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long hair

following passages are striking. A messenger Sale.

Herding with the other females says,

Like frighten'd antelopes.

No: Like the dam
“ Prince Salemenes doth implore the king of the young lion, femininely raging,
To arın himself, although but for a moment, She urged on, with her voice and gesture, and
And show himself unto the soldiers : his

Her floating hair and flashing eyes, the soldiers Sole presence in this instant might do more

In the pursuit. Than hosts can do in his behalf.

Sale. Indeed!

What, ho!

You see, this night My armour there.

Made warriors of more than me. I paused
And wilt thou ?

To look upon her, and her kindled cheek;

Will I not? Her large black eyes, that flash'd through her Ho, there !-But seek not for the buckler; 'tis Too heavy :-a light cuirass and my sword. As it stream'd o'er her; her blue veins that rose Myr. How I do love thee!

Along her most transparent brow; her nostril Sard.

I ne'er doubted it. Dilated from its symmetry; her lips Myr. But now I know thee.

Apart; her voice that clove through all the din, Sard. (arming himself)

As a lute's pierceth through the cymbal's clash, Give me the cuirass-so: my baldric! now Jarr'd but not drown'd by the loud brattling; her My sword: I had forgot the helm, where is it? Waved arms, more dazzling with their own born That's well-no, 'tis too heavy : you mistake, too

whiteness It was not this I meant, but that which bears Than the steel her hand held, which she caught up A diadem around it.

From a dead soldier's grasp; all these things made
Sire, I deem'd

Her seem unto the troops a prophetess
That too conspicuous from the precious stones Of victory, or Victory herself
To risk your sacred brow beneath-and, trust me, Come down to hail us hers.
This is of better metal though less rich.

Sale. (in retiring.) Myrrha !
Sard. You deem'd! Are you too turn'd a rebel ? Myr. Prince.

Sale. You have shown a soul to-night, Your part is to obey: return, and-no

Which, were he not my sister's lord-But now It is too late I will go forth without it.

I have no time: thou lov'st the king ? Sfero. At least wear this.


I love Sard.

Wear Caucasus ! why, 'tis Sardanapalus. A mountain on my temples.


But wouldst have him king still ? Myrrha, retire unto a place of safety.

Myr. I would not have him less than what he Why went you not forth with the other damsels ?

should be. Myr. Because my place is here.

Sale. Well, then, to have him king, and yours, I dare all things

and all Except survive what I have loved, to be

He should, or should not be ; to have him live, A rebel's booty : forth, and do your bravest." Let him not sink back into luxury.

pp. 85–89.

You have more power upon his spirit than

Wisdom within these walls, or fierce rebellion The noise of the conflict now reaches her Raging without: look well that he relapse not. in doubtful clamour; and a soldier comes in,

(Exit SALEMENES. of whom she asks how the King bears him- Sard. Myrrha! what, at whispers self—and is answered,

With my siern brother? I shall soon be jealous.

Myr. (smiling.) You have cause, sire; for on the “ AU. Like a king. I must find Sfero,

earth there breathes not And bring him a new spear and his own helmet. A man more worthy of a woman's loveHe fights till now bare-headed, and by far

A soldier's trust-a subject's reverenceToo much exposed. The soldiers knew his face, A king's esteem-the whole world's admiration ! And the foe too ; and in the moon's broad light,

Sard. Praise him, but not so warmly. I must not His silk tiara and his flowing hair

Hear those sweet lips grow eloquent in aught Make him a mark too royal. Every arrow

That throws me into the shade ; yet you speak Is pointed at the fair hair and fair features,

truth."-pp. 100—105. And the broad fillet which crowns both. The king! the king fights as he revels.

After this, there is an useless and unnatural Myr.

'Tis no dishonour-no— scene with the Queen, whose fondness her 'Tis no dishonour! to have loved this man.

