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The sound of her lament shall, rising o'er
The seraph voices, touch the Almighty Mind.
Meantime I, humblest of thy sons, and of
Earth's dust by immortality refined

To sense and suffering, though the vain may scoff,
And tyrants threat, and meeker victims bow
Before the storm, because its breath is rough,
To thee, my country! whom before, as now,
I loved and love, devote the mournful lyre
And melancholy gift high powers allow
To read the future; and if now my fire

Is not as once it shone o'er thee, forgive!
I but foretell thy fortunes-then expire;
Think not that I would look on them and live.
A spirit forces me to see and speak,
And for my guerdon grants not to survive;
My heart shall be pour'd over thee and break:
Yet for a moment, ere I must resume
Thy sable web of sorrow, let me take
Over the gleams that flash athwart thy gloom

A softer glimpse; some stars shine through thy night,
And many meteors, and above thy tomb
Leans sculptured Beauty, which Death cannot blight;
And from thine ashes boundless spirits rise
To give thee honour, and the earth delight;
Thy soil shall still be pregnant with the wise,

The gay, the learn'd, the generous, and the brave,
Native to thee as summer to thy skies,
Conquerors on foreign shores, and the far wave, (1)|
Discoverers of new worlds, which take their name;(2)
For thee alone they have no arm to save,
And all thy recompense is in their fame,

A noble one to them, but not to thee--
Shall they be glorious, and thou still the same?
Oh! more than these illustrious far shall be

The being-and even yet he may be born--
The mortal saviour who shall set thee free,
And see thy diadem, so changed and worn

By fresh barbarians, on thy brow replaced;
And the sweet sun replenishing thy morn,
Thy moral morn, too long with clouds defaced
And noxious vapours from Avernus risen,
Such as all they must breathe who are debased
By servitude, and have the mind in prison.

Yet through this centuried eclipse of woe
Some voices shall be heard, and earth shall listen;
Poets shall follow in the path I show,

And make it broader; the same brilliant sky Which cheers the birds to song shall bid them glow, And raise their notes as natural and high;

Tuneful shall be their numbers; they shall sing
Many of love, and some of liberty,
But few shall soar upon that eagle's wing,

And look in the sun's face with eagle's gaze,
All free and fearless as the feather'd king,
But fly more near the earth; how many a phrase
Sublime shall lavish'd be on some small prince
In all the prodigality of praise!
And language, eloquently false, evince

The harlotry of genius, which, like beauty,
Too oft forgets its own self-reverence,

And looks on prostitution as a duty.

He who once enters in a tyrant's hall (3)

(1) Alexander of Parma, Spinola, Pescara, Eugene of Savoy, Montecuccoli.

(2) Columbus, Americus Vesputins, Sebastian Cabot. (3) A verse from the Greek tragedians, with which Pom

As guest is slave, his thoughts become a booty, And the first day which sees the chain enthral A captive, sees his half of manhood gone—(4) The soul's emasculation saddens all His spirit; thus the bard too near the throne Quails from his inspiration, bound to please,— How servile is the task to please alone! To smooth the verse to suit his sovereign's ease And royal leisure, nor too much prolong Aught save his eulogy, and find, and seize, Or force, or forge fit argument of song! [trebles, Thus trammell'd, thus condemn'd to Flattery's He toils through all, still trembling to be wrong: For fear some noble thoughts, like heavenly rebels, Should rise up in high-treason to his brain, He sings, as the Athenian spoke, with pebbles In's mouth, lest truth should stammer through his But out of the long file of sonneteers There shall be some who will not sing in vain, And he, their prince, shall rank among my peers, (5) And love shall be his torment; but his grief Shall make an immortality of tears,

And Italy shall hail him as the chief

[strain.

