conduct his readers to the capital of the East, through Ionia and Phrygia: these two cantos are merely experimental.

A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some connection to the piece; which, however, makes no pretension to regularity. It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose opinions I set a high value, that in this fictitious character, "Childe Harold," I may incur the suspicion of having intended some real personage: this I beg leave, once for all, to disclaim-Harold is the child of imagination, for the purpose I have stated. In some very trivial particulars, and those merely local, there might be grounds for such a notion; but in the main points, I should hope, none whatever.

It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation "Childe," as "Childe Waters," "Childe Childers," etc. is used as more consonant with the old structure of versification which I have adopted. The "Good Night," in the beginning of the first canto, was suggested by "Lord Maxwell's Good Night," in the Border Minstrelsy, edited by Mr. Scott.

With the different poems which have been published on Spanish subjects, there may be found some slight coincidence in the first part, which treats of the peninsula, but it can only be casual; as, with the exception of a few concluding stanzas, the whole of this poem was written in the Levant.

The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most successful poets, admits of every variety. Dr. Beattie makes the following observation:-"Not long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination, and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me; for, if I mistake not, the measure which I have adopted admits equally of all these kinds of composition." (1) Strengthened in my opinion by such authority, and by the example of some in the highest order of Italian poets, I shall make no apology for attempts at similar variations in the following composition; satisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their failure must be in the execution, rather than in the design sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie.

LONDON, February, 1812.

ADDITION TO THE PREFACE.

I HAVE now waited till almost all our periodical journals have distributed their usual portion of criticism. To the justice of the generality of their criticisms I have nothing to object: it would ill become me to quarrel with their very slight degree of censure, when, perhaps, if they had been less kind they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, to all and each my best thanks for their liberality, on one point up in the Archipelago. I don't think it is well known in England; De Montbron is the author."-P. E.

(1) Beattie's Letters.

(2) "Qu'on lise dans l'auteur du roman de Gérard de Roussillon, en Provençal, les détails très-circonstanciés, dans lesquels il entre sur la réception faite par le Comte Gérard à l'ambassadeur du roi Charles; on y verra des particularités singulières, qui donnent une étrange idée des mœurs et de la politesse de ces siècles aussi corrompus qu'ignorans." Memoires sur l'Ancienne Chevalerie, par M. de la Curne de Sainte-Palaye, Paris, 1781, loc. cit.-L. E.

alone shall I venture an observation. Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very indifferent character of the "vagrant Childe" (whom, notwithstanding many hints to the contrary, 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, honour, and so forth. Now, it 30 happens that the good old times, when "l'amour du bon vieux temps, l'amour antique" flourished, were the most profligate of all possible centuries. Those who have any doubts on this subject may consult Sainte-Palaye, passim, and more particularly vol. ii. p. 69.(2) .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 Ovid. The "cours d'amour, parlemens d'amour, ou de courtoisie et de gentillesse," had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness. See Roland on the same subject with Sainte-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." (3) 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 Marie-Antoinette was quite as chaste as most of those in whose honours 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 proceeded 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, (4) perhaps a poetical Zeluco. (5)

LONDON, 1813.

(3) The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement.— [By Messrs. Canning and Frere; first published in the Antijacobin.-L. E.] (4) In one of his early poems-" Childish Recollections," ante, p. 30, Lord Byron compares himself to the Athenian misanthrope, of whose bitter apophthegms many are npon record, though no authentic particulars of his life have come down to us:

"Weary of love, of life, devour'd with spleen,

I rest a perfect Timon, not nineteen," etc.-L. E. (5) It was Dr. Moore's object, in this powerful romance (now unjustly neglected), to trace the fatal effects resulting

IV.

Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly;
Nor deem'd, before his little day was done,
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his pass'd by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fullness of satiety:

Then loathed he in his native land to dwell,

Which seem'd to him more lone than eremite's sad cell.

V.