erring husband meets with great kindness I almost wish now, what I never wish'd Before, that he were Grecian. If Alcides

and remorse. It is carefully, but rather tediWere shamed in wearing Lydian Omphale's

ously written; and ends, a great deal too long She-garb, and wielding her vile distaff; surely after it ought to have ended, by Salemenes He, who springs up a Hercules at once,

carrying off his sister in a fit. Nurs'd in effeminale arts from youth to manhood, The fifth act gives, rather languidly, the And rushes from the banquet to the battle,

consummation of the rebellion. Salemenes As though it were a bed of love, deserves That a Greek girl should be his paramour,

is slain; and the King, in spite of a desperate And a Greek bard his minstrel, a Greek tomb

resistance, driven back to his palace and its His monument !"'--pp. 92, 93,

gardens. He then distributes his treasure to

his friends, and forces them to embark on the Soon after, she rushes out in agony to meet river, which is still open for their escape; the fate that seemed impending. The King, only requiring, as the last service of his faithhowever, by his daring valour, restores the ful veterans, that they should build up a huge fortune of the fight; and returns, with all his pile of combustibles around the throne in his train, to the palace. The scene that ensues

presence-chamber, and leave him there with is very masterly and characteristic. Turning Myrrha alone; and commanding then, when to Myrrha

they had cleared the city with their galleys, “Know'st thou, my brother, where I lighted on

to sound their trumpets as a signal of safety. This minion

We shall close our extracts with a few frag.


ments of the final scene. This is his fare- Having gone so much at length into this well to the troops.

drama, which we take to be much the best in "Sard.

My best! my last friends! the volume, we may be excused for saying Let's not unman each other-part at once :

little of the others. « The two Foscari,' we All farewells should be sudden, when for ever, think, is a failure. The interest is founded Else they make an eternity of moments,

upon feelings so peculiar or overstrained, as And clog the last sad sands of life with tears. Hence, and be happy : trust me, I am not

to engage no sympathy; and the whole story Now to be pitied ; or far more for what

turns on incidents that are neither pleasing Is past ihan present ;-for the future, 'tis nor natural. The Younger Foscari undergoes In ihe hands of the deities, if such

(well. the rack twice (once in the hearing of the There be : I shall know soon. Farewell - fare. audience), merely because he has chosen to

Myr. These men were honest: It is comfort stiii feign himself a traitor, that he might be That our last looks should be on loving faces. (me! brought back from undeserved banishment,

Sard. And lovely ones, my beautiful!--but hear and dies at last of pure dotage on this sentiIf at this moment, for we now are on

ment; while the Elder Foscari submits, in The brink, thou feel'st an inward shrinking from profound and immovable silence, to this treatThis leap through flame into the future, say it :

ment of his son, lest, by seeming to feel for I shall not love ihee less; nay, perhaps more, his unhappy fate, he should be implicated in For yielding to thy nature : and ihere's time

his guilt—though he is supposed guiltless. Yet for thee to escape hence. Myr:

Shall I light

The "Marino Faliero”--though rather more One of the torches which lie heap'd beneath vigorously written—is scarcely more successThe ever-burning lamp that burns without, ful. The story, in so far as it is original in Before Baal's shrine, in the adjoining hall ?

our drama, is extremely improbable; though, Sard. Do so. Is that thy answer? Myr. Thou shalt see.”—pp. 162, 163.

like most other very improbable stories, de

rived from authentic sources: But, in the There is then a long invocation to the main, it is not original-being indeed merely shades of his ancestors; at the end of which, another Venice Preserved ; and continually Myrrha returns with a lighted torch and a recalling, though certainly without eclipsing, cup of wine-and says,

the memory of the first. Except that saffier

“Lo! is driven to join the conspirators by the natuI've lit the lamp which lights us to the stars. ral impulse of love and misery, and the Doge Sard. And the cup ?

by a resentment so outrageous as to exclude 'Tis my country's custom to all sympathy—and that the disclosure, which Make a libation to the gods. Sard.

And mine

is produced by love in the old play, is here To make libations amongst men. I've not

ascribed (with less likelihood) to mere friendForgot the custom ; and although alone,

ship, the general action and catastrophe of Will drain one draught in memory of many the two pieces are almost identical—while, A joyous banquet past.

with regard to the writing and management,

it must be owned that, if Lord Byron has most My Myrrha ! dost thou truly follow me, Freely and fearlessly?

sense and vigour, Otway has by far the most Myr.

And dost thou think passion and pathos; and that, though our new A Greek girl dare not do for love, that which conspirators are better orators and reasoners An Indian widow braves for custom?

than the gang of Pierre and Reynault, the Sard.


tenderness of Belvidera is as much more We but await the signal. Myr. It is long

touching, as it is more natural than the stoical In sounding.

and self-satisfied decorum of Angiolina. The Sard. Now, farewell; one last embrace. abstract, or argument of the piece, is shortly Myr. Embrace, but not the last ; there is one as follows.