Of poet-lovers, and his higher song
Of Freedom wreathe him with as green a leaf.
But in a farther age shall rise, along

The banks of Po, two greater still than he;
The world which smiled on him shall do them wrong
Till they are ashes, and repose with me.
The first will make an epoch with his lyre,
And fill the earth with feats of chivalry:
His fancy like a rainbow, and his fire,
Like that of Heaven, immortal, and his thought
Borne onward with a wing that cannot tire:
Pleasure shall, like a butterfly new caught,

Flutter her lovely pinions o'er his theme, And Art itself seem into Nature wrought By the transparency of his bright dream.— The second, of a tenderer, sadder mood, Shall pour his soul out o'er Jerusalem; He, too, shall sing of arms and Christian blood Shed where Christ bled for man; and his high harp Shall, by the willow over Jordan's flood, Revive a song of Sion, and the sharp

Conflict, and final triumph of the brave And pious, and the strife of hell to warp Their hearts from their great purpose, until wave The red-cross banners where the first red cross Was crimson'd from his veins who died to save, Shall be his sacred argument; the loss

Of years, of favour, freedom, even of fame Contested for a time, while the smooth gloss Of courts would slide o'er his forgotten name, And call captivity a kindness, meant

To shield him from insanity or shame: Such shall be his meet guerdon! who was sent To be Christ's laureate-they reward him well! Florence dooms me but death or banishment, Ferrara him a pittance and a cell:

Harder to bear and less deserved, for I Had stung the factions which I strove to quell; But this meek man, who with a lover's eye

Will look on earth and heaven, and who will deig

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To embalm with his celestial flattery
As poor a thing as e'er was spawn'd to reign,
What will he do to merit such a doom?
Perhaps he'll love,-and is not love in wain
Torture enough, without a living tomb?
Yet it will be so-he and his compeer,
The Bard of Chivalry, will both consume
penury and pain too many a year,
And, dying in despondency, bequeath

To the kind world, which scarce will yield a tear,

A beritage enriching all who breathe

With the wealth of a genuine poet's soul,
And to their country a redoubled wreath
match'd by time; not Hellas can unroll

Through her Olympiads two such names, though one
Of hers be mighty;-and is this the whole
Of such men's destiny beneath the sun? (1)
Must all the finer thoughts, the thrilling sense,
The electric blood with which their arteries run,
Their body's self-tuned soul with the intense

Feeling of that which is, and fancy of

That which should be, to such a recompense
Conduct? shall their bright plumage on the rough
Storm be still scatter'd? Yes, and it must be,
For, form'd of far too penetrable stuff,
These birds of paradise but long to flee

Back to their native mansion, soon they find
Earth's mist with their pure pinions not agree,
And die or are degraded, for the mind

Succumbs to long infection, and despair,
And vulture passions flying close behind,
Await the moment to assail and tear;

And when at length the winged wanderers stoop,
Then is the prey-birds' triumph, then they share
The spoil, o'erpower'd at length by one fell swoop.
Yet some have been untouch'd who learn'd to bear,
Some whom no power could ever force to droop,
Who could resist themselves even, hardest care!
And task most hopeless; but some such have been,
And if my name amongst the number were,
That destiny austere, and yet serene,

Were prouder than more dazzling fame unbless'd;
The Alp's snow summit nearer heaven is seen
Than the volcano's fierce eruptive crest,

Whose splendour from the black abyss is flung,
While the scorch'd mountain, from whose burning
breast

A temporary torturing flame is wrung,

Shines for a night of terror, then repels

Its fire back to the hell from whence it sprung, The hell which in its entrails ever dwells.

CANTO IV.

Y are poets who have never penn'd
Their inspiration, and perchance the best:

"Why is it necessary to adopt the invidious and too mon practice of weighing the transcendent talents of rost and Tasso in opposite, and as it were contending, s? Reader! if you have already had the delight of persing the last production of Lord Byron's muse, how

you have admired those exquisitely beautiful and affecting portraitures of the two matchless poets which acade the third canto of the Prophecy of Dante! We bere see them contrasted without such invidious comparior depreciation of the one to exalt the other; and characterised in numbers, style, and sentiment, so wonderfully Latesque, that-mastering our uncongenial language, and

