scrupulus conscience should have prevented you from fully-by-the-by, remember, she was not my mamma)-and availing yourself of his spoils. By this coach I send you a they thrust me into an old room, with a nauseous picture copy of that awful pamphlet, 'the Giaour,' which has never over the chimney, which I should suppose my papa regarded proci red me half so high a compliment as your modest alarm. with due respect, and which, inheriting the family taste, I You will (if inclined in an evening) perceive that I have looked upon with great satisfaction. I stayed a week with added much in quantity,—a circumstance which may truly the family, and behaved very well-though the lady of the diminish your modesty upon the subject.

"You stand certainly in great need of a 'lift' with Mackintosh. My dear Moore, you strangely underrate yourself. I should conceive it an affectation in any other; but I think I know you well enough to believe that you don't know your own value. However, t is a fault that generally mends; and, m your case, it really ought. I have heard hun speak of you as highly as your wife could wish; and enough to give all your friends the jaundice.

"Yesterday I had a letter from Ali Pacha! brought by Doctor Holland, who is just returned from Albania. It is in Latin, and begins 'Excellentissime, nec non Carissime, and ends about a gun he wants made for him ;-it is signed 'Ali Vizir.' What do you think he has been about? H. tells me that, last spring, he took a hostile town, where, forty-two years ago, his mother and sisters were treated as Miss Cunigunde was by the Bulgarian cavalry. He takes the town, selects all the survivors of this exploit-children, grandchildren, &c. to the tune of six hundred, and has them shot before his face. Recollect, he spared the rest of the city, and confined himself to the Tarquin pedigree, which more than I would. So much for 'dearest friend.'"

from

I write to you from Murray's, and I may say, Murray, who, if you are not predisposed in favour of any other publisher, would be happy to treat with you, at a fitting time, for your work. I can safely recommend him, as fair, liberal, and attentive, and certainly, in point of reputation, he stands among the first of 'the trade.' I am sure he would do you justice. I have written to you so much lately that you will be glad to see so little now. Ever, &c. &c.

LETTER CLXXV.

TO MR. MOORE.

THOMAS MOORE,

"Sept. 27, 1813.

*(Thou wilt never be called 'true Thomas,' like he of Ercildoune,) why don't you write to me?-as you won't, I mist. I was near you at Aston the other day, and hope I soon shall be again. If so, you must and shall meet me, and go to Matlock and elsewhere, and take what, in flash dialect, is poetically termed 'a lark,' with Rogers and me for accomplices. Yesterday, at Holland-house, I was introduced to Southey-the best-looking bard I have seen for some time. To have that poet's head and shoulders, I would almost have written his Sapphics. He is certainly a prepossessing person to look on, and a man of talent, and all that, and there is his eulogy.

*** read me part of a letter from you. By the foot of Pharaoh, I believe there was abuse, for he stopped short, so he did, after a fine saying about our correspondence, and Looked-I wish I could revenge myself by attacking you, or by telling you that I have had to defend you-an agreeable way which one's friends have of recommending themselves, by saying-Ay, ay, I gave it Mr. Such-a-one for what he said about your being a plagiary, and a rake, and so on.' But do you know that you are one of the very few whom I never have the satisfaction of hearing abused, but the reverse-and do you suppose I will forgive that?

"I have been in the country and ran away from the Doncaster races. It is odd,-I was a visiter in the same house which came to my sire as a residence with Lady Carmarthen (with whom he adulterated before his majority

house is young, and religious, and pretty, and the master is my particular friend. I felt no wish for any thing but a poodle dog, which they kindly gave me. Now, for man of my courses, not even to have coveted is a sign of great amendment. Pray pardon all this nonsense, and don't snub me when I'm in spirits.'

"Ever yours,

'BN.

"Here's an impromptu for you by a 'person of quality, written last week, on being reproached for low spirits.

"When from the heart where sorrow sits, &c.

LETTER CLXXVI.

TO MR. MOORE.

"Oct. 2, 1813.

