it appeared ("English Bards and Scotch Reviewers' 1809) it showed to the Review, and to all the world beside, that a new literary star had risen in the firmament, the fierce brightness of whose flame was likely to pale all lesser stars. But though Byron had found in this production what was perhaps his true field of literary effort satire he was as yet too inexperienced in the world to produce either satire or any other form of poetry on original lines. While he was upon his tour abroad, however, he had embodied many of his observations and reflections in a series of poems. But of these he had thought so little that when he returned to London he did not even take the trouble to hunt up a publisher for them. A friend, however, accidentally discovered them, and, recognizing their worth, persuaded their publication. In February, 1812, they appeared" Childe Harold, Cantos I and II." Their impression upon the public was instantaneous and marvellous. As Byron himself so appositely expressed it: "I awoke one morning and found myself famous." In five weeks seven editions of the book were exhausted. And not only did he win this popular success, but in the next two or three years he produced a series of poems-"The Giaour," "The Bride of Abydos," "The Corsair," "Lara," the "Hebrew Melodies" of which each was, if possible, more popular than its predecessor. Byron for the time being was the most popular author the English people had ever known. Even Scott's star, bright and splendid as it was (for “Marmion" and "The Lady of the Lake" were still on every one's lips), was bedimmed beneath the fiercer splendor of this newer luminary. Had Byron died in 1815 his name would have been written in the book of

fame as that of the most popular poet that ever lived. And yet none of these poems that Byron had so far written, not even the first cantos of "Childe Harold," popular as they were, and popular as they still are, were of that force and fervency which all enduring great poems must possess. A poet must feel and think deeply, must suffer, in fact, before he can write great poetry. Byron had not suffered yet, he had only imagined he had. Byron's relations with the other sex were the great determining facts of his life. And as his poetry was the outcome of his life (perhaps more so than that of any other great poet that ever lived) - -the expression of what he saw and felt and reflected upon in it therefore these relations became the great determining factors in the production of his poetry. And as these relations were rarely regulated according to conventional opinion, according to conventional modes of thinking and acting, it follows that it is impossible to sympathize with Byron, even to understand him, much less to appreciate him, unless one is prepared to put out of sight and forget (for the moment, at any rate) almost every settled opinion and rule of conduct which, in respect of sexual relationship, society has established for its safe-guarding. it must be remembered that Byron was not wholly to blame. Both fate and circumstances worked against him. We have seen what must have been the inheritance of disposition that he received from his ancestors on his father's side. We have seen, too, how little his mother's judgment and conduct were fitted to influence him for good. Almost the only principles of morality he ever learned, except what he picked up in the rough and tumble of an old-time English public school, and

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except what he learned from books, he owed to the precepts of a faithful Scotch nurse, who also taught him his Bible (in the knowledge of which, indeed, owing to her instructions, he was very proficient). He had a passion for loving; but the only woman he ever really loved that is, with an enduring love, at once ardent and pure — was his half-sister Augusta, and her He was destined rarely ever to see until he had returned from his travels abroad, with a man's full years and with more than a man's full experience. His earlier loves seem always to have been crossed. When yet a young boy he was in love with his cousin, Mary Duff, who afterward married another. When scarcely more than a boy he was in love with another cousin, Margaret Parker, who afterward died. When he was sixteen years of age he loved and would have married Mary Chaworth, a distant relative and the heiress of estates that adjoined his own; but she treated him coldly and disdained his advances, though ever afterward, even to the last year of his life, he treasured his idealization of her memory and made her the subject of some of his finest verse. All these passions were conventional enough; but there were others that were not so conventional. Some of his tenderest poems, some of the sweetest and most pathetic expressions of regret and sorrow he ever wrote, were addressed to the memory of "Thyrza"; but who Thyrza" was is not known, nor would Byron ever declare. An explanation given by some of his biographers is that "Thyrza Thyrza" was a young girl, of lower social degree than himself, who made sacrifices of everything for his sake, even so far as to accompany him through England on horseback as his brother. But