[66] [_Margaret of Anjou_, by Margaret Holford, 1816.]

[67] [_Ilderim, a Syrian Tale_, by H. Gaily Knight, 1816.]

VERSICLES.

I READ the "Christabel;"[68]

Very well: I read the "Missionary;"[69]

Pretty--very: I tried at "Ilderim;"

Ahem!

I read a sheet of "Marg'ret of _Anjou_;"

_Can you_?

I turned a page of Webster's "Waterloo;"[70]

Pooh! pooh!

I looked at Wordsworth's milk-white "Rylstone Doe;"[71]

Hillo!

I read "Glenarvon," too, by Caro Lamb;[72]

G.o.d d.a.m.n!

March 25, 1817.

[First published, _Letters and Journals_, 1830, ii. 87.]

FOOTNOTES:

[68] [_Christabel, etc._, by S.T. Coleridge, 1816.]

[69] [_The Missionary of the Andes, a Poem_, by W.L. Bowles, 1815.]

[70] [_Waterloo and other Poems_, by J. Wedderburn Webster, 1816.]

[71] [_The White Doe of Rylstone, or the Fate of the Nortons, a Poem_, by W. Wordsworth, 1815.]

[72] [_Glenarvon, a Novel_ [by Lady Caroline Lamb], 1816.]

QUEM DEUS VULT PERDERE PRIUS DEMENTAT.[73]

G.o.d maddens him whom't is his will to lose, And gives the choice of death or phrenzy--choose.

[First published, _Letters_, 1900, iv. 93.]

FOOTNOTES:

[73] [_a propos_ of Maturin's tragedy, _Manuel_ (_vide post_, p. 48, _note_ 1), Byron "does into English" the Latin proverb by way of contrast to the text, "Whom the Lord loveth He chasteneth; blessed be the Name of the Lord" (Letter to Murray, April 2, 1817).]

TO THOMAS MOORE.

1.

My boat is on the sh.o.r.e, And my bark is on the sea; But, before I go, Tom Moore, Here's a double health to thee!

2.

Here's a sigh to those who love me, And a smile to those who hate; And, whatever sky's above me, Here's a heart for every fate.

3.

Though the Ocean roar around me, Yet it still shall bear me on; Though a desert shall surround me, It hath springs that may be won.

4.

Were't the last drop in the well, As I gasped upon the brink, Ere my fainting spirit fell, 'T is to thee that I would drink.

5.

With that water, as this wine, The libation I would pour Should be--peace with thine and mine, And a health to thee, Tom Moore.[74]

July, 1817.

[First published, _Waltz_, London, W. Benbow, 1821, p. 29.]

FOOTNOTES:

[74] ["This should have been written fifteen months ago; the first stanza was."--Letter to Moore, July 10, 1817.]

EPISTLE FROM MR. MURRAY TO DR. POLIDORI.[75]

DEAR Doctor, I have read your play, Which is a good one in its way,-- Purges the eyes, and moves the bowels, And drenches handkerchiefs like towels With tears, that, in a flux of grief, Afford hysterical relief To shattered nerves and quickened pulses, Which your catastrophe convulses.

I like your moral and machinery; Your plot, too, has such scope for Scenery! 10 Your dialogue is apt and smart; The play's concoction full of art; Your hero raves, your heroine cries, All stab, and every body dies.

In short, your tragedy would be The very thing to hear and see: And for a piece of publication, If I decline on this occasion, It is not that I am not sensible To merits in themselves ostensible, 20 But--and I grieve to speak it--plays Are drugs--mere drugs, Sir--now-a-days.

I had a heavy loss by _Manuel_--[76]

Too lucky if it prove not annual,-- And Sotheby, with his _Orestes_,[77]

(Which, by the way, the old Bore's best is), Has lain so very long on hand, That I despair of all demand; I've advertised, but see my books, Or only watch my Shopman's looks;-- 30 Still _Ivan_, _Ina_,[78] and such lumber, My back-shop glut, my shelves enc.u.mber.

There's Byron too, who once did better, Has sent me, folded in a letter, A sort of--it's no more a drama Than _Darnley_, _Ivan_, or _Kehama_; So altered since last year his pen is, I think he's lost his wits at Venice.

In short, Sir, what with one and t' other, I dare not venture on another. 40 I write in haste; excuse each blunder; The Coaches through the street so thunder!

My room's so full--we've Gifford here Reading MS., with Hookham Frere, p.r.o.nouncing on the nouns and particles, Of some of our forthcoming Articles.