's
prescriptions, I attributed my recovery.[gg] I had left my last remaining
English servant at Athens; my dragoman was as ill as myself, and my poor
Arnaouts nursed me with an attention which would have done honour to
civilization. They had a variety of adventures; for the Moslem, Dervish,
being a remarkably handsome man, was always squabbling with the
husbands of Athens; insomuch that four of the principal Turks paid me a
visit of remonstrance at the Convent on the subject of his having taken a
woman from the bath—whom he had lawfully bought, however—a thing
quite contrary to etiquette. Basili also was extremely gallant amongst his
own persuasion, and had the greatest veneration for the church, mixed with
the highest contempt of churchmen, whom he cuffed upon occasion in a
most heterodox manner. Yet he never passed a church without crossing
himself; and I remember the risk he ran in entering St. Sophia, in Stambol,
because it had once been a place of his worship. On remonstrating with him
on his inconsistent proceedings, he invariably answered, "Our church is
holy, our priests are thieves:" and then he crossed himself as usual, and
boxed the ears of the first "papas" who refused to assist in any required
operation, as was always found to be necessary where a priest had any
influence with the Cogia Bashi[216] of his village. Indeed, a more abandoned
race of miscreants cannot exist than the lower orders of the Greek clergy.

When preparations were made for my return, my Albanians were
summoned to receive their pay. Basili took his with an awkward show of
regret at my intended departure, and marched away to his quarters with his
bag of piastres. I sent for Dervish, but for some time he was not to be
found; at last he entered, just as Signor Logotheti,[217] father to the ci-devant
Anglo-consul of Athens, and some other of my Greek acquaintances, paid

me a visit. Dervish took the money in his hand, but on a sudden dashed it to
the ground; and clasping his hands, which he raised to his forehead, rushed
out of the room weeping bitterly. From that moment to the hour of my
embarkation, he continued his lamentations, and all our efforts to console
him only produced this answer, "Μ'αφεινει", "He leaves me." Signer
Logotheti, who never wept before for anything less than the loss of a para
(about the fourth of a farthing), melted; the padre of the convent, my
attendants, my visitors—and I verily believe that even Sterne's "foolish fat
scullion" would have left her "fish-kettle" to sympathize with the unaffected
and unexpected sorrow of this barbarian.[218]

For my own part, when I remembered that, a short time before my
departure from England, a noble and most intimate associate had excused
himself from taking leave of me because he had to attend a female relation
"to a milliner's,"[219] I felt no less surprised than humiliated by the present
occurrence and the past recollection. That Dervish would leave me with
some regret was to be expected; when master and man have been
scrambling over the mountains of a dozen provinces together, they are
unwilling to separate; but his present feelings, contrasted with his native
ferocity, improved my opinion of the human heart. I believe this almost
feudal fidelity is frequent amongst them. One day, on our journey over
Parnassus, an Englishman in my service gave him a push in some dispute
about the baggage, which he unluckily mistook for a blow; he spoke not,
but sat down leaning his head upon his hands. Foreseeing the consequences,
we endeavoured to explain away the affront, which produced the following
answer:—"I have been a robber; I am a soldier; no captain ever struck me;
you are my master, I have eaten your bread, but by that bread! (a usual oath)
had it been otherwise, I would have stabbed the dog, your servant, and gone
to the mountains." So the affair ended, but from that day forward he never
thoroughly forgave the thoughtless fellow who insulted him. Dervish
excelled in the dance of his country, conjectured to be a remnant of the
ancient Pyrrhic: be that as it may, it is manly, and requires wonderful agility.

It is very distinct from the stupid Romaika,[220] the dull round-about of the
Greeks, of which our Athenian party had so many specimens.

The Albanians in general (I do not mean the cultivators of the earth in
the provinces, who have also that appellation, but the mountaineers) have a
fine cast of countenance; and the most beautiful women I ever beheld, in
stature and in features, we saw levelling the road broken down by the
torrents between Delvinachi and Libochabo. Their manner of walking is
truly theatrical; but this strut is probably the effect of the capote, or cloak,
depending from one shoulder. Their long hair reminds you of the Spartans,
and their courage in desultory warfare is unquestionable. Though they have
some cavalry amongst the Gegdes, I never saw a good Arnaout horseman;
my own preferred the English saddles, which, however, they could never
keep. But on foot they are not to be subdued by fatigue.

12.

And passed the barren spot,
ere sad Penelope o'erlooked the wave.
Stanza xxxix. lines 1 and 2.

Ithaca.

13.

ium—Lepanto—fatal Trafalgar.
Stanza xl. line 5.

Actium and Trafalgar need no further mention. The battle of Lepanto
[October 7, 1571], equally bloody and considerable, but less known, was
fought in the Gulf of Patras. Here the author of Don Quixote lost his left
hand.

["His [Cervantes'] galley the Marquesa, was in the thick of the fight, and
before it was over he had received three gun-shot wounds, two in the breast
and one on the left hand or arm." In consequence of his wound "he was
seven months in hospital before he was discharged. He came out with his
left hand permanently disabled; he had lost the use of it, as Mercury told
him in the 'Viaje del Parnase,' for the greater glory of the right."—Don
Quixote, A Translation by John Ormsby, 1885, Introduction, i. 13.]

14.

d hailed the last resort of fruitless love.
Stanza xli. line 3.

Leucadia, now Santa Maura. From the promontory (the Lover's Leap)
Sappho is said to have thrown herself.

[Strabo (lib. x. cap. 2, ed. Paris, 1853, p. 388) gives Menander as an
authority for the legend that Sappho was the first to take the "Lover's Leap"
from the promontory of Leucate. Writers, he adds, better versed in
antiquities ἀρχαιολογικώτεροι, prefer the claims of one Cephalus. Another
legend, which he gives as a fact, perhaps gave birth to the later and more
poetical fiction. The Leucadians, he says, once a year, on Apollo's day, were
wont to hurl a criminal from the rock into the sea by way of expiation and
propitiation. Birds of all kinds were attached to the victim to break his fall,
and, if he reached the sea uninjured, there was a fleet of little boats ready to
carry him to other shores. It is possible that dim memories of human
sacrifice lingered in the islands, that in course of time victims were
transformed into "lovers," and it is certain that poets and commentators,
"prone to lie," are responsible for names and incidents.]

15.

ny a Roman chief and Asian King.

Stanza xlv. line 4.

It is said, that on the day previous to the battle of Actium, Antony had
thirteen kings at his levee.

[Plutarch, in his Antonius, gives the names of "six auxiliary kings who
fought under his banners," and mentions six other kings who did not attend
in person but sent supplies. Shakespeare (Anthony and Cleopatra, act iii. sc.
6, lines 68-75), quoting Plutarch almost verbatim, enumerates ten kings
who were "assembled" in Anthony's train—

cchus, the king of Libya; Archelaus,
Cappadocia; Philadelphos, king
Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas;
g Malchus of Arabia; king of Pont;
od of Jewry; Mithridates, king
Comagene; Polemon and Amintas,
kings of Mede and Lycaonia,
h a more larger list of sceptres."