They felt, and loved, and died, but would not lend
Their thoughts to meaner beings; they compress'd
The god within them, and rejoin'd the stars
Unlaurell'd upon earth, but far more blest
Than those who are degraded by the jars

Of passion, and their frailties link'd to fame,
Conquerors of high renown, but full of scars.
Many are poets, but without the name;

For what is poesy but to create
From overfeeling good or ill; and aim
At an external life beyond our fate,

And be the new Prometheus of new men,
Bestowing fire from heaven, and then, too late,
Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain,
And vultures to the heart of the bestower,
Who, having lavish'd his high gift in vain,
Lies chain'd to his lone rock by the sea-shore?
So be it: we can bear.-But thus all they
Whose intellect is an o'ermastering power,
Which still recoils from its encumbering clay
Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoe'er
The form which their creations may essay,
Are bards; the kindled marble's bust may wear
More poesy upon its speaking brow

Than aught less than the Homeric page may bear;
One noble stroke with a whole life may glow,
Or deify the canvass till it shine
With beauty so surpassing all below,
That they who kneel to idols so divine

Break no commandment, for high heaven is there
Transfused, transfigurated: and the line

Of poesy, which peoples but the air

With thought and beings of our thought reflected,
Can do no more: then let the artist share
The palm, he shares the peril, and dejected

Faints o'er the labour unapproved--Alas!
Despair and Genius are too oft connected.
Within the ages which before me pass

Art shall resume and equal even the sway
Which with Apelles and old Phidias
She held in Hellas' unforgotten day.

Ye shall be taught by Ruin to revive
The Grecian forms at least from their decay,
And Roman souls at last again shall live
In Roman works wrought by Italian hands,

And temples, loftier than the old temples, give
New wonders to the world; and while still stands
The austere Pantheon, into heaven shall soar
A dome, (2) its image, while the base expands
Into a fane surpassing all before,

Such as all flesh shall flock to kneel in: ne'er
Such sight hath been unfolded by a door

As this, to which all nations shall repair,
And lay their sins at this huge gate of heaven.
And the bold Architect unto whose care

The daring charge to raise it shall be given,

Whom all arts shall acknowledge as their lord, (3)
Whether into the marble chaos driven

habitual modes of thought as well as expression-they seem
to have been inspired by the very genius of the inarrivabile
Dante himself." Glenbervie, Ricciardetto, p. 106.--L. E.
(2) The cupola of St. Peter's.

(3) "If," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, "the high admiration and esteem in which Michael Angelo has been held by all nations, and in all ages, should be put to the account of prejudice, it must still be granted that those prejudices could not have been entertained without a cause: the ground of our prejudice then becomes the source of our admiration. But from whatever it proceeds, or whatever it is called, it will not, I hope, be thought presumptuous in me to appear

His chisel bid the Hebrew, (1) at whose word
Israel left Egypt, stop the waves in stone,
Or hues of hell be by his pencil pour'd
Over the damn'd before the Judgment-throne, (2)
Such as I saw them, such as all shall see,
Or fanes be built of grandeur yet unknown,
The stream of his great thoughts shall spring from
me, (3)

The Ghibelline, who traversed the three realms
Which form the empire of eternity.

Amidst the clash of swords, and clang of helms,

The age which I anticipate, no less Shall be the Age of Beauty, and while whelms Calamity the nations with distress,

The genius of my country shall arise, A cedar towering o'er the wilderness, Lovely in all its branches to all eyes,

Fragrant as fair, and recognised afar, Wafting its native incense through the skies. Sovereigns shall pause amidst their sport of war, Wean'd for an hour from blood, to turn and gaze On canvass or on stone; and they who mar All beauty upon earth, compell'd to praise,

Shall feel the power of that which they destroy;

in the train, I cannot say of his imitators, but of his admirers. I have taken another course, one more suited to my abilities, and to the taste of the times in which I live. Yet, however unequal I feel myself to that attempt, were I now to begin the world again, I would tread in the steps of that great master. To kiss the hem of his garment, to catch the slightest of his perfections, would be glory and distinction enough for an ambitious man." Sir Joshua Reynolds's Discourses, vol ii., p. 216.-L. E.

