For there-the Rose o'er crag or vale, And every charm and grace hath mix'd And trample, brute-like, o'er each flower The whole of this passage, from line 7 down to line 167, "Who heard it first had cause to grieve," was not in the first edition. -E. (1) The attachment of the nightingale to the rose is a well-known Persian fable. If I mistake not, the "Bulbul of a thousand tales" is one of his appellations.-[Thus Mesihi, as translated by Sir William Jones: "Come, charming maid! and hear thy poet sing, Be gay too soon the flowers of spring will fade."—E. (2) The guitar is the constant amusement of the Greek sailor by night: with a steady fair wind, and during a calm, it is accompanied always by the voice, and often by dancing. (3) If once the public notice is drawn to a poet, the talents Strange-that where all is peace beside, And, fix'd on heavenly thrones, should dwell So soft the scene, so form'd for joy, So curst the tyrants that destroy! He who hath bent him o'er the dead (3) Ere the first day of death is fled, The last of danger and distress, Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,) The rapture of repose that 's there, The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon; 'T is Greece, but living Greece no more! (6) So coldly sweet, so deadly fair, We start, for soul is wanting there. he exhibits on a nearer view, the weight his mind carries with it in his every-day intercourse, somehow or other are reflected around on his compositions, and co-operate in giving a collateral force to their impression on the public. To this we must assign some part of the impression made by the Giaour. The thirtyfive lines, beginning He who hath bent him o'er the dead,' are so beautiful, so original, and so utterly beyond the reach of any one whose poetical genius was not very decided and very rich, that they alone, under the circumstances explained, were sufficient to secure celebrity to this poem." Sir E. Brydges.-E. (4) Ay, but to die and go we know not where, To be in cold obstruction!" Measure for Measure. (5) I trust that few of my readers have ever had an opportunity of witnessing what is here attempted in description, but those who have will probably retain a painful remembrance of that singular beauty which pervades, with few exceptions, the features of the dead, a few hours, and but for a few hours, after "the spirit is not there." It is to be remarked in cases of violent death by gun-shot wounds the expression is always that of languor, whatever the natural energy of the sufferer's character: but in death from a stab the countenance preserves its traits of feeling or ferocity, and the mind its bias, to the last. (6) In Dallaway's Constantinople, a book which Lord Byron is not unlikely to have consulted, I find a passage quoted from 1 Clime of the unforgotten brave! Gillies's History of Greece, which contains, perhaps, the first seed of the thought thus expanded into full perfection by genius: "The present state of Greece, compared to the ancient, is the silent obscurity of the grave contrasted with the vivid lustre of active life." Moore.-E. (1) "There is infinite beauty and effect, though of a painful and almost oppressive character, in this extraordinary passage; in which the author has illustrated the beautiful, but still and meiancholy, aspect of the once-busy and glorious shores of Greece, by an image more true, more mourn ul, and more exquisitely finished, than any that we can recollect in the whole compass of poetry." Jeffrey.-E. (2) The isle of Salamis lies in the Saronic Gulf, on the southern coast of Attica, nearly opposite to Eleusis. It belonged to the Enough-no foreign foe could quell What can he tell who treads thy shore? No legend of thine olden time, No theme on which the Muse might soar Thy sons to deeds sublime, Or raise the neck that courts the yoke : Who thundering comes on blackest steed, (4) With slacken'd bit and hoof of speed? Athenians, though, from its situation between Athens and Megara, the inhabitants of the latter city contested its possession for some time with the Athenians. The name, says Gillies, in his History of Greece, is associated with the honourable battle fought on the 20th October, 480 years before Christ, between the Persians under Xerxes, when he invaded Attica, and the Greeks, who successfully defended their country with a force of only 380 ships against 2,000, of which they destroyed about 200).—E. (3) Athens is the property of the Kislar Aga (the slave of the seraglio and guardian of the women), who appoints the Way wode A pander and eunuch-these are not polite, yet true appellations.. now governs the governor of Athens! (4) The reciter of the tale is a Turkish fisherman, who has been employed during the day in the Gulf of Ægina, and in the Beneath the clattering iron's sound The cavern'd echoes wake around In lash for lash, and bound for bound; The foam that streaks the courser's side Seems gather'd from the ocean-tide: Though weary waves are sunk to rest, There's none within his rider's breast; And though to-morrow's tempest lower, 'T is calmer than thy heart, young Giaour!