Byron, in some one of the letters or conversations, written either by or for him, says, or is said to say:  “I saw Southey (naming the time) at Lord Holland’s, and would give Newstead for his head and shoulders.”  This quotation is from memory, but, I trust, right in sentiment, though it may not be perfectly so in words; but I have seen little else concerning the physique either of him “Who framed of Thalaba that wild and wondrous song,” or of those to whom his blood is transmitted.  Still, at the time I have mentioned, it was impossible to look unmoved upon so much perfection of color, sound and expression as arrested my eyes at Keswick; in the tasteful and hospitable dwelling of him who brought to earth that “Glendoveer,” “one of the fairest race of Heaven,” (the heaven of India,) who averted the designs of Arvalan, in that glowing and magnificent poem “The Curse of Kehama.”

The Herodotus of Brazil, himself, had seen, when I first saw him, fifty-seven winters; but his once dark locks, though sprinkled with snow, were still curling as if childhood had not passed; and looked wild and thick as those of his own Thalaba.  A “chevelure” like this, with black eyes, aquiline features, and figure tall and slender, without attenuation, assisted in presenting such an image as is seldom viewed in reality; while the effect of the whole was enhanced by easy, unpretending and affectionate manners.

The eldest daughter of this Minstrel of the Mountains was called Edith May, (the name of May having been given because she was born in the month of blossoms.) This lady (now Mrs. Warter,) was the bard himself with a different sex and complexion.  “Her features his, but softened.”  Her gentle, graceful deportment was in perfect harmony with flaxen hair tinted with gold; and the outline of her father’s face was embellished by the blue eyes and other delicate colors of her too sensitive mother, (named, also, Edith,) who had been chosen for love alone.  The second daughter, Birtha, as I have said, was absent.  The third, Catherine, “between the woman and the child,” had hazel eyes and fine features, altogether with a delicate shape and complexion.  Cuthbert, the only son, was a boy of eleven or twelve, with an open, expressive countenance.

I could not help remarking that in the names of each individual of this pleasing group was heard that sound produced by the letter T followed by its companion H, which is so difficult to the organs of foreigners, but which, when tenderly pronounced, brings to mind the down of a swan or the wing of a dove.  Edith, Birtha, Catherine, Cuthbert, Southey.  If affection and innocence can insure felicity on earth, the course of their lives must be smooth as waters where the swan reposes; for certainly all their movements seemed innocent as those of the dove.