Another 't is to tell The mountain-peasants to descend, Oh! who in such a night will dare And who 'mid thunder peals can hear And who that heard our shouts would rise Nor rather deem from nightly cries Clouds burst, skies flash, oh, dreadful hour! Yet here one thought has still the power While wand'ring through each broken path, While elements exhaust their wrath, Not on the sea, not on the sea, Thy bark hath long been gone: Oh, may the storm that pours on me, Full swiftly blew the swift Siroc, And long ere now, with foaming shock, Now thou art safe; nay, long ere now And since I now remember thee Which mirth and music sped; Do thou, amid the fair white walls, At times from out her latticed halls Then think upon Calypso's isles, Pindus, in Albania. Mr. Hobhouse, who had rode on before the rest of the party, and arrived at Zitza just as the evening set in, describes the thunder as "roaring without intermission, the echoes of one peal not ceasing to roll in the mountains, before another tremendous crash burst over our heads; whilst the plains and the distant hills appeared in a perpetual blaze." "The tempest," he says, "was altogether terrific, and worthy of the Grecian Jove. My Friend, with the priest and the servants, did not enter our hut till three To others give a thousand smiles, And when the admiring circle mark A half-form'd tear, a transient spark Again thou 'It smile, and blushing shun Nor own for once thou thought'st on one, Who ever thinks on thee. Though smile and sigh alike are vain, When sever'd hearts repine, My spirit flies o'er mount and main, And mourns in search of thine. STANZAS WRITTEN IN PASSING THE AMBRACIAN GULF. THROUGH cloudless skies, in silvery sheen, And now upon the scene I look, The azure grave of many a Roman ; Where stern Ambition once forsook His wavering crown to follow woman. Florence! whom I will love as well As ever yet was said or sung, (Since Orpheus sang his spouse from hell) Whilst thou art fair and I am young; Sweet Florence those were pleasant times, When worlds were staked for ladies' eyes: Had bards as many realms as rhymes, Thy charms might raise new Antonies. Though Fate forbids such things to be Yet, by thine eyes and ringlets curl'd! I cannot lose a world for thee, But would not lose thee for a world November 14. 1909. THE SPELL IS BROKE, THE CHARM IS FLOWN! WRITTEN AT ATHENS, JANUARY 16. 1810. THE spell is broke, the charm is flown! Thus is it with life's fitful fever: We madly smile when we should groan; Delirium is our best deceiver. Each lucid interval of thought Recalls the woes of Nature's charter, And he that acts as wise men ought, But lives, as saints have died, a martyr. in the morning. I now learnt from him that they had lost their way, and that, after wandering up and down in total norance of their position, they had stopped at last near re Turkish tombstones and a torrent, which they saw by the flashes of lightning. They had been thus exposed far ra.ne hours. It was long before we ceased to talk of the thunderstorm in the plain of Zitza."] ["These stanzas," says Mr. Moore, "have a music in them, which, independently of all meaning, is enchanting."] WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS Ir, in the month of dark December, (What maid will not the tale remember?) If, when the wintry tempest roar'd, He sped to Hero, nothing loth, And thus of old thy current pour'd, Fair Venus! how I pity both! For me, degenerate modern wretch, Though in the genial month of May, My dripping limbs I faintly stretch, And think I've done a feat to-day. But since he cross'd the rapid tide, According to the doubtful story, To woo, and -Lord knows what beside, And swam for Love, as I for Glory; 'T were hard to say who fared the best : Sad mortals! thus the Gods still plague you! He lost his labour, I my jest ; For he was drown'd, and I've the ague. ? May 9. 