"You have not answered some six letters of mine. Th.s therefore, is my penultimate. I will write to you once more, but after that-I swear by all the saints-I am silent and supercilious. I have met Curran at Holland-housef-he beats every body;-his imagination is beyond human, and his humour (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. Then he has fifty faces, and twice as many voices, when he mimics;-I never met his equal. Now, were I a woman, and eke a virgin, that is the man I should make my Scamander. He is quite fascinating. Remember, I have met him but once; and you, who have known him long, may probably deduct from my panegyric. I almost fear to meet him again, lest the impression should be lowered. He talked a great Ideal about you-a theme never tiresome to me, nor any body else that I know. What a variety of expression he conjures into that naturally not very fine countenance of his! He absolutely changes it entirely. I have done-for I can't describe him, and you know him. On Sunday I return to **, where I shall not be far from you. Perhaps I shall hear from you in the mean time. Good night.

"Saturday morn.-Your letter has cancelled all my anxieties. I did not suspect you in earnest. Modest again Because I don't do a very shabby thing, it seems, I don't fear your competition. If it were reduced to an alternative of preference, I should dread you, as much as Satan does Michael. But is there not room enough in our respective regions? Go on-it will soon be my turn to forgive. Today I dine with Mackintosh and Mrs. Stale-as John Bull may be pleased to denominate Corinne-whom I saw last night, at Covent-garden, yawning over the humour of Falstaff

"The reputation of 'gloom, if one's friends are not included in the reputants, is of great service; as it saves one from a legion of impertinents, in the shape of commonplace acquaintance. But thou knowest I can be a right merry and conceited fellow, and rarely 'larmoyant.' Murray shall reinstate your line forthwith. I believe the blunder in the motto was mine; and yet I have, in general, a memory for you, and am sure it was rightly printed at first.

"I do 'blush' very often, if I may believe Ladies H. and M.-but luckily, at present, no one sees me. Adieu."

LETTERS, 1813.

LETTER CLXXVIII.

MY DEAR SIR,

TO LEIGH HUNT.

"4, Bennet-street, Dec. 2, 1818

"Few things could be more welcome than your note

and indifferent, not to make me forget you, but to prevent me from reminding you of one who, nevertheless, has often thought of you, and to whom your thoughts, in many a measure, have frequently been a consolation. We were once very near neighbours this autumn; and a good and bad neighbourhood it has proved to me. Suffice it to say, that your French quotation was confoundedly to the pur- and on Saturday morning I will avail myself of your per pose, though very unexpectedly pertinent, as you may ima- mission to thank you for it in person. My time has not gine by what I said before, and my silence since. * * However, 'Richard's himself again,' and, except all night and A very short period after my last visit, an incident occurred, *been passed, since we met, either profitably or agreeably some part of the morning, I don't think very much about with which, I fear, you are not unacquainted, as report, in topic. That, naturally, gave me much uneasiness. Then many mouths and more than one paper, was busy with the that is now arranged: next-but why should I go on with a nearly incurred a lawsuit on the sale of an estate; but series of selfish and silly details? I merely wish to assure you that it was not the frivolous forgetfulness of a mind occupied by what is called pleasure, (not in the true sense of Epicurus,) that kept me away; but a perception of my then, unfitness to share the society of those whorn I value and wish not to displease. I hate being larmoyant, and making a serious face among those who are cheerful.

the matter.

"All convulsions end with me in rhyme; and to solace my midnights, I have scribbled another Turkish story*— not a Fragment-which you will receive soon after this. It does not trench upon your kingdom in the least, and, if it did, you would soon reduce me to my proper boundaries. You will think, and justly, that I run some risk of losing the little I have gained in fame, by this further experiment on public patience; but I have really ceased to care on that head. I have written this, and published it, for the sake of the employment, to wring my thoughts from reality, and take refuge in 'imaginings, however 'horrible; and, as to success! those who succeed will console me for a failure-excepting yourself and one or two more, whom luckily I love too well to wish one leaf of their laurels a tint yellower. This is the work of a week, and will be the reading of an hour to you, or even less-and so let it * go "P. S. Ward and I talk of going to Holland. I want to see how a Dutch canal looks, after the Bosphorus. Pray respond."