(1) The statue of Moses, on the monument of Julius II.

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"And who is he that, shaped in sculptured stone,
Sits giant-like? stern monument of art
Unparallel'd, while language seems to start
From his prompt lips, and we his precepts own?
-'T is Moses; by his beard's thick honours known,
And the twin-beams that from his temples dart;
'Tis Moses; seated on the mount apart,
Whilst yet the Godhead o'er his features shone.
Such once he look'd, when ocean's sounding wave
Suspended hung, and such amidst the storm,
When o'er his foes the refluent waters roar'd.
An idol calf his followers did engrave;

But had they raised this awe-commanding form,
Then had they with less guilt their work adored."
Rogers.-L. E.

(2) The Last Judgment, in the Sistine Chapel.-["It is obvious, throughout Michael Angelo's works, that the poetical mind of Dante influenced his feelings. The demons in the Last Judgment, with all their mixed and various passions, may find a prototype in La Divina Commedia. The figures rising from the grave mark his study of· L'Inferno e il Purgatorio; and the subject of the Brazen Serpent, in the Sistine Chapel, must remind every reader of canto xxv. dell' Inferno, where the flying serpents, the writhings and contortions of the human body from envenomed wounds, are described with pathos and horror; and the execution of Haman, in the opposite angle of the same ceiling, is doubtless designed from these lines,—

'Poi piovve dentro all' alta fantasia
Un crocifisso dispettoso e fiero

And Art's mistaken gratitude shall raise To tyrants who but take her for a toy Emblems and monuments, and prostitute Her charms to pontiffs proud, (4) who but employ The man of genius as the meanest brute To bear a burthen, and to serve a need, To sell his labours, and his soul to boot. Who toils for nations may be poor indeed,

But free; who sweats for monarchs is no more Than the gilt chamberlain, who, clothed and fee'd Stands sleek and slavish, bowing at his door. Oh, Power, that rulest and inspirest! how Is it that they on earth, whose earthly power Is likest thine in heaven in outward show, Least like to thee in attributes divine, Tread on the universal necks that bow, And then assure us that their rights are thine? And how is it that they, the sons of fame, Whose inspiration seems to them to shine From high, they whom the nations oftest name, Must pass their days in penury or pain, Or step to grandeur through the paths of shame, And wear a deeper brand and gaudier chain? Or if their destiny be born aloof

Nella sua vista, e cotal si moria.
Intorno ed esso era 'l grande Assuero

Ester sua sposa, e 'l giusto Mardochen,

Che fu al dire ed al far cosi 'ntero.""" Duppa-LE! (3) I bave read somewhere (if I do not err, for I can recollect where,) that Dante was so great a favourite Michael Angelo's, that he had designed the whole of Divina Commedia; but that the volume containing the studies was lost by sea.-{" Michael Angelo's copy of Dant says Duppa, "was a large folio, with Landino's commer ary; and upon the broad margin of the leaves he designe with a pen and ink, all the interesting subjects. This h was possessed by Antonio Montauti, a sculptor and archit of Florence, who, being appointed architect to St. Peter removed to Rome, and shipped his effects at Leghorn Civita Vecchia, among which was this edition of Dante: the voyage the vessel foundered at sea, and it was a tunately lost in the wreck."-L. E.]

