26

Lord Byron's new Poem, " The Lament of Tasso."

may be used with equal, or perhaps superior advantage.

[VOL. 2.

One material advantage attending this mode of coffee-making is, that a smaller quantity of the powdered berry is requisite to give the desired strength to the liquor. The common methods require that the powder be coarse, in which state it does not give out its virtue so completely as if it were ground finer; whereas in this process it may be used as fine as it can conveniently be made; and the finer it is the smaller will be the quantity required, or the richer the extract, as I have agreeably experienced, since I have been enabled by the new invention of Messrs. Deakin and Duncan, of Ludgate-hill, to have my coffee at once reduced to the proper degree of fineness by a single operation, without the tedious labour of a second grinding with the mill tightened.—I am, JOHN CAREY.

With respect to the lamp, although a fountain lamp is undoubtedly preferable, any of the common small lamps which are seen in every tin-shop, will answer the purpose, provided that it contain a sufficiency of oil to continue burning bright during the requisite length of time. The tube, or burner, of my lamp is little more than one-eighth of an inch in diameter; and this at the distance of one inch and three quarters below the bottom of the pot, with the wick little more than one-eighth of an inch high, and with pure spermaceti oil, has invariably performed, as above described, without requiring any trimming or other attention, and without producing any smoke; whereas if the wick was too high, or the Sir, yours, &c. oil not good, the certain consequences would be smoke, soot, and extinction.

June 1817.

THE LAMENT OF TASSO.

BY LORD BYRON.

At Ferrara (in the library) are preserved the original MSS. of Tasso's Gierusalemme and of Guarini's Pastor Fido, with letters of Tasso, one from Titian to Ariosto; and the inkstand and chair, the tomb and the house, of the latter. But as misfortune has a greater interest for posterity, and little or none for the contemporary, the cell where Tasso was confined in the hospital of St. Anna attracts a more fixed attention than the residence or the monument of Ariosto---at least, it had this effect on me. There are two inscriptions, one on the outer gate, the second over the cell itself, inviting, unnecessarily,the wonder and the indignation of the spectator. Ferrara is much decayed, and depopulated; the castle still exists entire; and I saw the court where Parisina and Hugo were beheaded, according to the annal of Gibbon.

And eagle-spirit of a Child of Song---
Long years of outrage, calumny, and wrong;
Imputed madness, prisoned solitude,
And the mind's canker in its savage mood,
When the impatient thirst of light and air
Parches the heart; and the abhorred grate,
Marring the sunbeams with its hideous shade,
Works thro' the throbbing eyeball to the brain
With a hot sense of heaviness and pain;
And bare, at once, Captivity displayed
Stands scoffing thro' the never-opened gate,
Which nothing thro' its bars admits, save day
And tasteless food, which I have eat alone
Till its unsocial bitterness is gone;
And I can banquet like a beast of prey,
Sullen and lonely, couching in the cave
Which is my lair, and---it may be---my grave.

All this bath somewhat worn me, and may
wear,

But must be borne. I stoop not to despair :
For I have battled with mine agony,
And made me wings werewith to overfly
The narrow circus of my dungeon wall,
And freed the Holy Sepulchre from thrall,
And revelled among men and things divine,
And poured my spirit over Palestine,
In honour of the sacred war for him,
The God who was on earth and is in heaven,
For he hath strengthened me in heart and limb.
That thro' this sufferance I might be forgiven,
I have employed my penance to record
How Salem's shrine was won, and how adored.
II.

But this is o'er----my pleasant task is done :---
My long-sustaining friend of many years!
If I do blot thy final page with tears,
Know, that my sorrows have wrung from me

none.

But thou, my young creation! my soul's child! Which ever playing round me came and smiled,

And wooed me from myself with thy sweet
sight,

Thou too art gone--and so is my delight:
And therefore do I weep and inly bleed
With this last bruise upon a broken reed.
Thou too art ended---what is left me now?
For I have anguish yet to bear---and how ?
I know not that---but in the innate force
Of my own spirit shall be found resource.
I have not sunk, for I had no remorse,
Nor cause for such: they called me mad---and
why?

Oh Leonora ! wilt not thou reply?
I was indeed delirious in my heart
To lift my love so lofty as thou art;

VOL. 2.]

