An amour (if it may be dignified with such a name) of that
sort of casual description which less attachable natures would have
forgotten, and more prudent ones at least concealed, was by him
converted, at this period, and with circumstances of most unnecessary
display, into a connection of some continuance,--the object of it not
only becoming domesticated with him in lodgings at Brompton, but
accompanied him afterwards, disguised in boy's clothes, to Brighton.
He introduced this young person, who used to ride about with him in
her male attire, as his younger brother; and the late Lady P----, who
was at Brighton at the time, and had some suspicion of the real nature
of the relationship, said one day to the poet's companion, "What a
pretty horse that is you are riding!"--"Yes," answered the pretended
cavalier, "it was _gave_ me by my brother!"
Beattie tells us, of his ideal poet,--
"The exploits of strength, dexterity, or speed,
To him nor vanity nor joy could bring."
But far different were the tastes of the real poet, Byron; and among
the least romantic, perhaps, of the exercises in which he took delight
was that of boxing or sparring. This taste it was that, at a very
early period, brought him acquainted with the distinguished professor
of that art, Mr. Jackson, for whom he continued through life to
entertain the sincerest regard, one of his latest works containing a
most cordial tribute not only to the professional, but social
qualities of this sole prop and ornament of pugilism.
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