(4) See the treatment of Michael Angelo by Julias and his neglect by Leo X.-[Julius II. was no sooner se on the papal throne than he was surrounded by men of nius, and Michael Angelo was among the first invited to court. The Pope had a personal attachment to him. conversed with him upon every subject, as well as sculpti with familiarity and friendship; and, that he might him frequently, and with perfect convenience, caused a vered bridge to be made from the Vatican palace to study, to enable him to pass at all times without b observed. On paying his visit one morning, Michael gelo was rudely interrupted by the person in waiting, said, "I have an order not to let you enter." Mi felt with indignation this unmerited disgrace, and, in warmth of resentment, desired him to tell the Pope, " that time forward, if his Holiness should want him should have to seek him in another place." On his re home, he ordered his servants to sell the furniture T house to the Jews, and to follow him to Florence. Him the same evening, took post, and arrived at Pogg castle, in Tuscany, before he rested. The Pope despa five couriers, with orders to conduct him back: but he not overtaken until he was in a foreign state. A reett ation was, however, a few months after, effected at Bo through the mediation of the gonfaloniere. As Michae gelo entered the presence chamber, the Pope gave hi askance look of displeasure, and after a short pause sa him, "In the stead of your coming to us, you seem to expected that we should wait upon you." Michael A replied, with submission, that his error arose from too ily feeling a disgrace that he was unconscious of mer and hoped his Holiness would pardon what was past. Pope thereupon gave him his benediction, and restored to his friendship. The whole reign of Leo X. was a in the life of Michael Angelo. Duppa.-L. E.]

From lowliness, or tempted thence in vain, In their own souls sustain a harder proof,

The inner war of passions deep and fierce? Florence! when thy harsh sentence razed my roof, I loved thee; but the vengeance of my verse, The hate of injuries which every year Makes greater, and accumulates my curse, Shall live, outliving all thou holdest dear,

Thy pride, thy wealth, thy freedom, and even that, The most infernal of all evils here,

The sway of petty tyrants in a state;

For such sway is not limited to kings,
And demagogues yield to them but in date,
As swept off sooner; in all deadly things

Which make men hate themselves, and one another,
In discord, cowardice, cruelty, all that springs
From Death the Sin-born's incest with his mother,
In rank oppression in its rudest shape,
The faction chief is but the sultan's brother,
And the worst despot's far less human ape:
Florence! when this lone spirit, which so long
Yearn'd, as the captive toiling at escape,
To fly back to thee in despite of wrong,
An exile, saddest of all prisoners, (1)

(I) In his Convito, Dante speaks of his banishment, and the poverty and distress which attended it, in very affecting terms:-"Alas!" said he, “had it pleased the Dispenser of the Universe that the occasion of this excuse had never existed; that neither others had committed wrong against me, nor I suffered unjustly; suffered, I say, the punishment of exile and of poverty; since it was the pleasure of the citi rens of that fairest and most renowned daughter of Rome, Floreace, to cast me forth out of her sweet bosom, in which I had my birth and nourishment, even to the ripeness of my age, and in which, with her good-will, I desire, with all my heart, to rest this wearied spirit of mine, and to terminate the time allotted to me on earth. Wandering over almost every part, to which this our language extends, I have gone about like a mendicant, showing against my will the wound with which fortune has smitten me, and which is often imputed to his ill-deserving on whom it is inflicted. I have, indeed, been a vessel without sail and without steerage, carried about to divers ports, and roads, and shores, by the dry wind that springs out of sad poverty, and have appeared before the eyes of many who, perhaps, from some report that had reached them, had imagined me of a different form; in whose sight not only my person was disparaged, but every action of mine became of less value, as well those already performed, as those which yet remained for me to attempt."-L. E.

(2) About the year 1316, the friends of Dante succeeded in obtaining his restoration to his country and his possesBons, on condition that he should pay a certain sum of money, and, entering a church, there avow himself guilty, and ask pardon of the republic. The following was his answer, on this occasion, to one of his kinsmen:-" From your letter, which I received with due respect and affection, I observe how much you have at heart my restoration to my country. I am bound to you the more gratefully, that an exile rarely finds a friend. But, after mature consideration, I must, by my answer, disappoint the wishes of some little minds; and I confide in the judgment to which your impartiality and prudence will lead you. Your nephew and mine has written to me, what indeed had been mentioned by many other friends, that, by a decree concerning the eules, I am allowed to return to Florence, provided I pay a certain sum of money, and submit to the humiliation of asking and receiving absolution: wherein, my father, I see two propositions that are ridiculous and impertinent. I speak of the impertinence of those who mention such conditions to me: for in your letter, dictated by judgment and discretion, there is no such thing. Is such an invitation to return to his country glorious for Dante, after suffering in exile almost fifteen years? Is it thus, then, they would recompense innocence which all the world knows, and the labour and fatigue of unremitting study? Far from the man who is familiar with philosophy be the senseless baseness of

