HEBREW MELODIES
INTRODUCTION TO HEBREW MELODIES
According to the "Advertisement" prefixed to Murray's First Edition of the Hebrew Melodies, London, 1815 (the date, January, 1815, was appended in 1832), the "poems were written at the request of the author's friend, the Hon. D. Kinnaird, for a selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan."
Byron's engagement to Miss Milbanke took place in September, 1814, and the remainder of the year was passed in London, at his chambers in the Albany. The so-called Hebrew Melodies were, probably, begun in the late autumn of that year, and were certainly finished at Seaham, after his marriage had taken place, in January-February, 1815. It is a natural and pardonable conjecture that Byron took to writing sacred or, at any rate, scriptural verses by way of giving pleasure and doing honour to his future wife, "the girl who gave to song What gold could never buy." They were, so to speak, the first-fruits of a seemlier muse.
It is probable that the greater number of these poems were in MS. before it occurred to Byron's friend and banker, the Honble. Douglas James William Kinnaird (1788-1830), to make him known to Isaac Nathan (1792-1864), a youthful composer of "musical farces and operatic works," who had been destined by his parents for the Hebrew priesthood, but had broken away, and, after some struggles, succeeded in qualifying himself as a musician.
Byron took a fancy to Nathan, and presented him with the copyright of his "poetical effusions," on the understanding that they were to be set to music and sung in public by John Braham. "Professional occupations" prevented Braham from fulfilling his part of the engagement, but a guinea folio (Part. I.) ("Selections of Hebrew Melodies, Ancient and Modern, with appropriate symphonies and accompaniments, by I. Braham and I. Nathan, the poetry written expressly for the work by the Right Honourable Lord Byron")—with an ornamental title-page designed by the architect Edward Blore (1789-1879), and dedicated to the Princess Charlotte of Wales—was published in April, 1815. A second part was issued in 1816.
The preface, part of which was reprinted (p. vi.) by Nathan, in his Fugitive Pieces and Reminiscences of Lord Byron, London, 1829, is not without interest—
"The Hebrew Melodies are a selection from the favourite airs which are still sung in the religious ceremonies of the Jews. Some of these have, in common with all their Sacred airs, been preserved by memory and tradition alone, without the assistance of written characters. Their age and originality, therefore, must be left to conjecture. But the latitude given to the taste and genius of their performers has been the means of engrafting on the original Melodies a certain wildness and pathos, which have at length become the chief characteristics of the sacred songs of the Jews....
"Of the poetry it is necessary to speak, in order thus publicly to acknowledge the kindness with which Lord Byron has condescended to furnish the most valuable part of the work. It has been our endeavour to select such melodies as would best suit the style and sentiment of the poetry."
Moore, for whose benefit the Melodies had been rehearsed, was by no means impressed by their "wildness and pathos," and seems to have twitted Byron on the subject, or, as he puts it (Life, p. 276), to have taken the liberty of "laughing a little at the manner in which some of the Hebrew Melodies had been set to music." The author of Sacred Songs (1814) set to airs by Beethoven, Mozart, Haydn, etc., was a critic not to be gainsaid, but from the half-comical petulance with which he "curses" and "sun-burns" (Letters to Moore, February 22, March 8, 1815, Letters, 1899, iii. 179, 183) Nathan, and his "vile Ebrew nasalities," it is evident that Byron winced under Moore's "chaff."
Apart from the merits or demerits of the setting, the title Hebrew Melodies is somewhat misleading. Three love-songs, "She walks in Beauty like the Night," "Oh! snatched away in Beauty's Bloom," and "I saw thee weep," still form part of the collection; and, in Nathan's folio (which does not contain "A spirit passed before me"), two fragments, "It is the hour when from the boughs" and "Francesca walks in the shadow of night," which were afterwards incorporated in Parisina, were included. The Fugitive Pieces, 1829, retain the fragments from Parisina, and add the following hitherto unpublished poems: "I speak not, I trace not," etc., "They say that Hope is Happiness," and the genuine but rejected Hebrew Melody "In the valley of waters we wept on the day."
