XXI.

"What cheer, Ben Bunting?" cried (when in full view 500 Our new acquaintance) Torquil. "Aught of new?" "Ey, ey!" quoth Ben, "not new, but news enow; A strange sail in the offing."—"Sail! and how? What! could you make her out? It cannot be; I've seen no rag of canvass on the sea." "Belike," said Ben, "you might not from the bay, But from the bluff-head, where I watched to-day, I saw her in the doldrums; for the wind Was light and baffling."—"When the Sun declined Where lay she? had she anchored?"—"No, but still 510 She bore down on us, till the wind grew still." "Her flag?"—"I had no glass: but fore and aft, Egad! she seemed a wicked-looking craft." "Armed?"—"I expect so;—sent on the look-out: 'Tis time, belike, to put our helm about." "About?—Whate'er may have us now in chase, We'll make no running fight, for that were base; We will die at our quarters, like true men." "Ey, ey! for that 'tis all the same to Ben." "Does Christian know this?"—"Aye; he has piped all hands 520 To quarters. They are furbishing the stands Of arms; and we have got some guns to bear, And scaled them. You are wanted."—"That's but fair; And if it were not, mine is not the soul To leave my comrades helpless on the shoal. My Neuha! ah! and must my fate pursue Not me alone, but one so sweet and true? But whatsoe'er betide, ah, Neuha! now Unman me not: the hour will not allow A tear; I am thine whatever intervenes!" 530 "Right," quoth Ben; "that will do for the marines."[399]



CANTO THE THIRD.

I.

The fight was o'er; the flashing through the gloom, Which robes the cannon as he wings a tomb, Had ceased; and sulphury vapours upward driven Had left the Earth, and but polluted Heaven: The rattling roar which rung in every volley Had left the echoes to their melancholy; No more they shrieked their horror, boom for boom; The strife was done, the vanquished had their doom; The mutineers were crushed, dispersed, or ta'en, Or lived to deem the happiest were the slain. 10 Few, few escaped, and these were hunted o'er The isle they loved beyond their native shore. No further home was theirs, it seemed, on earth, Once renegades to that which gave them birth; Tracked like wild beasts, like them they sought the wild, As to a Mother's bosom flies the child; But vainly wolves and lions seek their den, And still more vainly men escape from men.

II.

Beneath a rock whose jutting base protrudes Far over Ocean in its fiercest moods, 20 When scaling his enormous crag the wave Is hurled down headlong, like the foremost brave, And falls back on the foaming crowd behind, Which fight beneath the banners of the wind, But now at rest, a little remnant drew Together, bleeding, thirsty, faint, and few; But still their weapons in their hands, and still With something of the pride of former will, As men not all unused to meditate, And strive much more than wonder at their fate. 30 Their present lot was what they had foreseen, And dared as what was likely to have been; Yet still the lingering hope, which deemed their lot Not pardoned, but unsought for or forgot, Or trusted that, if sought, their distant caves Might still be missed amidst the world of waves, Had weaned their thoughts in part from what they saw And felt, the vengeance of their country's law. Their sea-green isle, their guilt-won Paradise, No more could shield their Virtue or their Vice: 40 Their better feelings, if such were, were thrown Back on themselves,—their sins remained alone. Proscribed even in their second country, they Were lost; in vain the World before them lay; All outlets seemed secured. Their new allies Had fought and bled in mutual sacrifice; But what availed the club and spear, and arm Of Hercules, against the sulphury charm, The magic of the thunder, which destroyed The warrior ere his strength could be employed? 50 Dug, like a spreading pestilence, the grave No less of human bravery than the brave![400] Their own scant numbers acted all the few Against the many oft will dare and do; But though the choice seems native to die free, Even Greece can boast but one Thermopylae, Till now, when she has forged her broken chain Back to a sword, and dies and lives again!



III.

Beside the jutting rock the few appeared, Like the last remnant of the red-deer's herd; 60 Their eyes were feverish, and their aspect worn, But still the hunter's blood was on their horn. A little stream came tumbling from the height, And straggling into ocean as it might, Its bounding crystal frolicked in the ray, And gushed from cliff to crag with saltless spray; Close on the wild, wide ocean, yet as pure And fresh as Innocence, and more secure, Its silver torrent glittered o'er the deep, As the shy chamois' eye o'erlooks the steep, 70 While far below the vast and sullen swell Of Ocean's alpine azure rose and fell. To this young spring they rushed,—all feelings first Absorbed in Passion's and in Nature's thirst,— Drank as they do who drink their last, and threw Their arms aside to revel in its dew; Cooled their scorched throats, and washed the gory stains From wounds whose only bandage might be chains; Then, when their drought was quenched, looked sadly round, As wondering how so many still were found 80 Alive and fetterless:—but silent all, Each sought his fellow's eyes, as if to call On him for language which his lips denied, As though their voices with their cause had died.

IV.

Stern, and aloof a little from the rest, Stood Christian, with his arms across his chest. The ruddy, reckless, dauntless hue once spread Along his cheek was livid now as lead; His light-brown locks, so graceful in their flow, Now rose like startled vipers o'er his brow. 90 Still as a statue, with his lips comprest To stifle even the breath within his breast, Fast by the rock, all menacing, but mute, He stood; and, save a slight beat of his foot, Which deepened now and then the sandy dint Beneath his heel, his form seemed turned to flint. Some paces further Torquil leaned his head Against a bank, and spoke not, but he bled,— Not mortally:—his worst wound was within; His brow was pale, his blue eyes sunken in, 100 And blood-drops, sprinkled o'er his yellow hair, Showed that his faintness came not from despair, But Nature's ebb. Beside him was another, Rough as a bear, but willing as a brother,— Ben Bunting, who essayed to wash, and wipe, And bind his wound—then calmly lit his pipe, A trophy which survived a hundred fights, A beacon which had cheered ten thousand nights. The fourth and last of this deserted group Walked up and down—at times would stand, then stoop 110 To pick a pebble up—then let it drop— Then hurry as in haste—then quickly stop— Then cast his eyes on his companions—then Half whistle half a tune, and pause again— And then his former movements would redouble, With something between carelessness and trouble. This is a long description, but applies To scarce five minutes passed before the eyes; But yet what minutes! Moments like to these Rend men's lives into immortalities. 120

V.

At length Jack Skyscrape, a mercurial man, Who fluttered over all things like a fan, More brave than firm, and more disposed to dare And die at once than wrestle with despair, Exclaimed, "G—d damn!"—those syllables intense,— Nucleus of England's native eloquence, As the Turk's "Allah!" or the Roman's more Pagan "Proh Jupiter!" was wont of yore To give their first impressions such a vent, By way of echo to embarrassment.[fq] 130 Jack was embarrassed,—never hero more, And as he knew not what to say, he swore: Nor swore in vain; the long congenial sound Revived Ben Bunting from his pipe profound; He drew it from his mouth, and looked full wise, But merely added to the oath his eyes; Thus rendering the imperfect phrase complete, A peroration I need not repeat.

VI.

But Christian,[401] of a higher order, stood Like an extinct volcano in his mood; 140 Silent, and sad, and savage,—with the trace Of passion reeking from his clouded face; Till lifting up again his sombre eye, It glanced on Torquil, who leaned faintly by. "And is it thus?" he cried, "unhappy boy! And thee, too, thee—my madness must destroy!" He said, and strode to where young Torquil stood, Yet dabbled with his lately flowing blood; Seized his hand wistfully, but did not press, And shrunk as fearful of his own caress; 150 Enquired into his state: and when he heard The wound was slighter than he deemed or feared, A moment's brightness passed along his brow, As much as such a moment would allow. "Yes," he exclaimed, "we are taken in the toil, But not a coward or a common spoil; Dearly they have bought us—dearly still may buy,— And I must fall; but have you strength to fly? 'Twould be some comfort still, could you survive; Our dwindled band is now too few to strive. 160 Oh! for a sole canoe! though but a shell, To bear you hence to where a hope may dwell! For me, my lot is what I sought; to be, In life or death, the fearless and the free."

VII.

