It is for the sake of _one_, beloved "beyond ambition and the light of song,"--and worthy to be so loved, that he approaches _all_ women with the most graceful, delicate, and reverential homage ever expressed in sweet poetry. His fancy is indeed so luxuriant, that he makes whatever he touches appear fanciful: but the beauty adorned by his verse, and adorning his home, is not imaginary; and though he has almost hidden his divinity behind a cloud of incense, she is not therefore less _real_. The life Lord Byron led was not calculated to give him a good opinion of women, or to place before him the best virtues of our sex. Of all modern poets, he has been the most generally popular among female readers; and he owes this enthusiasm not certainly to our obligations to _him_; for, as far as women are concerned, we may designate his works by a line borrowed from himself,-- With much to excite, there's little to exalt. But who, like him, could administer to that "_besoin de sentir_" which I am afraid is an ingredient in the feminine character all over the world? Lord Byron is really the Grand Turk of amatory poetry,--ardent in his love,--mean and merciless in his resentment: he could trace passion in characters of fire, but his caustic satire burns and blisters where it falls. Lovely as are some of his female portraits, and inimitably beautiful as are some of his lyrical effusions, it must be confessed there is something very Oriental in all his feelings and ideas about women; he seems to require nothing of us but beauty and submission. Please him--and he will crown you with the richest flowers of poetry, and heap the treasures of the universe at your feet, as trophies of his love; but once offend, and you are lost,-- There yawns the sack--and yonder rolls the sea! Campbell, ever elegant and tender, has hymned us all into divinities; and through his sweet and varied page Where love pursues an ever devious race, True to the winding lineaments of grace, we figure under every beautiful aspect that truth and feeling could inspire, or poetry depict. Sir Walter Scott ought to have lived in the age of chivalry, (if we could endure the thoughts of his living in any other age but our own!) so touched with the true antique spirit of generous devotion to our sex are all his poetical portraits of women. I do not find that he has, like most other writers of the present day, mixed up his personal feelings and history with his poetry; or that any fair and distinguished object will be so thrice fortunate as to share his laurelled immortality. We must therefore treat him like Shakspeare, whom alone he resembles--and claim him for us all.