Resembling Byron in divers matters already submitted to the reader's consideration, and in other matters to be noticed in later pages of this work, Shelley resembled him also, from childhood to his latest hour, in being a singular combination of feminine weakness and masculine strength. Remarkable for boyish resoluteness and energy, the Byron of Aberdeen, Harrow, and Cambridge, was no less remarkable for girlish sensibility and softness. Feminine in the emotional forces of his nature, the Byron of 'the Pilgrimage,' the London drawing-rooms, the Italian exile, and the expedition to Greece, was rich also in manly daring and combativeness. A similar account may be given of Shelley's constitution and temper. In his earlier time a boy on one side of his nature, he was a girl on the other. If 'his port' (to use Hogg's words) 'had the meekness of a maiden' in his later time, it possessed also the dignity of manliness. In moments of sudden peril it was discovered that fear had no chamber in the heart, of which Hogg wrote 'the heart of the young virgin, who had never crossed her father's threshold to encounter the rude world, could not be more susceptible of all the sweet charities than his.' It is remarkable how these two inseparable poets (inseparable for ever! notwithstanding all the efforts of the Shelleyan enthusiasts to disassociate them) impressed their closest friends alternately by their manliness and their womanliness. The biographer, who is eloquent about the manliness of Shelley's carriage, could not recall this friend of his heart and holder of his admiration, without remembering his meek and maidenly bearing and virginal sensibility. Even when he was bearing testimony to Byron's manly endowments, Hobhouse could not refrain from glancing at those of the poet's weaknesses, that, resembling 'a portion of his virtues, were of a feminine character--so that the affection felt for him was as that for a favourite and sometimes froward sister.'