*

*

The Bride of Abydos. To this poem he made additions, in the course of printing, amounting altogether to near two hundred lines; and the opening lines," Know ye the land," &c.-supposed to have been suggestad to him by a song of Goethe's,-were among the number of these new insertions, as were also those verses, "Who hath not proved how feebly words essay, ," &c. Having, at first, written the line in stanza 6,

"Mind on her lip and music in her face,''

be afterward altered it to

"The mind of music breathing in her face."

But, this not satisfying him, the next step of correction brought the line to what it is at present

"The mind, the music breathing from her face."

The whole passage which follows

"Thou, my Zuleika, share and bless my bark,"

accept it, friendship, may be permanent. I have been lucky "It is my wish that our acquaintance, or, if you please to enough to preserve some friends from a very early period, and I hope, as I do not (at least now) select them lightly, shall not lose them capriciously. I have a thorough esteem with sterling talent, and at the expense of some suffering. for that independence of spirit which you have maintained You have not, I trust, abandoned the poem you were com posing, when Moore and I partook of your hospitality in the able to repay you in kind for the latter-for the rhyme, a I hope a time will come when he and I may be least in quantity, you are in arrear to both.

summer.

"Believe me very truly and affectionately yours,
"BYRON"

LETTER CLXXIX.

TO MR. MOORE.

"Dec. 8, 1813

"Your letter, like all the best, and even kindest, things in this world, is both painful and pleasing. But, first, to what

was sent in successive scraps to the printer, correction following correc- sits nearest. Do you know I was actually about to dedicate

tion.

The line," And tints to-morrow with prophetic ray," was originally an airy

"And tints to-morrow with a fancied ray,

the following note being annexed:-"Mr. Murray,-Choose which of
the two epithets, fancied,' or ' airy,' may be the best; or, if neither will
do, tell me, and I will dream another." In the long passage Just referred
to, the six lines beginning "Blest as the Muezzin's strain, &c. having
been despatched to the printer too late for insertion, were, by his desire,
added in an errata page; the first couplet, in its original form, being as
follows:-

"Soft as the Mecca-Muezzin's strains invite
Him who hath journey'd far to join the rite."

to you, not in a formal inscription, as to one's elders,-but through a short prefatory letter, in which I boasted myself when, lo, the recollection of your strict injunctions of secrecy your intimate, and held forth the prospect of your Poem, as to the said Poem, more than once repeated by word and letter, flashed upon me, and marred my intents. I could have no motive for repressing my own desire of alluding to you, (and not a day passes that I do not think and talk of you,) but an idea that you might, yourself, dislike it. You cannot doubt my sincere admiration, waiving personal friend

in a few hours after, another scrap was sent off, containing the lines ship for the present, which, by-the-by, is not less sincere and

thu –

"Blest as the Muezzin's strain from Mecca's dome,
Which welcomes Faith to view her Prophet's tomb,"

with the following note to Mr. Murray:

"Look out in the Encyclopedia, article Mecca, whether it is there or "December 3d, 1813.

deep-rooted. I have you by rote and by heart; of which 'ecce signum" When I was at **, on my first visit, I have a habit, in passing my time a good deal alone, of-I won't call it singing, for that I never attempt except to my

at Medina the Prophet is entombed. If at Medina, the first lines of my self-but of uttering, to what I think tunes, your 'Oh breathe

alteration must run

not,' 'When the last glimpse,' and 'When he who adores thee,' with others of the same minstrel;-they are my matins and vespers. I assuredly did not intend them to be

If at Mecca, the lines may stand as before. Page 45, cante 2d, Bride of overheard, but, one morning, in comes, not La Donna, but Il

quest you won't sing any more, at least of those songs. 1 Marito, with a very grave face, saying, 'Byron, I must retruth,' quoth he, 'they make my wife cry, and so melancholy, stared, and said, 'Certainly, but why?-To tell you the that I wish her to hear no more of them.'

