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TO MR MURRAY.
their being published separately. Print Don Juan of poems; but if people won't discover the moral, entire, omitting, of course, the lines on Castlereagh, that is their fault, not mine. I have already written as I am not on the spot to meet him. I have a Second to beg that in any case you will print fifty for private Canto ready, which will be sent by and by. By this distribution. I will send you the list of persons to post, I have written to Mr Hobhouse, addressed to whom it is to be sent afterwards. your care.
“ Within this last fortnight I have been rather
“ Yours, &c. indisposed with a rebellion of stomach, which would “P.S. I have acquiesced in the request and repre- retain nothing (liver, I suppose), and an inability, or sentation; and having done so, it is idle to detail my phantasy, not to be able to eat of any thing with arguments in favour of my own self-love and · Poe- relish but a kind of Adriatic fish called ' scampi,' shie;' but I protest. If the poem has poetry, it which happens to be the most indigestible of marine would stand ; if not, fall; the rest is · leather and pru- viands. However, within these last two days, I am nello,' and has never yet affected any human pro- better, and very truly yours.” duction pro or con. Dulness is the only annihilator in such cases. As to the cant of the day, I despise it, as I have ever done all its other finical fashions, which
LETTER CCCXXVII. become you as paint became the ancient Britons. If you admit this prudery, you must omit half Ariosto, La Fontaine, Shakspeare, Beaumont, Fletcher, Mas
* Venice, April 6th, 1819. singer, Ford, all the Charles Second writers; in short, 6 The Second Canto of Don Juan was sent, on something of most who have written before Pope Saturday last, by post, in four packets, two of four, and are worth reading, and much of Pope himself. and two of three sheets each, containing in all two Read him-most of you don't—but do—and I will hundred and seventeen stanzas, octave measure. forgive you ; though the inevitable consequence would But I will permit no curtailments, except those menbe that you would buro all I have ever written, and tioned about Castlereagh and all your other wretched Claudians of the day (except | You sha'n't make canticles of any cantos. The poem Scott and Crabbe) into the bargain. I wrong Claus will please, if it is lively; if it is stupid, it will fail : dian, who was a poet, by naming him with such but I will have none of your damned cutting and fellows; but he was the ultimus Romanorum, the slashing. If you please, you may publish anonytail of the comet, and these persons are the tail of an mously; it will perhaps be better; but I will battle my old gown cut into a waistcoat for Jackey; but being way against them all, like a porcupine. both tails, I have compared the one with the other, So
you and Mr Foscolo, &c. want me to underthough very unlike, like all similes. I write in a passion take what you call a' great work ?' an Epic Poem, and a sirocco, and I was up till six this morning at I suppose, or some such pyramid. I'll try no such the Carnival : but I protest, as I did in my former thing; I hate tasks. And then “seven or eight years! letter.”
God send us all well this day three months, let alone
years. If one's years can't be better employed than LETTER CCCXXVI.
in sweating poesy, a man had better be a ditcher.
your worn-out * Venice, February 1st, 1819.
machinery. Why, man, I could have spun the « After one of the concluding stanzas of the First thoughts of the Four Cantos of that poem into twenty, Canto of Don Juan,' which ends with (I forget the had I wanted to book-make, and its passion into as number)
many modern tragedies. Since you want length, * To have,
you shall have enough of Juan, for I'll make Fifty when the original is dust,
“ And Foscolo, too! Why does he not do someinsert the following stanza :
thing more than the Letters of Ortis, and a tragedy,
and pamphlets? He has good fifteen years more at « What are the hopes of man, &c.
his cominand than I have: what has he done all that “I have written to you several letters, some with time?-proved his genius, doubtless, but not fixed additions, and some upon the subject of the poem its fame, nor done his utmost. itself, which my cursed puritanical committee have “Besides, I mean to write my best work in Italian, protested against publishing. But we will circumvent and it will take me nine years more thoroughly to them on that point. I have not yet begun to copy master the language; and then if my fancy exists, out the Second Canto, which is finished, from na- and I exist too, I will try what I can do really. tural laziness, and the discouragement of the milk As to the estimation of the English which you talk and water they have thrown upon the First. I say of, let them calculate what it is worth, before they all this to them as to you, that is, for you to say to insult me with their insolent condescension. them, for I will have nothing underhand. If they “I have not written for their pleasure. If they had told me the poetry was bad, I would have ac- are pleased, it is that they chose to be so ; I have quiesced; but they say the contrary, and then talk never flattered their opinions, nor their pride; nor to me about morality-the first time I ever heard the will I. Neither will 1 make · Ladies' books'' al word from any body who was not a rascal that used dilettar le femmine e la plebe.' I have written from it for a purpose. I maintain that it is the most moral the fulness of any mind, from passion, from impulse,
TO MR MURRAY.