1810. On the 3d of May, 1810, while the Salsette (Captain Bathurst) was lying in the Dardanelles, Lieutenant Ekenhead of that frigate and the writer of these rhymes swam from the European shore to the Asiatic-by the by, from Abydos to Sestos would have been more correct. The whole distance from the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, including the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those ou board the frigate at upwards of four English miles; though the actual breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that no boat can row directly across, and it may, in some measure, be estimated from the circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one of the parties in an hour and five, and by the other in an hour and ten, minutes. The water was extremely cold, from the melting of the mountain snows. About three weeks before, in April, we had made an attempt; but, having ridden all the way from the Troad the same morning, and the water being of an icy chillness, we found it necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below the castles, when we swam the straits, as just stated; entering a considerable way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic, fort. Chevalier says that a young Jew swam the same distance for his mistress, and Oliver mentions its having been done by a Neapolitan; but our consul, Tarragona, remembered neither of these circumstances, and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the Salsette's crew were known to have accomplished a greater distance; and the only thing that surprised me was, that, as doubts had been entertained of the truth of Leander's story, no traveller had ever endeavoured to ascertain its practicability. 2["My companion," says Mr. Hobhouse, " had before made a more perilous, but less celebrated passage; for I recollect that, when we were in Portugal, he swam from Old Lisbon to Belem Castle, and having to contend with a tide and counter current, the wind blowing freshly, was but little less than two hours in crossing."] [At Orchomenus, where stood the Temple of the Graces, I was tempted to exclaim, "Whither have the Graces fled ?" Little did I expect to find them here; yet here comes one of them with golden cups and coffee, and another with a book. The book is a register of names, some of which are far sounded by the voice of fame. Among them is Lord Byron's, connected with some lines which I here send you. -H. W. WILLIAMS.] 4 [We copy the following interesting account of the Maid of Athens and her family from the late eminent artist, Mr. Hugh Williams of Edinburgh's, "Travels in Italy, Greece," &c." Our servant, who had gone before to procure accommodation, met us at the gate, and conducted us to Theodore LINES WRITTEN IN THE TRAVELLERS' BOOK AT ORCHOMENUS. IN THIS BOOK A TRAVELLER HAD WRITTEN: "FAIR Albion, smiling, sees her son depart To trace the birth and nursery of art: Noble his object, glorious is his aim; He comes to Athens, and he writes his name." BENEATH WHICH LORD BYRON INSERTED THE FOLLOWING: THE modest bard, like many a bard unknown, Rhymes on our names, but wisely hides his own; But yet, whoe'er he be, to say no worse, His name would bring more credit than his verse. ? 1810. MAID OF ATHENS, ERE WE PART. Ζώη μου, σᾶς ἀγαπῶ. MAID of Athens 4, ere we part, By those tresses unconfined, Macri, the Consulina's, where we at present live. This lady is the widow of the consul, and has three lovely daughters; the eldest celebrated for her beauty, and said to be the 'Maid of Athens' of Lord Byron. Their apartment is immediately opposite to ours, and, if you could see them, as we do now, through the gently waving aromatic plants before our window, you would leave your heart in Athens. Theresa, the Maid of Athens, Catinco, and Mariana, are of middle stature. On the crown of the head of each is a red Albanian skull-cap, with a blue tassel spread out and fastened down like a star. Near the edge or bottom of the skull-cap is a handkerchief of various colours bound round their temples. The youngest wears her hair loose, falling on her shoulders, -the hair behind descending down the back nearly to the waist, and, as usual, mixed with silk. The two eldest gene. rally have their hair bound, and fastened under the handkerchief. Their upper robe is a pelisse edged with fur, hanging loose down to the ankles; below is a handkerchief of muslin covering the bosom, and terminating at the waist, which is short; under that, a gown of striped silk or muslin, with a gore round the swell of the loins, falling in front in graceful negligence; -white stockings and yellow slippers complete their attire. The two eldest have black, or dark, hair and eyes; their visage oval, and complexion somewhat pale, with teeth of dazzling whiteness. Their cheeks are rounded, and noses straight, rather inclined to aquiline. The youngest, Mariana, is very fair, her face not so finely rounded, but has a gayer expression than her sisters', whose countenances, except when the conversation has something