Other authorities for the events of the campaign and battle of Actium
(Dion Cassius, Appian, and Orosius) are silent as to "kings;" but Florus (iv.
11) says that the wind-tossed waters "vomited back" to the shore gold and
purple, the spoils of the Arabians and Sabæans, and a thousand other
peoples of Asia.]

16.

k where the second Cæsar's trophies rose.
Stanza xlv. line 6.

Nicopolis, whose ruins are most extensive, is at some distance from
Actium, where the wall of the Hippodrome survives in a few fragments.
These ruins are large masses of brickwork, the bricks of which are joined by
interstices of mortar, as large as the bricks themselves, and equally durable.

17.

Acherusia's lake.
Stanza xlvii. line 1.

According to Pouqueville, the lake of Yanina; but Pouqueville is always
out.

[The lake of Yanina (Janina or Joannina) was the ancient Pambotis. "At
the mouth of the gorge [of Suli], where it suddenly comes to an end, was
the marsh, the Palus Acherusia, in the neighbourhood of which was the
Oracle."—Geography of Greece, by H. F. Tozer, 1873, p. 121.]

18.

greet Albania's Chief.
Stanza xlvii. line 4.

The celebrated Ali Pacha. Of this extraordinary man there is an incorrect
account in Pouqueville's Travels. [For note on Ali Pasha (1741-1822), see
Letters, 1898, i. 246.]

19.

Yet here and there some daring mountain-band
Disdain his power, and from their rocky hold
l their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold.
Stanza xlvii. lines 7, 8, and 9.

Five thousand Suliotes, among the rocks and in the castle of Suli,
withstood thirty thousand Albanians for eighteen years; the castle at last
was taken by bribery. In this contest there were several acts performed not
unworthy of the better days of Greece.

[Ali Pasha assumed the government of Janina in 1788, but it was not till
December 12, 1803, that the Suliotes, who were betrayed by their leaders,
Botzaris and Koutsonika and others, finally surrendered.—Finlay's History
of Greece, 1877, vi. 45-50.]

20.

Monastic Zitza! etc.
Stanza xlviii. line 1.

The convent and village of Zitza are four hours' journey from Joannina,
or Yanina, the capital of the Pachalick. In the valley the river Kalamas (once
the Acheron) flows, and, not far from Zitza, forms a fine cataract. The
situation is perhaps the finest in Greece, though the approach to Delvinachi
and parts of Acarnania and Ætolia may contest the palm. Delphi, Parnassus,
and, in Attica, even Cape Colonna and Port Raphti, are very inferior; as also
every scene in Ionia, or the Troad: I am almost inclined to add the approach
to Constantinople; but, from the different features of the last, a comparison
can hardly be made.

21.

Here dwells the caloyer.
Stanza xlix. line 6.

The Greek monks are so called.

[Caloyer is derived from the late Greek καλόγηρος, "good in old age,"
through the Italian caloieso. Hence the accent on the last syllable.—N. Eng.
Dict.]

22.

ure's volcanic Amphitheatre.

Stanza li. line 2.

The Chimariot mountains appear to have been volcanic.

[By "Chimæra's Alps" Byron probably meant the Ceraunian Mountains,
which are "woody to the top, but disclose some wide chasms of red rock"
(Travels in Albania, i. 73) to the north of Jannina,—not the Acroceraunian
(Chimariot) Mountains, which run from north to south-west along the coast
of Mysia. "The walls of rock (which do not appear to be volcanic) rise in
tiers on every side, like the seats and walls of an amphitheatre" (H. F.
Tozer). The near distance may have suggested an amphitheatre; but he is
speaking of the panorama which enlarged on his view, and uses the word
not graphically, but metaphorically, of the entire "circle of the hills."]

23.

Behold black Acheron!
Stanza li. line 6.

Now called Kalamas.

24.

In his white capote.
Stanza lii. line 7.

Albanese cloak.

[The capote (feminine of capot, masculine diminutive of cope, cape)
was a long shaggy cloak or overcoat, with a hood, worn by soldiers, etc.—
N. Eng. Dict., art. "Capote."]

25.

Sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit.

Stanza lv. line 1.

Anciently Mount Tomarus.

["Mount Tomerit, or Tomohr," says Mr. Tozer, "lies north-east of
Tepalen, and therefore the sun could not set behind it" (Childe Harold,
1885, p. 272). But, writing to Drury, May 3, 1810, Byron says that "he
penetrated as far as Mount Tomarit." Probably by "Tomarit" he does not
mean Mount Tomohr, which lies to the north-east of Berat, but Mount
Olytsika, ancient Tomaros (vide ante, p. 132, note 1), which lies to the west
of Janina, between the valley of Tcharacovista and the sea. "Elle domine,"
writes M. Carapanos, "toutes les autres montagnes qui l'entourent." "Laos,"
Mr. Tozer thinks, "is a mere blunder for Aöus, the Viosa (or Voioussa),
which joins the Derapuli a few miles south of Tepaleni, and flows under the
walls of the city" (Dodone et ses Ruines, 1878, p. 8). (For the Aöus and
approach to Tepeleni, see Travels in Albania, i. 91.)]

26.

d Laos wide and fierce came roaring by.
Stanza lv. line 2.

The river Laos was full at the time the author passed it; and, immediately
above Tepaleen, was to the eye as wide as the Thames at Westminster; at
least in the opinion of the author and his fellow-traveller. In the summer it
must be much narrower. It certainly is the finest river in the Levant; neither
Achelous, Alpheus, Acheron, Scamander, nor Cayster, approached it in
breadth or beauty.

27.

d fellow-countrymen have stood aloof.
Stanza lxvi. line 8.

Alluding to the wreckers of Cornwall.

28.

The red wine circling fast.
Stanza lxxi. line 2.

The Albanian Mussulmans do not abstain from wine, and, indeed, very
few of the others.

29.

h Palikar his sabre from him cast.
Stanza lxxi. line 7.

Palikar, shortened when addressed to a single person, from Παλικαρι
[παλληκάρι], a general name for a soldier amongst the Greeks and
Albanese, who speak Romaic: it means, properly, "a lad."

30.

While thus in concert, etc.
Stanza lxxii. line 9.

As a specimen of the Albanian or Arnaout dialect of the Illyric, I here
insert two of their most popular choral songs, which are generally chanted
in dancing by men or women indiscriminately. The first words are merely a
kind of chorus without meaning, like some in our own and all other
languages.

Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, 1. Lo, Lo, I come, I come;
Naciarura, popuso. be thou silent.

Naciarura na civin 2. I come, I run; open the
Ha pen derini ti hin. door that I may enter.

Ha pe uderi escrotini 3. Open the door by halves,

Ti vin ti mar servetini. that I may take my turban.

Caliriote me surme 4. Caliriotes[A] with the dark
a ha pe pse dua tive. eyes, open the gate that
I may enter.

Buo, Bo, Bo, Bo, Bo, 5. Lo, Lo, I hear thee, my soul.
Gi egem spirta esimiro.

Caliriote vu le funde 6. An Arnaout girl, in costly
de vete tunde tunde. garb, walks with graceful pride.

