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POEMS 1809-1813.

THE GIRL OF CADIZ.!

I.

Oh never talk again to me

Of northern climes and British ladies;
It has not been your lot to see,

Like me, the lovely Girl of Cadiz.
Although her eye be not of blue,

Nor fair her locks, like English lasses,
How far its own expressive hue

The languid azure eye surpasses !

2.

Prometheus-like from heaven she stole

The fire that through those silken lashes
In darkest glances seems to roll,

From eyes that cannot hide their flashes :

i. For thou hast never lived to see.

:-(MS. M. erased.] 1. [These stanzas were inserted in the first draft of the First Canto of Childe Harold, after the eighty-sixth stanza. “ The struggle 'gainst the Demon's sway” (see stanza lxxxiv.) had, apparently, resulted in victory, for the .

unpremeditated lay" poured forth at the time betrays the youth and high spirits of the singer. But the inconsistency was detected in time, and the lines, To Ines, dated Januar 25, 1810, with their “touches of dreariest sadness," were subst: for the simple and cheerful strains of The Girl of Cadiz ir Works, 1899, ii. 75, note 1 ; Life, p. 151).)

VOL. III.

And as along her bosom steal

In lengthened flow her raven tresses,
You'd swear each clustering lock could feel,

And curled to give her neck caresses.

i. 1

3.
Our English maids are long to woo,

And frigid even in possession ;
And if their charms be fair to view,

Their lips are slow at Love's confession;
But, born beneath a brighter sun,

For love ordained the Spanish maid is,
And who,—when fondly, fairly won, -

Enchants you like the Girl of Cadiz?

4.
The Spanish maid is no coquette,

Nor joys to see a lover tremble
And if she love, or if she hate,

Alike she knows not to dissemble.
Her heart can ne'er be bought or sold---

Howe'er it beats, it beats sincerely;
And, though it will not bend to gold,

"Twill love you long and love you dearly,

5.
The Spanish girl that meets your love

Ne'er taunts you with a mock denial,
For every thought is bent to prove

Her passion in the hour of trial.

i. The Saxon maids --[MS. M.] 1. [Compare Childe Harold, Canto I. stanza lviii. lines 8, 9, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 59, note 1.]

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When thronging foemen menace Spain,

She dares the deed and shares the danger;
And should her lover press the plain,

She hurls the spear, her love's avenger.

6.
And when, beneath the evening star,

She mingles in the gay Bolero,'
Or sings to her attuned guitar

Of Christian knight or Moorish hero,
Or counts her beads with fairy hand

Beneath the twinkling rays of Hesper,"
Or joins Devotion's choral band,

To chaunt the sweet and hallowed vesper ;

7.
In each her charms the heart must move

Of all who venture to behold her;
Then let not maids less fair reprove

Because her bosom is not colder :
Through many a clime 'tis mine to roam

Where many a soft and melting maid is,
But none abroad, and few at home,
May match the dark-eyed Girl of Cadiz..

1809. [First published, 1832.)

i. Or tells with light and fairy hand

Her beads beneath the rays of Hesper.-(MS. M. erased.] ii. the lovely Girl of Cadiz.--(MS. M.] 1. (For “ Bolero," see Po.tical Works, 1898, i. 492, note 1.)

LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM, AT MALTA.1

I.

As o'er the cold sepulchral stone

Some name arrests the passer-by ;
Thus, when thou view'st this page alone,

May mine attract thy pensive eye!

i. Written in an Album.-(Editions 1812-1831.)

Written in Mrs. Spencer S.'s. -,--MS. M. crased.]
Written at the request of a lady in her memorandum book. -
(MS. B. M. Mrs. S. S.'s request."-Erased. MS. B. M.)

1. (The possessor of the album was, doubtless, Mrs. Spencer Smith, the "Lady" of the lines To Florence, “the sweet Florence of the Stanzas composed during a Thunderstorm, and of the Standas written in passing through the Ambracian Gulf, and, finally, when “The Spell is broke, the Charm is flown,” the "fair Florence " of stanzas xxxii., xxxiii. of the Second Canto of Childe Harold. In a letter to his mother, dated September 15, 1809, Byron writes, “This letter is committed to the charge of a very extraordinary woman, whom you have doubtless heard of, Mrs. Spencer Smith, of whose escape the Marquis de Salvo published a narrative a few years ago (Travels in the Year 1806, from Italy to England through the Tyrol, etc., containing the particulars of the liberation of Mrs. Spincer Smith from the hands of the French Police. London: 12mo, 1807). She has since been shipwrecked, and her life has been from its commencement so fertile in remarkable incidents, that in a romance they would appear improbable. She was born at Constantinople (cire. 1785), where her father, Baron Herbert, was Austrian Ambassador; married unhappily, yet has never been impeached in point of character ; excited the vengeance of Buonaparte by a part in some conspiracy ; several times risked her life ; and is not yet twenty. five."

John Spencer Smith, the “ Lady's" husband, was a younger brother of Admiral Sir Sidney Smith, the hero of the siege of Acre. He began life as a Page of Honour to Queen Charlotte, was, asterwards, attached to the Turkish Embassy, and (May 4, 1798) appointed Minister Plenipotentiary. On January 5, 1799, he concluded the treaty of defensive alliance with the Porte; and, October 30, 1799, obtained the freedom of the Black Sea for the English Aag (see Remains of the late John Twiddell. London : 1815. See, too, for Mrs. Spencer Smith, Letters, 1898, i. 244, 245, note i).)

2.

And when by thee that name is read,

Perchance in some succeeding year,
Reflect on me as on the dead,
And think my Heart is buried here.

Malta, September 14, 1809
(First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).)

TO FLORENCE.

I.

Oh Lady! when I left the shore,

The distant shore which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,

To quit another spot on earth :

2.

Yet here, amidst this barren isle,

Where panting Nature droops the head, Where only thou art seen to smile,

I view my parting hour with dread.

3. Though far from Albin's craggy shore,

Divided by the dark-blue main; A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er,

Perchance I view her cliffs again :

t.
But wheresoe'er I now may roam,

Through scorching clime, and varied sea,
Though Time restore me to my home,
I ne'er shall bend mine

eyes on thee:
i. To -:-[Editions 1812-1832.)

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