Even as he spoke, around the promontory, Which nodded o'er the billows high and hoary, A dark speck dotted Ocean: on it flew Like to the shadow of a roused sea-mew; Onward it came—and, lo! a second followed— Now seen—now hid—where Ocean's vale was hollowed; 170 And near, and nearer, till the dusky crew Presented well-known aspects to the view, Till on the surf their skimming paddles play, Buoyant as wings, and flitting through the spray;— Now perching on the wave's high curl, and now Dashed downward in the thundering foam below, Which flings it broad and boiling sheet on sheet, And slings its high flakes, shivered into sleet: But floating still through surf and swell, drew nigh The barks, like small birds through a lowering sky. 180 Their art seemed nature—such the skill to sweep The wave of these born playmates of the deep.

VIII.

And who the first that, springing on the strand, Leaped like a Nereid from her shell to land, With dark but brilliant skin, and dewy eye Shining with love, and hope, and constancy? Neuha—the fond, the faithful, the adored— Her heart on Torquil's like a torrent poured; And smiled, and wept, and near, and nearer clasped, As if to be assured 'twas him she grasped; 190 Shuddered to see his yet warm wound, and then, To find it trivial, smiled and wept again. She was a warrior's daughter, and could bear Such sights, and feel, and mourn, but not despair. Her lover lived,—nor foes nor fears could blight That full-blown moment in its all delight: Joy trickled in her tears, joy filled the sob That rocked her heart till almost heard to throb; And Paradise was breathing in the sigh Of Nature's child in Nature's ecstasy. 200

IX.

The sterner spirits who beheld that meeting Were not unmoved; who are, when hearts are greeting? Even Christian gazed upon the maid and boy With tearless eye, but yet a gloomy joy Mixed with those bitter thoughts the soul arrays In hopeless visions of our better days, When all's gone—to the rainbow's latest ray. "And but for me!" he said, and turned away; Then gazed upon the pair, as in his den A lion looks upon his cubs again; 210 And then relapsed into his sullen guise, As heedless of his further destinies.

X.

But brief their time for good or evil thought; The billows round the promontory brought The plash of hostile oars.—Alas! who made That sound a dread? All around them seemed arrayed Against them, save the bride of Toobonai: She, as she caught the first glimpse o'er the bay Of the armed boats, which hurried to complete The remnant's ruin with their flying feet,[fr] 220 Beckoned the natives round her to their prows, Embarked their guests and launched their light canoes; In one placed Christian and his comrades twain— But she and Torquil must not part again. She fixed him in her own.—Away! away! They cleared the breakers, dart along the bay, And towards a group of islets, such as bear The sea-bird's nest and seal's surf-hollowed lair, They skim the blue tops of the billows; fast They flew, and fast their fierce pursuers chased. 230 They gain upon them—now they lose again,— Again make way and menace o'er the main; And now the two canoes in chase divide, And follow different courses o'er the tide, To baffle the pursuit.—Away! away! As Life is on each paddle's flight to-day, And more than Life or lives to Neuha: Love Freights the frail bark and urges to the cove; And now the refuge and the foe are nigh— Yet, yet a moment! Fly, thou light ark, fly! 240



CANTO THE FOURTH.

I.

White as a white sail on a dusky sea, When half the horizon's clouded and half free, Fluttering between the dun wave and the sky, Is Hope's last gleam in Man's extremity. Her anchor parts; but still her snowy sail Attracts our eye amidst the rudest gale: Though every wave she climbs divides us more, The heart still follows from the loneliest shore.

II.

Not distant from the isle of Toobonai, A black rock rears its bosom o'er the spray, 10 The haunt of birds, a desert to mankind, Where the rough seal reposes from the wind, And sleeps unwieldy in his cavern dun, Or gambols with huge frolic in the sun: There shrilly to the passing oar is heard The startled echo of the Ocean bird, Who rears on its bare breast her callow brood, The feathered fishers of the solitude. A narrow segment of the yellow sand On one side forms the outline of a strand;[402] 20 Here the young turtle, crawling from his shell, Steals to the deep wherein his parents dwell; Chipped by the beam, a nursling of the day, But hatched for ocean by the fostering ray; The rest was one bleak precipice, as e'er Gave mariners a shelter and despair; A spot to make the saved regret the deck Which late went down, and envy the lost wreck. Such was the stern asylum Neuha chose To shield her lover from his following foes; 30 But all its secret was not told; she knew In this a treasure hidden from the view.

III.

Ere the canoes divided, near the spot, The men that manned what held her Torquil's lot, By her command removed, to strengthen more The skiff which wafted Christian from the shore. This he would have opposed; but with a smile She pointed calmly to the craggy isle, And bade him "speed and prosper." She would take The rest upon herself for Torquil's sake. 40 They parted with this added aid; afar, The Proa darted like a shooting star, And gained on the pursuers, who now steered Right on the rock which she and Torquil neared. They pulled; her arm, though delicate, was free And firm as ever grappled with the sea, And yielded scarce to Torquil's manlier strength. The prow now almost lay within its length Of the crag's steep inexorable face, With nought but soundless waters for its base; 50 Within a hundred boats' length was the foe, And now what refuge but their frail canoe? This Torquil asked with half upbraiding eye, Which said—"Has Neuha brought me here to die? Is this a place of safety, or a grave, And yon huge rock the tombstone of the wave?"

IV.

They rested on their paddles, and uprose Neuha, and pointing to the approaching foes, Cried, "Torquil, follow me, and fearless follow!" Then plunged at once into the Ocean's hollow. 60 There was no time to pause—the foes were near— Chains in his eye, and menace in his ear; With vigour they pulled on, and as they came, Hailed him to yield, and by his forfeit name. Headlong he leapt—to him the swimmer's skill Was native, and now all his hope from ill: But how, or where? He dived, and rose no more; The boat's crew looked amazed o'er sea and shore. There was no landing on that precipice, Steep, harsh, and slippery as a berg of ice. 70 They watched awhile to see him float again, But not a trace rebubbled from the main: The wave rolled on, no ripple on its face, Since their first plunge recalled a single trace; The little whirl which eddied, and slight foam, That whitened o'er what seemed their latest home, White as a sepulchre above the pair Who left no marble (mournful as an heir) The quiet Proa wavering o'er the tide Was all that told of Torquil and his bride; 80 And but for this alone the whole might seem The vanished phantom of a seaman's dream. They paused and searched in vain, then pulled away; Even Superstition now forbade their stay. Some said he had not plunged into the wave, But vanished like a corpse-light from a grave; Others, that something supernatural Glared in his figure, more than mortal tall; While all agreed that in his cheek and eye There was a dead hue of Eternity. 90 Still as their oars receded from the crag, Round every weed a moment would they lag, Expectant of some token of their prey; But no—he had melted from them like the spray.

V.

And where was he the Pilgrim of the Deep, Following the Nereid? Had they ceased to weep For ever? or, received in coral caves, Wrung life and pity from the softening waves? Did they with Ocean's hidden sovereigns dwell, And sound with Mermen the fantastic shell? 100 Did Neuha with the mermaids comb her hair Flowing o'er ocean as it streamed in air? Or had they perished, and in silence slept Beneath the gulf wherein they boldly leapt?

VI.

Young Neuha plunged into the deep, and he Followed: her track beneath her native sea Was as a native's of the element, So smoothly—bravely—brilliantly she went, Leaving a streak of light behind her heel, Which struck and flashed like an amphibious steel, 110 Closely, and scarcely less expert to trace The depths where divers hold the pearl in chase, Torquil, the nursling of the northern seas, Pursued her liquid steps with heart and ease. Deep—deeper for an instant Neuha led The way—then upward soared—and as she spread Her arms, and flung the foam from off her locks, Laughed, and the sound was answered by the rocks. They had gained a central realm of earth again, But looked for tree, and field, and sky, in vain. 120 Around she pointed to a spacious cave, Whose only portal was the keyless wave,[403] (A hollow archway by the sun unseen, Save through the billows' glassy veil of green, In some transparent ocean holiday, When all the finny people are at play,) Wiped with her hair the brine from Torquil's eyes, And clapped her hands with joy at his surprise; Led him to where the rock appeared to jut, And form a something like a Triton's hut; 130 For all was darkness for a space, till day, Through clefts above let in a sobered ray; As in some old cathedral's glimmering aisle The dusty monuments from light recoil, Thus sadly in their refuge submarine The vault drew half her shadow from the scene.



