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Stanza cxlvi. line 3.

69.
The strange fate

Which tumbles mightiest sovereigns.
Stanza clxxi. lines 6 and 7.

Mary died on the scaffold; Elizabeth of a broken heart; Charles V. a hermit; Louis XIV. a bankrupt in means and glory; Cromwell of anxiety; and, "the greatest is behind," Napoleon lives & prisoner. To these sovereigns a long but superfu ous list might be added of names equally illustrious and unhappy.

70.

Lo, Nemi, navell'd in the woody hills.

Stanza clxxiii. line 1.

The village of Nemi was near the Arician retreat of Egeria, and from the shades which embosomed the temple of Diana, has preserved to this day its distinctive appellation of The Grove. Nemi is but an evening's ride from the comfortable inn of Albano. 71.

And afar

The Tiber winds, and the broad ocean laves
The Latian coast, &c. &c.

Stanza clxxiv. lines 2, 3, and 4.

The whole declivity of the Alban hill is of unrivalled beauty, and from the convent on the highest

Though plundered of all its brass, except the poi: t, which has succeeded to the temple of the Laing which was necessary to preserve the aperture tian Jupiter, the prospect embraces all the objects above; though exposed to repeated fires, though alluded to in the cited stanza; the Mediterranean; sometimes flooded by the river, and always open to the whole scene of the latter half of the Eneid, the rain, no monument of equal antiquity is so and the coast from beyond the mouth of the Tiber well preserved as this rotunda. It passed with lit- to the headland of Circæum and the Cape of Terra tle alteration from the Pagan into the present wor- cina. ship; and so convenient were its niches for the Christian altar, that Michael Angelo, ever studious of ancient beauty, introduced their design as a model in the Catholic church."-Forsyth's Remarks, &c., on Italy, p. 137, sec. edit.

65.

And they who feel for genius may repose Their eyes on honored forms, whose busts around them close. Stanza exlvii. lines 8 and 9.

The site of Cicero's villa may be supposed either at the Grotta Ferrata, or at the Tusculum of Prince Lucien Bonaparte.

The former was thought some years ago the actual site, as may be seen from Middleton's Life of Cicero. At present it has lost something of its credit, except for the Domenichinos. Nine monks of the Greek order live there, and the adjoining villa is a cardinal's summer-house. The other villa, called Rufinella, is on the summit of the hill above Frascati, and many rich remains of Tuscu The Pantheon has been made a receptacle for the lum have been found there, besides seventy-two busts of modern great, or, at least, distinguished, statues of different merit and preservation, and The flood of light which once fell through seven busts. the large orb above on the whole circle of divinities, now shines on a numerous assemblage of mortals, some one or two of whom have been almost deified by the veneration of their countrymen.

men.

66.

Ther 3 is a dungeon, in whose dim, drear light.
Stanza cxlviii. line 1.

From the same eminence are seen the Sabine

hills, embosomed in which lies the long valley of There are several circumstances which Rustica. tend to establish the identity of this valley with the "Ustica" of Horace; and it seems possible that the mosaic pavement which the peasants uncover by throwing up the earth of a vineyard may belong to his villa. Rustica is pronounced short, not according to our stress upon "Ustica cubantis."-It is This and the three next stanzas allude to the more rational to think that we are wrong than that story of the Roman daughter, which is recalled to the inhabitants of this secluded valley have changed the traveller by the site, or pretended site, of that their tone in this word. The addition of the conadventure, now shown at the church of St. Nicho-sonant prefixed is nothing: yet it is necessary to be 18 in carcere. The difficulties attending the full aware that Rustica may be a modern name which trelief of the tale are stated in Historical Illustra- the peasants may have caught from the antiquaries. tions, &c.

67.

Turn to the Mole, which Hadrian rear'd on high.

Stanza clii. line 1. The castle of St. Angelo. See-Historical Illustions. 68.

Stanza cliii.

The villa, or the mosaic, is in a vineyard on a knoll covered with chestnut trees. A stream runs down the valley, and although it is not true, as said in the guide books, that this stream is called Licen za, yet there is a village on a rock at the head of the valley which is so denominated, and which may have taken its name from the Digentia. Licenza contains seven hundred inhabitants. On a peak a little way beyond is Civitella, containing three hundred. On the banks of the Anio, a little before you

