o 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]]

[Footnote 1: By John Williams, Esq.--The following translation of
this inscription will not be unacceptable to my readers:--

"Not length of life--not an illustrious birth,
Rich with the noblest blood of all the earth;--
Nought can avail, save deeds of high emprize,
Our mortal being to immo