The Works of Lord Byron Volume IV Part 42

Thus trammelled, thus condemned to Flattery's trebles, He toils through all, still trembling to be wrong: For fear some n.o.ble thoughts, like heavenly rebels, Should rise up in high treason to his brain, He sings, as the Athenian spoke, with pebbles In's mouth, lest Truth should stammer through his strain.

But out of the long file of sonneteers There shall be some who will not sing in vain, And he, their Prince, shall rank among my peers,[307]

And Love shall be his torment; but his grief Shall make an immortality of tears, And Italy shall hail him as the Chief Of Poet-lovers, and his higher song Of Freedom wreathe him with as green a leaf.

But in a farther age shall rise along The banks of Po two greater still than he; The World which smiled on him shall do them wrong Till they are ashes, and repose with me.

The first will make an epoch with his lyre, 110 And fill the earth with feats of Chivalry:[308]

His Fancy like a rainbow, and his Fire, Like that of Heaven, immortal, and his Thought Borne onward with a wing that cannot tire; Pleasure shall, like a b.u.t.terfly new caught, Flutter her lovely pinions o'er his theme, And Art itself seem into Nature wrought By the transparency of his bright dream.-- The second, of a tenderer, sadder mood, Shall pour his soul out o'er Jerusalem; 120 He, too, shall sing of Arms, and Christian blood Shed where Christ bled for man; and his high harp Shall, by the willow over Jordan's flood, Revive a song of Sion, and the sharp Conflict, and final triumph of the brave And pious, and the strife of h.e.l.l to warp Their hearts from their great purpose, until wave The red-cross banners where the first red Cross Was crimsoned from His veins who died to save,[ck]

Shall be his sacred argument; the loss 130 Of years, of favour, freedom, even of fame Contested for a time, while the smooth gloss Of Courts would slide o'er his forgotten name And call Captivity a kindness--meant To shield him from insanity or shame-- Such shall be his meek guerdon! who was sent To be Christ's Laureate--they reward him well!

Florence dooms me but death or banishment, Ferrara him a pittance and a cell,[309]

Harder to bear and less deserved, for I 140 Had stung the factions which I strove to quell; But this meek man who with a lover's eye Will look on Earth and Heaven, and who will deign To embalm with his celestial flattery, As poor a thing as e'er was sp.a.w.ned to reign,[310]

What will _he_ do to merit such a doom?

Perhaps he'll _love_,--and is not Love in vain Torture enough without a living tomb?

Yet it will be so--he and his compeer, The Bard of Chivalry, will both consume[311] 150 In penury and pain too many a year, And, dying in despondency, bequeath To the kind World, which scarce will yield a tear, A heritage enriching all who breathe With the wealth of a genuine Poet's soul, And to their country a redoubled wreath, Unmatched by time; not h.e.l.las can unroll Through her Olympiads two such names, though one[312]

Of hers be mighty;--and is this the whole Of such men's destiny beneath the Sun?[313] 160 Must all the finer thoughts, the thrilling sense, The electric blood with which their arteries run,[cl]

Their body's self turned soul with the intense Feeling of that which is, and fancy of That which should be, to such a recompense Conduct? shall their bright plumage on the rough Storm be still scattered? Yes, and it must be; For, formed of far too penetrable stuff, These birds of Paradise[314] but long to flee Back to their native mansion, soon they find 170 Earth's mist with their pure pinions not agree, And die or are degraded; for the mind Succ.u.mbs to long infection, and despair, And vulture Pa.s.sions flying close behind, Await the moment to a.s.sail and tear;[315]

And when, at length, the winged wanderers stoop, Then is the Prey-birds' triumph, then they share The spoil, o'erpowered at length by one fell swoop.

Yet some have been untouched who learned to bear, Some whom no Power could ever force to droop, 180 Who could resist themselves even, hardest care!

And task most hopeless; but some such have been, And if my name amongst the number were, That Destiny austere, and yet serene, Were prouder than more dazzling fame unblessed; The Alp's snow summit nearer heaven is seen Than the Volcano's fierce eruptive crest, Whose splendour from the black abyss is flung, While the scorched mountain, from whose burning breast A temporary torturing flame is wrung, 190 Shines for a night of terror, then repels Its fire back to the h.e.l.l from whence it sprung, The h.e.l.l which in its entrails ever dwells.