Lord Byron's new Poem, "The Lament of Tasso."

But still my frenzy was not of the mind;
I knew my fault, and feel my punishment
Not less because I suffer it unbent.

That thou wert beautiful, and I not blind,
Hath been the sin which shuts me from man-
kind;

But let them go, or torture as they will,
My heart can multiply thine image still;
Successful love may sate itself away,

The wretched are the faithful; 't is their fate
To have all feeling save the one decay,
And every passion into one dilate,
As rapid rivers into ocean pour;

But ours is fathomless, and hath no shore.
III.

Above me, bark! the long and maniac cry
Of minds and bodies in captivity.
And hark! the lash and the increasing howl,
And the half-inarticulate blasphemy!

There be some here with worse than frenzy
foul,

Some who do still goad on the o'er-laboured
mind.

And dim the little light that's left behind
With needless torture, as their tyrant will
Is wound up to the lust of doing ill;
With these and with their victims am I classed.
'Mid sounds and sights like these long years
have passed;

'Mid sights and sounds like these my life may

close:

So let it be---for then I shall repose..

IV.

I have been patient, let me be so yet;
I had forgotten half I would forget,
But it revives---oh! would it were my lot
To be forgetful as I am forgot!

Feel I not wroth with those who bade me
dwell

In this vast lazar-house of many woes?
Where laughter is not mirth, nor thought the
mind,

Nor words a language, nor e'en men mankind:
Where cries reply to curses, shrieks to blows,
And each is tortured in his separate hell---
For we are crowded in our solitudes---
Many, but each divided by the wall,
Which echoes Madness in her babbling
moods ;---

While all can hear, none heed his neighbour's

call--

None! save that One, the veriest wretch of
all,

Who was not made to be the mate of these,
Nor bound between Distraction and Disease.
Feel I not wroth with those who placed me
bere ?

Who have debased me in the minds of men,
Debarring me the usage of my own,
Blighting my life in best of its career,
Branding my thoughts as things to shun and

fear?

Would I not pay them back these pangs again,
And teach them inward sorrow's stifled groan?
The struggle to be cain, and cold distress,
Which undermines our stoical success?
No!--still too proud to be vindictive---I
Have pardoned princes' insults, and would die.
Yes, Sister of my Sovereign! for thy sake
I weed all bitterness from out my breast,
It hath no business where thou art a guest;
Thy brother bates--but I can not detest;
Thou pitiest not---but I can not forsake.

27

As dwells the gathered lightning in its cloud,
Encompassed with its dark and rolling shroud,
Till struck,---forth flies the all-ethereal dart!'
And thus at the collision of thy name
The vivid thought still flashes through my frame,
Aud for a moment all things as they were
Flit by me---they are gone---I am the same.
And yet my love without ambition grew;
I knew thy state, my station, and I knew
A princess was no love-mate for a bard;
I told it not, I breathed it not, it was
Sufficient to itself, its own reward:
And if my eyes revealed it, they, alas!
Were punished by the silentness of thine,
And yet I did not venture to repine.
Thou wert to me a crystal-girded shrine,
Worshipped at holy distance, and around
Hallowed and meekly kissed the saintly '
ground;

Not for thou wert a princess, but that Love
Had robed thee with a glory, and arrayed
Thy lineaments in beauty that dismayed---
Oh! not dismayed---but awed, like One above;
And in that sweet severity there was

A something which all softness did surpass---
I know not how---thy genius nastered mine--*
My star stood still before thee :---if it were
Presumptuous thus to love without design,
That sad fatality hath cost me dear;

Fit for this cell, which wrongs me, but for thee.
But thou art dearest still, and I should be
The very love which locked me to my chain
Hath lightened half its weight; and for the rest,
Though heavy, lent me vigour to sustain,
And look to thee with undivided breast,
And foil the ingenuity of Pain.
VI.

It is no marvel---from my very birth
My soul was drunk with love, which did pervade
And mingle with whate'er I saw on earth;
Of objects all inanimate I made
Idols, and out of wild and lonely flowers,
And rocks, whereby they grew, a paradise,
Where I did lay me down within the shade
Of waving trees, and dreamed uncounted hours,
Tho' I was chid for wandering; and the wise
Shook their white aged heads o'er me, and said
Of such materials wretched men were made,
And such a truant boy would end in wo,
And that the only lesson was a blow;
And then they smote me, and I did not weep,
But cursed them in my heart, and to my haunt
Returned and wept alone, and dreamed again
The visions which arise without a sleep.
And with my years my soul began to pant
With feelings of strange tumult and soft pain
And the whole heart exhaled into One Want,
But undefined and wandering, till the day
I found the thing I sought---and that was thee;
And then I lost my being all to be
Absorbed in thine--the world was past away...

