Press onwards with such strength and heat, They die; but ere their eyes could close, Fresh and furious, fast they fill The ranks unthinn'd, though slaughter'd still; And still, all deadly aim'd and hot, XXX. Darkly, sternly, and all alone, And made the sign of a cross with a sigh, XXXI. The vaults beneath the mosaic stone The carved crests, and curious hues Were smear'd, and slippery - stain'd, and strown Here, throughout the siege, had been ["Oh, but it made a glorious show!!!" Out.-GIF. FORD.] Minotti's last and stern resource The foe came on, and few remain To strive, and those must strive in vain: And fell the statues from their niche, To the high altar on they go; The cup of consecrated gold; Massy and deep, a glittering prize, That morn it held the holy wine, Converted by Christ to his blood so divine, And round the sacred table glow A spoil-the richest, and the last. XXXIII. So near they came, the nearest stretch'd To grasp the spoil he almost reach'd, When old Minotti's hand Touch'd with the torch the train "T is fired! Spire, vaults, the shrine, the spoil, the slain, Hurl'd on high with the shiver'd fane, In one wild roar expired! The shatter'd town- the walls thrown down As if an earthquake pass'd — Some fell in the gulf, which received the sprinkles With a thousand circling wrinkles; Some fell on the shore, but, far away, 2 [Strike out from " Up to the sky," &c. to " All blacken'd there and reeking lay." Despicable stuff. - - GIFFORD.] Little deem'd she such a day Would rend those tender limbs away. Not the matrons that them bore Could discern their offspring more; And down came blazing rafters, strown All blacken'd there and reeking lay. The nearer steed plunged o'er the plain, [Omit the next six lines. GIFFORD.] * I believe I have taken a poetical licence to transplant the jackal from Asia. In Greece I never saw nor heard these animals; but among the ruins of Ephesus I have heard them by hundreds. They haunt ruins and follow armies. 3 [Leave out this couplet. GIFFORD.] The "Siege of Corinth," though written, perhaps, with too visible an effect, and not very well harmonised in all its parts, cannot but be regarded as a magnificent composition. There is less misanthropy in it than in any of the rest; and the interest is made up of alternate representations of soft and solemn scenes and emotions, and of the tumult, and terrors, and intoxication of war. These opposite pictures are, perhaps, too violently contrasted, and, in some parts, too harshly coloured; but they are in general exquisitely designed, and executed with the utmost spirit and energy.-JEFFREY.] This poem, perhaps the most exquisitely versified one that ever the author produced, was written in London in the autumn of 1815, and published in February, 1816. Although the beauties of it were universally acknowledged, and frag. ments of its music ere long on every lip, the nature of the subject prevented it from being dwelt upon at much length in the critical journals of the time; most of which were conteat to record, generally, their regret that so great a poet should have permitted himself, by awakening sympathy for a pair of incestuous lovers, to become, in some sort, the apologist of their sin. An anonymous writer, in "Blackwood's Magazine," seems, however, to have suggested some particulars, in the execution of the story, which ought to be taken into consideration, before we rashly class Lord Byron with those poetical offenders, who have bent their powers" to divest incest of its hereditary horrors." "In Parisina," says this critic, "we are scarcely permitted to have a single glance at the guilt, before our attention is rivetted upon the punishment: we have scarcely had time to The delicacy or fastidiousness of the reader may deem such subjects unfit for the purposes of poetry. Greek dramatists, and some of the best of our old English writers, were of a different opinion: as Alfieri and Schiller have also been, more recently, condemn, within our own hearts, the sinning, though injured son, when For a departing being's soul The death-hymn peals and the hollow bells knoll : Kneeling at the Friar's knee; Sad to hear and piteous to see- With the block before and the guards around — While the crowd in a speechless circle gather The fatal guilt of the Princess is in like manner swallowed up in the dreary contemplation of her uncertain fate. We forbear to think of her as an adulteress, after we have heard that horrid voice' which is sent up to heaven at the death of her paramour - Whatsoe'er its end below, Her life began and closed in woe.' "Not only has Lord Byron avoided all the details of this unhallowed love, he has also contrived to mingle in the very incest which he condemns the idea of retribution; and our horror for the sin of Hugo is diminished by our belief that it was brought about by some strange and super-human fatalism, to revenge the ruin of Bianca. That gloom of righteous visitation, which invests, in the old Greek tragedies, the fated house of Atreus, seems here to impend with some portion of its ancient horror over the line of Esté. We hear, in the language of Hugo, the voice of the same prophetic solemnity which announced to Agamemnon, in the very moment of his triumph, the approaching and inevitable darkness of his fate : upon the Continent. The following extract will explain the facts on which the story is founded. The name of Azo is substituted for Nicholas, as more metrical. "Under the reign of Nicholas III. Ferrara was polluted with a domestic tragedy. By the testimony of an attendant, and his own observation, the Marquis of Este discovered