Who has the whole world for a dungeon strong, Seas, mountains, and the horizon's verge for bars, Which shut him from the sole small spot of earth Where whatsoe'er his fate-he still were hers, His country's, and might die where he had birth— Florence! when this lone spirit shall return To kindred spirits, thou wilt feel my worth, And seek to honour with an empty urn

The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain (2)-Alas! "What have I done to thee, my people?" (3) Stern Are all thy dealings, but in this they pass

The limits of man's common malice, for
All that a citizen could be I was;

Raised by thy will, all thine in peace or war,
And for this thou hast warr'd with me.-'
-"Tis done:
I may not overleap the eternal bar
Built up between us, and will die alone,
Beholding with the dark eye of a seer
The evil days to gifted souls foreshown,
Foretelling them to those who will not hear,
As in the old time, till the hour be come
When Truth shall strike their eyes through many

a tear,

And make them own the Prophet in his tomb. (4)

a heart of earth, that could do like a little sciolist, and imitate the infamy of some others, by offering himself up as it were in chains. Far from the man who cries aloud for justice this compromise, by his money, with his persecutors! No, my father, this is not the way that shall lead me back to my country. But I shall return with hasty steps, if you or any other can open to me a way that shall not derogate from the fame and honour of Dante; but if by no such way Florence can be entered, then Florence I shall never enter. What! shall I not every where enjoy the sight of the sun and stars? and may I not seek and contemplate, in every corner of the earth under the canopy of heaven, consoling and delightful truth, without first rendering myself inglorious, nay infamous, to the people and republic of Florence? Bread, I hope, will not fail me." Yet he continued to experience

"How salt the savour is of others' bread,
How hard the passage to descend and climb
By others' stairs!"

His countrymen persecuted even his memory: he was excommunicated after death by the Pope.-L. E.

(3) "E scrisse più volte non solamente a particolari cittadini del reggimento, ma ancora al popolo, e intra l' altre una epistola assai lunga che comincia: Popule mi, quid feci tibi?'"-Vita di Dante, scritta da Lionardo Aretino.

(4) Dante died at Ravenna in 1321, in the palace of his patron, Guido Novello da Polenta, who testified his sorrow and respect by the sumptuousness of his obsequies, and by giving orders to erect a monument, which he did not live to complete. His countrymen showed, too late, that they knew the value of what they had lost. At the beginning of the next century, they entreated that the mortal remains of their illustrious citizen might be restored to them, and deposited among the tombs of their fathers. But the people of Ravenna were unwilling to part with the sad and honourable memorial of their own hospitality. No better success attended the subsequent negotiations of the Florentines for the same purpose, though renewed under the auspices of Leo X., and conducted through the powerful mediation of Michael Angelo.

Never did any poem rise so suddenly into notice, after the death of its author, as the Divina Commedia. About the year 1350, Giovanni Visconti, Archbishop of Milan, selected six of the most learned men in Italy.-two divines, two philosophers, and two Florentines,-and gave them in charge to contribute their joint endeavours towards the compilation of an ample comment, a copy of which is preserved in the Laurentian library. At Florence, a public lecture was founded for the purpose of explaining a poem, which was at the same time the boast and the disgrace of the city. The decree for this institution was passed in 1373; and in that year Boccaccio was appointed, with a salary of a hundred florins, to deliver lectures in one of the churches

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Is it over?

Tra. Ink. Nor will be this hour. But the benches are cramm'd, like a garden in flower, With the pride of our belles, who have made it the fashion; [passion" So, instead of "beaux arts," we may say "la belle For learning, which lately has taken the lead in The world, and set all the fine gentlemen reading.

