fe cry, and
so melancholy that I wish her to hear no more of them.'

"Now, my dear Moore, the effect must have been from your words, and
certainly not my music."

To give Moore the benefit of effecting a great success with an Oriental
poem, Byron gave up his own idea of writing one, and sent him some
Turkish books.

"I have been thinking of a story," says he, "grafted on the amours of a
Peri and a mortal, something like Cayotte's 'Diable Amoureux.'
Tenderness is not my _forte_; for that reason I have given up the idea,
but I think it a subject you might make much of."

Moore actually wished to write a poem on an Oriental subject, but
dreaded such a rival as Byron, and expressed his fears in writing to
him. Byron replied:--

"Your Peri, my dear Moore, is sacred and inviolable. I have no idea of
touching the hem of her petticoat. Your affectation of a dislike to
encounter me is so flattering that I begin to think myself a very fine
fellow. But it really puts me out of humor to hear you talk thus."

Not only did Byron encourage Moore in his task, but effaced himself
completely in order to make room for him.

When he published the "Bride of Abydos," Moore remarked that there
existed some connection in that poem with an incident he had to
introduce in his own poem of "Lalla Rookh." He wrote thereupon to Byron
to say that he would stop his own work, because to aspire after him to
describe the energy of passion would be the work of a Caesar.

Byron replied:--

"I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a strange diffidence of
your own powers, which I can not account for, and which must be
unaccountable when a Cossack like me can appall a cuirassier.

"Go on--I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you.
The success of mine is yet problematical ... Come out, screw your
courage to the sticking-place--no man stands higher, whatever you may
think on a rainy day in your provincial retreat."

To Moore he dedicated his "Corsair," and to read the preface is to see
how sincerely attached Byron was to his friend.

When at Venice he heard of some domestic affliction which had befallen
Moore; he wrote to him with that admirable simplicity of style which can
not be imitated, because the true accents of the heart defy imitation.

"Your domestic afflictions distress me sincerely; and, as far as you are
concerned, my feelings will always reach the furthest limits to which I
may still venture. Throughout li