Caliriote me surme 7. Caliriot maid of the dark
Ti mi put e poi mi le. eyes, give me a kiss.

e ti puta citi mora 8. If I have kissed thee,
i mi ri ni veti udo gia. what hast thou gained?
My soul is consumed with fire.

Va le ni il che cadale 9. Dance lightly, more
Celo more, more celo. gently, and gently still.

Plu hari ti tirete 10. Make not so much dust
Plu huron cia pra seti. to destroy your embroidered hose.

[A] The Albanese, particularly the women, are frequently termed
"Caliriotes," for what reason I inquired in vain.

The last stanza would puzzle a commentator: the men have certainly
buskins of the most beautiful texture, but the ladies (to whom the above is
supposed to be addressed) have nothing under their little yellow boots and
slippers but a well-turned and sometimes very white ankle. The Arnaout
girls are much handsomer than the Greeks, and their dress is far more
picturesque. They preserve their shape much longer also, from being always

in the open air. It is to be observed, that the Arnaout is not a written
language: the words of this song, therefore, as well as the one which
follows, are spelt according to their pronunciation. They are copied by one
who speaks and understands the dialect perfectly, and who is a native of
Athens.

Ndi sefda tinde ulavossa 1. I am wounded by thy
Vettimi upri vi lofsa. love, and have loved
but to scorch myself.

Ah vaisisso mi privi lofse 2. Thou hast consumed me!
Si mi rini mi la vosse. Ah, maid! thou hast
struck me to the heart.

Uti tasa roba stua 3. I have said I wish no
Sitti eve tulati dua. dowry, but thine eyes
and eyelashes.

Roba stinori ssidua 4. The accursed dowry I
Qu mi sini vetti dua. want not, but thee only.

Qurmini dua civileni 5. Give me thy charms, and
Roba ti siarmi tildi eni. let the portion feed the flames.

Utara pisa vaisisso me 6. I have loved thee, maid,
simi rin ti hapti with a sincere soul, but
ti mi bire a piste si gui thou hast left me like
dendroi tiltati. a withered tree.

Udi vura udorini udiri 7. If I have placed my hand
cicova cilti mora on thy bosom, what
Udorini talti hollna u ede have I gained? my
caimoni mora. hand is withdrawn, but
retains the flame.

I believe the two last stanzas, as they are in a different measure, ought to
belong to another ballad. An idea something similar to the thought in the
last lines was expressed by Socrates, whose arm having come in contact
with one of his "ὑpokolpioi," Critobulus or Cleobulus, the philosopher
complained of a shooting pain as far as his shoulder for some days after,
and therefore very properly resolved to teach his disciples in future without
touching them.

31.

mbourgi! Tambourgi! thy 'larum afar.
Song, stanza 1, line 1.

These stanzas are partly taken from different Albanese songs, as far as I
was able to make them out by the exposition of the Albanese in Romaic and
Italian.

32.

member the moment when Previsa fell.
Song, stanza 8, line 1.

It was taken by storm from the French [October, 1798].

33.

Greece! sad relic of departed Worth! etc.
Stanza lxxiii. line 1.

Some thoughts on this subject will be found in the subjoined papers, pp.
187-208.

34.

it of Freedom! when on Phyle's brow
hou sat'st with Thrasybulus and his train.
Stanza lxxiv. lines 1 and 2.

Phyle, which commands a beautiful view of Athens, has still
considerable remains: it was seized by Thrasybulus, previous to the
expulsion of the Thirty.

[Byron and Hobhouse caught their first glance of Athens from this spot,
December 25, 1809. (See Byron's note.) "The ruins," says Hobhouse, "are

now called Bigla Castro, or The Watchtower."]

35.

eive the fiery Frank, her former guest.
Stanza lxxvii. line 4.

When taken by the Latins, and retained for several years. See Gibbon.
[From A.D. 1204 to 1261.]

36.

Prophet's tomb of all its pious spoil.
Stanza lxxvii. line 6.

Mecca and Medina were taken some time ago by the Wahabees, a sect
yearly increasing. [Vide supra, p. 151.]

37.

vales of evergreen, thy hills of snow.
Stanza lxxxv. line 3.

On many of the mountains, particularly Liakura, the snow never is
entirely melted, notwithstanding the intense heat of the summer; but I never
saw it lie on the plains, even in winter.

[This feature of Greek scenery, in spring, may, now and again, be
witnessed in our own country in autumn—a blue lake, bordered with
summer greenery in the foreground, with a rear-guard of "hills of snow"
glittering in the October sunshine.]

38.

e where some solitary column mourns

Above its prostrate brethren of the cave.
Stanza lxxxvi. lines 1 and 2.

Of Mount Pentelicus, from whence the marble was dug that constructed
the public edifices of Athens. The modern name is Mount Mendeli. An
immense cave, formed by the quarries, still remains, and will till the end of
time.

[Mendeli is the ancient Pentelicus. "The white lines marking the
projecting veins" of marble are visible from Athens (Geography of Greece,
by H.F. Tozer, 1873, p. 129).]

39.

en Marathon became a magic word.
Stanza lxxxix. line 7.

"Siste Viator—heroa calcas!" was the epitaph on the famous Count
Merci;[221]—what then must be our feelings when standing on the tumulus
of the two hundred (Greeks) who fell on Marathon? The principal barrow
has recently been opened by Fauvel: few or no relics, as vases, etc. were
found by the excavator. The plain of Marathon[222] was offered to me for
sale at the sum of sixteen thousand piastres, about nine hundred pounds!
Alas!—"Expende[223]—quot libras in duce summo—invenies!"—was the
dust of Miltiades worth no more? It could scarcely have fetched less if sold
by weight.

P apers R eferred to by N ote 33.

I.[224]

Before I say anything about a city of which every body, traveller or not,
has thought it necessary to say something, I will request Miss Owenson,[225]

when she next borrows an Athenian heroine for her four volumes, to have
the goodness to marry her to somebody more of a gentleman than a "Disdar
Aga" (who by the by is not an Aga), the most impolite of petty officers, the
greatest patron of larceny[226] Athens ever saw (except Lord E.), and the
unworthy occupant of the Acropolis, on a handsome annual stipend of 150
piastres (eight pounds sterling), out of which he has only to pay his
garrison, the most ill-regulated corps in the ill-regulated Ottoman Empire. I
speak it tenderly, seeing I was once the cause of the husband of "Ida of
Athens" nearly suffering the bastinado; and because the said "Disdar" is a
turbulent husband, and beats his wife; so that I exhort and beseech Miss
Owenson to sue for a separate maintenance in behalf of "Ida." Having
premised thus much, on a matter of such import to the readers of romances,
I may now leave Ida to mention her birthplace.

