which he cultivated his talents,-should make us cautious how we pronounce on the moral qualities of individual character, from the expression of opinions which are only speculative and abstract. It has been well observed, that we may know what Heresy is, but God only can determine who is an heretic. The Faith, which saves and sanctifies, is in the Heart, and for the errors of the understanding it cannot be arraigned. No man, in the case of another, and perhaps not in his own, can be certain whence error proceedeth. Those who adopt erroneous systems, with a full view of their mischievous consequences, need discipline, not argument; they must be made better men, before they can become wiser.

Conduct so much better than what many considered the heretical opinions of the poet, could not fail of a reaction upon his principles; accordingly, we find him lately expressing a "doubt, if doubt be doubt." Many, perhaps, have read this passage with a different feeling from what we now express. We give it entire.

"When Bishop Berkeley said, there was no matter,'

And prov'd it, 'twas no matter what he said;
They say, his system 'tis in vain to batter,
Too subtle for the airiest human head;
And yet, who can believe it? I would shatter
Gladly all matters down to stone or lead,
Or adamant, to find the world a spirit,
And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

"What a sublime discovery 'twas to make, the
Universe universal Egotism,

That all's ideal-all ourselves: I'll stake the

World (be it what you will) that that's no schism.
Ob, Doubt!-if thou be'st Doubt, for which some take thee,
But which I doubt extremely, -thou sole prism
Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit!
Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

"For ever and anon comes Indigestion,

(Not the most dainty Ariel,') and perplexes

Our soarings with another sort of question:
And that which after all my spirit vexes,

Is, that I find no spot where man can rest eye on,
Without confusion of the sorts and sexes,

Of beings, stars, and this unriddled wonder

The World, which AT THE WORST'S A GLORIOUS BLUNDER.

delicacy he refrained from taking any active part in promoting the subscription; for, as they were both young, he feared, from the well-known censoriousness of the world, he might rather injure, than serve her, by so doing. The paper was a draft on his banker for fifty pounds.

"If it be Chance, or if it be according

To the old Text, still better:-lest it should
Turn out so, we'll say nothing 'gainst the wording,
As several people think such hazards rude,-
They're right; our days are too brief for affording
Space to dispute what no one ever could
Decide; and every body one day will

Know very clearly-or at least lie still.

"And, therefore, will I leave off metaphysical

Discussion, which is neither here nor there:
If I agree that what is, is; then this I call
Being quite perspicuous, and extremely fair."

DON JUAN, Canto XI.

Though somewhat qualified by the characteristic levity of the work, there is in this passage more than meets the eye or ear. The passage is, however, not adapted for vulgar apprehension. It is as impossible, as it is unnecessary, for all men to be philosophers; and it is probable, that most men, upon a speculative subject, misunderstand the terminology of the system discussed or referred to; and thence form erroneous and injurious notions respecting the writer's opinions, and their effect upon society. "The first range of hills," says Mr. Coleridge," that encircles the scanty vale of human life, is the horizon for the majority of its inhabitants. On its ridges, the common sun is born and departs. From them the stars rise, and, touching them, they vanish. By the many, even this range, the natural limit and bulwark of the vale, is but imperfectly known: its higher ascents are too often hidden by mists and clouds from uncultivated swamps, which few have courage or curiosity to penetrate. To the multitude below, these vapours appear, now as the dark haunts of terrific agents, on which none may intrude with impunity; and now all a-glow, with colours not their own, they are gazed at, as the splendid palaces of happiness and power. But, in all ages, there have been a few, who, measuring and sounding the rivers of the vale, at the feet of their furthest inaccessible falls, have learnt, that the sources must be far higher and far inward; a few, who, even in the level streams, have detected elements, which neither the vale itself, or the surrounding mountains, contained, or could supply."

But not only the multitude in the deep vale are impercipient of the truths of philosophy; they are unintelligible to many men of the most learned and cultivated classes. These classes are too often content with words instead of things, and neglect to refer all notions to that immediate consciousness, in which the certainty of all our knowledge is substantiated; and

which is independent of external signs, and is made intelligible by a language entirely spiritual. Hence, things revealed to babes, are often hidden from them. Their errors, however, are chiefly dialectic in their source, and frequently extend no farther than to the expression of opinion. It is very seldom that they become principles. Thus, we find many young men of talent, who have opinions upon every subject, but no guiding principle upon any, and whose conduct is altogether benevolent, the while they profess a belief in the universal selfishness of their species. And here, we must crave pardon for having hitherto used the words Opinion and Principle in somewhat a lax sense, and with interchanging signification. There are three words, the meaning of which ought to be kept distinct,-Opinion, Sentiment, Principle. The first is merely an emanation from the head,-an impression from without upon the mind, and which the mind reflects, without any supervenient warmth from itself. A sentiment possesses a supervention from the heart; it is not a mere matter of cold judgment, but partakes of the zeal of the affections, and kindles with the sympathies of our common nature. A principle is combined of both these ; and, according to the nature of the sympathies and affections, is good or evil; and directs and moulds individual conduct and character. Opinion, or sentiment, however, may exist separately; they may exist also in opposition: the feelings of the heart may war against the suggestions of the head. A good action may be accompanied with the bitterness of phrase, and the harshness of demeanour. Thus, the virtues of a man may be coloured or tinged with the influence of speculative opinions, which, if reduced into practical principles, might be most pernicious; but, wanting the co-operation of the heart, only give a misanthropic appearance to the most milky human kindness, and shade, sometimes gracefully, the most brilliant of earthly spirits, acting as a foil unto them, by which their native glory is but the more exemplified by comparison, and illustrated by contrast. No. The errors of Lord Byron," says Sir Walter Scott, "arose neither from depravity of heart, for nature had not committed the anomaly of uniting to such extraordinary talents an imperfect moral sense,-nor from feelings dead to the admiration of virtue.”

