Which now beneath them, but above shall

In its next verdure, when this fiery mass
Of living valour, rolling on the foe,

grow

And burning with high hope, shall moulder cold and low.

28. Last noon beheld them full of lusty life,
Last eve in Beauty's circle proudly gay,

The midnight brought the signal sound of strife,
The morn the marshalling in arms—the day
Battle's magnificently stern array!

The thunder-clouds close o'er it, which when rent
The earth is covered thick with other clay,
Which her own clay shall cover, heaped and pent,
Rider and horse-friend, foe-in one red burial blent!

NOTES.

21. There was &c. On the eve (June

15, 1815) of the march to Waterloo, the Duchess of Richmond gave a grand ball at Brussels, the English headquarters. The general officers were present, by command of the Duke of Wellington, who wished to keep the people in ignorance of the

approach of Bonaparte. 23. Brunswick's fated chieftain. 'I have particularly to regret His Serene Highness the Duke of Brunswick, who fell fighting gallantly at the head of his troops [at Quatre Bras, June 16]' (Wellington's Despatch to Earl Bathurst, June 19).- -His father was mortally wounded at Jena

(Oct. 14, 1806), where the Prussians, under him, were utterly defeated by the French under Napoleon. 24. Then and there was. Singular verb yet several subjects follow, three of which are plural. Explain. 26. Albyn's hills, the Highlands of Scotland.Evan's &c. 'Sir Evan Cameron, and his descendant Donald, the "gentle Lochiel" of the "forty-five "' (Byron). 27. Ardennes. 'The wood of Soignies is supposed to be a remnant of the forest of Ardennes, famous in Boiardo's Orlando, and immortal in Shakspeare's As You Like It' (Byron).

'I am not sure that any verses in our language surpass, in vigour and in feeling, this most beautiful description' (Sir W. Scott).

ON THE RHINE.

(From Childe Harold, Canto III. 55.)

1. The castled crag of Drachenfels
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,

And hills all rich with blossomed trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scattered cities crowning these,

Whose far white walls along them shine,
Have strewed a scene which I should see
With double joy wert thou with me!

2. And peasant girls, with deep-blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise;
Above, the frequent feudal towers

Through green leaves lift their walls of gray,
And many a rock which steeply lours,
And noble arch in proud decay,

Look o'er this vale of vintage-bowers;

But one thing want these banks of Rhine-
Thy gentle hand to clasp in mine!

3. I send the lilies given to me;

Though long before thy hand they touch,
I know that they must withered be,
But yet reject them not as such;
For I have cherished them as dear,
Because they yet may meet thine eye,
And guide thy soul to mine even here,
When thou behold'st them drooping nigh,
And know'st them gathered by the Rhine,
And offered from my heart to thine!

4. The river nobly foams and flows,
The charm of this enchanted ground,
And all its thousand turns disclose
Some fresher beauty varying round ;
The haughtiest breast its wish might bound
Through life to dwell delighted here;
Nor could on earth a spot be found
To nature and to me so dear,

Could thy dear eyes in following mine

Still sweeten more these banks of Rhine!

NOTES.

1. Drachenfels, Ger. = 'Dragon's rock,' is a little above Bonn, on the opposite (right) bank of the Rhine. The castle, built by an archbishop of Cologne in the beginning of the twelfth century, but now in ruins, is

900 feet above the river. About halfway up the hill is shewn the cavern of the dragon, which is said to have been killed by the hero Siegfried. -Thou. These absent greetings' were addressed to the poet's sister.

TO THE OCEAN.

(From Childe Harold, Canto IV.)

179. Roll on, thou deep and dark blue Ocean-roll !
Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in vain ;
Man marks the earth with ruin-his control
Stops with the shore ;-upon the watery plain
The wrecks are all thy deed, nor doth remain
A shadow of man's ravage, save his own,

When, for a moment, like a drop of rain,

He sinks into thy depths with bubbling groan, Without a grave, unknelled, uncoffined, and unknown.