Setting aside the magic of the name, and all those associations which it
would be pedantic and superfluous to recapitulate, the very situation of
Athens would render it the favourite of all who have eyes for art or nature.
The climate, to me at least, appeared a perpetual spring; during eight
months I never passed a day without being as many hours on horseback:
rain is extremely rare, snow never lies in the plains, and a cloudy day is an
agreeable rarity. In Spain, Portugal, and every part of the East which I
visited, except Ionia and Attica, I perceived no such superiority of climate
to our own; and at Constantinople, where I passed May, June, and part of
July (1810), you might "damn the climate, and complain of spleen," five
days out of seven.[227]

The air of the Morea is heavy and unwholesome, but the moment you
pass the isthmus in the direction of Megara the change is strikingly
perceptible. But I fear Hesiod will still be found correct in his description of
a Boeotian winter.[228]

We found at Livadia an "esprit fort" in a Greek bishop, of all free-
thinkers! This worthy hypocrite rallied his own religion with great

intrepidity (but not before his flock), and talked of a mass as a
"coglioneria."[229] It was impossible to think better of him for this; but, for a
Boeotian, he was brisk with all his absurdity. This phenomenon (with the
exception indeed of Thebes, the remains of Chæronea, the plain of Platea,
Orchomenus, Livadia, and its nominal cave of Trophonius) was the only
remarkable thing we saw before we passed Mount Cithæron.

The fountain of Dirce turns a mill: at least my companion (who,
resolving to be at once cleanly and classical, bathed in it) pronounced it to
be the fountain of Dirce,[230] and any body who thinks it worth while may
contradict him. At Castri we drank of half a dozen streamlets, some not of
the purest, before we decided to our satisfaction which was the true
Castalian, and even that had a villanous twang, probably from the snow,
though it did not throw us into an epic fever, like poor Dr. Chandler.[231]

From Fort Phyle, of which large remains still exist, the plain of Athens,
Pentelicus, Hymettus, the Ægean, and the Acropolis, burst upon the eye at
once; in my opinion, a more glorious prospect than even Cintra or Istambol.
Not the view from the Troad, with Ida, the Hellespont, and the more distant
Mount Athos, can equal it, though so superior in extent.

I heard much of the beauty of Arcadia, but excepting the view from the
Monastery of Megaspelion (which is inferior to Zitza in a command of
country), and the descent from the mountains on the way from Tripolitza to
Argos, Arcadia has little to recommend it beyond the name.

rnitur, et dulces moriens reminiscitur Argos."

Æneid, x. 782.

Virgil could have put this into the mouth of none but an Argive, and
(with reverence be it spoken) it does not deserve the epithet. And if the
Polynices of Statius, "In mediis audit duo litora campis" (Thebaidos, i.

335), did actually hear both shores in crossing the isthmus of Corinth, he
had better ears than have ever been worn in such a journey since.

"Athens," says a celebrated topographer, "is still the most polished city
of Greece."[232] Perhaps it may of Greece, but not of the Greeks; for
Joannina in Epirus is universally allowed, amongst themselves, to be
superior in the wealth, refinement, learning, and dialect of its inhabitants.
The Athenians are remarkable for their cunning; and the lower orders are
not improperly characterised in that proverb, which classes them with the
"Jews of Salonica, and the Turks of the Negropont."

Among the various foreigners resident in Athens, French, Italians,
Germans, Ragusans, etc., there was never a difference of opinion in their
estimate of the Greek character, though on all other topics they disputed
with great acrimony.

M. Fauvel, the French Consul, who has passed thirty years principally at
Athens, and to whose talents as an artist, and manners as a gentleman, none
who have known him can refuse their testimony, has frequently declared in
my hearing, that the Greeks do not deserve to be emancipated; reasoning on
the grounds of their "national and individual depravity!" while he forgot
that such depravity is to be attributed to causes which can only be removed
by the measure he reprobates.

M. Roque,[233] a French merchant of respectability long settled in Athens,
asserted with the most amusing gravity, "Sir, they are the same canaille that
existed in the days of Themistocles!" an alarming remark to the "Laudator
temporis acti." The ancients banished Themistocles; the moderns cheat
Monsieur Roque; thus great men have ever been treated!

In short, all the Franks who are fixtures, and most of the Englishmen,
Germans, Danes, etc., of passage, came over by degrees to their opinion, on
much the same grounds that a Turk in England would condemn the nation

by wholesale, because he was wronged by his lacquey, and overcharged by
his washerwoman.

Certainly it was not a little staggering when the Sieurs Fauvel and
Lusieri, the two greatest demagogues of the day, who divide between them
the power of Pericles and the popularity of Cleon, and puzzle the poor
Waywode with perpetual differences, agreed in the utter condemnation,
"nulla virtute redemptum" (Juvenal, lib. i. Sat. iv. line 2), of the Greeks in
general, and of the Athenians in particular. For my own humble opinion, I
am loth to hazard it, knowing as I do, that there be now in MS. no less than
five tours of the first magnitude, and of the most threatening aspect, all in
typographical array, by persons of wit and honour, and regular common-
place books: but, if I may say this, without offence, it seems to me rather
hard to declare so positively and pertinaciously, as almost everybody has
declared, that the Greeks, because they are very bad, will never be better.

Eton and Sonnini[234] have led us astray by their panegyrics and projects;
but, on the other hand, De Pauw and Thornton[235] have debased the Greeks
beyond their demerits.

The Greeks will never be independent; they will never be sovereigns as
heretofore, and God forbid they ever should! but they may be subjects
without being slaves. Our colonies are not independent, but they are free
and industrious, and such may Greece be hereafter.

At present, like the Catholics of Ireland and the Jews throughout the
world, and such other cudgelled and heterodox people, they suffer all the
moral and physical ills that can afflict humanity. Their life is a struggle
against truth; they are vicious in their own defence. They are so unused to
kindness, that when they occasionally meet with it they look upon it with
suspicion, as a dog often beaten snaps at your fingers if you attempt to
caress him. "They are ungrateful, notoriously, abominably ungrateful!"—
this is the general cry. Now, in the name of Nemesis! for what are they to be

grateful? Where is the human being that ever conferred a benefit on Greek
or Greeks? They are to be grateful to the Turks for their fetters, and to the
Franks for their broken promises and lying counsels. They are to be grateful
to the artist who engraves their ruins, and to the antiquary who carries them
away; to the traveller whose janissary flogs them, and to the scribbler
whose journal abuses them. This is the amount of their obligations to
foreigners.

II.

F ranciscan C onvent , A thens , January 23, 1811.[236]

Amongst the remnants of the barbarous policy of the earlier ages, are the
traces of bondage which yet exist in different countries; whose inhabitants,
however divided in religion and manners, almost all agree in oppression.

The English have at last compassionated their negroes, and under a less
bigoted government, may probably one day release their Catholic brethren;
but the interposition of foreigners alone can emancipate the Greeks, who,
otherwise, appear to have as small a chance of redemption from the Turks,
as the Jews have from mankind in general.

Of the ancient Greeks we know more than enough; at least the younger
men of Europe devote much of their time to the study of the Greek writers
and history, which would be more usefully spent in mastering their own. Of
the moderns, we are perhaps more neglectful than they deserve; and while
every man of any pretensions to learning is tiring out his youth, and often
his age, in the study of the language and of the harangues of the Athenian
demagogues in favour of freedom, the real or supposed descendants of
these sturdy republicans are left to the actual tyranny of their masters,
although a very slight effort is required to strike off their chains.