from many motives, but not for their sweet voices.' the Countess Albrizzi, in all the gaiety of bridal
" I know the precise worth of popular applause, array, and the first delight of exchanging a convent for few scribblers have had more of it; and if I chose ' for the world. At this time, however, no acquaintto swerve into their paths, I could retain it, or re- ance ensued between them ;-it was not till the sume it. But I neither love ye, nor fear ye; and spring of the present year that, at an evening party though I buy with ye and sell with ye, I will neither of Madame Benzoni's, they were introduced to each eat with ye, drink with ye, nor pray with ye. They other. The love that sprung out of this meeting was made me, without my search, a species of popular instantaneous and mutual,—though with the usual idol; they, without reason or judgment, beyond the disproportion of sacrifice between the parties; such caprice of their good pleasure, threw down the an event being, to the man, but one of the many image from its pedestal : it was not broken with the scenes of life, while, with woman, it generally constifall, and they would, it seems, again replace it,- tutes the whole drama. The young Italian found but they shall not.
herself suddenly inspired with a passion, of which, You ask about my health : about the beginning till that moment, her mind could not have formed the of the year I was in a state of great exhaustion, at least idea ;-she had thought of love but as an amusetended by such debility of stomach that nothing ment, and now became its slave. If at the outset, remained upon it; and I was obliged to reform my too, less slow to be won than an English woman, no way of life,' which was conducting me from the sooner did she begin to understand the full despotism ‘yellow leaf' to the ground, with all deliberate speed of the passion than her heart shrunk from it as I am better in health and morals, and very much something terrible, and she would have escaped, but
that the chain was already around her. “P.S. I have read Hodgson's ‘Friends.' * * * * No words, however, can describe so simply and He is right in defending Pope against the bastard feelingly as her own, the strong impression which pelicans of the poetical winter day, who add insult their first meeting left upon her mind :to their parricide, by sucking the blood of the parent “I became acquainted (says Madame Guiccioli) of English real poetry-poetry without fault-and with Lord Byron in the April of 1819:—he was inthen spurning the bosom which fed thein.”
troduced 10 me at Venice, by the Countess Benzoni,
at one of that lady's parties. This introduction, It was about the time when the foregoing letter was which had so much influence over the lives of us written, and when, as we perceive, like the first both, took place contrary to our wishes, and had return of reason after intoxication, a full conscious-been permitted by us only from courtesy. For myness of some of the evils of his late libertine course of self, more fatigued than usual that evening on account life had broken upon him, that an attachment differ- of the late hours they keep at Venice, I went with ing altogether, both in duration and devotion, from great repugnance to this party, and purely in obeany of those that, since the dream of his boyhood, dience to Count Guiccioli. Lord Byron, too, who had inspired him, gained an influence over his mind was averse to forming new acquaintances,-alleging which lasted through his few remaining years; and, that he had entirely renounced all attachments, and undeniably wrong and immoral (even allowing for was unwilling any more to expose himself to their the Italian estimate of such frailties) as was the nature
consequences, -on being requested by the Countess of the connexion to which this attachment led, we Benzoni to allow hinself to be presented to me, can hardly perhaps,-taking into account the far refused, and, at last, only assented from a desire to worse wrong from which it rescued and preserved oblige her. him, -consider it otherwise than an event fortunate “ His noble and exquisitely beautiful countenance, both for his reputation and happiness.
the tone of his voice, his manners, the thousand enThe fair object of this last, and (with one signal chantments that surrounded him, rendered him so exception) only real love of his whole life, was a different and so superior a being to any whom I had young Romagnese lady, the daughter of Count Gamba, hitherto seen, that it was impossible he should not of Ravenna, and married, but a short time before have left the most profound impression upon me.
