THE

WORKS OF LORD BYRON.

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'ea
al feuilleté un assez grand nombre, que j'ai trouvé également mauvaises. Cet examen ne m'a point été infructueux.
Je halssais ma patrie. Toutes les impertinences des peuples divers, parmi lesquels j'ai vécu, m'ont reconcilié 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 COSMOPOLITE.

PREFACE.

the exception of a few concluding stanzas, the whole of this poem was written in the Levant.

TAE following poem was written, for the most The stanza of Spenser, according to one of our part, amid the scenes which it attempts to describe. most successful poets, admits of every variety. Dr. It was begun in Albania; and the parts relative to Beattie makes the following observation: "Not Spain and Portugal were composed from the author's long ago I began a poem in the style and stanza of observations in those countries. Thus much it may Spenser, in which I propose to give full scope to my be necessary to state for the correctness of the de- inclination, and be either droll or pathetic, descripscriptions. The scenes attempted to be sketched tive or sentimental, tender or satirical, as the humor are in Spain, Portugal, Epirus, Acarnania, and strikes me; for, if I mistake not, the measure Greece. There for the present the poem stops: its which I have adopted admits equally of all these reception will determine whether the author may kinds of composition."-Strengthened in my opinventure to conduct his readers to the capital of the ion by such high authority, and by the example of East, through Ionia and Phrygia: these two cantos some in the highest order of Italian poets, I shall are merely experimental.

A fictitious character is introduced for the sake of giving some connexion to the piece; which, however, makes no pretension 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 disclaim-Harold is the 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.

make no apology for attempts at similar variations in the following composition; satisfied that, if they are unsuccessful, their failure must be in the execu tion, rather than in the design sanctioned by the practice of Ariosto, Thomson, and Beattie.

ADDITION TO THE PREFACE.

I HAVE now waited till almost all our periodical journals have distributed their usual portion of It is almost superfluous to mention that the ap-criticism. To the justice of the generality of their pellation "Childe," as "Childe Waters," "Childe criticisms I have nothing to object; it would ill beChilders," &c., is used as more consonant with the come me to quarrel with their very slight degree of old structure of the versification which I have censure, when, perhaps, if they had been less kind adopted. The "Good Night," in the beginning of they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, the first canto, was suggested by "Lord Maxwell's to all and each my best thanks for their liberality, Good Night," in the Border Minstrelsy, edited by on one point alone shall I venture an observation. Among the many objections justly urged to the very With the different poems which have been pub-indifferent character of the "vagrant Childe," lished on Spanish subjects, there may be found some (whom, notwithstanding many hints to the conslight coincidence in the first part, which treats of the Peninsula, but it can only be casual; as, with

Mr. Scott.

• Beattie's Letters.

trary, 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, honor, and so forth. Now it so
happens that the good old times, when "l'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 St. Palaye, passim, and more particularly
vol. ii., page 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 To
Ovid. The "Cours d'amour, parlemens d'amour ou
de courtesie et de gentilesse" had much more of
love than of courtesy or gentleness. See Rolland
on the same subject with St. Palaye. Whatever
other objection may be urged to that most unamia-
ble 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 re-
proche." 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 Maria Antoinette was
quite as chaste as most of those in whose honors
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 pro

Iceeded 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.

• The Rover. Antijacobin.

TO IANTHE.

NOT in those climes where I have late been straying,

Though Beauty long hath there been matchless
deem'd;

Not in those visions to the heart displaying
Forms which it sighs but to have only dream'd,
Hath aught like thee in truth or fancy seem'd:
Nor, having seen thee, shall I vainly seek
To paint those charms which varied as they beam'd:
To such as see thee not my words were weak;
those who gaze on thee what language could
they speak?

Ah! may'st thou ever be what now thou art,
Nor unbeseem the promise of thy spring,
As fair in form, as warm yet pure in heart,
Love's image upon earth without his wing,
And guileless beyond Hope's imagining!
And surely she who now so fondly rears
Thy youth, in thee, thus hourly brightening,
Beholds the rainbow of her future years,
Before whose heavenly hues all sorrow disappears.

Young Peri of the West!-'tis well for me
My years already doubly number thine;
My loveless eye umoved may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening beauties shine;
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline;
Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed,
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
To those whose admiration shall succeed,

But mix'd with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours

decreed.

Oh let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's,
Now brightly bold or beautifully shy,
Wins as it wanders, dazzles where it dwells,
Glance o'er this page, nor to my verse deny
That smile for which my breast might vainly sigh,
Could I to thee be ever more than friend:
This much, dear maid, accord: nor question why
But bid me with my wreath one matchless lily blend.
To one so young my strain I would commend,

Such is thy name with this my verse entwined;
And long as kinder eyes a look shall cast
On Harold's page, Ianthe's here enshrined
Shall thus be first beheld, forgotten last:
My days once number'd, should this homage past
Attract thy fairy fingers near the lyre

Of him who hail'd thee, loveliest as thou wast,
Such is the most my memory may desire;
Though more than Hope can claim, could Friend-
ship less require '

Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad Whate'er his grief mote be, which he could not