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Genuss an seinem hohen Dascyn einigermassen verkümmert. Der deutsche Bewunderer jedoch, hierdurch nicht geirrt, folgte mit Aufmerksamkeit einem so seltenen Leben und Dichten in aller seiner Excentricität, die freilich um desto auffallender seyn muste, als ihres Gleichen in vergangenen Jahrhunderten nicht wohl zu entdecken gewesen und uns die Elemente zur Berechnung einer solchen Bahn völlig abgingen. Indessen waren die Bemühungen des Deutschen dem Engländer nicht unbekannt geblieben, der davon in seinen Gedichten unzweideutige Beweise darlegte, nicht weniger sich durch Reisende mit manchem freundlichen Gruss Ternehmen lies. Sodann aber folgte, überraschend, gleichfalls durch Vermittlung, das Originalblatt einer Dedication des Trauerspiels Sardanapalus in den ehrenreichsten Ausdrücken und mit der freundlichen Anfrage, ob solche gedachtem Stück vorgedruckt werden könnte. Der deutsche mit sich selbst und seinen Leistungen im hohen Alter wohlbekannte Dichter durfte den Inhalt jener Widmung nur als Aeusserung eines trefflichen, hochfühlenden, sich selbst seine Gegenstände schaffenden, unerschöpflichen Geistes mit Dank und Bescheidenheit betrachten; auch fühlte er sich nicht mazufrieden, als, bei mancherlei Verspätung, Sardanapal ohne ein solches Torwert gedruckt wurde, und fand sich schon glücklich im Besitz eines litlegraphisten Fac simile, zu höchst werthem Andenken. Doch gab der ede Lord seinen Vorsatz nicht auf, dem deutschen Zeit- und Geist-Gethesen eine bedeutende Freundlichkeit zu erweisen; wie denn das Traueriel Werner ein höchst schätzbares Denkmal an der Stirne führt. Hierrah wird man denn wohl dem deutschen Dichtergreise zutrauen, dass er

80 gründlich guten Willen, welcher uns auf dieser Erde selten beregnet, von einem so hoch gefeierten Manne ganz unverhofft erfahrend, tich gleichfalls bereitete mit Klarheit und Kraft auszusprechen, von welcher Hochachtung er für seinen unübertroffenen Zeitgenossen durchdruntron welchem theilnehmenden Gefühl für ihn er belebt sey. Aber die Aufgabe fand sich so gross, und erschien immer grösser, jemehr man ha säher trat; denn was soll man von einem Erdgebornen sagen, dessen Terdienste durch Betrachtung und Wort nicht zu erschöpfen sind? Als daher ein junger Mann, Herr Sterling, angenehm von Person und rein von Riten

, im Frühjahr 1823 seinen Weg von Genua gerade nach Weimar maken, und auf einem kleinen Blatte wenig eigenhändige Worte des verehrten Mannes als Empfehlung überbrachte, als nun bald darauf das Gericht verlautete, der Lord werde seinen grossen Sinn, seine mannigfaltra Krifte, an erhabengefährliche Thaten über Meer verwenden, da war miks länger zu zaudern und eilig nachstehendes Gedicht geschrieben:

Ein freundlich Wort kommt, eines nach dem andern,

Von Süden her und bringt uns frohe Stunden;
Es ruft uns auf zum Edelsten zu wandern,

Nicht ist der Geist doch ist der Fuss gebunden.
Wie soll ich dem, den ich so lang' begleitet,

Nun etwas Traulich's in die Ferne sagen?
Ihm, der sich selbst im Innersten bestreitet,

Stark angewohnt, das tiefste Weh zu tragen.
Wohl sey ihm doch, wenn er sich selbst empfindet!

