"P.S.--I leave this to your discretion; if any body thinks the old line a good one or the cheese a bad one, don't accept either. But, in that case, the word _share_ is repeated soon after in the line-- "To share the master's bread and salt; and must be altered to-- "To break the master's bread and salt. This is not so well, though--confound it!" [Footnote 75: This is written on a separate slip of paper enclosed.] * * * * * LETTER 132. TO MR. MURRAY. "Oct. 12. 1813. "You must look The Giaour again over carefully; there are a few lapses, particularly in the last page.--'I _know_ 'twas false; she could not die;' it was, and ought to be--'I _knew_.' Pray observe this and similar mistakes. "I have received and read the British Review. I really think the writer in most points very right. The only mortifying thing is the accusation of imitation. _Crabbe_'s passage I never saw[76]; and Scott I no further meant to follow than in his _lyric_ measure, which is Gray's, Milton's, and any one's who likes it. The Giaour is certainly a bad character, but not dangerous; and I think his fate and his feelings will meet with few proselytes. I shall be very glad to hear from or of you, when you please; but don't put yourself out of your way on my account." [Footnote 76: The passage referred to by the Reviewers is in the poem entitled "Resentment;" and the following is, I take for granted, the part which Lord Byron is accused by them of having imitated:-- "Those are like wax--apply them to the fire, Melting, they take th' impressions you desire; Easy to mould, and fashion as you please, And again moulded with an equal ease: Like smelted iron these the forms retain; But, once impress'd, will never melt again." ] * * * * * LETTER 133. TO MR. MOORE. "Bennet Street, August 22. 1813. "As our late--I might say, deceased--correspondence had too much of the town-life leaven in it, we will now, 'paulo majora,' prattle a little of literature in all its branches; and first of the first--criticism. The Prince is at Brighton, and Jackson, the boxer, gone to Margate, having, I believe, decoyed Yarmouth to see a milling in that polite neighbourhood. Made. de Stael Holstein has lost one of her young barons, who has been carbonadoed by a vile Teutonic adjutant,--kilt and killed in a coffee-house at Scrawsenhawsen. Corinne is, of course, what all mothers must be,--but will, I venture to prophesy, do what few mothers could--write an Essay upon it. She cannot exist without a grievance--and somebody to see, or read, how much grief becomes her. I have not seen her since the event; but merely judge (not very charitably) from prior observation.