It is uncertain when Murray's first edition appeared. Byron wrote to Nathan with regard to the copyright in January, 1815 (Letters, 1899, iii. 167), but it is unlikely that the volume was put on the market before Nathan's folio, which was advertised for the first time in the Morning Chronicle, April 6, 1815; and it is possible that the first public announcement of the Hebrew Melodies, as a separate issue, was made in the Courier, June 22, 1815.
The Hebrew Melodies were reviewed in the Christian Observer, August, 1815, vol. xiv. p. 542; in the Analectic Magazine, October, 1815, vol. vi. p. 292; and were noticed by Jeffrey [The Hebrew Melodies, though "obviously inferior" to Lord Byron's other works, "display a skill in versification and a mastery in diction which would have raised an inferior artist to the very summit of distinction">[ in the Edinburgh Review, December, 1816, vol. xxvii. p. 291.
ADVERTISEMENT
The subsequent poems were written at the request of my friend, the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, for a Selection of Hebrew Melodies, and have been published, with the music, arranged by Mr. Braham and Mr. Nathan.
January, 1815.
HEBREW MELODIES
SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY.[287]
I.
She walks in Beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which Heaven to gaudy day denies.
II.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
III.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
June 12, 1814.
THE HARP THE MONARCH MINSTREL SWEPT.
I.
The Harp the Monarch Minstrel swept,[le]
The King of men, the loved of Heaven!
Which Music hallowed while she wept
O'er tones her heart of hearts had given—
Redoubled be her tears, its chords are riven!
It softened men of iron mould,
It gave them virtues not their own;
No ear so dull, no soul so cold,
That felt not—fired not to the tone,
Till David's Lyre grew mightier than his Throne!
II.
It told the triumphs of our King,[lf]
It wafted glory to our God;
It made our gladdened valleys ring,
The cedars bow, the mountains nod;
Its sound aspired to Heaven and there abode![288]
Since then, though heard on earth no more,[lg]
Devotion and her daughter Love
Still bid the bursting spirit soar
To sounds that seem as from above,
In dreams that day's broad light can not remove.
IF THAT HIGH WORLD.
I.
If that high world,[289] which lies beyond
Our own, surviving Love endears;
If there the cherished heart be fond,
The eye the same, except in tears—
How welcome those untrodden spheres!
How sweet this very hour to die!
To soar from earth and find all fears
Lost in thy light—Eternity!
II.
It must be so: 'tis not for self
That we so tremble on the brink;
And striving to o'erleap the gulf,
Yet cling to Being's severing link.[lh]
Oh! in that future let us think
To hold each heart the heart that shares,
With them the immortal waters drink,
And soul in soul grow deathless theirs!
THE WILD GAZELLE.
I.
The wild gazelle on Judah's hills
Exulting yet may bound,
And drink from all the living rills
That gush on holy ground;
Its airy step and glorious eye[290]
May glance in tameless transport by:—
II.
A step as fleet, an eye more bright,
Hath Judah witnessed there;
And o'er her scenes of lost delight
Inhabitants more fair.
The cedars wave on Lebanon,
But Judah's statelier maids are gone!
III.
More blest each palm that shades those plains
Than Israel's scattered race;
For, taking root, it there remains
In solitary grace:
It cannot quit its place of birth,
It will not live in other earth.
IV.
But we must wander witheringly,
In other lands to die;
And where our fathers' ashes be,
Our own may never lie:
Our temple hath not left a stone,
And Mockery sits on Salem's throne.
OH! WEEP FOR THOSE.
I.
Oh! weep for those that wept by Babel's stream,
Whose shrines are desolate, whose land a dream;
Weep for the harp of Judah's broken shell;
Mourn—where their God hath dwelt the godless dwell!
II.
And where shall Israel lave her bleeding feet?
And when shall Zion's songs again seem sweet?
And Judah's melody once more rejoice
The hearts that leaped before its heavenly voice?
III.
Tribes of the wandering foot and weary breast,
How shall ye flee away and be at rest!
The wild-dove hath her nest, the fox his cave,
Mankind their country—Israel but the grave!
ON JORDAN'S BANKS.
I.
On Jordan's banks the Arab's camels stray,
On Sion's hill the False One's votaries pray,
The Baal-adorer bows on Sinai's steep—
Yet there—even there—Oh God! thy thunders sleep:
II.
There—where thy finger scorched the tablet stone!
There—where thy shadow to thy people shone!