Lord Byron first met with her, to an old and wealthy From that evening, during the whole of my subsewidower, of the same city, Count Guiccioli. Her quent stay at Venice, we met every day.*” husband had in early life been the friend of Alfieri,
* « Nell'Aprile del 1819, io feci la conoscenza di Lord and had distinguished himself by his zeal in proinoting Byron; e mi fu presentato a Venezia dalla Contessa Benthe establishment of a National Theatre, in which zoni nella di lei società. Questa presentazione che ebbe the talents of Altieri and his own wealth were to be
tante conseguenze per tutti e due fu fatta contro la volontà combined. Notwithstanding his age, and a charac
d'entrambi, e solo per condiscendenza l'abbiamo per
messa. Io stanca più che mai quella sera per le ore tarde ter, as it appears, by no means reputable, his great che si costuma fare in Venezia andai con molta ripug nanza opulence rendered him an object of ambition among
e solo per ubbidire al Conte Guiccioli in quella società. the mothers of Ravenna, who, according to the too
Lord Byron che scansava di fare nuove conoscenze, difrequent maternal practice, were seen vying with
cendo sempre che aveva interamente rinunciato alle pas
sioni e che non voleva esporsi più alle loro conseguenze, each other in attracting so rich a purchaser for their quando la Contessa Benzoni lo pregò di volersi fer presendaughters, and the young Teresa Gainba, then only
tare a me egli ricusò, e solo per la compiacenza glielo per
mise. La nobile e bellissima sua fisonomia, il suono della eighteen, and just emancipated from a convent, was
sua voce, le sue maniere, i mille incauti che lo circondathe selected victimn.
vano lo rendevano un essere così differente, eosì superiore The first time Lord Byron had ever seen this lady a tutti quelli che io aveva sino allora veduti che non potei was in the autumn of 1818, when she made her ap
a meno di non provarne la più profonda impressione. Da pearance, soon after her marriage, at the house of quella sera in poi in tutti i giorni che mi fermai in Venezia
ci siamo sempre veduti.”-MS.
"Venice, May 15th, 1819.
Mary Godwin (now Mrs Shelley) wrote Frankenstein,
which you have reviewed, thinking it Shelley's. Me“I have got your extract, and the Vampire. I thinks it is a wonderful book for a girl of nineteenneed not say it is not mine. There is a rule to go not nineteen, indeed, at that time. I enclose you the by : you are my publisher (till we quarrel), and what beginning of mine, by which you will see how far it is not published by you is not written by me. resembles Mr Colburn's publication. If you choose
to publish it, you may, stating why, and with such “Next week I set out for Romagna—at least, in explanatory proem as you please. I never went on all probability. You had better go on with the pub
with it, as you will perceive by the date. I began it lications without waiting to hear farther, for I have in an old account-book of Miss Milbanke's, which I other things in my head. “Mazeppa’ and the ‘Ode' kept because it contains the word “Household,' separate?—what think you ? Juan anonymous,
written by her twice on the inside blank page of the without the Dedication; for I won't be shabby, covers, being the only two scraps I have in the world and attack Southey under cloud of night.
in her writing, except her name to the Deed of Se“ Yours, &c." paration. Her letters I sent back, except those of
the quarrelling correspondence, and those, being doIn another letter on the subject of the Vampire, I
cuments, are placed in the hands of a third person, find the following interesting particulars.
with copies of several of my own; so that I have no
kind of memorial whatever of her, but these two “ The story of Shelley's agitation is true.* I can't words,--and her actions. I have torn the leaves tell what seized hiin, for he don't want courage. He containing the part of the Tale out of the book, and was once with me in a gale of wind, in a sinall boat,
enclose them with this sheet. right under the rocks between Meillerie and St Gingo. We were five in the boat-a servant, two
What do you mean? First you seem hurt by my boatmen, and ourselves. The sail was mismanaged, letter, and then, in your next, you talk of its “ power,' and the boat was filling fast. He can't swim. í and so forth. This is a d-d blind story, Jack; stripped off my coat, inade him strip off his, and take but never mind, go on.' You may be sure I said hold of an oar, telling him that I thought (being my- nothing on purpose to plague you, but if you will self an expert swimmer) I could save him, if he would put me in a frenzy, I will never call you Jack again.' not struggle when I took hold of him—unless we got | I remember nothing of the epistle at present. smashed against the rocks, which were high and “What do you mean by Polidori's Diary? Why, sharp, with an awkward surf on them at that minute. I defy him to say any thing about me but he is welWe were then about hundred yards from shore,
come. I have nothing to reproach me with on his and the boat in peril. He answered me with the great
score, and I am much mistaken if that is not his own est coolness that he had no notion of being saved, opinion. But why publish the names of the two and that I would have enough to do to save myself, girls ? and in such a manner ?—what a blundering and begged not to trouble me.' Luckily, the boat piece of exculpation! He asked Pictet, &c. to dinrighted, and, baling, we got round a point into St ner, and of course was left to entertain them. I went Gingo, where the inhabitants came down and em- into society solely to present him (as I told him), that braced the boatmen on their escape, the wind having he might return into good company if he chose ; it been high enough to tear up some huge trees from was the best thing for his youth and circumstances : the Alps above us, as we saw next day.
for myself, I had done with society, and, having pre“ And yet the same Shelley, who was as cool as it sented him, withdrew to my own way of life.' It is was possible to be in such circumstances (of which I
true that I returned without entering Lady Dalrymam no judge myself, as the chance of swimming na
ple Hamilton's, because I saw it full. It is true that turally gives self-possession when near shore), cer
Mrs Hervey (she writes novels) fainted at my entainly had the fit of phantasy which Polidori de- trance into Coppet, and then came back again. On scribes, though not exactly as he describes it. her fainting, the Duchesse de Broglie exclaimed,
*This is too much-at sixty-five years of age !-I * This story, as given in the Preface to the «Vampire,' is as follows:
never gave the English' an opportunity of avoiding " It appears that one evening Lord B., Mr P.B. Shelley,
me; but I trust that, if ever I do, they will seize it. two ladies, and the gentleman before alluded to, after With regard to Mazeppa and the Ode, you may join having perused a German work called Phantasmagoria, or separate them, as you please, from the two Cantos. began relating ghost stories, when his lordship having recited the beginning of Christabel, then unpublished, the
“Don't suppose I want to put you out of humour. whole look so strong a hold of Mr Shelley's mind, that he I have a great respect for your good and gentlemanly suddenly started up, and ran out of the room. The phy- qualities, and return your personal friendship towards sician and Lord Byron followed, and discovered him leaning
me; and although I think you a little spoilt by villanagainst a mantel-piece, with cold drops of perspiration trickling down his face. After having given him some
ous company,'-wits, persons of honour about town, thing to refresh bim, upon inquiring into the cause of his authors, and fashionables, together with your · I am alarm, they found that his wild imagination having pic- just going to call at Carlton House, are you walking tured to him the bosom of one of the ladies with eyes (which was reported of a lady in the neighbourhood where
that way??—I'say, notwithstanding pictures, taste, he lived), he was obliged to leave the room in order to
Shakspeare, and the musical glasses,' you deserve destroy the impression."
and possess the esteem of those whose esteem is
worth having, and of none more (however useless it | cities; and from all these places the enamoured may be) than yours very truly, &c.
young Countess now wrote to her lover, expressing, “ P.S. Make my respects to Mr Gifford. I am in the most passionate and pathetic terms, her despair perfectly aware that · Don Juan'must set us all by at leaving him. So utterly, indeed, did this feeling the ears, but that is my concern, and my beginning. overpower her, that three times, in the course of her There will be the 'Edinburgh,' and all, too, against first day's journey, she was seized with fainting-fits. it, so that, like 'Rob Roy,' I shall have my hands In one of her letters, which I saw when at Venice, full.”
dated, if I recollect right, from “ Cà Zen, Cavanelle
di Po,” she tells him that the solitude of this place, LETTER CCCXXIX.
which she had before found irksome, was, now that
one sole idea occupied her mind, become dear and TO MR MURRAY.
welcome to her, and promises that, as soon as she « Venice, May 25th, 1819.