180. His steps are not upon thy paths-thy fields
Are not a spoil for him-thou dost arise

And shake him from thee; the vile strength he wields
For earth's destruction thou dost all despise,
Spurning him from thy bosom to the skies,
And send'st him, shivering in thy playful spray,
And howling, to his gods, where haply lies
His petty hope in some near port or bay,

And dashest him again to earth ;—there let him lay.

181. The armaments which thunderstrike the walls
Of rock-built cities, bidding nations quake
And monarchs tremble in their capitals,
The oak leviathans, whose huge ribs make
Their clay creator the vain title take
Of lord of thee, and arbiter of war;
These are thy toys, and, as the snowy flake,
They melt into thy yeast of waves, which mar
Alike the Armada's pride, or spoils of Trafalgàr,

182. Thy shores are empires, changed in all save thee-
Assyria, Greece, Rome, Carthage, what are they?
Thy waters wasted them while they were free,
And many a tyrant since; their shores obey
The stranger, slave, or savage; their decay
Has dried up realms to deserts: not so thou,
Unchangeable save to thy wild waves' play—
Time writes no wrinkle on thine azure brow-
Such as creation's dawn beheld, thou rollest now.

183. Thou glorious mirror, where the Almighty's form
Glasses itself in tempests; in all time,

Calm or convulsed-in breeze, or gale, or storm,
Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime

Dark-heaving ;-boundless, endless, and sublime-
The image of Eternity-the throne

Of the Invisible; even from out thy slime
The monsters of the deep are made; each zone
Obeys thee; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.

184. And I have loved thee, Ocean! and my joy

Of youthful sports was on thy breast to be
Borne, like thy bubbles, onward from a boy
I wantoned with thy breakers-they to me
Were a delight; and if the freshening sea
Made them a terror-'twas a pleasing fear,
For I was as it were a child of thee,
And trusted to thy billows far and near,
And laid my hand upon thy mane-as I do here.

NOTE.

180. Let him lay. Byron has been much blamed for the vulgar blunder of using 'lay' (trans. verb) for 'lie' (intr.). Kington-Oliphant, Standard English, page 164, says: 'The

bard might have appealed to the [Herefordshire] transcript [of. The Harrowing of Hell] of 1313:'

'Sathanas, I bind thee, here shalt thou lay.'

DEATH OF HAIDEE.
(From Don Juan, Canto IV.)

59. A vein had burst, and her sweet lips' pure dyes
Were dabbled with the deep blood which ran o'er;

And her head drooped as when the lily lies
O'ercharged with rain : her summoned handmaids bore
Their lady to her couch with gushing eyes.

Of herbs and cordials they produced their store;
But she defied all means they could employ,
Like one life could not hold, nor death destroy...

64. Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not;
Her father watched, she turned her eyes away;
She recognised no being, and no spot,

However dear or cherished in their day;
They changed from room to room, but all forgot,
Gentle, but without memory, she lay ;

At length those eyes, which they would fain be weaning
Back to old thoughts, waxed full of fearful meaning.

65. And then a slave bethought her of a harp;
The harper came, and tuned his instrument:
At the first notes, irregular and sharp,

On him her flashing eyes a moment bent,

Then to the wall she turned, as if to warp

Her thoughts from sorrow, through her heart re-sent; And he began a long low island-song

Of ancient days, ere tyranny grew strong.

66. Anon her thin wan fingers beat the wall

In time to his old tune; he changed the theme, And sung of love; the fierce name struck through all Her recollection; on her flashed the dream

Of what she was, and is, if ye could call

To be so being in a gushing stream

The tears rushed forth from her o'erclouded brain,
Like mountain mists at length dissolved in rain. . .

69. Twelve days and nights she withered thus; at last,
Without a groan, or sigh, or glance, to shew

A parting pang, the spirit from her past:

And they who watched her nearest could not know

The very instant, till the change that cast

Her sweet face into shadow, dull and slow,