To talk, as the Greeks themselves do, of their rising again to their
pristine superiority, would be ridiculous: as the rest of the world must

resume its barbarism, after reasserting the sovereignty of Greece: but there
seems to be no very great obstacle, except in the apathy of the Franks, to
their becoming an useful dependency, or even a free state, with a proper
guarantee;—under correction, however, be it spoken, for many and well-
informed men doubt the practicability even of this.

The Greeks have never lost their hope, though they are now more
divided in opinion on the subject of their probable deliverers. Religion
recommends the Russians; but they have twice been deceived and
abandoned by that power, and the dreadful lesson they received after the
Muscovite desertion in the Morea has never been forgotten. The French
they dislike; although the subjugation of the rest of Europe will, probably,
be attended by the deliverance of continental Greece. The islanders look to
the English for succour, as they have very lately possessed themselves of
the Ionian republic, Corfu excepted.[237] But whoever appear with arms in
their hands will be welcome; and when that day arrives, Heaven have mercy
on the Ottomans; they cannot expect it from the Giaours.

But instead of considering what they have been, and speculating on what
they may be, let us look at them as they are.

And here it is impossible to reconcile the contrariety of opinions: some,
particularly the merchants, decrying the Greeks in the strongest language;
others, generally travellers, turning periods in their eulogy, and publishing
very curious speculations grafted on their former state, which can have no
more effect on their present lot, than the existence of the Incas on the future
fortunes of Peru.

One very ingenious person terms them the "natural allies of
Englishmen;" another no less ingenious, will not allow them to be the allies
of anybody, and denies their very descent from the ancients; a third, more
ingenious than either, builds a Greek empire on a Russian foundation, and
realises (on paper) all the chimeras of Catharine II. As to the question of

their descent, what can it import whether the Mainotes[238] are the lineal
Laconians or not? or the present Athenians as indigenous as the bees of
Hymettus, or as the grasshoppers, to which they once likened themselves?
What Englishman cares if he be of a Danish, Saxon, Norman, or Trojan
blood? or who, except a Welshman, is afflicted with a desire of being
descended from Caractacus?

The poor Greeks do not so much abound in the good things of this
world, as to render even their claims to antiquity an object of envy; it is
very cruel, then, in Mr. Thornton to disturb them in the possession of all
that time has left them; viz. their pedigree, of which they are the more
tenacious, as it is all they can call their own. It would be worth while to
publish together, and compare, the works of Messrs. Thornton and De
Pauw, Eton and Sonnini; paradox on one side, and prejudice on the other.
Mr. Thornton conceives himself to have claims to public confidence from a
fourteen years' residence at Pera; perhaps he may on the subject of the
Turks, but this can give him no more insight into the real state of Greece
and her inhabitants, than as many years spent in Wapping into that of the
Western Highlands.

The Greeks of Constantinople live in Fanal;[239] and if Mr. Thornton did
not oftener cross the Golden Horn than his brother merchants are
accustomed to do, I should place no great reliance on his information. I
actually heard one of these gentlemen boast of their little general
intercourse with the city, and assert of himself, with an air of triumph, that
he had been but four times at Constantinople in as many years.

As to Mr. Thornton's voyages in the Black Sea with Greek vessels, they
gave him the same idea of Greece as a cruise to Berwick in a Scotch smack
would of Johnny Groat's house. Upon what grounds then does he arrogate
the right of condemning by wholesale a body of men of whom he can know
little? It is rather a curious circumstance that Mr. Thornton, who so lavishly
dispraises Pouqueville on every occasion of mentioning the Turks, has yet

recourse to him as authority on the Greeks, and terms him an impartial
observer. Now, Dr. Pouqueville is as little entitled to that appellation as Mr.
Thornton to confer it on him.

The fact is, we are deplorably in want of information on the subject of
the Greeks, and in particular their literature; nor is there any probability of
our being better acquainted, till our intercourse becomes more intimate, or
their independence confirmed. The relations of passing travellers are as
little to be depended on as the invectives of angry factors; but till something
more can be attained, we must be content with the little to be acquired from
similar sources.[240]

However defective these may be, they are preferable to the parodoxes of
men who have read superficially of the ancients, and seen nothing of the
moderns, such as De Pauw; who, when he asserts that the British breed of
horses is ruined by Newmarket, and that the Spartans[241] were cowards in
the field,[242] betrays an equal knowledge of English horses and Spartan
men. His "philosophical observations" have a much better claim to the title
of "poetical." It could not be expected that he who so liberally condemns
some of the most celebrated institutions of the ancient, should have mercy
on the modern Greeks; and it fortunately happens, that the absurdity of his
hypothesis on their forefathers refutes his sentence on themselves.

Let us trust, then, that, in spite of the prophecies of De Pauw, and the
doubts of Mr. Thornton, there is a reasonable hope of the redemption of a
race of men, who, whatever may be the errors of their religion and policy,
have been amply punished by three centuries and a half of captivity.

III.[243]

A thens , F ranciscan C onvent , March 17, 1811.

must have some talk with this learned Theban."[244]

Some time after my return from Constantinople to this city I received the
thirty-first number of the Edinburgh Review[245] as a great favour, and
certainly at this distance an acceptable one, from the captain of an English
frigate off Salamis. In that number, Art. 3, containing the review of a French
translation of Strabo,[246] there are introduced some remarks on the modern
Greeks and their literature, with a short account of Coray, a co-translator in
the French version. On those remarks I mean to ground a few observations;
and the spot where I now write will, I hope, be sufficient excuse for
introducing them in a work in some degree connected with the subject.
Coray, the most celebrated of living Greeks, at least among the Franks, was
born at Scio (in the Review, Smyrna is stated, I have reason to think,
incorrectly), and besides the translation of Beccaria and other works
mentioned by the Reviewer, has published a lexicon in Romaic and French,
if I may trust the assurance of some Danish travellers lately arrived from
Paris; but the latest we have seen here in French and Greek is that of
Gregory Zolikogloou.[247] Coray has recently been involved in an unpleasant
controversy with M. Gail,[248] a Parisian commentator and editor of some
translations from the Greek poets, in consequence of the Institute having
awarded him the prize for his version of Hippocrates' "Περὶ ὑδάτων," etc.,
to the disparagement, and consequently displeasure, of the said Gail. To his
exertions, literary and patriotic, great praise is undoubtedly due; but a part
of that praise ought not to be withheld from the two brothers Zosimado
(merchants settled in Leghorn), who sent him to Paris and maintained him,
for the express purpose of elucidating the ancient, and adding to the
modern, researches of his countrymen. Coray, however, is not considered
by his countrymen equal to some who lived in the two last centuries; more
particularly Dorotheus of Mitylene,[249] whose Hellenic writings are so much
esteemed by the Greeks, that Meletius[250] terms him "Μετὰ τὸν Θουκυδίδην
καὶ Ξενοφώντα ἄριστος Ἑλλήνων" (p. 224, Ecclesiastical History, iv.).

