'At this present writing, Louis the Gouty is wheeling in triumph into Piccadilly, in all the pomp and rabblement of royalty. I had an offer of seats to see 'them pass; but, as I have seen a Sultan going to mosque, and been at his reception of an ambassador, 'the most Christian King "hath no attractions for me:"-though in some coming year of the Hegira, I 'should not dislike to see the place where he had ' reigned, shortly after the second revolution, and a happy sovereignty of two months, the last six weeks being civil war.

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Many thanks with the letters which I return. 'You know I am a jacobin, and could not wear white, 'nor see the installation of Louis the Gouty.

'This is sad news, and very hard upon the sufferers ' at any, but more at such a time-I mean the Bayonne 'sortie.

'You should urge Moore to come out.

'P.S. I want Moreri to purchase for good and all. 'I have a Bayle, but want Moreri too.

P.S. Perry hath a piece of compliment to-day; 'but I think the name might have been as well omitted. 'No matter; they can but throw the old story of incon

sistency in my teeth-let them,-I mean, as to not publishing. However, now I will keep my word. Nothing but the occasion, which was physically irresistible, made me swerve; and I thought an anonyme within my pact with the public. It is the only thing I have or shall set about.'

LETTER 177.

TO MR. MURRAY.

April 25th, 1814.

'Let Mr. Gifford have the letter and return it at his leisure. I would have offered it, had I thought ' that he liked things of the kind.

'Do you want the last page immediately? I have 'doubts about the lines being worth printing; at any ' rate, I must see them again and alter some passages, 'before they go forth in any shape into the ocean of 'circulation;-a very conceited phrase, by the by: 'well then-channel of publication will do.

""I am not i' the vein," or I could knock off a stanza 'or three for the Ode, that might answer the purpose 'better* At all events, I must see the lines again

* Mr. Murray had requested of him to make some additions to the Ode, so as to save the Stamp Duty imposed upon publications not exceeding a single sheet; and he afterwards added, in successive editions, five or six stanzas, the original number being but eleven. There were also three more stanzas, which he never printed, but which, for the just tribute they contain to Washington, are worthy of being preserved.

'first, as there be two I have altered in my mind's 'manuscript already. Has any one seen or judged of 'them? that is the criterion by which I will abideonly give me a fair report, and " nothing extenuate," ' as I will in that case do something else.

'I want Moreri, and an Athenæus.'

'Ever, &c.

LETTER 178.

TO MR. MURRAY,

'April 26th, 1814.

'I have been thinking that it might be as well to publish no more of the Ode separately, but incorporate it with any of the other things, and include 'the smaller Poem too (in that case)-which I must previously correct, nevertheless. I can't, for the 'head of me, add a line worth scribbling; my "vein" 'is quite gone, and my present occupations are of the gymnastic order-boxing and fencing-and my principal conversation is with my macaw and Bayle. I 'want my Moreri, and I want Athenæus.

'P.S. I hope you sent back that poetical packet to the address which I forwarded to you on Sunday: ' if not, pray do; or I shall have the author screaming after his Epic.'

LETTER 179.

TO MR. MURRAY.

'April 26th, 1814.

'I have no guess at your author,—but it is a

' noble Poem*, and worth a thousand Odes of any

Whom envy dared not hate,

Bequeathed the name of Washington,

'To make man blush there was but One!'

*A Poem by Mr. Stratford Canning, full of spirit and power, entitled 'Buonaparte.' In a subsequent note to Mr. Murray, Lord Byron says:—

'body's. I suppose I may keep this copy;-after 'reading it, I really regret having written my own. I say this very sincerely, albeit unused to think humbly ' of myself.

"I don't like the additional stanzas at all, and they had better be left out. The fact is, I can't do anything I am asked to do, however gladly I would; ' and at the end of a week my interest in a composi'tion goes off. This will account to you for my doing 'no better for your "Stamp Duty" Postscript.

The S. R. is very civil-but what do they mean by Childe Harold resembling Marmion? and the 'next two, Giaour and Bride, not resembling Scott? 'I certainly never intended to copy him; but, if there 'be any copyism, it must be in the two Poems, where the same versification is adopted. However, they exempt the Corsair from all resemblance to anything, though I rather wonder at his escape.

'If ever I did anything original, it was in Childe Harold, which I prefer to the other things always, ' after the first week. Yesterday I re-read English Bards;-bating the malice, it is the best.

'Ever, &c.'

A resolution was, about this time, adopted by him, which, however strange and precipitate it appeared, a knowledge of the previous state of his mind may enable us to account for satisfactorily. He had now, for two years, been drawing upon the admiration of the public with a rapidity and success which seemed to defy exhaustion, having crowded, indeed, into that brief interval the materials of a long life of fame. But

I do not think less highly of " Buonaparte" for knowing the author. I was aware that he was a man of talent, but did not suspect him of possessing all the family talents in such perfection."

admiration is a sort of impost from which most minds are but too willing to relieve themselves. The eye grows weary of looking up to the same object of wonder, and begins to exchange, at last, the delight of observing its elevation for the less generous pleasure of watching and speculating on its fall. The reputation of Lord Byron had already begun to experience some of these consequences of its own prolonged and constantly renewed splendour. Even among that host of admirers who would have been the last to find fault, there were some not unwilling to repose from praise; while they, who had been from the first reluctant eulogists, took advantage of these apparent symptoms of satiety to indulge in blame*.

The loud outcry raised, at the beginning of the present year, by his verses to the Princess Charlotte, had afforded a vent for much of this reserved venom; and the tone of disparagement in which some of his assail

* It was the fear of this sort of back-water current to which so rapid a flow of fame seemed liable, that led some even of his warmest admirers, ignorant as they were yet of the boundlessness of his resources, to tremble a little at the frequency of his appearances before the public. In one of my own letters to him, I find this apprehension thus expressed: If you 'did not write so well,-as the Royal wit observed,-I should say you 'write too much; at least, too much in the same strain. The Pythagoreans, you know, were of opinion that the reason why we do not hear or 'heed the music of the heavenly bodies is that they are always sounding in our ears; and I fear that even the influence of your song may be 'diminished by falling upon the world's dull ear too constantly."

The opinion, however, which a great writer of our day (himself one of the few to whom his remark replies) had the generosity, as well as sagacity, to pronounce on this point, at a time when Lord Byron was indulging in the fullest lavishment of his powers, must be regarded, after all, as the most judicious and wise:-'But they cater ill for the public,' says Sir Walter Scott, and give indifferent advice to the poet, supposing him possessed of the highest qualities of his art, who do not advise him 'to labour while the laurel around his brows yet retains its freshness. Sketches from Lord Byron are more valuable than finished pictures 'from others; nor are we at all sure that any labour which he might 'bestow in revisal would not rather efface than refine those outlines of striking and powerful originality which they exhibit when flung rough ' from the hand of a master.'-Biographical Memoirs, by SIR W. SCOTT.