He
has, or at least expresses a strong dislike to the Lake school of
poets, never mentions them except in ridicule, and he and I nearly
quarrelled to-day because I defended poor Keats.

On looking out from the balcony this morning, I observed Byron's
countenance change, and an expression of deep sadness steal over it.
After a few minutes silence he pointed out to me a boat anchored to
the right, as the one in which his friend Shelley went down, and he
said the sight of it made him ill.--"You should have known Shelley
(said Byron) to feel how much I must regret him. He was the most
gentle, most amiable, and _least_ worldly-minded person I ever met;
full of delicacy, disinterested beyond all other men, and possessing a
degree of genius, joined to a simplicity, as rare as it is admirable.
He had formed to himself a _beau ideal_ of all that is fine,
high-minded, and noble, and he acted up to this ideal even to the
very letter. He had a most brilliant imagination but a total want of
worldly-wisdom. I have seen nothing like him, and never shall again,
I am certain. I never can forget the night that his poor wife rushed
into my room at Pisa, with a face pale as marble, and terror impressed
on her brow, demanding, with all the tragic impetuosity of grief and
alarm, where was her husband! Vain were all our efforts to calm her;
a desperate sort of courage seemed to give her energy to confront the
horrible truth that awaited her; it was the courage of despair; I have
seen nothing in tragedy on the stage so powerful, or so affecting,
as her appearance, and it often presents itself to my memory. I knew
nothing then of the catastrophe, but the vividness of her terror
communicated itself to me, and I feared the worst, which fears, were
alas! too soon fearfully realized."

Byron talked to-day of Leigh Hunt, regretted his ever having embarked
in the "Liberal," and said that it had drawn a nest of hornets on him,
but expressed a very good opinion of the talents and principle of Mr.
Hunt, though, as he said, "our tastes are so opposite, that we are
totally unsuited to each other. He admires the Lakers, I abhor them;
in short, we are more formed to be friends at a distance, than near."
I can perceive that he wishes Mr. Hunt and his family away. It appears
to me that Byron is a person who, without reflection, would form
engagements which, when condemned by his friends or advisers, he would
gladly get out of without considering the means,