f Heloise have those faculties
which arc peculiar to man, been developed as the possible inheritance
of woman. Though even here, as in the case of Heloise, our sex have
not been backward in alledging the existence of an Abeilard in the
person of M. Schlegel as the inspirer of her works. But to proceed:
upon the same side of the lake, Gibbon, Bonnivard, Bradshaw, and
others mark, as it were, the stages for our progress; whilst upon the
other side there is one house, built by Diodati, the friend of Milton,
which has contained within its walls, for several months, that poet
whom we have so often read together, and who--if human passions remain
the same, and human feelings, like chords, on being swept by nature's
impulses shall vibrate as before--will be placed by posterity in the
first rank of our English Poets. You must have heard, or the Third
Canto of Childe Harold will have informed you, that Lord Byron resided
many months in this neighbourhood. I went with some friends a few days
ago, after having seen Ferney, to view this mansion. I trod the floors
with the same feelings of awe and respect as we did, together, those
of Shakespeare's dwelling at Stratford. I sat down in a chair of the
saloon, and satisfied myself that I was resting on what he had made
his constant scat. I found a servant there who had lived with him;
she, however, gave me but little information. She pointed out his
bed-chamber upon the same level as the saloon and dining-room, and
informed me that he retired to rest at three, got up at two, and
employed himself a long time over his toilette; that he never went to
sleep without a pair of pistols and a dagger by his side, and that he
never eat animal food. He apparently spent some part of every day upon
the lake in an English boat. There is a balcony from the saloon which
looks upon the lake and the mountain Jura; and I imagine, that it must
have been hence, he contemplated the storm so magnificently described
in the Third Canto; for you have from here a most extensive view of
all the points he has therein depicted. I can fancy him like the
scathed pine, whilst all around was sunk to repose, still waking to
observe, what gave but a weak image of the storms which had desolated
his own breast.

The sky is changed!--and such a change; Oh, night!
And storm and darkness, ye are wond'rous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength, as is the light
Of a dark eye in woman! Far along
From peak to peak, the