on leaving her husband. She quitted London about the middle of January, ostensibly on a visit to her parents in Leicestershire. where Lord Byron was in a short time to follow her. 'They had parted," says Moore, "in the utmost kindness. She wrote him a letter full of playfulness and affection on the road, and immediately on her arrival at Kirkby Mallory her father wrote to acquaint Lord Byron that she would return to him no more. At the time when he had this unexpected shock his pecuniary embarrassments, which had been fast gathering round him during the whole of the last year (there having been no less than eight or nine executions in his house within that period), had arrived at their acmé; and at a moment when, to use his own expressions, he was "standing alone on his hearth, with his household gods shivered around him," he was also doomed to receive the startling intelligence that the wife who had just parted with him in kindness, had parted with him-for ever. Byron always asserted that mischief had been made between his wife and himself by her companion or attendant. Writing at the time to Moore, he says: "I do not believe-and I must say it in the very dregs of all this bitter business-that there ever was a better, brighter, kinder, or a more amiable and agreeable being than Lady Byron. I never had, nor can have, any reproach to make her while with me. Where there is blame it belongs to myself; and if I cannot redeem I must bear it." Moore adds afterwards: If there be any truth, however, in the principle that 'they never pardon who have done the wrong,' Lord Byron, who was to the last disposed to reconciliation, proved so far, at least, his conscience to have been unhaunted by any very disturbing consciousness of aggression."

The separation, however,—through the mystery cast over it by Lady Byron,—and the rumours consequently set afloat, raised an outcry against the poet which was never before known to result from such an event in private life: paragraph, pamphlet, and caricature alike held him up to odium. A few faithful friends, however, remained unshaken at his side.

In a letter written afterwards by Lady Byron to Moore, she asserted that she thought Lord Byron was mad, and was afraid to live with him. Probably the true solution of this mystery.

In the mean time, 'The Siege of Corinth' and 'Parisina' were finished. Murray sent him a thousand guineas for the copyright of the two poems. But in spite of his pecuniary difficulties. he still refused to accept payment for his poetry; yet, at the suggestion of Rogers and Sir James Mackintosh, he consented to give, or allow Murray to pay from that sum, £600 to an eminent writer who was then in difficulties. He would have had the remainder given away also, but the publisher (foreseeing that the poet might need the money himself) demurred. The appearance of these poems only added violence to the angry and inquisitorial feeling against him, and he was compelled to leave England, never, as it happened, to return. Time has greatly righted the wrongs he then received, and we think of him now only as one of the very greatest of our poets, a wonderful being, who would probably, had he lived longer, have wholly reformed, and ad led an heroic lustre to his life. The poet finds sorrow and suffering the very well-spring of song; to that journey of exile and humiliation we owe the exquisite third and fourth cantos of 'Childe Harold.'

On arriving at Geneva Lord Byron became acquainted with Shelley and his wife. An intimacy soon sprang up between the poets, who had many tastes in common.

Byron produced at this time (in addition to the third canto of Childe Harold') 'The Prisoner of Chillon,' 'Darkness, and 'The Dream,' the latter of which "cost him many a tear in writing." The incantation afterwards introduced into 'Manfred' was also written during 1816, and the lines 'To Augusta. The poet ultimately took up his abode at Venice, where he remained till 1819. From thence he sent to England 'Beppo,' 1817, and 'Manfred,' 1817. He next moved to Ravenna, where he wrote 'Mazeppa,' 1818, Marino Faliero,' 1820, 'Heaven and Earth,' 1821, 'Sardanapalus,' 1821, 'The Two Foscari,' 1821, and Cain,' 1821. 'Werner' was written at Pisa, 1821. The Island' was written at Genoa, 1823, 'The Deformed Transformed,' 1824. 'Don Juan' was published 1819.

Byron's life on the continent gave only too much justification for the accusations of his

enemies. At Ravenna he became attached to the countess Guiccioli, and resided in her husband's palace. But at last, whilst he was in Italy, the Greek Revolution awoke his spirit to higher purposes and aims than those of mere pleasure. He threw himself into the contest with ardour; gave £10,000 to the Greek cause, and himself joined the army of the patriots. He arrived at Missolonghi in the beginning of 1824, but after giving proof of great energy and practical ability, succumbed there to marsh fever, and died amidst the lamentations of the Greeks, and to the sorrow of all civilised Europe, at the early age of thirty-six, 19th of April, 1824. In his last moments he sent tender messages of farewell to his wife and child by his faithful servant, Fletcher.

Thus died, in the very prime of his life, one of the greatest of England's poets. That his life was stained with great immorality no one can deny; but there was much to extenuate his faults in his bad bringing up, and in the nature he inherited from his parents. Nevertheless, he possessed many good qualities in addition to his remarkable genius. Everybody who knew him intimately (except his wife), his companions, friends, teachers, or servants, remained attached to him to the last; and many could speak of his generosity and warmth of heart.

To him who has left us so great a legacy of delight we owe compassion and pity, and may now well suffer a veil to fall over the errors of his spoiled and impetuous youth and his soured and disappointed manhood.