I turn'd a page of Scott's "Waterloo ;" Pooh! pooh! I look'd at Wordsworth's milk-white "Rylstone Doe ; Hillo! &c. &c. &c. SO, WE'LL GO NO MORE A-ROVING. I. So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, II. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, March, 1817. III. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, 1817. 1 ["I have been ill with a slow fever. Here are some versicles which I made one sleepless night."-Lord B. to Mr. Moore, March 25, 1817. The " Missionary was written by Mr. Bowles, "Ilderim" by Mr. Gally Knight, and "Margaret of Anjou" by Miss Holford.] TO THOMAS MOORE. WHAT are you doing now, Which, Thomas Moore ? But the Carnival's coming, Oh Thomas Moore ! TO MR. MURRAY. To hook the reader, you, John Murray, (At least, it has not been as yet); Because as how, if you should fail, These books would be but baddish bail. And mind you do not let escape These rhymes to Morning Post or Perry, Which would be very treacherous-very, And get me into such a scrape! For, firstly, I should have to sally, All in my little boat, against a Galley; And, should I chance to slay the Assyrian wight, 2 ["This should have been written fifteen months ago; the first stanza was.” Lord B. to Mr. Moore, July 10, 1817.] 3 EPISTLE FROM MR. MURRAY TO DR. POLIDORI.3 DEAR Doctor, I have read your play, Which is a good one in its way,- To shatter'd nerves and quicken'd pulses, I like your moral and machinery; That I despair of all demand. I've advertised, but see my books, Or only watch my shopman's looks;— ["I never," says Lord Byron, was much more disgusted with any human production than with the eternal nonsense, and tracasseries, and emptiness, and ill-humour, and vanity of this young person; but he has some talent, and is a man of honour, and has dispositions of amendment. Therefore use your interest for him, for he is improved and improvable. You want a 'civil and delicate declension' for the medical tragedy? Take it."-Lord B. to Mr. Murray, August 21, 1817.] Still Ivan, Ina, and such lumber, There's Byron too, who once did better, I write in haste; excuse each blunder; The Quarterly-Ah, sir, if you The room's so full of wits and bards, Crabbes, Campbells, Crokers, Freres, and Wards, And others, neither bards nor wits: My humble tenement admits All persons in the dress of gent., A party dines with me to-day, |