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(A hollow archway by the sun unseen,
Save through the billows' glassy veil of green,
In some transparent ocean holiday,
When all the finny people are at play,)
Wiped with her hair the brine from Torquil's eyes,
And clapp'd her hands with joy at his surprise;
Led him to where the rock appear'd to jut,
And form a something like a Triton's hut;
For all was darkness for a space, till day,
Through clefts above let in a sober'd ray;
As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle
The dusty monuments from light recoil,
Thus sadly in their refuge submarine
The vault drew half her shadow from the scene.

VJI.

Forth from her bosom the young savage drew
A pine-torch, strongly girded with gnatoo;
A plantain-leaf o'er all, the more to keep
Its latent sparkle from the sapping deep.
This mantle kept it dry; then from a nook
of the same plantain-leaf a flint she took,
A few shrunk wither'd twigs, and from the blade
Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus array'd
The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high,
And show'd a self-born Gothic canopy;
The arch upreard by nature's architect,
The architrave some earthquake might erect;
The buttress from some mountain's bosom burld,
When the poles crash’d, and water was the world;
Or harden'd from some earth-absorbing fire,
While yet the globe reek'd from its funeral pyre;
The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave, (1)
Were there, all scoop'd by Darkness from her cave.
There, with a little tinge of fantasy,
Fantastic faces mop'd and mowd on high,
And then a mitre or a shrine would fix
The eye upon its seeming crucifix:

Thus Nature play'd with the stalactites,
And built herself a chapel of the seas.

VIII.
| And Neuba took her Torquil by the hand,

And waved along the vault her kindled brand,
And led him into each recess, and show'd
The secret places of their new abode.
Nor these alone, for all had been prepared
Before, to soothe the lover's lot she shared:
The mat for rest; for dress the fresh goatoo,
And sandal-oil to fence against the dew;
For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread
Borne of the fruit; for board the plantain spread
With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell which bore
A banquet in the flesh it cover'd o'er;
The gourd with water recent from the rill,
The ripe banana from the mellow hill;
A pine-torch pile to keep undying light,
And she herself, as beautiful as night,
To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene,
And make their subterranean world serene.
She had foreseen, since first the stranger's sail
Drew to their isle, that force or flight might fail,
And form’d a refuge of the rocky den
For Torquil's safety from his countrymen.
Each dawn had wafted there her light canoe,
Laden with all the golden fruits that grew;
Each eve had seen her gliding through the bour
With all could cheer or deck their sparry bower;
And now she spread her little store with smiles,
The happiest daughter of the loving isles.

IX.
She, as he gazed with grateful wonder, pressid
Her shelter'd love to her impassion'd breast;
And, suited to her soft caresses, told
An olden tale of love,- for love is old,

thought, to go into this cavern and drink cava. Mr. Mari | mined the place, they drank cara, and passed away ner was not with them at the time this proposal was made ; time in conversation upon different subjects." The acom but happening to come down a little while after to the proceeds to state that the mode in which the camera shore, and seeing some of the young chiefs diving into the discovered, and the interesting use made of the retres water one after another, and not rise again, he was a little the young chief who found it out, were related by ose surprised, and inquired of the last, wbo was just preparing matabooles present. According to his statement, the to take the same step, wbat they were about! "Follow me,” family of a certain chief had been in former times conden said he, “and I will take you where you have never been ed to death in consequence of his conspiring against before ; and where Finow, and bis chiefy and matabooles, rannical governor of the island. One of the devoted to are now assembled.” Mr. Mariner, without any further was a beautiful daughter, to whom the young chief 19 hesitation, prepared bimself to follow his companion, who accidentally discovered the cave had long been ari dived into the water, and be after him, and, guided by the attached. On learning her danger, he bethought was light reflected from his heels, entered the opening in the of this retreat, to which he easily persuaded ber to say rock, and rose into the cavern. He was no sooner above pany him, and she remained concealed within it, occas the surface of the water than, sure enough! he heard the ally enjoying the society of her lover, until he was eral voices of the king and his friends; being directed by his to carry her off to the Fiji islands, where they remaine guide, be climbed upon a jutting portion of rock and sat til the death of the governor enabled them to retorno down. The light was sufficient, after remaining about five only part of this romantic tale which seemed very IP minutes, to show objects with some little distinctness; and bable was the length of time which the girl was said he could discover Finow and the rest of the company seat. have remained in the cavern, two or three months. To ed, like himself, round the cavern. Nevertheless, as it was certain whether this was possible, Mr. Mariner este desirable to have a stronger illumination, Mr. Mariner