Panagiotes Kodrikas, the translator of Fontenelle, and Kamarases,[251]
who translated Ocellus Lucanus on the Universe into French,
Christodoulus,[252] and more particularly Psalida,[253] whom I have conversed
with in Joannina, are also in high repute among their literati. The last-
mentioned has published in Romaic and Latin a work on True Happiness,
dedicated to Catherine II. But Polyzois,[254] who is stated by the Reviewer to
be the only modern except Coray who has distinguished himself by a
knowledge of Hellenic, if he be the Polyzois Lampanitziotes of Yanina, who
has published a number of editions in Romaic, was neither more nor less
than an itinerant vender of books; with the contents of which he had no
concern beyond his name on the title page, placed there to secure his
property in the publication; and he was, moreover, a man utterly destitute of
scholastic acquirements. As the name, however, is not uncommon, some
other Polyzois may have edited the Epistles of Aristænetus.

It is to be regretted that the system of continental blockade has closed
the few channels through which the Greeks received their publications,
particularly Venice and Trieste. Even the common grammars for children
are become too dear for the lower orders. Amongst their original works the
Geography of Meletius, Archbishop of Athens, and a multitude of
theological quartos and poetical pamphlets, are to be met with; their
grammars and lexicons of two, three, and four languages are numerous and
excellent. Their poetry is in rhyme. The most singular piece I have lately
seen is a satire in dialogue between a Russian, English, and French traveller,
and the Waywode of Wallachia (or Blackbey, as they term him), an
archbishop, a merchant,[255] and Cogia Bachi (or primate), in succession; to
all of whom under the Turks the writer attributes their present degeneracy.
Their songs are sometimes pretty and pathetic, but their tunes generally
unpleasing to the ear of a Frank; the best is the famous "Δεύτε, παῖδες τῶν
Ἑλλήνων," by the unfortunate Riga.[256] But from a catalogue of more than
sixty authors, now before me, only fifteen can be found who have touched
on any theme except theology.

I am intrusted with a commission by a Greek of Athens named
Marmarotouri to make arrangements, if possible, for printing in London a
translation of Barthelemi's Anacharsis in Romaic, as he has no other
opportunity, unless he dispatches the MS. to Vienna by the Black Sea and
Danube.

The Reviewer mentions a school established at Hecatonesi,[257] and
suppressed at the instigation of Sebastiani:[258] he means Cidonies, or, in
Turkish, Haivali; a town on the continent, where that institution for a
hundred students and three professors still exists. It is true that this
establishment was disturbed by the Porte, under the ridiculous pretext that
the Greeks were constructing a fortress instead of a college; but on
investigation, and the payment of some purses to the Divan, it has been
permitted to continue. The principal professor, named Ueniamin (i.e.
Benjamin), is stated to be a man of talent, but a freethinker. He was born in
Lesbos, studied in Italy, and is master of Hellenic, Latin, and some Frank
languages: besides a smattering of the sciences.

Though it is not my intention to enter farther on this topic than may
allude to the article in question, I cannot but observe that the Reviewer's
lamentation over the fall of the Greeks appears singular, when he closes it
with these words: "The change is to be attributed to their misfortunes rather
than to any 'physical degradation.'" It may be true that the Greeks are not
physically degenerated, and that Constantinople contained on the day when
it changed masters as many men of six feet and upwards as in the hour of
prosperity; but ancient history and modern politics instruct us that
something more than physical perfection is necessary to preserve a state in
vigour and independence; and the Greeks, in particular, are a melancholy
example of the near connexion between moral degradation and national
decay.

The Reviewer mentions a plan "we believe" by Potemkin[259] for the
purification of the Romaic; and I have endeavoured in vain to procure any

tidings or traces of its existence. There was an academy in St. Petersburg
for the Greeks; but it was suppressed by Paul, and has not been revived by
his successor.

There is a slip of the pen, and it can only be a slip of the pen, in p. 58,
No. 31, of the Edinburgh Review, where these words occur: "We are told
that when the capital of the East yielded to Solyman"—It may be presumed
that this last word will, in a future edition, be altered to Mahomet II.[260] The
"ladies of Constantinople," it seems, at that period spoke a dialect, "which
would not have disgraced the lips of an Athenian." I do not know how that
might be, but am sorry to say that the ladies in general, and the Athenians in
particular, are much altered; being far from choice either in their dialect or
expressions, as the whole Attic race are barbarous to a proverb:—

Ἀθῆναι, πρώτη χώρα,
αιδάρους τρέφεις τώρα;"[261]

In Gibbon, vol. x. p. 161, is the following sentence:—"The vulgar
dialect of the city was gross and barbarous, though the compositions of the
church and palace sometimes affected to copy the purity of the Attic
models." Whatever may be asserted on the subject, it is difficult to conceive
that the "ladies of Constantinople," in the reign of the last Cæsar, spoke a
purer dialect than Anna Comnena[262] wrote, three centuries before: and
those royal pages are not esteemed the best models of composition,
although the princess γλῶτταν εἶχεν ἈΚΡΙΒΩΕ Ἀττικιϛούσαν.[263] In the
Fanal, and in Yanina, the best Greek is spoken: in the latter there is a
flourishing school under the direction of Psalida.

There is now in Athens a pupil of Psalida's, who is making a tour of
observation through Greece: he is intelligent, and better educated than a
fellow-commoner of most colleges. I mention this as a proof that the spirit
of inquiry is not dormant among the Greeks.

The Reviewer mentions Mr. Wright,[264] the author of the beautiful poem
Horæ Ionicæ, as qualified to give details of these nominal Romans and
degenerate Greeks; and also of their language: but Mr. Wright, though a
good poet and an able man, has made a mistake where he states the
Albanian dialect of the Romaic to approximate nearest to the Hellenic; for
the Albanians speak a Romaic as notoriously corrupt as the Scotch of
Aberdeenshire, or the Italian of Naples. Yanina, (where, next to the Fanal,
the Greek is purest,) although the capital of Ali Pacha's dominions, is not in
Albania, but Epirus; and beyond Delvinachi in Albania Proper up to
Argyrocastro and Tepaleen (beyond which I did not advance) they speak
worse Greek than even the Athenians. I was attended for a year and a half
by two of these singular mountaineers, whose mother tongue is Illyric, and I
never heard them or their countrymen (whom I have seen, not only at home,
but to the amount of twenty thousand in the army of Vely Pacha[265]) praised
for their Greek, but often laughed at for their provincial barbarisms.

I have in my possession about twenty-five letters, amongst which some
from the Bey of Corinth, written to me by Notaras, the Cogia Bachi, and
others by the dragoman of the Caimacam[266] of the Morea (which last
governs in Vely Pacha's absence), are said to be favourable specimens of
their epistolary style. I also received some at Constantinople from private
persons, written in a most hyperbolical style, but in the true antique
character.

