love."

After speaking of the religious enthusiast, and saying that his soul
preceded his dust to heaven, he adds:--

"Is love less potent? No--his path is trod,
Alike uplifted gloriously to God;
Or link'd to all we know of heaven below,
The other better self, whose joy or woe
Is more than ours."

But enough of quotations; and now what poet has ever written or spoken
of love with words and images more chaste, more truly welling from his
own heart? We feel that he has given us the key to that. And if, after
all these demonstrations, there still remain any readers who continue to
accept as true the pleasantries, satires, and mystifications contained
in some of his verses, I do not pretend to write for them. They are to
be pitied, but there is no hope of convincing them. That depends on
their quality of mind. The only thing possible, then, is to recall some
of those anecdotes which, while justifying them in a measure, yet at the
same time illustrate Lord Byron's way of acting. I will select one. When
Lord Byron was at Pisa a friend of Shelley's, whom he sometimes saw, had
formed a close intimacy with Lady B----, a woman of middle-age but of
high birth. The tie between them was evidently the result of vanity on
Mr. M----'s side, and, as she was the mother of a large family, it was
doubly imperative on her to be respectable. But that did not prevent Mr.
M---- from boasting of his success, and even (that he might be believed)
from going into disgusting details in his eagerness for praise.

One day that Mr. M---- was in the same _salon_ (at Mrs. Sh----'s house)
with Lord Byron and the Countess G----, the conversation turned upon
women and love in general, whereupon Mr. M---- lauded to the skies the
devotedness, constancy, and truth of the sex. When he had finished his
sentimental "tirade," Lord Byron took up the opposite side, going on as
Don Juan or Childe Harold might. It was easy to see he was playing a
part, and that his words, partly in jest, partly ironical, did not
express his thoughts. Nevertheless they gave pain to Mme. G----, and, as
soon as they were alone, Lord Byron having asked her why she was sad,
she told him the cause.

"I am very sorry to have grieved you," said he, "but how could you think
that I was talking seriously?"

"I did not think it," she said, "but those who do not know you will
believe all; M---- will not fail to repeat your words as if they were
your real opinions; and the world