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Page 12. In the concluding phrase of last line, transpose, in reading, the words stream and course.
,, 28. In extract from "Childe Harold," for contracted read contrasted. 32. In Foot-note (4) for Mocenigu read Morcenigo.
33. In line 17, a dash has been omitted before the words "the
37. In the third Foot-note, the reference number (1) has been omitted.
50, In line 12, for time read crime.
62. In fourteenth line from foot, for Monte read Monti.
69. In eighth line from foot, for exampes road examples.
71. In fifteenth line from foot, for virgins read the virgins.
77. In seventeenth line from foot, at the end of the line, the final f has been omitted from infrequent.
N.B.-The small figures above the words in the text indicate foot-notes ; the larger figures refer to notes at the end, preceding the Appendix.
BIRTH AND CHILDHOOD OF LORD BYRON.
George Byron (1) was born in London (), January 22nd, 1788, of a race illustrious by ancestry, but decayed in fortune (1). Have we to tell you of his boyhood? Obstinate, moody in temper, an obdurate enemy, adverse at first to study, then devoted to books (especially history,) at play eager, passionately fond of the beauties of nature-and, in particular of the sublime scenery of Scotland, where his mother left him, that in a keen air and with hardy exercise he might invigorate a feeble body-such was young Byron.
An uncle meanwhile died, and George, at ten years of ago, found himself master and lord at Newstoad Abbey. There, with a renowned title came those things, its concomitants, domestics, scholastic fame, the appellation of "my lord ;" and he demanded of his mother, "Have you discovered in me any difference since I have become a lord, for really I do not myself perceive it." young peer took up his abode at Newstead (2), in Nottinghamshire, 136 miles from London, altogether without a care. And there, in idle tranquillity, he grew to youth under the mouldering tapestries of the old abbey; amid boyish passions, at one time sad, at another gay, tho' why he knew not-passing in a moment from merriment to grief, from idleness to the most vigorous exercises. Dogs, horses, hunting and coursing, swimming, boxing, wrestling, and fencing, such were the occupations of the youthful peer.
Peel, who afterwards took so great a part in public affairs, was one day beaten with great cruelty by a bigger boy. Byron accosted the tyrant with indignation. The baptismal names of Lord Byron were George Gordon Noel, "Moore."-(It is believed in Holles street. Ed.) "Mr. Dallas says "Dover." B
"How much more do you intend giving him?" "What is that to you, you little rascal?" answered the other. "Because," replied Byron, "if you like, I will take half for him." Another schoolfellow, deformed in body, was subjected to derision and worse. "Harness," said Lord Byron, "if any one illtreats you, let me know, and I will thrash him if I can." And he kept his word. Boyish traits these, perhaps, but which, just because they are unnoticed by tutors, may become the germs of great actions.
HIS FIRST POEMS.
The poetic fire was meanwhile developed in him, nor could be long undiscovered. At college, where he attended classes, his companions and masters perceived in the youth something extraordinary, and he himself felt born to fame. Seized with fits of deep melancholy, averse to any intercourse with his fellows, he would often seat himself on a tombstone in Harrow churchyard, and this his comrades called "Byron's Tomb." Here he wrote,
"My epitaph (1), shall be my name alone."
Thus at 15 he wrote. Yet a little while, and, unable to restrain his boyish impatience, he gave to the world his first stanzas, "Hours of Idleness." Look not there for the great poet Childe Harold, but it would denote a want of perception of the beautiful, not to discover how great was the promise of these poems, some lines of which, as a sample and a picture of his youth, we cite. None, however, but the mountaineer by birth, or one whose first recollections and affections are thus associated, will enjoy their beauty.
When I roved a young Highlander, o'er the dark heath,
To gaze on the torrent that thunder'd beneath,
Or the mist of the tempest that gather'd below;
Untutor'd by science, a stranger to fear,
And rude as the rocks where my infancy grew,
Need I say, my sweet Mary, t'was centred in you, &c. &c.
(1) An Ossianic expression-Morven is a mountain in Aberdeenshire.
These poems he published with the confident boldness of a youth who looks for applause, or at least encouragement. Have you never experienced how bitter it is to receive instead censure and ridicule? This grief was Lord Byron's. The Edinburgh Review, which, in its exemption from the routine of ordinary minds, instead of there discerning the beams of a bright intellect, discovered only the ravings of a degraded fancy, with impertinent irony tears to pieces these youthful poems, dissects them, analyses them with eye of lynx and heart of stone-treats the peer of England no otherwise than as a lad escaped from school, and of the future bard attempts to clip the wings.
"The poesy of this young Lord," says the Review, (1) "belongs to the class which neither men nor Gods are said to permit. Indeed we do not recollect to have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction from that exact standard. His effusions are spread over a dead flat, and can no more get above or below the level than if they were so much stagnant water. As an extenuation of this offence, the noble author is peculiarly forward in pleading minority
"But alas, we all remember the poetry of Cowley at ten, and Pope at twelve; and so far from hearing, with any degree of surprise, that very poor verses were written by a youth from his leaving school to his leaving college inclusive, we really believe this to be the most common of all occurrences; that it happens in the life of nine men in ten who are educated in England, and that the tenth man writes better verse than Lord Byron. Oh! such a moment is for a youth the crisis of his life. Doubt it not. If under the torture of his Movii (3), he succumbs, then adieu fame, adieu to study; he will abandon himself to idleness, to an indolent silence, useless if not noxious, to himself and others. Happy he who has sufficient strength of mind to acquire greater powers from opposition and the impulse to do better.
Long afterwards, Lord Byron said: "I recollect the effect on me of the Edinburgh on my first poem. It was rage and resistance and redress-but not despondency (1) Edinburgh Review of January, 1808.