leaves it to-morrow with me for her own residence. I return immediately; but we meet so seldom, and are so minuted when we meet at all, that I give up all engagements till now, without reluctance. On my return, I must see you to console myself for my past disappointments. I should feel highly honoured in Mr B's permission to make his acquaintance, and there you are in my debt-for it is a promise of last summer which I still hope to see performed. Yesterday I had a letter from Moore:-you have probably heard from him lately; but if not, you will be glad to learn that he is the same in heart, head, and health.

LETTER III.

MY DEAR SIR,

Feb. 9, 1814.

I have been snow-bound and thaw-swamped (two compound epithets for you) in the « valley of the shadow of Newstead Abbey for nearly a month, and have not been four hours re

turned to London. Nearly the first use I make of my benumbed fingers, is to thank you for your very handsome note in the volume you have just put forth; only, I trust, to be followed by others on subjects more worthy your notice than the works of contemporaries. Of myself, you speak only too highly—and you must think me strangely spoiled, or perversely peevish, even to suspect that any remarks of yours in the spirit of candid criticism could possibly prove unpalatable. Had they been harsh, instead of being written as they are in the indelible ink of good sense and friendly admiration—had they been the harshest—as I knew and know that you are above any personal bias, at least against your fellow bards— believe me, they would not have caused a word of remonstrance nor a moment of rank

say

"

ling on my part. Your poem I redde2 long ago in the << Reflector,» and it is not much to it is the best « session» we have—and with a more difficult subject—for we are neither so good nor so bad (taking the best and worst) as the wits of the olden time.

"The Feast of the Poets. >>

2 Sic MS.

To your smaller pieces, I have not yet had time to do justice by perusal—and I have a quantity of unanswered, and, I hope, unanswerable letters to wade through before I sleep; but to-morrow will see me through your volume. I am glad to see you have tracked Gray among the Italians. You will perhaps find a friend or two of yours there also, though not to the same extent; but I have always thought the Italians the only poetical moderns ;—our Milton and Spenser, and Shakspeare (the last through translations of their tales), are very Tuscan; and surely it is far superior to the French school. You are hardly fair enough to Rogers-why « tea?» You might surely have given him supper-if only a sandwich. Murray has, I hope, sent you my last bantling, « The Corsair.» I have been regaled at every inn on the road by lampoons and other merry conceits on myself in the ministerial gazettes, occasioned by the republication of two stanzas inserted, in 1812, in Perry's paper. The hysterics of the Morning Post are quite interest

ing; and I hear (but have not seen) of something terrific in a last week's Courier-all which I take with « the calm indifference» of Sir Fretful Plagiary. The Morning Post has one copy of devices upon my deformity, which certainly will admit of no « historic doubts,>> like « Dickon my master's»-another upon my Atheism, which is not quite so clear-and another, very downrightly, says I am the devil (boiteux they might have added), and a rebel and what not :—possibly my accuser of diabolism may be Rosa Matilda; and if so, it would not be difficult to convince her I am a mere I shall break in upon you in a day or two-distance has hitherto detained me; and I hope to find you well and myself welcome. Ever your obliged and sincere,

man.

BYRON.

P. S. Since this letter was written, I have been at your text, which has much good humour in every sense of the word. Your notes are of a very high order indeed, particularly on Wordsworth.

LETTER IV.

MY DEAR HUNT,

October 15th, 1814.

I send you some game, of which I beg your acceptance. I specify the quantity as a security against the porter; a hare, a pheasant, and two brace of partridges, which, I hope, are fresh. My stay in town has not been long, and I am in all the agonies of quitting it again next week on business, preparatory to « a change of condition," as it is called by the talkers on such matters. I am about to be married; and am, of course, in all the misery of a man in pursuit of happiness. My intended is two hundred miles off; and the efforts I am making with lawyers, etc. etc. to join my future connexions, are, for a personage of my single and inveterate habits,—to say nothing of indolence, quite prodigious! I sincerely hope you are better than your paper intimated lately; and that your approaching freedom will find you in full health to enjoy it.

Yours, ever.

BYRON.