spared, without any great detriment to the world. - BISHOP HEBER.

Lara has some charms which the Corsair has not. It is more domestic ; it calls forth more sympathies with polished society ; it is more intellectual, but much less passionate, less vigorous, and less brilliant ; it is sometimes even languid, at any rate, it is more diffuse. - SIR E BRIDGES.

Lara, obviously the sequel of “ The Corsair," maintains in general the same tone of deep interest and losty feeling ;though the disappearance of Vedora from the scene deprives it of the enchanting sweetness by which its terrors are there redeemed, and makes the hero, on the whole, less captivating. The character of Lara, too, is rather too elaborately finished, and his nocturnal encounter with the apparition is worked up too ostentatiously. There is infinite beauty in the sketch of the dark Page, and in many of the moral or general reflec. tions which are interspersed with the narrative. - JEFFREY.]

! [The “Siege of Corinth," which appears, by the original MS., to have been begun in July, 1815, made its appearance in January, 1816. Mr. Murray having enclosed Lord Byron a thousand guineas for the copyright of this poem and of " Pa. risina," he replied, “ Your offer is liberal in the extreme, and much more than the two poems can possibly be worth ; but I cannot accept it, nor will not. You are most welcome to them as additions to the collected volumes; but I cannot consent to their separate publication. I do not like to risk any fame (whether merited or not) which I have been favoured with upon compositions which I do not feel to be at all equal to my own notions of what they should be ; though they may do very well as things without pretension, to add to the pub. lication with the lighter pieces. I have enclosed your drait torn, for fear of accidents by the way - I wish you would not throw temptation in mine. It is not from a disdain of the universal idol, nor from a present super fuity of his treasures, I can assure you, that I refuse to worship him ; but what is right is right, and inust not yield to circumstances. I am very glad that the handwriting was a favourable omen of the morale of the piece; but you must not trust to tbat, for my copyist would write out any thing I desired, in all the ignorance of innocence – I hope, however, in this instance, with no great peril to either.' The copyist was Lady Byron. Lord Byron gave Mr. Gifford carte-blanche to strike out or alter

. [" What do the Reviewers mean by 'elaborate ?' Lara I wrote while undressing, after coininhome from balls and masquerades, in the year of rerelry, 1814." - Lyron Letters, 1822.)

any thing at his plcasure in this poem, as it was passing through the press ; and the reader will be amused with the varie lectiones which had their origin in this extraordinary confidence. Mr. Gifford drew his pen, it will be seen, through at least one of the most admired passages.]

? Napoli di Romania is not now the most considerable place in the Morea, but Tripolitza, where the Pacha resides, and maintains his government. Napoli is near Argos. I visited all three in 1810-1); and, in the course of journeying through the country from ny first arrival in 1809, I crossed the Isthmus eight times in my way from Attica to the Morea, over the mountains, or in the other direction, when passing from the Gull of Athens to that of Lepanto. Both the routes are picturesque and beautiful, though very diferent: that by sea has more sameness; but the voyage being always within sight of land, and often very near it, presents many attractire views of the islands Salamis, Ægina, Poro, &c. and the coast of the Continent.

s(" With regard to the observations on carelessness, &c.," wro:e Lord Byron to a friend, “I think, with all humility, that the gentle reader has considered a rather uncommon, and decidedly irregular, versification for haste and negligence. The measure is not that of any of the other poems, which (I believe) were allowed to be tolerably correct, according to Byshe and the fingers - or ears -- by which bards write, and readers reckon. Great part of the Siege' is in (I think) what the learned call anapests, (though I am not sure, being heinously forgetful of my metres and my Gradus,) and many of the lines intentionally longer or shorter than its rhyming companion ; and the rhyme also occurring at greater or less intervals of caprice or convenience. I mean not to say that this is right or good, but merely that I could have been smoother, had it appeared to me of advantage ; and that I was not otherwise without being aware of the deviation, though I now feel sorry for it, as I would undoubtedly rather please than not. My wish has been to try at something different from my former efforts ; as I endeavoured to make them differ from each other. The versification of the · Corsair' is not that of' Lara: 'nor the. Giaour that of the · Bride:'. Childe llaroli' is, again, varied from these ; and I strove to vary the last somewhat from all of the others. Excuse all this nonsense and egotism. The fact is, that I am rather trying to think on the subject of this note, than really thinking on it." - Byron Letters, Feb. 1816.)

* [On Christinas-lay, 1815, Lord Byron, enclosing this fragment to Mr. Murray, says, “I send some lines, written some time ago, and intended as an opening to the • Siege of

Over the earth, and through the air,
A wild bird and a wanderer.
'Tis this that ever wakes my strain,
And oft, too oft, implores again
The few who may endure my lay,
To follow me so far away.
Stranger - wilt thou follow now,
And sit with me on Acro-Corinth's brow?

