fancy, and the frequent taunts on his
personal deformity with which she had wounded him.

The sympathy of a sister's love, of all the influences on the mind of a
youth the most softening, was also, in his early days, denied to him,--his
sister Augusta and he having seen but little of each other while young. A
vent through the calm channel of domestic affections might have brought
down the high current of his feelings to a level nearer that of the world
he had to traverse, and thus saved them from the tumultuous rapids and
falls to which this early elevation, in their after-course, exposed them.
In the dearth of all home-endearments, his heart had no other resource but
in those boyish friendships which he formed at school; and when these were
interrupted by his removal to Cambridge, he was again thrown back,
isolated, on his own restless desires. Then followed his ill-fated
attachment to Miss Chaworth, to which, more than to any other cause, he
himself attributed the desolating change then wrought in his disposition.

"I doubt sometimes (he says, in his 'Detached Thoughts,') whether,
after all, a quiet and unagitated life would have suited me; yet I
sometimes long for it. My earliest dreams (as most boys' dreams are)
were martial; but a little later they were all for _love_ and
retirement, till the hopeless attachment to M---- C---- began and
continued (though sedulously concealed) _very_ early in my teens; and
so upwards for a time. _This_ threw me out again 'alone on a wide,
wide sea.' In the year 1804 I recollect meeting my sister at General
Harcourt's, in Portland Place. I was then _one thing_, and _as_ she
had always till then found me. When we met again in 1805 (she told me
since) that my temper and disposition were so completely altered, that
I was hardly to be recognised. I was not then sensible of the change;
but I can believe it, and account for it."

I have already described his parting with Miss Chaworth previously to
her marriage. Once again, after that event, he saw her, and for the
last time,--being invited by Mr. Chaworth to dine at Annesley not long
before his departure from England. The few years that had elapsed
since their last meeting had made a considerable change in the
appearance and manners of the young poet. The fat, unformed schoolboy
was now a slender and graceful young man. Those emotions and passions
which at first heighten, and then destroy, beauty, had as yet produced
only their favourab