VII.

Forth from her bosom the young savage drew A pine torch, strongly girded with gnatoo; A plantain-leaf o'er all, the more to keep Its latent sparkle from the sapping deep. 140 This mantle kept it dry; then from a nook Of the same plantain-leaf a flint she took, A few shrunk withered twigs, and from the blade Of Torquil's knife struck fire, and thus arrayed The grot with torchlight. Wide it was and high, And showed a self-born Gothic canopy; The arch upreared by Nature's architect, The architrave some Earthquake might erect; The buttress from some mountain's bosom hurled, When the Poles crashed, and water was the world; 150 Or hardened from some earth-absorbing fire, While yet the globe reeked from its funeral pyre; The fretted pinnacle, the aisle, the nave,[404] Were there, all scooped by Darkness from her cave. There, with a little tinge of phantasy, Fantastic faces moped and mowed on high, And then a mitre or a shrine would fix The eye upon its seeming crucifix. Thus Nature played with the stalactites,[405] And built herself a Chapel of the Seas. 160



VIII.

And Neuha took her Torquil by the hand, And waved along the vault her kindled brand, And led him into each recess, and showed The secret places of their new abode. Nor these alone, for all had been prepared Before, to soothe the lover's lot she shared: The mat for rest; for dress the fresh gnatoo, And sandal oil to fence against the dew; For food the cocoa-nut, the yam, the bread Born of the fruit; for board the plantain spread 170 With its broad leaf, or turtle-shell which bore A banquet in the flesh it covered o'er; The gourd with water recent from the rill, The ripe banana from the mellow hill; A pine-torch pile to keep undying light, And she herself, as beautiful as night, To fling her shadowy spirit o'er the scene, And make their subterranean world serene. She had foreseen, since first the stranger's sail Drew to their isle, that force or flight might fail, 180 And formed a refuge of the rocky den For Torquil's safety from his countrymen.[fs] Each dawn had wafted there her light canoe, Laden with all the golden fruits that grew; Each eve had seen her gliding through the hour With all could cheer or deck their sparry bower; And now she spread her little store with smiles, The happiest daughter of the loving isles.

IX.

She, as he gazed with grateful wonder, pressed Her sheltered love to her impassioned breast; 190 And suited to her soft caresses, told An olden tale of Love,—for Love is old, Old as eternity, but not outworn With each new being born or to be born:[406] How a young Chief, a thousand moons ago, Diving for turtle in the depths below, Had risen, in tracking fast his ocean prey, Into the cave which round and o'er them lay; How, in some desperate feud of after-time, He sheltered there a daughter of the clime, 200 A foe beloved, and offspring of a foe, Saved by his tribe but for a captive's woe; How, when the storm of war was stilled, he led His island clan to where the waters spread Their deep-green shadow o'er the rocky door, Then dived—it seemed as if to rise no more: His wondering mates, amazed within their bark, Or deemed him mad, or prey to the blue shark; Rowed round in sorrow the sea-girded rock, Then paused upon their paddles from the shock; 210 When, fresh and springing from the deep, they saw A Goddess rise—so deemed they in their awe; And their companion, glorious by her side, Proud and exulting in his Mermaid bride; And how, when undeceived, the pair they bore With sounding conchs and joyous shouts to shore; How they had gladly lived and calmly died,— And why not also Torquil and his bride? Not mine to tell the rapturous caress Which followed wildly in that wild recess 220 This tale; enough that all within that cave Was love, though buried strong as in the grave, Where Abelard, through twenty years of death, When Eloisa's form was lowered beneath Their nuptial vault, his arms outstretched, and pressed The kindling ashes to his kindled breast.[407] The waves without sang round their couch, their roar As much unheeded as if life were o'er; Within, their hearts made all their harmony, Love's broken murmur and more broken sigh. 230

X.

And they, the cause and sharers of the shock Which left them exiles of the hollow rock, Where were they? O'er the sea for life they plied, To seek from Heaven the shelter men denied. Another course had been their choice—but where? The wave which bore them still their foes would bear, Who, disappointed of their former chase, In search of Christian now renewed their race. Eager with anger, their strong arms made way, Like vultures baffled of their previous prey. 240 They gained upon them, all whose safety lay In some bleak crag or deeply-hidden bay: No further chance or choice remained; and right For the first further rock which met their sight They steered, to take their latest view of land, And yield as victims, or die sword in hand; Dismissed the natives and their shallop, who Would still have battled for that scanty crew; But Christian bade them seek their shore again, Nor add a sacrifice which were in vain; 250 For what were simple bow and savage spear Against the arms which must be wielded here?



XI.

They landed on a wild but narrow scene, Where few but Nature's footsteps yet had been; Prepared their arms, and with that gloomy eye, Stern and sustained, of man's extremity, When Hope is gone, nor Glory's self remains To cheer resistance against death or chains.— They stood, the three, as the three hundred stood Who dyed Thermopylae with holy blood. 260 But, ah! how different! 'tis the cause makes all, Degrades or hallows courage in its fall. O'er them no fame, eternal and intense, Blazed through the clouds of Death and beckoned hence; No grateful country, smiling through her tears, Begun the praises of a thousand years; No nation's eyes would on their tomb be bent, No heroes envy them their monument; However boldly their warm blood was spilt, Their Life was shame, their Epitaph was guilt. 270 And this they knew and felt, at least the one, The leader of the band he had undone; Who, born perchance for better things, had set His life upon a cast which lingered yet: But now the die was to be thrown, and all The chances were in favour of his fall: And such a fall! But still he faced the shock, Obdurate as a portion of the rock Whereon he stood, and fixed his levelled gun, Dark as a sullen cloud before the sun. 280

XII.

The boat drew nigh, well armed, and firm the crew To act whatever Duty bade them do; Careless of danger, as the onward wind Is of the leaves it strews, nor looks behind. And, yet, perhaps, they rather wished to go Against a nation's than a native foe, And felt that this poor victim of self-will, Briton no more, had once been Britain's still. They hailed him to surrender—no reply; Their arms were poised, and glittered in the sky. 290 They hailed again—no answer; yet once more They offered quarter louder than before. The echoes only, from the rock's rebound, Took their last farewell of the dying sound. Then flashed the flint, and blazed the volleying flame, And the smoke rose between them and their aim, While the rock rattled with the bullets' knell, Which pealed in vain, and flattened as they fell; Then flew the only answer to be given By those who had lost all hope in earth or heaven. 300 After the first fierce peal as they pulled nigher, They heard the voice of Christian shout, "Now, fire!" And ere the word upon the echo died, Two fell; the rest assailed the rock's rough side, And, furious at the madness of their foes, Disdained all further efforts, save to close. But steep the crag, and all without a path, Each step opposed a bastion to their wrath, While, placed 'midst clefts the least accessible, Which Christian's eye was trained to mark full well, 310 The three maintained a strife which must not yield, In spots where eagles might have chosen to build. Their every shot told; while the assailant fell, Dashed on the shingles like the limpet shell; But still enough survived, and mounted still, Scattering their numbers here and there, until Surrounded and commanded, though not nigh Enough for seizure, near enough to die, The desperate trio held aloof their fate But by a thread, like sharks who have gorged the bait; 320 Yet to the very last they battled well, And not a groan informed their foes who fell. Christian died last—twice wounded; and once more Mercy was offered when they saw his gore; Too late for life, but not too late to die,[ft] With, though a hostile hand, to close his eye. A limb was broken, and he drooped along The crag, as doth a falcon reft of young.[fu] The sound revived him, or appeared to wake Some passion which a weakly gesture spake: 330 He beckoned to the foremost, who drew nigh, But, as they neared, he reared his weapon high— His last ball had been aimed, but from his breast He tore the topmost button from his vest,[408][fv] Down the tube dashed it—levelled—fired, and smiled As his foe fell; then, like a serpent, coiled His wounded, weary form, to where the steep Looked desperate as himself along the deep; Cast one glance back, and clenched his hand, and shook His last rage 'gainst the earth which he forsook; 340 Then plunged: the rock below received like glass His body crushed into one gory mass, With scarce a shred to tell of human form, Or fragment for the sea-bird or the worm; A fair-haired scalp, besmeared with blood and weeds, Yet reeked, the remnant of himself and deeds; Some splinters of his weapons (to the last, As long as hand could hold, he held them fast) Yet glittered, but at distance—hurled away To rust beneath the dew and dashing spray. 350 The rest was nothing—save a life mis-spent, And soul—but who shall answer where it went? 'Tis ours to bear, not judge the dead; and they Who doom to Hell, themselves are on the way, Unless these bullies of eternal pains Are pardoned their bad hearts for their worse brains.



