THE LOVES OF THE POETS.

VOL. I.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY S. AND R. BENTLEY,
Dorset Street, Fleet Street.

THE ROMANCE OF BIOGRAPHY;

OR

MEMOIRS OF WOMEN LOVED AND CELEBRATED BY POETS,

FROM

THE DAYS OF THE TROUBADOURS TO THE PRESENT AGE;

A SERIES OF ANECDOTES INTENDED TO ILLUSTRATE THE INFLUENCE WHICH FEMALEBEAUTY AND VIRTUE HAVE EXERCISED OVER THE CHARACTERS AND WRITINGS OF MENOF GENIUS.

BY MRS. JAMESON,

Authoress of the Diary of an Ennuyée; Lives of Celebrated FemaleSovereigns; Female Characters of Shakspeare's Plays; Beauties of theCourt of Charles the Second, &c.

THIRD EDITION,
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. I.

LONDON:
SAUNDERS AND OTLEY.

MDCCCXXXVII.

Enfin, relevons-nous sous le poids de l'existence; ne donnons pas à nosinjustes ennemis, à nos amis ingrats, le triomphe d'avoir abattu nosfacultés intellectuelles. Ils reduisent à chercher la celèbrité ceux quise seraient contentés des affections: eh bien! il faut l'atteindre. Cesessais ambitieux ne porteront point remède aux peines de l'âme; mais ilshonoreront la vie. La consacrer à l'espoir toujours trompé du bonheur,c'est la rendre encore plus infortunée. Il vaut mieux réunir tous sesefforts pour descendre avec quelque noblesse, avec quelque réputation,la route qui conduit de la jeunesse à la mort.

MADAME DE STAËL.
[Pg vii]

THE AUTHOR TO THE READER.

These little sketches (they can pretend to no higher title,) aresubmitted to the public with a feeling of timidity almost painful.

They are absolutely without any other pretension than that ofexhibiting, in a small compass and under one point of view, manyanecdotes of biography and criticism, and many beautiful poeticalportraits, scattered through a variety of works, and all tending toillustrate a subject in itself full of interest,—the influence whichthe[Pg viii] beauty and virtue of women have exercised over the characters andwritings of men of genius. But little praise or reputation attends themere compiler, but the pleasure of the task has compensated itsdifficulty;—"song, beauty, youth, love, virtue, joy," these "flowers ofParadise," whose growth is not of earth, were all around me; I had butto gather them from the intermingling weeds and briars, and to bind theminto one sparkling wreath, consecrated to the glory of women and thegallantry of men.

The design which unfolded itself before me, as these little sketchesextended gradually from a few memoranda into volumes, is not completed;much has been omitted, much suppressed. If I have paused midway in mytask, it is not for want of materials, which offer themselves in almostexhaustless profusion—nor from want of interest in the subject—themost delightful in which the imagination ever revelled! but because Idesponded over my own power to do it justice. I know, I feel that itrequired more extensive[Pg ix] knowledge of languages, more matured judgment,more critical power, more eloquence;—only Madame de Staël could ha

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