under the pressure of
repeated sorrows, a shade of misanthropy had spread itself over his
character, notwithstanding that such a failing was totally contrary to
his nature. The acquaintance with his sister helped greatly to dispel
this veil, and, thanks to it, he was able to get rid of the first
sorrowful impressions of youth.

His dear Augusta became the confidant of his heart; and his pen on the
one hand, and his sister on the other, were the means of curing him of
all ills. Her influence over him is shown by the love expressed for her
in his letters and his notes at that time, and her prudent advice often
puts to flight the more unruly dictates of his imagination. Thus, on one
occasion, Mrs. Musters (Miss Chaworth) wrote to ask Byron to come and
see her. She was miserable that she had preferred her husband to the
handsome young man now the celebrated Byron. Byron is tempted to go and
see her; he loved her so dearly when a boy. But Augusta thought it
dangerous that he should go and see her, and Byron does not.

"Augusta wishes that I should be reconciled with Lord Carlisle," he
says. "I have refused this to every body, but I can not to my sister. I
shall, therefore, have to do it, though I had as lief 'Drink up Esil,'
or 'eat a crocodile.'"

"We will see. Ward, the Hollands, the Lambs, Rogers, every one has,
more or less, tried to settle these matters during the past two years,
but unsuccessfully; if Augusta succeeds it will be odd, and I shall
laugh."

To refuse his sister any thing was out of the question. He loved her so
much that the least likeness to her in any woman was enough to attract
his sympathy. If ill, he would not have his sister know it; if she was
unwell, he can not rest until he received better accounts of her health.
Nothing, however, shows better his love for her than the lines with
which she inspired him at the time of his deepest distress; that is, on
leaving England for Switzerland. I can not transcribe them altogether,
but I can not refuse myself the satisfaction of quoting some extracts
from them.

I.

"When all around grew drear and dark,
And reason half withheld her ray--
And hope but shed a dying spark,
Which more misled my lonely way,
* * * * * * *
Thou wert the solitary star
Which rose and set not to the last.

IV.

"Oh! blest be thine unbroken light!
That watch'd me as a seraph's eye,
And stood between me and the