In consequence of a misunderstanding, or rather of a false accusation,--of which I shall speak elsewhere, in order to show the generosity of Lord Byron's character,--a coolness took place in their friendship. A charming piece in the "Hours of Idleness" alludes to it, and shows well the nature of his mind. I will only quote the seventh stanza:-- "You knew that my soul, that my heart, my existence, If danger demanded, were wholly your own; You knew me unalter'd by years or by distance, Devoted to love and to friendship alone." CLARE (LYCUS). John Fitzgibbon, second Earl of Clare, succeeded to his father in 1802; was twelve years Chancellor of Ireland, and, later, Governor of Bombay. Lord Byron wrote of him at Ravenna:-- "I never hear the name of Clare without my heart beating even now, and I am writing in 1821, with all the feelings of 1803, 4, 5, and _ad infinitum_." He had kept all the letters of his early friends, and among these is one of Lord Clare's, in which the energy of his mind appears even through the language of the child. At the bottom of this letter and in Byron's hand, is a note written years after, showing his tender and amiable feelings:-- "This letter was written at Harrow by Lord Clare, then, and I trust ever, my beloved friend. When we were both students, he sent it to me in my study, in consequence of a brief childish misunderstanding, the only one we ever had. I keep this note only to show him, and laugh with him at the remembrance of the insignificance of our first and last quarrel. BYRON." Besides mentioning Lord Clare in "Childish Recollections," his "Hours of Idleness" contain another poem addressed to him, which begins thus:-- TO THE EARL OF CLARE. "Tu semper amoris Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat imago."--VAL. FLAC. Friend of my youth! when young we roved, Like striplings, mutually beloved, With friendship's purest glow, The bliss which winged those rosy hours Was such as pleasure seldom showers On mortals here below. The recollection seems alone Dearer than all the joys I've known, When distant far from you: Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain, To trace those days and hours again, And sigh again, adieu! * * * * * Our souls, my friend! which once supplied One wish, nor breathed a thought beside, Now flow in different channels: Disdaining humbler rural sports, 'Tis yours to mix in polish'd courts, And shine in fashion's annals: * * * * * I think I said 'twould be your fate To add one star to royal state:-- May regal smiles attend you! And should a noble monarch reign, You will not seek his smiles in vain, If worth can recommend you.