"Now, my dear Moore, the effect must have been from your words, and certainly not my music. I merely mention

Notwithstanding all these various changes, the couplet in question this foolish story, to show you how much I am indebted stands, at present, thus:

to you for even your pastimes. A man ray praise and
praise, but no one recollects but that which pleases-ut

least, in con position. Though I think no one equal to you in that department, or in satire, and surely no one was ever so popular in both,-I certainly am of opinion that you have not yet done all you can do, though more than enough for any one else. I want, and the world expects, a longer work from you; and I see in you what I never saw in poet before, a strange diffidence of your own powers, which I cannot account for, and which must be unaccountable, when a Cossac like me can appal a cuirassier. Your story I did not, could not, know, I thought only of a Peri. I wish you had confided in me, not for your sake, but mine, and to prevent the world from losing a much better poem than my own, but which, I yet hope, this clashing will not even now deprive them of. Mine is the work of a week, written, why I have partly told you, and partly I cannot tell you by letter-some day I will.

*Go on I shall really be very unhappy if I at all interfere with you. The success of mine is yet problematical; though the public will probably purchase a certain quantity, on the presumption of their own propensity for 'the Giaour' and such horrid mysteries.' The only advantage I have is being on the spot; and that merely amounts to saving me the trouble of turning over books, which I had better read again. If your chamber was furnished in the same way, you have no need to go there to describe-I mean only as to accuracy-because I drew it from recollection.

*

MS.? Had I been less awake to, and interested in, his
theme, I had been less obtrusive; but you know I always
take this in good part, and I hope he will. It is difficult to
say what will succeed, and still more to pronounce what will
not. I am at this moment in that uncertainty (on our our
score,) and it is no small proof of the author's powers to be
able to charm and fix a mind's attention on similar subjects
and climates in such a predicament. That he may have
the same effect upon all his readers is very sincerely the
wish, and hardly the doubt, of yours truly,
"B."

"I hope you will consider when I venture on any request, that it is the reverse of a certain Dedication, and is addressed not to 'The Editor of the Quarterly Review,' but to Mr. Gifford. You will understand this, and on that point I need trouble you no farther.

diverted me from myself, I thought you would not perhaps be offended if Mr. Murray forwarded it to you. He has done so, and to apologize for his doing so a second time is the object of my present letter.

"You have been good enough to look at a thing of mine in MS.*-a Turkish story, and I should feel gratified if you would do it the same favour in its probationary state of printing. It was written, I cannot say for amusement, nor 'obliged by hunger and request of friends,' but in a state of mind, from circumstances which This last thing of mine may have the same fate, and I occasionally occur to 'us youth,' that rendered it necesassure you I have great doubts about it. But, even if not, sary for me to apply my mind to something, any thing its little day will be over before you are ready and willing. but reality; and under this not very brilliant inspiration. Come out-screw your courage to the sticking-place.' Ex-it was composed. Being done, and having at least cept the Post Bag (and surely you cannot complain of a want of success there,) you have not been regularly out for some years. No man stands higher,-whatever you may hink on a rainy day, in your provincial retreat. 'Aucun mme, dans aucune langue, n'a été, peut-être, plus complètement le poëte du cœur et le poëte des femmes. Les erinques lui reprochent de n'avoir representé le monde ni tel qu'il est, ni tel qu'il doit être; mais les femmes répondent qu'il la representé tel qu'elles le désirent.-I should have thought Sismondi had written this for you instead of Metastasio. "Write to me, and tell me of yourself. Do you remember what Rousseau said to some one-Have we quarrelled? you have talked to me often, and never once mentioned your-It deserves no better than the first, as the work of a week, self.' and scribbled stans pede in uno' (by-the-by, the only "P. S. The last sentence is an indirect apology for my foot I have to stand on ;) and I promise never to trouble own egotism, but I believe in letters it is allowed. I wish you again under forty Cantos, and a voyage between it was mutual. I have met with an odd reflection in Grimm; each. it shall not—at least, the bad part,—be applied to you or me, though one of us has certainly an indifferent name-but this it is: Many people have the reputation of being wicked, with whom we should be too happy to pass our lives.' I need not add it is a woman's saying-a Mademoiselle de Sommery's."

