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ADDITION TO THE PREFACE.

I HAVE now waited till almost all our periodical journals have distributed their usual portion of criticism. To the justice of the generality of their criticisms I have nothing to object: it would ill become me to quarrel with their very slight degree of censure, when, perhaps, if they had been less kind they had been more candid. Returning, therefore, to all and each my best thanks for their liberality, on one point alone shall I venture an observation. Amongst the many objections justly urged to the very indifferent character of the "vagrant Childe" (whom, notwithstanding many hints to the contrary, 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, Honour, 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 Sainte-Palaye, passim, and more particularly vol. ii. p. 69. 1 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 Ovid. The "Cours d'amour, parlemens d'amour, ou de courtésie et de gentilesse" had much more of love than of courtesy or gentleness. See Roland on the same subject with Sainte-Palaye. Whatever other objection may be urged to that most unamiable personage Childe Harold, he was so far perfectly knightly in his attributes"No waiter, but a knight templar."2 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 reproche." 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 Marie-Antoinette was quite as chaste as most of those in whose honours 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

1 [" Qu'on lise dans l'Auteur du roman de Gérard de Roussillon, en Provençal, les détails très-circonstanciés dans lesquels il entre sur la réception faite par le Comte Gérard à l'ambassadeur du roi Charles; on y verra des particularités singulières, qui donnent une étrange idée des mœurs et de la politesse de ces siècles aussi corrompus qu'ignorans."- Mémoires sur l'Ancienne Chevalerie, par M. de la Curne de Sainte-Palaye, Paris, 1781, loc. cit.]

The Rovers, or the Double Arrangement. -[By Canning and Frere; first published in the Anti-jacobin, or Weekly Examiner.]

3 [In one of his early poems-"Childish Recollections," Lord Byron compares himself to the Athenian misanthrope, of whose bitter apophthegms many are upon record, though no authentic particulars of his life have come down to us ;

"Weary of love, of life, devoured with spleen,
I rest a perfect Timon, not nineteen," &c.]

as he is; it had been more agreeable, and ce more easy, to have drawn an amiable charact had been easy to varnish over his faults, to ma do more and express less; but he never was in as an example, further than to show, that ear version of mind and morals leads to satiety pleasures and disappointment in new ones, am even the beauties of nature, and the stim travel (except ambition, the most powerful excitements), are lost on a soul so constitu rather misdirected. Had I proceeded with th this character would have deepened as he the close; for the outline which I once mean up for him was, with some exceptions, the sh a modern Timon 3, perhaps a poetical Zeluco. London, 1813.

4 [It was Dr. Moore's object, in this powerf (now unjustly neglected), to trace the fatal effec from a fond mother's unconditional complianc humours and passions of an only child. With h tages of person, birth, fortune, and ability, Zelu. sented as miserable, through every scene of life the spirit of unbridled self-indulgence thus pamp fancy.]

The Lady Charlotte Harley, second daugh ward fifth Earl of Oxford (now Lady Charlotte Ba autumn of 1812, when these lines were addressed not completed her eleventh year. Mr. Westall's the juvenile beauty, painted at Lord Byron's re graved in "Finden's Illustrations of the Life an Lord Byron."]

[Peri, the Persian term for a beautiful I order of beings, is generally supposed to be anot our own word Fairy.]

mens of the antelope. "You have the eyes of a to dered all over the East as the greatest coma man be paid to a woman.]

- of Castri stands partly on the site of 4 the path of the mountain, from Chrysso, are tres hewn in and from the rock. “One," - if a king who broke his neck hunting." His Kİ TOPTANY chosen the fittest spot for such an 4ttle above Castri is a cave, supposed the mmurnar depth; the upper part of it is paved, and On the other side of Castri stands a Greek **** way above which is the cleft in the rock, raven difficult of ascent, and apparently zgre of the mountain; probably to the Co.

tuned by Pausanias. From this part mes and the Dews of Castalie."-["We "sais Mr. Hobhouse, with the spray of the zad here, if any where, should have felt the we drank deep, too, of the spring; butif without feeling sensible of any

III.

Childe Harold 4 was he hight:-but whence his name
And lineage long, it suits me not to say;
Suffice it, that perchance they were of fame,
And had been glorious in another day:
But one sad losel soils a name for aye,
However mighty in the olden time;
Nor all that heralds rake from coffin'd clay,
Nor florld prose, nor honied lies of rhyme,
Can blazon evil deeds, or consecrate a crime.
IV.

Childe Harold bask'd him in the noontide sun,
Disporting there like any other fly,

Nor deem'd before his little day was done
One blast might chill him into misery.
But long ere scarce a third of his pass'd by,
Worse than adversity the Childe befell;
He felt the fulness of satiety :

Then loathed he in his native land to dwell, Which seem'd to him more lone than Eremite's sad cell.

V.

For he through Sin's long labyrinth had run,

Nor made atonement when he did amiss,
Had sigh'd to many though he loved but one,
And that loved one, alas! could ne'er be his.
Ah, happy she! to 'scape from him whose kiss
Had been pollution unto aught so chaste;
Who soon had left her charms for vulgar bliss,
And spoil'd her goodly lands to gild his waste,
Nor calm domestic peace had ever deign'd to taste.
VI.

