Chapter V: Introduction: To the Giaour (2)

"I loved her, Friar! nay, adored--
But these are words that all can use-- 1030
I proved it more in deed than word;
There's blood upon that dinted sword,
A stain its steel can never lose:
'Twas shed for her, who died for me,
It warmed the heart of one abhorred:
Nay, start not--no--nor bend thy knee,
Nor midst my sin such act record;
Thou wilt absolve me from the deed,
For he was hostile to thy creed!
The very name of Nazarene 1040
Was wormwood to his Paynim spleen.
Ungrateful fool! since but for brands
Well wielded in some hardy hands,
And wounds by Galileans given--
The surest pass to Turkish heaven--
For him his Houris still might wait
Impatient at the Prophet's gate.
I loved her--Love will find its way
Through paths where wolves would fear to prey;
And if it dares enough,'twere hard 1050
If Passion met not some reward--
No matter how, or where, or why,
I did not vainly seek, nor sigh:
Yet sometimes, with remorse, in vain
I wish she had not loved again.
She died--I dare not tell thee how;
But look--'tis written on my brow!
There read of Cain the curse and crime,
In characters unworn by Time:
Still, ere thou dost condemn me, pause; 1060
Not mine the act, though I the cause.
Yet did he but what I had done
Had she been false to more than one.
Faithless to him--he gave the blow;
But true to me--I laid him low:
Howe'er deserved her doom might be,
Her treachery was truth to me;
To me she gave her heart, that all
Which Tyranny can ne'er enthrall;
And I, alas! too late to save! 1070
Yet all I then could give, I gave--
'Twas some relief--our foe a grave.[ed]
His death sits lightly; but her fate
Has made me--what thou well mayst hate.
His doom was sealed--he knew it well,
Warned by the voice of stern Taheer,
Deep in whose darkly boding ear[117]
The deathshot pealed of murder near,
As filed the troop to where they fell!
He died too in the battle broil, 1080
A time that heeds nor pain nor toil;
One cry to Mahomet for aid,
One prayer to Alla all he made:
He knew and crossed me in the fray--
I gazed upon him where he lay,
And watched his spirit ebb away:
Though pierced like pard by hunter's steel,
He felt not half that now I feel.
I searched, but vainly searched, to find
The workings of a wounded mind; 1090
Each feature of that sullen corse
Betrayed his rage, but no remorse.[118]
Oh, what had Vengeance given to trace
Despair upon his dying face!
The late repentance of that hour
When Penitence hath lost her power
To tear one terror from the grave,[ee]
And will not soothe, and cannot save.

* * * * *

"The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name; 1100
But mine was like the lava flood
That boils in Ætna's breast of flame.
I cannot prate in puling strain
Of Ladye-love, and Beauty's chain:
If changing cheek, and scorching vein,[ef]
Lips taught to writhe, but not complain,
If bursting heart, and maddening brain,
And daring deed, and vengeful steel,
And all that I have felt, and feel,
Betoken love--that love was mine, 1110
And shown by many a bitter sign.
'Tis true, I could not whine nor sigh,
I knew but to obtain or die.
I die--but first I have possessed,
And come what may, I _have been_ blessed.
Shall I the doom I sought upbraid?
No--reft of all, yet undismayed[eg]
But for the thought of Leila slain,
Give me the pleasure with the pain,
So would I live and love again. 1120
I grieve, but not, my holy Guide!
For him who dies, but her who died:
She sleeps beneath the wandering wave--
Ah! had she but an earthly grave,
This breaking heart and throbbing head
Should seek and share her narrow bed.
She was a form of Life and Light,[119]
That, seen, became a part of sight;
And rose, where'er I turned mine eye,
The Morning-star of Memory! 1130

"Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven;[eh][120]
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Alia given,
To lift from earth our low desire.
Devotion wafts the mind above,
But Heaven itself descends in Love;
A feeling from the Godhead caught,
To wean from self each sordid thought;
A ray of Him who formed the whole;
A Glory circling round the soul! 1140
I grant _my_ love imperfect, all
That mortals by the name miscall;
Then deem it evil, what thou wilt;
But say, oh say, _hers_ was not Guilt!
She was my Life's unerring Light:
That quenched--what beam shall break my night?[ei]
Oh! would it shone to lead me still,
Although to death or deadliest ill!
Why marvel ye, if they who lose
This present joy, this future hope, 1150
No more with Sorrow meekly cope;
In phrensy then their fate accuse;
In madness do those fearful deeds
That seem to add but Guilt to Woe?
Alas! the breast that inly bleeds
Hath nought to dread from outward blow:
Who falls from all he knows of bliss,
Cares little into what abyss.[ej]
Fierce as the gloomy vulture's now
To thee, old man, my deeds appear: 1160
I read abhorrence on thy brow,
And this too was I born to bear!
'Tis true, that, like that bird of prey,
With havock have I marked my way:
But this was taught me by the dove,
To die--and know no second love.
This lesson yet hath man to learn,
Taught by the thing he dares to spurn:
The bird that sings within the brake,
The swan that swims upon the lake, 1170
One mate, and one alone, will take.
And let the fool still prone to range,[ek]
And sneer on all who cannot change,
Partake his jest with boasting boys;
I envy not his varied joys,
But deem such feeble, heartless man,
Less than yon solitary swan;
Far, far beneath the shallow maid[el]
He left believing and betrayed.
Such shame at least was never mine-- 1180
Leila! each thought was only thine!
My good, my guilt, my weal, my woe,
My hope on high--my all below.
Each holds no other like to thee,
Or, if it doth, in vain for me:
For worlds I dare not view the dame
Resembling thee, yet not the same.
The very crimes that mar my youth,
This bed of death--attest my truth!
'Tis all too late--thou wert, thou art 1190
The cherished madness of my heart![em]

"And she was lost--and yet I breathed,
But not the breath of human life:
A serpent round my heart was wreathed,
And stung my every thought to strife.
Alike all time, abhorred all place,[en]
Shuddering I shrank from Nature's face,
Where every hue that charmed before
The blackness of my bosom wore.
The rest thou dost already know, 1200
And all my sins, and half my woe.
But talk no more of penitence;
Thou seest I soon shall part from hence:
And if thy holy tale were true,
The deed that's done canst _thou_ undo?
Think me not thankless--but this grief
Looks not to priesthood for relief.[eo][121]
My soul's estate in secret guess:
But wouldst thou pity more, say less.
When thou canst bid my Leila live, 1210
Then will I sue thee to forgive;
Then plead my cause in that high place
Where purchased masses proffer grace.[ep]
Go, when the hunter's hand hath wrung
From forest-cave her shrieking young,
And calm the lonely lioness:
But soothe not--mock not _my_ distress!

"In earlier days, and calmer hours,
When heart with heart delights to blend,
Where bloom my native valley's bowers,[eq] 1220
I had--Ah! have I now?--a friend![er]
To him this pledge I charge thee send,[es]
Memorial of a youthful vow;
I would remind him of my end:
Though souls absorbed like mine allow
Brief thought to distant Friendship's claim,
Yet dear to him my blighted name.
'Tis strange--he prophesied my doom,
And I have smiled--I then could smile--
When Prudence would his voice assume, 1230
And warn--I recked not what--the while:
But now Remembrance whispers o'er[et]
Those accents scarcely marked before.
Say--that his bodings came to pass,
And he will start to hear their truth,
And wish his words had not been sooth:
Tell him--unheeding as I was,
Through many a busy bitter scene
Of all our golden youth had been,
In pain, my faltering tongue had tried 1240
To bless his memory--ere I died;
But Heaven in wrath would turn away,
If Guilt should for the guiltless pray.
I do not ask him not to blame,
Too gentle he to wound my name;
And what have I to do with Fame?
I do not ask him not to mourn,
Such cold request might sound like scorn;
And what than Friendship's manly tear
May better grace a brother's bier? 1250
But bear this ring, his own of old,
And tell him--what thou dost behold!
The withered frame, the ruined mind,
The wrack by passion left behind,
A shrivelled scroll, a scattered leaf,
Seared by the autumn blast of Grief!