XIII.

The deed was over! All were gone or ta'en, The fugitive, the captive, or the slain. Chained on the deck, where once, a gallant crew, They stood with honour, were the wretched few 360 Survivors of the skirmish on the isle; But the last rock left no surviving spoil. Cold lay they where they fell, and weltering, While o'er them flapped the sea-birds' dewy wing, Now wheeling nearer from the neighbouring surge, And screaming high their harsh and hungry dirge: But calm and careless heaved the wave below, Eternal with unsympathetic flow; Far o'er its face the Dolphins sported on, And sprung the flying fish against the sun, 370 Till its dried wing relapsed from its brief height, To gather moisture for another flight.

XIV.

'Twas morn; and Neuha, who by dawn of day Swam smoothly forth to catch the rising ray, And watch if aught approached the amphibious lair Where lay her lover, saw a sail in air: It flapped, it filled, and to the growing gale Bent its broad arch: her breath began to fail With fluttering fear, her heart beat thick and high, While yet a doubt sprung where its course might lie. 380 But no! it came not; fast and far away The shadow lessened as it cleared the bay. She gazed, and flung the sea-foam from her eyes, To watch as for a rainbow in the skies. On the horizon verged the distant deck, Diminished, dwindled to a very speck— Then vanished. All was Ocean, all was Joy! Down plunged she through the cave to rouse her boy; Told all she had seen, and all she hoped, and all That happy love could augur or recall; 390 Sprung forth again, with Torquil following free His bounding Nereid over the broad sea; Swam round the rock, to where a shallow cleft Hid the canoe that Neuha there had left Drifting along the tide, without an oar, That eve the strangers chased them from the shore; But when these vanished, she pursued her prow, Regained, and urged to where they found it now: Nor ever did more love and joy embark, Than now were wafted in that slender ark. 400

XV.

Again their own shore rises on the view, No more polluted with a hostile hue; No sullen ship lay bristling o'er the foam, A floating dungeon:—all was Hope and Home! A thousand Proas darted o'er the bay, With sounding shells, and heralded their way; The chiefs came down, around the people poured, And welcomed Torquil as a son restored; The women thronged, embracing and embraced By Neuha, asking where they had been chased, 410 And how escaped? The tale was told; and then One acclamation rent the sky again; And from that hour a new tradition gave Their sanctuary the name of "Neuha's Cave." A hundred fires, far flickering from the height,[fw] Blazed o'er the general revel of the night, The feast in honour of the guest, returned To Peace and Pleasure, perilously earned; A night succeeded by such happy days As only the yet infant world displays.[fx] 420

J. 10^th^ 1823.

FOOTNOTES:

[ex] {587} ——and made before the breeze her way.—[MS. D. erased.]

[ey] ——their doubtful shimmer from the deep.—[MS. D. erased]

[352] [William Bligh, the son of Cornish parents, was born September 9 1754 (? 1753). He served under Cook in his second voyage in the Resolution, 1772-75, as sailing-master; and, in 1782, fought under Lord Howe at Gibraltar. He married a daughter of William Betham, first collector of customs in the Isle of Man, and hence his connection with Fletcher Christian, who belonged to a Manx family, and the midshipman Peter Hayward, who was the son of a Deemster. He was appointed to the Bounty in December, 1787, and in 1791 to the Providence, which was despatched to the Society Islands to obtain a fresh cargo of bread-fruit trees in place of those which were thrown overboard by the mutineers. He commanded the Glatton at Copenhagen, May 21, 1801, and on that and other occasions served with distinction. He was made Governor of New South Wales in 1805, but was forcibly deposed in an insurrection headed by Major Johnston, January, 1808. He was kept in prison till 1810, but on his return to England his administration of his office was approved, and Johnston was cashiered. He was advanced to the rank of Vice-Admiral of the Blue in 1814, and died, December 7, 1817.

In his Narrative Bligh describes the mutiny as "a close-planned act of villainy," and attributes the conspiracy not to his own harshness, or to disloyalty provoked by "real or imaginary grievances," but to the contrast of life on board ship, "in ever climbing up the climbing wave," with the unearned luxuries of Tahiti, "the allurements of dissipation ... the female connections," which the sailors had left behind. Besides his own apology, there are the sworn statements of the two midshipmen, Hayward and Hallet, and others, which Bligh published in answer to a pamphlet which Edward Christian, afterwards Chief Justice of Ely, wrote in defence of his brother Fletcher. The evidence against Bligh is contained in the MS. journal of the boatswain's mate, James Morrison, which was saved, as by a miracle, from the wreck of the Pandora, and is quoted by Sir John Barrow, Lady Belcher, and other authorities. There is, too, the testimony of John Adams (Alexander Smith), as recorded by Captain Beachey, and, as additional proof of indifference and tyrannical behaviour, there are Bligh's own letters to Peter Hayward's mother and uncle (March 26, April 2, 1790), and W. C. Wentworth's account of his administration as Governor of New South Wales (see A Statistical Description, etc., 1819, p. 166). It cannot be gainsaid that Bligh was a man of integrity and worth, and that he was upheld and esteemed by the Admiralty. Morrison's Journal, though in parts corroborated by Bligh's MS. Journal, is not altogether convincing, and the testimony of John Adams in his old age counts for little. But according to his own supporters he "damned" his men though not the officers, and his own Narrative, as well as Morrison's Journal, proves that he was suspicious, and that he underrated and misunderstood the character and worth of his subordinates. He was responsible for the prolonged sojourn at Tahiti, and he should have remembered that time and distance are powerful solvents, and that between Portsmouth Hard and the untracked waters of the Pacific, "all Arcadia" had intervened. He was a man of imperfect sympathies, wanting in tact and fineness, but in the hour of need he behaved like a hero, and saved himself and others by submission to duty and strenuous self-control. Moreover, he "helped England" not once or twice, "in the brave days of old." (See A Narrative, etc., 1790; The Naval History of Great Britain, by E. P. Brenton, 1823, i. 96, sq.; Royal Naval Biography, by John Marshall, 1823-35, ii. pp. 747, sq.; Mutineers of the Bounty, by Lady Belcher, 1870, p. 8; Dictionary of National Biography, art. "Bligh.")]

[353] {589}["A few hours before, my situation had been peculiarly flattering. I had a ship in the most perfect order, and well stored with every necessary, both for service and health; ... the voyage was two thirds completed, and the remaining part in a very promising way."—A Narrative of the Mutiny, etc., by Lieut. W. Bligh, 1790, p. 9.]

[354] ["The women at Otaheite are handsome, mild, and cheerful in their manners and conversation, possessed of great sensibility, and have sufficient delicacy to make them admired and beloved. The chiefs were so much attached to our people, that they rather encouraged their stay among them than otherwise, and even made them promises of large possessions. Under these and many other attendant circumstances equally desirable, it is now, perhaps, not so much to be wondered at ... that a set of sailors, most of them void of connections, should be led away, especially when they imagined it in their power to fix themselves, in the midst of plenty, ... on the finest island in the world, where they need not labour, and where the allurements of dissipation are beyond anything that can be conceived,"—Ibid., p. 10.]

