The cypress weeps upon thy tomb:
But when the stars unfold their leaves
Amid their bow'rs of purple gloom,
More fervently my spirit grieves;
And as the rainbow sheds its light
In fairy hues upon the sea,
So this cold world appears more bright
When pensive Memory thinks of thee!


G.R.C.

* * * * *


LORD BYRON.

Translation of a letter written by Lord Byron, in Greek and Italian, to
the Pacha of Patras.[5]

Highness.--A vessel containing several of my friends and servants,
having been captured and conducted by a Turkish frigate to your
fortresses, was released by your highness' command. I return you thanks,
not for releasing a vessel bearing a neutral flag, and which being under
British protection, no one had a right to detain; but for having treated
my friends with great courtesy while at your disposal. Hoping it may not
be unacceptable to your highness, I have requested the Greek Governor of
this place to grant me four Turkish prisoners; which has been readily
conceded. I send them therefore, free, to your highness, in order to