* * * * *

"Tell me no more of Fancy's gleam,
No, father, no,'twas not a dream;
Alas! the dreamer first must sleep,
I only watched, and wished to weep; 1260
But could not, for my burning brow
Throbbed to the very brain as now:
I wished but for a single tear,
As something welcome, new, and dear:
I wished it then, I wish it still;
Despair is stronger than my will.
Waste not thine orison, despair[eu]
Is mightier than thy pious prayer:
I would not, if I might, be blest;
I want no Paradise, but rest. 1270
'Twas then--I tell thee--father! then
I saw her; yes, she lived again;
And shining in her white symar[122]
As through yon pale gray cloud the star
Which now I gaze on, as on her,
Who looked and looks far lovelier;
Dimly I view its trembling spark;[ev]
To-morrow's night shall be more dark;
And I, before its rays appear,
That lifeless thing the living fear. 1280
I wander--father! for my soul
Is fleeting towards the final goal.
I saw her--friar! and I rose
Forgetful of our former woes;
And rushing from my couch, I dart,
And clasp her to my desperate heart;
I clasp--what is it that I clasp?
No breathing form within my grasp,
No heart that beats reply to mine--
Yet, Leila! yet the form is thine! 1290
And art thou, dearest, changed so much
As meet my eye, yet mock my touch?
Ah! were thy beauties e'er so cold,
I care not--so my arms enfold
The all they ever wished to hold.
Alas! around a shadow prest
They shrink upon my lonely breast;
Yet still 'tis there! In silence stands,
And beckons with beseeching hands!
With braided hair, and bright-black eye-- 1300
I knew 'twas false--she could not die!
But _he_ is dead! within the dell
I saw him buried where he fell;
He comes not--for he cannot break
From earth;--why then art _thou_ awake?
They told me wild waves rolled above
The face I view--the form I love;
They told me--'twas a hideous tale!--
I'd tell it, but my tongue would fail:
If true, and from thine ocean-cave 1310
Thou com'st to claim a calmer grave,
Oh! pass thy dewy fingers o'er
This brow that then will burn no more;
Or place them on my hopeless heart:
But, Shape or Shade! whate'er thou art,
In mercy ne'er again depart!
Or farther with thee bear my soul
Than winds can waft or waters roll!

* * * * *

"Such is my name, and such my tale.
Confessor! to thy secret ear 1320
I breathe the sorrows I bewail,
And thank thee for the generous tear
This glazing eye could never shed.
Then lay me with the humblest dead,[ew]
And, save the cross above my head,
Be neither name nor emblem spread,
By prying stranger to be read,
Or stay the passing pilgrim's tread."[123]

He passed--nor of his name and race
He left a token or a trace, 1330
Save what the Father must not say
Who shrived him on his dying day:
This broken tale was all we knew[ex]
Of her he loved, or him he slew.

FOOTNOTES:

[55] {85} A tomb above the rocks on the promontory, by some supposed the sepulchre of Themistocles.

["There are," says Cumberland, in his _Observer_, "a few lines by Plato upon the tomb of Themistocles, which have a turn of elegant and pathetic simplicity in them, that deserves a better translation than I can give--

"'By the sea's margin, on the watery strand,
Thy monument, Themistocles, shall stand:
By this directed to thy native shore,
The merchant shall convey his freighted store;
And when our fleets are summoned to the fight
Athens shall conquer with thy tomb in sight.'"

Note to Edition 1832.

The traditional site of the tomb of Themistocles, "a rock-hewn grave on the very margin of the sea generally covered with water," adjoins the lighthouse, which stands on the westernmost promontory of the Piræus, some three quarters of a mile from the entrance to the harbour. Plutarch, in his _Themistocles_ (cap. xxxii.), is at pains to describe the exact site of the "altar-like tomb," and quotes the passage from Plato (the comic poet, B.C. 428-389) which Cumberland paraphrases. Byron and Hobhouse "made the complete circuit of the peninsula of Munychia," January 18, 1810.--_Travels in Albania_, 1858, i. 317, 318.]