CANTO THE FOURTH.

Many are Poets who have never penned Their inspiration, and perchance the best: They felt, and loved, and died, but would not lend Their thoughts to meaner beings; they compressed The G.o.d within them, and rejoined the stars Unlaurelled upon earth, but far more blessed Than those who are degraded by the jars Of Pa.s.sion, and their frailties linked to fame, Conquerors of high renown, but full of scars.

Many are Poets but without the name; 10 For what is Poesy but to create From overfeeling Good or Ill; and aim[316]

At an external life beyond our fate, And be the new Prometheus of new men,[317]

Bestowing fire from Heaven, and then, too late, Finding the pleasure given repaid with pain, And vultures to the heart of the bestower, Who, having lavished his high gift in vain, Lies to his lone rock by the sea-sh.o.r.e?

So be it: we can bear.--But thus all they 20 Whose Intellect is an o'ermastering Power Which still recoils from its enc.u.mbering clay Or lightens it to spirit, whatsoe'er The form which their creations may essay, Are bards; the kindled Marble's bust may wear More poesy upon its speaking brow Than aught less than the Homeric page may bear; One n.o.ble stroke with a whole life may glow, Or deify the canva.s.s till it shine With beauty so surpa.s.sing all below, 30 That they who kneel to Idols so divine Break no commandment, for high Heaven is there Transfused, transfigurated:[318] and the line Of Poesy, which peoples but the air With Thought and Beings of our thought reflected, Can do no more: then let the artist share The palm, he shares the peril, and dejected Faints o'er the labour unapproved--Alas!

Despair and Genius are too oft connected.

Within the ages which before me pa.s.s 40 Art shall resume and equal even the sway Which with Apelles and old Phidias She held in h.e.l.las' unforgotten day.

Ye shall be taught by Ruin to revive The Grecian forms at least from their decay, And Roman souls at last again shall live In Roman works wrought by Italian hands, And temples, loftier than the old temples, give New wonders to the World; and while still stands The austere Pantheon, into heaven shall soar 50 A Dome,[319] its image, while the base expands Into a fane surpa.s.sing all before, Such as all flesh shall flock to kneel in: ne'er Such sight hath been unfolded by a door As this, to which all nations shall repair, And lay their sins at this huge gate of Heaven.

And the bold Architect[320] unto whose care The daring charge to raise it shall be given, Whom all Arts shall acknowledge as their Lord, Whether into the marble chaos driven 60 His chisel bid the Hebrew,[321] at whose word Israel left Egypt, stop the waves in stone,[cm]

Or hues of h.e.l.l be by his pencil poured Over the d.a.m.ned before the Judgement-throne,[322]

Such as I saw them, such as all shall see, Or fanes be built of grandeur yet unknown-- The Stream of his great thoughts shall spring from me[323]

The Ghibelline, who traversed the three realms Which form the Empire of Eternity.

Amidst the clash of swords, and clang of helms, 70 The age which I antic.i.p.ate, no less Shall be the Age of Beauty, and while whelms Calamity the nations with distress, The Genius of my Country shall arise, A Cedar towering o'er the Wilderness, Lovely in all its branches to all eyes, Fragrant as fair, and recognised afar, Wafting its native incense through the skies.

Sovereigns shall pause amidst their sport of war, Weaned for an hour from blood, to turn and gaze 80 On canva.s.s or on stone; and they who mar All beauty upon earth, compelled to praise, Shall feel the power of that which they destroy; And Art's mistaken grat.i.tude shall raise To tyrants, who but take her for a toy, Emblems and monuments, and prost.i.tute Her charms to Pontiffs proud,[324] who but employ The man of Genius as the meanest brute To bear a burthen, and to serve a need, To sell his labours, and his soul to boot. 90 Who toils for nations may be poor indeed, But free; who sweats for Monarchs is no more Than the gilt Chamberlain, who, clothed and feed, Stands sleek and slavish, bowing at his door.