The Reviewer proceeds, after some remarks on the tongue in its past and
present state, to a paradox (page 59) on the great mischief the knowledge of
his own language has done to Coray, who, it seems, is less likely to
understand the ancient Greek, because he is perfect master of the modern!
This observation follows a paragraph, recommending, in explicit terms, the
study of the Romaic, as "a powerful auxiliary," not only to the traveller and
foreign merchant, but also to the classical scholar; in short, to every body
except the only person who can be thoroughly acquainted with its uses; and

by a parity of reasoning, our own language is conjectured to be probably
more attainable by "foreigners" than by ourselves! Now, I am inclined to
think, that a Dutch Tyro in our tongue (albeit himself of Saxon blood)
would be sadly perplexed with "Sir Tristram,"[267] or any other given
"Auchinleck MS." with or without a grammar or glossary; and to most
apprehensions it seems evident that none but a native can acquire a
competent, far less complete, knowledge of our obsolete idioms. We may
give the critic credit for his ingenuity, but no more believe him than we do
Smollett's Lismahago,[268] who maintains that the purest English is spoken in
Edinburgh. That Coray may err is very possible; but if he does, the fault is
in the man rather than in his mother tongue, which is, as it ought to be, of
the greatest aid to the native student.—Here the Reviewer proceeds to
business on Strabo's translators, and here I close my remarks.

Sir W. Drummond, Mr. Hamilton, Lord Aberdeen, Dr. Clarke, Captain
Leake, Mr. Gell, Mr. Walpole,[269] and many others now in England, have all
the requisites to furnish details of this fallen people. The few observations I
have offered I should have left where I made them, had not the article in
question, and above all the spot where I read it, induced me to advert to
those pages, which the advantage of my present situation enabled me to
clear, or at least to make the attempt.

I have endeavoured to waive the personal feelings which rise in despite
of me in touching upon any part of the Edinburgh Review; not from a wish
to conciliate the favour of its writers, or to cancel the remembrance of a
syllable I have formerly published, but simply from a sense of the
impropriety of mixing up private resentments with a disquisition of the
present kind, and more particularly at this distance of time and place.

A dditional N ote on the T urks .

The difficulties of travelling in Turkey have been much exaggerated, or
rather have considerably diminished, of late years. The Mussulmans have
been beaten into a kind of sullen civility very comfortable to voyagers.

It is hazardous to say much on the subject of Turks and Turkey; since it
is possible to live amongst them twenty years without acquiring
information, at least from themselves. As far as my own slight experience
carried me, I have no complaint to make; but am indebted for many
civilities (I might almost say for friendship), and much hospitality, to Ali
Pacha, his son Vely Pacha of the Morea, and several others of high rank in
the provinces. Suleyman Aga, late Governor of Athens, and now of Thebes,
was a bon vivant, and as social a being as ever sat cross-legged at a tray or a
table. During the carnival, when our English party were masquerading, both
himself and his successor were more happy to "receive masks" than any
dowager in Grosvenor-square.[270]

On one occasion of his supping at the convent, his friend and visitor, the
Cadi[271] of Thebes, was carried from table perfectly qualified for any club
in Christendom; while the worthy Waywode himself triumphed in his fall.

In all money transactions with the Moslems, I ever found the strictest
honour, the highest disinterestedness. In transacting business with them,
there are none of those dirty peculations, under the name of interest,
difference of exchange, commission, etc., etc., uniformly found in applying
to a Greek consul to cash bills, even on the first houses in Pera.

With regard to presents, an established custom in the East, you will
rarely find yourself a loser; as one worth acceptance is generally returned
by another of similar value—a horse, or a shawl.

In the capital and at court the citizens and courtiers are formed in the
same school with those of Christianity; but there does not exist a more
honourable, friendly, and high-spirited character than the true Turkish
provincial Aga, or Moslem country gentleman. It is not meant here to

designate the governors of towns, but those Agas who, by a kind of feudal
tenure, possess lands and houses, of more or less extent, in Greece and Asia
Minor.

The lower orders are in as tolerable discipline as the rabble in countries
with greater pretensions to civilisation. A Moslem, in walking the streets of
our country-towns, would be more incommoded in England than a Frank in
a similar situation in Turkey. Regimentals are the best travelling dress.

The best accounts of the religion and different sects of Islamism may be
found in D'Ohsson's[272] French; of their manners, etc., perhaps in Thornton's
English. The Ottomans, with all their defects, are not a people to be
despised. Equal at least to the Spaniards, they are superior to the
Portuguese. If it be difficult to pronounce what they are, we can at least say
what they are not: they are not treacherous, they are not cowardly, they do
not burn heretics, they are not assassins, nor has an enemy advanced to their
capital. They are faithful to their sultan till he becomes unfit to govern, and
devout to their God without an inquisition. Were they driven from St.
Sophia to-morrow, and the French or Russians enthroned in their stead, it
would become a question whether Europe would gain by the exchange.
England would certainly be the loser.

With regard to that ignorance of which they are so generally, and
sometimes justly accused, it may be doubted, always excepting France and
England, in what useful points of knowledge they are excelled by other
nations. Is it in the common arts of life? In their manufactures? Is a Turkish
sabre inferior to a Toledo? or is a Turk worse clothed or lodged, or fed and
taught, than a Spaniard? Are their Pachas worse educated than a Grandee?
or an Effendi[273] than a Knight of St. Jago? I think not.

I remember Mahmout, the grandson of Ali Pacha, asking whether my
fellow-traveller and myself were in the upper or lower House of Parliament.
Now, this question from a boy of ten years old proved that his education

had not been neglected. It may be doubted if an English boy at that age
knows the difference of the Divan from a College of Dervises; but I am
very sure a Spaniard does not. How little Mahmout, surrounded as he had
been entirely by his Turkish tutors, had learned that there was such a thing
as a Parliament, it were useless to conjecture, unless we suppose that his
instructors did not confine his studies to the Koran.

In all the mosques there are schools established, which are very regularly
attended; and the poor are taught without the church of Turkey being put
into peril. I believe the system is not yet printed (though there is such a
thing as a Turkish press, and books printed on the late military institution of
the Nizam Gedidd);[274] nor have I heard whether the Mufti and the Mollas
have subscribed, or the Caimacan and the Tefterdar taken the alarm, for fear
the ingenuous youth of the turban should be taught not to "pray to God their
way." The Greeks also—a kind of Eastern Irish papists—have a college of
their own at Maynooth,—no, at Haivali; where the heterodox receive much
the same kind of countenance from the Ottoman as the Catholic college
from the English legislature. Who shall then affirm that the Turks are
ignorant bigots, when they thus evince the exact proportion of Christian
charity which is tolerated in the most prosperous and orthodox of all
possible kingdoms? But though they allow all this, they will not suffer the
Greeks to participate in their privileges: no, let them fight their battles, and
pay their haratch (taxes), be drubbed in this world, and damned in the next.
And shall we then emancipate our Irish Helots? Mahomet forbid! We
should then be bad Mussulmans, and worse Christians: at present we unite
the best of both—jesuitical faith, and something not much inferior to
Turkish toleration.

A ppendix .

