ells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossom'd trees,

* * * * *

And peasant girls, with deep blue eyes,
And hands which offer early flowers,
Walk smiling o'er this paradise.

[Illustration]

THE PRISONER OF CHILLON AND THE BIRD.

"Thro' the crevice where it came,
That bird was perch'd, as fond and tame,
And tamer than upon the tree;
A lovely bird, with azure wings,
And song that said a thousand things,
And seem'd to say them all for me!"
(_The Prisoner of Chillon._)

or, looking backwards through a score of centuries,

I see before me the Gladiator lie:
He leans upon his hand--his manly brow
Consents to death, but conquers agony,
And his droop'd head sinks gradually low--
And through his side the last drops, ebbing slow
From the red gash, fall heavy, one by one,
Like the first of a thunder-shower; and now
The arena swims around him--he is gone,
Ere ceased the inhuman shout which hail'd the wretch who won.

Byron is emphatically a citizen of the world, who has "not only painted
the environs, but reflected the passions and aspirations of every scene
which he visualizes." And it is this magic power of conveying the
authentic impression of an actual occurrence, which renders his most
recondite situations so thrilling,--which breathes a Western vigour into
the scented air of the Orient, and thrills with poignant pathos through
the horrors of the _Prisoner of Chillon_.

A light broke in upon my brain--
It was the carol of a bird;
It ceased, and then it came again,
The sweetest song ear ever heard:
And mine was thankful till my eyes
Ran over with the glad surprise,
And they that moment could not see
I was the mate of misery;
But then by dull degrees came back
My senses to their wonted track;
I saw the dungeon walls and floor
Close slowly round me as before,
I saw the glimmer of the sun
Creeping as it before had done;
But through the crevice where it came
That bird was perch'd, as fond and tame,
And tamer than upon the tree;
A lovely bird, with azure wings,
And song that said a thousand things,
And seem'd to say them all for me!
I never saw its like before,
I ne'er shall see its likeness more:
It seem'd like me to want a mate,
But was not half so desolate,
And