5
he entered Trinity College, Cambridge, where he resided irregularly for
three years, reading much in a desultory manner, but paying slight
attention to the classics and mathematics; so that it was a surprise
that he was able to take his degree. But he had keen powers of
observation and a phenomenal memory. Notwithstanding his infirmity he
was distinguished in many athletic sports, he was fond of animals and
such uncomfortable pets as bears and monkeys, and led generally an
irregular life. The only fruit of this period in literature was the
'Hours of Idleness,' which did not promise much, and would be of little
importance notwithstanding many verses of great lyric skill, had it not
been for the slashing criticism on it, imputed to Lord Brougham, in the
Edinburgh Review, which provoked the 'English Bards and Scotch
Reviewers.' This witty outburst had instant success with the public.

In 1809 Byron came of age, and went abroad on a two-years' pilgrimage to
Spain, Malta, Greece, and Constantinople, giving free rein to his humor
for intrigue and adventure in the "lands of the sun," and gathering the
material for many of his romances and poems. He became at once the
picturesque figure of his day,--a handsome, willful poet, sated with
life, with no regret for leaving his native land; the conqueror of
hearts and the sport of destiny. The world was speedily full of romances
of his recklessness, his intrigues, his _diablerie_, and his
munificence. These grew, upon his return in 1811 and the publication in
1812 of the first two cantos of 'Childe Harold.' All London was at his
feet. He had already made his first speech in the House of Lords
espousing the Liberal side. The second speech was in favor of Catholic
emancipation. The fresh and novel poem, which Byron himself had not at
first thought worth offering a publisher, fell in with the humor and
moral state of the town. It was then that he made the oft-quoted remark,
"I awoke one morning and found myself famous." The poem gave new impetus
to the stories of his romantic life, and London seemed to idolize him as
much for his follies and his _liaisons_ as for his genius. He plunged
into all the dissipation of the city. But this period from 1811 to 1815
was also one of extraordinary intellectual fertility. In rapid
succession he gave to the press poems and romances,--'The Giaour,' 'The
Bride of Abydos,' 'The Corsair,' 'Lara,' the 'Hebrew Melodies,' 'The
Siege of Corinth,' and 'Pari