[cg] {86}
_Fair clime! where_ ceaseless summer _smiles_
_Benignant o'er those blessed isles_,
_Which seen from far Colonna's height_,
_Make glad the heart that hails the sight_,
_And lend to loneliness delight_.
_There_ shine the bright abodes ye seek,
Like dimples upon Occan's cheek,
So smiling round the waters lave
_These Edens of the Eastern wave_.
Or _if, at times, the transient breeze_
_Break the_ smooth _crystal of the seas_,
_Or_ brush _one blossom from the trees_,
_How_ grateful _is each gentle air_
_That wakes and wafts the_ fragrance _there_.--[MS.]
----_the fragrance there_.--[Second Edition.]

[56] The attachment of the nightingale to the rose is a well-known Persian fable. If I mistake not, the "Bulbul of a thousand tales" is one of his appellations.

[Thus Mesihi, as translated by Sir William Jones--

"Come, charming maid! and hear thy poet sing,
Thyself the rose and he the bird of spring:
Love bids him sing, and Love will be obey'd.
Be gay: too soon the flowers of spring will fade."

"The full style and title of the Persian nightingale (_Pycnonotus hæmorrhous_) is 'Bulbul-i-hazár-dástán,' usually shortened to 'Hazar' (bird of a thousand tales = the thousand), generally called 'Andalib.'" (See _Arabian Nights_, by Richard F. Burton, 1887; _Supplemental Nights_, iii. 506.) For the nightingale's attachment to the rose, compare Moore's _Lalla Rookh_--

"Oh! sooner shall the rose of May
Mistake her own sweet nightingale," etc.

(Ed. "Chandos Classics," p. 423)

and Fitzgerald's translation of the _Rubáiyát_ of Omar Khayyám (stanza vi.)--

"And David's lips are lockt; but in divine
High piping Pehlevi, with 'Wine! Wine! Wine!
Red Wine!'--the Nightingale cries to the Rose
That sallow cheek of hers to incarnadine."

_Rubáiyát, etc._, 1899, p. 29, and note, p. 62.

Byron was indebted for his information to a note on a passage in _Vathek_, by S. Henley (_Vathek_, 1893, p. 217).]

[57] {87} The guitar is the constant amusement of the Greek sailor by night; with a steady fair wind, and during a calm, it is accompanied always by the voice, and often by dancing.

[ch] {88} _Should wanton in a wilderness_.--[MS.]

[ci] The first draft of this celebrated passage differs in many particulars from the Fair Copy, which, with the exception of the passages marked as _vars._ i. (p. 89) and i. (p. 90), is the same as the text. It ran as follows:--

_He who hath bent him o'er the dead_
_Ere the first day of death is fled_--
_The first dark day of Nothingness_
_The last of_ doom _and of distress_--
_Before_ Corruption's _cankering fingers_
_Hath_ tinged the hue _where Beauty lingers_
_And marked_ the soft and settled _air_
That dwells with all but Spirit there
_The fixed yet tender_ lines _that speak_
Of Peace along _the placid cheek_
_And--but for that sad shrouded eye_
_That fires not_--pleads _not--weeps not--now--_
_And but for that pale_ chilling _brow_
Whose touch tells of Mortality
{-And curdles to the Gazer's heart-}
_As if to him it could impart_
_The doom_ he only _looks upon_--
_Yes but for these and these alone_,
A moment--yet--a little hour
We _still might doubt the Tyrant's power_.

The eleven lines following (88-98) were not emended in the Fair Copy, and are included in the text. The Fair Copy is the sole MS. authority for the four concluding lines of the paragraph.

[58] [Compare "Beyond Milan the country wore the aspect of a wider devastation; and though everything seemed more quiet, the repose was like that of death spread over features which retain the impression of the last convulsions."--_Mysteries of Udolpho_, by Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, 1794, ii. 29.]

[cj] {89}
_And marked the almost dreaming air_,
_Which speaks the sweet repose that's there_.--

[MS. of Fair Copy.]

