The poet himself dates his “first dash into poetry” a year later (1800), from his juvenile passion for his cousin Margaret Parker, whose subsequent death from an injury caused by a fall he afterwards deplored in a forgotten elegy.  “I do not recollect,” he writes through the transfiguring mists of memory, “anything equal to the transparent beauty of my cousin, or to the sweetness of her temper, during the short period of our intimacy.  She looked as if she had been made out of a rainbow—­all beauty and peace.  My passion had the usual effects upon me—­I could not sleep; I could not eat; I could not rest.  It was the texture of my life to think of the time that must elapse before we could meet again.  But I was a fool then, and not much wiser now.” Sic transit secunda.

The departure at a somewhat earlier date of May Gray for her native country, gave rise to evidence of another kind of affection.  On her leaving he presented her with his first watch, and a miniature by Kay of Edinburgh, representing him with a bow and arrow in his hand and a profusion of hair over his shoulders.  He continued to correspond with her at intervals.  Byron was always beloved by his servants.  This nurse afterwards married well, and during her last illness, in 1827, communicated to her attendant, Dr. Ewing of Aberdeen, recollections of the poet, from which his biographers have drawn.

In the summer of 1799 he was sent to London, entrusted to the medical care of Dr. Baillie (brother of Joanna, the dramatist), and placed in a boarding school at Dulwich, under the charge of Dr. Glennie.  The physician advised a moderation in athletic sports, which the patient in his hours of liberty was constantly apt to exceed.  The teacher—­who continued to cherish an affectionate remembrance of his pupil, even when he was told, on a visit to Geneva in 1817, that, he ought to have “made a better boy of him”—­testifies to the alacrity with which he entered on his tasks, his playful good-humour with his comrades, his reading in history beyond his age, and his intimate acquaintance with the Scriptures.  “In my study,” he states, “he found many books open to him; among others, a set of our poets from Chaucer to Churchill, which I am almost tempted to say he had more than once perused from beginning to end.”  One of the books referred to was the Narrative of the Shipwreck of the “Juno," which contains, almost word for word, the account of the “two fathers,” in Don Juan.  Meanwhile Mrs. Byron,—­whose reduced income had been opportunely augmented by a grant of a 300_l_. annuity from the Civil List,—­after revisiting Newstead followed her son to London, and took up her residence in a house in Sloane-terrace.  She was in the habit of having him with her there from Saturday to Monday, kept him from school for weeks, introduced him to idle company, and in other ways was continually hampering his progress.