to nave a stronger illumination, Mr. Mariner | every part of it, but without discovering any opening. dived out again, and procuring his pistol, primed it well, story be true, in all likelihood the duration of ber stay tied plenty of gnatoo tight round it, and wrapped the whole cavern was not much more than one foarth of the time up in a plantain-leaf; he directed an attendant to bring a tioned; as the space would not contain a quautity torch in the same way. Thus prepared, he re-entered the sufficient for the respiration of an individual for a cavern, unwrapped the inatoo, a great portion of which period.-P.E.) was perfectly dry, fired it by the flash of the powder, and ( This may seem too minute for the general cottis lighted the torch. The place was now illuminated tole. | Mariner's Account) from which it is taken. Bet toe

the tradrably well, for the first time, perhaps, since its existence. I have travelled without seeing something of the tri It appeared (by guess) to be about forty feet wide in the land, that is. Without adverting to Ellora, in Muogo main part, but which branched off, on one side, in two | last journal, he mentions having met with a rock oras narrower portions. The medium height seemed also about | tain 80 exactly resembling a Gothic cathedral, that forty feet. The roof was hung with stalactites in a very | minute inspection could convince him that it was curious way, resembling, upon a cursory view, the Gothic of nature. arches and ornaments of an old church. After baving exa.

Old as eternity, but not outworn

XI.
With each new being born or to be born :(1)
How a young chief, a thousand moons ago,

They landed on a wild but narrow scene,
Diving for turtle in the depths below,

Where few but Nature's footsteps yet had been; Had risen, in tracking fast his ocean prey,

Prepared their arms, and with that gloomy eye, Into the cave which round and o'er them lay;

Stern and sustain'd, of man's extremity, How in some desperate feud of after-time

When hope is gone, nor glory's self remains He shelter'd there a daughter of the clime,

To cheer resistance against death or chains,A foe beloved, and offspring of a foe,

They stood, the three, as the three hundred stood Saved by his tribe but for a captive's woe;

Who dyed Thermopyläe with holy blood. | How, when the storm of war was still’d, he led But, ah! how different! 'tis the cause makes all, His island clan to where the waters spread

Degrades or hallows courage in its fall. Their deep-green shadow o'er the rocky door, O'er them no fame, eternal and intense, | Then dived-it seem'd as if to rise no more:

Blazed through the clouds of death and beckon'd hence;
His wondering mates, amazed within their bark, No grateful country, smiling through her tears,
Or deem'd him mad, or prey to the blue shark; Began the praises of a thousand years ;
Row'd round in sorrow the sea-girded rock,

No nation's eyes would on their tomb be bent,
Then paused upon their paddles from the shock; No heroes envy them their monument;
When, fresh and springing from the deep, they saw However boldly their warm blood was spilt,
A goddess rise—so deem'd they in their awe; Their life was shame, their epitaph was guilt.
And their companion, glorious by her side,

And this they knew and felt, at least the one,
Pruud and exulting in his mermaid bride;

The leader of the band he had undone; And how, when undeceived, the pair they bore Who, born perchance for better things, bad set With sounding conchs and joyous shouts to shore; His life upon a cast which linger'd yet: How they had gladly lived and calmly died,

But now the die was to be thrown, and all And why not also Torquil and his bride?

