One would be constrained to suspect that, even if the early poems addressed to Mary Chaworth stood alone. There are not many of them, and they lack the intensity of passion--the impression of all possible hopes irremediably blighted--which "The Dream" reveals. They strike one as a little stiff and artificial, as though the poet had tried to express, not so much what he actually felt, as what he considered that a man in his position ought to feel. That is particularly the case with the poems of the first period. There are boasts in them which we know to have been quite unwarranted by the circumstances of the case. The poet pictures himself as one who might disturb domestic peace if he chose, but refrains, being merciful as he is strong: "_Perhaps his peace I could destroy, And spoil the blisses that await him; Yet let my rival smile in joy, For thy dear sake, I cannot hate him._" The boasts there, we see, are the prelude of resignation; and, a line or two further on, resignation is followed by the resolution to forget: "_Then, fare thee well, deceitful Maid, 'Twere vain and fruitless to regret thee; Nor Hope nor Memory yield their aid, But Pride may teach me to forget thee._" That is very conventional--hardly less conventional than the Elegy on Margaret Parker--a sentimental "prelude to life," one would judge, of quite an ordinary kind. And, as has been said, the sentimental utterance does not stand alone. Other verses, hardly less sentimental, addressed to several other ladies, were, at the same time, pouring from Byron's pen. Burgage Manor, a house which his mother had taken at Southwell, near Nottingham, was his vacation home. He fled from his home, from time to time, because of Mrs. Byron's incurable habit of rattling the fire-irons in order to draw attention to his faults; but he returned at intervals, and stayed long enough to form a considerable circle of friends--friends, be it noted, who belonged not to "the county" but to the professional society of the town.