Street, Westminster, where it lay in state during Friday and Saturday, the 9th and 10th of July, and on the following Monday the funeral procession took place.  Leaving Westminster at eleven o’clock in the morning, attended by most of his Lordship’s personal friends and by the carriages of several persons of rank, it proceeded through various streets of the metropolis towards the North Road.  At Pancras Church, the ceremonial of the procession being at an end, the carriages returned; and the hearse continued its way, by slow stages, to Nottingham.

It was on Friday the 16th of July that, in the small village church of Hucknall, the last duties were paid to the remains of Byron, by depositing them, close to those of his mother, in the family vault.  Exactly on the same day of the same month in the preceding year, he had said, it will be recollected, despondingly, to Count Gamba, “Where shall we be in another year?” The gentleman to whom this foreboding speech was addressed paid a visit, some months after the interment, to Hucknall, and was much struck, as I have heard, on approaching the village, by the strong likeness it seemed to him to bear to his lost friend’s melancholy deathplace, Missolonghi.

On a tablet of white marble in the chancel of the Church of Hucknall is the following inscription:—­

IN THE VAULT BENEATH, WHERE MANY OF HIS ANCESTORS AND HIS MOTHER ARE BURIED, LIE THE REMAINS OF GEORGE GORDON NOEL BYRON, LORD BYRON, OF ROCHDALE, IN THE COUNTY OF LANCASTER, THE AUTHOR OF “CHILDE HAROLD’S PILGRIMAGE.”  HE WAS BORN IN LONDON ON THE 22D OF JANUARY, 1788.

HE DIED AT MISSOLONGHI, IN WESTERN GREECE, ON THE 19TH OF APRIL, 1824, ENGAGED IN THE GLORIOUS ATTEMPT TO RESTORE THAT COUNTRY TO HER ANCIENT FREEDOM AND RENOWN.

* * * * *

  HIS SISTER, THE HONOURABLE
  AUGUSTA MARIA LEIGH,
  PLACED THIS TABLET TO HIS MEMORY.

From among the tributes that have been offered, in prose and verse, and in almost every language of Europe, to his memory, I shall select two which appear to me worthy of peculiar notice, as being, one of them,—­so far as my limited scholarship will allow me to judge,—­a simple and happy imitation of those laudatory inscriptions with which the Greece of other times honoured the tombs of her heroes; and the other as being the production of a pen, once engaged controversially against Byron, but not the less ready, as these affecting verses prove, to offer the homage of a manly sorrow and admiration at his grave.

[Greek: 

  Eis
  Ton en te Helladi teleutesanta
  Poieten

* * * * *

  Ou to zen tanaon biou euklees oud’ enarithmein
    Arxaiax progonon eunxneon aretas
  Ton d’ eudaimonias moir’ amphepei, hosper apanton
    Aien aristeuon gignetai athanatos.—­
  Eudeis oun su, teknon, xariton ear? ouk eti thallei
    Akmaios meleon hedupnoon stephanos?—­
  Alla teon, tripophete, moron penphousin Aphene,
    Mousai, patris, Ares, Ellas, eleupheria.[1]]