The chances were in favour of his fall: Not mine to tell the rapturous caress

And such a fall! But still he faced the shock, Which follow'd wildly in that wild recess

Obdurate as a portion of the rock
This tale; enough that all within that cave

Whereon he stood, and fix'd his levell'd gun,
Was love, though buried strong as in the grave Dark as a sullen cloud before the sun.
Where Abelard, through twenty years of death,
When Eloisa's form was lower'd beneath

XII.
Hier nuptial vault, his arms outstretch'd, and press'd | The boat drew nigh, well arm’d, and firm the crew
The kindling asbes to his kindled breast. (2)

To act whatever duty bade them do; The waves without sang round their couch, their roar

Careless of danger, as the onward wind As much unheeded as if life were o'er;

Is of the leaves it strews, nor looks behind. Within, their hearts made all their harmony,

And yet perhaps they rather wish'd to go
Lave's broken murmur and more broken sigh. Against a nation's than a native foe,

And felt that this poor victim of self-will,
X.

Briton no more, had once been Britain's still.
ded they, the cause and sharers of the shock They hail'd him to surrender -no reply;
Which left them exiles of the hollow rock,

Their arms were poised, and glitter'd in the sky. Where were they? O'er the sea for life they plied, They hail'd again--no answer; yet once more to seek from Heaven the shelter men denied. They offer'd quarter louder than before. Auther course had been their choice but where? The echoes only, from the rock's rebound, The wave which bore them still their foes would bear, Took their last farewell of the dying sound. Who, disappointed of their former chase,

Then flash'd the flint, and blazed the volleying flame, search of Christian now renew'd their race. And the smoke rose between them and their aim, ager with anger, their strong arms made way, While the rock rattled with the bullets' knell, ike vultures baffled of their previous prey.

Which peal'd in vain, and flatten'd as they fell; bey gain'd upon them, all whose safety lay

Then flew the only answer to be given 2 some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay:

By those who had lost all hope in earth or heaven. o further chance or choice remain'd; and right After the first fierce peal, as they pulld nigher, for the first further rock which met their sight They heard the voice of Christian shout, “ Now, fire!" They steer’d, to take their latest view of land, And, ere the word upon the echo died, And yield as victims, or die sword in hand;

Two fell; the rest assail'd the rock's rough side, Dismiss'd the natives and their shallop, who

And, furious at the madness of their foes, . Would still have battled for that scanty crew; Disdain'd all further efforts, save to close.

ut Christian bade them seek their shore again, But steep the crag, and all without a path, Aor add a sacrifice which were in vain;

Each step opposed a bastion to their wrath, for what were simple bow and savage spear

While, placed 'midst clefts the least accessible, Against the arms which must be wielded here? Which Christian's eye was train'd to mark full well,

EU The reader will recollect the epigram of the Greek
Authology, or its translation into most of the modern lan-

The tradition is attached to the story of Eloisa, that when her body was lowered into the grave of Abelard (who had been buried twenty years), be opened his arms to receive her.

"Whoe'er thou art, thy master see

He was, or is, or is to be."

XIV.

e three maintain'd a strife which must not vield. But calm and careless heaved the wave below. In spots where eagles might have chosen to build. Eternal, with unsympathetic flow; Their every shot told; while the assailant fell, Far o'er its face the dolphins sported on, Dash'd on the shingles like the limpet-shell ;

And sprung the flying-fish against the sun, But still enough survived, and mounted still, | Till its dried wing relapsed from its brief height, Scattering their numbers here and there, until To gather moisture for another flight. Surrounded and commanded, though not nigh Enough for seizure, near enough to die, The desperate trio beld aloof their fate

'T was murn; and Neuha, who by dawn of day But by a thread, like sharks who have gorged the bait; Swam smoothly forth to catch the rising ray, | Yet to the very last they battled well,

And watch if aught approach'd the amphibions lair And not a groan inform'd their foes who fell.

Where lay her lover, saw a sail in air: Christian died last-twice wounded; and once more It flapp'd, it fill’d, and to the growing gale Mercy was offer'd when they saw his gore;

Bent its broad arch: her breath began to fail Too late for life, but not too late to die,

With fluttering fear, her heart beat thick and bigh, With, though a hostile hand, to close his eye. While yet a doubt sprung where its course might lie A limb was broken, and he droop'd along

But no! it came not; fast and far away The crag, as doth a falcon rest of young.