[ez] And all enjoy the exuberance of the wild.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fa] {590} Their formidable fleet the quick canoe.—[MS. D. erased.]

[355] {591}["Just before sunrising Mr. Christian, with the master-at-arms, gunner's mate, and Thomas Burkitt, seaman, came into my cabin while I was asleep, and, seizing me, tied my hands with a cord behind my back, and threatened me with instant death if I spoke or made the least noise. I, however, called out so loud as to alarm every one; but they had already secured the officers who were not of their party, by placing sentinels at their doors. There were three men at my cabin door, besides the four within; Christian had only a cutlass in his hand, the others had muskets and bayonets. I was hauled out of bed, and forced on deck in my shirt, suffering great pain from the tightness with which they had tied my hands.... The boatswain was now ordered to hoist the launch out. The boat being hoisted out, Mr. Hayward and Mr. Hallet, midshipmen, were ordered into it; upon which I demanded the cause of such an order, and endeavoured to persuade some one to a sense of duty; but it was to no effect: 'Hold your tongue, sir, or you are dead this instant,' was constantly repeated to me."—A Narrative of the Mutiny, etc., by Lieut. W. Bligh, 1790, pp. 1, 2.]

[356] ["The boatswain, and seamen who were to go in the boat, were allowed to collect twine, canvass, lines, sails, cordage, an eight-and-twenty-gallon cask of water, and the carpenter to take his tool-chest. Mr. Samuel got one hundred and fifty pounds of bread with a small quantity of rum and wine ... also a quadrant and compass."—Ibid., p. 3.]

[357] {592}["The mutineers now hurried those they meant to get rid of into the boat, ... Christian directed a dram to be served to each of his own crew."—A Narrative, etc., 1790, p. 3.]

[fb]

And lull it in his followers—"Ho! the dram" Rebellions sacrament, and paschal lamb. (A broken metaphor of flesh for wine But Catholics know the exchange is none of mine.—[MS. D. erased.]

And raise it in his followers—Ho! the bowl That sure Nepenthe for the wavering [soul].—[MS. D. erased.]

[358] [It was Johnson, not Burke, who upheld the claims of brandy.—"He was persuaded," says Boswell, "to drink one glass of it [claret]. He shook his head, and said, 'Poor stuff!—No, Sir, claret is the liquor for boys; port for men; but he who aspires to be a hero (smiling) must drink brandy.'"—Boswell's Life of Johnson, 1848, p. 627.]

[359] ["While the ship ... was in sight she steered to the W.N.W., but I considered this only a feint; for when we were sent away, 'Huzza for Otaheite!' was frequently heard among the mutineers."—A Narrative, etc., 1790, pp. 4-8. This statement is questioned by Sir John Barrow (The Eventful History, etc., 1831, p. 91), on the grounds that the mutiny was the result of a sudden determination on the part of Christian, and that liberty, and not the delights of Tahiti, was the object which the mutineers had in view.]

[360] {593}[A variant of Pope's lines—

"For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight, His can't be wrong, whose life is in the right."

Essay on Man, iii. 305, 306.]

[361] ["Isaac Martin, one of the guard over me, I saw, had an inclination to assist me; and as he fed me with shaddock (my lips being quite parched with my endeavours to bring about a change), we explained our wishes to each other by our looks; but this being observed, Martin was instantly removed from me."—A Narrative, etc., 1790, p. 4.]

[362] {594}["Christian ... then ... said, 'Come, Captain Bligh, your officers and men are now in the boat; and you must go with them; if you attempt to make the least resistance you will instantly be put to death;' and without any farther ceremony, holding me by the cord that tied my hands, with a tribe of armed ruffians about me, I was forced over the side, where they untied my hands. Being in the boat, we were veered astern by a rope. A few pieces of pork were thrown to me and some clothes.... After having undergone a great deal of ridicule, and being kept for some time to make sport for these unfeeling wretches, we were at length cast adrift in the open ocean.... When they were forcing me out of the ship, I asked him [Christian] if this treatment was a proper return for the many instances he had received of my friendship? He appeared disturbed at the question, and answered, with much emotion, 'That,—Captain Bligh,—that is the thing;—I am in hell—I am in hell.'"—A Narrative, etc., 1790, pp. 4-8.

Bligh's testimony on this point does not correspond with Morrison's journal, or with the evidence of the master, John Fryer, given at the court-martial, September 12, 1792. According to Morrison, when the boatswain tried to pacify Christian, he replied, "It is too late, I have been in hell for this fortnight past, and am determined to bear it no longer." The master's version is that he appealed to Christian, and that Christian exclaimed, "Hold your tongue, sir, I have been in hell for weeks past; Captain Bligh has brought all this on himself." Bligh seems to have flattered himself that in the act of mutiny Christian was seized with remorse, but it is clear that the wish was father to the thought. Moreover, on being questioned, Fryer, who was a supporter of the captain, explained that Christian referred to quarrels, to abuse in general, and more particularly to a recent accusation of stealing cocoa-nuts. (See The Eventful History, etc., 1831, pp. 84, 208, 209.)]

[363] {595}[Byron must mean "antarctic." "Arctic" is used figuratively for "cold," but not as a synonym for "polar."]

[fc] Now swelled now sighed along——.—[MS. D. erased.]

[364] ["At dawn of day some of my people seemed half dead; our appearances were horrible; and I could look no way, but I caught the eye of some one in distress."—A Narrative, etc., p. 37. Later on, p. 80, when the launch reached Timor, he speaks of the crew as "so many spectres, whose ghastly countenances, if the cause had been unknown, would have excited terror rather than pity."]

[365] [Bligh dwells on the misery caused to the luckless crew by drenching rains and by hunger, but says that no one suffered from thirst.]

[fd] {596} Nor yet unpitied. Vengeance had her own.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fe] ——the undisputed root.—[MS. D. erased.]

[366] The now celebrated bread fruit, to transplant which Captain Bligh's expedition was undertaken.

[The bread-fruit (Autocarpus incisa) was discovered by Dampier, in 1688. "Cook says that its taste is insipid, with a slight sweetness, somewhat resembling that of the crumb of wheaten bread mixed with a Jerusalem artichoke."—The Eventful History, etc., 1831, p. 43.]

[367] [See Letters from Mr. Fletcher Christian (pseud.), 1796, pp. 48, 49.]

[ff] Thus Argo plunged into the Euxine's foam.—[MS. D, erased.]

[368] {598} The first three sections are taken from an actual song of the Tonga Islanders, of which a prose translation is given in "Mariner's Account of the Tonga Islands." Toobonai is not however one of them; but was one of those where Christian and the mutineers took refuge. I have altered and added, but have retained as much as possible of the original.

["Whilst we were talking of Vavaoo tooa Lico, the women said to us, 'Let us repair to the back of the island to contemplate the setting sun: there let us listen to the warbling of the birds, and the cooing of the wood-pigeon. We will gather flowers from the burying-place at Matawto, and partake of refreshments prepared for us at Lico O'nĕ: we will then bathe in the sea, and rinse ourselves in the Vaoo A'ca; we will anoint our skins in the sun with sweet-scented oil, and will plait in wreaths the flowers gathered at Matawto.' And now as we stand motionless on the eminence over Anoo Manoo, the whistling of the wind among the branches of the lofty toa shall fill us with a pleasing melancholy; or our minds shall be seized with astonishment as we behold the roaring surf below, endeavouring but in vain to tear away the firm rocks. Oh! how much happier shall we be thus employed, than when engaged in the troublesome and insipid cares of life!

