Selected Poems

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by Byron


  * I have in my possession an excellent lexicon which I received in exchange from S.G—, Esq. for a small gem: my antiquarian friends have never forgotten it, or forgiven me.† In Gail’s pamphlet against Coray, he talks of ‘throwing the insolent Hellenist out of the windows.’ On this a French critic exclaims, ‘Ah, my God! throw an Hellenist out of the window! what sacrilege!’ It certainly would be a serious business for those authors who dwell in the attics: but I have quoted the passage merely to prove the similarity of style among the controversialists of all polished countries; London or Edinburgh could hardly parallel this Parisian ebullition.

  * In a former number of the Edinburgh Review, 1808, it is observed: ‘Lord Byron passed some of his early years in Scotland, where he might have learned that pibroch does not mean a bagpipe, any more than duet means a fiddle.’ Query, – Was it in Scotland that the young gentlemen of the Edinburgh Review learned that Solyman means Mahomet II, any more than criticism means infallibility? – but thus it is,‘Cædimus inque vicem præbemus crura sagittis.’The mistake seemed so completely a lapse of the pen (from the great similarity of the two words, and the total absence of error from the former pages of the literary leviathan) that I should have passed it over as in the text, had I not perceived in the Edinburgh Review much facetious exultation on all such detections, particularly a recent one, where words and syllables are subjects of disquisition and transposition; and the above-mentioned parallel passage in my own case irresistibly propelled me to hint how much easier it is to be critical than correct. The gentlemen, having enjoyed many a triumph on such victories, will hardly begrudge me a slight ovation for the present.

  1. My Latin is all forgotten, if a man can be said to have forgotten what he never remembered; but I bought my title-page motto of a Catholic priest for a three-shilling bank token, after much haggling for the even sixpence. I grudged the money to a papist, being all for the memory of Perceval and ‘No popery,’ and quite regretting the downfall of the pope, because we can’t burn him any more.

  1. ‘Glance their many-twinkling feet.’ – GRAY.

  2. To rival Lord Wellesley’s, or his nephew’s, as the reader pleases: – the one gained a pretty woman, whom he deserved, by fighting for; and the other has been fighting in the Peninsula many a long day, ‘by Shrewsbury clock,’ without gaining any thing in that country but the title of ‘the GreatLord,’ and ‘the Lord; ‘ which savours of profanation, having been hitherto applied only to that Being to whom ‘Te Deums’ for carnage are the rankest blasphemy. – It is to be presumed the general will one day return to his Sabine farm; there

  ‘To tame the genius of the stubborn plain,

  Almost as quickly as he conquer’d Spain!’

  The Lord Peterborough conquered continents in a summer; we do more – we contrive both to conquer and lose them in a shorter season. If the ‘great Lord’s’ Cincinnatian progress in agriculture be no speedier than the proportional average of time in Pope’s couplet, it will, according to the farmers’ proverb, be ‘ploughing with dogs.’By the bye – one of this illustrious person’s new titles is forgotten – it is, however, worth remembering – ‘Salvador del mundo!’ credite, posteri! If this be the appellation annexed by the inhabitants of the Peninsula to the name of a man who has not yet saved them – query — are they worth saving, even in this world? for, according to the mildest modifications of any Christian creed, those three words make the odds much against them in the next. – ‘Saviour of the world,’ quotha! – it were to be wished that he, or any one else, could save a corner of it – his country. Yet this stupid misnomer, although it shows the near connection between superstition and impiety, so far has its use, that it proves there can be little to dread from those Catholics (inquisitorial Catholics too) who can confer such an appellation on a Protestant. I suppose next year he will be entitled the Virgin Mary:’ if so, Lord George Gordon himself would have nothing to object to such liberal bastards of our Lady of Babylon.

  1. The patriotic arson of our amiable allies cannot be sufficiently commended – nor subscribed for. Amongst other details omitted in the various despatches of our eloquent ambassador, he did not state (being too much occupied with the exploits of Colonel C—, in swimming rivers frozen, and galloping over roads impassable,) that one entire province perished by famine in the most melancholy manner, as follows: – In General Rostopchin’s consummate conflagration, the consumption of tallow and train oil was so great, that the market was inadequate to the demand: and thus one hundred and thirty-three thousand persons were starved to death, by being reduced to wholesome diet! The lamplighters of London have since subscribed a pint (of oil) a piece, and the tallow-chandlers have unanimously voted a quantity of best moulds (four to the pound), to the relief of the surviving Scythians; – the scarcity will soon, by such exertions, and a proper attention to the quality rather than the quantity of provision, be totally alleviated. It is said, in return, that the untouched Ukraine has subscribed sixty thousand beeves for a day’s meal to our suffering manufacturers.

