’Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred,
   Promoted thence to deck her mistress’ head;
   Next—­for some gracious service unexpressed
   And from its wages only to be guessed—­
   Raised from the toilet to the table, where
   Her wondering betters wait behind her chair. 
   With eye unmoved and forehead unabashed,
   She dines from off the plate she lately washed: 
   Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie,
   The genial confidante and general spy,—­
   Who could, ye gods! her next employment guess,—­
   An only infant’s earliest governess! 
   What had she made the pupil of her art
   None knows; but that high soul secured the heart,
   And panted for the truth it could not hear
   With longing soul and undeluded ear!’ {17}

The poet here recognises as a singular trait in Lady Byron her peculiar love of truth,—­a trait which must have struck everyone that had any knowledge of her through life.  He goes on now to give what he certainly knew to be the real character of Lady Byron:—­

’Foiled was perversion by that youthful mind, Which flattery fooled not, baseness could not blind, Deceit infect not, nor contagion soil, Indulgence weaken, or example spoil, Nor mastered science tempt her to look down On humbler talent with a pitying frown, Nor genius swell, nor beauty render vain, Nor envy ruffle to retaliate pain.’

We are now informed that Mrs. Clermont, whom he afterwards says in his letters was a spy of Lady Byron’s mother, set herself to make mischief between them.  He says:—­

   ’If early habits,—­those strong links that bind
    At times the loftiest to the meanest mind,
    Have given her power too deeply to instil
    The angry essence of her deadly will;
    If like a snake she steal within your walls,
    Till the black slime betray her as she crawls;
    If like a viper to the heart she wind,
    And leaves the venom there she did not find,—­
    What marvel that this hag of hatred works
    Eternal evil latent as she lurks.’

The noble lord then proceeds to abuse this woman of inferior rank in the language of the upper circles.  He thus describes her person and manner:—­

   ’Skilled by a touch to deepen scandal’s tints
    With all the kind mendacity of hints,
    While mingling truth with falsehood, sneers with smiles,
    A thread of candour with a web of wiles;
    A plain blunt show of briefly-spoken seeming,
    To hide her bloodless heart’s soul-harden’d scheming;
    A lip of lies; a face formed to conceal,
    And without feeling mock at all who feel;
    With a vile mask the Gorgon would disown,—­
    A cheek of parchment and an eye of stone. 
    Mark how the channels of her yellow blood
    Ooze to her skin and stagnate there to mud,
    Cased like the centipede in saffron mail,