Lord Byron had now, for some time, as may be collected from his
letters, begun to fancy that his reputation in England was on the
wane. The same thirst after fame, with the same sensitiveness to
every passing change of popular favour, which led Tasso at last to
look upon himself as the most despised of writers[1], had more than
once disposed Lord Byron, in the midst of all his triumphs, if not to
doubt their reality, at least to distrust their continuance; and
sometimes even, with that painful skill which sensibility supplies,
to extract out of the brightest tributes of success some omen of
future failure, or symptom of decline. New successes, however, still
came to dissipate these bodings of diffidence; nor was it till after
his unlucky coalition with Mr. Hunt in the Liberal, that any grounds
for such a suspicion of his having declined in public favour showed
themselves.

[Footnote 1: In one of his letters this poet says:--"Non posso negare
che io mi doglio oltramisura di esser stato tanto disprezzato dal
mondo quanto non e altro scrittore di questo secolo." In another
letter, however, after complaining of being "perseguitato da molti
più che non era convenevole," he adds, with a proud prescience of his
future fame, "Laondé stimo di poter mene ragionevolmente richiamare
alla posterità."]

The chief inducements, on the part of Lord Byron, to this unworthy
alliance were, in the first place, a wish to second the kind views of
his friend Shelley in inviting Mr. Hunt to join him in Italy; and, in
the next, a desire to avail himself of the aid of one so experienced,
as an editor, in the favourite project he had now so long
contemplated, of a periodical work, in which all the various
offspring of his genius might be received fast as they sprung to