of mirth in it, may be said to be rather pensive. Their persons are elegant, and their manners pleasing and ladylike, such as would be fascinating in any country. They possess very considerable powers of conversation, and their minds seem to be more instructed than those of the Greek women in general. With such attractions, it would, indeed, be remarkable, if they did not meet with great attentions from the travellers who occasionally are resident in Athens. They sit in the eastern style, a little reclined, with their limbs gathered under them on the divan, and without shoes. Their employments are the needle, tambouring, and reading." There is a beautiful engraving of the Maid of Athens in Finden's Illustrations of Byron, No. 1.] 5 Romaic expression of tenderness: if I translate it, I shall affront the gentlemen, as it may seem that I supposed they could not; and if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter, I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means, "My life, I love you! which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Koman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenised. N n In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations) flowers, cinders, pebbles. &c. convey the sentiments of the parties by that universal deputy of Mercury-an old woman. A cinder says, "I burn for thee; "a bunch of flowers tied with hair, " Take me and fly;" but a pebble declares - what nothing else can. 2 Constantinople. 3 ["I am just come from an expedition through the Bosphorus to the Black Sea and the Cyanean Symplegades, up which last I scrambled with as great risk as ever the Argonauts escaped in their hoy. You remember the beginning of the nurse's dole in the Medea, of which I beg you to take the following translation, done on the summit."- Lord B. to Mr. Henry Drury, June 17. 1810.] ["I have just escaped from a physician and a fever. In spite of my teeth and tongue, the English consul, my Tartar, Albanian, dragoman, forced a physician upon me, and in three days brought me to the last gasp. In this state I made my epitaph."- Lord Byron to Mr. Hodgson, Oct. 3. 1810.] 5 [These lines are copied from a leaf of the original MS. of the second canto of "Childe Harold."] 6 [On the departure, in July, 1810, of his friend and fellowtraveller, Mr. Hobhouse, for England, Lord Byron fixed his head-quarters at Athens, where he had taken lodgings in a Franciscan convent; making occasional excursions through Attica and the Morea, and employing himself, in the interval of his tours, in collecting materials for those notices on the state of mode Greece which are appended to the second canto of "Chide Harold." In this retreat also he wrote "Hints from Horace," " The Curse of Minerva," and "Remarks on the Romaic, or Modern Greek Language." He thus writes to his mother:-" At present, I do not care to venture a winter's voyage, even if I were otherwise tired of travelling: but I am so convinced of the advantages of looking at mankind, instead of reading about them, and the bitter TRANSLATION OF THE FAMOUS GREEK WAR SONG, σε Δεύτε παίδες τῶν Ελλήνων." SONS of the Greeks, arise! The glorious hour 's gone forth, And, worthy of such ties, Display who gave us birth. CHORUS. Sons of Greeks! let us go In arms against the foe, Then manfully despising The Turkish tyrant's yoke, Let your country see you rising, And all her chains are broke. Brave shades of chiefs and sages, Behold the coming strife! Hellénes of past ages, Oh, start again to life! At the sound of my trumpet, breaking Fight, conquer, till we're free. effects of staying at home with all the narrow prejudices of an islander, that I think there should be a law anest us to send our young men abroad, for a terin, among the fow allies our wars have left us. Here I see, and have conversed with, French, Italians, Germans, Danes, Greeks, Turks, Americans, &c. &c. &c.; and, without losing sight of my OWD, I can judge of the countries and manners of others. When I see the superiority of England (which, by the by, we are a good deal mistaken about in many things), I am pleased; and where I find her inferior, I am at least enlightened. Now, I might have stayed, smoked in your towns, or fogged in your country, a century, without being sure of this, and without acquiring any thing more useful or amusing at home. I keep no journal; nor have I any intention of scribbling my travels I have done with authorship; and if, in my last