Byrons's life at Ravenna was during the first months comparatively calm; nevertheless, he mingled in society, took part in the Carnival, and was received at the parties of the Legate. "I may stay," he writes in January, 1820, "a day--a week--a year--all my life." Meanwhile, he imported his movables from Venice, hired a suite of rooms in the Guiccioli palace, executed his marvellously close translation of Pulci's _Morgante Maggiore_, wrote his version of the story of _Francesca of Rimini_, and received visits from his old friend Bankes and from Sir Humphrey Davy. At this time he was accustomed to ride about armed to the teeth, apprehending a possible attack from assassins on the part of Count Guiccioli. In April his letters refer to the insurrectionary movements then beginning against the Holy Alliance. "We are on the verge of a row here. Last night they have over-written all the city walls with 'Up with the Republic!' and 'Death to the Pope!' The police have been searching for the subscribers, but have caught none as yet. The other day they confiscated the whole translation of the fourth canto of _Childe Harold_, and have prosecuted the translator." In July a Papal decree of separation between the Countess and her husband was obtained, on condition of the latter paying from his large income a pittance to the lady of 200 _l_. a year, and her undertaking to live in her father's house--an engagement which was, first in the spirit, and subsequently in the letter, violated. For a time, however, she retired to a villa about fifteen miles from Ravenna, where she was visited by Byron at comparatively rare intervals. By the end of July he had finished _Marino Faliero_, and ere the close of the year the fifth canto of _Don Juan_. in September he says to Murray, "I am in a fierce humour, at not having Scott's _Monastery_. No more Keats,[1] I entreat. There is no bearing the drivelling idiotism of the manikin. I don't feel inclined to care further about _Don Juan_. What do you think a very pretty Italian lady said to me the other day, when I remarked that 'it would live longer than _Childe Harold_'? 'Ah! but I would rather have the fame of _Childe Harold_ for three years than an immortality of _D. J._'" This is to-day the common female judgment; it is known to have been La Guiccioli's, as well as Mrs. Leigh's, and by their joint persuasion Byron was for a season induced to lay aside "that horrid, wearisome Don." About this time he wrote the memorable reply to the remarks on that poem in _Blackwood's Magazine_', where he enters on a defence of his life, attacks the Lakers, and champions Pope against the new school of poetry, lamenting that his own practice did not square with his precept; and adding, "We are all wrong, except Rogers, Crabbe, and Campbell."