now chiefly remembered through the castigation which it received from the "Edinburgh Review." To this critique, which galled, but did not depress him, we owe the first spirited outbreak of his talents, in the satire entitled "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," which was published in 1809. Able and vigorous as this was, and creditable to his talents, it contained so many harsh and capricious judgments, that he was afterward anxious to suppress it. A few days before the publication of this satire, he took his seat in the House of Lords; but he was ill qualified to shine in politics; and seeing that he made no impression there, he soon left England for the continent. In 1811, having lost his mother, he returned home, his private affairs being very much embarrassed. He brought with him the first two cantos of "Childe Harold," which he had written abroad. They were published in March, 1812, and were received by the public with the most unbounded admiration; so that Byron emerged at once from a state of loneliness and neglect, unusual for one in his sphere of life, to be the magnet and idol of society. As he tersely says in his memoranda, “I awoke one morning, and found myself famous." In May of the next year appeared his "Giaour;" and in November, the "Bride of Abydos," (written in a week;) and, about three months afterward, the "Corsair," written in the astonishingly short space of ten days. On the 2d of January, 1815, he was married to Miss Milbanke, the only daughter and heiress of Sir Ralph Milbanke, the only issue of which marriage was Augusta Ada, born on the 10th of December of that year. On the 15th of January of the next year, the husband and wife separated for ever. The cause of this was, and still is, a mystery. But most of those who composed the circles in which Lord Byron moved declared against him, and society withdrew its countenance. Deeply stung by the verdict, he resolved to leave his country, and on the 25th of April, 1816, he quitted England for the last time. His course was through Flanders, and along the Rhine to Switzerland, where he resided until the close of the year, and where he composed some of his most powerful works-the third canto of "Childe Harold," the "Prisoner of Chillon," "Darkness," "The Dream," part of "Manfred," and a few minor poems. The next year he went to Italy, where, for a course of years, he gave himself up to the grossest species of libertinism; and where, as might be expected, he wrote his most licentious and blasphemous works. In 1823, he interested himself warmly in the cause of the Greeks, then struggling to throw off the Turkish yoke; and in December of that year sailed for Greece, with all the funds he could command, to aid the oppressed in their efforts for freedom. This was, certainly, a redeeming trait in his character, and we are glad to record it. On the 5th of January, 1824, he arrived at Missolonghi, where his reception was enthusiastic, the whole population coming out to meet him. But he had scarcely arranged his plans to aid the nation he had so befriended, when he was seized with a fever, and expired on the 19th of April, 1824.1 Of the character of Lord Byron's poetry, there can be but one opinion in 1 "We are to remember that the period of our lives is not so peremptorily determined by God, but that we may lengthen or shorten them, live longer or die sooner, according as we behave ourselves in this world. Thus, some men destroy a healthful and vigorous constitution of body by intemperance and lust, and do as manifestly kill themselves as those who hang, or poison, or drown themselves."-SHERLOCK. every honest and pure mind-that, while it exhibits powers of description unusually great, and is full of passages of exquisite beauty, it cannot, as a whole, be read without the most injurious influence upon the moral sensibilities. The tendency of it is to shake our confidence in virtue, and to diminish our abhorrence of vice; to palliate crime, and to unsettle our notions of right and wrong., "Humiliating was the waste and degradation of his genius, and melancholy is the power which his poetry has exerted upon multitudes of minds. The moral tendency of some of his poems is exceedingly pernicious: his complete works ought never to be purchased, and we may feel proud not to be acquainted with them, except by extracts and beauties." Indeed, if any one should possess the fiendish desire to break down the principles of virtue in any young man or young woman, the best way to begin would be to put a copy of Byron's works into the hands of the destined victim. "Fore-warned-fore-armed."1 THE DYING GLADIATOR." The seal is set.-Now welcome, thou dread power! Both are but theatres where the chief actors rot. 1 "I admire the sublimity of his genius. But I have feared, and do still fear, the consequences the inevitable consequences of his writings. I fear, that in our enthusiastic admiration of genius, our idolatry of poetry, the awful impiety and the staggering unbelief contained in those writings are lightly passed over, and acquiesced in, as the allowable aberrations of a master intellect, which had lifted itself above the ordinary world, which had broken down the barriers of ordinary mind, and which revelled in a creation of its own: a world, over which the sunshine of imagination lightened at times with an almost ineffable glory, to be succeeded by the thick blackness of doubt, and terror, and misanthropy, relieved only by the lightning flashes of terrible and unholy passion."-J. G. WHITTIER. 2 We read with horror the accounts of the barbarous and brutal gladiatorial exhibitions among the Romans; and were not the historical evidence irrefutable, we could hardly believe that in one city alone (Capua) forty thousand were kept, and fed, and trained to butcher each other for the gratification of the Roman people. But let us be honest, and not have too much self-complacency. "Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye, and then shalt thou see clearly to pull the mote out of thy brother's eye." How do modern military "schools"-(our ludi gladiatorii)-among so-called Christian nations, differ in prin ciple from the ancient? Are not young men trained in them, for years, to learn the art of human butchery-to learn how to kill their fellow-men most scientifically? May the day speedily come when our land, by utterly abolishing such establishments, shall set, in this respect, a Christian example to all the nations of the earth! I see before me the gladiator lie: He leans upon his hand; his manly brow And his droop'd head sinks gradually low; Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won. He heard it, but he heeded not; his eyes All this rush'd with his blood. Shall he expire, APOSTROPHE TO THE OCEAN. There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. His steps are not upon thy paths-thy fields And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies, And dashest him again to earth: there let him lay. Their clay creator the vain title take Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war: Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee- Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm, Dark-heaving; boundless, endless, and sublime- Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy NIGHT AT CORINTH.1 'Tis midnight: on the mountains brown And scarce their foam the pebbles shook, But murmur'd meekly as the brook. In 1715, Corinth, then in the possession of the Venetians, was besieged by the Turks In the "Siege of Corinth," Byron describes one of the delicious nights of that fine climate. The winds were pillow'd on the waves; A CALM NIGHT AT LAKE GENEVA. Clear, placid Leman! thy contrasted lake, To waft me from distraction; once I loved That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved. It is the hush of night, and all between Thy margin and the mountains, dusk, yet clear, There breathes a living fragrance, from the shore, AN ALPINE STORM AT LAKE GENEVA. The sky is changed!--and such a change! Oh night, 1 The Muezzin's voice The Turks do not use bells to summon the religious to their devo tions. They have an appointed person whose function it is to send forth, to the extent of his voice, the call to wonted prayer. |