INTRODUCTION TO THE ISLAND.

On the 28th of April, 1789, the Bounty was on its way from Otaheite with a cargo of bread-fruit trees, which the English Government wished to naturalise in the West Indies, when the larger part of the crew, headed by Christian, the mate, seized the commander, Captain Bligh, and launched him, together with eighteen others, who remained faithful to their duty, in an open boat upon the wide ocean. The remainder, twenty-eight in number, of whom four were detained against their will, set sail to Toobonai, one of the Friendly Islands. Thence they returned to Otaheite, where Christian landed the majority of the mutineers, while himself and eight of his comrades went back to Toobonai, with the intention of settling there. The natives regarding them as intruders, Christian and his company again put to sea, and established themselves, in 1790, upon Pitcairn's Island, which was then uninhabited. Captain Bligh, with twelve of his men, got safe to England, and the Pandora was despatched to Otaheite to apprehend the mutineers. Fourteen were captured, and of these four were drowned on the voyage, and three executed in England. It was in anticipation of the search for them at Otaheite that Christian and his party sought a securer home, and they took the further precaution to burn the ship as soon as they were settled upon Pitcairn's Island. No one guessed what had become of them, till the captain of an American vessel chanced, in 1809, to stop at their place of retreat, and learnt their curious story. They had carried with them from Otaheite six Tahitian men and twelve women. Quarrels broke out, a war of races commenced, and ultimately the nine Englishmen were killed or died, with the exception of one Smith, who assumed the name of Adams, and was the patriarch of the colony, which amounted in all to thirtyfive. Adams, touched by the tragedies he had witnessed, had trained up the half-caste children of himself and his countrymen in the way they should go, and they presented the singular spectacle of a moral, a united, and a happy family, sprung from a colony of ferocious mutineers. Such was the romance upon which the poet founded the tale of "The Island," though he has injudiciously interwoven with the central narrative a marvellous incident from Mariner, which relates to an entirely different adventure. It will be seen that Lord Byron has often departed from his authorities, and we share the general opinion in thinking that the piece would have gained in poetic effect if he had adhered more closely to historic truth. The opening lines, descriptive of sunrise at sea, and the twelfth section of the second canto, are worthy of the author, but the bulk of the tale is feebly versified, and seldom reminds us of the master-hand which penned the heroics of "The Corsair" and "Lara." "The Island" was written at Genoa, early in 1823, and published in June.

THE ISLAND.

CANTO THE FIRST.

I.

THE morning watch was come; the vessel lay
Her course, and gently made her liquid way;
The cloven billow flash'd from off her prow
In furrows form'd by that majestic plough;
The waters with their world were all before;
Behind, the South Sea's many an islet shore.
The quiet night, now dappling, 'gan to wane,
Dividing darkness from the dawning main;
The dolphins, not unconscious of the day,
Swam high, as eager of the coming ray;
The stars from broader beams began to creep,
And lift their shining eyelids from the deep;
The sail resumed its lately shadow'd white,
And the wind flutter'd with a freshening flight;
The purpling ocean owns the coming sun,
But ere he break-a deed is to be done.

II.

The gallant chief within his cabin slept,
Secure in those by whom the watch was kept.
His dreams were of Old England's welcome shore,
Of toils rewarded, and of dangers o'er;

His name was added to the glorious roll

Of those who search the storm-surrounded Pole.
The worst was over, and the rest seem'd sure,'
And why should not his slumber be secure?
Alas! his deck was trod by unwilling feet,
And wilder hands would hold the vessel's sheet;
Young hearts, which languish'd for some sunny isle,
Where summer years and summer women smile;
Men without country, who, too long estranged,
Had found no native home, or found it changed,
And, half uncivilised, preferr'd the cave
Of some soft savage to the uncertain wave—
The gushing fruits that nature gave untill'd;
The wood without a path but where they will'd;
The field o'er which promiscuous Plenty pour'd
Her horn; the equal land without a lord;
The wish-which ages have not yet subdued
In man-to have no master save his mood;❜
The earth, whose mine was on its face, unsold,
The glowing sun and produce all its gold;
The freedom which can call each grot a home;
The general garden, where all steps may roam,
Where Nature owns a nation as her child,
Exulting in the enjoyment of the wild;

Their shells, their fruits, the only wealth they know,
Their unexploring navy, the canoe;

Their sport, the dashing breakers and the chase;

Their strangest sight, an European face:

Such was the country which these strangers yearn'd

To see again; a sight they dearly earn'd.

1["A few hours before, my situation had been peculiarly flattering: I had a ship in the most perfect order, stored with every necessary, both for health and service; the object of the voyage was attained, and two thirds of it now completed. The remaining part had every prospect of success."-BLIGH.]

