18 TO IANTHE. Nor in those climes where I have late been straying, Though Beauty long hath there been matchless Not in those visions to the heart displaying they speak? trary, 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, honor, and so forth. 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 St. Palaye, passim, and more particularly vol. ii., page 69. 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 To those who gaze on thee what language could Ovid. The "Cours d'amour, parlemens d'amour ou de courtesie et de gentilesse" had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness. See Rolland on the same subject with St. 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."* 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 reproche." 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 Maria Antoinette was quite as chaste as most of those in whose honors lances were shivered, and knights unhorsed. Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir Joseph Banks, (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 pro ceeded 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, perhaps a poetical Zeluco. • The Rovers. Antijacobin. Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art, Young Peri of the West!-'tis well for me decreed. Oh let that eye, which, wild as t..e Gazelle's, Such is thy name with this my verse entwined; Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast, CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE. CANTO I. I. Oн, thou! in Hellas deem'd of heavenly birth, II. Whilome in Albion's isle there dwelt a youth, III. Childe Harold was he hight,—but whence his name IV. Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun, V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run, VI. And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his native land resolv'd to go, VII. The Childe departed from his father's hall: So old, it seemed only not to fall, Yet strength was pillar'd in each massy aisle. VIII. [brow, Yet ofttimes in his maddest mirthful mood Strange pangs would flash along Childe Harold's As if the memory of some deadly feud Or disappointed passion lurk'd below: But this none knew, nor haply cared to know; For his was not that open, artless soul That feels relief by bidding sorrow flow, Nor sought he friend to counsel or condole, Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad Whate'er his grief mote be, which he could not Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, |