Er wage selbst sich hochbeglückt zu nennen,
Wenn Musenkraft die Schmerzen überwindet;

Und wie ich ihn erkannt, mög' er sich kennen.
Weimar, den 22 Juny, 1823.

uns

Es gelangte nach Genua, fand ihn aber nicht mehr daselbst; schon wa der treffliche Freund abgesegelt und schien einem jeden schon weit ent fernt; durch Stürme jedoch zurückgehalten, landete er in Livorno, w ihn das herzlich gesendete gerade noch traf, um es im Augenblicke sei ner Abfahrt, den 24 July 1823, mit einem reinen schön-gefühlten Blat erwiedern zu können; als werthestes Zeugniss eines würdigen Verhältnisse unter den kostbarsten Documenten vom Besitzer aufzubewahren. So seh

nun ein solches Blatt erfreuen und rühren und zu der schönste, Lebenshoffnung aufregen musste, so erhält es gegenwärtig durch da unzeitige Ableben des hohen Schreibenden den grössten schmerzlichste Werth, indem es die allgemeine Trauer der Sitten- und Dichterwelt übe seinen Verlust für uns leider ganz insbesondere schärft, die wir nac vollbrachtem grossen Bemühen hoffen durften, den vorzüglichsten Geis den glücklich erworbenen Freund und zugleich den menschlichsten Siege persönlich zu begrüssen. Nun aber erhebt uns die Ueberzeugung, da seine Nation, aus dem, theilweise gegen ihn aufbrausenden, tadelnde scheltenden Taumel plötzlich zur Nüchternheit erwachen und allgeme begreifen werde, dass alle Schalen und Schlacken der Zeit und de Individuums, durch welche sich auch der beste hindurch und heraus 2 arbeiten hat, nur augenblicklich, vergänglich und hinfällig gewesen, wogege der staunungswürdige Ruhm, zu dem er sein Vaterland für jetzt u künftig erhebt, in seiner Herrlichkeit gränzenlos und in seinen Folge unberechenbar bleibt. Gewiss, diese Nation, die sich so vieler grossi Namen rühmen darf, wird ihn verklärt zu denjenigen stellen, durch d sie sich immerfort selbst zu ehren hat."

LORD BYRON'S LAST LINES.

"Tis time this heart should be unmoved

Since others it has ceased to move; Yet, though I cannot be beloved,

Still let me love.

The sword, the banner, and the field,

Glory and Greece around us see; The Spartan borne upon his shield

Was not more free.

My days are in the yellow leaf;

The flowers and fruits of love are gone: The worm, the canker and the grief,

Are mine alone.

Awake! not Greece-she is awake!-

Awake my spirit- think through who My life-blood tastes its parent lake

And then strike hom

The fire that in my bosom preys

Is like to some volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at his blaze-

A funeral pile.
The hope, the fears, the jealous care,

The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love I cannot share,

But wear the chain,

I tread reviving passions down,

Unworthy Manhood - unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown

Of beauty be.
If thou regret thy youth, why live?

The land of honourable death
Is here-up to the field, and give

Away thy breath!
Seek out-less often sought than found

A soldier's grave, for thee the best; Then look around, and choose thy groun

And take thy rest.
Missolunghi, February, 1824.

But 'tis not here-it is not here-
Such thoughts should shake my soul,

nor now-
Where glory seals the hero's bier,

Or binds his brow.

CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE.

A ROMA U N T.

L'univers est une espèce de livre dont on n'a lu que la première page, quand on n'a
se que son pays. J'en ai feuilleté un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouvé également
manraises. Cet examen ne m'a point été infructueux. Je haissais ma patrie.
Testes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi lesquels j'ai vécu , m'ont
rectocilié 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 COBMOPOLITE.

PRE FACE. Te following Poem was written, for the The stanza of Spenser, according to one of most part, amidst the scenes which it attempts our most successful poets, admits of every to describe. It was begun in Albania, and variety. Dr. Beattie makes the following the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were observation : "Not long ago I began a poem pased from the author's observations in in the style and stanza of Spenser, in which those countries. Thus much it may be neces- I propose to give full scope to my inclination, bytostate for the correctness of the descrip- and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive fore

. The scenes attempted to be sketched or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the ein Spain, Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, humour strikes me; for, if I mistake not, Greece. There for the present the poem the measure which I have adopted admits to its reception will determine whether equally of all these kinds of compositions." the author may venture to conduct his read- Strengthened in my opinion by such authori

la the capital of the East, through Ionia ty, and by the example of some in the highest ad Phrygia: these two cantos are merely order of Italian poets,I shall make no apology Cerimental.