For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run, Nor made atonement when he did amiss, Had sigh'd to many though he loved but one, (1) And that loved one, alas! could ne'er be his. Ah! happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste; Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss, And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste, Nor calm domestic peace had ever deign'd to taste.

VI.

And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart, And from his fellow bacchanals would flee; "Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start, But Pride congeal'd the drop within his ee: Apart he stalk'd in joyless (2) reverie, And from his native land resolved to go, And visit scorching climes beyond the sea; With pleasure drugg'd, he almost long'd for woe, And e'en for change of scene would seek the (3) shades below.

VII.

The Childe departed from his father's hall: It was a vast and venerable pile; So old, it seemed only not to fall, Yet strength was pillar'd in each massy aisle. Monastic dome! condemn'd to uses vile! Where Superstition once had made her den Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile; And monks might deem their time was come agen, If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men. (4)

between the poet and his hero, Lord Byron observes, in a letter to Mr. Dallas:-"I by no means, intend to identify myself with Harold, but to deny all connection with him. If in parts I may be thought to have drawn from myself, believe me it is but in parts, and I shall not own even to that. I would not be such a fellow as I have made my hero for the world."-P. E.

(1) See "Stanzas written to a Lady," antè, p. 41.-L. E. (2) "Originally written sullen reverie,' but subsequently altered, to avoid the repetition of the epithet, which occurs in the third line of the stanza." Dallas.-P. E.

(3) In these stanzas, and indeed throughout his works, we must not accept too literally Lord Byron's testimony against himself-he took a morbid pleasure in darkening every shadow of his self-portraiture. His interior at Newstead had, no doubt, been, in some points, loose and irregular enough; but it certainly never exhibited any thing of the profuse and Sultanic luxury which the language in the text might seem to indicate. In fact, the narrowness of his means at the time the verses refer to would alone have precluded this. His household economy, while he remained at the Abbey, is known to have been conducted on a very moderate scale; and, besides, his usual companions, though far from being averse to convivial indulgences, were not only, as Mr. Moore says, "of habits and tastes too in

tellectual for mere vulgar debauchery," but, assuredly, quite incapable of playing the parts of flatterers and parasites. -L. E.

(4) "For some years after the event that had so much influence on my fate (the marriage of Miss Chaworth), I tried to drown the remembrance of it and her in the most depraving dissipation: but the poison was in the cup." Medwin.-P. E.

(5) Throughout his writings Byron invariably lays much stress on his friendlessness, which to us, we confess, ap. pears to have been rather imaginary than real. On this subject Galt justly remarks:-"In respect both to it and to his ravelled fortune a great deal too much has been too often said, and the manliness of his character has suffered by the puling. His correspondence shows that he had several friends, to whom he was much attached; and his disposition justifies the belief that, had he not been well persuaded the attachment was reciprocal, he would not have remained on terms of intimacy with them."-P. E. (6) From a letter of Mr. Dallas, we find that the line originally ran thus:

"Yet deem him not from this with breast of steel."-P. E. (7) Lord Byron originally intended to visit India.L. E.

XIL

The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew,
As glad to waft him from his native home;
And fast the white rocks faded from his view,
And soon were lost in circumambient foam:
And then, it may be, of his wish to roam
Repented he, but in his bosom slept

The silent thought, nor from his lips did come One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept, And to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept. XIII.

But when the sun was sinking in the sca

He seized his harp, which he at times could string,
And strike, albeit with untaught melody,
When deem'd he no strange ear was listening:
And now his fingers o'er it he did fling,
And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight.
While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,
And fleeting shores receded from his sight,

Thas to the elements he pour'd his last "Good Night."(1)

1.

ADIEU, adieu! my native shore

Fades o'er the waters blue;

The night-winds sigh, the breakers roar
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,
My native Land-Good Night!

2.

"A few short hours and he will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,

Its hearth is desolate;

Wild weeds are gathering on the wall; My dog howls at the gate.

3.

*Come hither, hither, my little page! (2) Why dost thou weep and wail?