Thou didst annihilate the earth to me!

VII.

I loved all solitude---but little thought
To spend I know not what of life, remote
From all communion with existence, save
The maniac and his tyrant; had I been
Their fellow, many years ere this had seen
My mind like theirs corrupted to its grave;
But who hath seen me writhe,or heard me rave?
Perchance in such a cell we suffer more
Than the wrecked sailor on his desert shore;
The world is all before him---mine is here,
Scarce twice the space they must accord my

bier.

What though he perish, he may lift his eye
And with a dying glance upbraid the sky---

28

Varieties: Critical, Literary, and Historical.

I will not raise my own in such reproof,
Although 'tis clouded by my dungeon roof.

VIII.

Yet do I feel at times my mind decline,
But with a sense of its decay :---I see
Unwonted lights along my prison shine,
And a strange demon, who is vexing me
With pilfering pranks and petty pains, below
The feeling of the healthful and the free;
But much to One, who long hath suffered so,
Sickness of heart, and narrowness of place,
And all that may be borne, or can debase.
I thought mine enemies had been but man,
But spirits may be leagued with them---all

Earth

Abandons---Heaven forgets me---in the dearth
Of such defence the Powers of Evil can,
It may be, tempt me further, and prevail
Against the outworn creature they assail.
Why in this furnace is my spirit proved
Like steel in tempering fire? because I loved?
Because I loved what not to love, and see,
Was more or less than mortal, and than me.

IX.

I once was quick in feeling---that is o'er---
My scars are callous, or I should have dashed
My brain against these bars as the sun flashed
In mockery through them;---if I bear and bore
The much I have recounted, and the more
Which hath no words, 'tis that I would not die
And sanction with self-slaughter the dull lie
Which snared me here, and with the brand of
shame

Stamp madness deep into my memory,
And woo compassion to a blighted name,
Sealing the sentence which my foes proclaim.

Sir,

[VOL. 2.

No---it shall be immortal !---and I make
A future temple of my present cell,
Which nations yet shall visit for my sake.
While thou, Ferrara! when no longer dwell
The ducal chiefs within thee, shalt fall down,
And crumbling piecemeal view thy hearthless
halls,

A poet's wreath shall be thine only crown,
A poet's dungeon thy most far renown,
While strangers wonder o'er thy unpeopled
walls

And thou, Leonora ! thou---who wert ashamed
That such as I could love---who blushed to
hear

To less than monarchs that thou couldst be
dear,

Go! tell thy brother that my heart, untamed
By grief, years, weariness---and it may be
A taint of that he would impute to me---
From long infection of a den like this,
Where the mind rots congenial with the abyss,
Adores thee still ;---and ädd---that when the
towers

And battlements which guard his joyous hours
Of banquet, dance, and revel, are forgot,
This---this shall be a consecrated spot!
Or left untended in a dull repose,
But thou---when all that Birth and Beauty

throws

One half the laurel which o'ershades my grave.
Of magic round thee is extinct---shalt have
As none in life could rend thee from my heart.
No power in death can tear our names apart,
Yes, Leonora ! it shall be our fate

To be entwined for ever---but too late!

VARIETIES:

CRITICAL, LITERARY, AND HISTORICAL.

