The Works of Lord Byron Volume III Part 74

FRIEND.

_January 22nd_, 1816.

ADVERTIs.e.m.e.nT

"The grand army of the Turks (in 1715), under the Prime Vizier, to open to themselves a way into the heart of the Morea, and to form the siege of Napoli di Romania, the most considerable place in all that country,[331] thought it best in the first place to attack Corinth, upon which they made several storms. The garrison being weakened, and the governor seeing it was impossible to hold out such a place against so mighty a force, thought it fit to beat a parley: but while they were treating about the articles, one of the magazines in the Turkish camp, wherein they had six hundred barrels of powder, blew up by accident, whereby six or seven hundred men were killed; which so enraged the infidels, that they would not grant any capitulation, but stormed the place with so much fury, that they took it, and put most of the garrison, with Signior Minotti, the governor, to the sword. The rest, with Signior or Antonio Bembo, Proveditor Extraordinary, were made prisoners of war."--_A Compleat History of the Turks_ [London, 1719], iii. 151.

NOTE ON THE MS. OF _THE SIEGE OF CORINTH_.

The original MS. of the _Siege of Corinth_ (now in the possession of Lord Glenesk) consists of sixteen folio and nine quarto sheets, and numbers fifty pages. Sheets 1-4 are folios, sheets 5-10 are quartos, sheets 11-22 are folios, and sheets 23-25 are quartos.

To judge from the occasional and disconnected pagination, this MS.

consists of portions of two or more fair copies of a number of detached sc.r.a.ps written at different times, together with two or three of the original sc.r.a.ps which had not been transcribed.

The water-mark of the folios is, with one exception (No. 8, 1815), 1813; and of the quartos, with one exception (No. 8, 1814), 1812.

Lord Glenesk's MS. is dated January 31, 1815. Lady Byron's transcript, from which the _Siege of Corinth_ was printed, and which is in Mr.

Murray's possession, is dated November 2, 1815.

THE SIEGE OF CORINTH

In the year since Jesus died for men,[332]

Eighteen hundred years and ten,[333]

We were a gallant company, Riding o'er land, and sailing o'er sea.

Oh! but we went merrily![334]

We forded the river, and clomb the high hill, Never our steeds for a day stood still; Whether we lay in the cave or the shed, Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed; Whether we couched in our rough capote,[335] 10 On the rougher plank of our gliding boat, Or stretched on the beach, or our saddles spread, As a pillow beneath the resting head, Fresh we woke upon the morrow: All our thoughts and words had scope, We had health, and we had hope, Toil and travel, but no sorrow.

We were of all tongues and creeds;-- Some were those who counted beads, Some of mosque, and some of church, 20 And some, or I mis-say, of neither; Yet through the wide world might ye search, Nor find a motlier crew nor blither.

But some are dead, and some are gone, And some are scattered and alone, And some are rebels on the hills[336]

That look along Epirus' valleys, Where Freedom still at moments rallies, And pays in blood Oppression's ills; And some are in a far countree, 30 And some all restlessly at home; But never more, oh! never, we Shall meet to revel and to roam.

But those hardy days flew cheerily![nz]

And when they now fall drearily, My thoughts, like swallows, skim the main,[337]

And bear my spirit back again Over the earth, and through the air, A wild bird and a wanderer.

'Tis this that ever wakes my strain, 40 And oft, too oft, implores again The few who may endure my lay,[oa]

To follow me so far away.

Stranger, wilt thou follow now, And sit with me on Acro-Corinth's brow?

I.[338]

Many a vanished year and age,[ob]

And Tempest's breath, and Battle's rage, Have swept o'er Corinth; yet she stands, A fortress formed to Freedom's hands.[oc]

The Whirlwind's wrath, the Earthquake's shock, 50 Have left untouched her h.o.a.ry rock, The keystone of a land, which still, Though fall'n, looks proudly on that hill, The landmark to the double tide That purpling rolls on either side, As if their waters chafed to meet, Yet pause and crouch beneath her feet.

But could the blood before her shed Since first Timoleon's brother bled,[339]

Or baffled Persia's despot fled, 60 Arise from out the Earth which drank The stream of Slaughter as it sank, That sanguine Ocean would o'erflow Her isthmus idly spread below: Or could the bones of all the slain,[od]

Who perished there, be piled again, That rival pyramid would rise More mountain-like, through those clear skies[oe]

Than yon tower-capp'd Acropolis, Which seems the very clouds to kiss. 70

II.

