Whether Dallas be right or not in speaking thus of "Don Juan," we do not wish here to examine. In quoting his words, my sole desire is to declare that, until the appearance of this poem, Lord Byron's muse had been, even for a Dallas, the _chaste muse of Albion_. This avowal from such a man is worthy of note, and renders unnecessary any other quotation. We must not, however, pass over in silence Mr. Galt's very remarkable opinion on this subject:-- "Certainly," says he, "there are some very fine compositions on love in Lord Byron's works, but there is not a _single line_ among the thousand he wrote which shows a _sexual_ sentiment. With him, all breathes the _purest_ voluptuousness. All is vague as regards love, and _without material passion_, except in the delicious rhythm of his verses." And elsewhere he says:-- "It is most singular that, with all his tender, passionate apostrophes to love, Lord Byron _should not once have associated it with sensual images_. Not even in 'Don Juan,' where he has described voluptuous beauties with so much elegance." Then, quoting from "Hebrew Melodies,"---- SHE WALKS IN BEAUTY. She walks in beauty, like the night Of cloudless climes and starry skies; And all that's best of dark and bright Meet in her aspect and her eyes: Thus mellow'd to that tender light Which heaven to gaudy day denies. One shade the more, one ray the less, Had half impair'd the nameless grace Which waves in every raven tress, Or softly lightens o'er her face; Where thoughts serenely sweet express How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow, But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent! "Behold in these charming lines," continues Galt, "a perfect sample of his _ethereal admiration_, his _immaterial_ enthusiasm. "The sentiment contained in this fine poetry," says he, "beyond all doubt belongs to the highest order of intellectual beauty;" and it seemed proved to him that love, in Lord Byron, was rather a metaphysical conception than a sensual passion. He remarked that even when Lord Byron recalls the precocious feelings of his childhood toward his little cousins--feelings so strong as to make him lose sleep, appetite, peace; when he describes them, still unable to explain them--we feel that they were passions much more ethereal with him than with children in general.