Buried he lay, where thousands before For thousands of years were inhumed on the shore; Where they lie, and how they fell? Not a stone on their turf, nor a bone in their graves; But they live in the verse that immortally saves. XXVI. Hark to the Allah shout! (1) a band Of the Mussulman bravest and best is at hand: But none on a steel more ruddily gilt; Though faint beneath the mutual wound, XXVII. Still the old man stood erect, Though the life of thy gift would last for ever." (3) "Francesca!-Oh, my promised bride! (4) Must she too perish by thy pride?" "She is safe."_"Where? where?"-" In heaven; Yesternight None of my pure race shall be The sharp shot dash'd Alp to the ground; XXVIII. Fearfully the yell arose Of his followers, and his foes; Clashing swords, and spears transfixing, Whence issued late the fated ball such characters as the Corsair, Lara, the Giaour, Alp, etc., than belongs to them. The incidents, habits, etc., are much too remote from modern and European life to act as mischievous examples to others; while, under the giren cir cumstances, the splendour of imagery, beauty and tenderness of sentiment, and extraordinary strength and felicity of language, are applicable to human nature, at all times and in all countries, and convey to the best faculties of the reader's mind an impulse which elevates, refines, instructs, and enchants, with the noblest and purest of all pleasures." Sir E. Brydges.-L. E. And, with their faces to the foe, XXIX. Brief breathing-time! the turban'd host, They die; but ere their eyes could close, The ranks unthinn'd, though slaughter'd still; Before the still-renew'd attacks: And still, all deadly aim'd and hot, From every crevice comes the shot; XXX. Darkly, sternly, and all alone, And made the sign of a cross with a sigh, XXXI. The vaults beneath the mosaic stone The carved crests, and curious hues Were smear'd, and slippery-stain'd, and strown (1) Dealing death with every blow." Gifford.-L. E. (2) "Oh, but it made a glorious show!!!' Out." Gifford.-L. E. You might see them piled in sable state, XXXII. The foe came on, and few remain To strive, and those must strive in vain: The cup of consecrated gold; Converted by Christ to his blood so divine, Which his worshippers drank at the break of day, To shrive their souls ere they join'd in the fray Still a few drops within it lay; And round the sacred table glow A spoil-the richest, and the last. XXXIII. So near they came, the nearest stretch'd To grasp the spoil he almost reach'd, When old Minotti's hand Touch'd with the torch the train "Tis fired! Spire, vaults, the shrine, the spoil, the slain, All that of living or dead remain, In one wild roar expired! The shatter'd town-the walls thrown downThe waves a moment backward bent The hills that shake, although unrent, As if an earthquake pass'd→→ (3) "Strike out from Up to the sky,' etc. to All blacken'd there and reeking lay.' Despicable stuff." Gifford. -L. E. When he fell to earth again Like a cinder strew'd the plain : Down the ashes shower like rain; Some fell in the gulf, which received the sprinkles Would rend those tender limbs away. And down came blazing rafters, strown All blacken'd there and reeking lay. (1) "Omit the next six lines." Gifford.-L. E. (2) I believe I have taken a poetical license to transplant the jackal from Asia. In Greece I never saw nor heard these animals; but among the ruins of Ephesus I have heard them by hundreds. They haunt ruins, and follow armies. "Leave out this couplet." Gifford.-L. E. (4) "The Siege of Corinth, though written, perhaps, with too visible an effect, and not very well harmonised in all its All the living things that heard The clouds beneath him seem'd so dun; parts, cannot but be regarded as a magnificent composition. There is less misanthropy in it than in any of the rest; and the interest is made up of alternate representations of soft and solemn scenes and emotions, and of the tumult, and terrors, and intoxication of war. These opposite pictures are, perhaps, too violently contrasted, and, in some parts, too harshly coloured; but they are in general exquisitely designed, and executed with the utmost spirit and energy." Jeffrey.-L. E. Parisina." TO SCROPE BERDMORE DAVIES, ESQ. The following Poem is Inscribed BY ONE WHO HAS LONG ADMIRED HIS TALENTS AND VALUED HIS FRIENDSHIP. January 22, 1816. ADVERTISEMENT. THE following poem is grounded on a circumstance mentioned in Gibbon's Antiquities of the House of Brunswick. I am aware, that in modern times the delicacy or fastidiousness of the reader may deem such subjects unfit for the purposes of poetry. The (1) This poem, perhaps the most exquisitely versified one that ever the author produced, was written in London in the autumn of 1815, and published in February, 1816. Although the beauties of it were universally acknowledged, and fragments of its music ere long on every lip, the nature of the subject prevented it from being dwelt upon at much length in the critical journals of the time; most of which were content to record, generally, their regret that so great a poet should have permitted himself, by awakening sympathy for a pair of incestuous lovers, to become, in some sort, the apologist of their sin. An anonymous writer, in Blackwood's Magazine, seems, however, to have suggested some particulars, in the execution of the story, which ought to be taken into consideration, before we rashly class Lord Byron with those poetical offenders, who have bent their powers "to divest incest of its hereditary horrors." "In