[59] {90}
"Aye, but to die, and go we know not where;
To lie in cold obstruction?"

_Measure for Measure_, act iii. sc. I, lines 115, 116.

[Compare, too, _Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza iv. line 5.]

[ck]
_Whose touch thrills with mortality_,
_And curdles to the gazer's heart_.--[MS. of Fair Copy.]

[60] I trust that few of my readers have ever had an opportunity of witnessing what is here attempted in description; but those who have will probably retain a painful remembrance of that singular beauty which pervades, with few exceptions, the features of the dead, a few hours, and but for a few hours, after "the spirit is not there." It is to be remarked in cases of violent death by gun-shot wounds, the expression is always that of languor, whatever the natural energy of the sufferer's character; but in death from a stab the countenance preserves its traits of feeling or ferocity, and the mind its bias, to the last. [According to Medwin (1824, 4to, p. 223), an absurd charge, based on the details of this note, was brought against Byron, that he had been guilty of murder, and spoke from experience.]

[61] [In Dallaway's _Constantinople_ (p. 2) [Rev. James Dallaway (1763-1834) published _Constantinople Ancient and Modern, etc_., in 1797], a book which Lord Byron is not unlikely to have consulted, I find a passage quoted from Gillies' _History of Greece_(vol. i. p. 335), which contains, perhaps, the first seed of the thought thus expanded into full perfection by genius: "The present state of Greece, compared to the ancient, is the silent obscurity of the grave contrasted with the vivid lustre of active life."--Moore, _Note to Edition_ 1832.]

[62] {91} [From hence to the conclusion of the paragraph, the MS. is written in a hurried and almost illegible hand, as if these splendid lines had been poured forth in one continuous burst of poetic feeling, which would hardly allow time for the pen to follow the imagination.--(_Note to Edition_ 1837. The lines were added to the Second Edition.)]

[cl] _Fountain of Wisdom! can it be_.--[MS. erased.]

[63] [Compare--

"Son of the Morning, rise! approach you here!"

_Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza iii. line 1.]

[cm]
_Why is not this Thermopylæ_;
_These waters blue that round you lave_
_Degenerate offspring of the free_--
_How name ye them what shore is this?_
_The wave, the rock of Salamis?_--[MS.]

[cn] {92}
_And he who in the cause expires_,
_Will add a name and fate to them_
_Well worthy of his noble stem_.--[MS.]

[co] _Commenced by Sire--renewed by Son_.--[MS.]

[cp]
_Attest it many a former age_
_While kings in dark oblivion hid_.--[MS.]

[cq] _There let the Muse direct thine eye_.--[MS.]

[cr] {93} _The hearts amid thy mountains bred_.--[MS.]

[64] Athens is the property of the Kislar Aga [kizlar-aghasî] (the slave of the Seraglio and guardian of the women), who appoints the Waywode. A pander and eunuch--these are not polite, yet true appellations--now _governs_ the _governor_ of Athens!

[Hobhouse maintains that this subordination of the waiwodes (or vaivodes = the Sclavic [Greek: boebo/da]) (Turkish governors of Athens) to a higher Turkish official, was on the whole favourable to the liberties and well-being of the Athenians.--_Travels in Albania_, 1858, i. 246.]

[cs]
_Now to the neighbouring shores they waft_
_Their ancient and proverbial craft_.--[MS. erased.]

[ct] {94} _he silent slants the doubtful creek_.--[MS]

[65] [The reciter of the tale is a Turkish fisherman, who has been employed during the day in the gulf of Ægina, and in the evening, apprehensive of the Mainote pirates who infest the coast of Attica, lands with his boat on the harbour of Port Leone, the ancient Piræus. He becomes the eye-witness of nearly all the incidents in the story, and in one of them is a principal agent. It is to his feelings, and particularly to his religious prejudices, that we are indebted for some of the most forcible and splendid parts of the poem.--Note by George Agar Ellis, 1797-1833.]