for attempts at similar variations in the folI fetitious character is introduced for the lowing composition; satisfied that, if they ole of giving some connexion to the piece, are unsuccessful, their failure must be in the which however, makes no pretention to re

execution, rather than in the design sanctionplanity. It has been suggested to me by ed by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Frede , on whose opinions I set a high value,

Beattie. taa this fictitious character, “Childe Ha

ADDITION TO THE PREFACE. en hy may incur the suspicion of having. I have now waited till almost all our periodunded some real personage: this I beg ical journals have distributed their usual Le child of imagination, for the purpose I generality of their criticisms I have nothing fue stated

. In some very trivial particu-to object; it would ill become me to quarrel bene, and those merely local, there might be with their very slight degree of censure, proud for such a notion ;' but in the main when, perhaps, if they had been less kind prists . I should hope, none whatever.

they had been more candid. Returning, there

fore, to all and each my best thanks for their k is almost superfluons to mention that liberality, on one point alone shall I venture de appellation Childe," as "Childe Wa

an observation. Amongst the many objections en Childe Childers," is used as more con- justly urged to the very indifferent character nast with the old structure of versifica- of the “vagrant Childe” (whom, notwithles which I have adopted. The “Good standing many hints to the contrary, I still Siche" in the beginning of the first canto, maintain to be a fictitious personage), it has suggested by “Lord Maxwell's Good been stated, that besides the anachronism, ht" in the Border Minstrelay, edited by he is very unknightly, as the times of the

Knights were times of love, honour, and so With the different poems which have been forth. Now it so happens that the good old prilished on Spanish subjects, there may be times, when “l'amour du bon vieux tems, l'aloved some slight coincidence in the first mour antique” flourished, were the most Hot which treats of the Peninsula, but it profligate of all possible centuries. Those only be casual; as, with the exception who have any doubts on this subject may con

few concluding stanzas , the whole of sult St. Palaye, passim, and more particuthis poem was written in the Levant. larly vol. 11. page 69. The vows of chivalry

were no better kept than any other vows Before the days of Bayard, and down to whatsoever, and the songs of the Trouba- those of Sir Joseph Banks (the most chasti dours were not more decent, and certainly and celebrated of ancient and modern times) were much less refined, than those of Ovid.- few exceptions will be found to this state The “Conrs d'amour, parlemens d'amour ou ment, and I fear a little investigation wil. de courtoisie et de gentilesse,” had much teach us not to regret these monstrous mum more of love than of courtesy or gentleness.- meries of the middle ages. See Roland on the same subject with St. Pa I now leave "Childe Harold” to live hi laye.- Whatever other objection may be ur-day, such as he is; it had been more agreea. ged to that most unamiable personage Childe ble, and certainly more easy, to have draw Harold, he was so far perfectly knightly in his an amiable character. It had been easy to var attributes-—"No waiter, but a knight tem- nish over his faults, to make him do more an plar."--By the by, I fear that Sir Tristram express less, but he never was intended as a and Sir Lancelot were no better than they example, further than to show that earl should be, although very poetical persona- perversion of mind and morals leads to satiet ges and true knights “sans peur,” though not of past pleasures and disappointment in ne “sans reproche.”-If the story of the insti- ones, and that even the beauties of nature tution of the “Garter” be not a fable, the and the stimulus of travel (except ambition knights of that order have for several centu- the most powerful of all excitements), ai ries borne the badge of a Countess of Salis- lost on a soul so constituted, or rather mi: bury, of indifferent memory. So much for directed. Had I proceeded with the Poen chivalry. Burke need not have regretted that this character would have deepened as h its days are over, though Maria Antoinette drew to the close; for the outline which was quite as chaste as most of those in whose once meant to fill up for him was, with som honours lances were shivered, and knights exceptions, the sketch of a modern Timo anhorsed.

perhaps a poetical Zeluco.