Parisina," says this critic, "we are scarcely permitted to Greek dramatists, and some of the best of our old English writers, were of a different opinion; as Alfieri and Schiller have also been, more recently, upon the Continent. The following extract will explain the facts on which the story is founded. The name of Azo is substituted for Nicholas, as more metrical. "Under the reign of Nicholas III., Ferrara was polluted with a domestic tragedy. By the testimony have a single glance at the guilt, before our attention is riveted upon the punishment: we have scarcely had time to condemn, within our own hearts, the sinning, though injured son, when For a departing being's soul The death-hymn peals and the hollow bells knoll: Sad to bear-and piteous to see- With the block before and the guards around- Since he set its edge anew: While the crowd in a spechless circle gather To see the son fall by the doom of the father!' "The fatal guilt of the Princess is in like manner swallow. ed up in the dreary contemplation of her uncertain fate. We of an attendant, and his own observation, the Marquis of Esté discovered the incestuous loves of his wife Parisina, and Hugo his bastard son, a beautiful and valiant youth. They were beheaded in the castle by the sentence of a father and husband, who published his shame, and survived their execution. (1)| forbear to think of her as an adulteress, after we have heard that 'horrid voice' which is sent up to heaven at the death of her paramour Whatsoe'er its end below, Her life began and closed in woe.' "Not only has Lord Byron avoided all the details of this unhallowed love, he has also contrived to mingle in the very incest which he condemns the idea of retribution; and our horror for the sin of Hugo is diminished by our belief that it was brought about by some strange and superhuman fatalism, to revenge the ruin of Bianca. That gloom of righteous visitation, which invests, in the old Greek tragedies, the fated house of Atreus, seems here to impend with some portion of its ancient horror over the line of Esté. We hear, in the language of Hugo, the voice of the same prophetic solemnity which announced to Agamemnon, in the very moment of his triumph, the approaching and inevit able darkness of his fate: The gather'd guilt of elder times. Shall reproduce itself in crimes; There is a day of vengeance still, Linger it may-but come it will.' "That awful chorus does not, unless we be greatly mistaken, leave an impression of destiny upon the mind more powerful than that which rushed on the troubled spirit of Azo, when he heard the speech of Hugo in his hall of judg ment: Thou gavest, and mayst resmine my breath, We shall have occasion to recur to this subject when we reach our author's Manfred. The facts on which the present poem was grounded are thus given in Frizzi's History of Ferrara : "This turned out a calamitous year for the people of Ferrara; for there occurred a very tragical event in the court of their sovereign. Our annals, both printed and in manuscript, with the exception of the unpolished and negligent work of Sardi, and one other, have given the following relation of it, from which, however, are rejected many details, and especially the narrative of Bandelli, who wrote a century afterwards, and who does not accord with the contemporary historians. "By the above-mentioned Stella dell' Assassino, the Marquess, in the year 1405, had a son called Ugo, a beautiful and ingenuous youth. Parisina Malatesta, second wife of Niccolo, like the generality of step-mothers, treated him with little kindness, to the infinite regret of the Marquess, who regarded him with fond partiality. One day she asked leave of her husband to undertake a certain journey, to which he consented, but upon condition that Ugo should bear her company; for he hoped by these means to induce her, in the end, to lay aside the obstinate aversion which she had conceived against him. And indeed his intent was accomplished but too well, since, during the journey, she not only divested herself of all her hatred, but fell into the opposite extreme. After their return, the Marquess had no longer any occasion to renew his former reproofs. It hap pened one day that a servant of the Marquess, named Zoese, or, as some call him, Giorgio, passing before the apartments of Parisina, saw going out from them one of her chambermaids, all terrified and in tears. Asking the reason, she told him that her mistress, for some slight offence, had been beating her; and, giving vent to her rage, she added, that she could easily be revenged, if she chose to make known the criminal familiarity which subsisted between Parisina and her step-son. The servant took note of the words, and related them to his master. He was astounded thereat, but, scarcely believing his ears, he assured himself of the fact, alas! too clearly, on the 18th of May, by looking through a hole made in the ceiling of his wife's chamber. Instantly he broke into a furious rage, and arrested both of them, together with Aldobrandino Rangoni, of Modena, her gentleman, and also, as some say, He was unfortunate, if they were guilty: if they were innocent, he was still more unfortunate; nor is there any possible situation in which I can sincerely approve the last act of the justice of a parent.”