"I beg you will not send me any answer. I assure
you very sincerely I know your time to be occupied, and
it is enough, more than enough, if you read; you are
not to be bored with the fatigue of answers.
"A word to Mr. Murray will be sufficient, and send it
either to the flames, or

A hundred hawkers' load,
On wings of winds to fly or fall abroad.'

"Believe me ever

"Your obliged and affectionate servant,
"BYRON "

LETTER CLXXX.

TO MR. MURRAY.

"Dec. 4, 1813.

"I have redde through your Persian Tales,* and have taken the liberty of making some remarks on the blank pages. There are many beautiful passages, and an interesting story; and I cannot give you a stronger proof that such is my opinion than by the date of the hour-two o'clock, till which it has kept me awake without a yawn. The conclusion is not quite correct in costume: there is no Mussulman suicide on record, at least for love. But this matters not. The tale must have been written by some one who has been on the spot, and I wish him, and he deserves, success. Will you apologize to the author for the liberties I have taken with his

• Ilam, c. by Mr. Knight

LETTER CLXXXII.

TO MR. MUF.RAY.

"Nov. 12, 1813. "Two friends of mine (Mr. Rogers and Mr. Sharpe) have advised me not to risk at present any single publication separately, for various reasons. As they have not seen the one in question, they can have no bias for or against the merits (if it has any) or the faults of the present subject of our conversation. You say all the last of the 'Giaour' are gone-at least out of your hands. Now, if you think of publishing any new edition with the last additions which have not yet been before the reader (I mean distinct from the two-volume publication,) we can add the 'Bride of Abydos,' which will thus steal quietly into the world: if liked, we can then throw off some copies for the purchasers of former 'Giaours; and, if not, I can omit it in any future publication. What think you? I really am no judge of those things, and with all my natural partiality for one's own produc

The Bride of Abvios.

LETTERS, 1813.

"P. S. Pray let me have the proofs I sent all to-night. I have some alterations that I wish to make speedily. I hope the proof will be on separate pages, and not all huddled together on a mile-long ballad-singing sheet, as those of the Giaour sometimes are; for then I can't read them distinctly."

"Nov. 13, 1813. "Will you forward the letter to Mr. Gifford with the proof? There is an alteration I may make in Zuleika's speech, in second Canto (the only one of hers in that Canto.) It is now thus:

"B."

"I wish you would ask Mr. Gifford which of them is best, or rather not worst. "Ever, &c.

"You can send the request contained in this at the same time with the revise, after I have seen the said re

"Nov. 13, 1813. "Certainly. Do you suppose that no one but the Galileans are acquainted with Adam, and Eve, and Cain, and Noah? Surely, I might have had Solomon, and Abraham, and David, and even Moses. When you know that Zuleika is the Persian poetical name for Potiphar's wife, on whom and Joseph there is a long poem, in the Persian, this will not surprise you. If you want authority, look at Jones, D'Herbelot, Vathek, or the notes to the Arabian Nights; and, if you think it necessary, model this into a note.†

"The pictures of Phillips I consider as mine, all three "Alter, in the inscription, 'the most affectionate re-at your service, if you will accept it as a present. and the one (not the Arnaout) of the two best is much spect,' to 'with every sentiment of regard and respect.'"

"I have no time to cross-investigate, but I believe and hope all is right. I care less than you will believe about its suc-note, on the subject of 'the Bride,' from Sir James Mackcess, but I can't survive a single misprint: it chokes me to see intosh, and an invitation to go there this evening, which it is words misused by the printers. Pray look over, in case of now too late to accept." some eyesore escaping me.

"P. S. Mr. Ward and myself still continue our purpose; "P. S. I have sail this much about the epigrams, because but I shall not trouble you on any arrangement on the score I lived so much in the opposite camp, and, from my post as of the Giaour and the Bride till our return-or, at any rate, an engineer, might be suspected as the flinger of these hand before May, 1814—that is, six months from hence: and be-grenadoes; but with a worthy foe, I am all for open war, and fore that time you will be able to ascertain how far your not this bush-fighting, and have not had, nor will have, any offer may be a losing one; so, you can deduct propor- thing to do with it. I do not know the author." tionably; and if not, I shall not at any rate allow you to go