II.

Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay wither'd and strown.

III.

For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he pass'd; And the eyes of the sleepers wax'd deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew

still!

IV.

And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there roll'd not the breath of his pride: And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.

V.

And there lay the rider distorted and pale,

With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown.

VI.

And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

A SPIRIT PASS'D BEFORE ME.

FROM JOB.

I.

A SPIRIT pass'd before me: I beheld
The face of immortality unveil'd—

Deep sleep came down on every eye save mine—
And there it stood,-all formless-but divine:
Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake;
And as my damp hair stiffen'd, thus it spake:

II.

"Is man more just than God? Is man more pure
Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure?
Creatures of clay-vain dwellers in the dust!
The moth survives you, and are ye more just?
Things of a day! you wither ere the night,
Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!" (1)

(1) [The Hebrew Melodies, though obviously inferior to Lord Byron's other works, display a skill in versification, and a mastery in diction, which would have raised an inferior artist to the very summit of distinction. — JEFFREY.]

THE

SIEGE OF CORINTH.

[The "Siege of Corinth," which appears, by the original MS., to ha been begun in July, 1815, made its appearance in January, 1816 M Murray having enclosed Lord Byron a thousand guineas for the copyrig of this poem and of " Parisina," he replied, "Your offer is liberal in t extreme, and much more than the two poems can possibly be worth; b I cannot accept it, nor will not. You are most welcome to them additions to the collected volumes; but I cannot consent to their separa publication. I do not like to risk any fame (whether merited or n which I have been favoured with upon compositions which I do not f to be at all equal to my own notions of what they should be; though th may do very well as things without pretension, to add to the publicati with the lighter pieces. I have enclosed your draft torn, for fear of ac dents by the way-I wish you would not throw temptation in mine. is not from a disdain of the universal idol, nor from a present superflui of his treasures, I can assure you, that I refuse to worship him; but wh is right is right, and must not yield to circumstances. I am very glad th the handwriting was a favourable omen of the morale of the piece; but y must not trust to that, for my copyist would write out any thing I desire in all the ignorance of innocence- I hope, however, in this instance, wi no great peril to either." The copyist was Lady Byron. Lord Byron g Mr. Gifford carte-blanche to strike out or alter any thing at his pleasure this poem, as it was passing through the press; and the reader will amused with the varia lectiones which had their origin in this extraordina confidence. Mr. Gifford drew his pen, it will be seen, through at least o of the most admired passages. — -E]