The Works of Lord Byron Complete in One Volume

For ever and anon she threw
A prying, pitying glance on me
With her black eyes so wild and free:
I gazed, and gazed, until I knew
No vision it could be,-

But that I lived, and was released
From adding to the vulture's feast:
And when the Cossack-maid beheld
My heavy eyes at length unseal'd,
She smiled and I essay'd to speak,
But fail'd-and she approach'd, and made
With lip and finger signs that said,
I must not strive as yet to break
The silence, till my strength should be
Enough to leave my accents free;
And then her hand on mine she laid,
And smooth'd the pillow for my head,
And stole along on tiptoe tread,
And gently oped the door, and spake
In whispers - ne'er was voice so sweet!
Even music follow'd her light feet! -
But those she call'd were not awake,
And she went forth; but, ere she pass'd,
Another look on me she cast,
Another sign she made, to say,
That I had nought to fear, that all
Were near, at my command or call,
And she would not delay

Her due return; - while she was gone
Methought I felt too much alone.

"She came with mother and with sire-
What need of more ?-I will not tire
With long recital of the rest,
Since I became the Cossack's guest:
They found me senseless on the plain-
They bore me to the nearest hut-
They brought me into life again—
Me-one day o'er their realm to reign!
Thus the vain fool who strove to glut
His rage, refining on my pain,
Sent me forth to the wilderness,
Bound, naked, bleeding, and alone,
To pass the desert to a throne.—
What mortal his own doom may guess?
Let none despond, let none despair!
To-morrow the Borysthenes

May see our coursers graze at ease
Upon his Turkish bank,- and never
Had I such welcome for a river
As I shall yield when safely there.
Comrades, good night! "—The Hetman threw
His length beneath the oak-tree-shade,
With leafy couch already made,

A bed nor comfortless nor new

To him who took his rest whene'er
The hour arrived, no matter where:-
His eyes the hastening slumbers steep.
And if ye marvel Charles forgot
To thank his tale, he wonder'd not,
The king had been an hour asleep.

ВЕРРО,

A VENETIAN STORY.

ROSALIND. Farewell, Monsieur Traveller: Look, you lisp, and wear strange suits; disable all the benefits of your own country; be out of love with your Nativity, and almost chide God for making you that countenance you are; or I will scarce think that you have swam in a GONDOLA.

AS YOU LIKE IT, Act. IV. Sc. I.

Annotation of the Commentators.

That is, been at Venice, which was much visited by the young English gentlemen of those times, and was then what Paris is now-the seat of all dissoluteness.

"Tis known, at least is should be, that | The moment night with dusky mantle

And there are dresses splendid, but fantast- | And therefore humbly I would recommend "The curious in fish-sauce," before they

ical, Masks of all times and nations, Turks and Jews, And harlequins and clowns, with feats gymnastical,

Greeks, Romans, Yankee - doodles, and Hindoos;

All kinds of dress, except the ecclesiastical, All people, as their fancies hit, may choose, But no one in these parts may quiz the clergy,

Therefore take heed, ye Freethinkers! I charge ye.

You'd better walk about begirt with briars, Instead of coat and smallclothes, than put on A single stitch reflecting upon friars, Although you swore it only was in fun; They'd haul you o'er the coals, and stir

the fires

coarse,

Of Phlegethon with every mother's son,
Nor say one mass to cool the cauldron's But that's the penalty, to say no worse.

A thing that you would purchase, beg, or Which smothers women in a bed of feather, But worthier of these much more jolly fellows;

steal,

Wer't not impossible, besides a shame: The face recals some face, as 'twere with

pain, You once have seen, but ne'er will see again;

She was a married woman; 'tis convenient, And could not sleep with ease alone at
Because in Christian countries 'tis a rule
To view their little slips with eyes more
lenient;

Whereas if single ladics play the fool, (Unless, within the period intervenient, A well-timed wedding makes the scandal cool)

I don't know how they ever can get over it, Except they manage never to discover it.

Her husband sail'd upon the Adriatic,
And made some voyages, too, in other seas,
And when he lay in quarantine for pratique
(A forty days' precaution 'gainst disease).
His wife would mount, at times, her highest

attic.

For thence she could discern the ship with

ease:

He was a merchant trading to Aleppo, His name Giuseppe, call'd, more briefly, Верро.