[ashes. Sard. True, the commingling fire will mix our fourscore years of age, marries a young beauty

Marino Faliero, Doge of Venice, and nearly Myr. Then farewell, thou earth! And loveliest spot of earth! farewell Ionia !

of the name of Angiolina—and, soon after Be thou still free and beautiful, and far

their union, a giddy young nobleman, whom Aloof from desolation! My last prayer (thee! he had had occasion to rebuke in public, sticks Was for thee, my last thoughts, save one, were of up some indecent lines on his chair of state; Sard. And that?

purporting that he was the husband of a fair Myr.

[The trumpet of Pania sounds wilhout. wife, whom he had the honour of keeping for Sard. Hark!

the benefit of others. The Doge having disMyr. Now !

covered the author of this lampoon, complains Sard.

Adieu, Assyria! of him to the Senate-who, upon proof of the I loved thee well, my own, my fathers' land, charge, sentence him to a month's confine. And betier as my country than my kingdom.

ment. The Doge, considering this as alto. I satiated thee with peace and joys; and this Is my reward! and now I owe thee nothing.

gether inadequate to the reparation of his inNot even a grave.

(He mounts the pile. jured honour, immediately conceives a most Now, Myrrha !

insane and unintelligible animosity at the Myr.

Art thou ready! whole body of the nobility-and, in spite of Sard. As the torch in thy grasp.

the dignified example and gentle soothing of (Myrrua fires the pile. Angiolina, puts himself at the head of a conMyr. 'Tis fired! I come. (As Myrrha springs forward to throw herself spiracy, which had just been organised for into the flames, the Curtain falls."

the overthrow of the government by certain pp. 164–167. plebeian malecontents, who had more sub

Yet pause,


Is yours.

stantial wrongs and grievances to complain of. a truth and a luxuriance in the description of One of the faction, however, had a friend in the rout, which mark at once the hand of a the Senate whom he wished to preserve; and master, and raise it to a very high rank as a goes to him, on the eve of the insurrection, piece of poetical painting-while the moonwith words of warning, which lead to its light view from the window is equally grand timely detection. The Doge and his asso- and beautiful, and reminds us of those magciates are arrested and brought to trial; and nificent and enchanting lookings forth in the former, after a vain intercession from An- Manfred, which have left, we will consess, giolina, who candidly admits the enormity of far deeper traces on our fancy, than any thing his guilt, and prays only for his life, is led, in in the more elaborate work before us.. Lioni his ducal robes, to the place where he was says, first consecrated a sovereign, and there publicly decapitated by the hands of the execu

- I will try tioner.

Whether the air will calm my spirits : 'tis
We can afford but a few specimens of the A goodly night; the cloudy wind which blew

(ness! execution. The following passage, in which And the broad moon has brighten’d. What a stillthe ancient Doge, while urging his gentle

(Goes to an open lattice. spouse to enter more warmly into his resent. And what a contrast with the scene I left, ment

, reminds her of the motives that had Where the tall torches' glare, and silver lamps' led him to seek her alliance, (her father's re- More pallid gleam, along the tapestried walls, quest , and his own desire to afford her orphan Spread over ihe reluctant gloom which haunts

Those vast and dimly-latticed galleries helplessness the highest and most unsuspect. A dazzling mass of artificial light,

(&c. ed protection,) though not perfectly dramatic, which show'd all things, but nothing as they were, has great sweetness and dignity; and reminds The music, and the banquet, and ihe wineus, in its rich verbosity, of the moral and The garlands, the rose odours, and the flowers mellifluous parts of Massinger.

The sparkling eyes and flashing ornaments

The white arms and the raven hair-the braids "Doge. For love, romantic love, which in my And bracelets; swanlike bosoms, and the necklace, I knew to be illusion, and ne'er saw [youth An India in itself, yet dazzling not Lasting, but often fatal, it had been

The eye like what it circled; the thin robes No lure for me, in my most passionate days, Floating like light clouds 'twixt our gaze and heaven: And could not be so now, did such exist.

The many-twinkling feet, so small and sylphlike, But such respect, and mildly paid regard

Suggesting the more secret symmetry As a true feeling for your welfare, and

or the fair forms which terminate so well! A free compliance with all honest wishes;

All the delusion of the dizzy scene, A kindness to your virtues, watchfulness

Its false and true enchantments-art and nature, Not shown, but shadowing o'er such little failings which swam before my giddy eyes, that drank As youth is apt in, so as not to check

The sight of beauty as the parch'd pilgrim's Rashly, but win you from them ere you knew On Arab sands the false mirage, which offers You had been won, but thought the change your A lucid lake to his eluded thirst,

Are gone.-Around me are the stars and watersA pride not in your beauty, but your conduct- Worlds mirror'd in the ocean! goodlier sight A trust in you—a patriarchal love,

Than torches glared back by a gaudy glass ; And not a doting homage--friendship, faith- And the great element, which is 10 space Sach estimation in your eyes as these

What ocean is to earth, spreads its blue depths, Might claim, I hoped for."'