Thy glory shrouded in its garb of fire:
Thyself—none living see and not expire!
III.
Oh! in the lightning let thy glance appear;
Sweep from his shivered hand the oppressor's spear!
How long by tyrants shall thy land be trod?
How long thy temple worshipless, Oh God?
JEPHTHA'S DAUGHTER.[291]
I.
Since our Country, our God—Oh, my Sire!
Demand that thy Daughter expire;
Since thy triumph was bought by thy vow—
Strike the bosom that's bared for thee now!
II.
And the voice of my mourning is o'er,
And the mountains behold me no more:
If the hand that I love lay me low,
There cannot be pain in the blow!
III.
And of this, oh, my Father! be sure—
That the blood of thy child is as pure
As the blessing I beg ere it flow,
And the last thought that soothes me below.
IV.
Though the virgins of Salem lament,
Be the judge and the hero unbent!
I have won the great battle for thee,
And my Father and Country are free!
V.
When this blood of thy giving hath gushed,
When the voice that thou lovest is hushed,
Let my memory still be thy pride,
And forget not I smiled as I died!
OH! SNATCHED AWAY IN BEAUTY'S BLOOM.[292]
I.
Oh! snatched away in beauty's bloom,
On thee shall press no ponderous tomb;
But on thy turf shall roses rear
Their leaves, the earliest of the year;
And the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:[li]
II.
And oft by yon blue gushing stream
Shall Sorrow lean her drooping head,[lj]
And feed deep thought with many a dream,
And lingering pause and lightly tread;
Fond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!
III.
Away! we know that tears are vain,
That Death nor heeds nor hears distress:
Will this unteach us to complain?
Or make one mourner weep the less?
And thou—who tell'st me to forget,[lk]
Thy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.[ll][293]
[Published in the Examiner, April 23, 1815.]
MY SOUL IS DARK.
I.
My soul is dark—Oh! quickly string[294]
The harp I yet can brook to hear;
And let thy gentle fingers fling
Its melting murmurs o'er mine ear.
If in this heart a hope be dear,
That sound shall charm it forth again:
If in these eyes there lurk a tear,
'Twill flow, and cease to burn my brain.
II.
But bid the strain be wild and deep,
Nor let thy notes of joy be first:
I tell thee, minstrel, I must weep,
Or else this heavy heart will burst;
For it hath been by sorrow nursed,
And ached in sleepless silence long;
And now 'tis doomed to know the worst,
And break at once—or yield to song.[295]
I SAW THEE WEEP.
I.
I saw thee weep—the big bright tear
Came o'er that eye of blue;[296]
And then methought it did appear
A violet dropping dew:
I saw thee smile—the sapphire's blaze
Beside thee ceased to shine;
It could not match the living rays
That filled that glance of thine.
II.
As clouds from yonder sun receive
A deep and mellow dye,
Which scarce the shade of coming eve
Can banish from the sky,
Those smiles unto the moodiest mind
Their own pure joy impart;
Their sunshine leaves a glow behind
That lightens o'er the heart.
THY DAYS ARE DONE.
I.
Thy days are done, thy fame begun;
Thy country's strains record
The triumphs of her chosen Son,
The slaughters of his sword!
The deeds he did, the fields he won,
The freedom he restored!
II.
Though thou art fall'n, while we are free
Thou shall not taste of death!
The generous blood that flowed from thee
Disdained to sink beneath:
Within our veins its currents be,
Thy spirit on our breath!
III.
Thy name, our charging hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Thy fall, the theme of choral song
From virgin voices poured!
To weep would do thy glory wrong:
Thou shalt not be deplored.
SAUL.
I.
Thou whose spell can raise the dead,
Bid the Prophet's form appear.
"Samuel, raise thy buried head!
King, behold the phantom Seer!"
Earth yawned; he stood the centre of a cloud:
Light changed its hue, retiring from his shroud.[lm]
Death stood all glassy in his fixéd eye;
His hand was withered, and his veins were dry;
His foot, in bony whiteness, glittered there,
Shrunken and sinewless, and ghastly bare;
From lips that moved not and unbreathing frame,
Like caverned winds, the hollow accents came.
Saul saw, and fell to earth, as falls the oak,
At once, and blasted by the thunder-stroke.[ln]
II.
"Why is my sleep disquieted?
