Maid of Athens! I am gone:
Think of me, sweet! when alone.

vice-consul. Byron and Hobhouse lodged at
her house. The sisters were sought out and
described by the artist, Hugh W. Williams,
who visited Athens in May, 1817: "Theresa,
the Maid of Athens, Catinco, and Mariana,
are of middle stature.
The two eldest
have black, or dark hair and eyes; their visage
oval, and complexion somewhat pale, with
teeth of pearly whiteness. Their cheeks are
rounded, their noses straight, rather inclined to
aquiline."- Travels in Italy, Greece, etc.,
ii. 201.

[Her story ends sadly. She married an Englishman named Black, employed in H.M. Consular Service at Mesolonghi. She survived her husband, fell into great poverty, .. and died October 15, 1875, aged 80 years.]

If I

Romaic expression of tenderness. translate it, I shall affront the gentlemen, as it may seem that I supposed they could not; and, if I do not, I may affront the ladies. For fear of any misconstruction on the part of the latter, I shall do so, begging pardon of the learned. It means "My life, I love you!" which sounds very prettily in all languages, and is as much in fashion in Greece at this day as, Juvenal tells us, the two first words were amongst the Roman ladies, whose erotic expressions were all Hellenised.

In the East (where ladies are not taught to write, lest they should scribble assignations), flowers, cinders, pebbles, etc., convey the sentiments of the parties, by that universal deputy of Mercury an old woman. A cinder says, "I burn for thee;" a bunch of flowers tied with hair, "Take me and fly;" but a pebble declares what nothing else can.

« Δεῦτε παῖδες τῶν Ἑλλήνων. 1' 2

SONS of the Greeks, arise!

The glorious hour's gone forth,
And, worthy of such ties,
Display who gave us birth.

[These lines are copied from a leaf of the original MS. of the Second Canto of Childe Harold. They are headed, "Lines written beneath the Picture of J. U. D."]

The song Acûre maides, etc., was written by Riza, who perished in the attempt to revolutionise Greece. This translation is as literal as the author could make it in verse. It is of the same measure as that of the original.

CHORUS.

Sons of Greeks! let us go
In arms against the foe,
Till their hated blood shall flow
In a river past our feet.

Then manfully despising

The Turkish tyrant's yoke,
Let your country see you rising,
And all her chains are broke.
Brave shades of chiefs and sages,
Behold the coming strife!
Hellénes of past ages,

Oh, start again to life!

At the sound of my trumpet breaking
Your sleep, oh, join with me!
And the seven-hilled city seeking,
Fight, conquer, till we're free.

Sons of Greeks, etc.

Sparta, Sparta, why in slumbers
Lethargic dost thou lie?
Awake, and join thy numbers
With Athens, old ally!
Leonidas recalling,

That chief of ancient song,
Who saved ye once from falling,
The terrible! the strong!
Who made that bold diversion
In old Thermopylæ,
And warring with the Persian

To keep his country free;
With his three hundred waging
The battle, long he stood,
And like a lion raging,
Expired in seas of blood.

Sons of Greeks, etc.

[First published, Childe Harold, 1812 (4to).]

And now, O Malta! since thou'st got us,
Thou little military hot-house!
I'll not offend with words uncivil,
And wish thee rudely at the Devil,
But only stare from out my casement,
And ask, "for what is such a place
meant?"

Then, in my solitary nook,

Return to scribbling, or a book, Or take my physic while I'm able (Two spoonfuls hourly, by this label), Prefer my nightcap to my beaver, And bless my stars I've got a fever. May 26, 1811. [First published, 1816.]

'Twere long to tell, and vain to hear,
The tale of one who scorns a tear;
And there is little in that tale
Which better bosoms would bewail.
But mine has suffered more than well
'Twould suit philosophy to tell.
I've seen my bride another's bride,
Have seen her seated by his side,
Have seen the infant, which she bore,
Wear the sweet smile the mother wore,
When she and I in youth have smiled,
As fond and faultless as her child;
Have seen her eyes, in cold disdain,
Ask if I felt no secret pain;

And I have acted well my part,
And made my cheek belie my heart,
Returned the freezing glance she gave,
Yet felt the while that woman's slave;
Have kissed, as if without design,
The babe which ought to have been
mine,

And showed, alas! in each caress
Time had not made me love the less.