"In fact, we need not be concerned; 'at last' comes very soon, and our Emilia quite forgets the memory of the moon, the moon that shone on her and us, the woods that heard our vows, the moaning of the waters, and the murmur of the boughs. She is happy with another, and by her we're quite forgot; she never lets a thought of us bring shadow on her lot; and if we meet at dinner she's too clever to repine, and mentions us to Mr. Smith as 'An old flame of mine.' And shall I grieve that it is thus? and would I have her weep, and lose her healthy appetite and break her healthy sleep? Not so, she's not poetical, though ne'er shall I forget the fairy of my fancy whom I once thought I had met. The fairy of my fancy! It was fancy, most things are; her emotions were not steadfast as the shining of a star; but, ah, I love her image yet, as once it shone on me, and swayed me as the low moon sways the surging of the sea." Among other sports his anxious friends hurried the lovelorn Bayly to Scotland, where he wrote much verse, and then to Dublin, which completed his cure. "He seemed in the midst of the crowd the gayest of all, his laughter rang merry and loud at banquet and hall." He thought no more of studying for the Church, but went back to Bath, met a Miss Hayes, was fascinated by Miss Hayes, "came, saw, but did _not_ conquer at once," says Mrs. Haynes Bayly (_nee_ Hayes) with widow's pride. Her lovely name was Helena; and I deeply regret to add that, after an education at Oxford, Mr. Bayly, in his poems, accentuated the penultimate, which, of course, is short. "Oh, think not, Helena, of leaving us yet," he carolled, when it would have been just as easy, and a hundred times more correct, to sing-- "Oh, Helena, think not of leaving us yet." Miss Hayes had lands in Ireland, alas! and Mr. Bayly insinuated that, like King Easter and King Wester in the ballad, her lovers courted her for her lands and her fee; but he, like King Honour, "For her bonny face And for her fair bodie." In 1825 (after being elected to the Athenaeum) Mr. Bayly "at last found favour in the eyes of Miss Hayes." He presented her with a little ruby heart, which she accepted, and they were married, and at first were well- to-do, Miss Hayes being the heiress of Benjamin Hayes, Esq., of Marble Hill, in county Cork. A friend of Mr. Bayly's described him thus: "I never have met on this chilling earth So merry, so kind, so frank a youth, In moments of pleasure a smile all mirth, In moments of sorrow a heart of truth. I have heard thee praised, I have seen thee led By Fashion along her gay career; While beautiful lips have often shed Their flattering poison in thine ear." Yet he says that the poet was unspoiled. On his honeymoon, at Lord Ashdown's, Mr. Bayly, flying from some fair sirens, retreated to a bower, and there wrote his world-famous "I'd be a Butterfly."