We were a gallant company,
Riding o'er land, and sailing o'er sea.
Oh! but we went merrily !
We forded the river, and clomb the high hill,
Never our steeds for a day stood still ;
Whether we lay in the cave or the shed,
Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed;
Whether we couch'd in our rough capote,
On the rougher plank of our gliding boat,
Or stretch'd on the beach, or our saddles spread
As a pillow beneath the resting head,
Fresh we woke upon the morrow:

All our thoughts and words had scope,

We had health, and we had hope,
Toil and travel, but no sorrow.
We were of all tongues and creeds;
Some were those who counted beads,
Some of mosque, and some of church,

And some, or I mis-say, of neither;
Yet through the wide world might ye scarch,

Nor find a motlier crew nor blither.

I. Many a vanish'd year and age, And tempest's breath, and battle's rage, Have swepi o'er Corinth; yet she stands, A fortress form'd to Freedom's hands. S The whirlwind's wrath, the earthquake's shock, Have left untouch'd her hoary rock, The keystone of a land, which still, Though fall'n, looks proudly on that hill, The landmark to the double tide That purpling rolls on either side, As if their waters chated to meet, Yet pause and crouch beneath her fect. But could the blood before her shed Since first Timoleon's brother bled, 4 Or baffled Persia's despot fled, Arise from out the earth which drank The stream of slaughter as it sank, That sanguine ocean would o'erflow Her isthmus idly spread below: Or could the bones of all the slain, Who perish'd there, be piled again, That rival pyramid would rise More mountain-like, through those clear skies, Than yon tower-capp'd Acropolis, Which seems the very clouds to kiss. 5

But those hardy days few cheerily,
And when they now fall drearily,
My thoughts, like swallows, skim the main,
And bear my spirit back again

5

Corinth.' I had forgotten them, and am not sure that they had not better be left out now ;-on that, you and your synod can determine.”—“They are written," says Doore, " in the loosest form of that rambling style of metre, which his admi. ration of Mr. Coleridge's Christabel' led him, at this time, to adopt.” It will be seen, hereaiter, that the poet had never read - Christabel" at the time when he wrote these lines;he had, however, the “ Lay of the Last Minstrel." With re. gard to the character of the species of versification at this time so much in favour, it may be observed, that feeble imitations have since then vulgarised it a good deal to the general ear, but that, in the hands of Mr. Coleridge, Sir Walter Scott, and Lord Byron himself, it has often been employed with the most happy eflect. Its irregularity, when moulded under the guidance of a delicate taste, is more to the eye than to the ear, and in fact not greater than was admitted in some of the most delicious of the lyrical measures of the ancient Greeks.]

(In one of his sea excursions, Lord Byron was nearly lost in a Turkish ship of war, owing to the ignorance of the captain and crew * Fletcher," he says, “yelled; the Greeks called on all the saints; the Mussulmans on Alla; while the captain burst into tears, and ran below deck. I did what I could to console Fletcher; but finding him incorrigible, I wrapped myselí up in my Albanian capote, and lay down to wait the worst." This striking instance of the poet's coolness and courage is thus contirmed by Mr. Hobhouse : --" Finding that, from his lameness, he was unable to be of any service in the exertions which our very serious danger called for, after a laugh or two at the panic of his valet, he not only wrapped himself up and lay down, in the manner he has described, but when our difficulties were terminated was found fast asleep."]

2 The last tidings recently heard of Dervish (one of the Arnaouts who followed me) state him to be in revolt upon the mountains, at the head of some of the bands common in that country in times of trouble. 3 [In the original MS.

“ A marvel from her Moslem bands."]

4 [Timoleon, who had saved the life of his brother Timophanes in battle, afterwards killed him for aiming at the supreme power in Corinth, preferring his duty to his country to all the obligations of blood. Dr. Warton says, that Pope once intended to write an epic poem on the story, and that Dr. Akenside had the same design.)

[The Giaour, the Bride of Abydos, the Corsair, Lara, the Siege of Corinth, followed each other with a celerity, which was only rivalled by their success; and if at times the author seemed to pause in his poetic career, with the threat of forbearing further adventure for a time, the public eagerly pardoned the breach of a promise by keeping which they must have been sufferers. Exquisitely beautiful in themselves, these tales received a new charm from the romantic climes into which they introduced us, and from the oriental costume so strictly preserved and so picturesquely exhibited. Greece, the cradle of the poetry with which our earliest studies are familiar, was presented to us among her ruins and her sorrows. Her delightful scenery, once dedicated to those deities who, though dethroned from their own Olympus, still preserve a poe. tical empire, was spread before usin Lord Byron's poetry, varied by all the moral effect derived froin what Greece is and what she has been, while it was doubled by comparisons, perpetually excited, between the philosophers and heroes who iormerly inhabited that romantic country, and their descendants, who either stoop to their Scythian conquerors, or maintain, among the recesses of their classical mountains, an independence 26 wild and savage as it is precarious. The oriental manners also and diction, so peculiar in their picturesque cffect that they can cast a charm even over the absurdities of an eastern tale, had here the more honourable occupation of decorating that which in itself was beautiful, and enhancing by novelty what would have bcen captivating without its aid. The powerful impression produced by this peculiar species of poetry confirmed us in a principle, which, though it will hardly be challenged when stated as an axiom, is very rarely coni plied with in practicc. It is, that every author should, lile Lord Byron, form to himself, and communicate to the reader, a precise, defineel, and distinct view of the landscape, sentiment, or action which he intends to describe to the reader. SIR WALTER Scotr.]

