CHAPTER XV.

Rome.-Completion of "Childe Harold."-Fall of Venice. An Italian Landscape by Moonlight.Statue of Venus.-Conclusion of the Poem.Deformities.-Poetical Tale of " Beppo."-Allusion to Peter Pindar and Whistlecraft. - A Literary imposition practised on Lord Byron, in the Story of the Vampyre."-Publication of "Mazeppa."

AFTER visiting various parts of the North of Italy, Lord Byron took up his abode for some time at Venice, where he was joined by his old acquaintance Mr. Hobhouse, with whom he went on an excursion to Rome; and there the poem of Childe Harold received its completion. The longest and last Canto of this very irregular piece was published at the beginning of 1818, with a complimentary address to the

author's fellow traveller, who, besides contributing to the volume a copious body of notes, printed also, in a separate form, a miscellany, entituled "Illustrations of Childe Harold."

The poem opens at Venice, which city is described as seen from the "Bridge of Sighs," and rising like a new Cybele from the ocean. The fallen fortunes of this once famed republic are lamented in strong terms, and with many severe reflections upon England, for neglecting to protect the most tyrannical of all oligarchies, and which for many years had given indications of irremediable and merited dissolution. From Venice we are conducted to Arqua, where Petrarch lies; thence to Ferrara; and finally, by the course of the Arno, to the ancient capital of the world. In this circuit various interesting objects are described, and some spirited sketches introduced of eminent Italian writers, among whom are Dante, Tasso, Ariosto, Boccacio, and Alfieri. Of the picturesque representations, the moonlight scene near Venice is one of the most beautiful; and the description of a cataract on the Velino, one of the

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ITALIAN LANDSCAPE.

grandest in the poem. The former as exhibiting the soft features of an Italian sky and landscape, may be considered as a poetical Claude :

"The Moon is up, and yet it is not night—
Sunset divides the sky with her :-a sea
Of glory streams along the Alpine height

Of blue Friuli's mountains: heaven is free
From clouds, but of all colours seems to be
Melted to one vast Iris of the west,

Where the Day joins the past Eternity;
While, on the other hand, meek Dian's crest
Floats through the azure air-an island of the blest!
A single star is at her side, and reigns

With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still
Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains
Roll'd o'er the peak of the far Rhotian hill,
As day and night contending were, until
Nature reclaim'd her order :-gently flows
The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil
The odorous purple of a new-born rose,

Which streams upon her stream, and glass'd within it glows,
Fill'd with the face of heaven, which from afar

Comes down upon the waters, all its hues

From the rich sunset to the rising star

Their magical variety diffuse;

THE BATHOS.

And now they change; a paler shadow strews

Its mantle o'er the mountains; parting day

Dies, and like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues

With a new colour as it gasps away,

The last still loveliest, 'till-'tis gone-and all is grey."

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There are some sad prosaic lines and uncouth terminations in this passage; but the worst drawback from unqualified praise lies against a ludicrous instance of the bathos, in which the mellowing shades of a delightful evening sky are compared to the changes of colour in a dying fish.

Such excrescencies are, however, too thickly strewn throughout the poem; and what is very extraordinary, we meet with them most in those parts where it was natural to expect the greatest correctness and the highest polish. Thus, in the apostrophe to Venus, occasioned by a contemplation of her statue, nothing can be conceived more incongruous, limping, and absurd, than the following lines:

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Appear'dst thou not to Paris in this guise?

Or to more deeply blest Anchises? or

In all thy perfect goddess-ship, when lies

Before thee thy own vanquish'd Lord of War?

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STRANGE SIMILE.

And gazing on thy face as toward a star,

Laid on thy lap, his eyes to thee upturn,
Feeding on thy sweet cheek! while thy lips are

With lava kisses melting while they burn

Shower'd on his eye-lids, brow, and mouth, as from an urn!"

This simile of volcanic kisses, showered from an urn, if any idea can be formed of such endearments, would have made Longinus swear, even though he had found the figure in Homer.

The address to Rome is of a different character, and the description of the Collisæum, with the story of the gladiator, will make the reader forget, for a moment, the blemishes which elsewhere disjoint the verse and spoil the sense.

We pass over the flaming spirit with which the author raves upon his mighty wrongs, and prophesies bitter things against the "souls of those whom he surveys in his imagination." His imprecations are indeed deep and dreadful, but we turn from them to a feeling more sentimental and poetic: