with an apology; he certainly had no intention of inserting it; but really, the particular request of some friends,' &c. &c. It concludes with five stan zas on himself, the last and youngest of a noble line.' There is a good deal, also, about his maternal ancestors, in a poem on Lochin-y-gair, a mountain where he spent part of his youth, and might have learnt that pibroch is not a bagpipe, any more than duet means a fiddle. * * * "But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems of this noble minor, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content, for they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is, at best, he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parnassus; he never lived in a garret, like thorough-bred poets; and, though he once roved, a careless mountaineer, in the highlands of Scotland,' he has not, of late, enjoyed this advantage. Moreover, he expects no profit from his publication, and whether it succeeds or not, it is highly improbable, from his situation and pursuits hereafter,' that he should again condescend to become an author. Therefore, let us take what we get, and be thankful. What right have we poor devils to be nice? We are well off to have got so much from a man of this lord's station, who does not live in a garret, but has the sway' of Newstead Abbey! Again we say, let us be thankful, and, with honest Sancho, bid 'God bless the giver, nor look the gift horse in the mouth.'” Such was the criticism of the Edinburgh Review; and it is interesting to know that it was written by Lord Brougham. How little reliance is to be placed upon critics, after this! The Edinburgh Review, by the pen of the most famous man now known in Europe, denounces Byron as a driveller, and foresees, as well as foretells, that these poems, characterized as utterly contemptible, are "the last we shall have from him!" Byron was touched to the quick, and prepared himself for a vindictive retort. In 1809, he produced his "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," a stinging satire, not only upon the authors of the Edinburgh Review, but upon most of the distinguished literary characters of the day. It fell like a thunderbolt upon the public, especially upon the astounded critics. No doubt, Byron had been roused by the contempt heaped upon him. This induced him to collect his powers and put them to the most vigorous exercise. It is highly probable, that, but for the unjust and unstinted castigation he had received, neither he nor the public had ever known the full extent of his wonderful ability. Thus, in this, as in a thousand other instances, harsh and unjust depreciation wrought to the real advantage of the abused and injured object. At the time of the publication of the satire, Byron had left Cambridge, by no means having fairly improved his college advantages. Being entitled to a seat in the House of Lords, he had just made his appearance there. He always complained that on this occasion, somewhat trying of course to a young and sensitive man, none of his family friends,-none of those who owed him support,-appeared, to introduce him, or give him countenance. We may as well add here, that after his return from Greece, in 1812, he made two speeches in the House of Lords, which were respectable, but he gained no decided credit. Though he had undoubtedly made up his mind to try a political career, he soon abandoned this purpose, probably in consequence of his success as a poet. In July, 1809, he left England in company with his friend Hobhouse, and in a tour of two years, he travelled through Portugal, Spain, Greece and Turkey. Here he witnessed some of the most beautiful scenery in the world, and became familiar with places abounding in historical associations of the deepest interest. Here he enriched his mind with romantic incidents and poetic images, and sowed the seed of those touching, but melancholy reflections which shadow most of his after productions. His travels finished his poetical education; and we may observe that nearly everything he wrote subsequent to this event, is tinged with the atmosphere of the countries he visited, and bears more or less upon the narratives he gathered in "the clime of the East,"-in "the land of the sun!" Soon after his return, that is, in March, 1812, Byron published the two first cantos of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Though the measure was totally different from that of the current poetry of the time, and the tone of the poem at once sceptical and misanthropic, such were its wonderful beauties, that it bore the author, at one bound, to the pinnacle of fame. He said of himself, at this time, "I went to bed a common man, and when I got up in the morning, I found myself famous." He was immediately ranked among the won : derful men of the day; letters of gratulation poured in from all sides; the great, the rich, the powerful— lords and ladies-the flush and the fair-all crowded upon him their attentions and flatteries. It was hardly in human nature to resist the seductions of such adulation, it surely was not in Byron's; and, completely intoxicated, he yielded to the delicious current upon which he was launched. Down he glided, giving himself up to every species of indulgence, dissipation and debauchery. There was at this time, in London, a person of talent and literary pretensions, but not of very good reputation, by the name of Lady Caroline Lamb. She was, however, a woman of rank and fashion, and her house was the rendezvous of the choice spirits of London. She was captivated by the fame of Byron, and, it would seem, fascinated also by his person. For a time, the poet appears to have been pleased with her notice, and was often seen at her parties. She also visited Byron in the guise of a page, fancifully and beautifully attired. This intoxication soon passed away on the part of Byron, and the lady took revenge by writing a novel, in which the hero, under the name of Glenarvon, a monster of vice and crime, is intended to stand as the representative of her ungrateful lover. She speaks of him as possessing "an imagination of flame, playing round a heart of ice,"—and, perhaps, thus fairly draws the outline of Byron's real char acter. At a subsequent period of his life, and while in Italy, Byron wrote a rhyming list of his acquaintances in London, at this time-abusing nearly all in the most shocking terms. A single couplet, harsh and withering, was devoted to Lady Caroline. This list constituted part of that autobiography which Byron gave to Moore, some years before his death. Moore sold this to Murray, the bookseller, for two thousand pounds; but after Byron's death, taking back the autobiography of the great poet, he magnanimously repaid the money, and burnt the manuscript. It was so personal, so abusive, and so wicked, that it was impossible for persons of respectability to be concerned in its publication. The list, however, to which we have referred, was copied by Lady Caroline, together with some other chapters of the volume, which was lent her by Moore, or Murray the publisher. These were shown at her soirees, and thus their character became, at least, partially known. The lady was obliged to suppress the passages thus surreptitiously obtained. Though steeped in dissipation and involved in the whirl of fashionable society,-the observed of all observers, the great object of interest and attraction wherever he went,-flattered and sought by the little and the great,-Byron continued to write, and produced in succession, the Giaour, Bride of Abydos, and in 1814, the Corsair. Such was his reputation, that fourteen thousand of the latter were sold in a day,— a fact, affording an unparalleled evidence of the lively and pervading interest he had excited. In May, he produced the splendid ode upon the downfall of Napoleon, of which, as it refers to an interesting topic in this volume, we here insert three stanzas. It must be remembered, however, that Byron writes |