Soften'd with the first breathings of the spring; "I trusted to the blood of Loredano

The high moon sails upon her beauteous way, Pure in your veins; I trusted to the soul [you- Serenely smoothing o'er the lofty walls God gave you-to the truths your father taught of those tall

piles and sea-girt palaces, To your belief in heaven to your mild virtues Whose porphyry pillars, and whose costly fronts, To your own faith and honour, for my own.- Fraught with the orient spoil of many marbles, Where light thoughts are lurking, or the vanities Like altars ranged along ihe broad canal, Of worldly pleasure rankle in the heart,

Seem each a trophy of some mighty deed Or sensual throbs convulse it, well I know Rear'd up from oui the waters, scarce less strangely "Twere hopeless for humanity to dream

Than those more massy and mysterious giants Of honesty in such infected blood,

Of architecture, those Titanian fabrics, Although 'twere wed to him it covets most : Which point in Egypt's plains to times that have An incarnation of the poet's god

No other record! All is gentle : nought In all his marble-chiseli'd beauty, or

Stirs rudely; but, congenial with the night, The demi-deity, Alcides, in

Whatever walks is gliding like a spirit. His majesty of superhuman manhood,

The tinklings of some vigilant guitars Would not suffice to bind where virtue is not.” Of sleepless lovers to a wakeful mistress,

pp, 50–53.

And cautious opening of the casement, showing

That he is not unheard ; while her young hand, The fourth Act opens with the most poeti- Fair as the moonlight of which it seems part, cal and brilliantly written scene in the play- So delicately white, it trembles in though it is a soliloquy, and altogether alien The act of opening the forbidden lattice, from the business of the piece. Lioni, a Thrill like his lyre-strings at the sight!-the dash young nobleman, returns home from a splen- Phosphoric of the oar, or rapid iwinkle did assembly, rather out of spirits; and, of the far lights of skimming gondolas, opening his palace window for air, contrasts And the responsive voices of the choir the tranquillity of the night scene which lies of boatmen, answering back with verse for verso before him, with the feverish turbulence and Some dusky shadow chequering the Rialto; glittering enchantments of that which he has Are all the sights and sounds which here pervade

Some glimmering palace roof, or tapering spire, just quitted. Nothing can be finer than this The ocean-born and earth-commanding city. Dicture in both its compartments. There is

pp. 99-101.


He then says,

We can now afford but one other extract;| nor expect, by any exaggerations, so to rouse -and we take it from the grand and prophetic and rule our sympathies, by the senseless rant of which the unhappy Doge delivers him- anger of an old man, and the prudish proprieself at the place of execution. He asks ties of an untempted woman, as by the whether he may speak; and is told he may, agency of the great and simple passions with but that the people are too far off to hear him. which, in some of their degrees, all men are

familiar, and by which alone the Dramatic

Muse has hitherto wrought her miracles. I speak to Time and to Eternity,

Of “Cain, a Mystery," we are constrained Of which I grow a portion—not to man! Ye elements ! in which to be resolved

to say, that, though it abounds in beautiful I hasten ! Ye blue waves! which bore my banner, passages, and shows more power perhaps than Ye winds! which flutter'd o'er as if you loved it, any of the author's dramatical compositions, And fill'd my swelling sails, as they were wafted we regret very much that it should ever havé To many a triumph! Thou, my native earth, Which I have bled for, and ihou foreign earth,

been published. It will give great scandal Which drank this willing blood from many a

and offence to pious persons in general-and wound !