  1. Dancing girls – who do for hire what Waltz doth gratis.

  1. It cannot be complained now, as in the Lady Baussière’s time, of the ‘Sieur de la Croix,’ that there be ‘no whiskers;’ but how far these are indications of valour in the field, or elsewhere, may still be questionable. Much may be, and hath been, avouched on both sides. In the olden time philosophers had whiskers, and soldiers none – Scipio himself was shaven – Hannibal thought his one eye handsome enough without a beard; but Adrian, the emperor, wore a beard (having warts on his chin, which neither the Empress Sabina nor even the courtiers could abide) – Turenne had whiskers, Marlborough none – Buonaparte is unwhiskered, the Regent whiskered; ‘argal’ greatness of mind and whiskers may or may not go together: but certainly the different occurrences, since the growth of the last mentioned, go further in behalf of whiskers than the anathema of Anselm did against long hair in the reign of Henry I. – Formerly, red was a favourite colour. See Lodowick Barrey’s comedy of Ram Alley, 1661; Act 1. Scene 1.‘TAFFETA: Now for a wager – What coloured beard comes next by the window?‘ADRIANA: A black man’s, I think.‘TAFFETA: I think not so: I think a red, for that is most in fashion.’There is ‘nothing new under the sun;’ but red, then a favourite, has now subsided into a favourite’s colour.

  1. An anachronism – Waltz and the battle of Austerlitz are before said to have opened the ball together: the bard means (if he means any thing), Waltz was not so much in vogue till the Regent attained the acmé of his popularity. Waltz, the comet, whiskers, and the new government, illuminated heaven and earth, in all their glory, much about the same time: of these the comet only has disappeared; the other three continue to astonish us still. – Printer’s Devil.

  2. Amongst others a new ninepence – a creditable coin now forthcoming, worth a pound, in paper, at the fairest calculation.

  3. ‘Oh that right should thus overcome might!’ Who does not remember the ‘delicate investigation’ in the ‘Merry Wives of Windsor?’ —‘FORD: Pray you, come near: if I suspect without cause, why then make sport at me; then let me be your jest; I deserve it. How now? whither bear you this?‘MRS FORD: What have you to do whither they bear it? – you were best meddle with buck-washing.’

  1. The gentle, or ferocious, reader may fill up the blank as he pleases – there are several dissyllabic names at his service (being already in the Regent’s): it would not be fair to back any peculiar initial against the alphabet, as every month will add to the list now entered for the sweepstakes: – a distinguished consonant is said to be the favourite, much against the wishes of the knowing ones.

  2. ‘We have changed all that,’ says the Mock Doctor – ‘tis all gone – Asmodeus knows where. After all, it is of no great importance how women’s hearts are disposed of; they have nature’s privilege to distribute them as absurdly as possible. But there are also some men with hearts so thoroughly bad, as to remind us of those phenomena often mentioned in natural history; viz. a m
ass of solid stone – only to be opened by force – and when divided, you discover a toad in the centre, lively, and with the reputation of being venomous.

  1. In Turkey a pertinent, here an impertinent and superfluous, question – literally put, as in the text, by a Persian to Morier, on seeing a waltz in Pera – Vide Morier’s Travels.

  1. A tomb above the rocks on the promontory, by some supposed the sepulchre of Themistocles.

  2. The attachment of the nightingale to the rose is a well-known Persian fable. If I mistake not, the ‘Bulbul of a thousand tales’ is one of his appellations.

  1. The guitar is the constant amusement of the Greek sailor by night: with a steady fair wind, and during a calm, it is accompanied always by the voice, and often by dancing.

  1. ‘Ay, but to die and go we know not where,To lye in cold obstruction?’Measure for Measure. [III.i 118–19]

  2. I trust that few of my readers have ever had an opportunity of witnessing what is here attempted in description, but those who have will probably retain a painful remembrance of that singular beauty which pervades, with few exceptions, the features of the dead, a few hours, and but for a few hours, after ‘the spirit is not there.’ It is to be remarked in cases of violent death by gun-shot wounds, the expression is always that of languor, whatever the natural energy of the sufferer’s character: but in death from a stab the countenance preserves its traits of feeling or ferocity, and the mind its bias, to the last.

  1. Athens is the property of the Kislar Aga (the slave of the seraglio and guardian of the women), who appoints the Waywode. A pander and eunuch – these are not polite, yet true appellations – now governs the governor of Athens!

  1. ‘Tophaike,’ musket. – The Bairam is announced by the cannon at sunset; the illumination of the Mosques, and the firing of all kinds of small arms, loaded with hall, proclaim it during the night.