Of an ancient, noble, and illustrious stock, at the age of about four years, our noble poet became entitled to its honours and estates. An ancestral calamity, however, had cast an oblivious shadow, as of death, over the title and possessions of the family. Newstead Abbey was the dwelling of a noble recluse, whose gloom thus occasioned was deepened, and his destiny accelerated, by the death of an only son. Whether

the remembrance of the calamity alluded to had any influence on the mind of his descendant, there are no documents to avouch. It has been said, that it contributed to, or perhaps originated, that morbid humour in his eye, which delighted to behold things darkly; assuredly, it was not of a nature to give him any very favourable opinion of human life. Like the icy wind of Death, it had already bleakly smitten "the hall of his fathers,"-"the hollow winds whistled through its battlements," and

"In its once-smiling garden, the hemlock and thistle

Had choked up the rose which late bloomed in the way."

The SARSAR might have pierced his susceptible soul prematurely with the decay which had left, in the dwelling of his ancestors, only "the escutcheon and shield,-sad vestiges, which rattled with every blast." Between it and him there was a sympathy of fate, perchance not unfelt by him. To counteract the sombre influence of this calamity, high associations were connected with Newstead Abbey. The tree of his genealogy flourished, and bore good fruit, in feudal times. Two of the Byrons fell at the battle of Cressy. Sir John de Byron gave good assistance, in the battle of Bosworth, to the Earl of Richmond; of him a generous action is recorded, and which none was so well calculated to imitate as the subject of our brief memoir. Sir Nicholas Byron distinguished himself in the royal cause, in the wars between Charles the First and the Parliament. His brother, Sir John, had eleven sons, distinguished for their loyalty to that king; and Sir Thomas, a younger son, commanded the Prince of Wales's regiment at Hopton Heath. At the battles of Edge-hill and Newbury, they were conspicuous; and at the conflict of Marston Moor, four out of seven brothers fell in defence of the royal cause.

To these associations, the imagination of Lord Byron was not insensible; and he confessed their power in his " Adieu to Newstead Abbey," written at the age of fifteen. He refers to his ancestors in the following stanzas:

"No more doth old Robert, with heart-stringing numbers,
Raise a flame in the breast for the war-laurel'd wreath;
Near Askalon's towers, John of Horistan slumbers,
Unnerv'd is the hand of his minstrel by death.
Paul and Hubert, too, sleep in the valley of Cressy;
For the safety of Edward and England they fell;
My fathers, the tears of your country redress ye;
How ye fought, how you died! still her annals can tell.

"On Marston, with Rupert, 'gainst traitors contending,
Four brothers enrich'd with their blood the bleak field,
For the rights of a monarch their country defending,

Till death their attachment to royalty seal'd.
Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant, departing
From the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu!
Abroad, or at home, your remembrance imparting
New courage, he'll think upon glory and you.

Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation,
'Tis nature, not fear, that excites his regret ;
Far distant he goes, with the same emulation,
The fame of his fathers he ne'er can forget.
That fame and that memory still will we cherish;
He vows that he ne'er will disgrace your renown;
Like you will he live, or like you will he perish;

When decay'd, may he mingle his dust with your own.”

A great part of his lordship's early life was passed among the wild and tumulose scenery of Scotland, which, we find, had congenial charms for his lofty and abrupt genius ;

Nature herself for him had no delight,

Till he embraced her, where she sat renown'd,
In fell and cave, on rock and cloud-capp'd height,
And cataract-all majesty and might,—

In HIS OWN MOUNTAIN LAND of many isles,
Proud Caledon.

Yes, we may say, "his own mountain land;" himself is our authority.

"But, somehow, it may seem a school-boy's whine,

But yet I seek not to be grand nor witty;

But I am half a Scot by birth, and bred

A whole one,

and my heart flies to my head."

If the haunting memory of that calamity gave that early tint to his opinions, the recollections of his illustrious ancestry modified his sentiments; and, to the sublimities wherewith nature was enthroned among the "Caledonian Alps," he was indebted for that love which he bore for the great and the picturesque of inanimate Creation. The hue of these opinions was probably somewhat deepened by his unfortunate attachment to the daughter of the victim of that fatal resentment, at which we have but obscurely hinted, unwilling to notice the occurrence any further than is necessary to illustrate the positions we advance. The occurrence, probably, had not so much effect upon his opinions, as the bar which it