[66] [In Dr. Clarke's Travels (Edward Daniel Clarke, 1769-1822, published _Travels in Europe, Asia, Africa_, 1810-24), this word, which means _infidel_, is always written according to its English pronunciation, _Djour_. Byron adopted the Italian spelling usual among the Franks of the Levant.--_Note to Edition_ 1832.

The pronunciation of the word depends on its origin. If it is associated with the Arabic _jawr_, a "deviating" or "erring," the initial consonant would be soft, but if with the Persian _gawr_, or _guebre_, "a fire-worshipper," the word should be pronounced _Gow-er_--as Gower Street has come to be pronounced. It is to be remarked that to the present day the Nestorians of Urumiah are contemned as _Gy-ours_ (the _G_ hard), by their Mohammedan countrymen.--(From information kindly supplied by Mr. A. G. Ellis, of the Oriental Printed Books and MSS. Department, British Museum.)]

[cu] {95} _Though scarcely marked_----.--[MS.]

[cv]
_With him my wonder as he flew_.--[MS.]
_With him my roused and wondering view_.--[MS. erased.]

[cw] {96} _For him who takes so fast a flight_.--[MS. erased.]

[67] [Compare--

"A moment now he slacked his speed,
A moment breathed his panting steed."

Scott's _Lay of the Last Minstrel_, Canto I. stanza xxvii. lines 1, 2.]

[cx] _And looked along the olive wood_.--[MS.]

[68] "Tophaike," musket. The Bairam is announced by the cannon at sunset: the illumination of the mosques, and the firing of all kinds of small arms, loaded with _ball_, proclaim it during the night. [The Bairâm, the Moslem Easter, a festival of three days, succeeded the Ramazân.]

For the illumination of the mosques during the fast of the Ramazân, see _Childe Harold_, Canto II. stanza lv. line 5, _Poetical Works_, 1899, ii. 134, note 2.

[cy] {97} _Of transient Anger's Darkening blush_.--[MS.]

[69] [For "hasty," all the editions till the twelfth read "_darkening_ blush." On the back of a copy of the eleventh, Lord Byron has written, "Why did not the printer attend to the solitary correction so repeatedly made? I have no copy of this, and desire to have none till my request is complied with." _Notes to Editions_ 1832, 1837.]

[cz]
_As doubting if to stay or fly_--
_Then turned it swiftly to his blade;_
_As loud his raven charger neighed_--
_That sound dispelled his waking dream_,
_As sleepers start at owlet's scream_.--[MS.]

[70] Jerreed, or Djerrid [Jarid], a blunted Turkish javelin, which is darted from horseback with great force and precision. It is a favourite exercise of the Mussulmans; but I know not if it can be called a _manly_ one, since the most expert in the art are the Black Eunuchs of Constantinople. I think, next to these, a Mamlouk at Smyrna was the most skilful that came within my observation. [Lines 250, 251, together with the note, were inserted in the Third Edition.]

[da] {98}
_'Twas but an instant, though so long_
_When thus dilated in my song_.
_'Twas but an instant_----.--[MS.]

[db]
_Such moment holds a thousand years_.
or, _Such moment proves the grief of years_.--[MS.]

[71] ["Lord Byron told Mr. Murray that he took this idea from one of the Arabian tales--that in which the Sultan puts his head into a butt of water, and, though it remains there for only two or three minutes, he imagines that he lives many years during that time. The story had been quoted by Addison in the _Spectator_" [No. 94, June 18, 1711].--_Memoir of John Murray_, 1891, i. 219, note.]

[72] [Lines 271-276 were added in the Third Edition. The MS. proceeds with a direction (dated July 31, 1813) to the printer--"And alter

'A life of _woe_--an age of crime--'

to

'A life of _pain_--an age of crime.'

Alter also the lines

'On him who loves or hates or fears
Such moment holds a thousand years,'

to

'O'er him who loves or hates or fears
Such moment pours the grief of years.'"]

[dc] {99} _But neither fled nor fell alone_.--[MS.]

[73] The blast of the desert, fatal to everything living, and often alluded to in Eastern poetry.