  1. Jerreed, or Djerrid, a blunted Turkish javelin, which is darted from horseback with great force and precision. It is a favourite exercise of the Mussulmans; but I know not if it can be called a manly one, since the most expert in the art are the Black Eunuchs of Constantinople. I think, next to these, a Mamlouk at Smyrna was the most skilful that came within my observation.

  1. The blast of the desert, fatal to every thing living, and often alluded to in eastern poetry.

  1. To partake of food, to break bread and salt with your host, ensures the safety of the guest: even though an enemy, his person from that moment is sacred.

  2. I need hardly observe, that Charity and Hospitality are the first duties enjoined by Mahomet; and to say truth, very generally practised by his disciples. The first praise that can be bestowed on a chief, is a panegyric on his bounty; the next, on his valour.

  3. The ataghan, a long dagger worn with pistols in the belt, in a metal scabbard, generally of silver; and, among the wealthier, gilt, or of gold.

  4. Green is the privileged colour of the prophet’s numerous pretended descendants; with them, as here, faith (the family inheritance) is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works: they are the worst of a very indifferent brood.

  5. ‘Salam aleikoum! aleikoum salam!’ peace be with you; be with you peace – the salutation reserved for the faithful: – to a Christian, ‘Urlarula,’ a good journey; or ‘saban hiresem, saban serula;’ good morn, good even; and sometimes, ‘may your end be happy;’ are the usual salutes.

  1. The blue-winged butterfly of Kashmeer, the most rare and beautiful of the species.

  1. Alluding to the dubious suicide of the scorpion, so placed for experiment by gentle philosophers. Some maintain that the position of the sting, when turned towards the head, is merely a convulsive movement; but others have actually brought in the verdict ‘Felo de se.’ The scorpions are surely interested in a speedy decision of the question; as, if once fairly established as insect Catos, they will probably be allowed to live as long as they think proper, without being martyred for the sake of an hypothesis.

  2. The cannon at sunset close the Rhamazan.

  1. Phingari, the moon.

  2. The celebrated fabulous ruby of Sultan Giamschid, the embellisher of Istakhar; from its splendour, named Schebgerag, ‘the torch of night;’ also ‘the cup of the sun,’ &c. In the first edition, ‘Giamschid’ was written as a word of three syllables, so D’Herbelot has it; but I am told Richardson reduces it to a dissyllable, and writes ‘Jamshid.’ I have left in the text the orthography of the one with the pronunciation of the other.

  3. Al-Sirat, the bridge of breadth, narrower than the thread of a famished spider, and sharper than the edge of a sword, over which the Mussulmans must skate into Paradise, to which it is the only entrance; but this is not the worst, the river beneath being hell itself, into which, as may be expected, the unskilful and tender of foot contrive to tumble with a ‘facilis descensus Averni,’ not very pleasing in prospect to the next passenger. There is a shorter cut downwards for the Jews and Christians.

  1. A vulgar error: the Koran allots at least a third of Paradise to well-behaved women; but by far the greater number of Mussulmans interpret the text their own way, and exclude their moieties from heaven. Being enemies to Platonics, they cannot discern ‘any fitness of things’ in the souls of the other sex, conceiving them to be superseded by the Houris.

  2. An oriental simile, which may, perhaps, though fairly stolen, be deemed ‘plus Arabe qu’en Arabie.’

  3. Hyacinthine, in Arabic ‘Sunbul;’ as common a thought in the eastern poets as it was among the Greeks.

  4. ‘Franguestan,’ Circassia.

  1. Bismillah – ‘In the name of God;’ the commencement of all the chapters of the Koran but one, and of prayer and thanksgiving.

  1. A phenomenon not uncommon with an angry Mussulman. In 1809, the Capitan Pacha’s whiskers at a diplomatic audience were no less lively with indignation than a tiger cat’s, to the horror of all the dragomans; the portentous mustachios twisted, they stood erect of their own accord, and were expected every moment to change their colour, but at last condescended to subside, which, probably, saved more heads than they contained hairs.

  2. ‘Amaun,’ quarter, pardon.

  3. The ‘evil eye,’ a common superstition in the Levant, and of which the imaginary effects are yet very singular on those who conceive themselves affected.

  1. The flowered shawls generally worn by persons of rank.

  1. The ‘Calpac’ is the solid cap or centre part of the head-dress; the shawl is wound round it, and forms the turban.

  1. The turban, pillar, and inscriptive verse, decorate the tombs of the Osmanlies, whether in the cemetery or the wilderness. In the mountains you frequently pass similar mementos: and on enquiry you are informed that they record some victim of rebellion, plunder, or revenge.

