Thou incubus ! Thou nightmare! Of seven sons,

i. The Deformed—a drama.—B. Pisa, 1822.

Out,

1. [Moore (Life, p. 13) quotes these lines in connection with a passage in Byron's "Memoranda," where, in speaking of his own sensitiveness on the subject of his deformed foot, he described the feeling of horror and humiliation that came over him, when his mother, in one of her fits of passion, called him "a lame brat!" "It may be questioned," he adds, "whether that whole drama [The Deformed Transformed was not indebted for its origin to that single recollection." Byron's early letters (e.g. November 2, 11, 17, 1804, Letters, 1898, i. 41, 45, 48) are full of complaints of his mother's "eccentric behaviour," her "fits of phrenzy," her "caprices," passions," and so forth; and there is convincing proof-see Life, pp. 28, 306; Letters, 1898, ii. 122 (incident at Bellingham's execution); Letters, 1901, vi. 179 (Le Diable Boiteux)-that he regarded the contraction of the muscles of his legs as a more or less repulsive deformity. And yet, to quote one of a hundred testimonies,-" with regard to Lord Byron's features, Mr. Mathews observed, that he was the only man he ever contemplated, to whom he felt disposed to apply the word beautiful" (Memoirs of Charles Mathews, 1838, ii. 380). The looker-on or the consoler computes the magnitude and the liberality of the compensation. The sufferer thinks only of his sufferings.]

But as thou hast—hence, hence—and do thy best!
That back of thine may bear its burthen; 'tis
More high, if not so broad as that of others.

Arn. It bears its burthen ;-but, my heart! Will it Sustain that which you lay upon it, Mother?

I love, or, at the least, I loved you: nothing
Save You, in nature, can love aught like me.
You nursed me-do not kill me!

Bert.

ΙΟ

Yes I nursed thee,

Because thou wert my first-born, and I knew not
If there would be another unlike thee,

That monstrous sport of Nature. But get hence,
And gather wood!1

Arn.
I will but when I bring it,
Speak to me kindly. Though my brothers are
So beautiful and lusty, and as free

As the free chase they follow, do not spurn me:
Our milk has been the same.

Bert.
As is the hedgehog's, 20
Which sucks at midnight from the wholesome dam

Of the young bull, until the milkmaid finds
The nipple, next day, sore, and udder dry.
Call not thy brothers brethren! Call me not
Mother; for if I brought thee forth, it was
As foolish hens at times hatch vipers, by
Sitting upon strange eggs. Out, urchin, out!

Arn. (solus). Oh, mother!

must do

Her bidding;-wearily but willingly
I would fulfil it, could I only hope

[Exit BERTHA. She is gone, and I

A kind word in return. What shall I do?

30

[ARNOLD begins to cut wood: in doing this he wounds

one of his hands.

My labour for the day is over now.

Accurséd be this blood that flows so fast;

1. [So, too, Prospero to Caliban, Tempest, act i. sc. 2, line 309, etc.]

For double curses will be my meed now

At home-What home? I have no home, no kin,
No kind-not made like other creatures, or

To share their sports or pleasures. Must I bleed, too, Like them? Oh, that each drop which falls to earth Would rise a snake to sting them, as they have stung

me!

Or that the Devil, to whom they liken me,
Would aid his likeness! If I must partake
His form, why not his power? Is it because
I have not his will too? For one kind word
From her who bore me would still reconcile me
Even to this hateful aspect. Let me wash
The wound.

40

[ARNOLD goes to a spring, and stoops to wash his
hand: he starts back.

They are right; and Nature's mirror shows me,
What she hath made me. I will not look on it

Again, and scarce dare think on't. Hideous wretch
That I am! The very waters mock me with
My horrid shadow-like a demon placed
Deep in the fountain to scare back the cattle
From drinking therein.

And shall I live on,

50

[He pauses.

A burden to the earth, myself, and shame
Unto what brought me into life? Thou blood,
Which flowest so freely from a scratch, let me
Try if thou wilt not, in a fuller stream,
Pour forth my woes for ever with thyself
On earth, to which I will restore, at once,
This hateful compound of her atoms, and
Resolve back to her elements, and take
The shape of any reptile save myself,
And make a world for myriads of new worms!
This knife! now let me prove if it will sever
This withered slip of Nature's nightshade-my
Vile form-from the creation, as it hath

1. [Compare

44

Have not partook oppression."

60

Marino Faliero, act i. sc. 2, line 468,
Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 362, note 1.]

The green bough from the forest.

[ARNOLD places the knife in the ground, with the point

upwards.

Now 'tis set,

And I can fall upon it. Yet one glance

On the fair day, which sees no foul thing like
Myself, and the sweet sun which warmed me, but
In vain. The birds-how joyously they sing !
So let them, for I would not be lamented:
But let their merriest notes be Arnold's knell ;
The fallen leaves my monument; the murmur
Of the near fountain my sole elegy.

Now, knife, stand firmly, as I fain would fall!

70

[As he rushes to throw himself upon the knife, his eye
is suddenly caught by the fountain, which seems
in motion.

The fountain moves without a wind: but shall
The ripple of a spring change my resolve?
No. Yet it moves again! The waters stir,
Not as with air, but by some subterrane
And rocking Power of the internal world.
What's here? A mist! No more?—

80

[A cloud comes from the fountain. He stands gazing upon it: it is dispelled, and a tall black man comes towards him.1

So many men are that

Which is so called or thought, that you may add me
To which you please, without much wrong to either.
But come you wish to kill yourself;-pursue
Your purpose.

Arn.

You have interrupted me.

Stran. What is that resolution which can e'er

90

1. [Compare the story of the philosopher Jamblichus and the raising of Eros and Anteros from their "fountain-dwellings."-Manfred, act ii. sc. 2, line 93, Poetical Works, 1901, iv. 105, note 2.]

Be interrupted? If I be the devil

You deem, a single moment would have made you
Mine, and for ever, by your suicide;

And yet my coming saves you.

Arn.

I said not

You were the Demon, but that your approach

Was like one.

Stran.
With him (and you seem scarce used to such high
Society) you can't tell how he approaches;
And for his aspect, look upon the fountain,
And then on me, and judge which of us twain
Looks likest what the boors believe to be
Their cloven-footed terror.

Unless you keep company

Arn.
Do you dare you
To taunt me with my born deformity?

Stran. Were I to taunt a buffalo with this
Cloven foot of thine, or the swift dromedary
With thy Sublime of Humps, the animals
Would revel in the compliment. And yet

100

Both beings are more swift, more strong, more mighty In action and endurance than thyself,

And all the fierce and fair of the same kind

With thee. Thy form is natural: 'twas only
Nature's mistaken largess to bestow

The gifts which are of others upon man.

IIO

Arn. Give me the strength then of the buffalo's foot," When he spurns high the dust, beholding his

Near enemy; or let me have the long

And patient swiftness of the desert-ship,
The helmless dromedary and I'll bear i

Thy fiendish sarcasm with a saintly patience.
Stran. I will.

Arn. (with surprise). Thou canst?
Stran.

aught else?

Arn. Thou mockest me.

Stran.

Perhaps. Would you

120

Not I. Why should I mock

What all are mocking? That's poor sport, methinks.

i. Give me the strength of the buffalo's foot (which marks me).—[MS.]

ii. The sailless dromedary

--[MS.]

--.

VOL. V.

2 I