' of such a step, and, on the other, dreading that I shall 'lose both you and myself, and all that I have ever 'known or tasted of happiness, by never seeing you ' more. I pray of you, I implore you to be comforted, ' and to believe that I cannot cease to love you but 'with my life*.' In another part he says, 'I go to

save you, and leave a country insupportable to me 'without you. Your letters to F ** and myself do wrong to my motives-but you will yet see your injustice. It is not enough that I must leave you— 'from motives of which ere long you will be convinced '—it is not enough that I must fly from Italy, with a 'heart deeply wounded, after having passed all my days in solitude since your departure, sick both in body and mind-but I must also have to endure your ' reproaches without answering and without deserving 'them. Farewell!-in that one word is comprised 'the death of my happiness.'

He had now arranged everything for his departure for England, and had even fixed the day, when ac

*Tu sei, e sarai sempre mio primo pensier. Ma in questo momento sono in un' stato orribile non sapendo cosa decidere ;-temendo, da una parte, comprometterti in eterno col mio ritorno a Ravenna, e colle sue consequenze; e, dal' altra perderti, e me stesso, e tutto quel che ho conosciuto o gustato di felicità, nel non vederti più. Ti prego, ti supplico calmarti, e credere che non posso cessare ad amarti che colla 'vita.'

Io parto, per salvarti, e lascio un paese divenuto insopportabile 'senza di te. Le tue lettere alla F**, ed anche a me stesso fanno torto ' ai miei motivi; ma col tempo vedrai la tua ingiustizia. Tu parli del 'dolor-io lo sento, ma mi mancano le parole. Non basta lasciarti per 'dei motivi dei quali tu eri persuasa (non molto tempo fa)-non basta partire dall' Italia col cuore lacerato, dopo aver passato tutti i giorni dopo la tua partenza nella solitudine, ammalato di corpo e di animama ho anche a sopportare i tuoi rimproveri, senza replicarti, e senza meritarli. Addio in quella parola è compresa la morte di mia

felicita.'

The close of this last sentence exhibits one of the very few instances of incorrectness that Lord Byron falls into in these letters;-the proper construction being 'della mia felicità.'

counts reached him from Ravenna that the Contessa was alarmingly ill;-her sorrow at their separation having so much preyed upon her mind, that even her own family, fearful of the consequences, had withdrawn all opposition to her wishes, and now, with the sanction of Count Guiccioli himself, entreated her lover to hasten to Ravenna. What was he, in this dilemma, to do? Already had he announced his coming to different friends in England, and every dictate, he felt, of prudence and manly fortitude urged his departure. While thus balancing between duty and inclination, the day appointed for his setting out arrived; and the following picture, from the life, of his irresolution on the occasion, is from a letter written by a female friend of Madame Guiccioli, who was present at the scene. He was ready dressed for 'the journey, his gloves and cap on, and even his little cane in his hand. Nothing was now waited for but his coming down stairs,-his boxes being already all on board the gondola. At this moment, my lord, by way of pretext, declares, that if it 'should strike one o'clock before every thing was in order (his arms being the only thing not yet quite 'ready), he would not go that day. The hour strikes, ' and he remains *!'

The writer adds, it is evident he has not the heart to go;' and the result proved that she had not judged him wrongly. The very next day's tidings from Ravenna decided his fate, and he himself, in a letter to

*Egli era tutto vestito di viaggio coi guanti fra le mani, col suo bonnet, e persino colla piccola sua canna; non altro aspettavasi che egli scendesse le scale, tutti i bauli erano in barca. Milord fa la pre'testa che se suona un ora dopo il mezzodi e che non sia ogni cosa all' 'ordine (poichè le armi sole non erano in pronto) egli non partirebbe 'più per quel giorno. L'ora suona ed egli resta.'

the Contessa, thus announces the triumph which she had achieved. F*** will already have told you, 'with her accustomed sublimity, that Love has gained 'the victory. I could not summon up resolution enough to leave the country where you are, without, at least, once more seeing you. On yourself, perhaps, it will depend, whether I ever again shall leave you. Of the rest we shall speak when we meet. 'You ought, by this time, to know which is most con'ducive to your welfare, my presence or my absence. For myself, I am a citizen of the world-all countries are alike to me. You have ever been, since our first acquaintance, the sole object of my thoughts. My opinion was, that the best course I could adopt, both 'for your peace and that of all your family, would have 'been to depart and go far, far away from you;-since 'to have been near and not approach you would have 'been, for me, impossible. You have however de'cided that I am to return to Vienna. I shall accordingly return-and shall do—and be all that you wish. 'I cannot say more *."

