barous and tyrannical oppressors. He came, in a word, according to the testimony of those who were intimate with him, with the determination to die in Greece and for Greece! How, therefore, can we do otherwise than lament with heartfelt sorrow the loss of such a man? How can we do otherwise than bewail it as the loss of the whole Greek nation?

Thus far, my friends, you have seen him liberal, generous, courageous-a true Philhelenist; and you have seen him as your benefactor. This is, indeed, a sufficient cause for your tears, but it is not sufficient for his honour; it is not sufficient for the greatness of the undertaking in which he had engaged. He, whose death we are now so deeply deploring, was a man who, in one great branch of literature, gave his name to the age in which we live: the vastness of his genius and the richness of his fancy did not permit him to follow the splendid though beaten track of the literary fame of the ancients; he chose a new roada road which ancient prejudice had endeavored, and was still endeavoring, to shut against the learned of Europe: but as long as his writings live-and they must live as long as the world exists-this road will remain always open; for it is, as well as the other, a sure road to true knowledge. I will not detain you at the present time by expressing all the respect and enthusiasm with which the perusal of his writings has always inspired me, and which indeed I feel much more powerfully now than at any other period. The learned men of all Europe celebrate him, and have celebrated him; and all ages will celebrate the poet of our age, for he was born for all Europe and for all ages.

'One consideration occurs to me, as striking and true as it is applicable to the present state of our country: listen to it, my friends, with attention, that you may make it your own, and that it may become a generally acknowledged truth.

There have been many great and splendid nations in the world, but few have been the epochs of their true glory one phenomenon, I am inclined to believe, is wanting in the history of these nations-and one, the possibility of the appearance of which the all-considering mind of the philosopher has much doubted. Almost all the nations of the world have fallen from the hands of one master into those of another; some have been benefitted, others have been injured, by the change; but the eye of the historian has not yet seen a nation enslaved by barbarians, and more particularly by barbarians rooted for ages in their soil has not yet seen, I say, such a people throw off their slavery un

assisted and alone. This is the phenomenon; and now, for the first time in the history of the world, we witness it in Greece-yes, in Greece alone! The philosopher beholds it from afar, and his doubts are dissipated; the historian sees it, and prepares his citation of it as a new event in the fortunes of nations; the statesman sees it, and becomes more observant and more on his guard. Such is the extraordinary time in which we live. My friends, the insurrection of Greece is not an epoch of our nation alone; it is an epoch of all nations: for, as I before observed, it is a phenomenon which stands alone in the political history of nations.

The great mind of the highly-gifted and much-lamented Byron observed this phenomenon, and he wished to unite his name with our glory. Other revolutions have happened in his time, but he did not enter into any of them-he did not assist any of them; for their character and nature were totally different: the cause of Greece alone was a cause worthy of him whom all the learned [men] of Europe celebrate. Consider then, my friends, consider the time in which you live-in what a struggle you are engaged; consider that the glory of past ages admits not of comparison with yours: the friends of liberty, the philanthropists, the philosophers of all nations, and especially of the enlightened and generous English nation, congratulate you, and from afar rejoice with you; all animate you; and the poet of our age, already crowned with immortality, emulous of your glory, came personally to your shores, that he might, together with yourselves, wash out with his blood the marks of tyranny from our polluted soil.

'Born in the great capital of England, his descent noble, on the side of both his father and his mother, what unfeigned joy did his Philhelenic heart feel, when our poor city, in token of our gratitude, inscribed his name among the number of her citizens! In the agonies of death; yes, at the moment when eternity appeared before him; as he was lingering on the brink of mortal and immortal life; when all the material world appeared but as a speck in the great works of Divine Omnipotence; in that awful hour, but two names dwelt upon the lips of this illustrious individual, leaving all the world besides— the names of his only and much-beloved daughter, and of Greece: these two names, deeply engraven on his heart, even the moment of death could not efface. " My daughter!" he said; "Greece!" he exclaimed; and his spirit passed away. What Grecian heart will not be deeply affected as often as it recalls this moment?

Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very grateful, to his shade,

for they are the tears of sincere affection; but much more grateful will be our deeds in the cause of our country, which, though removed from us, he will observe from the heavens, of which his virtues have doubtless opened to him the gates. This return alone does he require from us for all his munificence; this reward for his love towards us; this consolation for his sufferings in our cause; and this inheritance for the loss of his invaluable life. When your exertions, my friends, shall have liberated us from the hands which have so long held us down in chains; from the hands which have torn from our arms our property, our brothers, our children;-then will his spirit rejoice, then will his shade be satisfied!-Yes, in that blessed hour of our freedom, the archbishop will extend his sacred and free hand, and pronounce blessing over his venerated tomb; the young warrior, sheathing his sword, red with the blood of his tyrannical oppressors, will strew it with laurel; the statesman will consecrate it with his oratory; and the poet, resting upon the marble, will become doubly inspired: the virgins of Greece, (whose beauty our illustrious fellow-citizen Byron has celebrated in many of his poems,) without any longer fearing contamination from the rapacious hands of our oppressors, crowning their heads with garlands, will dance round it, and sing of the beauty of our land, which the poet of our age has already commemorated with such grace and truth. But what sorrowful thought now presses upon my mind! My fancy has carried me away; I had pictured to myself all that my heart could have desired; I had imagined the blessing of our bishops, the hymns, and laurel crowns, and the dance of the virgins of Greece round the tomb of the benefactor of Greece;-but this tomb will not contain his precious remains; the tomb will remain void; but a few days more will his body remain on the face of our land-of his newchosen country; it cannot be given over to our arms; it must be borne to his own native land, which is honored by his birth.