[Thou? may be the means of suggestiug the most Thou sun! which shinest on these things, and painful doubts and distressing perplexities, to Who kindlest and who quenchest suns !-Attest! hundreds of minds that might never otherI am not innocent-But are these guiltless ? wise have been exposed to such dangerous I perish : But not unavenged : For ages

disturbance. It is nothing less than absurd, Float up from the abyss of time to be, And show these eyes, before they close, the doom in such a case, to observe, that Lucifer cannot Of this proud city !-Yes, the hours

well be expected to talk like an orthodox Are silently engendering of the day,

divine-and that the conversation of the first When she, who built 'gainst Attila a bulwark, Rebel and the first Murderer was not likely Shall yield, and bloodlessly and basely yield to be very unexceptionable-or to plead the Unto a bastard Alila ; without Shedding so much blood in her last defence

authority of Milton, or the authors of the old As these old veins, oft drain'd in shielding her,

mysteries, for such offensive colloquies. The Shall pour in sacrifice.-She shall be bought !

fact is, that here the whole argument—and a Then, when the Hebrews in thy palaces,

very elaborate and specious argument it is The Hun in thy high places, and the Greek is directed against the goodness or the power Walks o'er thy mart, and smiles on it for his ;

of the Deity, and against the reasonableness When thy patricians beg their bitter bread In narrow streets, and in their shameful need

of religion in general; and there is no answer Make their nobility a plea for pity ;--when

so much as attempted to the offensive docThy sons are in the lowest scale of being, trines that are so strenuously inculcated. The Slaves turn'd o'er to the vanquish'd by the victors, Devil and his pupil have the field entirely to Despised by cowards for greater cowardice, themselves and are encountered with nothAnd scorn'd even by the vicious for their vices, When

all the ills of conquer'd states shall cling thee, ing but feeble obtestations and unreasoning Vice without splendour, sin without relief;

horrors. Nor is this argumentative blasphemy When these and more are heavy on thee, when a mere incidental deformity that arises in the Smiles without mirth, and pastimes without plea- course of an action directed to the common Youth without honour, age without respect, (sure, sympathies of our nature. It forms, on the Meanness and weakness, and a sense of woe 'Gainst which thou will not strive, and dar’st not occupies, we should think, not less than two

contrary, the great staple of the piece-and Have made thee last and worst of peopled deserts, thirds of it; so that it is really difficult to beThen-in the last gasp of thine agony,

lieve that it was written for any other purpose Amidst thy many murders, think of mine! than to inculcate these doctrines—or at least to Thou den of drunkards with the blood of princes ! discuss the question on which they bear. Now, Gehenna of the waters! thou sea Sodom! Thus I devote thee to the infernal gods !

we can certainly have no objection to Lord Thee and thy serpent seed !

Byron writing an Essay on the Origin of Evil [llere the Doge turns, and addresses the Exe. -and sifting the whole of that vast and per

cutioner. plexing subject with the force and the free

Slave, do thine office ! dom that would be expected and allowed in Strike as I struck the foe! Strike as I would Have struck those tyrants ! Strike deep as my not think it fair, thus to argue it partially and

a fair philosophical discussion. But we do Strike--and but once !-pp. 162–165.

con amore, in the name of Lucifer and Cain;

without the responsibility or the liability to It will not now be difficult to estimate the answer that would attach to a philosophical character of this work.—As a play, it is defi- disputant—and in a form which both doubles cient in the attractive passions ; in probability, the danger, if the sentiments are pernicious, and in depth and variety of interest; and and almost precludes his opponents from the revolts throughout, by the extravagant dis possibility of a reply. proportion which the injury, bears to the Philosophy and Poetry are both very good unmeasured resentment with which it is things in their way; but, in our opinion, they pursued. Lord Byron is, undoubtedly, a poet do not go very well together. It is but a poor of the very first order--and has talents to and pedantic sort of poetry that seeks chiefly reach the very highest honours of the drama. to embody metaphysical subtilties and abstract But he must not again disdain love and am- deductions of reason--and a very suspicious bition and jealousy. He must not substitute philosophy that aims at establishing its docwhat is merely bizarre and extraordinary, for trines by appeals to the passions and the what is naturally and universally interesting-fancy. Though such arguments, however,


curse !

are worth little in the schools, it does not than all the rest; and whicn lead irresistibly collow that their effect is inconsiderable in the to topics, upon which it seems at last neces. world. On the contrary, it is the mischief of sary that we should express an opinion. We all poetical paradoxes, that, from the very allude to the concluding part of the Appendix limits and end of poetry, which deals only in to “ The Two Foscari," in which Lord Byron obvious and glancing views, they are never resumes his habitual complaint of the hostilbrought to the fair test of argument. An al- ity which he has experienced from the wrilusion to a doubtful topic will often pass for a ters of his own country--makes reprisals on gelinitive conclusion on it; and, when clothed those who have assailed his reputation-and in beautiful language, may leave the most inflicts, in particular, a memorable chastisepernicious impressions behind. In the courts ment upon the unhappy Laureate, interspersed of morality, poets are unexceptionable wit- with some political reflections of great weight nesses; they may give in the evidence, and and authority. depose to facts whether good or ill; but we It is not however with these, or the merits demur to their arbitrary and self-pleasing of the treatment which Mr. Southey has either summings up. They are suspected judges, given or received, that we have now any conand not very often safe advocates; where great cern. But we have a word or two to say on questions are concerned, and universal prin- the griefs of Lord Byron himself. He comciples brought to issue. But we shall not plains bitterly of the detraction by which he press this point farther at present.

