suitable to Lord Byron, as if in mockery over the forlorn flower of
virtue that was drooping in the solitude of sorrow.

'But I trust there is no such passage in your book. Surely you must
be conscious of your woman, with her 'virtue loose about her, who
would have suited Lord Byron," to be as imaginary a being as the woman
without a head. A woman to suit Lord Byron! Poo, poo! I could paint
to you the woman that could have matched him, if I had not bargained
to say as little as possible against him.

'If Lady Byron was not suitable to Lord Byron, so much the worse for
his lordship; for let me tell you, Mr. Moore, that neither your
poetry, nor Lord Byron's, nor all our poetry put together, ever
delineated a more interesting being than the woman whom you have so
coldly treated. This was not kicking the dead lion, but wounding the
living lamb, who was already bleeding and shorn, even unto the quick.
I know, that, collectively speaking, the world is in Lady Byron's
favour; but it is coldly favourable, and you have not warmed its
breath. Time, however, cures everything; and even your book, Mr.
Moore, may be the means of Lady Byron's character being better
appreciated.

'THOMAS CAMPBELL.'

Here is what seems to be a gentlemanly, high-spirited, chivalric man,
throwing down his glove in the lists for a pure woman.

What was the consequence? Campbell was crowded back, thrust down,
overwhelmed, his eyes filled with dust, his mouth with ashes.