The shadow lessen'd as it clear'd the bay. The sound revived him, or appear'd to wake

She gazed, and flung the sea-foam from her eyes, Some passion which a weakly gesture spake:

To watch as for a rainbow in the skies. He beckon'd to the foremost, who drew nigh,

On the horizon verged the distant deck, But, as they near’d, he rear'd his weapon high Diminish'd, dwindled to a very speckHis last ball had been aim'd, but from his breast Then vanish'd. All was ocean, all was joy! He tore the topmost button from his vest, (1)

Down plunged she through the cave to roose ber boy Down the tube dash'd it, levell’d, fired, and smiled Told all she had seen, and all she hoped, and all As his foe fell; then, like a serpent, coild

That happy love could augur or recall; His wounded weary form, to where the steep

Sprung forth again, with Torquil, following free Look'd desperate as himself along the deep;

His bounding nereid over the broad sea; Cast one glance back, and clench'd his hand, and shook Swam round the rock, to where a shallow cleft His last rage 'gainst the earth which he forsook ; Hid the canoe that Neuha there had left Then plunged : the rock below received like glass Drifting along the tide, without an oar, His body crush'd into one gory mass,

That eve the strangers chased them from the shore; With scarce a shred to tell of human form,

But when these vanish'd, she pursued her prow, Or fragment for the sea-bird or the worm;

Regain'd, and urged to where they found it now: A fair-hair'd scalp, besmear’d with blood and weeds, Nor ever did more love and joy embark, Yet reek'd, the remnant of himself and deeds ; Than now were wafted in that slender ark. Some splinters of his weapons (to the last, As long as hand could hold, he held them fast)

xv. Yet glitter'd, but at distance-hursd away

Again their own shore rises on the view, To rust beneath the dew and dashing spray.

No more polluted with a hostile bue; The rest was nothing--save a life mis-spent,

No sullen ship lay bristling o'er the foam, And soul- but who shall answer where it went?

A floating dungeon :-all was hope and home! 'Tis ours to bear, not judge the dead; and they

A thousand proas darted o'er the bay, Who doom to hell, themselves are on the way:

With sounding shells, and heralded their way; Unless these bullies of eternal pains

The chiefs came down, around the people pour'd, Are pardon'd their bad hearts for their worse brains.

And welcomed Torquil as a son restored;

The women throng'd embracing and embraced XIII.

By Neuba, asking where they had been chased, The deed was over! All were gone or ta’en, And how escaped ? The tale was told; and then The fugitive, the captive, or the slain.

One acclamation rent the sky again; Chain'd on the deck, where once, a gallant crew, And from that hour a new tradition gave They stood with honour, were the wretched few

Their sanctuary the name of "Neuha's Cave." Survivors of the skirmish on the isle;

A hundred fires, far-flickering from the height, Bat the last rock left no surviving spoil.

Blazed o'er the general revel of the night, Cold lay they where they fell, and weltering,

The feast in honour of the guest, return'd While o'er them flapp'd the sea-birds' dewy wing, To peace and pleasure, perilously earn'd; Now wheeling nearer from the neighbouring surge, A night succeeded by such happy days And screaming high their harsh and hungry dirge: As only the yet infant world displays. (2)

(1) In Thibault's account of Frederic the Second of Prus Frederic was filled with the greatest indignation, from sia, there is a singular relation of a young Frenchman, who curiosity or some other motive, when be understood with his mistress appeared to be of some rank. He enlisted | request had been denied. and deserted at Schweidnitz ; and after a desperate resist. (2) “ Byron! the sorcerer! He can do with me acon ance was retaken, having killed an officer, who attempted to bis will. If it is to throw me beadlong upon a ce to seize him after he was wounded, by the discharge of his l island; if it is to place me on the summit of a dirts musket loaded with a button of his uniform. Some circum I his power is the same. I wish be had a friend or a ser stances on his court-martial raised a great interest amongst I appointed to the office of the slave who was to knock his judges, who wished to discover his real situation in life, I morning at the chamber-door of Philip of Macedon, which he offered to disclose, but to the king only, to whom | mind him he was mortal.” Dr. Parr.-LE. he requested permission to write. Tbis was refused, and

Don Juan. (1)

“ Difficile est propriè commania dicere.”Horace, Epist. ad Pison. Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more Cakes and Ale?Yes, by Saint Anne, and Ginger shall be hot i' the mouth, too!