(1) I know thee not, I loathe thy race, But in thy lineaments I trace What time shall strengthen, not efface: Though young and pale, that sallow front Is scathed by fiery passion's brunt; Though bent on earth thine evil eye, As meteor-like thou glidest by, Right well I view and deem thee one Whom Othman's sons should slay or shun. On-on he hasten'd, and he drew My gaze of wonder as he flew : Though like a demon of the night He pass'd, and vanish'd from my sight, His aspect and his air impress'd A troubled memory on my breast, And long upon my startled ear Rung his dark courser's hoofs of fear. He spurs his steed; he nears the steep That, jutting, shadows o'er the deep; He winds around; he hurries by; The rock relieves him from mine eye: For well 1 ween unwelcome he Whose glance is fix'd on those that flee; And not a star but shines too bright On him who takes such timeless flight. He wound along; but ere he pass'd One glance he snatch'd, as if his last, A moment check'd his wheeling steed, A moment breathed him from his speed, A moment on his stirrup stoodWhy looks he o'er the olive wood ? The crescent glimmers on the hill, The mosque's high lamps are quivering still: Though too remote for sound to wake In echoes of the far tophaike, (2) The flashes of each joyous peal Are seen to prove the Moslem's zeal. evening, apprehensive of the Mainote pirates who infest the coast of Altica, lands with his boat on the harbour of Port Leone, the ancient Piræus. He becomes the eye-witness of nearly all the incidents in the story, and in one of them is a principal agent. It is to his feelings, and particularly to his religious prejudices, that we are indebted for some of the most forcible and splendid parts of the poem." George Ellis. (1) In Dr. Clarke's Travels, this word, which means Infidel, is always written according to its English pronunciation, Djour. Lord Byron adopted the Italian spelling usual among the Franks of the Desert.-E. (2) "Tophaike," musket.-The Bairam is announced by the cannon at sunset; the illumination of the mosques, and the firing To-night, set Rhamazani's sun; He stood-some dread was on his face, Impatient of his flight delay'd, Here loud his raven charger neigh'd Down glanced that hand, and grasp'd his blade: As slumber starts at owlet's scream. Swift as the hurl'd on high jerreed (4) ́ A life of pain, an age of crime. of all kinds of small-arms, loaded with ball, proclaim it during the night. (3) "Hasty blush."-For hasty all the editions, till the twelfth read "darkening blush."-E. darted from horseback with great force and precision. It is a fa (4) Jerreed, or Djerrid, a blunted Turkish javelin, which i vourite exercise of the Mussulmans; but I know not if it can b called a manly one, since the most expert in the art are the bla eunuchs of Constantinople. I think, next to these, a Mamlouk a Smyrna was the most skilful that came within my observation. (5) Every gesture of the impetuous horseman is full of anxiety and passion. In the midst of his career, whilst in full view of the astonished spectator, he suddenly checks his steed, and, rising For infinite as boundless space The thought that Conscience must embrace, Woe without name, or hope, or end. The hour is past, the Giaour is gone; Woe to that hour he came or went! He came, he went, like the simoom,(1) Dark tree, still sad when others' grief is fled, The steed is vanish'd from the stall; For the stream has shrunk from its marble bed, Where the weeds and the desolate dust are spread. 'T was sweet of yore to see it play And chase the sultriness of day, In whirls fantastically flew, And flung luxurious coolness round The air, and verdure o'er the ground. 'Twas sweet, when cloudless stars were bright, To view the wave of watery light, And hear its melody by night. on his stirrup, surveys, with a look of agonising impatience, the distant city illuminated for the feast of Bairam; then, pale with anger, raises his arm as if in menace of an invisible enemy; but, awakened from his trance of passion by the neighing of his charger, again hurries forward, and disappears." George Ellis.-E. (1) The blast of the desert, fatal to every thing living, and often alluded to in eastern poetry.