productcr, 1 have convinced the critics or the world I was something more than they took me for, I am satisfied; nor will I hazard that reputation by a future effort. It is true I have some others in manuscript, but I leave them for those who come after me; and, if deemed worth publishing, they may serve to pro long my memory, when I myself shall cease to remer ber. I have a famous Bavarian artist taking some views of Athens, &c. &c. for me. This will be better than scribbling-a disease I hope myself cured of. I hope, on my return to lead a quiet, recluse life; but God knows, and does best for us all."] 7 The song Atúri raidis, &c. was written by Riga, who perished in the attempt to revolutionise Greece. This trans lation is as literal as the author could make it in verse. It is of the same measure as that of the original. While at the Capuchin convent, Lord Byron devoted some hours daily to the study of the Romaic; and various proofs of his diligence will be found in the APPENDIX. See Remarks the Romaic or Modern Greek Language, with Specm La and Translations.] 8 Constantinople. "Erriages." But the loveliest garden grows hateful My heart from these horrors to save: As the chief who to combat advances Thus thou, with those eyes for thy lances, 1 [Riga was a Thessalian, and passed the first part of his youth among his native mountains, in teaching ancient Greek to his countrymen. On the first burst of the French revolution, he joined himself to some other enthusiasts, and with them perambulated Greece, rousing the bold, and encouraging the tirnid, by his minstrelsy. He afterwards went to Vienna to solicit aid for a rising, which he and his comrades had for years been endeavouring to accomplish; but he was given up by the Austrian government to the Turks, who vainly endeavoured by torture to force from him the names of the other conspirators.] The song from which this is taken is a great favourite with the young girls of Athens of all classes. Their manner Now sad is the garden of roses, And mourns o'er thine absence with me. ON PARTING. THE kiss, dear maid! thy lip has left Thy parting glance, which fondly beams, The tear that from thine eyelid streams I ask no pledge to make me blest Nor one memorial for a breast, Whose thoughts are all thine own. Nor need I write-to tell the tale Unless the heart could speak? By day or night, in weal or woe, March, 1811. EPITAPH FOR JOSEPH BLACKETT, FAREWELL TO MALTA. ADIEU, ye joys of La Valette! Adieu, sirocco, sun, and sweat! Adieu, thou palace rarely enter'd ! Adieu, ye mansions where I've ventured! Adieu, ye cursed streets of stairs! (How surely he who mounts you swears!) Adieu, ye merchants often failing! Adieu, thou mob for ever railing! Adieu, ye packets-without letters! Adieu, ye fools-who ape your betters! Adieu, thou damned'st quarantine, That gave me fever, and the spleen! Adieu that stage which makes us yawn, Sirs, Adieu his Excellency's dancers ! Adieu to Peter-whom no fault's in, But could not teach a colonel waltzing; Adieu, ye females fraught with graces! Adieu red coats, and redder faces! Adieu the supercilious air Of all that strut" en militaire!" I go-but God knows when, or why, Farewell to these, but not adieu, And fallen chiefs, and fleets no more, And now I've got to Mrs. Fraser, And now, O Malta! since thou'st got us, But only stare from out my casement, And ask, for what is such a place meant? Or take my physic while I'm able May 26. 1811. [First published, 1832.] 1["On a leaf of one of Lord Byron's paper-books I find an Epigram, which, though not perhaps particularly good, I consider myself bound to insert."- MOORE. The farce in question was called "M.P.; or, the Blue Stocking," and TO DIVES. A FRAGMENT. UNHAPPY DIVES! in an evil hour 'Gainst Nature's voice seduced to deeds accurst! Once Fortune's minion, now thou feel'st her power; Wrath's viol on thy lofty head hath burst. In Wit, in Genius, as in Wealth the first, ON MOORE'S LAST OPERATIC FARCE, OR FARCICAL OPERA. Good plays are scarce, So Moore writes farce : The poet's fame grows brittle- That Little's Moore, But now 'tis Moore that's little. Sept. 14. 1811. [First published, 1830. '] EPISTLE TO A FRIEND, IN ANSWER TO SOME LINES EXHORTING THE AUTHOR "OH! banish care"-such ever be Perchance of mine, when wassail nights 'T were long to tell, and vain to hear, came out at the Lyceum Theatre, on the 9th of September.] 2 [Mr. Francis Hodgson (not then the Reverend). See ante, p. 542.] |