Shakspeare ; Twelfth Night, or What you will.

DEDICATION.

Boa SOUTREY! You're a poet-Poet-laureate,

And representative of all the race, Although 'tis true that you turn'd out a Tory at

Last,-yours has lately been a common case: And now, my Epic Renegade! what are ye at ?

With all the Lakers, in and out of place ?

| A nest of tuneful persons, to my eye Like " four-and-twenty Blackbirds in a pie;

II. “ Which pie being open'd they began to sing "

(This old song and new simile holds good), “A dainty dish to set before the king,"

Or Regent, who admires such kind of food; And Coleridge, too, has lately taken wing,

But like a hawk encumber'd with his hood,

(1) The first and second Cantos of Don Juan, were written B:Venice in 1818, and published in July, 1819, without name tither of author or bookseller; the third, fourth, and fifth,

Tere written at Ravenna, in 1819 and 1821, and published I la Angust of the latter year, still anonymously; the sixth, streuth, eighth, ninth, tenth, and eleventh, were written e Pisa, in 1822 and 1823, and published in July and Au

tast of the latter year; and the remaining five were written - Genoa, in 1823, and published in November 1823 and

March 1824. A Dedication, and several stanzas, hitherto rappressed, are now given in their proper places; and from two separate MSS. of the poet many curious various read

ings have been supplied. - In the notes to the Shiporeck in Canto II. we have en

deavoured to trace minutely the authorities which the poet bad before him when composing that extraordinary dekeription.

Lord Byron's temporary suspension of the poem when he hd finished Canto V., and the circumstances under which be resumed a very favourite plan twelve months afterwards, fare explained in the note introductory to Canto VI.

The extracts now appended to the Siege, in Cantos VII. and Vill. will, it is presumed, interest and perhaps surprise many readers. It will be seen that, throughout this powerful picture, the poet has relied on a literal transcript of recorded facts, with precisely the same feelings which had produced the terrible verisimilitude of his Shipwreck in Canto II.; and it mast please every one to know that those traits of graceful humanity, with which Don Juan's personal conduct is made to relieve the horrors of a Russian sack, are only a faithful copy of what was done in the moment of victory at Ismael, by a real "preux chevalier," the Duke of Richelien. Such additional particulars, respecting the production of

later Cantos, as may seem to deserve preservation, are en as the poem proceeds, as also some of the most strik.

passages of the poet's own letters with reference to this | performance; and in an Appendix, at the end of the poem, w be found a selection of the principal Testimonies of uthors and reviewers, elicited by the first publication of on Juan, together with two prose pieces referring thereto, de of which had not before been published.

u In the year 1799, while Lord Byron was the pupil of Dr. Glennie, at Dulwich, among the books that lay acces. sible to the boys was a pamphlet, entitled Narrative of the Shipwreck of the Juno on the coast of Arracan, in the Year 1795. The pamphlet attracted but little public attention; but, among the young students of Dulwich Grove it was a favourite study; and the impression which it left on the retentive mind of Byron may have had some share, perhaps, in suggesting that curious research through all the various accounts of Shipwrecks upon record, by which he prepared himself to depict, with such power, a scene of the same description in Don Juan, ... As to the charge of plagiarism brought against him by some scribblers of the day, for so doing, with as much justice might the Italian author, who wrote a Discourse on the Military Science displayed by Tasso in his battles, have reproached that poet with the sources from which he drew his knowledge ;-with as much justice might Puysegur and Segrais, who have pointed out the same merit in Homer and Virgil, have withheld their praise, because the science on which this merit was founded, must have been derived by the skill and industry of these poets from others. So little was Tasso ashamed of those casual imitations of other poets which are so often branded as plagiarisms, that, in his Commentary on his Rime, he takes pains to point out whatever coincidences of this kind occur in his own verses." - Moore.