Tra. I know it too well, and have worn out my patience

With studying to study your new publications. There's Vamp, Scamp, and Mouthy, and Wordswords and Co. (2)

With their damnable

Ink. Hold, my good friend, do you know Whom you speak to? Tra. Right well, boy, and so does "the Row:"(3) You're an author-a poet

on the first of their poets. The example of Florence was speedily followed by Bologna, Pisa, Piacenza, and Venice. It is only within a few years, that the merits of this great and original poet were attended to and made known in this country. And this seems to be owing to a translation of the very pathetic story of Count Ugolino; to the judicious and spirited summary given of this poem in the 31st section of the History of English Poetry; and to Mr. Hayley's translations of the three cantos of the Inferno. "Dante believed," says Ugo Foscolo, "that, by his sufferings on earth, he atoned for the errors of humanity

Ma la bontà divina ha si gran braccia,
Che prende ciò che si rivolge a lei.'
So wide arms

Hath goodness infinite, that it receives
All who turn to it.'--

And he seems to address Heaven in the attitude of a worshipper, rather than a suppliant. Being convinced that Man is then truly happy when he freely exercises all his energies,' he walked through the world with an assured step, 'keeping his vigils '

So that nor night nor slumber with close stealth
Conveyed from him a single step in all
The goings on of time.'

He collected the opinions, the follies, the vicissitudes, the miseries, and the passions that agitate mankind; and left behind him a monument which, while it humbles us by the representation of our own wretchedness, should make us glory that we partake of the same nature with such a man, and encourage us to make the best use of our fleeting existence."-L. E.

(1) This trifle, which Lord Byron has himself designated as "a mere buffoonery, never meant for publication," was written in 1820, and first appeared in The Liberal. The personal allusions in which it abounds are, for the most

Can stand tamely in silence, to hear you decry
The Muses?
Tra.

Excuse me: I meant no offence

To the Nine; though the number who make some

pretence

To their favours is such--But, the subject to drop,
I am just piping hot from a publisher's shop
(Next door to the pastry-cook's; so that when I
Cannot find the new volume I wanted to buy
On the bibliopole's shelves, it is only two paces,
As one finds every author in one of those places);
Where I just had been skimming a charming critique,
So studded with wit, and so sprinkled with Greek!
Where your friend-you know who-has just got
such a threshing,

That it is, as the phrase goes, extremely “refreshing.”
What a beautiful word! (4)

Ink. Very true; 'tis so soft And so cooling-they use it a little too oft; And the papers have got it at last-but no matter. So they've cut up our friend then? Tra.

Not left him a tatterNot a rag of his present or past reputation,

part, sufficiently intelligible; and, with a few exceptions, so good-humoured, that the parties concerned may be e pected to join in the laugh.

"About the year 1781, it was much the fashion for several ladies to have evening assemblies, where the fair sex might participate in conversation with literary and ingenious men, animated by a desire to please. These societies were denominated Blue-stocking Clubs; the origin of which title being little known, it may be worth while to relate it. One of the most eminent members of those societies, when they first commenced, was Mr. Stillingfleet, whose dress was remarkably grave, and in particular it was observed that he wore blue stockings. Such was the excellence of his conversation, and his absence was felt as so great a loss, that it used to be said, We can do nothing without the blue-stockings,' and thus by degrees the title was established." Croker's Boswell, vol. iv. p. 489. Sir William Forbes, in his Life of Dr. Beattie, says, that a foreigner of distinction hearing the expression, translated it literally Bas Bleu,' by which these meetings came to be distinguished. Miss Hannah More, who was herself s member, has written a poem with the title of Bas Bleu, in allusion to this mistake of the foreigner, in which she ha characterised most of the eminent personages of which i was composed.”—L. E

(2) See the stanzas on Messrs. Wordsworth and Southey in Don Juan.-L. E.

(3) Paternoster-row-long and still celebrated as a very bazaar of booksellers. Sir Walter Scott "hitches int rhyme" one of the most important firms—that

"Of Longman, Hurst, Rees, Orme, and Brown,
Our fathers of the Row."-L. E.

(4) This cant phrase was first used in the Edinburgh Re view-probably by Mr. Jeffrey.-L. E.

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