[James Bruce, 1730-1794 (nicknamed "Abyssinian Bruce"), gives a remarkable description of the simoom: "I saw from the south-east a haze come, in colour like the purple part of the rainbow, but not so compressed or thick. It did not occupy twenty yards in breadth, and was about twelve feet high from the ground. It was a kind of blush upon the air, and it moved very rapidly.... We all lay flat on the ground ... till it was blown over. The meteor, or purple haze, which I saw was, indeed, passed, but the light air which still blew was of a heat to threaten suffocation." He goes on to say that he did not recover the effect of the sandblast on his chest for nearly two years (Brace's _Life and Travels_, ed. 1830, p. 470).--Note to Edition 1832.]

[dd] There are two MS. versions of lines 290-298: (A) a rough copy, and (B) a fair copy--

(A) _And wide the Spider's thin grey pall_
_Is curtained on the splendid wall_--
_The Bat hath built in his mother's bower_,
_And in the fortress of his power_
_The Owl hath fixed her beacon tower_,
_The wild dogs howl on the fountain's brim_
_With baffled thirst and famine grim_,
_For the stream is shrunk from its marble bed_
_Where Desolation's dust is spread_.--[MS.]

B. ["August 5, 1813, in last of 3rd or first of 4th ed."]
_The lonely Spider's thin grey pall_
_Is curtained o'er the splendid wall_--
_The Bat builds in his mother's bower;_
_And in the fortress of his power_
_The Owl hath fixed her beacon-tower_,
_The wild dog howls o'er the fountain's brink_,
_But vainly lolls his tongue to drink_.--[MS.]

[74] {100} [Compare "The walls of Balclutha were desolated.... The stream of Clutha was removed from its place by the fall of the walls. The fox looked out from the windows" (Ossian's _Balclutha_). "The dreary night-owl screams in the solitary retreat of his mouldering ivy-covered tower" (_Larnul, or the Song of Despair: Poems of Ossian_, discovered by the Baron de Harold, 1787, p. 172). Compare, too, the well-known lines, "The spider holds the veil in the palace of Cæsar; the owl stands sentinel on the watch-tower of Afrasyab" (_A Grammar of the Persian Language_, by Sir W. Jones, 1809, p. 106).]

[de]
_The silver dew of coldness sprinkling_
_In drops fantastically twinkling_
_As from the spring the silver dew_
_In whirls fantastically flew_
_And dashed luxurions coolness round_
_The air--and verdure on the ground_.--[MS.]

[df] {101}
_For thirsty Fox and Jackal gaunt_
_May vainly for its waters pant_.--[MS.]
or, _The famished fox the wild dog gaunt_
_May vainly for its waters pant_.--[MS.]

[dg] _Might strike an echo_----.--[MS.]

[dh] {102}
_And welcome Life though but in one_
_For many a gilded chamber's there_
_Unmeet for Solitude to share_.--- [MS.]

[75] ["I have just recollected an alteration you may make in the proof.... Among the lines on Hassan's Serai, is this--'Unmeet for Solitude to share.' Now, to share implies more than _one_, and Solitude is a single gentlewoman: it must be thus--

'For many a gilded chamber's there,
Which Solitude might well forbear;'

and so on. Will you adopt this correction? and pray accept a cheese from me for your trouble."--Letter to John Murray, Stilton, October 3, 1813, _Letters_, 1898, ii. 274.]

[di] _To share the Master's "bread and salt."_--[MS.]

[76] [To partake of food--to break bread and taste salt with your host, ensures the safety of the guest: even though an enemy, his person from that moment becomes sacred.--(Note appended to Letter of October 3, 1813.)

"I leave this (_vide supra_, note 1) to your discretion; if anybody thinks the old line a good one or the cheese a bad one, don't accept either. But in that case the word _share_ is repeated soon after in the line--

'To share the master's bread and salt;'

and must be altered to--

'To break the master's bread and salt.'

This is not so well, though--confound it!

If the old line ['Unmeet for Solitude to share'] stands, let the other run thus--

'Nor there will weary traveller halt,
To bless the sacred bread and salt.'"

