TO MR. MOORE.

"May 4. 1814.

"Last night we supp'd at R----fe's board, &c.[30]

"I wish people would not shirk their _dinners_--ought it not to have been a dinner?[31]--and that d----d anchovy sandwich!

"That plaguy voice of yours made me sentimental, and almost fall in love with a girl who was recommending herself, during your song, by _hating_ music. But the song is past, and my pa.s.sion can wait, till the _pucelle_ is more harmonious.

"Do you go to Lady Jersey's to-night? It is a large party, and you won't be bored into 'softening rocks,' and all that. Oth.e.l.lo is to-morrow and Sat.u.r.day too. Which day shall we go? when shall I see you? If you call, let it be after three, and as near four as you please.

"Ever," &c.

[Footnote 30: An epigram here followed, which, as founded on a scriptural allusion, I thought it better to omit.]

[Footnote 31: We had been invited by Lord R. to dine _after_ the play,--an arrangement which, from its novelty, delighted Lord Byron exceedingly. The dinner, however, afterwards dwindled into a mere supper, and this change was long a subject of jocular resentment with him.]

TO MR. MOORE.

"May 4. 1814.

"Dear Tom,

"Thou hast asked me for a song, and I enclose you an experiment, which has cost me something more than trouble, and is, therefore, less likely to be worth your taking any in your proposed setting.[32] Now, if it be so, throw it into the fire without _phrase_.

"Ever yours,

"BYRON.

"I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name, There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame; But the tear which now burns on my cheek may impart The deep thoughts that dwell in that silence of heart.

"Too brief for our pa.s.sion, too long for our peace Were those hours--can their joy or their bitterness cease?

We repent--we abjure--we will break from our chain-- We will part,--we will fly to--unite it again!

"Oh! thine be the gladness, and mine be the guilt!

Forgive me, adored one!--forsake, if thou wilt;-- But the heart which is thine shall expire undebased, And _man_ shall not break it--whatever _thou_ mayst.

"And stern to the haughty, but humble to thee, This soul, in its bitterest blackness, shall be; And our days seem as swift, and our moments more sweet, With thee by my side, than with worlds at our feet.

"One sigh of thy sorrow, one look of thy love, Shall turn me or fix, shall reward or reprove; And the heartless may wonder at all I resign-- Thy lip shall reply, not to them, but to _mine_."

[Footnote 32: I had begged of him to write something for me to set to music.]

TO MR. MOORE.

"Will you and Rogers come to my box at Covent, then? I shall be there, and none else--or I won't be there, if you _twain_ would like to go without me. You will not get so good a place hustling among the publican _boxers_, with d.a.m.nable apprentices (six feet high) on a back row. Will you both oblige me and come,--or one--or neither--or, what you will?

"P.S. An' you will, I will call for you at half-past six, or any time of your own dial."

TO MR. MOORE.

"I have gotten a box for Oth.e.l.lo to-night, and send the ticket for your friends the R----fes. I seriously recommend to you to recommend to them to go for half an hour, if only to see the third act--they will not easily have another opportunity. We--at least, I--cannot be there, so there will be no one in their way. Will you give or send it to them? it will come with a better grace from you than me.

"I am in no good plight, but will dine at * *'s with you, if I can.

There is music and Covent-g.

"Will you go, at all events, to my box there afterwards, to see a _debut_ of a young 16[33] in the 'Child of Nature?'"

[Footnote 33: Miss Foote's first appearance, which we witnessed together.]

TO MR. MOORE.

"Sunday matin.

"Was not Iago perfection? particularly the last look. I was _close_ to him (in the orchestra), and never saw an English countenance half so expressive.

"I am acquainted with no _im_material sensuality so delightful as good acting; and, as it is fitting there should be good plays, now and then, besides Shakspeare's, I wish you or Campbell would write one:--the rest of 'us youth' have not heart enough.

"You were cut up in the Champion--is it not so? this day so am I--even to _shocking_ the editor. The critic writes well; and as, at present, poesy is not my pa.s.sion predominant, and my snake of Aaron has swallowed up all the other serpents, I don't feel fractious. I send you the paper, which I mean to take in for the future. We go to M.'s together. Perhaps I shall see you before, but don't let me _bore_ you, now nor ever.

"Ever, as now, truly and affectionately," &c.

TO MR. MOORE.

"May 5. 1814.

"Do you go to the Lady Cahir's this even? If you do--and whenever we are bound to the same follies--let us embark in the same 'Shippe of Fooles.' I have been up till five, and up at nine; and feel heavy with only winking for the last three or four nights.

"I lost my party and place at supper trying to keep out of the way of * * * *. I would have gone away altogether, but that would have appeared a worse affectation than t'other. You are of course engaged to dinner, or we may go quietly together to my box at Covent Garden, and afterwards to this a.s.semblage. Why did you go away so soon?

"Ever, &c.

"P.S. _Ought not_ R * * * fe's supper to have been a dinner?

Jackson is here, and I must fatigue myself into spirits."

TO MR. MOORE.