has been assailed--and intimates that his We shall give but one specimen, and that works have been received by the public with the least offensive we can find, of the pre- far less cordiality and favour than he was envailing tone of this extraordinary drama. It titled to expect. We are constrained to say is the address (for we cannot call it prayer) that this appears to us a very extraordinary with which Cain accompanies the offering of mistake. In the whole course of our experihis sheaves on the altar—and directed to be ence, we cannot recollect a single author who delivered, standing erect.

has had so little reason to complain of his ** Spirit! whate'er or whosoe'er thou art,

reception—to whose genius the public has Omnipotent, it may be-and, if good,

been so early and so constantly just—to whose Shown in the exemption of thy deeds from evil;

faults they have been so long and so signally Jehovah upon earth! and God in heaven! indulgent. From the very first, he must have And it may be with other names, because

been aware that he offended the principles Thine attributes seem many, as thy works:- and shocked the prejudices of the majority, If thou must be propitiated with prayers, Take them! If thou must be induced with altars, by his sentiments, as much as he delighted And soften'd with a sacrifice, receive them!

them by his talents. Yet there never was an Two beings here erect them unto thee. (smokes author so universally and warmly applauded, If thou lov'st blood, the shepherd's shrine, which so gently admonished—so kindly entreated to On my right hand, hath shed it for thy service, look more heedfully to his opinions. He took In the first of his flock, whose limbs now reek the praise, as usual, and rejected the advice. In sanguinary incense to thy skies;

As he grew in fame and authority, he aggraOr if the sweet and blooming fruits of earth, And milder seasons, which the unstain'd turf

vated all his offences-clung more fondly to I spread them on now offers in the face

all he had been reproached with-and only Of the broad sun which ripen'd them, may seem took leave of Childe Harold to ally himself to Good to thee, inasmuch as they have not

Don Juan! That he has since been talked Suffer'd in limb or life, and rather form

of, in public and in private, with less unminA sample of thy works, than supplication To look on ours! If a shrine without victim,

gled admiration—that his name is now menAnd altar without gore, may win thy favour,

tioned as often for censure as for praise—and Look on it! and for him who dresseih it,

that the exultation with which his countryHe is-such as thou mad'st him; and seeks nothing men once hailed the greatest of our living Which must be won by kneeling. If he's evil,

poets, is now alloyed by the recollection of Strike him! thou art omnipotent, and may'st,For what can he oppose ? If he be good,

the tendency of his writings—is matter of Strike him, or spare him, as thou wilt! since all

notoriety to all the world; but matter of surRests upon thee; and good and evil seem

prise, we should imagine, to nobody but Lord To have no power themselves, save in thy will;

Byron himself. And whether that be good or ill I know not, He would fain persuade himself, indeed, Not being omnipotent, nor fit to judge

that for this decline of his popularity-or Omnipotence; but merely to endure Its mandate—which thus far I have endured."

rather this stain upon its lustre—for he is still pp. 424, 425.

popular beyond all other example—and it is

only because he is so that we feel any interest The catastrophe follows soon after, and is in this discussion ;-he is indebted, not to any brought about with great dramatic skill and actual demerits of his own, but to the jealousy effect. The murderer is sorrowful and con- of those he has supplanted, the envy of those founded—his parents reprobate and renounce he has outshone, or the party rancour of those hin-his wife clings to him with eager and against whose corruptions he has testified;unhesitating affection; and they wander forth while, at other times, he seems inclined to together into the vast solitude of the universe. insinuate, that it is chiefly because he is a

We have now gone through the poetical Gentleman and a Nobleman that plebeian cenpart of this volume, and ought here, perhaps, sors have conspired to bear him down! We io close our account of it. But there are a scarcely think, however, that these theories (ew pages in prose that are more talked of I will pass with' Lord Byron himself-we are

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