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She died, but not alone; she held within

A second principle of life, which might Have dawn'd a fair and sinless child of sin ;(1)

But closed its little being without light, And went down to the grave unborn, wherein

Blossom and bough lie wither’d with one blight; In vain the dews of Heaven descend above The bleeding flower and blasted fruit of love.


Thus lived thus died she; never more on her

Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made Through years or moons the inner weight to bear,

Which colder hearts endure till they are laid By age in earth : her days and pleasures were

Brief, but delightful—such as had not staid Long with her destiny ; but she sleeps well (2) By the sea-shore, whereon she loved to dwell.(3)

in his grave:

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(1) [MS. -“ Have dawn'd a child of beauty, though of sin.”] (2)

[- “ Duncan

After life's fitful fever he sleeps well." — Macbeth.] (3) [We think that few will withhold their sympathy from this affecting catastrophe, or refuse to drop a tear over the fate of the lovely and unfor. tunate Haidée, and to bid her

sleep well By the sea-shore, whereon she loved to dwell." Over this charming creature the poet has thrown a beauty and a fascination, which were never, we think, surpassed. In this, as in the former cantos, he pours out a singular mixture of pathos, doggrel, wit, and satire; taking a strange and almost malignant delight in dashing the laughter he has raised with tears, and crossing his finest and most affecting passages with burlesque ideas, against which no gravity is proof. - CAMPBELL.]


That isle is now all desolate and bare,

Its dwellings down, its tenants pass'd away; None but her own and father's grave is there,

And nothing outward tells of human clay; Ye could not know where lies a thing so fair,

No stone is there to show, no tongue to say What was; no dirge, except the hollow sea's, (1) Mourns o'er the beauty of the Cyclades.


many an islander

But many a Greek maid in a loving song

Sighs o'er her name; and
With her sire's story makes the night less long;

Valour was his, and beauty dwelt with her:
If she loved rashly, her life paid for wrong()—

A heavy price must all pay who thus err, In some shape ; let none think to fly the danger (3) For soon or late Love is his own avenger.

(1) [MS. — “ No stone is there to read, nor tongue to say,

No dirge

- save when arise the stormy seas."] (2) [It will be advanced that her amours are objectionable, by some fas. tidious critic,

“ Who minces virtue, and doth shake the head

To hear of pleasure's name."If the loves of Juan and Haidée are not pure and innocent, and dictated with sufficient delicacy and propriety, the tender passion may as well be struck at once out of the list of the poet's themes. We must shut our eyes and harden our hearts against the master-passion of our existence; and, becoming mere creatures of hypocrisy and form, charge even Milton him. self with folly. - CAMPBELL.] (3) [MS. — “ They must, and will, and none can fly the danger, For soon or late Love,” &c.]


But let me change this theme, which grows too sad,

And lay this sheet of sorrows on the shelf; I don't much like describing people mad,

For fear of seeming rather touch'd myself-
Besides, I've no more on this head to add ;

And as my Muse is a capricious elf,
We'll put about, and try another tack
With Juan, left half-kill'd some stanzas back.


Wounded and fetter'd, “ cabin’d, cribb’d, confined,” (')

Some days and nights elapsed before that he Could altogether call the past to mind;

And when he did, he found himself at sea, Sailing six knots an hour before the wind;

The shores of Ilion lay beneath their leeAnother time he might have liked to see 'em, But now was not much pleased with Cape Sigæum.(2)

(1) [“ But now I'm cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound in

To saucy doubts and fcars.” — SHAKSPEARE.] (2) [We had a full view of Mount Ida,

• Where Juno once caress'd her amorous Jove,

And the world's master lay subdued by love.' We anchored at Cape Janissary, the famous promontory of Sigæum. My curiosity supplied me with strength to climb to the top of it, to see the place where Achilles was buried, and where Alexander ran naked round his tomb, in honour of him – which 'no doubt was a great comfort to his ghost. Farther downward we saw the promontory famed for the sepulchre of Ajax. While I reviewed these celebrated fields and rivers, I admired the exact geography of Homer, whom I had in my hand. Almost every epithet he gives to a mountain or plain is still just for it; and I spent several hours here in as agreeable cogitations as ever Don Quixote had on Mount Montesinos. - Lady M. W. MONTAGU.]


There, on the green and village-cotted hill, is

(Flank'd by the Hellespont, and by the sea) Entomb’d the bravest of the brave, Achilles ;

They say so-(Bryant says the contrary): And further downward, tall and towering still, is (1)

The tumulus - of whom? Heaven knows;'t may be Patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus ;() All heroes, who if living still would slay us.

High barrows, without marble, or a name,

A vast, untill'd, and mountain-skirted plain,
And Ida in the distance, still the same,

And old Scamander, (if 'tis he) remain;

(1) [Proceeding towards the east, and round the bay distinctly pointed out by Strabo, as the harbour in which the Grecian fleet was stationed, we arrived at the sepulchre of Ajax, upon the ancient Rhætian promontory. It is one of the most interesting objects to which the attention of the literary traveller can possibly be directed. In all that remains of former ages, I know of nothing likely to affect the mind by emotions of local enthusiasm more powerfully than this most interesting tomb. It is im. possible to view its sublime and simple form without calling to mind the veneration so long paid to it; without picturing to the imagination a successive series of mariners, of kings and heroes, who, from the Hellespont, or by the shores of Troas and Chersonesus, or on the sepulchre itself, poured forth the tribute of their homage; and, finally, without representing to the mind the feelings of a native, or of a traveller, in those times, who, after viewing the existing monument, and witnessing the instances of public and of private regard so constantly bestowed upon it, should have been told the age was to arrive when the existence of Troy, and of the mighty dead entombed upon its plain, would be considered as having no foundation in truth. – DR. E. D. Clarke.]

(2) [The Troad is a fine field for conjecture and snipe-shooting, and a good sportsman and an ingenious scholar may exercise their feet and faculties to great advantage upon the spot; - or, if they prefer riding, lose their way, as I did, in a cursed quagmire of the Scamander, who wriggles about as if the Dardan virgins still offered their wonted tribute. The only

The situation seems still form'd for fame

A hundred thousand men might fight again With ease; but where I sought for Ilion's walls, The quiet sheep feeds, and the tortoise crawls;


Troops of untended horses; here and there

Some little hamlets, with new names uncouth; Some shepherds, (unlike Paris) led to stare

A moment at the European youth Whom to the spot their school-boy feelings bear ;( )

A Turk, with beads in hand, and pipe in mouth, Extremely taken with his own religion, Are what I found there — but the devil a Phrygian.


Don Juan, here permitted to emerge

From his dull cabin, found himself a slave; Forlorn, and gazing on the deep blue surge,

O'ershadow'd there by many a hero's grave; Weak still with loss of blood, he scarce could urge A few brief questions ;

and the answers gave No very satisfactory information About his past or present situation.

vestige of Troy, or her destroyers, are the barrows supposed to contain the carcases of Achilles, Antilochus, Ajax, &c. ; but Mount Ida is still in high feather, though the shepherds are now-a-days not much like Ganymede. B. Letters, 1810.]

(1) [Nothing could be more agreeable than our frequent rambles. The peasants of the numerous villages, whom we frequently encountered ploughing with their buffaloes, or driving their creaking wicker cars, laden with faggots from the mountains, whether Greeks or Turks, showed no in. clination to interrupt our pursuits. Parties of our crew might be seen scattered over the plain, collecting the tortoises which swarm on the sides of the rivulets, and are found under every furze-bush. - HOBHOUSE.]

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