The Corsair

Question

John Murray highlights Gifford repeating stanzas from memory. What specific qualities of Byron's poetry, as implied by this detail, would prompt such a deep, personal response from a critic, moving beyond mere intellectual approval?

Synthesized answer

John Murray highlights Gifford repeating stanzas from memory, stating it was something he had "never known him do before" [1]. This deeply personal response suggests that Byron's poetry, as exemplified by the poem in question, evoked a powerful emotional connection in the critic that went beyond intellectual appreciation. The text mentions that Byron "rest[s] most upon the warm feeling it has created in Gifford's critic heart" [1], indicating that the poem's ability to generate strong emotion in Gifford was highly valued.

While the passages do not explicitly state what specific qualities of Byron's poetry prompted this deep response, they do provide clues about the impact of his work. The poem in question caused a "ferment" and unprecedented sales of 10,000 copies on its publication day [1]. Critics like Mr. Moore, Mr. Hammond, Mr. Heber, and D'Israeli declared their "unlimited approbation" [1]. The description of Conrad's character in [Passage 2] and [Passage 5] suggests a complex portrayal, with elements of a proud, distant demeanor ("lofty port, the distant mien") that also possessed an ability to "win" others through "Kindness" and a "deep yet tender melody of tone" [5]. This…

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From the book

een unwilling to write until I had something to say . . . . I am most happy to tell you that your last poem is —what Mr. Southey's is called —a Carmen Triumphale . Never in my recollection has any work . . . excited such a ferment . . . I sold on the day of publication—a thing perfectly unprecedented—10,000 copies . . . . Mr. Moore says it is masterly—a wonderful performance. Mr. Hammond, Mr. Heber, D'Israeli, every one who comes . . . declare their unlimited approbation. Mr. Ward was here with Mr. Gifford yesterday, and mingled his admiration with the rest . . . and Gifford did, what I never…
Passage [3]
fame; and with my most hearty admiration of your talents, and delight in your conversation, you are already acquainted. In availing myself of your friendly permission to inscribe this poem to you, I can only wish the offering were as worthy your acceptance, as your regard is dear to "Yours, most affectionately and faithfully, " Byron ."] ↑ [After the words, "Scott alone," Byron had inserted, in a parenthesis, "He will excuse the ' Mr. '—we do not say Mr. Cæsar."] ↑ ["It is difficult to say whether we are to receive this passage as an admission or a denial of the opinion to which it refers;…
Passage [18]
unfavourable: and if not, those who know me are undeceived, and those who do not, I have little interest in undeceiving. I have no particular desire that any but my acquaintance should think the author better than the beings of his imagining; but I cannot help a little surprise, and perhaps amusement, at some odd critical exceptions in the present instance, when I see several bards (far more deserving, I allow) in very reputable plight, and quite exempted from all participation in the faults of those heroes, who, nevertheless, might be found with little more morality than The Giaour , and…
Passage [16]
one thought whose relics there recline: The only pang my bosom dare not brave Must be to find forgetfulness in thine. 4. "My fondest—faintest—latest accents hear— Grief for the dead not Virtue can reprove; 360 Then give me all I ever asked—a tear, The first—last—sole reward of so much love!" He passed the portal, crossed the corridor, And reached the chamber as the strain gave o'er: "My own Medora! sure thy song is sad—" "In Conrad's absence would'st thou have it glad? Without thine ear to listen to my lay, Still must my song my thoughts, my soul betray: ​ Still must each accent to my bosom…
Passage [37]
to those who stem the surge; And more than all, his blood-red flag aloft, He marvelled how his heart could seem so soft. 530 Fire in his glance, and wildness in his breast, He feels of all his former self possest; He bounds—he flies—until his footsteps reach The verge where ends the cliff, begins the beach, There checks his speed; but pauses less to breathe The breezy freshness of the deep beneath, Than there his wonted statelier step renew; Nor rush, disturbed by haste, to vulgar view: For well had Conrad learned to curb the crowd, By arts that veil, and oft preserve the proud; 540 His was…
Passage [46]

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