IL On dun Cithæron's ridge appears The gleam of twice ten thousand spears ; And downward to the Isthmian plain, From shore to shore of either main, The tent is pitch'd, the crescent shines Along the Moslem's leaguering lines; And the dusk Spahi's bands ' advance Beneath each bearded pacha's glance ; And far and wide az eye can reach The turban'd cohorts throng the beach; And there the Arab's camel kneels, And there his stced the Tartar wheels; The Turcoman hath left his herd, 2 The sabre round his loins to gird ; And there the volleying thunders pour, Till waves grow smoother to the roar. The trench is dug, the cannon's breath Wings the far hissing globe of death; Fast whirl the fragments from the wall, Which crumbles with the ponderous ball ; And from that wall the foe replies, O'er dusty plain and smoky skies, With fires that answer fast and well The summons of the Infidel.

He stood a foe, with all the zeal
Which young and fiery converts feel,
Within whose heated boscm throngs
The memory of a thousand wrongs.
To him had Venice ceased to he
Her ancient civic boast-" the Free;"
And in the palace of St. Mark
Unnamed accusers in the dark
Within the “ Lion's mouth" had placed
A charge against him uneffaced :
He fled in time, and saved his life,
To waste his future years in strife,
That taught his land how great her loss
In hiin who triumph'd o'er the Cross,
'Gainst which he rear'd the Crescent high,
And battled to avenge or die.

V. Coumourgis - he whose closing scene Adorn'd the triuniph of Eugene, When on Carlowitz' bloody plain, The last and mightiest of the slain, He sank, regretting not to die, But cursed the Christian's victory Coumourgi — can his glory cease, That latest conqueror of Greece, Till Christian hands to Greece restore The freedom Venice gave of yore ? A hundred years have rollid away Since he retix'd the Moslem's sway, And now he led the Mussulman, And gave the guidance of the van To Alp, who well repaid the trust By cities leveli'd with the dust; And proved, by many a deed of death, How firm his heart in novel faith.

III. But near and nearest to the wall Of those who wish and work its fall, With deeper skill in war's black art, Than Othman's sons, and high of heart As any chief that ever stood Triumphant in the fields of blood; From post to post, and deed to deed, Fast spurring on his reeking steed, Where sallying ranks the trench assail, And make the foremost Moslem quail; Or where the battery, guarded well, Remains as yet impregnable, Alighting cheerly to inspire The soldier slackening in his fire ; The first and freshest of the host Which Stamboul's sultan there can boast, To guide the follower o'er the field, To point the tube, the lance to wield, Or whirl around the bickering blade; Was Alp, the Adrian renegade !

VI. The walls grew weak; and fast and hot Against them pour'd the ceaseless shot, With unabating fury sent From battery to battlement; And thunder-like the pealing din Rose from each heated culverin : And here and there some crackling dompe Was fired before the exploding bomb: And as the fabric sank beneath The shattering shell's volcanic breath, In red and wreathing columns flash'd The flame, as loud the ruin crash'd, Or into countless meteors driven, Its earth-stars melted into heaven; Whose clouds that day grew doubly dun, Impervious to the hidden sun, With volumed smoke that slowly grew To one wide sky of sulphurous hue.

IV. From Venice - once a race of worth His gentle sires - he drew his birth; But late an exile from her shore, Against his countrymen he bore The arms they taught to bear; and now The turban girt his shaven brow. Through many a change had Corinth pass'd With Greece to Venice' rule at last; And here, before her walls, with those To Greece and Venice equal foes,

VII. But not for vengeance, long delay'd, Alone, did Alp, the renegade,

! [Turkish holders of military fiefs, which oblige them to join the army, mounted at their own expense.]

2 The life of the Turcomans is wandering and patriarchal : they dwell in tents.

3 Ali Coumourgi, the favourite of three sultans, and Grand Vizier to Achmet III., after recovering Peloponnesus from the Venetians in one campaign, was mortally wounded in the next, against the Germans, at the battle of Peterwaradin (in

the plain of Carlowitz), in Hungary, endeavouring to rally his guards. He died of his wounds next day. His last order was the decapitation of General Breuner, and some other German prisoners; and his last words, “ Oh that I could thus serve all the Christian dogs!" a speech and act not unlike one of Ca. ligula. He was a young man of great ambition and unbounded presumption : on being told that Prince Eugene, then opposed to hiin, “ was a great general," he said, “I shall become a greater, and at his expense."