TO IANTHE. Not in those climes where I have late been Mine shall escape the doom thine cyı straying,

assign Thongh Beauty long hath there been match- To those whose admiration shall succeed,

less deem'd; But mix'd with pangs to Love's even lov Not in those visions to the heart displaying

liest hours decreed. Forms which it sighs but to have only

dream'd,

Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd: Now brightly bold or beautifully shy, Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwell To paint those charms which varied as they Glance o'er this page, nor to my ver beam'd

deny To such as see thee not my words were weak; That smile for which my breast might vain To those who gaze on thee what language

sigh, could they speak? Could I to thee be ever more than friend :

This much, dear maid, accord; nor questi Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art,

why Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring, To one so young my strain I would commen As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart, Bat bid me with my wreath one matchle Love's image upon earth without his wing,

lily blend. And guileless beyond Hope's imagining! And surely she who now so fondly rears Such is thy name with this my verse Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,

twined; Beholds the rainbow of her future years, And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow On Harold's page, lanthe's here enshrine

disappears. Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last :

My days once number'd, should this homag Young Peri of the West!--'tis well for me

past My years already doubly number thine; Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,

of him who hailed thee, loveliest as the And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;

wast, Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline, Such is the most my memory may desire; Happier, that while all younger hearts shall Though more than Hope can claim, cou bleed,

Friendship less requir

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CANTO I.

And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his

waste, 0.tkou! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth, Nor calm domestic peace had ever deign'd Meedium d or fabled at the minstrel's will!

to taste. Siace samed full oft by later lyres on earth, Mae dare not call thee from thy sacred hill: And now Childe Harold was sore sick at Ya there I've wander'd by thy vaunted rill;

heart, leighed o'er Delphi's long-deserted And from his fellow bacchanals would flee; shrine,

'Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, Where

, sare that feeble fountain, all is still; But Pride congeal'd the drop within his ee : Jer bote my shell awake the weary Nine Apart he stalk'd in joyless reverie, To grze so plain a tale—this lowly lay of And from his native land resolved to go, mine.

And visit scorching climes beyond the sea; Whileme in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth,

With pleasure druggd he almost longed for

woe, The se in Virtue's ways did take delight;

And e'en for change of scene would seek ut spent his days in riot most uncouth,

the shades below. Lattend with mirth the drowsy ear of Night. id me! in sooth he was a shameless wight, The Childe departed from his father's hall: egiven to revel and ungodly glee; hacarthly things found favour in his sight So old, it seemed only not to fall,

It was u vast and venerable pile; prancubines and carnal companie, la faunting wassailers of high and low Yet strength was pillar'd in each massy aisle.

Monastic dome! condemned to uses vile! degree.

Where Superstition once had made her den Lille Harold was he hight:-- but whence

Now Paphian girls were known to sing and

smile; his name I brake long, it suits me not to say;

And monks might deem their time was come I lor it, that perchance they were of fame, If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these

agen, had been glurions in another day: las ne sad losel soils a name for aye,

holy men. Home mighty in the olden time; bal } that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,

Yet oft-times in his maddest mirthful mood er farid prose, nor honied lies of rhyme, Strange pangs would flash along Childe ate hizzon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.

rold's brow,

As if the memory of some deadly feud (kilde Harold bask'd hijn in the noon-tide Or disappointed passion lark'd below: sun,

But this none knew, nor haply cared to know; temportag there like any other fly;

For his was not that open, artless soul Los bad before his

little day was done That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow, De bias might chill him into misery.

Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole, Ballongere scarce a third of his pass’d by,

Whate'er this grief mote be, which he Here than adversity the Childe befell;

could not control.
Her frie the fulness of satiety:
Tbez kathed he in his native land to dwell, And none did love him—though to hall and
Ruth seem'd to him more lone than Ere-

bower
mite's sad cell. Ile gather'd revellers from far and near,

He knew them flatt'rers of the festal hour; through Sin's long labyrinth had run, The heartless parasites of present cheer. Ser made atonement when he did amiss, Yea! none did love him—not his lemans dat nighid to many though he loved but one,

dearAnd that loved

one, alas? could ne'er be his. But pomp and power alone are woman's care, i, kappy be! to 'scape from him whose And where these are light Eros finds a feere; kiss

Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by Sad barn pollution unto aught so chaste;

glare, Who wody had left her charms for vulgar And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs bliss,

might despair.

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