arrives at Ravenna, "she will, according to his wish, “I have received no proofs by the last post, and
avoid all general society, and devote herself to readshall probably have quitted Venice before the arrival | ing, music, domestic occupations, riding on horseback, of the next. There wanted a few stanzas to the
-every thing, in short, that she knew he would most termination of Canto First in the last proof; the next
like.” What a change for a young and simple girl, will, I presume, contain them, and the whole or a
who, but a few weeks before, had thought only, of portion of Canto Second; but it will be idle to wait society and the world, but who now saw no other for further answers from me, as I have directed that happiness but in the hope of becoming worthy, by my letters wait for my return (perhaps in a month,
seclusion and self-instruction, of the illustrious object
of her love! and probably so); therefore do not wait for further advice from me. You may as well talk to the wind,
On leaving this place, she was attacked with a and better—for it will at least convey your aceents
dangerous illness on the road, and arrived half dead a little farther than they would otherwise have gone;
at Ravenna; nor was it found possible to revive or whereas I shall neither echo por acquiesce in your
comfort her till an assurance was received from Lord exquisite reasons. You may omit the note of re
Byron, expressed with all the fervour of real passion, ference to Hobhouse's travels, in Canto Second, and
that, in the course of the ensuing month, he would you will put as motto to the whole
pay her a visit. Symptoms of consumption, brought
on by her siate of mind, had already shown them* Difficile est proprie communia dicere.'-HORACE.
selves; and, in addition to the pain which this separation bad caused her, she was also suffering much
grief from the loss of her mother, who, at this time, “A few days ago I sent you all I know of Polidori's died in giving birth to her twentieth child. Towards Vampire. He may do, say, or write, what he pleases, the latter end of May she wrote to acquaint Lord By. but I wish he would not attribute to me his own com- ron that, having prepared all her relatives and friends positions. If he has any thing of mine in his posses- to expect him, he might now, she thought, venture sion, the MS. will put it beyond controversy; but I to make his appearance at Ravenna. Though, on scarcely think that any one who knows me would be- the lady's account, hesitating as to the prudence of lieve the thing in the Magazine to be mine, even if such a step, he, in obedience to her wishes, on the they saw it in my own hieroglyphics.
2d of June, set out from La Mira (at which place he “I write to you in the agonies of a sirocco, which had again taken a villa for the summer), and proceeded annihilates me; and I have been fool enough to do towards Romagna. four things since dinner, which are as well omitted in From Padua he addressed a letter to Mr Hoppner, very hot weather: 1stly, * *; 2dly, to play at chiefly occupied with matters of household concern, billiards from 10 to 12, under the intluence of lighted which that gentleman had undertaken to manage for lamps, that doubled the heat; 3dly, to go afterwards him at Venice, but, on the immediate object of his into a red-hot conversazione of the Countess Ben- journey, expressing himself in a tone su light and zoni's; and Athly, to begin this letter at three in the jesting, as it would be difficult for those not versed in moruing : but being begun, it must be finished. his character to conceive that he could ever bring “Ever very truly and affectionately yours, himself, while under the influence of a passion so
“B. sincere, to assume. But such is ever the wantonness “P.S. I petition for tooth-brushes, powder, magnea of the mocking spirit, from which nothing,—not even sia, Macassar oil (or Russia), the sashes, and Sir Ni. Jove,--remains sacred; and which at last, for want Wraxall's Memoirs of his own Times. I want, be- of other food, turns upon self. The same horror, sides, a bull-dog, a terrier, and two Newfoundland too, of hypocrisy that led Lord Byron to exaggerate dogs; and I want (is it Buck's ?) a life of Richard 3d, his own errors, led him also to disguise, under a advertised by Longman long, long, long ago; I asked seemingly heartless ridicule, all those natural and for it at least three years since. See Longman's ad- kindly qualities by which they were redeemed. vertisements.”
This letter from Padua concludes thus :
About the middle of April, Madame Guiccioli had “ A journey in an Italian June is a conscription; and been obliged to quit Venice with her husband. Hav- if I was not the most constant of men, I should now be ing several houses on the road from Venice to Ra- swimming from the Lido, instead of smoking in the venna, it was his habit to stop at these mansions, dust of Padua. Should there be letters from England, one after the other, in his journeys between the two let them wait my return. And do look at my house and (not lands, but) waters, and scold ;--and deal out 'Tis vain to struggle-let me perish youngthe monies to Edgecombe* with an air of reluctance
Live as I lived, and love as I have loved :
To dust if I return, from dust I sprung, and a shake of the head—and put queer questions to
And then, at least, my heart can ne'er be moved." him—and turn up your nose when he answers.