"Now as night comes on, we must return to the Mooa. But hark!—hear you not the sound of the mats?—they are practising a bo-oola ['a kind of dance performed by torch-light'], to be performed to-night on the malai, at Tanea. Let us also go there. How will that scene of rejoicing call to our minds the many festivals held there, before Vavdoo was torn to pieces by war! Alas! how destructive is war! Behold! how it has rendered the land productive of weeds, and opened untimely graves for departed heroes! Our chiefs can now no longer enjoy the sweet pleasure of wandering alone by moonlight in search of their mistresses. But let us banish sorrow from our hearts: since we are at war, we must think and act like the natives of Fiji, who first taught us this destructive art. Let us therefore enjoy the present time, for to-morrow perhaps, or the next day, we may die. We will dress ourselves with chi coola, and put bands of white tappa round our waists. We will plait thick wreaths of jiale for our heads, and prepare strings of hooni for our necks, that their whiteness may show off the colour of our skins. Mark how the uncultivated spectators are profuse of their applause! But now the dance is over: let us remain here to-night and feast and be cheerful, and to-morrow we will depart for the Mooa. How troublesome are the young men, begging for our wreaths of flowers! while they say in their flattery, 'See how charming these young girls look coming from Licoo!—how beautiful are their skins, diffusing around a fragrance like the flowering precipice of Mataloco:—Let us also visit Licoo. We will depart to-morrow.'"—An Account of the Natives of the Tonga Islands, etc., 1817, i. 307, 308. See, too, for another version, ed. 1827, vol. ii. Appendix, p. xl.]

[369] {599}[Bolotoo is a visionary island to the north westward, the home of the Gods. The souls of chieftains, priests, and, possibly, the gentry, ascend to Bolotoo after death; but the souls of the lower classes "come to dust" with their bodies.—An Account, etc., 1817, ii. 104, 105.]

[370] [The toa, or drooping casuarina (C. equisetifolia). "Formerly the toa was regarded as sacred, and planted in groves round the 'Morais' of Tahiti."—Polynesia, by G. F. Angas, 1866, p. 44.]

[371] {600}[The capital town of an island.]

[372] ["The preparation of gnatoo, or tappa-cloth, from the inner bark of the paper mulberry tree, occupies much of the time of the Tongan women. The bark, after being soaked in water, is beaten out by means of wooden mallets, which are grooved longitudinally.... Early in the morning," says Mariner, "when the air is calm and still, the beating of the gnatoo at all the plantations about has a very pleasing effect; some sounds being near at hand, and others almost lost by the distance, some a little more acute, others more grave, and all with remarkable regularity, produce a musical variety that is ... heightened by the singing of the birds, and the cheerful influence of the scene."—Polynesia, 1846, pp. 249, 250.]

[373] [Marly, or Malai, is an open grass plat set apart for public ceremonies.]

[fg]

Ere Fiji's children blew the shell of war And armed Canoes brought Fury from afar.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fh] Too long forgotten in the pleasure ground.—[MS. D. erased.]

[374] [Cava, "kava," or "ava," is an intoxicating drink, prepared from the roots and stems of a kind of pepper (Piper methysticum). Mariner (An Account, etc., 1817, ii. 183-206) gives a highly interesting and suggestive account of the process of brewing the kava, and of the solemn "kava-drinking," which was attended with ceremonial rites. Briefly, a large wooden bowl, about three feet in diameter, and one foot in depth in the centre (see, for a typical specimen, King Thakombau's kava-bowl, in the British Museum), is placed in front of the king or chief, who sits in the midst, surrounded by his guests and courtiers. A portion of kava root is handed to each person present, who chews it to a pulp, and then deposits his quid in the kava bowl. Water being gradually added, the roots are well squeezed and twisted by various "curvilinear turns" of the hands and arms through the "fow," i.e. shavings of fibrous bark. When the "kava is in the cup," quaighs made of the "unexpanded leaf of the banana" are handed round to the guests, and the symposium begins. Mariner (ibid., p. 205, note) records a striking feature of the preliminary rites, a consecration or symbolic "grace before" drinking. "When a god has no priest, as Tali-y-Toobo [the Supreme Deity of the Tongans], no person ... presides at the head of his cava circle, the place being left ... vacant, but which it is supposed the god invisibly occupies.... And they go through the usual form of words, as if the first cup was actually filled and presented to the god: thus, before any cup is filled, the man by the side of the bowl says ... 'The cava is in the cup:' the mataboole answers ... 'Give it to our god:' but this is mere form, for there is no cup filled for the god." (See, too, The Making of Religion, by A. Lang, 1900, p. 279.)]

[375] {601}[The gnatoo, which is a piece of tappa cloth, is worn in different ways. "Twenty yards of fine cloth are required by a Tahitian woman to make one dress, which is worn from the waist downwards."—Polynesia, 1866, p. 45.]

[376] [Licoo is the name given to the back of or unfrequented part of any island.]

[fi]

How beauteous are their skins, how softly all The forms of Beauty wrap them like a pall.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fj] {602} Glares with his mountain eye—.—[MS. D. erased.]

[377] [The Morning Chronicle, November 6, 1822, prints the following proclamation of Jose Maria Carreno, Commandant-General of Panama: "Inhabitants of the Isthmus! The Genius of History, which has everywhere crowned our arms, announces peace to Colombia.... From the banks of Orinoco to the towering summits of Chimborazo not a single enemy exists, and those who proudly marched towards the abode of the ancient children of the Sun have either perished or remain prisoners expecting our clemency."]

[378] [Compare "a wise man's sentiment," as quoted by Andrew Fletcher of Saltoun: "He believed if a man were permitted to make all the Ballads, he need not care who should make the Laws."—An Account of a Conversation, etc., 1704, p. 10.]

[fk] {603} Than all the records History's annals rear.—[MS. D. erased.]

[379] [Jean Francois Champollion (1790-1832), at a meeting of the Academie des inscriptions, at Paris, September 17, 1822, announced the discovery of the alphabet of hieroglyphics.]

[380] [So, too, Shelley, in his Preface to the Revolt of Islam, speaks of "that more essential attribute of Poetry, the power of awakening in others sensations like those which animate my own bosom."]

[fl] {604}

And she herself the daughter of the Seas As full of gems and energy as these.—[MS. D. erased.]

[381] {605}[George Stewart was born at Ronaldshay (circ. 1764), but was living at Stromness in 1780 (where his father's house, "The White House," is still shown), when, on the homeward voyage of the Resolution, Cook and Bligh were hospitably entertained by his parents. He was of honourable descent. His mother's ancestors were sprung from a half-brother of Mary Stuart's, and his father's family dated back to 1400. When he was at Timor, Bligh gave a "description of the pirates" for purposes of identification by the authorities at Calcutta and elsewhere. "George Stewart, midshipman, aged 23 years, is five feet seven inches high, good complexion, dark hair, slender made ... small face, and black eyes; tatowed on the left breast with a star," etc. Lieutenant Bligh took Stewart with him, partly in return for the "civilities" at Stromness, but also because "he was a seaman, and had always borne a good character." Alexander Smith told Captain Beachey (Narrative of a Voyage to the Pacific, 1831, Part I. p. 53) that it was Stewart who advised Christian "to take possession of the ship," but Peter Hayward, who survived to old age, strenuously maintained that this was a calumny, that Stewart was forcibly detained in his cabin, and that he would not, in any case, have taken part in the mutiny. He had, perhaps, already wooed and won a daughter of the isles, and when the Bounty revisited Tahiti, September 20, 1789, he was put ashore, and took up his quarters in her father's house. There he remained till March, 1791, when he "voluntarily surrendered himself" to the captain of the Pandora, and was immediately put in irons. The story of his parting from his bride is told in A Missionary Voyage to the Southern Pacific Ocean in the Ship Duff (by W. Wilson), 1799, p. 360: "The history of Peggy Stewart marks a tenderness of heart that never will be heard without emotion.... They had lived with the old chief in the most tender state of endearment; a beautiful little girl had been the fruit of their union, and was at the breast when the Pandora arrived.... Frantic with grief, the unhappy Peggy ... flew with her infant in a canoe to the arms of her husband. She was separated from him by violence, and conveyed on shore in a state of despair and grief too big for utterance ... she sank into the deepest dejection, pined under a rapid decay ... and fell a victim to her feelings, dying literally of a broken heart." Stewart was drowned or killed by an accident during the wreck of the Pandora, August 29, 1791. Sunt lacrymae rerum! It is a mournful tale.]