Who is he that calls the dead?
Is it thou, O King? Behold,
Bloodless are these limbs, and cold:[lo]
Such are mine; and such shall be
Thine to-morrow, when with me:
Ere the coming day is done,
Such shalt thou be—such thy Son.
Fare thee well, but for a day,
Then we mix our mouldering clay.
Thou—thy race, lie pale and low,
Pierced by shafts of many a bow;
And the falchion by thy side
To thy heart thy hand shall guide:
Crownless—breathless—headless fall,
Son and Sire—the house of Saul!"[297]
Seaham, Feb., 1815.
SONG OF SAUL BEFORE HIS LAST BATTLE.
I.
Warriors and chiefs! should the shaft or the sword
Pierce me in leading the host of the Lord,
Heed not the corse, though a King's, in your path:[lp]
Bury your steel in the bosoms of Gath!
II.
Thou who art bearing my buckler and bow,[lq]
Should the soldiers of Saul look away from the foe,
Stretch me that moment in blood at thy feet!
Mine be the doom which they dared not to meet.
III.
Farewell to others, but never we part,
Heir to my Royalty—Son of my heart![lr]
Bright is the diadem, boundless the sway,
Or kingly the death, which awaits us to-day!
Seaham, 1815.
"ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER."
I.
Fame, Wisdom, Love, and Power were mine,
And Health and Youth possessed me;
My goblets blushed from every vine,
And lovely forms caressed me;
I sunned my heart in Beauty's eyes,
And felt my soul grow tender;
All Earth can give, or mortal prize,
Was mine of regal splendour.
II.
I strive to number o'er what days[ls]
Remembrance can discover,
Which all that Life or Earth displays
Would lure me to live over.
There rose no day, there rolled no hour
Of pleasure unembittered;[298]
And not a trapping decked my Power
That galled not while it glittered.
III.[lt]
The serpent of the field, by art
And spells, is won from harming;
But that which coils around the heart,
Oh! who hath power of charming?
It will not list to Wisdom's lore,
Nor Music's voice can lure it;
But there it stings for evermore
The soul that must endure it.
Seaham, 1815.
WHEN COLDNESS WRAPS THIS SUFFERING CLAY.
I.
When coldness wraps this suffering clay,[lu]
Ah! whither strays the immortal mind?
It cannot die, it cannot stay,
But leaves its darkened dust behind.
Then, unembodied, doth it trace
By steps each planet's heavenly way?[lv]
Or fill at once the realms of space,
A thing of eyes, that all survey?
II.
Eternal—boundless,—undecayed,
A thought unseen, but seeing all,
All, all in earth, or skies displayed,[lw]
Shall it survey, shall it recall:
Each fainter trace that Memory holds
So darkly of departed years,
In one broad glance the Soul beholds,
And all, that was, at once appears.
III.
Before Creation peopled earth,
Its eye shall roll through chaos back;
And where the farthest heaven had birth,
The Spirit trace its rising track.
And where the future mars or makes,
Its glance dilate o'er all to be,
While Sun is quenched—or System breaks,
Fixed in its own Eternity.
IV.
Above or Love—Hope—Hate—or Fear,
It lives all passionless and pure:
An age shall fleet like earthly year;
Its years as moments shall endure.
Away—away—without a wing,
O'er all—through all—its thought shall fly,
A nameless and eternal thing,
Forgetting what it was to die.
VISION OF BELSHAZZAR.[299]
I.
The King was on his throne,
The Satraps thronged the hall:[lx]
A thousand bright lamps shone
O'er that high festival.
A thousand cups of gold,
In Judah deemed divine—[ly]
Jehovah's vessels hold
The godless Heathen's wine!
II.
In that same hour and hall,
The fingers of a hand
Came forth against the wall,
And wrote as if on sand:
The fingers of a man;—
A solitary hand
Along the letters ran,
And traced them like a wand.
III.
The monarch saw, and shook,
And bade no more rejoice;
All bloodless waxed his look,
And tremulous his voice.
"Let the men of lore appear,
The wisest of the earth,
And expound the words of fear,
Which mar our royal mirth."
IV.
Chaldea's seers are good,
But here they have no skill;
And the unknown letters stood
Untold and awful still.
And Babel's men of age
Are wise and deep in lore;
But now they were not sage,
They saw—but knew no more.