To the Editor of the Monthly Magazine.

the cork fixed again in the bottle's throat; IN your very valuable publication for, let it be recollected, the water presswe are informed that a glass bottle, es in every direction alike; and, as long empty, corked, and sealed at the end,* in as any could squeeze in, so long would order, to distinguish the ends, was fasten- the cork continue to rise towards its place; ed to a sea-line, and let down into the if there was room for only one particle to sea to the depth of 100 fathoms; on go abreast by the side, or through the being drawn up, it was found to be filled cork, it would be sufficient to raise it. with water, and the cork inverted, firmly Now, with regard to the cork being infixed into the neck of the bottle; and, verted, and that repeatedly, I think is being repeatedly done, the same effects easily accounted for, thus-sealing-wax were produced. A foot cube of sea-wa- is much heavier than water, and much ter (as I am informed,) weighs 1030 more so than cork; it is very natural ounces (avoirdupois). Now, suppose then for the sealed end to preponderate. the throat of the bottle in width would This is perfectly consistent with the laws square five-eighths one-sixteenth of an of gravity: hence the lighter end leads inch, the pressure of water on the cork the way into the throat of the bottle. would be 125 pounds at the above depth. I presume a cork cannot be stuffed into a bottle so firm as to resist this weight; I think the neck of the bottle will sooner burst; but, however this may be, I am persuaded it was not. By this pressure, then, is the cork forced into the bottle, and it fills, and by the same pressure is See Ath. Vol. I. p. 257.

April 1817.

W. BLOORE.

From La Belle Assemblee.
A PARALLEL TO MADAME LAVALETTE.
The exertions of Madame Lavalette to

save her husband have been highly extol-
led, yet not above their meed. The lady
of an ancestor of a late Asiatic victor,
Sir H. encountered greater personal

VOL. 2.]

Varieties: Critical, &c.

29

danger, and was not less successful in de- breathes the soul of fire which informed' livering her husband from imminent peril. his athletic indefatigable frame.

THE BARBERRY-BUSH.

From the Gentleman's Magazine.

Your correspondent R. C. in remark ing, from experiment, that "neither

M. M-, of N, was more than suspected of treasonable correspondence with Prince Charles Edward, and the poetical and musical John Roy Stewart, supported by a party of the Scotch Greys, apprehended him. Mr. spring-wheat, about thirty yards distant, Stewart was by birth a gentleman, but a nor Lammas, about fifty, was at all insergeantcy of dragoons was no mean jured by this (supposed) noxious neighappointment for the son of a vassal in bour," has furnished a proof, in addition those days, when bon-fires were blazing to the many previously existing, of the through a very extensive district, because entire harmlessness of the Barberry-bush, the younger brother of a powerful chief in respect to its supposed power of milhad obtained an Ensigncy in a regiment dewing wheat in proximity with it. I of foot. When a young gentleman hope this gentleman will excuse my exdetermined to take his chance of a hal- pressing a wish that he had authenticated berd, he prevailed with two or three the above communication with his real cousins, or friends, to share the adventure, name, since he would have been thereby, and these well-descended soldiers made to a greater degree, instrumental in roota separate cast in their corps. Mr. Stew- ing out a nonsensical and groundless preart was politely entertained at N—, judice, which has served to root up many and urged to stay all night, with offers a harmless Barberry-bush. I refer to the of every accommodation for the men Gentleman's Magazine for November, under his command; but fearing a rescue 1815, for some observations on this submight be attempted he declined the in- ject,resulting from many years' experience. vitation, which he said would detain him May 14, 1817. JOHN LAURENCE. beyond the time specified in his orders. The lady was in hourly expectation of confinement, yet would not be dissuaded from attending her husband, wherever his destiny might doom him to prison, She beseeched Mr. Stewart to allow Mr. Mto take her behind him on a pillion. Mr. Stewart could not deny a request so touching. The prisoner rode slowly on account of his lady's situation. They came to a lone moor, and about its centre Mrs. Mcried out to Mr. Stewart to dispatch his men different ways, to call some of her own sex to assist her. She pointed out the directions nearest to dwelling-houses. The men received permission, and rode off.

PICTURES ON PAINTED GLASS. Richness and clearness of colour are among the chief sources of pleasure derived from visible objects. But this colour never of itself raises that pleasure so powerfully as when it is transparent from light passing through it. Thus the sun as he rises and sets in a serene summer, Sometimes shines through the steady, clouds with a lucidness, variety and power, that put to shame every other display of colour whatever :