[382] {606} The "ship of the desert" is the Oriental figure for the camel or dromedary; and they deserve the metaphor well,—the former for his endurance, the latter for his swiftness. [Compare The Deformed Transformed, Part I. sc. i, line 117.]

[383] [Compare The Age of Bronze, lines 271-279.]

[384]

"Lucullus, when frugality could charm. Had roasted turnips in the Sabine farm."

POPE [Moral Essays, i. 218, 219.]

[385] The consul Nero, who made the unequalled march which deceived Hannibal, and defeated Asdrubal; thereby accomplishing an achievement almost unrivalled in military annals. The first intelligence of his return, to Hannibal, was the sight of Asdrubal's head thrown into his camp. When Hannibal saw this, he exclaimed with a sigh, that "Rome would now be the mistress of the world." And yet to this victory of Nero's it might be owing that his imperial namesake reigned at all. But the infamy of one has eclipsed the glory of the other. When the name of "Nero" is heard, who thinks of the consul?—But such are human things! [For Hannibal's cry of despair, "Agnoscere se fortunam Carthaginis!" see Livy, lib. xxvii. cap. li. s.f.]

[fm] Tyrant or hero—patriot or a chief.—[MS. erased.]

[386] [Compare Childe Harold, Canto II. stanza v. line i, see Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 102, and 99, note 1.]

[387] {609}[Toobo Neuha is the name of a Tongan chieftain. See Mariner's Account, etc., 1817, 141, sq.]

[388] When very young, about eight years of age, after an attack of the scarlet fever at Aberdeen, I was removed by medical advice into the Highlands. Here I passed occasionally some summers, and from this period I date my love of mountainous countries. I can never forget the effect, a few years afterwards, in England, of the only thing I had long seen, even in miniature, of a mountain, in the Malvern Hills. After I returned to Cheltenham, I used to watch them every afternoon, at sunset, with a sensation which I cannot describe. This was boyish enough: but I was then only thirteen years of age, and it was in the holidays. [Byron spent his summer holidays, 1796-98, at the farm-house of Ballatrich, on Deeside. (See Poetical Works, 1898, i. 192, note 2. For his visit to Cheltenham, in the summer of 1801, see Life, pp. 8, 19.)

[389] {610}[For the eagle's beak, see Childe Harold, Canto III. stanza xviii. line 6, Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 226, note 1.]

[390] {611}[Compare Macbeth, act ii. sc. 4, line 13.]

[391] [Compare—"The never-merry clock," Werner, act iii. sc. 3, line 3.]

[fn] Which knolls the knell of moments out of man.—[MS. D. erased.]

[392] {612} The now well-known story of the loves of the nightingale and rose need not be more than alluded to, being sufficiently familiar to the Western as to the Eastern reader. [Compare Werner, act iv. sc. 1, lines 380-382; and The Giaour, lines 21, 33.]

[fo] Which kindled by another's—.—[MS. D.]

[393] [Compare Childe Harold, Canto III. stanzas lxxii., lxxv. Once again the language and the sentiment recall Wordsworth's Tintern Abbey. (See Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 261, note 2.)]

[394] {613} If the reader will apply to his ear the sea-shell on his chimney-piece, he will be aware of what is alluded to. If the text should appear obscure, he will find in Gebir the same idea better expressed in two lines. The poem I never read, but have heard the lines quoted, by a more recondite reader—who seems to be of a different opinion from the editor of the Quarterly Review, who qualified it in his answer to the Critical Reviewer of his Juvenal, as trash of the worst and most insane description. It is to Mr. Landor, the author of Gebir, so qualified, and of some Latin poems, which vie with Martial or Catullus in obscenity, that the immaculate Mr. Southey addresses his declamation against impurity!

[These are the lines in Gebir to which Byron alludes—

"But I have sinuous shells of pearly hue.

* * * * *

Shake one and it awakens; then apply Its polisht lips to your attentive ear, And it remembers its august abodes, And murmurs as the ocean murmurs there."

Compare, too, The Excursion, bk. iv.—

"I have seen A curious child, who dwelt upon a tract Of inland ground, applying to his ear The convolutions of a smooth-lipped shell, To which, in silence hushed, his very soul Listened intently," etc.

Landor, in his Satire upon Satirists, 1836, p. 29, commenting on Wordsworth's alleged remark that he "would not give five shillings for all the poetry that Southey had written" (see Letters, 1900, iv. Appendix IX. pp. 483, 484), calls attention to this unacknowledged borrowing, "It would have been honester," he says, "and more decorous if the writer of the following verses had mentioned from what bar he drew his wire." According to H. C. Robinson (Diary, 1869, iii. 114), Wordsworth acknowledged no obligation to Landor's Gebir for the image of the sea-shell. "From his childhood the shell was familiar to him, etc. The 'Satire' seemed to give Wordsworth little annoyance."]

[395] {615}[In his Preface to Cantos I., II. of Childe Harold (Poetical Works, 1899, ii. 5), Byron relies on the authority of "Ariosto Thomson and Beattie" for the inclusion of droll or satirical "variations" in a serious poem. Nevertheless, Dallas prevailed on him to omit certain "ludicrous stanzas." It is to be regretted that no one suggested the excision of sections xix.-xxi. from the second canto of The Island.]

[396] Hobbes, the father of Locke's and other philosophy, was an inveterate smoker,—even to pipes beyond computation.

["Soon after dinner he [Hobbes] retired to his study, and had his candle, with ten or twelve pipes of tobacco laid by him; then, shutting his door, he fell to smoking, and thinking, and writing for several hours."—Memoirs of the Family of Cavendish, by White Kennet, D.D., 1708, pp. 14, 15.]

[fp] Yet they who love thee best prefer by far.—[MS. D. erased.]

[397] ["I shall now smoke two cigars, and get me to bed.... The Havannah are the best;—but neither are so pleasant as a hooka or chiboque."—Journal, December 6, 1813, Letters, 1898, ii. 368.]

[398] {616} This rough but jovial ceremony, used in crossing the line, has been so often and so well described, that it need not be more than alluded to.

[399] {617} "That will do for the marines, but the sailors won't believe it," is an old saying: and one of the few fragments of former jealousies which still survive (in jest only) between these gallant services.

[400] {619} Archidamus, King of Sparta, and son of Agesilaus, when he saw a machine invented for the casting of stones and darts, exclaimed that it was the "grave of valour." The same story has been told of some knights on the first application of gunpowder; but the original anecdote is in Plutarch. [The Greek is "[Greek: A)po/lolen, a)ndros a)reta/]," Plutarch's Scripta Moralia, 1839, i. 230.]

[fq] {621} To people in a small embarrassment.—[MS. D. erased.]

[401] {622} [Fletcher Christian, born 1763, was the fourth son of Charles Christian, an attorney, of Moreland Close, in the parish of Brigham, Cumberland. His family, which was of Manx extraction, was connected with the Christians of Ewanrigg, and the Curwens of Workington Hall. His brother Edward became Chief Justice of Ely, and was well known as the editor of Blackstones Commentaries. For purposes of verification (see An Answer to certain Assertions, etc., 1794, p. 9), Bligh described him as "aged 24 years, five feet nine inches high, blackish or very dark brown complexioned, dark brown hair, strong made, star tatowed on the left breast," etc. According to "Morrison's Journal," high words had passed between Bligh and Christian on more than one occasion, and, on the day before the mutiny, a question having arisen with regard to the disappearance of some cocoa-nuts, Christian was cross-examined by the captain as to his share of the plunder. "I really do not know, sir," he replied; "but I hope you do not think me so mean as to be guilty of stealing yours." "Yes," said Bligh, "you —— hound, I do think so, or you could have given a better account of them." It was after this offensive accusation that Christian determined, in the first instance, to quit the ship, and on the morning of April 28, 1788, finding the mate of the watch asleep, on the spur of the moment resolved to lay violent hands on the captain, and assume the command of the Bounty. The language attributed to Bligh reads like a translation into the vernacular, but if Christian kept his designs to himself, it is strange that they were immediately understood and acted upon by a body of impromptu conspirators. Testimony, whether written or spoken, with regard to the succession of events "in moments like to these," is worth very little; but it is pretty evident that Christian was a gentleman, and that Bligh's violent and unmannerly ratings were the immediate cause of the mutiny.