the incestuous loves of his wife Parisina, and Hugo his bastard son, a beautiful and valiant youth. They were beheaded in the castle by the sentence of a father and husband, who published his shame, and survived their execution. He was unfortunate, if they were guilty: if they were innocent, he was still more unfortunate; nor is there any possible situation in which I can sincerely approve the last act of the justice of a parent." GIBBON'S Miscellaneous Works, vol. iii. p. 470. The gather'd guilt of elder times "That awful chorus does not, unless we be greatly mistaken, leave an impression of destiny upon the mind more powerful than that which rushed on the troubled spirit of Azo, when he heard the speech of Hugo in his hall of judgment: Thou gavest, and may'st resume my breath, We shall have occasion to recur to this subject when we reach our author's " Manfred." The facts on which the present poem was grounded are thus given in Frizzi's History of Ferrara : "This turned out a calamitous year for the people of Ferrara; for there occurred a very tragical event in the court of their sovereign. Our annals, both printed and in manuscript, with the exception of the unpolished and negligent work of Sardi, and one other, have given the following relation of it, from which, however, are rejected many details, and especially the narrative of Bandelli, who wrote a century afterwards, and who does not accord with the contemporary historians. "By the above-mentioned Stella dell' Assassino, the Marquis, in the year 1405, had a son called Ugo, a beautiful and ingenuous youth. Parisina Malatesta, second wife of Niccolo, like the generality of step-mothers, treated him with little kindness, to the infinite regret of the Marquis, who regarded him with fond partiality. One day she asked leave of her husband to undertake a certain journey, to which he consented, but upon condition that Ugo should bear her com. pany; for he hoped by these means to induce her, in the end, to lay aside the obstinate aversion which she had conceived against him. And indeed his intent was accomplished but too well, since, during the journey, she not only divested herself of all her hatred, but fell into the opposite extreme. After their return, the Marquis had no longer any occasion to renew his former reproofs. It happened one day that a servant of the Marquis, named Zoese, or, as some call him, Giorgio, passing before the apartments of Parisina, saw going out from them one of her chamber-maids, all terrified and in tears. Asking the reason, she told him that her mistress, for some slight offence, had been beating her; and, giving vent to her rage, she added, that she could easily be revenged, if she chose to make known the criminal familiarity which subsisted between Parisina and her step-son. The servant took note of the words, and related them to his master. He was astounded thereat, but scarcely believing his ears, he assured himself of the fact, alas! too clearly, on the 18th of May, by looking through a hole made in the ceiling of his wife's chamber. Instantly he broke into a furious rage, and arrested both of them, together with Aldobrandino Rangoni, of Modena, her gentleman, and also, as some say, two of the women of her chamber, as abettors of this sinful act. He ordered them to be brought to a hasty trial, desiring the judges to pronounce sentence, in the accustomed forms, upon the culprits. This sentence was death. Some there were that bestirred themselves in favour of the delinquents, and, amongst others, Ugoccion Contrario, who was all powerful with Niccolo, and also his aged and much deserving minister Alberto dal Sale. Both of these, their tears flowing down their checks, and upon their knees, implored him for mercy adducing whatever reasons they could suggest for sparing the of Parisina. I. It is the hour when from the boughs The nightingale's high note is heard ; It is the hour when lovers' vows Seem sweet in every whisper'd word; ? And gentle winds, and waters near, Make music to the lonely ear. Each flower the dews have lightly wet, And in the sky the stars are met, And on the wave is deeper blue, And on the leaf a browner hue, And in the heaven that clear obscure, So softly dark, and darkly pure, fenders, besides those motives of honour and decency which might persuade him to conceal from the public so scandalous a deed. But his rage made him inflexible, and, on the in stant, he commanded that the sentence should be put in execution. "It was, then, in the prisons of the castle, and exactly in those frightful dungeons which are seen at this day beneath the chamber called the Aurora, at the foot of the Lion's tower, at the top of the street Giovecca, that on the night of the 21st of May were beheaded, first, Ugo, and afterwards Parisina. Zoese, he that accused her, conducted the latter under his arm to the place of punishment. She, all along, fancied that she was to be thrown into a pit, and asked at every step, whether she was yet come to the spot? She was told that her punishment was the axe. She inquired what was become of Ugo, and received for answer, that he was aiready dead; at the which, sighing grievously, she exclaimed, Now, then, I wish not myself to live; and, being come to the block, she stripped herself with her own hands of all her ornaments, and wrapping a cloth round her head, submitted to the fatal stroke, which terminated the cruel scene. The same was done with Rangoni, who, together with the others, according to two calendars in the library of St. Francesco, was buried in the cemetery of that convent. Nothing else is known respecting