(P.S. to Murray, October 3, 1813.)

The emendation of line 335 made that of line 343 unnecessary, but both emendations were accepted.

(Moore says (_Life_; p. 191, note) that the directions are written on a separate slip of paper from the letter to Murray of October 3, 1813).]

[dj] {103}
_And cold Hospitality shrinks from the labour_,
_The slave fled his halter and the serf left his labour_.--[MS.]
or, _Ah! there Hospitality light is thy labour_,
or, _Ah! who for the traveller's solace will labour?_--[MS.]

[77] I need hardly observe, that Charity and Hospitality are the first duties enjoined by Mahomet; and to say truth, very generally practised by his disciples. The first praise that can be bestowed on a chief is a panegyric on his bounty; the next, on his valour. ["Serve God ... and show kindness unto parents, and relations, and orphans, and the poor, and your neighbour who is of kin to you ... and the traveller, and the captives," etc.--_Korân_, cap. iv. Lines 350, 351 were inserted in the Fifth Edition.]

[78] The ataghan, a long dagger worn with pistols in the belt, in a metal scabbard, generally of silver; and, among the wealthier, gilt, or of gold.

[79] Green is the privileged colour of the prophet's numerous pretended descendants; with them, as here, faith (the family inheritance) is supposed to supersede the necessity of good works: they are the worst of a very indifferent brood.

[80] {104} "Salam aleikoum! aleikoum salam!" peace be with you; be with you peace--the salutation reserved for the faithful:--to a Christian, "Urlarula!" a good journey; or "saban hiresem, saban serula," good morn, good even; and sometimes, "may your end be happy!" are the usual salutes.

["After both sets of prayers, Farz and Sunnah, the Moslem looks over his right shoulder, and says, 'The Peace (of Allah) be upon you and the ruth of Allah,' and repeats the words over the left shoulder. The salutation is addressed to the Guardian Angels, or to the bystanders (Moslem), who, however, do not return it."--_Arabian Nights_, by Richard F. Burton, 1887: _Supplemental Nights_, i. 14, note.]

[dk]
_Take ye and give ye that salam_,
_That says of Moslem faith I am_.--[MS.]

[dl] _Which one of yonder barks may wait_.--[MS.]

[81] [In the MS. and the first five editions the broken line (373) consisted of two words only, "That one."]

[82] The blue-winged butterfly of Kashmeer, the most rare and beautiful of the species.

[The same insects (butterflies of Cachemir) are celebrated in an unpublished poem of Mesihi.... Sir Anthony Shirley relates that it was customary in Persia "to hawk after butterflies with sparrows, made to that use."--Note by S. Henley to _Vathek_, ed. 1893, p. 222. Byron, in his Journal, December 1, 1813, speaks of Lady Charlemont as "that blue-winged Kashmirian butterfly of book-learning."]

[dm] _If caught, to fate alike betrayed_.-[MS.]

[dn] {106} _The gathering flames around her close_.-[MS. erased.]

[83] {107} Alluding to the dubious suicide of the scorpion, so placed for experiment by gentle philosophers. Some maintain that the position of the sting, when turned towards the head, is merely a convulsive movement; but others have actually brought in the verdict "Felo de se." The scorpions are surely interested in a speedy decision of the question; as, if once fairly established as insect Catos, they will probably be allowed to live as long as they think proper, without being martyred for the sake of an hypothesis.

[Byron assured Dallas that the simile of the scorpion was imagined in his sleep.--_Recollections of the Life of Lord Byron_, by R. C. Dallas, p. 264.

"Probably in some instances the poor scorpion has been burnt to death; and the well-known habit of these creatures to raise the tail over the back and recurve it so that the extremity touches the fore part of the cephalo-thorax, has led to the idea that it was stinging itself."--_Encycl. Brit_., art. "Arachnida," by Rev. O. P. Cambridge, ii. 281.]

[do] _So writhes the mind by Conscience riven_.--[MS.]

[84] The cannon at sunset close the Rhamazan. [Compare _Childe Harold_,