And now Childe Harold was sore sick at heart,
And from his fellow bacchanals would flee;
"Tis said, at times the sullen tear would start,
But Pride congeal'd the drop within his ee:
Apart he stalk'd in joyless reverie,

And from his native land resolved to go,
And visit scorching climes beyond the sea;
With pleasure drugg'd, he almost long'd for woe,
And e'en for change of scene would seek the shades
below. 5

VII.

The Childe departed from his father's hall;
It was a vast and venerable pile;

So old, it seemed only not to fall,

Yet strength was pillar'd in each massy aisle. Monastic dome! condemn'd to uses vile! Where Superstition once had made her den Now Paphian girls were known to sing and smile; And monks might deem their time was come agen, If ancient tales say true, nor wrong these holy men.

3 [This stanza is not in the original MS.] ["Childe Buron." - MS.]

5 [In these stanzas, and indeed throughout his works, we must not accept too literally Lord Byron's testimony against himself he took a morbid pleasure in darkening every shadow of his self-portraiture. His interior at Newstead had, no doubt, been, in some points, loose and irregular enough; but it certainly never exhibited any thing of the profuse and Satanic luxury which the language in the text might seem to indicate. In fact, the narrowness of his means at the time the verses refer to would alone have precluded this. His household economy, while he remained at the abbey, is known to have been conducted on a very moderate scale; and, besides, his usual companions, though far from being averse to convivial indulgences, were not only, as Mr. Moore says, "of habits and tastes too intellectual for mere vulgar debauchery," but assuredly, quite incapable of playing the parts of flatterers and parasites.]

The sails were fill'd, and fair the light winds blew,
As glad to waft him from his native home;
And fast the white rocks faded from his view,
And soon were lost in circumambient foam:
And then, it may be, of his wish to roam
Repented he, but in his bosom slept

The silent thought, nor from his lips did come
One word of wail, whilst others sate and wept,
And to the reckless gales unmanly moaning kept.

1["Yet deem him not from this with breast of steel."-MS.] His house, his home, his vassals, and his lands, The Dalilahs," &c. - MS.]

3 [Lord Byron originally intended to visit India.] 4 See" Lord Maxwell's Good Night," in Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. Poetical Works, vol. ii. p. 141. ed. 1834.-"Adieu, madam, my mother dear," &c.— MS.]

"

[This "little page' was Robert Rushton, the son of one of Lord Byron's tenants." Robert I take with me," says the poet, in a letter to his mother; "I like him, because, like myself, he seems a friendless animal: tell his father he is well, and doing well."]

6" Our best goss-hawk can hardly fly

So merrily along."- MS.]

7 ["Oh, master dear! I do not cry

From fear of waves or wind."- MS.]

[Seeing that the boy was "sorrowful" at the separation from his parents, Lord Byron, on reaching Gibraltar, sent him back to England under the care of his old servant Joe

But when the sun was sinking in the sea
He seized his harp, which he at times coul
And strike, albeit with untaught melody,
When deem'd he no strange ear was listeni
And now his fingers o'er it he did fling,
And tuned his farewell in the dim twilight
While flew the vessel on her snowy wing,
And fleeting shores receded from his sight,
Thus to the elements he pour'd his last "Good
"ADIEU, adieu! my native shore
Fades o'er the waters blue;

The Night-winds sigh, the breakers roar
And shrieks the wild sea-mew.
Yon Sun that sets upon the sea
We follow in his flight;
Farewell awhile to him and thee,

My native Land-Good Night!

"A few short hours and He will rise
To give the morrow birth;
And I shall hail the main and skies,
But not my mother earth.
Deserted is my own good hall,

Its hearth is desolate;

Wild weeds are gathering on the wall;
My dog howls at the gate.

"Come hither, hither, my little page! 5
Why dost thou weep and wail?
Or dost thou dread the billow's rage,
Or tremble at the gale?

But dash the tear-drop from thine eye;
Our ship is swift and strong:
Our fleetest falcon scarce can fly
More merrily along. 6

'Let winds be shrill, let waves roll high
I fear not wave nor wind:

Yet marvel not, Sir Childe, that I
Am sorrowful in mind; 8

For I have from my father gone,
A mother whom I love,

And have no friend, save these alone,
But thee and one above.

'My father bless'd me fervently,

Yet did not much complain;
But sorely will my mother sigh
Till I come back again.'-
"Enough, enough, my little lad !
Such tears become thine eye;
If I thy guileless bosom had,

Mine own would not be dry. 9

Murray. "Pray," he says to his mother," shew th kindness, as he is my great favourite." He also wr to the father of the boy, which leaves a most favo pression of his thoughtfulness and kindliness. " says, "sent Robert home, because the country w about to travel through is in a state which render particularly for one so young. I allow you to de your rent five and twenty pounds a year for his edu three years, provided I do not return before that t desire he may be considered as in my service. He h extremely well."]

[Here follows in the MS.:-
"My Mother is a high-born dame,
And much misliketh me;
She saith my riot bringeth shame
On all my ancestry:

I had a sister once I ween,
Whose tears perhaps will flow;
But her fair face I have not seen
For three long years and moe"]