V.
A captive in the land,
A stranger and a youth,[300]
He heard the King's command,
He saw that writing's truth.
The lamps around were bright,
The prophecy in view;
He read it on that night,—
The morrow proved it true.
VI.
"Belshazzar's grave is made,[lz]
His kingdom passed away.
He, in the balance weighed,
Is light and worthless clay;
The shroud, his robe of state,
His canopy the stone;
The Mede is at his gate!
The Persian on his throne!"
SUN OF THE SLEEPLESS!
Sun of the sleepless! melancholy star!
Whose tearful beam glows tremulously far,
That show'st the darkness thou canst not dispel,
How like art thou to Joy remembered well!
So gleams the past, the light of other days,
Which shines, but warms not with its powerless rays:
A night-beam Sorrow watcheth to behold,
Distinct, but distant—clear—but, oh how cold!
WERE MY BOSOM AS FALSE AS THOU
DEEM'ST IT TO BE.
I.
Were my bosom as false as thou deem'st it to be,
I need not have wandered from far Galilee;
It was but abjuring my creed to efface
The curse which, thou say'st, is the crime of my race.
II.
If the bad never triumph, then God is with thee!
If the slave only sin—thou art spotless and free!
If the Exile on earth is an Outcast on high,
Live on in thy faith—but in mine I will die.
III.
I have lost for that faith more than thou canst bestow,
As the God who permits thee to prosper doth know;
In his hand is my heart and my hope—and in thine
The land and the life which for him I resign.
HEROD'S LAMENT FOR MARIAMNE.[301]
I.
Oh, Mariamne! now for thee
The heart for which thou bled'st is bleeding;
Revenge is lost in Agony[ma]
And wild Remorse to rage succeeding.[mb]
Oh, Mariamne! where art thou?
Thou canst not hear my bitter pleading:[mc]
Ah! could'st thou—thou would'st pardon now,
Though Heaven were to my prayer unheeding.
II.
And is she dead?—and did they dare
Obey my Frenzy's jealous raving?[md]
My Wrath but doomed my own despair:
The sword that smote her 's o'er me waving.—
But thou art cold, my murdered Love!
And this dark heart is vainly craving[me]
For he who soars alone above,
And leaves my soul unworthy saving.
III.
She's gone, who shared my diadem;
She sunk, with her my joys entombing;
I swept that flower from Judah's stem,
Whose leaves for me alone were blooming;
And mine's the guilt, and mine the hell,
This bosom's desolation dooming;
And I have earned those tortures well,[mf]
Which unconsumed are still consuming!
Jan. 15, 1815.
ON THE DAY OF THE DESTRUCTION OF
JERUSALEM BY TITUS.
I.
From the last hill that looks on thy once holy dome,[mg]
I beheld thee, oh Sion! when rendered to Rome:[mh]
'Twas thy last sun went down, and the flames of thy fall
Flashed back on the last glance I gave to thy wall.
II.
I looked for thy temple—I looked for my home,
And forgot for a moment my bondage to come;[mi]
I beheld but the death-fire that fed on thy fane,
And the fast-fettered hands that made vengeance in vain.
III.
On many an eve, the high spot whence I gazed
Had reflected the last beam of day as it blazed;
While I stood on the height, and beheld the decline
Of the rays from the mountain that shone on thy shrine.
IV.
And now on that mountain I stood on that day,
But I marked not the twilight beam melting away;
Oh! would that the lightning had glared in its stead,
And the thunderbolt burst on the Conqueror's head![mj]
V.
But the Gods of the Pagan shall never profane
The shrine where Jehovah disdained not to reign;
And scattered and scorned as thy people may be,
Our worship, oh Father! is only for thee.
1815.
BY THE RIVERS OF BABYLON WE SAT
DOWN AND WEPT.[302]
I.
We sate down and wept by the waters[303]
Of Babel, and thought of the day
When our foe, in the hue of his slaughters,
Made Salem's high places his prey;
And Ye, oh her desolate daughters!
Were scattered all weeping away.
II.
While sadly we gazed on the river
Which rolled on in freedom below,
They demanded the song; but, oh never
That triumph the Stranger shall know![mk]
May this right hand be withered for ever,
Ere it string our high harp for the foe!