the women. "The Marquis kept watch the whole of that dreadful night, and, as he was walking backwards and forwards, inquired of the captain of the castle if Ugo was dead yet? who answered him, Yes. He then gave himself up to the most desperate lamentations, exclaiming, Oh! that I too were dead, since I have been hurried on to resolve thus against my own Ugo !' And then gnawing with his teeth a cane which he had in his hand, he passed the rest of the night in sighs and in tears, calling frequently upon his own dear Ugo. On the following day, calling to mind that it would be necessary to make public his justification, seeing that the transaction could not be kept secret, he ordered the narrative to be drawn out upon paper, and sent it to all the courts of Italy. "On receiving this advice, the Doge of Venice, Francesco Foscari, gave orders, but without publishing his reasons, that stop should be put to the preparations for a tournament, which, under the auspices of the Marquis, and at the expense of the city of Padua, was about to take place, in the square of St. Mark, in order to celebrate his advancement to the ducal chair. "The Marquis, in addition to what he had already done, from some unaccountable burst of vengeance, commanded that as many of the married women as were well known to him to be faithless, like his Parisina, should, like her, be beheaded. Amongst others, Barberina, or, as some call her, Laodamia Romei, wife of the court judge, underwent this sentence, at the usual place of execution; that is to say, in the quarter of St. Giacomo, opposite the present fortress, beyond St. Paul's. It cannot be told how strange appeared this proceeding in a prince, who, considering his own disposition, should, as it seemed, have been in such cases most indulgent. Some, however, there were who did not fail to commend him." The above passage of Frizzi was translated by Lord Byron, || and formed a closing note to the original edition of "l'ari sina."] [" Ferrara is much decayed and depopulated, but the castle still exists entire; and I saw the court where Parisina and Hugo were beheaded, according to the annal of Gibbon.” - Byron Letters, 1817.] The opening verses, though soft and voluptuous, are tinged with the same shade of sorrow which gives character and harmony to the whole poem. JEFFREY. Which follows the decline of day, As twilight melts beneath the moon away. 1 II. But it is not to list to the waterfall And it is not to gaze on the heavenly light "Tis not for the sake of its full-blown flower; She listens but not for the nightingaleThough her ear expects as soft a tale. There glides a step through the foliage thick, And her cheek grows pale—and her heart beats quick. III. And what unto them is the world beside, Of aught around, above, beneath; They only for each other breathe; Their very sighs are full of joy So deep, that did it not decay, That happy madness would destroy The hearts which feel its fiery sway: Or thought how brief such moments last? We know such vision comes no more. IV. With many a lingering look they leave The spot of guilty gladness past: The Heaven she fears will not forgive her, The frequent sigh, the long embrace, I But it must come, and they must part V. And Hugo is gone to his lonely bed, To covet there another's bride; But she must lay her conscious head A husband's trusting heart beside. The lines contained in this section were printed as set to music some time since, but belonged to the poem where they But fever'd in her sleep she seems, A name she dare not breathe by day, And he to that embrace awakes, VI. He clasp'd her sleeping to his heart, And listened to each broken word: He hears-Why doth Prince Azo start, As if the Archangel's voice he heart? And well he may - a deeper doom Could scarcely thunder o'er his tomb, When he shall wake to sleep no more, And stand the eternal throne before. And well he may - his earthly peace Upon that sound is doom'd to cease. That sleeping whisper of a name Bespeaks her guilt and Azo's shame. his And whose that name? that o'er his pillow A thousand warriors forth had leapt, what is she? and what are they? Can she command, or these obey? All silent and unheeding now, With downcast eyes and knitting brow, And folded arms, and freezing air, Her knights and dames, her court-is there : And he for her had also wept, But for the eyes that on him gazed: His sorrow, if he felt it, slept; Stern and erect his brow was raised. Whate'er the grief his soul avow'd, And hers, -oh, hers!- he dared not throw XII. And Azo spake :-" But yesterday Ere day declines, I shall have none. Well, let that pass, there breathes not one Let that too pass;-the doom's prepared! Hugo, the priest awaits on thee, And then -thy crime's reward! Away! address thy prayers to Heaven, Before its evening stars are metLearn if thou there canst be forgiven; Its mercy may absolve thee yet. But here, upon the earth beneath, There is no spot where thou and I Together, for an hour, could breathe: Farewell! I will not see thee dieBut thou, frail thing! shalt view his headAway! I cannot speak the rest: Go! woman of the wanton breast, Not I, but thou his blood dost shed: Go! if that sight thou canst outlive, And joy thee in the life I give." XIII And here stern Azo hid his face- "It is not that I dread the death- Thou gav'st, and may'st resume my breath, possible thought and image is traditional; who have no notion that there are such things as fountains in the world, small as well as great; and who would therefore charitably derive every rill they behold flowing, from a perforation made in some other man's tank."] |