"The clouds in thousand liv'ries dight, "Rob'd in flames and amber light." So in Painting on Glass, the richness and clearness of the tints immensely surpass Only Mr. Stewart remained; Mrs. all others, owing mainly to the light shiMafter a little time, begged his ning through the glass. The very shadhelp to alight, and in that act clasped ows themselves have considerable transhim so closely round the neck, as to give parency, and appear with a peculiar her husband time to escape, by spurring and lustrous charm, by the advance of his horse to the utmost speed. Mr. strong light into and its existence in the Stewart dared not rejoin his regiment. very domain of its natural enemy, shade, He hastened to the rebel army, and died yet without diminishing that requisite a colonel in the French service. John shade. In this, and in the excess of Roy Stewart's Strathspey is probably brightness in the lights, especially in the well known to our fair readers. We warm tints, the imagination revels in vihave presented them with a specimen of sual enjoyment. It feels a mental excihis poetry. Though unpolished, it tation, at once romantic and keen, from

the novelty and intensity of the scenea species of poetical temperament and cast of thought.-Examiner, July 1817.

From the European Magazine.
QUASSIA.

This valuable commodity has been much abused and despised, owing chiefly, I presume, to its having been generally pushed forward as a substitute; whereas, had it been suffered to stand forth upon its own merits, it would have made its way as a most welcome auxiliary in some of the most trying situations of life. Three strong, but simple claims, it has to public regard. First, the wood burned, powdered, and very finely sifted, furnishes a very excellent powder for the teeth, harmless in its immediate use, and salutary in its effect for cleansing, sweetening, and preserving them from decay; secondly, a strong decoction of the chips of quassia is a certain preventive and cure for chilblains (about one pound of chips, value 9d. to two gallons of water is sufficient); and, thirdly, half a wine glass of water in which cassia has been boiled, or long infused, taken in the morning fasting, is exceedingly conducive to the renovation of health, spirits, and appetite. Should you consider these plain, important, and unexpensive receipts worthy to be circulated through the medium of your valuable channel of communication, I will take the liberty to convey to you the result of my experiments, in cases of a similar nature. ECONOMICUS

ILLUSTRATION OF OBSCURE PROV-
ERBS, CEREMONIES, &c.

PREDICTIONS.

[VOL, 2,

There are two extraordinary instances of predictions being fulfilled, where no supernatural means can possibly be supposed.

The first is mentioned by the learned Bishop of Worcester, in the Preface to his Sermons on Prophecy. It is part of a chorus in the Medea of Seneca :

Venient annis
Secula, seris, quibus Oceanus
Vincula rerum laxet et ingens
Pateat tellus, Tiphysque novos
Deteget orbes.

This is obviously fulfilled by the invention of the compass, and the discovery of America.

The other is in the first book of Dante's
Purgatorio.

J' mi volsi a man' destro, e posi mente
All'altro polo, e vidi quatro stelle
Non viste mai, fuor ch' alla prima gente.

Now this is an exact description of the appearance of the four stars near the south pole; and yet Dante is known to have written before the discovery of the southern hemisphere.-Euro. Mag.

Lord Chesterfield, who died in 1773, foretold that the French Monarchy would not last to the end of the century: Nostradamus, foretold (very clumsily, in our opinion) the disastrous death of Henry II. Regioinontanus foretold the capture of Paris, by the Duke of Guise; and now follow more recent foretelling; videlicet.

46

There was a lady prophetess at Paris, Madame Normand, with whom Buonaparte was often closeted, for the purpose of explaining the Emperor's dreams; one in particular, which he had dreamt reThe fixing of evergreens, laurels,mis- peatedly, and which was past his finding tletoe, &c. in houses at Christmas, and out. It was the dream of the three practice of saluting females under the lat- phials; one full of a colourless, another ter.-Tradition says that the first christian of a red liquor, & the third with nothing church in Britain was built of boughs; in it. Madame Normand said, as soon and that the disciples adopted the plan as as she heard it, I know what it means; more likely to attract the notice of the peo- but dare not tell it:" "But I command ple, because the monks built their temples you," said the Emperor, "on pain of in that manner, probably in imitation of displeasure, to explain it." "Then, if I the temples of Saturn, which were always must," she said, "the red is the blood under the oak. The great feast of Saturn of your subjects, the white the tears of was held in December; and as the oaks their relatives, and the empty phial your were then without leaves, the people downfall." Napoleon would have brought bows and sprigs of evergreens-mounted into a furious passion with any and christians, on the 25th of the same one else; but as he had promised formontb, did the like, from whence origi- giveness he bridled his rage, and, as he nated the present custom.-New Mon.M. respected the prophetess, he dismissed