“Ever since that martial synod met,
Brittannia sickens, Cintra, at thy name.”[172]
This patriotic mood seems, however, to have been a passing one. In after years he was not inclined to take the part of his country. Of a different sort are the stanzas on a London Sunday[173] which, in Moore’s opinion, disfigure the poem. Canto I has also some satiric animadversions upon women, notably the lines,
“Maidens, like moths, are ever caught by glare,
And Mammon wins his way where Seraphs might despair.”[174]
In the final version of the first two cantos some stanzas of a satiric tone were omitted, among them lines on Frere, Carr, and Wellesley in Canto I, and passages on Elgin, Hope, Gell, and the “gentle Dilettanti” in Canto II.
A few ephemeral verses of this period still remain unnoticed: an occasional epistle in rhyme to Moore or Murray; four brief squibs on Lord Thurlow’s poetry; and several unimportant epigrams on trivial subjects. No one of them is significant as literature, and they may well be passed by without comment.
In a last glance at Byron’s satiric production from 1811 to 1818 we perceive that, with the single exception of Hints from Horace, an avowed imitation, his work was directed towards definite ends. He was little given to vague denunciation; on the contrary, in touch as he was with current events and a keen observer of what was going on around him, he aimed, in his satire, at specific evils and follies. It is interesting, too, that most of his work after his return from abroad was journalistic and transitory, hastily conceived and carelessly composed. At the same time there are signs of a change in spirit. Though he still continues to burst out into invective on provocation, he is beginning to recognize the value of humor and mockery. More and more he is employing new metrical forms, and neglecting the heroic couplet for freer and more varied measures.
When Byron left England in 1816, he had been taught much by experience and had acquired some maturity of judgment. To some extent, though not entirely, he had outgrown the affectation and morbid pessimism of his boyhood. In a stern school he had learned many lessons, and, as a result, his satire from the time of his voluntary exile until his death displays a different spirit. When at last he discovered an artistic form and style in which to embody it, it showed a decided gain in merit and originality over English Bards, which, in 1817, was still the best satire he had written.