Oh, Power that rulest and inspirest! how Is it that they on earth, whose earthly power[325]

Is likest thine in heaven in outward show, Least like to thee in attributes divine, Tread on the universal necks that bow, And then a.s.sure us that their rights are thine? 100 And how is it that they, the Sons of Fame, Whose inspiration seems to them to shine From high, they whom the nations oftest name, Must pa.s.s their days in penury or pain, Or step to grandeur through the paths of shame, And wear a deeper brand and gaudier chain?

Or if their Destiny be born aloof From lowliness, or tempted thence in vain, In their own souls sustain a harder proof, The inner war of Pa.s.sions deep and fierce? 110 Florence! when thy harsh sentence razed my roof, I loved thee; but the vengeance of my verse, The hate of injuries which every year Makes greater, and acc.u.mulates my curse, Shall live, outliving all thou holdest dear-- Thy pride, thy wealth, thy freedom, and even _that_, The most infernal of all evils here, The sway of petty tyrants in a state; For such sway is not limited to Kings, And Demagogues yield to them but in date, 120 As swept off sooner; in all deadly things, Which make men hate themselves, and one another, In discord, cowardice, cruelty, all that springs From Death the Sin-born's incest with his mother,[326]

In rank oppression in its rudest shape, The faction Chief is but the Sultan's brother, And the worst Despot's far less human ape.

Florence! when this lone spirit, which so long Yearned, as the captive toiling at escape, To fly back to thee in despite of wrong, 130 An exile, saddest of all prisoners,[327]

Who has the whole world for a dungeon strong, Seas, mountains, and the horizon's[328] verge for bars,[cn]

Which shut him from the sole small spot of earth Where--whatsoe'er his fate--he still were hers, His Country's, and might die where he had birth-- Florence! when this lone Spirit shall return To kindred Spirits, thou wilt feel my worth, And seek to honour with an empty urn[329]

The ashes thou shalt ne'er obtain--Alas! 140 "What have I done to thee, my People?"[330] Stern Are all thy dealings, but in this they pa.s.s The limits of Man's common malice, for All that a citizen could be I was-- Raised by thy will, all thine in peace or war-- And for this thou hast warred with me.--'Tis done: I may not overleap the eternal bar[331]

Built up between us, and will die alone, Beholding with the dark eye of a Seer The evil days to gifted souls foreshown, 150 Foretelling them to those who will not hear; As in the old time, till the hour be come When Truth shall strike their eyes through many a tear, And make them own the Prophet in his tomb.

Ravenna, 1819.

FOOTNOTES:

[276] {241}[Compare--

"He knew Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhime."

Milton, _Lycidas_, line 11.]

[277] [By "Runic" Byron means "Northern," "Anglo-Saxon."]

[278] [Compare "In that word, beautiful in all languages, but most so in yours--_Amor mio_--is comprised my existence here and hereafter."--Letter of Byron to the Countess Guiccioli, August 25, 1819, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 350. Compare, too, _Beppo_, stanza xliv.; _vide ante_, p. 173.]

[279] {243}[Compare--

"I pa.s.s each day where Dante's bones are laid: A little cupola more neat than solemn, Protects his dust."

_Don Juan_, Canto IV. stanza civ. lines 1-3.]

[280] [The _Ca.s.sandra_ or _Alexandra_ of Lycophron, one of the seven "Pleiades" who adorned the court of Ptolemy Philadelphus (third century B.C.), is "an iambic monologue of 1474 verses, in which Ca.s.sandra is made to prophesy the fall of Troy ... with numerous other historical events, ... ending with [the reign of] Alexandra the Great." Byron had probably read a translation of the _Ca.s.sandra_ by Philip Yorke, Viscount Royston (born 1784, wrecked in the _Agatha_ off Memel, April 7, 1808), which was issued at Cambridge in 1806. The _Alexandra_ forms part of the _Bibliotheca Teubneriana_ (ed. G. Kinkel, Lipsiae, 1880). For the prophecy of Nereus, _vide_ Hor., _Odes_, lib. i. c. xv.]