2 ["The women of Otaheite are handsome, mild, and cheerful in manners and conversation, possessed of great sensibility, and have sufficient delicacy to make them be admired and beloved. The chiefs were so much attached to our people, that they rather encouraged their stay among them than otherwise, and even made them promises of large possessions. Under these and many other concomitant circumstances, it ought hardly to be the subject of surprise that a set of sailors, most of them void of connections, should be led away, where they had the power of fixing themselves, in the midst of plenty, in one of the finest islands in the world, where there was no necessity to labour, and where the allurements of dissipation are beyond any conception that can be formed of it."-BLIGH.]

Awake, bold Bligh!

Awake! awake!

III.

the foe is at the gate!
Alas! it is too late!

Fiercely beside thy cot the mutineer

Stands, and proclaims the reign of rage and fear.
Thy limbs are bound, the bayonet at thy breast;
The hands, which trembled at thy voice, arrest;
Dragg'd o'er the deck, no more at thy command.
The obedient helm shall veer, the sail expand;
That savage spirit, which would lull by wrath
Its desperate escape from duty's path,
Glares round thee, in the scarce believing eyes
Of those who fear the chief they sacrifice:
For ne'er can man his conscience all assuage,
Unless he drain the wine of passion—rage.

IV.

In vain, not silenced by the eye of death,
Thou call'st the loyal with thy menaced breath:-
They come not; they are few, and, overawed,
Must acquiesce, while sterner hearts applaud.
In vain thou dost demand the cause: a curse
Is all the answer, with the threat of worse.
Full in thine eyes is waved the glittering blade,
Close to thy throat the pointed bayonet laid.
The levell'd muskets circle round thy breast
In hands as steel'd to do the deadly rest.

Thou dar'st them to their worst, exclaiming-" Fire!"
But they who pitied not could yet admire;
Some lurking remnant of their former awe
Restrain'd them longer than their broken law;
They would not dip their souls at once in blood,
But left thee to the mercies of the flood."

3 ["Just before sunrise, while I was yet asleep, Mr. Christian, with the master at arms, gunner's mate, and Thomas Burkitt, seaman, came into my cabin, and, seizing me, tied my hands with a cord behind my back, threatening me with instant death if I spoke or made the least noise. I nevertheless called out as loud as I could, in hopes of assistance; but the officers not of their party were already secured by sentinels at their doors. At my own cabin door were three men, besides the four within; all except Christian had muskets and bayonets; he had only a cutlass. I was dragged

V.

"Hoist out the boat!" was now the leader's cry;
And who dare answer "No!" to Mutiny,

In the first dawning of the drunken hour,
The Saturnalia of unhoped-for power?

The boat is lower'd with all the haste of hate,
With its slight plank between thee and thy fate;
Her only cargo such a scant supply

As promises the death their hands deny;
And just enough of water and of bread

To keep, some days, the dying from the dead:
Some cordage, canvass, sails, and lines, and twine,
But treasures all to hermits of the brine,
Were added after, to the earnest prayer
Of those who saw no hope, save sea and air;
And last, that trembling vassal of the Pole-
The feeling compass-Navigation's soul."

VI.

And now the self-elected chief finds time

To stun the first sensation of his crime,

And raise it in his followers-"Ho! the bowl!"

Lest passion should return to reason's shoal.

Brandy for heroes!" Burke could once exclaim

No doubt a liquid path to epic fame;

eat of bed, and forced on deck in my shirt. On demanding the reason of such violence, the only answer was abuse for not holding my tongue. The boatswain was then ordered to hoist out the launch, accompanied by a threat, if he did not do it instantly, to take care of himself. The boat being hoisted out, Mr. Heyward and Mr. Hallet, two of the midshipmen, and Mr. Samuel, the clerk, were ordered into it. I demanded the intention of giving this order, and endeavoured to persuade the people near me not to persist in such acts of violence; but it was to no effect; for the constant answer was, 'Hold your tongue, or you are dead this moment!""-BLIGH.] 4 [The boatswain, and those seamen who were to be put in the boat, were allowed to collect twine, canvass, lines, sails, cordage, and an eight-and-twenty-gallon cask of water; and Mr. Samuel got one hundred and fifty pounds of bread with a zmall quantity of rum and wine; also a quadrant and compass."-BLIGH.]

["The mutincers having thus forced those of the seamen whom they wished to get rid of into the boat, Christian directed a dram to be served to each of his crew."BLIGH.]

[It was Dr. Johnson who thus gave honour to Cognac.-"He was persuaded,' says Boswell, "to take one glass of claret. He shook his head, and said, 'Poor stuff!-No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be hero (smiling) must drink brandy.""]