This and the six next stanzas have a reference to turn up into Valle Rustica, to the left, about au the church of St. Peter's. For a measurement of hour from the villa, is a town called Vicovaro, the comparative length of this basilica, and the another favorable coincidence with the Varia of the ather great churches of Europe, see the pavement poet. At the end of the valley, towards the Anio, St. Peter's, and the classical Tour through Italy, there is a bare hill, crowned with a little town called i. ii page 123, et seq. chap. iv. Bardela. At the foot of this hill the rivulet of L

cenza flows, and is almost absorbed in a wide sandy bed before it reaches the Anio. Nothing can be more fortunate for the lines of the poet, whether in a metaphorical or direct sense:

that have in our times attained a temporary reputa tion, and is very seldom to be trusted even when he speaks of objects which he must be presumed to have seen. His errors, from the simple exaggera tion to the downright misstatement, are so frequent as to induce a suspicion that he had either never visited the spots described, or had trusted to the The stream is clear high up the valley, but before fidelity of former writers. Indeed the Classical it reaches the hill of Bardela looks green and yel-Tour has every characteristic of a mere compila low like a sulphur rivulet. tion of former notices, strung together upor. a vert

"Me quoties reficit gelidus Digentia rivus,
Quem Mandola bibit rugosus frigore pagus."

Rocca Giovane, a ruined village in the hills, half slender thread of personal observation, and swelled an hour's walk from the vineyard where the pave- out by those decorations which are so easily supplied ment is shown, does seem to be the site of the by a systematic adoption of all the common places fane of Vacuna, and an inscription found there tells of praise, applied to everything, and therefore sigthat this temple of the Sabine Victory was repaired nifying nothing.

cure of our site.

by Vespasian." With these helps, and a position The style which one person thinks cloggy and corresponding exactly to everything which the poet cumbrous, and unsuitable, may be to the taste of has told us of his retreat, we may feel tolerably se- others, and such may experience some salutary ex citement in ploughing through the periods of the The hill which should be Lucretilis is called Classical Tour. It must be said, however, that Campanile, and by following up the rivulet to the polish and weight are apt to beget an expectation of pretended Bandusia, you come to the roots of the value. It is amongst the pains of the damned to higher mountain Gennaro. Singularly enough, the toil up a climax with a huge round stone. only spot of ploughed land in the whole valley is on the knoll where this Bandusia rises.

tu frigus amabile

Fessis vomere tauris

Præbes, et pecori vago."

The tourist had the choice of his words, but there was no such latitude allowed to that of his sentiments. The love of virtue and of liberty, which must have distinguished the character, certainly adorns the pages of Mr. Eustace, and the gentlemanly spirit, so recommendatory either in an au

The peasarts show another spring near the mo-thor or his productions, is very conspicuous throughsaic pavement, which they call " Oradina," and which flows down the hills into a tank, or mill-dam, and then it trickles over into the Digentia. But we must not hope

"To trace the Muses upwards to their spring,"

out the Classical Tour. But these generous quali ties are the foliage of such a performance, and may be spread about it so prominently and profusely as to embarrass those who wish to see and find the fruit at hand. The unction of the divine, and the exhor tations of the moralist, may have made this work something more or better than a book of travels by exploring the windings of the romantic valley in but they have not made it a book of travels; and search of the Bandusian fountain. It seems strange this observation applies more especially to that en that any one should have thought Bandusia a foun- ticing method of instruction conveyed by the per tain of the Digentia-Horace has not let drop a petual introduction of the same Gallic Helot to reel word of it; and this immortal spring has in fact and bluster before the rising generation, and terrify been discovered in possession of the holders of it into decency by the display of all the excesses of many good things in Italy, the monks. It was at the revolution. An animosity against atheists and tached to the church of St. Gervais and Protais regicides in general, and Frenchmen specifically, near Venusia, where it is most likely to be found.† may be honorable, and may be useful as a res ord We shall not be so lucky as a late traveller in find- but that antidote should either be administered in ing the occasional pine still pendant on the poetic any work rather than a tour, or, at least should be villa. There is not a pine in the whole valley, but served up apart, and not so mixed with the whole there are two cypresses, which he evidently took, or mass of information and reflection as to give a bit mistook, for the tree in the ode. The truth is, that terness to every page: for who would choose to have the pine is now, as it was in the days of Virgil, a the antipathies of any man, however just, for his garden tree, and it was not at all likely to be found travelling companions? A tourist, unless he as in the craggy acclivities of the valley of Rustica. pires to the credit of prophecy, is not answerable Horace probably had one of them in the orchard for the changes which may take place in the country close above his farm, immediately overshadowing which he describes; but his reader may very fairly his villa, not on the rocky heights at some distance esteem all his political portraits and deductions ag from his abode. The tourist may have easily sup- so much waste paper, the moment they cease to as posd himself to have seen this pine figured in the sist, and more particularly if they obstruct his ac above cypresses, for the orange and lemon trees tual survey.