(1) See "Lord Maxwell's Good Night," in Scott's Border Minstrelsy, vol. i. p. 297:

“Adieu, madame, my mother dear," etc.-L. E.

(2. This little page" was Robert Rushton, the son of one of Lord Byron's tenants. "I take Robert with me," says the port, in a letter to his mother; "I like him, because, like myself, he seems a friendless animal.”—L. E.

3) Seeing that the boy was "sorrowful" at the separation from his parents, Lord Byron, on reaching Gibraltar, sent him back to England under the care of his old servant Murray. "Pray," he says to his mother, show the lad every kindness, as he has behaved extremely well, and is a great favourite." He also wrote a letter to the father of the boy, which leaves a most favourable impression of his thoughtfulness and kindliness. "I have," he says, "sent Robert home, because the country which I am about to travel through is in a state which renders it unsafe, par. ticularly for one so young. I allow you to deduct from your reat five-and-twenty pounds a-year for the expense of lis education, for three years, provided I do not return before that time, and I desire he may be considered as in my Krvice."-L. E.

Here follows, in the original MS. :-
"My mother is a high-born dame,
And much misliketh me;

She saith my riot bringeth shame
On all my ancestry:

Or dost thou dread the billows' rage.
Or tremble at the gale?
But dash the tear-drop from thine eye;
Our ship is swift and strong:
Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along."

4.

'Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high,
I fear not wave nor wind;
Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I
Am sorrowful in mind; (3)

For I have from my father gone,

A mother whom I love,
And have no friend, save these alone,
But thee-and one above.

5.

'My father bless'd me fervently,
Yet did not much complain;
But sorely will my mother sigh,
Till I come back again.'-
"Enough, enough, my little lad!
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,
Mine own would not be dry. (4)

6.

"Come hither, hither, my staunch yeoman, (5) Why dost thou look so pale?

Or dost thou dread a French foeman!
Or shiver at the gale?"

'Deem'st thou I tremble for my life?
Sir Childe, I'm not so weak;
But thinking on an absent wife
Will blanch a faithful cheek.

7.

'My spouse and boys dwell near thy hall, Along the bordering lake,

And when they on their father call,
'What answer shall she make?'.
"Enough, enough, my yeoman good,
Thy grief let none gainsay;
But I, who am of lighter mood,
Will laugh to flee away.

I had a sister once, I ween,

Whose tears perhaps will flow;
But her fair face I have not seen

For three long years and moe,"-L. E.

(5) William Fletcher, the faithful valet;- who, after a service of twenty years ("during which," he says, "his Lord was more to him than a father"), received the Pilgrim's last words at Missolonghi, and did not quit his remains, until he had seen them deposited in the family vault at Hucknell. This unsophisticated "yeoman" was a constant source of pleasantry to his master:-e.g. "Fletcher," he says, in a letter to his mother, "is not valiant: he requires comforts that I can dispense with, and sighs for beer, and beef, and tea, and his wife, and the devil knows what besides. We were one night lost in a thunder-storm, and since, nearly wrecked. In both cases he was sorely be wildered; from apprehensions of famine and banditti in the first, and drowning in the second instance. His eyes were a little hurt by the lightning, or crying, I don't know which. I did what I could to console him, but found him incorrigible. He sends six sighs to Sally. I shall settle him in a farm; for he has served me faithfully, and Sally is a good woman." After all his adventures by flood and field, short commons included, this humble Achates of the poet has now established himself as the keeper of an Italian warehouse, in Charles Street, Berkeley Square, where, if he does not thrive, every one who knows anything of his character will say he deserves to do so.-L. E.

8.

"For who would trust the seeming sighs

Of wife or paramour?

Fresh feres will dry the bright blue eyes
We late saw streaming o'er.
For pleasures past I do not grieve,
Nor perils gathering near;
My greatest grief is that I leave
No thing that claims a tear.

9.

"And now I'm in the world alone, (1)
Upon the wide, wide sea:
But why should I for others groan,.
When none will sigh for me?
Perchance my dog will whine in vain,
Till fed by stranger hands;
But long ere I come back again,

He'd tear me where he stands. (2)

10.

