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comparison with yours; the friends of liberty, the philanthropists, the philosophers of all nations, and especially of the enlightened and generous English nation, congratulate you, and from afar rejoice with you; all animate you; and the poet of our age, already crowned with immortality, emulous of your glory, came personally to your shores, that he might, together with yourselves, wash out with his blood the marks of tyranny from our polluted soil.

Born in the great capital of England,* his descent noble, on the side of both his father and his mother, what unfeigned joy did his philhellenick heart feel, when our poor city, in token of our gratitude, inscribed his name among the number of her citizens! In the agonies of death; yes, at the moment when eternity appeared before him ; as he was lingering on the brink of mortal and immortal life; when all the material world appeared but as a speck in the great works of Divine Omnipotence; in that awful hour, but two names dwelt upon the lips of this illustrious individual, leaving all the world besides-the names of his only and much beloved daughter, and of Greece these two names, deeply engraven on his heart, even the moment of death could not efface. 66 My daughter!" he said; "Greece!" he exclaimed; and his spirit passed away. What Grecian heart will not be deeply affected as often as it recalls this moment!

Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very grateful to his shade, for they are the tears of sincere affection; but much more grateful will be our deeds in the cause of our country, which, though removed from us, he will observe from the heavens, of which his virtues have doubtless

*This translation is by a Greek at Messolonghi, from the original modern Greek Gazette. No alterations have been made, though a few suggest themselves; one of which is, that Lord Byron was not born in London.

opened to him the gates. This return alone does he require from us for all his munificence; this reward for his love towards us; this consolation for his sufferings in our cause; and this inheritance for the loss of his invaluable life. When your exertions, my friends, shall have liberated us from the hands which have so long held us down in chains; from the hands which have torn from our arms our property, our brothers, our children; then will his spirit rejoice, then will his shade be satisfied!—Yes, in that blessed hour of our freedom, the Archbishop will extend his sacred and free hand, and pronounce a blessing over his venerated tomb; the young warrior sheathing his sword, red with the blood of his tyrannical oppressors, will strew it with laurel; the statesman will consecrate it with his oratory; and the poet, resting upon the marble, will become doubly inspired; the virgins of Greece, (whose beauty our illustrious fellow-citizen Byron has celebrated in many of his poems,) without any longer fearing contamination from the rapacious hands of our oppressors, crowning their heads with garlands, will dance round it, and sing of the beauty of our land, which the poet of our age has already commemorated with such grace and truth. But what sorrowful thought now presses upon my mind! My fancy has carried me away; I had pictured to myself all that my heart could have desired; I had imagined the blessing of our bishops, the hymns, and laurel crowns, and the dance of the virgins of Greece, round the tomb of the benefactor of Greece ;-but this tomb will not contain his precious remains; the tomb will remain void; but a few days more will his body remain on the face of our land-of his new chosen country; it cannot be given over to our arms; it must be borne to his own native land, which is honoured by his birth.

Oh, Daughter! most dearly beloved by him, your arms

will receive him; your tears will bathe the tomb which shall contain his body;-and the tears of the orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn containing his precious heart, and over all the land of Greece, for all the land of Greece is his tomb. As in the last moment of his life you and Greece were alone in his heart and upon his lips, it was but just that she (Greece) should retain a share of the precious remains. Missolonghi, his country, will ever watch over and protect with all her strength the urn containing his venerated heart, as a symbol of his love towards us. All Greece, clothed in mourning and inconsolable, accompanies the procession in which it is borne; all ecclesiastical, civil and military honours attend it; all his fellow-citizens of Missolonghi and fellow-countrymen of Greece follow it, crowning it with their gratitude and bedewing it with their tears; it is blessed by the pious benedictions and prayers of our Archbishop, Bishop, and all our Clergy. Learn, noble Lady, learn that chieftains bore it on their shoulders, and carried it to the church; thousands of Greek soldiers lined the way through which it passed, with the muzzles of their muskets, which had destroyed so many tyrants, pointed towards the ground, as though they would war against that earth which was to deprive them for ever of the sight of their benefactor ;-all this crowd of soldiers, ready at a moment to march against the implacable enemy of Christ and man, surrounded the funeral couch, and swore never to forget the sacrifices made by your father for us, and never to allow the spot where his heart is placed to be trampled upon by barbarous and tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian voices were in a moment heard, and the temple of the Almighty resounded with supplications and prayers that his venerated remains might be safely conveyed to his native land, and that his soul might rest where the righteous alone find



From a Greek Journpl.

Ὠδὴ εἰς τὸν λόρδ Βύρωνα.

Τούς λαμπρούς ὕμνους τῆς νίκης ἀφίνων.
Κλαυθμῶν ἠχεῖ ἡρώων ὁ στρατός
Πικρῶς λυποῦντ' αἱ ψυχαὶ τῶν ἑλλήνων.
Τ' ἀκούει μακρόθεν καὶ χαίρ' ἐχθρός.

Ὁ φίλος ἦλθε, πλήν μόλις τὸν εἶδον,
Σκᾶπτουν κλαίοντες τὸν τὰφον αὐτοῦ.
Ιδού τό τέλος ἐνδόξων ἐλπίδων
Καὶ τὸ τρόπαιον θανάτου σκληροῦ.

̔Ηλθε νά ἔμπνευσ ̓ ὡς ἄλλος Τυρταῖος,
Εἰς κάθε στῆθος πολέμων ὁρμῆν
Πλήν φευ! ὁ Βαρδος ἐλπίσας ματαίως
Ἰδοὺ μένει εἰς αἰώνιον σιωπήν.

Ως δένδρον κεῖς ̓ ὁπ' ἐκόσμει μεγάλως
Τήν κορυφήν μουσικοῦ Παρνασσοῦ,
Νῦν προποδῶν φθείρουσάτου τό κάλλος
Πνοή τὸ ἔξξιψ ̓ ἀνέμου σφοδροῦ.

Ελλάς! ἐάν τό σῶματ ̓ ἡ 'Αγγλία
Νὰ φέρ' εἰς μνῆμα ζητᾶ πατρικὸν
Εἶπέ Μουσῶν ὦ μητέρα γλυκεῖα,
Εἶναι τέκνον μοῦ υιός τῶν Μουσῶν.

Καταφρονῶν τῶν ἐρώτων τούς θρήνους
Ἠδονῆς μήν ἀκούων τήν φωνήν,
Ἑζήτ ̓ ἐδὼ ἡρώων τούς κινδύνους
Τάφον ἄς ἔχ ̓ ἡρώων εἰς τήν γῆν.



Victorious hymns no longer court the ear;

The hosts of Greece the clouds of grief oppress;
The hardy warrior drops th' unwonted tear,
And distant foes exult at our distress.

He came to succour-but, alas! how soon
With him the light of all our prospects fled!
Our sun has sought the darkness of the tomb,
For Byron, friend of liberty, is dead?

A new Tyrtæus gladden'd all our land,
Inspiring ev'ry soul with ancient fire;
But now, alas! death chills his friendly hand,
And endless silence sits upon his lyre.

So some fair tree, which waved its shady head,
And graced the heights where famed Parnassus join'd,
Is torn by tempests from its earthy bed,

And yields its beauties scatter'd to the wind.

Oh, Greece! should England claim her right to lay
His ashes where his valiant sires have lain,
Do thou, sweet mother of the Muses, say

That thou alone those ashes shouldst retain.

Domestic joy he nobly sacrificed;

To shun the path of pleasure was his doom-These for heroic dangers he despised;

Then Greece, the land of heroes, be his tomb ?


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