  2. ‘Alla Hu!’ the concluding words of the Muezzin’s call to prayer from the highest gallery on the exterior of the Minaret. On a still evening, when the Muezzin has a fine voice, which is frequently the case, the effect is solemn and beautiful beyond all the bells in Christendom.

  3. The following is part of a battle song of the Turks: – ‘I see – see a dark-eyed girl of Paradise, and she waves a handkerchief, a kerchief of green; and cries aloud, “Come, kiss me, for I love thee,” ’ &c.

  4. Monkir and Nekir are the inquisitors of the dead, before whom the corpse undergoes a slight noviciate and preparatory training for damnation. If the answers are none of the clearest, he is hauled up with a scythe and thumped down with a red hot mace till properly seasoned, with a variety of subsidiary probations. The office of these angels is no sinecure; there are but two, and the number of orthodox deceased being in a small proportion to the remainder, their hands are always full. See Relig. Ceremon. and Sale’s Koran.

  1. Eblis, the Oriental Prince of Darkness.

  2. The Vampire superstition is still general in the Levant. Honest Tournefort tells a long story, which Mr Southey, in the notes on Thalaba, quotes, about these ‘Vroucolochas,’ as he calls them. The R
omaic term is ‘Vardoulacha.’ I recollect a whole family being terrified by the scream of a child, which they imagined must proceed from such a visitation. The Greeks never mention the word without horror. I find that ‘Broucolokas’ is an old legitimate Hellenic appellation – at least is so applied to Arsenius, who, according to the Greeks, was after his death animated by the Devil. – The moderns, however, use the word I mention.

  1. The freshness of the face, and the wetness of the lip with blood, are the never-failing signs of a Vampire. The stories told in Hungary and Greece of these foul feeders are singular, and some of them most incredibly attested.

  1. The pelican is, I believe, the bird so libelled, by the imputation of feeding her chickens with her blood.

  1. This superstition of a second hearing (for I never met with downright second-sight in the East) fell once under my own observation. On my third journey to Cape Colonna, early in 1811, as we passed through the defile that leads from the hamlet between Keratia and Colonna, I observed Dervish Tahiri riding rather out of the path, and leaning his head upon his hand, as if in pain. I rode up and enquired. ‘We are in peril,’ he answered. ‘What peril? we are not now in Albania, nor in the passes to Ephesus, Messalunghi, or Lepanto; there are plenty of us, well armed, and the Choriates have not courage to be thieves.’ – ‘True, Affendi, but nevertheless the shot is ringing in my ears.’ – ‘The shot! not a tophaike has been fired this morning.’ – ‘I hear it notwithstanding – Bom – Bom – as plainly as I hear your voice.’ – ‘Psha!’ – ‘As you please, Affendi; if it is written, so will it be.’ – I left this quick-eared predestinarian, and rode up to Basili, his Christian compatriot, whose ears, though not at all prophetic, by no means relished the intelligence. We all arrived at Colonna, remained some hours, and returned leisurely, saying a variety of brilliant things, in more languages than spoiled the building of Babel, upon the mistaken seer. Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, and English were all exercised, in various conceits, upon the unfortunate Mussulman. While we were contemplating the beautiful prospect, Dervish was occupied about the columns. I thought he was deranged into an antiquarian, and asked him if he had become a ‘Palao-castro’ man? ‘No,’ said he, ‘but these pillars will be useful in making a stand;’ and added other remarks, which at least evinced his own belief in his troublesome faculty of forehearing. On our return to Athens we heard from Leoné (a prisoner set ashore some days after) of the intended attack of the Mainotes, mentioned, with the cause of its not taking place, in the notes to Childe Harold, Canto 2d. I was at some pains to question the man, and he described the dresses, arms, and marks of the horses of our party so accurately, that, with other circumstances, we could not doubt of his having been in ‘villanous company,’ and ourselves in a bad neighbourhood. Dervish became a soothsayer for life, and I dare say is now hearing more musketry than ever will be fired, to the great refreshment of the Arnaouts of Berat, and his native mountains. – shall mention one trait more of this singular race. In March, 1811, a remarkably stout and active Arnaout came (I believe the fiftieth on the same errand) to offer himself as an attendant, which was declined: ‘Well, Affendi,’ quoth he, may you live! – you would have found me useful. I shall leave the town for the hills to-morrow, in the winter I return, perhaps you will then receive me.’ – Dervish, who was present, remarked as a thing of course, and of no consequence, ‘in the mean time he will join the Klephtes’ (robbers), which was true to the letter. If not cut off, they come down in the winter, and pass it unmolested in some town, where they are often as well known as their exploits.

 

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