III.
On the willow that harp is suspended,
Oh Salem! its sound should be free;[ml]
And the hour when thy glories were ended
But left me that token of thee:
And ne'er shall its soft tones be blended
With the voice of the Spoiler by me!
Jan. 15, 1813.
"BY THE WATERS OF BABYLON."
I.
In the valley of waters we wept on the day
When the host of the Stranger made Salem his prey;
And our heads on our bosoms all droopingly lay,
And our hearts were so full of the land far away!
II.
The song they demanded in vain—it lay still
In our souls as the wind that hath died on the hill—
They called for the harp—but our blood they shall spill
Ere our right hands shall teach them one tone of their skill.
III.
All stringlessly hung in the willow's sad tree,
As dead as her dead-leaf, those mute harps must be:
Our hands may be fettered—our tears still are free
For our God—and our Glory—and Sion, Oh Thee!
1815.
THE DESTRUCTION OF SENNACHERIB.
I.
The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold,
And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold;
And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea,
When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee.
II.
Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green,
That host with their banners at sunset were seen:
Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown,[304]
That host on the morrow lay withered and strown.
III.
For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast,
And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed;
And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill,
And their hearts but once heaved—and for ever grew still!
IV.
And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide,
But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride;
And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf,[mm]
And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf.[mn]
V.
And there lay the rider distorted and pale,
With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail:[mo]
And the tents were all silent—the banners alone—
The lances unlifted—the trumpet unblown.
VI.
And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail,[mp]
And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal;
And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword,[mq]
Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!
Seaham, Feb. 17, 1815.
A SPIRIT PASSED BEFORE ME.
FROM JOB.
I.
A spirit passed before me: I beheld
The face of Immortality unveiled—
Deep Sleep came down on every eye save mine—
And there it stood,—all formless—but divine:
Along my bones the creeping flesh did quake;
And as my damp hair stiffened, thus it spake:
II.
"Is man more just than God? Is man more pure
Than he who deems even Seraphs insecure?
Creatures of clay—vain dwellers in the dust!
The moth survives you, and are ye more just?
Things of a day! you wither ere the night,
Heedless and blind to Wisdom's wasted light!"
FOOTNOTES:
[287] {381} [In a manuscript note to a letter of Byron's, dated June 11, 1814, Wedderburn Webster writes, "I did take him to Lady Sitwell's party.... He there for the first time saw his cousin, the beautiful Mrs. Wilmot [who had appeared in mourning with numerous spangles in her dress]. When we returned to ... the Albany, he ... desired Fletcher to give him a tumbler of brandy, which he drank at once to Mrs. Wilmot's health.... The next day he wrote some charming lines upon her, 'She walks in beauty,' etc."—Letters, 1899, iii. 92, note 1.
Anne Beatrix, daughter and co-heiress of Eusebius Horton, of Catton Hall, Derbyshire, married Byron's second cousin, Robert John Wilmot (1784-1841), son of Sir Robert Wilmot of Osmaston, by Juliana, second daughter of the Hon. John Byron, and widow of the Hon. William Byron. She died February 4, 1871.
Nathan (Fugitive Pieces, 1829, pp. 2, 3) has a note to the effect that Byron, while arranging the first edition of the Melodies, used to ask for this song, and would not unfrequently join in its execution.]
[le] {382}
The Harp the Minstrel Monarch swept,
The first of men, the loved of Heaven,
Which Music cherished while she wept.—[MS. M.]
[lf] {383} It told the Triumph——.—[MS. M.]
[288] ["When Lord Byron put the copy into my hand, it terminated with this line. This, however, did not complete the verse, and I asked him to help out the melody. He replied, 'Why, I have sent you to Heaven—it would be difficult to go further!' My attention for a few moments was called to some other person, and his Lordship, whom I had hardly missed, exclaimed, 'Here, Nathan, I have brought you down again;' and immediately presented me the beautiful and sublime lines which conclude the melody."—Fugitive Pieces, 1829, p. 33.]
It there abode, and there it rings,
But ne'er on earth its sound shall be;
The prophets' race hath passed away;
And all the hallowed minstrelsy—
From earth the sound and soul are fled,
And shall we never hear again?—[MS. M. erased.]