6

On quitting Venice he took leave of Mr. Hoppner in a short but cordial letter, which I cannot better introduce than by prefixing to it the few words of comment with which this excellent friend of the noble poet has himself accompanied it. I need not say with

*

La F ti avra detta, colla sua solita sublimità, che l'Amor ha 'vinto. Io non ho potuto trovare forza di anima per lasciare il paese 'dove tu sei, senza vederti almeno un'altra volta:-forse dipenderà da 'te se mai ti lascio più. Per il resto parleremo. Tu dovresti adesso sapere cosa sarà più convenevole al tuo ben essere la mia presenza o la mia lontananza. Io sono cittadino del mondo-tutti i paesi sono eguali per me. Tu sei stata sempre (dopo che ci siamo conosciuti) l'unico oggetto di miei pensieri. Credeva che il miglior partito per la pace 'tua e la pace di tua famiglia fosse il mio partire, e andare ben lontano; poichè stare vicino e non avvicinarti sarebbe per me impossibile. Ma tu hai deciso che io debbo ritornare a Ravenna-tornaro-e farò-e sarò ciò che tu vuoi. Non posso dirti di più.'

'what painful feeling I witnessed the departure of a person who, from the first day of our acquaintance, had treated me with unvaried kindness, reposing a 'confidence in me which it was beyond the power of my utmost efforts to deserve; admitting me to an intimacy which I had no right to claim, and listening 'with patience, and the greatest good temper, to the ' remonstrances I ventured to make upon his conduct.'

LETTER 349.

'My dear Hoppner,

TO MR. HOPPNER.

Partings are but bitter work at best, so that I 'shall not venture on a second with you. Pray make my respects to Mrs. Hoppner, and assure her of my 'unalterable reverence for the singular goodness of 'her disposition, which is not without its reward even ' in this world-for those who are no great believers in human virtues would discover enough in her to give them a better opinion of their fellow-creatures and-what is still more difficult-of themselves, as being of the same species, however inferior in approaching its nobler models. Make, too, what excuses you can for my omission of the ceremony of 'leave-taking. If we all meet again, I will make my 'humblest apology; if not, recollect that I wished you 'all well; and, if you can, forget that I have given you a great deal of trouble. Yours, &c. &c.'

Venice, December 10th, 1819.

Since I last wrote, I have changed my mind, and ⚫ shall not come to England. The more I contemplate, the more I dislike the place and the prospect. You may therefore address to me as usual here, though I

mean to go to another city. I have finished the Third Canto of Don Juan, but the things I have read ' and heard discourage all further publication-at least for the present. You may try the copy question, but 'you'll lose it: the cry is up, and cant is up. I should 'have no objection to return the price of the copyright, ' and have written to Mr. Kinnaird by this post on the 'subject. Talk with him.

'I have not the patience, nor do I feel interest 'enough in the question, to contend with the fellows ' in their own slang; but I perceive Mr. Blackwood's Magazine and one or two others of your missives have 'been hyperbolical in their praise, and diabolical in their abuse. I like and admire W**n, and he 'should not have indulged himself in such outrageous licence. It is overdone and defeats itself. What 'would he say to the grossness without passion and 'the misanthropy without feeling of Gulliver's Tra'vels?-When he talks of Lady Byron's business, he 'talks of what he knows nothing about; and you may 'tell him that no one can more desire a public investi'gation of that affair than I do.

'I sent home by Moore (for Moore only, who has 'my Journal also) my Memoir written up to 1816, and 'I gave him leave to show it to whom he pleased, but 'not to publish, on any account. You may read it, and you may let W**n read it, if he likes-not for his 'public opinion, but his private; for I like the man, and care very little about his magazine. And I

*This is one of the many mistakes into which his distance from the scene of literary operations led him. The gentleman, to whom the hostile article in the Magazine is here attributed, has never, either then or since, written upon the subject of the noble poet's character or genius, without giving vent to a feeling of admiration as enthusiastic as it is always eloquently and powerfully expressed.