Amongst an enslaved people, obliged to have recourse to foreign presses
even for their books of religion, it is less to be wondered at that we find so
few publications on general subjects than that we find any at all. The whole
number of the Greeks, scattered up and down the Turkish empire and
elsewhere, may amount, at most, to three millions; and yet, for so scanty a
number, it is impossible to discover any nation with so great a proportion of
books and their authors as the Greeks of the present century. "Aye," but say
the generous advocates of oppression, who, while they assert the ignorance
of the Greeks, wish to prevent them from dispelling it, "ay, but these are
mostly, if not all, ecclesiastical tracts, and consequently good for nothing."
Well! and pray what else can they write about? It is pleasant enough to hear
a Frank, particularly an Englishman, who may abuse the government of his
own country; or a Frenchman, who may abuse every government except his
own, and who may range at will over every philosophical, religious,
scientific, sceptical, or moral subject, sneering at the Greek legends. A
Greek must not write on politics, and cannot touch on science for want of
instruction; if he doubts he is excommunicated and damned; therefore his
countrymen are not poisoned with modern philosophy; and as to morals,
thanks to the Turks! there are no such things. What then is left him, if he has
a turn for scribbling? Religion and holy biography; and it is natural enough
that those who have so little in this life should look to the next. It is no great
wonder then, that in a catalogue now before me of fifty-five Greek writers,
many of whom were lately living, not above fifteen should have touched on
anything but religion. The catalogue alluded to is contained in the twenty-
sixth chapter of the fourth volume of Meletius' Ecclesiastical History.

[The above forms a preface to an Appendix, headed "Remarks on the
Romaic or Modern Greek Language, with Specimens and Translations,"
which was printed at the end of the volume, after the "Poems," in the first
and successive editions of Childe Harold. It contains (1) a "List of Romaic
Authors;" (2) the "Greek War-Song," Δεῦτε, Παῖδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων; (3)
"Romaic Extracts," of which the first, "a Satire in dialogue" (vide Note III.

supra), is translated (see Epigrams, etc., vol. vi. of the present issue); (4)
scene from Ο Καφενὲς (the Café), translated from the Italian of Goldoni by
Spiridion Vlanti, with a "Translation;" (5) "Familiar Dialogues" in Romaic
and English; (6) "Parallel Passages from St. John's Gospel;" (7) "The
Inscriptions at Orchomenos from Meletius" (see Travels in Albania, etc., i.
224); (8) the "Prospectus of a Translation of Anacharsis into Romaic, by my
Romaic master, Marmarotouri, who wished to publish it in England;" (9)
"The Lord's Prayer in Romaic" and in Greek.

The Excursus, which is remarkable rather for the evidence which it
affords of Byron's industry and zeal for acquiring knowledge, than for the
value or interest of the subject-matter, has been omitted from the present
issue. The "Remarks," etc., are included in the "Appendix" to Lord Byron's
Poetical Works, 1891, pp. 792-797. (See, too, letter to Dallas, September
21, 1811: Letters, ii. 43.)]

FOOTNOTES:

[202] {166} ["Owls and serpents" are taken from Isa. xiii. 21, 22; "foxes" from Lam. v. 18, "Zion is
desolate, the foxes walk upon it."]

[203] [For Herr Gropius, vide post, note 6.] (see also its footnote—Transcriber)

[204] [The Parthenon was converted into a church in the sixth century by Justinian, and dedicated to
the Divine Wisdom. About 1460 the church was turned into a mosque. After the siege in 1687 the
Turks erected a smaller mosque within the original enclosure. "The only relic of the mosque
dedicated by Mohammed the Conqueror (1430-1481) is the base of the minaret ... at the south-west
corner of the Cella" (Handbook for Greece, p. 319).]

[205] {168} ["Don Battista Lusieri, better known as Don Tita," was born at Naples. He followed Sir
William Hamilton "to Constantinople, in 1799, whence he removed to Athens." "It may be said of
Lusieri, as of Claude Lorraine, 'If he be not the poet, he is the historian of nature.'"—Travels, etc., by
E. D. Clarke, 1810-1823, Part II. sect. ii. p. 469, note. See, too, Poetical Works, 1898, i. 455.]

[206] ["Mirandum in modum (canes venaticos diceres) ita odorabantur omnia et pervestigabant, ut,
ubi quidque esset, aliqua ratione invenirent" (Cicero, In Verrem, Act. II. lib. iv. 13). Verres had two
finders: Tlepolemus a worker in wax, and Hiero a painter. (See Introduction to The Curse of
Minerva: Poems, 1898, i. 455.)]

[207] [M. Fauvel was born in Burgundy, circ. 1754. In 1787 he was attached to the suite of the Count
Choiseul-Gouffier, French Ambassador at Constantinople, and is said to have prepared designs and
illustrations for his patron's Voyage Pittoresque de la Grèce, vol. i. 1787, vol. ii. 1809. He settled at
Athens, and was made vice-consul by the French Government. In his old age, after more than forty
years' service at Athens, he removed finally to Smyrna, where he was appointed consul-general.—
Biographic des Contemporains (Rabbe), 1834, art. "(N.) Fauvel."]

[208] {169} In all Attica, if we except Athens itself and Marathon, there is no scene more interesting
than Cape Colonna.[A] To the antiquary and artist, sixteen columns are an inexhaustible source of
observation and design; to the philosopher, the supposed scene of some of Plato's conversations will
not be unwelcome; and the traveller will be struck with the beauty of the prospect over "Isles that
crown the Ægean deep:" but, for an Englishman, Colonna has yet an additional interest, as the actual
spot of Falconer's[B] shipwreck. Pallas and Plato are forgotten in the recollection of Falconer and
Campbell:—

ere in the dead of night, by Lonna's steep,[C]
e seaman's cry was heard along the deep."

This temple of Minerva may be seen at sea from a great distance. In two journeys which I made, and
one voyage to Cape Colonna, the view from either side, by land, was less striking than the approach
from the isles. In our second land excursion, we had a narrow escape from a party of Mainotes,
concealed in the caverns beneath. We were told afterwards, by one of their prisoners, subsequently
ransomed, that they were deterred from attacking us by the appearance of my two Albanians:
conjecturing very sagaciously, but falsely, that we had a complete guard of these Arnaouts at hand,
they remained stationary, and thus saved our party, which was too small to have opposed any
effectual resistance. Colonna is no less a resort of painters than of pirates; there

he hireling artist plants his paltry desk,
d makes degraded nature picturesque."

See Hodgson's Lady Jane Grey, etc.[D][1809, p. 214].

But there Nature, with the aid of Art, has done that for herself. I was fortunate enough to engage a
very superior German artist; and hope to renew my acquaintance with this and many other Levantine
scenes, by the arrival of his performances.

[A] [This must have taken place in 1811, after Hobhouse returned to England.—Travels in Albania, i.
373, note.]

[B] [William Falconer (1732-1769), second mate of a vessel in the Levant trade, was wrecked
between Alexandria and Venice. Only three of the crew survived. His poem, The Shipwreck, was
published in 1762. It was dedicated to the Duke of York, and through his intervention he was "rated
as a midshipman in the Royal Navy." Either as author or naval officer, he came to be on intimate
terms with John Murray the first, who thought highly of his abilities, and offered him (October 16,
1768) a partnership in his new bookselling business in Fleet Street. In September, 1769, he embarked