On dun Cithaeron's ridge appears The gleam of twice ten thousand spears; And downward to the Isthmian plain, From sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e of either main,[of]

The tent is pitched, the Crescent s.h.i.+nes Along the Moslem's leaguering lines; And the dusk Spahi's bands[340] advance Beneath each bearded Pacha's glance; And far and wide as eye can reach[og]

The turbaned cohorts throng the beach; 80 And there the Arab's camel kneels, And there his steed the Tartar wheels; The Turcoman hath left his herd,[341]

The sabre round his loins to gird; And there the volleying thunders pour, Till waves grow smoother to the roar.

The trench is dug, the cannon's breath Wings the far hissing globe of death;[342]

Fast whirl the fragments from the wall, Which crumbles with the ponderous ball; 90 And from that wall the foe replies, O'er dusty plain and smoky skies, With fares that answer fast and well The summons of the Infidel.

III.

But near and nearest to the wall Of those who wish and work its fall, With deeper skill in War's black art, Than Othman's sons, and high of heart As any Chief that ever stood Triumphant in the fields of blood; 100 From post to post, and deed to deed, Fast spurring on his reeking steed, Where sallying ranks the trench a.s.sail, And make the foremost Moslem quail; Or where the battery, guarded well, Remains as yet impregnable, Alighting cheerly to inspire The soldier slackening in his fire; The first and freshest of the host Which Stamboul's Sultan there can boast, 110 To guide the follower o'er the field, To point the tube, the lance to wield, Or whirl around the bickering blade;-- Was Alp, the Adrian renegade![343]

IV.

From Venice--once a race of worth His gentle Sires--he drew his birth; But late an exile from her sh.o.r.e,[oh]

Against his countrymen he bore The arms they taught to bear; and now The turban girt his shaven brow. 120 Through many a change had Corinth pa.s.sed With Greece to Venice' rule at last; And here, before her walls, with those To Greece and Venice equal foes, He stood a foe, with all the zeal Which young and fiery converts feel, Within whose heated bosom throngs The memory of a thousand wrongs.

To him had Venice ceased to be Her ancient civic boast--"the Free;" 130 And in the palace of St. Mark Unnamed accusers in the dark Within the "Lion's mouth" had placed A charge against him uneffaced:[344]

He fled in time, and saved his life, To waste his future years in strife,[oi]

That taught his land how great her loss In him who triumphed o'er the Cross, 'Gainst which he reared the Crescent high, And battled to avenge or die. 140

V.

Coumourgi[345]--he whose closing scene Adorned the triumph of Eugene, When on Carlowitz' b.l.o.o.d.y plain, The last and mightiest of the slain, He sank, regretting not to die, But cursed the Christian's victory-- Coumourgi--can his glory cease, That latest conqueror of Greece, Till Christian hands to Greece restore The freedom Venice gave of yore? 150 A hundred years have rolled away Since he refixed the Moslem's sway; And now he led the Mussulman, And gave the guidance of the van To Alp, who well repaid the trust By cities levelled with the dust; And proved, by many a deed of death, How firm his heart in novel faith.

VI.

The walls grew weak; and fast and hot Against them poured the ceaseless shot, 160 With unabating fury sent From battery to battlement; And thunder-like the pealing din[oj]

Rose from each heated culverin; And here and there some crackling dome Was fired before the exploding bomb; And as the fabric sank beneath The shattering sh.e.l.l's volcanic breath, In red and wreathing columns flashed The flame, as loud the ruin crashed, 170 Or into countless meteors driven, Its earth-stars melted into heaven;[ok]

Whose clouds that day grew doubly dun, Impervious to the hidden sun, With volumed smoke that slowly grew[ol]

To one wide sky of sulphurous hue.

VII.

But not for vengeance, long delayed, Alone, did Alp, the renegade, The Moslem warriors sternly teach His skill to pierce the promised breach: 180 Within these walls a Maid was pent His hope would win, without consent Of that inexorable Sire, Whose heart refused him in its ire, When Alp, beneath his Christian name, Her virgin hand aspired to claim.

In happier mood, and earlier time, While unimpeached for traitorous crime, Gayest in Gondola or Hall, He glittered through the Carnival; 190 And tuned the softest serenade That e'er on Adria's waters played At midnight to Italian maid.[om]

VIII.

And many deemed her heart was won; For sought by numbers, given to none, Had young Francesca's hand remained Still by the Church's bonds unchained: And when the Adriatic bore Lanciotto to the Paynim sh.o.r.e, Her wonted smiles were seen to fail, 200 And pensive waxed the maid and pale; More constant at confessional, More rare at masque and festival; Or seen at such, with downcast eyes, Which conquered hearts they ceased to prize: With listless look she seems to gaze: With humbler care her form arrays; Her voice less lively in the song; Her step, though light, less fleet among The pairs, on whom the Morning's glance 210 Breaks, yet unsated with the dance.

IX.

Sent by the State to guard the land, (Which, wrested from the Moslem's hand,[346]

While Sobieski tamed his pride By Buda's wall and Danube's side,[on]