Apropos-Is your play then accepted at last? Both. At last? Lady Blueb. Come, a truce with all tartness; -the joy of my heart Ink. Why I thought-that's to say-there Is to see Nature's triumph o'er all that is art. had pass'd [know Wild Nature !-Grand Shakspeare! A few green-room whispers, which hinted,-you Both. That the taste of the actors at best is so-so. Both. Sir, the green-room's in rapture, and so's the Committee. ['pity Ink. Ay-yours are the plays for exciting our And fear, as the Greek says: for purging the mind,' I doubt if you'll leave us an equal behind. For a spice of your wit in an epilogue's aid. Is it cast yet? And down Aristotle ! For the poet, who, singing of pedlars and asses, [pass. Of the soul: 'tis the seizing of shades as they And making them substance; 'tis something [more wine? divine! Ink. Shall I help you, my friend, to a little Both. I thank you; not any more, sir, till 1 dine. [phrey S to-day? Ink. Apropos-Do you dine with Sir HumTra. I should think with Duke Humphrey was more in your way. [look Ink. It might be of yore; but we authors now To the Knight, as a landlord, much more that the Duke. The truth is, each writer now quite at his ease is But 'tis now nearly five, and I must to the Park Ink. Then why not unearth it in one of your Scamp. It is only time past which comes his under my strictures. 'tis dark. Sir George Beaumont. [EDIT] Earl of Lonsdale, who offered to equip a 74 manefam own cost at the close of the American war. [EDIT] Fact from life, with the words. Sir Humphrey Davy. (EDIT.] CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE: A ROMAUNT. 'L'univers est une espèce de livre, dont on n'a lu que la première page quand on n'a vu que son pays. J'en ai feuilleté un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouvé également mauvaises. Cet examen ne m'a point été infructueux. Je haïssais ma patrie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi lesquels j'ai vécu, m'ont réconcilié avec elle. Quand je n'aurais tiré d'autre bénéfice de mes voyages que celui-là, je n'en regretterais ni les frais ni les fatigues.'-LE COSMO POLITE. PREFACE TO THE FIRST AND SECOND CANTOS. THE following poem was written, for the most part, amidst the scenes which it attempts to describe. It was begun in Albania; and the parts relative to Spain and Portugal were composed from the author's observations in those countries. Thus much it may be necessary to state for the correctness of the descriptions. The scenes attempted to be sketched are in Spain, Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, and Greece. There, for the present, the poem stops: its reception will de termine whether the author may venture to conduct his readers to the capital of the East, through Ionia and Phrygia: these two cantos are merely experimental. A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some connection to the piece; which, however, makes no pretensions to regularity. It has been suggested to me by friends, on whose opinions I set a high value, that in this fictitious character, Childe Harold,' I may incur the suspicion of having intended some real personage: this I beg leave, once for all, to disclaimHarold is a child of imagination, for the purpose I have stated. In some very trivial particulars, and those merely local, there might be grounds for such a notion; but in the main points, I should hope, none whatever. It is almost superfluous to mention that the appellation 'Childe,' as 'Childe Waters,' 'Childe Childers,' &c., is used as more consonant with the old structure of versification which I have adopted. The 'Good Night,' in the beginning of the first canto, was suggested by 'Lord Maxwell's Good Night,' in the Border Minstrelsy, edited by Mr Scott. With the different poems which have been published on Spanish subjects, there may be found some slight coincidence in the first part which treats of the Peninsula; but it can only be casual, as, with the exception of a few concluding stanzas, the whole of this poem was written in the Levant. The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our most successful poets, admits of every variety Dr Beattie makes the following observation :-'Not long ago, I began a poem in the style and stanza of Spenser, in which I propose to give full scope to my inclination, and be either droll or pathetic, descriptive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humour strikes me: for, if I mis take not, the measure which I have adopted admits equally of all these kinds of composition. Strengthened in my opinion by such authority, and by the example of some in the highest order of Italian poets, I shall make no apology for attempts at similar variations in the following composition; satisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their failure must be in the execution rather than in the design, sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie. LONDON, February 1812. ADDITION TO THE PREFACE. I HAVE now waited till almost all our periodical journals have distributed their usual portion of criticism. To the justice of the generality of their criticisms I have nothing to object: it would ill become me to quarrel with their very slight decree of censure, when, perhaps, if they had Beattie's Letters. been less kind, they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, to all and each my best thanks for their liberality, on one point alone shall I venture an observation. Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very indifferent character of the 'vagrant Childe (whom, notwithstanding many hints to the contrary, I still maintain to be a fictitious personage), it has been stated that, besides the anachronism, he is very unknightly, as the times of the Knights were times of Love, Honour, and so forth. Now, it so happens that the good old times, when 'T'amour du bon vieux tems, l'amour antique' flourished, were the most profligate of all possible centuries. Those who have any doubts on this subject may consult Sainte-Palaye, passim, and more particularly vol. ii. p. 69. The vows of chivalry were no better kept than any other vows whatsoever; and the songs of the Troubadours were not more decent, and certainly were much less refined, than those of Ovid. The 'Cours d'amour, parlemens d'amour, ou de courtésie et de gentilesse,' had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness. See Roland on the same subject with Saint-Palaye. Whatever other objection may be urged to that most unamiable personage, Childe Harold, he was so far perfectly knightly in his attributes-No waiter but a knight templar.'* By the by, I fear that Sir Tristrem and Sir Lancelot were no better than they should be, although very poetical personages and true knights, sans peur,' though not 'sans reproche.' If the story of the institution of the 'Garter' be not a fable, the knights of that order have for several centuries borne the badge of a Countess of Salisbury, of indifferent memory. So much for chivalry. Burke need not have regretted that its days are over, though MarieAntoinette was quite as chaste as most of those in whose honour lances were shivered and knights unhorsed. Before the days of Bayard, and down to those of Sir Joseph Banks (the most chaste and celebrated of ancient and modern times), few exceptions will be found to this statement; and I fear a little investigation will teach us not to regret these monstrous mummeries of the middle ages. I now leave Childe Harold' to live his day, such as he is. It had been more agreeable, and certainly more easy, to have drawn an amiable character. It had been easy to varnish over his faults, to make him do more and express less; but he never was intended as an example, further than to show that early perversion of mind and morals leads to satiety of past pleasures and disappointment in new ones, and that even the beauties of nature and the stimulus of travel (except ambition, the most powerful of all excitements) are lost on a soul so constituted, or rather misdirected. Had I proceeded with the poem, this character would have deepened as he drew to the close; for the outline which I once meant to fill up for him was, with some exceptions, the sketch of a modern Timon, perhaps a poetical Zeluco. LONDON, 1813. TO IANTHE.+ NOT in those climes where I have late been To such as see thee not my words were weak; To those who gaze on thee, what language could they speak? Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art, Young Peri of the West !-'tis well for me Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the gazelle's, Could I to thee be ever more than friend : To one so young my strain I would commend, But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend. • The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement. Childe Harold was he hight :-but whence his name And lineage long, it suits me not to say; Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame, And had been glorious in another day : But one sad losel soils a name for aye, However mighty in the olden time; Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay, Nor florid prose, nor honey'd lies of rhyme, Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime. The little village of Castri stands partly on the site of Delphi. Along the path of the mountain, from Chrysso, are the remains of sepulchres hewn in and from the rock; one,' said the guide, of a king who broke his neck hunting.' His Majesty had certainly chosen the fittest spot for such an achievement. A little above Castri is a cave, supposed the Pythian, of immense depth; the upper part of it is paved, and now a cow-house. On the other side of Castri stands a Greek monastery: some way above which is the cleft in the rock, with a range of caverns difficult of ascent, and apparently leading to the interior of the mountain, probably to the Corycian Cavern mentioned by Pausanias. From this part descend the fountain and the 'Dews of Castalie.' IV. Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun, Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite s sad cell. V. For he through Sin's long labyrinth had rur, Nor made atonement when he did amiss, Had sigh'd to many, though he loved but one, And that loved one, alas, could ne'er be his. Ah, happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss Had been pollution unto aught so chaste: Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss, And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste, Nor calm domestic peace had ever deign d to taste. |