[289] [According to Nathan, the monosyllable "if" at the beginning of the first line led to "numerous attacks on the noble author's religion, and in some an inference of atheism was drawn."
Needless to add, "in a subsequent conversation," Byron repels this charge, and delivers himself of some admirable if commonplace sentiments on the "grand perhaps."-Fugitive Pieces, 1829, pp. 5, 6.]
[lh] {384} ——breaking link.—[Nathan, 1815, 1829.]
[290] [Compare To Ianthe, stanza iv. lines 1, 2—
"Oh! let that eye, which, wild as the Gazelle's,
Now brightly bold or beautifully shy."
Compare, too, The Giaour, lines 473, 474—
"Her eye's dark charm 'twere vain to tell,
But gaze on that of the Gazelle."
Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 13; et ante, p. 108.]
[291] {387} [Nathan (Fugitive Pieces, 1829, pp. 11, 12) seems to have tried to draw Byron into a discussion on the actual fate of Jephtha's daughter—death at her father's hand, or "perpetual seclusion"—and that Byron had no opinion to offer. "Whatever may be the absolute state of the case, I am innocent of her blood; she has been killed to my hands;" and again, "Well, my hands are not imbrued in her blood!">[
[292] {388} ["In submitting the melody to his Lordship's judgment, I once inquired in what manner they might refer to any scriptural subject: he appeared for a moment affected—at last replied, 'Every mind must make its own references; there is scarcely one of us who could not imagine that the affliction belongs to himself, to me it certainly belongs.' 'She is no more, and perhaps the only vestige of her existence is the feeling I sometimes fondly indulge.'"—Fugitive Pieces, 1829, p. 30. It has been surmised that the lines contain a final reminiscence of the mysterious Thyrza.]
[li] ——in gentle gloom.—[MS. M.]
Shall Sorrow on the waters gaze,
And lost in deep remembrance dream,
As if her footsteps could disturb the dead.—[MS. M.]
[lk] {389} Even thou——.—[MS. M.]
IV.
Nor need I write to tell the tale,
My pen were doubly weak;
Oh what can idle words avail,
Unless my heart could speak?
V.
By day or night, in weal or woe,
That heart no longer free
Must bear the love it cannot show,
And silent turn for thee.—[MS. M.]
[293] [Compare "Nay, now, pry'thee weep no more! you know, ... that 'tis sinful to murmur at ... Providence."—"And should not that reflection check your own, my Blanche?"—"Why are your cheeks so wet? Fie! fie, my child!"—Romantic Tales, by M. G. Lewis, 1808, i. 53.]
[294] [Compare "My soul is dark."—Ossian, "Oina-Morul," The Works of Ossian, 1765, ii. 279.]
[295] {390} ["It was generally conceived that Lord Byron's reported singularities approached on some occasions to derangement; and at one period, indeed, it was very currently asserted that his intellects were actually impaired. The report only served to amuse his Lordship. He referred to the circumstance, and declared that he would try how a Madman could write: seizing the pen with eagerness, he for a moment fixed his eyes in majestic wildness on vacancy; when, like a flash of inspiration, without erasing a single word, the above verses were the result."—Fugitive Pieces, 1829, p. 37.]
[296] [Compare the first Sonnet to Genevra (addressed to Lady Frances Wedderburn Webster), "Thine eye's blue tenderness.">[
[lm] {392}
He stands amidst an earthly cloud,
And the mist mantled o'er his floating shroud.—[MS. erased.]
[ln] At once and scorched beneath——.—[MS. Copy (1, 2).]
[lo] Bloodless are these bones——.—[MS.]
[297] ["Since we have spoken of witches," said Lord Byron at Cephalonia, in 1823, "what think you of the witch of Endor? I have always thought this the finest and most finished witch-scene that ever was written or conceived; and you will be of my opinion, if you consider all the circumstances and the actors in the case, together with the gravity, simplicity, and dignity of the language."—Conversations on Religion with Lord Byron, by James Kennedy, M.D., London, 1830, p. 154.]
[lp] {393} Heed not the carcase that lies in your path.—[MS. Copy (1).]
——my shield and my bow,
Should the ranks of your king look away from the foe.—[MS.]
[lr] {394}
Heir to my monarchy——.—[MS.]
Note to Heir—Jonathan.—[Copy.]
