saw An honest man, my neighbor (pointing | The pretty harmless boy was slain! I to PAOLO) there he stands! Was struck, struck like a dog, by one who wore The corse, the mangled corse, and when I cried For vengeance-Rouse, ye Romans! Rouse, ye slaves! Have ye brave sons? Look in the next fierce brawl To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look To see them live, torn from your arms, distained, Dishonored: and, if ye dare call for justice, Be answered by the lash. Yet, this is Rome, That sate on her seven hills, and from her throne Of beauty ruled the world! Yet, we are Romans! Why; in that elder day, to be a Roman Was greater than a king! And once again, Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread Of either Brutus! once again, I swear, The eternal city shall be free; her sons Shall walk with princes. BRYAN WALLER PROCTER (BARRY CORNWALL). 1787-1874. [BRYAN WALLER PROCTER was born in London, Nov. 21, 1787. He was educated, wich Byron, at Harrow; studied as a solicitor in the country; returned to London to live in 1807. His period of literary activity extended from 1815 to 1823. In 1832 he was made Metropolitan Commissioner of Lunacy, a post which he resigned in 1861. He died Oct. 4, 1874. His principal works, all published under the pseudonym of Barry Cornwall, are: Dramatic Scenes, 1819; Marcian Colonna, 1820; A Sicilian Story, 1821; Mirandola, 1821; The Flood of Thessaly, 1823; English Songs, 1832.] FOR MUSIC. Now whilst he dreams, O Muses, wind him round! Send down thy silver words, O murmuring Rain! Haunt him, sweet Music! Fall, with gentlest sound,— Like dew, like night, upon his weary brain! Come, Odors of the rose and violet,— bear Into his charmed sleep all visions fair! So may the lost be found, So may his thoughts by tender love be crowned, INSCRIPTION FOR A FOUNTAIN REST! This little Fountain runs Lest he may not slake his thirst: And thank the great god Pan for all! LORD BYRON. 1788-1824. [BORN in London, Jan. 22, 1788. Educated at Harrow, and Trinity College, Cambridge. Pub lished Hours of Idleness in 1807. A review of this book in the Edinburgh provoked the Satire English Bards and Scotch Reviewers, which was published in March, 1809. After this date Byron travelled in Spain, Greece, and Turkey for two years. On his return he published the two first Cantos of Childe Harold in 1812. During the years 1813-1815 he wrote The Giaour, Bride of Abydos, Corsair, Lara, Hebrew Melodies, Siege of Corinth, Parisina. The two last were published in the spring of 1816, shortly after Byron's separation from the wife whom he had married on Jan. 2, 1815. This year, 1816, was the most important epoch of his life. He left England never to return; settled first at Geneva, where he made the acquaintance of Shelley, composed the third Canto of Childe Harold, Prisoner of Chillon, and Prometheus, and began Manfred. In 1817 he removed to Venice, finished Manfred, wrote the Lament of Tasso, the Fourth Canto of Childe Harold, and Beppo. In the years 1818 and 1819, still residing at Venice, he produced the Ode on Venice, Mazeppa, and the first four Cantos of Don Juan. In 1820 and 1821, while living at Ravenna, he wrote the Prophecy of Dante, Marino Faliero, Sardanapalus, The Two Foscari, Cain, Heaven and Earth, and A Vision of Judgment. Part of the two next years was spent at Pisa in close intimacy with Shelley. Werner, The Deformed Transformed, The Island, anc the remaining Cantos of Don Juan, on which Byron had been from time to time at work during his Ravenna residence, were completed. On July 13, 1823, Byron sailed from Genoa for Greece, in order to take active part in the liberation of that country from Turkish rule. He died of fever at Missolonghi on the 19th of April, 1824, at the age of thirty-six years and three months.] BEAUTY OF GREECE AND THE GRECIAN ISLES. FAIR clime! where every season Benignant o'er those blessèd isles, And lend to loneliness delight. There mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek 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, Blooms blushing to her lover's tale; And many a grotto, meant for rest, Is heard, and seen the evening star; trace, As if for Gods, a dwelling-place, And every charm and grace hath mixed Within the paradise she fixed, There man, enamored 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 prevailed Against the seraphs they assailed, And, fixed on heavenly thrones, should dwell - The freed inheritors of hell; So soft the scene, so formed for joy, So curst the tyrants that destroy! not now, And but for that chill changeless Where cold Obstruction's apathy He still might doubt the tyrant's power; So fair, so calm, so softly sealed, But beauty with that fearful bloom, 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 ! A mightier monument command, THE PURSUIT OF BEAUTY. As rising on its purple wing Woe waits the insect and the maid; With wounded wing or bleeding breast, And lovelier things have mercy shown REMORSE. [The Giaour.] THE mind that broods o'er guilty woes And maddening in her ire, Or live like Scorpion girt by fire; LOVE. [The Giaour.] YES, Love indeed light from heaven; |