CLXXXVI

Farewell! a word that must be, and hath been
A sound which makes us linger;
linger;-yet-farewell!
Ye, who have traced the Pilgrim to the scene
Which is his last, if in your memories dwell
A thought which once was his, if on ye swell
A single recollection, not in vain

He wore his sandal-shoon and scallop-shell;
Farewell! with him alone may rest the pain,
If such there were

with you, the moral of his strain !

TO JOHN MURRAY

VENICE, October 23, 1817.

Whis

Mr. Whistlecraft 1 has no greater admirer than myself. I have written a story in 89 stanzas, in imitation of him, called Beppo (the short name for Giuseppe, that is, the Joe of the Italian Joseph), which I shall throw you into the balance of the 4th Canto to help you round to your money; but you perhaps had better publish it anonymously; but this we will see to by and bye.

With regard to a future large edition, you may print all, or any thing, except English Bards,2 to the republication of which at no time will I consent. I would not reprint them on any consideration. I don't think them

1 Nom-de-plume of John Hookham Frere.

2 "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," written by Byron at the age of 21, was full of injustice and indiscriminate abuse, which he now regrets.

good for much, even in point of poetry; and, as to other things, you are to recollect that I gave up the publication on account of the Hollands, and I do not think that any time or circumstances can neutralise my suppression. Add to which, that, after being on terms with almost all the bards and Critics of the day, it would be savage at any time, but worst of all now when in another country to revive this foolish lampoon.

The Review of Manfred came very safely, and I am much pleased with it. It is odd that they should say (that is, somebody in a magazine whom the Edinburgh controverts) that it was taken from Marlow's Faustus, which I never read nor saw. An American, who came the other day from Germany, told Mr. Hobhouse that Manfred was taken from Goethe's Faust. The devil may take both the Faustuses, German and English,—I have taken neither.

FROM "BEPPO: A VENETIAN STORY"

X

Of all the places where the Carnival

Was most facetious in the days of yore,

For dance, and song, and serenade, and ball,
And masque, and mime, and mystery, and more

Than I have time to tell now, or at all,

Venice the bell from every city bore,And at the moment when I fix my story, That sea-born city was in all her glory.

ΧΙ

They've pretty faces yet, those same Venetians,

Black eyes, arch'd brows, and sweet expressions still; Such as of old were copied from the Grecians,

In ancient arts by moderns mimick'd ill; And like so many Venuses of Titian's

(The best 's at Florence- see it, if ye will), They look when leaning over the balcony, Or stepp'd from out a picture by Giorgione,

XII

Whose tints are truth and beauty at their best;
And when you to Manfrini's palace go,

That picture (howsoever fine the rest)
Is loveliest to my mind of all the show;
It may perhaps be also to your zest,

And that's the cause I rhyme upon it so:
"T is but a portrait of his son, and wife,
And self; but such a woman! love in life!

XIII

Love in full life and length, not love ideal,
No, nor ideal beauty, that fine name,
But something better still, so very real,

That the sweet model must have been the same;
A thing that you would purchase, beg, or steal,
Wer't not impossible, besides a shame.

The face recalls some face, as 't were with pain,
You once have seen, but ne'er will see again;

XIV

One of those forms which flit by us, when we

Are young and fix our eyes on every face;
And, oh! the loveliness at times we see

In momentary gliding, the soft grace,
The youth, the bloom, the beauty which agree,

In many a nameless being we retrace,

Whose course and home we knew not, nor shall know, Like the lost Pleiad seen no more below.

XV

I said that like a picture by Giorgione
Venetian women were, and so they are,
Particularly seen from a balcony

(For beauty's sometimes best set off afar),
And there, just like a heroine of Goldoni,
They peep from out the blind, or o'er the bar;
And, truth to say, they 're mostly very pretty,
And rather like to show it, more's the pity!

XVI

For glances beget ogles, ogles sighs,

Sighs wishes, wishes words, and words a letter, Which flies on wings of light-heel'd Mercuries Who do such things because they know no better; And then, God knows what mischief may arise When love links two young people in one fetter, Vile assignations, and adulterous beds, Elopements, broken vows and hearts and heads.