Contradictory accounts are given of Christian's death. It is generally believed that in the fourth year of the settlement on Pitcairn Island the Tahitians formed a plot to massacre the Englishmen, and that Christian was shot when at work in his plantation (The Mutineers, etc., by Lady Belcher, 1870, p. 163; The Mutiny, etc., by Rosalind A. Young, 1894, p. 28). On the other hand, Amasa Delano, in his Narrative of Voyages, etc. (Boston, 1817, cap. v. p. 140), asserts that Captain Mayhew Folger, who was the first to visit the island in 1808, "was very explicit in his inquiry at the time, as well as in his account of it to me, that they lived under Christian's government several years after they landed; that during the whole time they enjoyed tolerable harmony; that Christian became sick, and died a natural death." It stands to reason that the ex-pirate, Alexander Smith, who had developed into John Adams, the pious founder of a patriarchal colony, would be anxious to draw a veil over the early years of the settlement, and would satisfy the curiosity of visitors who were officers of the Royal Navy, as best he could, and as the spirit moved him.]

[fr] {625} The ruined remnant of the land's defeat.—[MS. D. erased.]

[402] {626}[Compare The Siege of Corinth, lines 438, 439, Poetical Works, 1900, iii. 467.]

[403] {629} Of this cave (which is no fiction) the original will be found in the ninth chapter of "Mariner's Account of the Tonga Islands" [1817, i. 267-279]. I have taken the poetical liberty to transplant it to Toobonai, the last island where any distinct account is left of Christian and his comrades.

[The following is the account given by Mariner: "On this island [Hoonga] there is a peculiar cavern, which was first discovered by a young chief, whilst diving after a turtle. The nature of this cavern will be better understood if we imagine a hollow rock rising sixty feet or more above the surface of the water, into the cavity of which there is no known entrance but one, and that is on the side of the rock, as low down as six feet under the water, into which it flows; and, consequently, the base of the cavern may be said to be the sea itself." Mariner seeing some young chiefs diving into the water one after another, and not rise again, he inquired of the last, ... what they were about? "'Follow me,'" said he, "'and I will take you where you have never been before....'" Mariner prepared to follow his companion, and, guided by the light reflected from his heels, entered the opening in the rock, and rose into the cavern. The light was sufficient, after remaining about five minutes, to show objects with some little distinctness; ... Nevertheless, as it was desirable to have a stronger light, Mariner dived out again, and, priming his pistol, tied plenty of gnatoo tight round it, and wrapped the whole up in a plantain-leaf: he directed an attendant to bring a torch in the same way. Thus prepared, he re-entered the cavern, unwrapped the gnatoo, fired it by the flash of the powder, and lighted the torch. "The place was now illuminated tolerably well.... It appeared (by guess) to be about forty feet wide in the main part, but it branched off, on one side, in two narrower portions. The medium height seemed also about forty feet. The roof was hung with stalactites in a very curious way, resembling, upon a cursory view, the Gothic arches and ornaments of an old church." According to one of the matabooles present, the entire family of a certain chief had, in former times, been condemned to death for conspiring against a rival tyrant—the chief to be taken out to sea and drowned, the rest of the family to be massacred. One of the chiefs daughters was a beautiful girl, to whom the youth who discovered the cave was attached. "He had long been enamoured of this young maiden, but had never dared to make her acquainted with the soft emotions of his heart, knowing that she was betrothed to a chief of higher rank and greater power, but now, ... no time was to be lost; he flew to her abode ... declared himself her deliverer if she would trust to his honour.... Soon her consenting hand was clasped in his: the shades of evening favoured their escape ... till her lover had brought a small canoe to a lonely part of the beach. In this they speedily embarked.... They soon arrived at the rock, he leaped into the water, and she, instructed by him, followed close after; they rose into the cavern, and rested from their fatigue, partaking of some refreshments which he had brought there for himself...." Here she remained, visited from time to time by her more fortunate Leander, until he was enabled to carry her off to the Fiji islands, where they dwelt till the death of the tyrant, when they returned to Vavaoo, "and lived long in peace and happiness."]

[404] {631} This may seem too minute for the general outline (in Mariner's Account) from which it is taken. But few men have travelled without seeing something of the kind—on land, that is. Without adverting to Ellora, in Mungo Park's last journal, he mentions having met with a rock or mountain so exactly resembling a Gothic cathedral, that only minute inspection could convince him that it was a work of nature.

[Ellora, a village in the Nizam's dominions, is thirteen miles north-west of Aurangabad. "It is famous for its rock-caves and temples. The chief building, called the kailas, ... is a great monolithic temple, isolated from surrounding rock, and carved outside as well as in.... It is said to have been built about the eighth century by Raja Edu of Ellichpur."—Hunter's Imperial Gazetteer of India, 1885, iv. 348-351. The passage in Mungo Park's Journal of a Mission to the Interior of Africa, 1815, p. 75, runs thus: "June 24th [1805],—Left Sullo, and travelled through a country beautiful beyond imagination, with all the possible diversities of rock, sometimes towering up like ruined castles, spires, pyramids, etc. We passed one place so like a ruined Gothic abbey, that we halted a little, before we could satisfy ourselves that the niches, windows, etc., were all natural rock."]

[405] [Byron's quadrisyllable was, probably, a poetic licence. There is, however, an obsolete plural, stalactitae, to be found in the works of John Woodward, M.D., Fossils of England, 1729, i. 155.]

[fs] {632} Where Love and Torquil might lie safe from men.—[MS. D. erased.]

[406] {633} The reader will recollect the epigram of the Greek anthology, or its translation into most of the modern languages—

"Whoe'er thou art, thy master see— He was, or is, or is to be."

[Byron is quoting from memory an "Illustration" in the notes to Collections from the Greek Anthology, by the Rev. Robert Bland, 1813, p. 402—

"Whoe'er thou art, thy Lord and master see. Thou wast my Slave, thou art, or thou shall be."

The couplet was written by George Granville, Lord Lansdowne (1667-1735), as an Inscription for a Figure representing the God of Love. (See The Genuine Works, etc., 1732, I. 129.)]

[407] {634} The tradition is attached to the story of Eloisa, that when her body was lowered into the grave of Abelard (who had been buried twenty years), he opened his arms to receive her.

[The story is told by Bayle, who quotes from a manuscript chronicle of Tours, preserved in the notes of Andreas Quercetanus, affixed to the Historia Calamitatum Abaelardi: "Eadem defuncta ad tumulam apertum depertata, maritus ejus qui multis diebus ante eam defunctus fuerat, elevatis brachiis eam recepit, et ita earn amplexatus brachia sua strinxit."—See Petri Abelardi Opera, Paris, 1616, ii. 1195.]

[ft] {636} Too late it might be still at least to die.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fu] {637} The crag as droop a bird without her young.—[MS. D. erased.]

[408] In Thibault's account of Frederick the Second of Prussia, there is a singular relation of a young Frenchman, who with his mistress appeared to be of some rank. He enlisted and deserted at Schweidnitz; and after a desperate resistance was retaken, having killed an officer, who attempted to seize him after he was wounded, by the discharge of his musket loaded with a button of his uniform. Some circumstances on his court-martial raised a great interest amongst his judges, who wished to discover his real situation in life, which he offered to disclose, but to the king only, to whom he requested permission to write. This was refused, and Frederic was filled with the greatest indignation, from baffled curiosity or some other motive, when he understood that his request had been denied. [Mes Souvenirs de vingt ans de sejour a Berlin, ou Frederic Le Grand, etc., Paris, 1804, iv. 145-150.]

[fv] He tore a silver vest——.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fw] {639} Their hollow shrine——.—[MS. D. erased.]

[fx]

As only a yet infant——.—[MS. D.] {As only an infantine World——. {As only a yet unweaned World——.—[Alternative readings. MS. D.]

THE END