My father was the shepherd's son,
Ah were my lot as lowly
My earthly course had softly run.—[MS.]
[298] {395} [Compare Childe Harold, Canto I. stanza lxxxii. lines 8, 9—
"Full from the fount of Joy's delicious springs
Some bitter o'er the flowers its bubbling venom flings."
Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 73, and note 16, p. 93.]
Ah! what hath been but what shall be,
The same dull scene renewing?
And all our fathers were are we
In erring and undoing.—[MS.]
[lu] When this corroding clay is gone.—[MS. erased.]
[lv] The stars in their eternal way.—[MS. L. erased.]
[lw] {396} A conscious light that can pervade.—[MS. erased.]
[299] {397} [Compare the lines entitled "Belshazzar" (vide post, [p. 421]), and Don Juan, Canto III. stanza lxv.]
[lx] ——in the hall.—[Copy.]
[ly] In Israel——.—[Copy.]
[300] {398} [It was not in his youth, but in extreme old age, that Daniel interpreted the "writing on the wall.">[
[lz] Oh king thy grave——.—[Copy erased.]
[301] {400} [Mariamne, the wife of Herod the Great, falling under the suspicion of infidelity, was put to death by his order. Ever after, Herod was haunted by the image of the murdered Mariamne, until disorder of the mind brought on disorder of body, which led to temporary derangement. See History of the Jews, by H. H. Milman, 1878, pp. 236, 237. See, too, Voltaire's drama, Mariamne, passim.
Nathan, wishing "to be favoured with so many lines pathetic, some playful, others martial, etc.... one evening ... unfortunately (while absorbed for a moment in worldly affairs) requested so many dull lines—meaning plaintive." Byron instantly caught at the expression, and exclaimed, "Well, Nathan! you have at length set me an easy task," and before parting presented him with "these beautifully pathetic lines, saying, 'Here, Nathan, I think you will find these dull enough.'"—Fugitive Pieces, 1829, p. 51.]
And what was rage is agony.—[MS. erased.]
Revenge is turned——.—[MS.]
[mb] And deep Remorse——.—[MS.]
[mc] And what am I thy tyrant pleading.—[MS. erased.]
Thou art not dead—they could not dare
Obey my jealous Frenzy's raving.—[MS.]
[me] But yet in death my soul enslaving.—[MS. erased.]
[mf] {401} Oh I have earned——.—[MS.]
[mg] ——that looks o'er thy once holy dome.—[MS.]
——o'er thy once holy wall
I beheld thee O Sion the day of thy fall.—[MS. erased.]
[mi] And forgot in their ruin——.—[MS. erased.]
[mj] {402}
And the red bolt——.—[MS. erased.]
And the thunderbolt crashed——.—[MS.]
[302] [The following note, in Byron's handwriting, is prefixed to the copy in Lady Byron's handwriting:—
"Dear Kinnaird,—Take only one of these marked 1 and 2 [i.e. 'By the Rivers,' etc.; and 'By the waters,' vide [p. 404]], as both are but different versions of the same thought—leave the choice to any important person you like.
Yours,
B.">[
[303] [Landor, in his "Dialogue between Southey and Porson" (Works, 1846, i. 69), attempted to throw ridicule on the opening lines of this "Melody."
"A prey in 'the hue of his slaughters'! This is very pathetic; but not more so than the thought it suggested to me, which is plainer—
'We sat down and wept by the waters
Of Camus, and thought of the day
When damsels would show their red garters
In their hurry to scamper away.'">[
[mk] {403}
Our mute harps were hung on the willow
That grew by the stream of our foe,
And in sadness we gazed on each billow
That rolled on in freedom below.—[MS, erased.]
On the willow that harp still hangs mutely
Oh Salem its sound was for thee.—[MS. erased.]
[ [304] {405} [Compare—"As leaves in autumn, so the bodies fell." The Barons' Wars, by Michael Drayton, Bk. II. stanza lvii.; Anderson's British Poets, iii. 38.]
[mm] And the foam of his bridle lay cold on the earth.—[MS.]
[mn] ——of the cliff-beating surf.—[MS.]
[mo] With the crow on his breast——.—[MS.]
[mp] And the widows of Babel——.—[MS. erased.]
[mq] And the voices of Israel are joyous and high.—[MS. erased.]