"With thee, my bark, I'll swiftly go
Athwart the foaming brine;

Nor care what land thou bear'st me to,
So not again to mine.
Welcome, welcome, ye dark-blue waves!
And when you fail my sight,
Welcome, ye deserts, and ye caves!
My native Land-Good Night!" (3)
XIV.

On, on the vessel flies, the land is gone,
And winds are rude in Biscay's sleepless bay.
Four days are sped, but with the fifth, anon,
New shores descried make every bosom gay;
And Cintra's mountain greets them on their way,
And Tagus dashing onward to the deep,
His fabled golden tribute bent to pay;

And soon on board the Lusian pilots leap, [reap. And steer 'twixt fertile shores where yet few rustics

(1) It would appear that Mr. Dallas had recommended the suppression or alteration of the ninth stanza, as may be gathered from the following observation of the noble poet, in a letter to that gentleman. "I do not mean to exchange the ninth verse of the Good Night.' I have no reason to suppose my dog better than his brother brutes, mankind; and Argus we know to be a fable."-P. E (2) Here follows, in the original MS. :"Methinks it would my bosom glad,

To change my proud estate,

And be again a laughing lad

With one beloved playmate.

Since youth.I scarce have pass'd an hour
Without disgust or pain,

Except sometimes in lady's bower,

Or when the bowl I drain."-L. E.

(3) Originally the "little page" and the "yeoman" were introduced in the following stanzas:

"And of his train there was a henchman page,
A peasant boy, who served his master well;
And often would his pranksome prate engage
Childe Harold's ear, when his proud heart did swell
With sable thoughts that he disdain'd to tell.
Then would he smile on him, and Alwin smiled,
When aught that from his young lips archly fell
The gloomy film from Harold's eye beguiled;
And pleased for a glimpse appear'd the woeful Childe.
"Him and one yeoman only did he take

To travel eastward to a far countrie;
And, though the boy was grieved to leave the lake
On whose fair banks he grew from infancy,
Eftsoons his little heart beat merrily

With hope of foreign nations to behold,

And many things right marvellous to see,

Of which our vaunting voyagers oft have told,

In many a tome as true as Mandeville's of old."- L. E.

(4) "A friend advises Ulissipont; but Lisboa is the Por

tuguese word, consequently the best. Ulissipont is pedantic; and as I had lugged in Hellas and Eros not long before, there would have been something like an affectation of Greek terms, which I wished to avoid, On the submission of Lusitania to the Moors, they changed the name of the capital, which till then had been Ulisipo, or Lispo; because, in the Arabic alphabet, the letter p is not used. Hence, I believe, Lisboa; whence, again, the French Lisbonne, and our Lisbon,-God knows which the earlier corruption !” Byron, MS.-L. E.

(5) By comparing this and the thirteen following stanzas with the account of his progress which Lord Byron sent home to his mother, the reader will see that they are the exact echoes of the thoughts which occurred to his mind as he went over the spots described. Moore.-L. E.

(6) "It is difficult to find a single author who has written upon Lisbon, without noticing that, when he has almost exhausted his terms of panegyric upon its beautiful situation and glorious appearance, he brings instantly into contact with these the language of utter contempt and disgust, at the filth and abominations of this worse than painted sepulchre." Finden's Illustrations.-P. E.

(7) "To make amends for the filthiness of Lisbon, and its still filthier inhabitants, the village of Cintra, about fifteen miles from the capital, is, perhaps, in every respect, the most delightful in Europe. It contains beauties of every description, natural and artificial; palaces and gardens rising in the midst of rocks, cataracts, and precipices; convents on stupendous heights; a distant view of the sea and the Tagus; and, besides (though that is a secondary consideration), is remarkable as the scene of Sir Hew Dalrymple's Convention. It unites in itself all the wildness of the western Highlands, with the verdure of the south of France." B. to Mrs. Byron, 1809.-L. E.