“With regard to the charges about the Shipwreck, I think that I told you and Mr. Hobhouse, years ago, that there was not a single circumstance of it not taken from fact; not, indeed, from any single shipwreck, but all from actual facts of different wrecks." -Lord B. to Mr. Murray

“Of late, some persons have been nibbling at the reputation of Lord Byron, by charging him with plagiarism. There is a curious charge of this kind lately published, which redounds, in reality, to the noble author's credit. Every one who has looked into the sources from which Shakspeare took the stories of his plays, must know that, in Julius Cæsar and Coriolanus, he has taken whole dialogues, with remarkable exactness, from North's translation of Plutarch. Now, it is that very circumstance which im. presses those plays with the stamp of antique reality, which the general knowledge of the poet could not have enabled him to communicate to them.” Times.-L. E.

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extremetie hath now driven me to come as a poor suter, to take thy chimnie karth; not of any hope I have to save my life thereby, for if I had feared death, I would not have come hither to put myself in hazard."

• PLUTARCR. "Tam Caius Martins, who hath done to thy selfe particularly, and

beand painiu for net cannot

SMAKSPEARE. " My name is Caius Martius, who hath done

To the particularly, and to all the Volsces, Great hurt and mischief: thereto witness may My surname, Coriolanus . The painful service, The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood

the Polsces generally, great hurt and mischiefe, which I cannot

Jor my surname of Coriolanus that I beare. For I never had er benefit nor recompense of the true and painfull service I have me, and the extreme dangers I have bene in, but this onely sur me; a good memorie and witnesse of the malice and displeasure 4 shouldest bear me. Indeed, the name only remaineth with me : the rest, the envie and crueltie of the people of Rome have taken me, by the sufferance of the dastardly nobilitie and magistrates, ane forsaken me, and let me be banished by the people. That

from me, by the

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(1) Mr. Coleridge's Biographia Literaria appeared in 1817.-L.E.

(2) "When, some years ago, a gentleman, the chief writer and conductor of a celebrated review, distinguished by its hostility to Mr. Southey, spent a day or two at Keswick, be was circumstantially informed by what series of accidents it had happened, that Mr. Wordsworth, Mr. Southey, and I had become neighbours; and how utterly groundless was the supposition, that we considered ourselves as belonging to any common school but that of good sense, confirmed by the long-established models of the best times of Greece, Rome, Italy, and England; and still more groundless the notion that Mr. Southey (for, as to myself, I have published so little, and that little of so little importance, as to make it almost ludicrous to mention my name at all) could have been concerned in the formation of a poetic sect with Mr. Wordsworth, when so many of his works had been published, not only previously to any acquaintance between them, but before Mr. Wordsworth himself had written any thing but in a diction ornate, and uniformly sustained ;

Shed for my thankless country, are requited
Bat with that surname : a good memory,
And witness of the malice and displeasure
Which thou should'st bear me: only that name remains ;
The cruelty and envy of the people,
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who
Have all forsook me, hath deroured the rest;

wben, too, the slightest examination will make it evident that between those and the after-writings of Mr. Soatia there exists no other difference than that of a progresat degree of excellence, from progressive developement power, and progressive facility from habit and increase experience. Yet, among the first articles which this mu wrote after his return from Keswick, we were characterisce as the School of whining and hypochondriacal poets that haunt the Lakes.'Coleridge.-L. E.

(3) Mr. Southey is the only poet of the day that ever me: sided at Keswick. Mr. Wordsworth, wbo lived at one til on Grasmere, has for many years past occupied Mount Ry dal, near Ambleside: Professor Wilson possesses an elegan villa on Windermere: Coleridge, Lambe, Lloyd, and others classed by the Edinburgh Review in the Lake School, neret, we believe, had any connection with that part of the coun try.-L.E.

(4) Wordsworth's place may be in the Customs
ink, in that or the Excise-besides another at Lord Loat

And suffer'd me by the voice of slaves to be
Whoop'd out of Rome. Now, this extremity
Hath brought me to thy hearth. Not out of kope,
Mistake me not, to save my life; for if
I had fear'd death, of all men i' the world
I would have 'voided thee."

Coriolans, Act 4th, Scene th.

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