[281] {244}[In the notes to his _Essay on Epic Poetry_, 1782 (Epistle iii. pp. 175-197), Hayley (see _English Bards, etc._, line 310, _Poetical Works_, 1898, i. 321, note 1) prints a translation of the three first cantos of the _Inferno_, which, he says (p. 172), was written "a few years ago to oblige a particular friend." "Of all Hayley's compositions," writes Southey (_Quart. Rev._, vol. x.x.xi. pp.

283, 284), "these specimens are the best ... in thus following his original Hayley was led into a sobriety and manliness of diction which ... approached ... to the manner of a better age."

In a note on the Hall of Eblis, S. Henley quotes with approbation Hayley's translation of lines 1-9 of this Third Canto of the _Inferno_.

_Vathek_ ... by W. Beckford, 1868, p. 188.]

[282] [_L'Italia_: _Canto IV. del Pellegrinaggio di Childe Harold_ ...

tradotto da Michele Leoni, Italia (London?), 1819, 8. Leoni also translated the _Lament of Ta.s.so_ (_Lamento di Ta.s.so_ ... Recato in Italiano da M. Leoni, Pisa, 1818).]

[283] [Alfieri has a sonnet on the tomb of Dante, beginning--

"O gran padre Alighier, se dal ciel miri."

_Opere Scelle_, di Vittorio Alfieri, 1818, iii. 487.]

[284] [The Panther, the Lion, and the She-wolf, which Dante encountered on the "desert slope" (_Inferno_, Canto I. lines 31, _sq._), were no doubt suggested by Jer. v. 6: "Idcirco percussit eos leo de silva, lupus ad vesperam vastavit eos, pardus vigilans super civitates corum."

Symbolically they have been from the earliest times understood as denoting--the panther, l.u.s.t; the lion, pride; the wolf, avarice; the sins affecting youth, maturity, and old age. Later commentators have suggested that there may be an underlying political symbolism as well, and that the three beasts may stand for Florence with her "Black" and "White" parties, the power of France, and the Guelf party as typically representative of these vices (_The h.e.l.l of Dante_, by A. J. Butler, 1892, p. 5, note).

Count Giovanni Marchetti degli Angelini (1790-1852), in his _Discorso_ ... _della prima e princ.i.p.ale Allegoria del Poema di Dante_, contributed to an edition of _La Divina Commedia_, published at Bologna, 1819-21, i.

17-44, and reissued in _La Biografia di Dante_ ... 1822, v. 397, _sq_., etc., argues in favour of a double symbolism. (According to a life of Marchetti, prefixed to his _Poesie_, 1878 [_Una notte di Dante, etc._], he met Byron at Bologna in 1819, and made his acquaintance.)]

[285] {245}[For Vincenzo Monti (1754-1828), see letter to Murray, October 15, 1816 (_Letters_, 1899, iii. 377, note 3); and for Ippolito Pindemonte (1753-1828), see letter to Murray, June 4, 1817, (_Letters_, 1900, iv. 127, note 4). In his _Essay on the Present Literature of Italy_, Hobhouse supplies critical notices of Pindemonte and Monti, _Historical Ill.u.s.trations_, 1818, pp. 413-449. Cesare Arici, lawyer and poet, was born at Brescia, July 2, 1782. His works (Padua, 1858, 4 vols.) include his didactic poems, _La coltivazione degli Ulivi_ (1805), _Il Corallo_, 1810, _La Pastorizia_ (on sheep-farming), 1814, and a translation of the works of Virgil. He died in 1836. (See, for a long and sympathetic notice, Tipaldo's _Biografia degli Italiani Ill.u.s.tri_, iii. 491, _sq_.)]

[286] {247}The reader is requested to adopt the Italian p.r.o.nunciation of Beatrice, sounding all the syllables.

[287] [Compare--

"Within the deep and luminous subsistence Of the High Light appeared to me three circles, Of threefold colour and of one dimension, And by the second seemed the first reflected As Iris is by Iris, and the third Seemed fire that equally from both is breathed....

O Light Eterne, sole in thyself that dwellest."

_Paradiso,_ x.x.xiii. 115-120, 124 (_Longfellow's Translation_).]