— Gibbon's Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii. p. 470, new edition. two of the women of her chamber, as abettors of this sinful act. He ordered them to be brought to a hasty trial, desiring the judges to pronounce sentence, in the accustomed forms, upon the culprits. This sentence was death. Some there were that bestirred themselves in favour of the delinquents, and, amongst others, Ugoccion Contrario, who was all-powerful with Niccolo, and also his aged and muchdeserving, minister, Alberto dal Sale. Both of these, their tears flowing down their cheeks, and upon their knees, implored him for mercy; adducing whatever reasons they could suggest for sparing the offenders, besides those mo tives of honour and decency which might persuade him to conceal from the public so scandalous a deed. But his rage made him inflexible, and, on the instant, he commanded that the sentence should be put in execution. "It was, then, in the prisons of the castle, and exactly in those frightful dungeons which are seen at this day beneath the chamber called the Aurora, at the foot of the Lion's tower, at the top of the street Giovecca, that on the night of the 21st of May were beheaded, first Ugo, and afterwards Parisina. Zoese, he that accused her, conducted the latter under his arm to the place of punishment. She, all along, fancied that she was to be thrown into a pit, and asked, at every step, whether she was yet come to the spot? She was told that her punishment was the axe. She inquired what was become of Ugo, and received for answer, that he was already dead; at the which, sighing grievously, she exclaimed, 'Now, then, I wish not myself to live; and, being come to the block, she stripped herself with her own hands of all her ornaments, and, wrapping a cloth round her head. submitted to the fatal stroke, which terminated the cruel scene. The same was done with Rangoni, who, together with the others, according to two calendars in the library of St. Francesco, was buried in the cemetery of that couvent. Nothing else is known respecting the women. "The Marquess kept watch the whole of that dreadful night, and as he was walking backwards and forwards, inquired of the captain of the castle if Ugo was dead yet? who answered him, Yes. He then gave himself up to the most desperate lamentations, exclaiming, 'Oh! that I too were dead, since I have been hurried on to resolve thus against my own Ugo! And then, gnawing with his teeth a cane which he had in his hand, he passed the rest of the night in sighs and in tears, calling frequently upon his own dear Ugo. On the following day, calling to mind that it would be necessary to make public his justification, seeing that the transaction could not be kept secret, he ordered the narrative to be drawn out upon paper, and sent it to all the courts of Italy. "On receiving this advice, the Doge of Venice, Francesco Foscari, gave orders, but without publishing his reasons, that stop should be put to the preparations for a tourna ment, which, under the auspices of the Marquess, and at the expense of the city of Padua, was about to take place, in the square of St. Mark, in order to celebrate his advancement to the ducal chair. "The Marquess, in addition to what he had already done, from some unaccountable burst of vengeance, commanded that as many of the married women as were well known to him to be faithless, like his Parisina, should, like her, be beheaded. Amongst others, Barberina, or, as some call her, Laodamia Romei, wife of the court judge, underwent this sentence, at the usual place of execution; that is to say, in the quarter of St. Giacomo, opposite the present fortress, beyond St. Paul's. It cannot be told how strange appeared this proceeding in a prince, who, considering his own disposition, should, as it seemed, have been in such cases most indulgent. Some however, there were who did not fail to commend him." The above passage of Frizzi was translated by Lord Byron, and formed a closing note to the original edition of Parisina. -L. E. (1) Ferrara is much decayed and depopulated; but the castle still exists entire; and I saw the court where Parisina and Hugo were beheaded, according to the annal of Gibbon." B. Letters, 1817.-L. E. PARISINA. I. Ir is the hour when from the boughs Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; (1) As twilight melts beneath the moon away. (2) II. But it is not to list to the waterfall And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light "Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower— There glides a step through the foliage thick, And her cheek grows pale-and her heart beats quick; III. And what unto them is the world beside, They only for each other breathe So deep, that did it not decay, The hearts which feel its fiery sway: In that tumultuous tender dream? We know such vision comes no more. With many a lingering look they leave And though they hope, and vow, they grieve, The lip that there would cling for ever, (I) "The opening verses, though soft and voluptuous, are tinged with the same shade of sorrow which gives character and harmony to the whole poem." Jeffrey.—L. E. (2) The lines contained in this section were printed as set While gleams on Parisina's face The Heaven she fears will not forgive her, The frequent sigh, the long embrace, With all the deep and shuddering chill V. And Hugo is gone to his lonely bed, A name she dare not breathe by day, He clasp'd her sleeping to his heart, And dashes on the pointed rock He pluck'd his poniard in its sheath, He could not slay a thing so fair- to music some time since, but belonged to the poem where they now appear; the greater part of which was composed prior to Lara, and other compositions since published. |