He was a man as dusky as a Spaniard,
Sunburnt with travel, yet a portly figure;
Though, colour'd, as it were, within a
tanyard,

He was a person both of sense and vigour
A better seaman never yet did man yard:
And she, although her manners show'd no
rigour,

Was deem'd a woman of the strictest principle,

So much as to be thought almost invincible.

But several years elapsed since they had met, Some people thought the ship was lost,

and some That he had somehow blunder'd into debt, And did not like the thoughts of steering home;

And there were several offer'd any bet,
Or that he would, or that he would not come,
For most men (till by losing render'd sager)
Will back their own opinions with a wager.

Tis said that their last parting was pathetic,
As partings often are, or ought to be,
And their presentiment was quite prophetic
That they should never more each other see,
(A sort of morbid feeling, half poetic,
Which I have known occur in two or three)
When kneeling on the shore upon her sad
knee,

He left this Adriatic Ariadne.

And Laura waited long, and wept a little, And thought of wearing weeds, as well she might;

She almost lost all appetite for victual,

night; She deem'd the window-frames and shutters brittle

Against a daring house-breaker or sprite, And so she thought it prudent to connect her With a vice-husband, chiefly to protect her.

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His heart was one of those which most | But "Cavalier Servente" is the phrase

enamour us,

Wax to receive, and marble to retain.
He was a lover of the good old school,
Who still become more constant as they cool.

No wonder such accomplishments should

turn

A female head, however sage and steady --
With scarce a hope that Beppo could return,
In law he was almost as good as dead, he
Nor sent, nor wrote, nor show'd the least

concern,

And she had waited several years already,
And really if a man won't let us know
That he's alive, he's dead, or should be so.

Besides, within the Alps, to every woman
(Although, God knows, it is a grievous sin,)
Tis, I may say, permitted to have two men
I can't tell who first brought the custom in;
But "Cavalier Serventes" are quite common,
And no one notices, nor cares a pin;
And we may call this (not to say the worst)
A second marriage which corrupts the first.

Used in politest circles to express
This supernumerary slave, who stays
Close to the lady as a part of dress,
Her word the only law which he obeys.
His is no sinecure, as you may guess;
Coach, servants, gondola, he goes to call,
And carries fan, and tippet, gloves, and
shawl.

With all its sinful doings, I must say,
That Italy's a pleasant place to me,
Who love to see the Sun shine every day,
And vines (not nail'd to walls) from tree

to tree

Festoon'd, much like the back-scene of a
play,

Or melodrame, which people flock to see,
When the first act is ended by a dance
In vineyards copied from the south of
;
France.

I like on Autumn-evenings to ride out,
Without being forced to bid my groom be

sure

My cloak is round his middle strapp'd about, The word was formerly a "Cicisbeo," Because the skies are not the most secure ; But that is now grown vulgar and indecent; I know too that, if stopp'd upon my route, The Spaniards call the person a "Coriejo," | Where the green alleys windingly allure, For the same mode subsists in Spain, though Reeling with grapes red waggons choke recent ; the way

In short it reaches from the Po to Teio,
And may perhaps at last be o'er the sea sent.
But Heaven preserve Old England from
such courses!

Or what becomes of damage and divorces?

However, I still think, with all due deference
To the fair single part of the Creation,
That married ladies should preserve the
preference

In tête-à-téte or general conversation-
And this I say without peculiar reference
To England, France, or any other nation
Because they know the world, and are at ease,
And being natural, naturally please.

'Tis true, your budding Miss is very
charming,

But shy and awkward at first coming out,
So much alarm'd, that she is quite alarming,
All Giggle, Blush ;-half Pertness, and half
Pout;

And glancing at Mamma, for fear there's
harm in

What you, she, it, or they, may be about,
The Nursery still lisps out in all they

utter

Besides, they always smell of bread and butter.

In England 'twould be dung, dust, or a dray.

I also like to dine on beccaficas,
To see the Sunset, sure he'll rise to-morrow,
Not through a misty morning twinkling
weak as

A drunken man's dead eye in maudlin

sorrow,

But with all heaven t'himself; that day
will break as
Beauteous as cloudless, nor be forced to
borrow

That sort of farthing-candlelight which
glimmers
Where reeking London's smoky cauldron
simmers.

I love the language, that soft bastard Latin,
Which melts like kisses from a female
mouth,

And sounds as if it should be writ on satin,
With syllables which breathe of the sweet
South,

And gentle liquids gliding all so pat in,
That not a single accent seems uncouth,
Like our harsh northern whistling, grunt-
ing guttural,
Which we're obliged to hiss, and spit, and
sputter all.

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