deep into your heart; you never
Saw day go down upon your native spires
So calmly with its gold and crimson glory,
And after dreaming a disturbed vision
Of them and theirs, awoke and found them not.

All this speaks of the voluntary exile's own regrets, and awakens
sympathy for the anguish which pride concealed, but unable to
repress, gave vent to in the imagined sufferings of one that was to
him as Hecuba.

It was at Pisa that Werner, or The Inheritance, a tragedy, was
written, or at least completed. It is taken entirely from the
German's tale, Kruitzner, published many years before, by one of the
Miss Lees, in their Canterbury Tales. So far back as 1815, Byron
began a drama upon the same subject, and nearly completed an act when
he was interrupted. "I have adopted," he says himself, "the
characters, plan, and even the language of many parts of this story";
an acknowledgment which exempts it from that kind of criticism to
which his principal works are herein subjected.

But The Deformed Transformed, which was also written at Pisa, is,
though confessedly an imitation of Goethe's Faust, substantially an
original work. In the opinion of Mr Moore, it probably owes
something to the author's painful sensibility to the defect in his
own foot; an accident which must, from the acuteness with which he
felt it, have essentially contributed to enable him to comprehend and
to express the envy of those afflicted with irremediable exceptions
to the ordinary course of fortune, or who have been amerced by nature
of their fair proportions. But save only a part of the first scene,
the sketch will not rank among the felicitous works of the poet. It
was intended to be a satire--probably, at least--but it is only a
fragment--a failure.

Hitherto I have not noticed Don Juan otherwise than incidentally. It
was commenced in Venice, and afterward continued at intervals to the
end of the sixteenth canto, until the author left Pisa, when it was
not resumed, at least no more has been published. Strong objections
have been made to its moral tendency; but, in the opinion of many, it
is the poet's masterpiece, and undoubtedly it displays all the
variety of his powers, combined with a quaint playfulness not found
to an equal degree in any other of his works. The serious and
pathetic portions are exquisitely beautiful; the descriptive have all
the distinctness of the best pictures in Childe Harold, and are,
moreover, generally drawn