I have tried for Gifford's Epistle to Pindar, and the bookseller says the copies were cut up for waste paper; if you can procure me a copy I shall be much obliged.-Adieu.-Believe me, my dear Sir, yours ever sincerely.

TO MR. HODGSON

Newstead Abbey, Notts, Nov. 27, 1808.

My dear Sir,-Boatswain is to be buried in a vault xxxvi waiting for myself. I have also written an epitaph, which I would send, were it not for two reasons: one is, that it is too long for a letter; and the other, that I hope you will some day read it on the spot where it will be engraved.

You discomfort me with the intelligence of the real orthodoxy of the 'Arch-fiend's' name, but alas! it must stand with me at present; if ever I have an opportunity of correcting, I shall liken him to Geoffrey of Monmouth, a noted liar in his way, and perhaps a more correct prototype than the Carnifex of James II.

I do not think the composition of your poem 'a sufficing reason' for not keeping your promise of a Christmas visit. Why not come? I will never disturb you in your moments of inspiration; and if you wish to collect any materials for the scenery, Hardwicke (where Mary was confined for several years) is not eight miles distant, and, independent of the interest you must take in it as her vindicator, is a most beautiful and venerable object of curiosity. I shall take it very ill if you do not come; my

mansion is improving in comfort, and, when you require solitude, I shall have an apartment devoted to the purpose of receiving your poetical reveries.

I have heard from our Drury; he says little of the Row, which I regret : indeed I would have sacrificed much to have contributed in any way (as a schoolboy) to its consummation; but Butler survives, and thirteen boys have been expelled in vain. Davies is not here, but Hobhouse hunts as usual, and your humble servant 'drags at each remove a lengthened chain.' I have heard from his Grace of Portland on the subject of my expedition: he talks of difficulties; by the gods! if he throws any in my way I will next session ring such a peal in his ears,

That he shall wish the fiery Dane

Had rather been his guest again.

You do not tell me if Gifford is really my commentator: it is too good to be true, for I know nothing would gratify my vanity so much as the reality; even the idea is too precious to part with.

I still expect you here; let me have no more excuses. Hobhouse desires his best remembrance. We are now lingering over our evening potations. I have extended my letter further than I ought, and beg you will excuse it; on the opposite page I send you some stanzas I wrote off on being questioned by a former flame as to my motives for quitting this country. You are the first reader. Hobhouse hates everything of the kind, therefore I do not show them to him. Adieu !-Believe me yours very sincerely, BYRON.

TO MR. JACKSON.

N. A., Notts, December 12, 1808.

My dear Jack,-You will get the greyhound from xxxvii the owner at any price, and as many more of the same breed (male or female) as you can collect.

Tell D'Egville his dress shall be returned-I am obliged to him for the pattern. I am sorry you should have so much trouble, but I was not aware of the difficulty of procuring the animals in question. I shall have finished part of my mansion in a few weeks, and if you can pay me a visit at Christmas, I shall be very glad to see you.-Believe me, etc.

TO MR. HODGSON

Newstead Abbey, Notts, Dec. 17, 1808.

My dear Hodgson, I have just received your xxxviii letter, and one from B. Drury, which I would send, were it not too bulky to despatch within a sheet of paper; but I must impart the contents and consign the answer to your care. In the first place, I cannot address the answer to him, because the epistle is without date or direction; and in the next, the contents are so singular that I can scarce believe my optics, 'which are made the fools of the other senses, or else worth all the rest.'

A few weeks ago, I wrote to our friend Harry Drury of facetious memory, to request he would prevail on his brother at Eton to receive the son of a citizen of London well known unto me as a

pupil; the family having been particularly polite during the short time I was with them, induced me to this application. 'Now mark what follows,' as somebody or Southey sublimely saith: on this day, the 17th December, arrives an epistle signed B. Drury, containing not the smallest reference to tuition or intuition, but a petition for Robert Gregson, of pugilistic notoriety, now in bondage for certain paltry pounds sterling, and liable to take up his everlasting abode in Banco Regis. Had this letter been from any of my lay acquaintance, or, in short, from any person but the gentleman whose signature it bears, I should have marvelled not. If Drury is serious I congratulate pugilism on the acquisition of such a patron, and shall be happy to advance any sum necessary for the liberation of the captive Gregson; but I certainly hope to be certified from you or some reputable housekeeper of the fact, before I write to Drury on the subject. When I say the fact I mean of the letter being written by Drury, not having any doubt as to the authenticity of the statement. The letter is now before me, and I keep it for your perusal. When I hear from you I shall address my answer to him, under your care; for as it is now the vacation at Eton, and the letter is without time or place, I cannot venture to consign my sentiments on So momentous a concern to chance.

To you, my dear Hodgson, I have not much to say. If you can make it convenient or pleasant to trust yourself here, be assured it will be both to me.

TO MR. DALLAS

Reddish's Hotel, Jan. 25, 1809.

My dear Sir, My only reason for not adopting xxxix your lines is because they are your lines. You will recollect what Lady Wortley Montague said to Pope: 'No touching, for the good will be given to you, and the bad attributed to me.' I am determined it shall be all my own, except such alterations as may be absolutely requisite; but I am much obliged by the trouble you have taken, and your good opinion.

The couplet on Lord C. may be scratched out, and the following inserted:

Roscommon! Sheffield! with your spirits fled,
No future laurels deck a noble head.

Nor e'en a hackney'd Muse will deign to smile
On minor Byron, nor mature Carlisle.

This will answer the purpose of concealment.

Now,

for some couplets on Mr. Crabbe, which you may
place after 'Gifford, Sotheby, M'Neil':

There be who say, in these enlighten'd days,
That splendid lies are all the Poet's praise;
That strain'd invention, ever on the wing,
Alone impels the modern Bard to sing.

'Tis true that all who rhyme, nay, all who write,
Shrink from that fatal word to genius, trite :
Yet Truth will sometimes lend her noblest fires,
And decorate the verse herself inspires.

This fact in Virtue's name let Crabbe attest;
Though Nature's sternest painter, yet the best,

I am sorry to differ with you with regard to the