“ Make my respects to the Consuless—and to the Chevalier-and to Scotin- and to all the counts and intelligence from the Contessa, he began to be of opi
On arriving at Bologna and receiving no farther countesses of our acquaintance. 4 And believe me ever
nion, as we shall perceive in the annexed interesting
letters, that he should act most prudently, for all par“ Your disconsolate and affectionate, &c."
ties, by returning to Venice. As a contrast to the strange levity of this letter, as well as in justice to the real earnestness of the passion,
LETTER CCCXXX. however censurable in all other respects, that now
TO MR HOPPNER. engrossed him, I shall here transcribe some stanzas which he wrote in the course of this journey to Ro
" Bologna, June 6th, 1819. magna, and which, though already published, are not -.“I am at length joined to Bologna, where I am comprised in the regular collection of his works. settled like a sansage, and shall be broiled like one,
if this weather continues. Will you thank Mengaldo « River,t that rollest by the ancient walls,
on my part for the Ferrara acquaintance, which was Where dwells the lady of my love, when she Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
a very agreeable one. I staid two days at Ferrara, A faint and fleeting memory of me;
and was much pleased with the Count Mosti, and the
little the shortness of the time permitted me to see of * What if thy deep and ample stream should be
his family. I went to his conversazione, which is very A mirror of my heart, where she may read The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee,
far superior to any thing of the kind at Venice—the Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed ! women alımost all young-several pretty-and the men " What do I say-a mirror of my heart?
courteous and cleanly. The lady of the mansion, who
is Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and strong ?
young, lately married, and with child, appeared Such as my feelings were and are, thou art;
very pretty by candlelight (I did not see her by day), And such as thou art were my passions long.
pleasing in her manners, and very lady-like, or tho* Time may have somewhat tamed them,-not for ever; rough-bred, as we call it in England,-a kind of thing Thou overflow'st thy banks, and not for aye
which reminds one of a racer, an antelope, or an ItaThy bosom overboils, congenial river!
lian greyhound. She seems very fond of her husband, Thy floods subside, and mine have sunk away,
who is amiable and accomplished; he has been in « But left long wrecks behind, and now again,
England two or three times, and is young. The sister, Borne in our old unchanged career, we move; a Countess somebody-I forget what they are both Thou tendest wildly onward to the main,
Maffei by birth, and Veronese of course)—is a lady of And 1-to loving one I should not love.
more display; she sings and plays divinely; but I « The current I behold will sweep beneath
thought she was a d-d long time about it. Her likeHer native walls and murmur at her feet;
ness to Madame Flahaut (Miss Mercer that was) is Her eyes will look on thee, when she shall breathe The twilight air, unharm'd by summer's heat. something quite extraordinary.
“ I had but a bird's-eye view of these people, and « She will look on thee,–I have look'd on thee,
shall not probably see them again; but I am very Full of that thought: and, from that moment, ne'er Thy waters could I dream of, name, or see,
much obliged to Mengaldo for letting me see them at Without the inseparable sigh for her!
all. Whenever I meet with any thing agreeable in
this world, it surprises me so much and pleases me so " Her bright eyes will be imaged in thy stream,Yes ! they will meet the wave I gaze on now :
much (when my passions are not interested one way or Mine cannot witness, even in a dream,
the other), that I go on wondering for a week to come. That happy wave repass me in its flow!
I feel,too, in great adnıiration of the Cardinal Legate's * The wave that bears my tears returns no more :
red stockings. Will she return by whom that wave shall sweep ?- “ I found, too, such a pretty epitaph in the Certosa Both tread thy banks, both wander on thy shore,
cemetery, or rather two : one was I by thy source, she by the dark blue deep.
• Martini Luigi « But that which keepeth us apart is not
Implora pace ;
« Lucrezia Picini • A stranger loves the lady of the land,
Implora eterna quiete.'
That was all; but it appears to me that these two and By the black wind that chills the polar flood. three words comprise and compress all that can be « My blood is all meridian ; were it not,
said on the subject,—and then, in Italian, they are I had not left my clime, nor should I be,
absolute music. They contain doubt, hope, and huIn spite of tortures, ne'er to be forgot,
mility; nothing can be more pathetic than the imA slave again of love,-at least of thee.
plora' and the modesty of the request;—they have had * A clerk of the English Consulate, whom he at this tiine enough of life—they want nothing but rest—they imemployed to control his accounts.
plore it, and ' eterna quiete.' It is like a Greek in+ The Po.
scription in some good old heathen ‘City of the Dead.