-[Abyssinian Bruce gives, perhaps, the liveliest account of the appearance and effects of the suffocating blast of the desert:-" At eleven o'clock," he says, "while we contemplated with great pleasure the rugged top of Chiggre, to which we were fast approaching, and where we were to solace ourselves with plenty of good water, Idris, our guide, cried out with a loud voice, 'Fall upon your faces, for here is the simoom.' I saw from the south-east a haze come, in colour like the purple part of the rainbow, but not so compressed or thick. It did not Occupy twenty yards in breadth, and was about twelve feet high from the ground. It was a kind of blush upon the air, and it moved very rapidly; for I scarce could turn to fall upon the ground, with my head to the northward, when I felt the heat of its current plainly upon my face. We all lay flat on the ground as if dead, till Idris told us it was blown over. The meteor, or purple haze, which I saw, was indeed passed, but the light air, which still blew, was of a heat to threaten suffocation. For iny part, I found distinctly in my breast that I had imbibed a part of it; nor was I free of an asthmatic sensation till I had been some months in Italy, at the baths of Poretta, near two years afterwards." See Bruce's Life and Travels, p. 470. edit. 1830.-E.] And oft had Hassan's childhood play'd Its bank been soothed by Beauty's song; (2) This part of the narrative not only contains much brilliant and just description, but is managed with unusual taste. The fisherman has, hitherto, related nothing more than the extraordinary phenomenon which had excited his curiosity, and of which it is his immediate object to explain the cause to his hearers; but, instead of proceeding to do so, he stops to vent his execrations on the Giaour, to describe the solitude of Hassan's once-luxurious haram, and to lament the untimely death of the owner, and of Leila, together with the cessation of that hospitality which they had uniformly experienced. He reveals, as if unintentionally and unconsciously, the catastrophe of his story; but he thus prepares his appeal to the sympathy of his audience, without much diminishing their suspense." George Ellis. (3) "I have just recollected an alteration you may make in the proof. Among the lines on Hassan's serai is this— • Unmeet for Solitude to share.' Now, to share implies more than one, and Solitude is a single gentleman; it must be thus For many a gidded chamber's there, Which Solitude might well forbear;' and so on. Will you adopt this correction? and pray accept a Stilton cheese from me for your trouble.-P. S. I leave this to your discretion: if any body thinks the old line a good one, or the cheese a bad one, don't accept of either." B. Letters, Stilton, Oct. 3, 1813. (4) To partake of food, to break bread and salt with your host, Alike must Wealth and Poverty Pass heedless and unheeded by, For courtesy and Pity died With Hassan on the mountain side. His roof, that refuge unto men, Is Desolation's hungry den. The guest flies the hall, and the vassal from labour, Since his turban was cleft by the infidel's sabre! (1) I hear the sound of coming feet, "Ho! who art thou ?"-"This low salam (4) Replies of Moslem faith I am.”. "The burthen ye so gently bear Seems one that claims your utmost care, And, doubtless, holds some precious freight, My humble bark would gladly wait." "Thou speakest sooth: thy skiff unmoor, And waft us from the silent shore; Nay, leave the sail still furl'd, and ply The nearest oar that 's scatter'd by, And midway to those rocks where sleep The channel'd waters dark and deep. Rest from your task-so-bravely done, Our course has been right swiftly run; Yet 't is the longest voyage, I trow, That one of Which, trembling in their coral caves, They dare not whisper to the waves. As rising on its purple wing And leads him on from flower to flower The mind, that broods o'er guilty woes, And maddening in her ire, Is like the scorpion girt by fire, (6) In circle narrowing as it glows, The flames around their captive close, Till inly search'd by thousand throes, ensures the safety of the guest: even though an enemy, his person Christian, "Urlarula," a good journey; or “saban hiresem, saban from that moment is sacred. (1) I need hardly observe, that charity and hospitality are the first duties enjoined by Mahomet; and, to say truth, very generally practised by his disciples. The first praise that can be bestowed on a chief is a panegyric on his bounty; the next, on his valour. (2) The ataghan, a long dagger worn with pistols in the belt, in a metal scabbard, generally of silver; and among the wealthier, gilt, or of gold. (3) Green is the privileged colour of the Prophet's numerous pretended descendants; with them, as here, faith (the family inhe ritance) is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works: they are the worst of a very indifferent brood. (4) "Salam aleikoum! aleikoum salam! peace be with you; be with you peace-the salutation reserved for the Faithful:-to a serula;" good morn, good even; and sometimes, "may your end be happy ;" are the usual salutes. (5) The blue-winged butterfly of Kashmeer, the most rare and beautiful of the species. (6) Mr. Dallas says, that Lord Byron assured him that the paragraph containing the simile of the scorpion was imagined in his sleep. It forms, therefore, a pendant to the “ 'psychological curiosity," beginning with those exquisitely musical lines: |