which throw such a bloom over his description of Neither encomium nor accusation of any gover the royal gardens at Naples, unless they have been ment or governors, is meant to be here offered; but since displaced, were assuredly only acacias and it is stated as an incontrovertible fact, that the other common garden shrubs. The extreme dis- change operated, either by the address of the late appointment experienced by choosing the Classical imperial system, or by the disappointment of every Tourist as a guide in Italy must be allowed to find expectation by those who have succeeded to the vent in a few observations, which, it is asserted Italian thrones, has been so considerable, and is so without fear of contradiction, will be confirmed apparent, as not only to put Mr. Eustace's antigalby every one who has selected the same conductor lican philippics entirely out of date, but even to through the same country. This author is in fact throw some suspicion upon the competency and canone of the most inaccurate, unsatisfactory writers dor of the author himself. A remarkable example

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Lave been made since Mr. Eustace visited this coun- | been suspended, no attempt would have been made try; but the traveller whom he has thrilled with hor- to anticipate their decision. As it is, those who ror at the projected stripping of the copper from the stand in the relation of posterity to Mr. Eustace cupola of St. Peter's, must be much relieved to find may be permitted to appeal from cotemporary that sacrilege out of the power of the French, or praises, and are perhaps more likely to be just in any other plunderers, the cupola being covered with proportion as the causes of love and hatred are the lead. farther removed. This appeal had, in some measure, If the conspiring voice of otherwise rival critics been made before the above remarks were written; had not given considerable currency to the Classical for one of the most respectable of the Florentine Tour, it would have been unnecessary to warn the publishers, who had been persuaded by the repeated reader, that however it may adorn his library, it inquiries of those on their journey southwards to will be of little or no service to him in his carriage; reprint a cheap edition of the Classical Tour, was, and if the judgment of those critics had hitherto by the concurring advice of returning travellers, induced to abandon his design, although he had already arranged his types and paper, and Lad struck "What, then, will be the astonishment, or rather the horror of my off one or two of the first sheets. reader, when I inform hin

the French committee

The writer of these notes would wish to part (like turned its attention to Saint Peter's, and employed a company of Jews to Mr. Gibbon) on good terms with the Pope and the

estimate and purchase the gold, silver, and bronze that adorn the inside of

the edifice, as well as the copper that covers the vaults and dome on the Cardinals, but he does not think it necessary to exBurde." Chap iv. p. 130, vol. 3. The story about the Jews is positively tend the same discreet silence to their humble par

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AS A SLIGHT BUT MOST SINCERE TOKEN OF ADMIRATION FOR HIS GENIUS, RESPECT FOL HIS CHARACTER, AND GRATITUDE FOR HIS FRIENDSHIP,

THIS PRODUCTION IS INSCRIBED

BY HIS OBLIGED AND AFFECTIONATE SERVANT,

BYRON

ADVERTISEMENT.

THE Tale which these disjointed fragments present, is founded upon circumstances now less common in the East than formerly; either because the ladies are more circumspect than in the "olden time;" or because the Christians have better fortune, or less enterprise. The story, when entire,| contained the adventures of a female slave, who was thrown, in the Mussulman manner, into the sea for infidelity, and avenged by a young Venetian, her lover, at the time the Seven Islands were possessed ry the Republic of Venice, and soon after the A:naouts were beaten back from the Morea, which they had ravaged for some time subsequent to the Russian invasion. The desertion of the Mainotes, on being refused the plunder of Misitra, led to the abandonment of that enterprise, and to the desolation of the Morea, during which the cruelty exercised on all sides was unparalleled even in the annals of the faithful.

THE GIAOUR.

No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb which, gleaming o'er the cliff,
First greets the homeward-veering skiff,
High o'er the land he saved in vain:
When shall such hero live again?

Fair clime! where every season smiles
Benignant o'er those blessed isles,
Which, seen from far Collona's height,
Make glad the heart that hails the sight,
And lend to loneliness delight.
There, mildly dimpling, Ocean's chees
Reflects the tints of many a peak
Caught by the laughing tides that lave
These Edens of the Eastern wave;
And if, at times, a transient breeze
Break the blue crystal of the seas,
Or sweep one blossom from the trees,
How welcome is each gentle air
That wakes and wafts the odors there.
For there the rose o'er crag or vale,
Sultana of the nightingale,"

The maid for whom his melody,

His thousand songs are heard on high, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale: His queen, the garden queen, his rose, Unbent by winds, unchill'd by snows, Far from the winters of the west, By every breeze and season blest, Returns the sweets by Nature given, In softest incense back to heaven; And grateful yields that smiling sky Her fairest hue and fragant sigh. And many a summer flower is there, And many a shade that love might share, And many a grotto, meant for rest, That holds the pirate for a guest:

Whose bark in sheltering cove below
Lurks for the passing peaceful prow
Till the gay mariner's guitar 3

Is heard, and seen the evening star
Then stealing with the muffled oar,
Far shaded by the rocky shore,
Rush the night-prowlers on the prey,
And turn to groans his roundelay.
Strange-that where Nature lov'd to trace
As if for gods, a dwelling place,
And every charm and grace hath mix'd
Within the paradise she fix'd,
There man, enamor'd of distress,
Should mar it into wilderness,

And trample, brute-like, o'er each flower
That tasks not one laborious hour;
Nor claims the culture of his hand
To bloom along the fairy land,
But springs as to preclude his care,
And sweetly woos him-but to spare!
Strange that where all is peace beside
There passion riots in her pride,
And lust and rapine wildly reign
To darken o'er the fair domain.

It is as though the fiends prevail'd
Against the seraphs they assail'd,

And, fixed on heavenly thrones, should dwell,
The freed inheritors of hell;

Do soft the scene, so form'd for joy,
So curst the tyrants that destroy!

He who hath bent him o'er the dead,
Ere the first day of death is fled,
The first dark day of nothingness,
The last of danger and distress,
(Before decay's effacing fingers

Have swept the lines where beauty lingers,)

And mark'd the mild angelic air,

The rapture of repose that's there,
The fix'd, yet tender traits that streak
The languor of the placid cheek,
And-but for that sad shrouded eye,

That fires not, wins not, weeps not, now,
And but for that chill, changeless brow,
Where cold obstruction's apathy 4
Appals the gazing mourner's heart,
As if to him it could impart

The doom he dreads, yet dwells upon;
Yes, but for these, and these alone,
Some moments. ay, one treacherous hour
He still might doubt the tyrant's power;
So fair, so calm, so softly seal'd,
The first, last look by death reveal'd! 5
Such is the aspect of this shore;
"Tis Greece, but living Greece no more!
So coldly sweet, so deadly fair,
We start, for soul is wanting there.
Hers is the loveliness in death,

That parts not quite with parting breath;
But beauty with that fearful bloom,
That hue which haunts it to the tomb,
Expression's last receding ray,

A gilded halo hovering round decay,
The farewell beam of feeling past away!
Spark of that flame, perchance of heavenly birth,
Which gleams, but warms no more its cheri hed
earth!

Clime of the unforgotten brave!

Whose land from plain to mountain-cave
Was freedom's home or glory's grave'
Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
That this is all remains of thee?
Approach, thou craven crouching slave:

Say, is not this Thermopyla?

These waters blue that round you lave,
Oh servile offspring of the free-
Pronounce what sea, what shore is this?
The gulf, the rock of Salamis !
These scenes, their story not unknown
Arise, and make again your own;
Snatch from the ashes of your sires
The embers of their former fires;
And he who in the strife expires
Will add to theirs a name of fear
That tyranny shall quake to hear,
And leave his sons a hope, a fame
They too will rather die than shame.
For freedom's battle once begun,
Bequeath'd by bleeding sire to son,
Though baffled oft, is ever won.
Bear witness, Greece, thy living page,
Attest it many a deathless age!
While kings, in dusty darkness hid,
Have left a nameless pyramid,

Thy heroes, though the general doom
Hath swept the column from their tomb
A mightier monument command,
The mountains of their native land!
There points thy muse to stranger's eye
The graves of those that cannot die!
"Twere long tc tell, and sad to trace,
Each step from splendor to disgrace;
Enough-no foreign foe could quell
Thy soul, till from itself it fell;
Yes! self-abasement paved the way
To villain-bonds and despot sway.

What can he tell who treads thy shore?
No legend of thine olden time,
No theme on which the muse might soar
High, as thine own in days of yore,

When man was worthy of thy clime;
The hearts within thy vallies bred,
The fiery souls that might have led
Thy sons to deeds sublime,
Now crawl from cradle to the grave,
Slaves-nay, the bondsmen of a slave
And callous, save to crime;
Stain'd with each evil that pollutes
Mankind, where least above the brutes;
Without even savage virtue blest,
Without one free or valiant breast.
Still to the neighboring ports they waft
Proverbial wiles, and ancient craft;
In this the subtle Greek is found,
For this, and this alone, renown'd
In vain might liberty invoke
The spirit to its bondage broke,

Or raise the neck that courts the yoke.

No more her sorrows i Ddewall,
Yet this will be a mournful tale,
And they who listen may believe,
Who heard it first had cause to grieve.

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