Oh daughter! most dearly beloved by him, your arms will receive him; your tears will bathe the tomb which shall contain his body;— and the tears of the orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn containing his precious heart, and over all the land of Greece, for all the land of Greece is his tomb. As in the last moment of his life you and Greece were alone in his heart and upon his lips, it was but just that she (Greece) should retain a share of the precious remains. Missolonghi, his country, will ever watch over and protect with all her strength the urn containing his venerated heart, as a symbol of his love towards us. All Greece, clothed in mourning and inconsolable,

accompanies the procession in which it is borne; all ecclesiastical, civil, and military honours attend it; all his fellow-citizens of Misso. longhi and fellow-countrymen of Greece follow it, crowning it with their gratitude and bedewing it with their tears; it is blessed by the pious benedictions and prayers of our archbishop, bishop, and all our clergy. Learn, noble lady, learn that chieftains bore it on their shoulders, and carried it to the church; thousands of Greek soldiers lined the way through which it passed, with the muzzles of their muskets, which had destroyed so many tyrants, pointed towards the ground, as though they would war against that earth which was to deprive them for ever of the sight of their benefactor;—all this crowd of soldiers, ready at a moment to march against the implacable enemy of Christ and man, surrounded the funeral couch, and swore never to forget the sacrifices made by your father for us, and never to allow the spot where his heart is placed to be trampled upon by barbarous and tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian voices were in a moment heard, and the temple of the Almighty resounded with supplications and prayers that his venerated remains might be safely conveyed to his native land, and that his soul might rest where the righteous alone find rest.'

On May the 24, the remains of Lord Byron were embarked, under a salute from the guns of the fortress. "How different," exclaims Count Gamba," from that which had welcomed the arrival of Byron, only four months ago!" After a passage of three days, the vessel reached Zante; and the precious deposit was placed in the quarantine house. Here some additional precautions were taken, to ensure its safe arrival in England, by providing another case for the body.

Colonel Stanhope was on his way back to England, and he therefore took charge of Lord Byron's remains, and embarked with them on board the Florida. On the 25th of May she sailed from Zante, and arrived in the Downus on June 29th. She afterwards went to Stangate Creek, to perform quarantine, where she arrived on Thors. day, July 1st.

John Cam Hobhouse, Esq. and John Hanson, Esq. Lord Byron's executors, after having proved his will, claimed the body from the Florida; and under their directions it was removed to the house of Sir Edward Kuatchbull, No. 20, Great George Street, Westminster. Preparations were then made for the funeral. On Friday and Saturday, July 9th and 10th, the body lay in state, and was visited by a great number of noblemen and gentlemen. The crowd would probably have been too great, had every person been admitted; and

therefore those only who could procure tickets, issued for the purpose, were allowed to pay the last tribute of their admiration to this illustrious man. By his friends, and those who knew him well, Lord Byron is described as not much altered in his appearance by death. He was thinuer, more care-worn than formerly, but the lineaments of his face were unchanged; there was no mark of suffering in his countenance, and he appeared as if he were in a deep sleep. Some difference of opinion existed as to where he was to be buried; it having been suggested that he should be placed either in Westminster Abbey or in St. Paul's Cathedral; but the good taste of his sister, Mrs. Leigh, prevailed, and it was settled that he should be laid, agreeably to a wish expressed in his writings, in the family vault at Newstead, and near his mother.

On Monday, July 12th, at eleven o'clock in the morning, the funeral procession, attended by a great number of noblemen's and gentlemen's carriages, and by crowds of people, who evinced a deep sympathy, left the house at Westminster, and traversed various streets of the metropolis, to reach the north road. At Pancras Gate the carriages returned; the procession was at an end, and the hearse proceeded by slow stages to Nottingham.

One little incident is narrated in the public journals of the day, which seems worthy of receiving that trifling additional circulation I may hope this book will give to it. As the procession proceeded through the streets of London, a fine looking honest tar was observed to walk near the hearse uncovered throughout the morning; and on being asked by a stranger whether he formed part of the funeral cortege, he replied that he came there to pay his respects to the deceased, with whom he had served in the Levant, when he made the tour of the Grecian Islands. This poor fellow was kindly offered a place by some of the servants who were behind the carriage; but he said he was strong, and had rather walk near the hearse.

It was not till Friday, July 16th, that the interment took place. Lord Byron was buried in the family vault at the village church of Hucknel, eight miles beyond Nottingham, and within two miles of Newstead Abbey, once the property of the Byron family. He was accompanied to the grave by crowds of persons eager to show this last testimony of respect to his memory. In one of his earlier poems he had expressed a wish that his dust might mingle with his mother's, and in compliance with this wish, his coffin was placed in the vault next to hers. It was twenty minutes past four o'clock on Friday,