XXII.

On sloping mounds, or in the vale beneath,
Are domes where whilome kings did make repair;
But now the wild flowers round them only breathe;
Yet ruined splendor still is lingering there.
And yonder towers the Prince's palace fair:
There thou too, Vathek !* England's wealthiest son,
Once formed thy Paradise, as not aware

When wanton Wealth her mightiest deeds hath

done,

Meek Peace voluptuous lures was ever wont to shun.

XXIII.

Here didst thou dwell, here schemes of pleasure

plan,

Beneath yon mountain's ever beauteous brow:

But now, as if a thing unblest by Man,

Thy fairy dwelling is as lone as thou!
Here giant weeds a passage scarce allow
To halls deserted, portals gaping wide;
Fresh lessons to the thinking bosom, how
Vain are the pleasaunces on earth supplied;
Swept into wrecks anon by Time's ungentle tide!

["Vathek" (says Byron, in one of his diaries)" was one of the tales I had a very early admiration of. For correctness of costume, beauty of description, and power of imagination, it far surpasses all European imitations; and bears such marks of originality, that those who have visited the East will find some difficulty in believing it to be more than a translation. As an eastern tale, even Rasselas must bow before it: his 'happy valley' will not bear a comparison with the 'Hall of Eblis. "]

XXIV.

Behold the hall where chiefs were late convened !*

Oh! dome displeasing unto British eye!

With diadem hight foolscap, lo! a fiend,

A little fiend that scoffs incessantly,

There sits in parchment robe arrayed, and by
His side is hung a seal and sable scroll,

Where blazoned glare names known to chivalry, And sundry signatures adorn the roll, [soul.† Whereat the Urchin points and laughs with all his

*The Convention of Cintra was signed in the palace of the Marchese Marialva.- [Byron was mistaken. "The armistice, the negotiations, the convention itself, and the execution of its provisions, were all commenced, conducted, and concluded, at the distance of thirty miles from Cintra, with which place they had not the slightest connection, political, military, or local." Napier's History of the Peninsular War.]

†The passage stood differently in the original MS. The foling verses Byron omitted at the entreaty of his friends:

In golden characters right well designed,
First on the list appeareth one "Junot; "
Then certain other glorious names we find,
Which rhyme compelleth me to place below:
Dull victors! baffled by a vanquished foe,
Wheedled by conynge tongues of laurels due,
Stand, worthy of each other, in a row -
Sir Arthur, Harry, and the dizzard Hew
Dalrymple, seely wight, sore dupe of t' other tew.
Convention is the dwarfish demon styled
That foiled the knights in Marialva's dome:
Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled,
And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom.
For well I wot, when first the news did come,
That Vimiera's field by Gaul was lost,
For paragraph ne paper scarce had room,
Such Pæans teemed for our triumphant host,
In Courier, Chronicle, and eke in Morning Post:

XXV.

Convention is the dwarfish demon styled
That foiled the knights in Marialva's dome:
Of brains (if brains they had) he them beguiled,
And turned a nation's shallow joy to gloom.
Here Folly dashed to earth the victor's plume,
And Policy regained what arms had lost:
For chiefs like ours in vain may laurels bloom!
Woe to the conquering, not the conquered host,
Since baffled Triumph droops on Lusitania's coast!

But when Convention sent his handy-work,
Pens, tongues, feet, hands, combined in wild uproar;
Mayor, aldermen, laid down the uplifted fork;
The Bench of Bishops half forgot to snore;

Stern Cobbett, who for one whole week forbore

To question aught, once more with transport leapt,

And bit his devilish quill agen, and swore

With foe such treaty never should be kept,

Then burst the blatant beast, and roared, and raged, and —

Thus unto Heaven appealed the people: Heaven,
Which loves the lieges of our gracious King,
Decreed, that, ere our generals were forgiven,
Inquiry should be held about the thing.
But Mercy cloaked the babes beneath her wing;
And as they spared our foes, so spared we them;
(Where was the pity of our sires for Byng? †)

Yet knaves, not idiots, should the law condemn;

Then live, ye gallant knights! and bless your Judges' phlegm!

slept!

*"Blatant beast"— a figure for the mob, I think first used by Smol lett in his "Adventures of an Atom." Horace has the "bellua multorum capitum:" in England fortunately enough, the illustrious mobility have not even one.

By this query it is not meant that our foolish generals should have been shot, but that Byng might have been spared, though the one suffered and the others escaped, probably for Candide's reason," pour encourager les autres."

XXVI.

And ever since that martial synod met,
Britannia sickens, Cintra! at thy name;
And folks in office at the mention fret,

And fain would blush, if blush they could, for shame. How will posterity the deed proclaim!

Will not our own and fellow-nations sneer,

To view these champions cheated of their fame, By foes in fight o'erthrown, yet victors here, Where Scorn her finger points through many a coming year?

XXVII.

So deemed the Childe, as o'er the mountains he Did take his way in solitary guise:

Sweet was the scene, yet soon he thought to flee, More restless than the swallow in the skies: Though here awhile he learned to moralize, For Meditation fixed at times on him; And conscious Reason whispered to despise His early youth, misspent in maddest whim; But as he gazed on truth his aching eyes grew dim.

XXVIII.

To horse! to horse!* he quits, for ever quits
A scene of peace, though soothing to his soul:

*["After remaining ten days in Lisbon, we sent our baggage and part of our servants by sea to Gibraltar, and travelled on horseback to Seville; a distance of nearly four hundred miles. The horses are excellent: we rode seventy miles a-day. Eggs and wine, and hard beds, are all the accommodation we found, and, in such torrid weather, quite enough."— B. Letters, 1809.]

Again he rouses from his moping fits,

But seeks not now the harlot and the bowl.
Onward he flies, nor fixed as yet the goal
Where he shall rest him on his pilgrimage;
And o'er him many changing scenes must roll
Ere toil his thirst for travel can assuage,

Or he shall calm his breast, or learn experience sage.

XXIX.

Yet Mafra shall one moment claim delay,

Where dwelt of yore the Lusians' luckless queen; And church and court did mingle their array, And mass and revel were alternate seen; Lordlings and freres

ill-sorted fry I ween!

But here the Babylonian whore hath built †

*

A dome, where flaunts she in such glorious sheen, That men forget the blood which she hath spilt, And bow the knee to Pomp that loves to varnish guilt.

["Her luckless Majesty went subsequently mad; and Dr. Willis, who so dexterously cudgelled kingly pericraniums, could make nothing of hers."-Byron MS. The Queen labored under a melancholy kind of derangement, from which she never recovered. She died in Brazil in 1816.]

†The extent of Mafra is prodigious: it contains a palace, convent, and most superb church. The six organs are the most beautiful I ever beheld, in point of decoration: we did not hear them, but were told that their tones were correspondent to their splendor. Mafra is termed the Escurial of Portugal. [" About ten miles to the right of Cintra," says Byron, in a letter to his mother, "is the palace of Mafra, the boast of Portugal, as it might be of any country, in point of magnificence, without elegance. There is a convent annexed: the monks, who possess large revenues, are courteous enough, and understand Latin;