“There were two fathers in this ghastly crew,
      And with them their two sons, of whom the one
    Was more robust and hardy to the view,
      But he died early; and when he was gone,
    His nearest messmate told his sire, who threw
      One glance on him, and said, ’Heaven’s will be done,
    I can do nothing,’ and he saw him thrown
    Into the deep without a tear or groan.

    “The other father had a weaklier child,
      Of a soft cheek, and aspect delicate;
    But the boy bore up long, and with a mild
      And patient spirit held aloof his fate;
    Little be said, and now and then he smiled,
      As if to win a part from off the weight
    He saw increasing on his father’s heart,
    With the deep, deadly thought, that they must part.

    “And o’er him bent his sire, and never raised
      His eyes from off his face, but wiped the foam
    From his pale lips, and ever on him gazed,
      And when the wish’d-for shower at length was come,
    And the boy’s eyes, which the dull film half glazed,
      Brighten’d, and for a moment seem’d to roam,
    He squeezed from out a rag some drops of rain
    Into his dying child’s mouth—­but in vain.

    “The boy expired—­the father held the clay,
      And look’d upon it long, and when at last
    Death left no doubt, and the dead burden lay
      Stiff on his heart, and pulse and hope were past,
    He watch’d it wistfully, until away
     ’Twas borne by the rude wave wherein ’twas cast: 
    Then he himself sunk down all dumb and shivering,
    And gave no sign of life, save his limbs quivering.”

DON JUAN, CANTO II.

In the collection of “Shipwrecks and Disasters at Sea,” to which Lord Byron so skilfully had recourse for the technical knowledge and facts out of which he has composed his own powerful description, the reader will find the account of the loss of the Juno here referred to.]

[Footnote 25:  This elegy is in his first (unpublished) volume.]

[Footnote 26:  See page 25.]

[Footnote 27:  For the display of his declamatory powers, on the speech-days, he selected always the most vehement passages,—­such as the speech of Zanga over the body of Alonzo, and Lear’s address to the storm.  On one of these public occasions, when it was arranged that he should take the part of Drances, and young Peel that of Turnus, Lord Byron suddenly changed his mind, and preferred the speech of Latinus,—­fearing, it was supposed, some ridicule from the inappropriate taunt of Turnus, “Ventosa in lingua, pedibusque fugacibus istis.”]

[Footnote 28:  His letters to Mr. Sinclair, in return, are unluckily lost,—­one of them, as this gentleman tells me, having been highly characteristic of the jealous sensitiveness of his noble schoolfellow, being written under the impression of some ideal slight, and beginning, angrily, “Sir.”]