"Leigh Hunt has written a _real good_ and _very original Poem_, which I think will be a great hit. You can have no notion how very well it is written, nor should I, had I not redde it. As to us, Tom--eh, when art thou out? If you think the verses worth it, I would rather they were embalmed in the Irish Melodies, than scattered abroad in a separate song--much rather. But when are thy great things out? I mean the Po of Pos--thy Shah Nameh. It is very kind in Jeffrey to like the Hebrew Melodies. Some of the fellows here preferred Sternhold and Hopkins, and said so;--'the fiend receive their souls therefor!' "I must go and dress for dinner. Poor, dear Murat, what an end! You know, I suppose, that his white plume used to be a rallying point in battle, like Henry IV.'s. He refused a confessor and a bandage; so would neither suffer his soul or body to be bandaged. You shall have more to-morrow or next day. "Ever," &c. * * * * * LETTER 230. TO MR. MURRAY. "November 4. 1815. "When you have been enabled to form an opinion on Mr. Coleridge's MS.[88] you will oblige me by returning it, as, in fact, I have no authority to let it out of my hands. I think most highly of it, and feel anxious that you should be the publisher; but if you are not, I do not despair of finding those who will. "I have written to Mr. Leigh Hunt, stating your willingness to treat with him, which, when I saw you, I understood you to be. Terms and time, I leave to his pleasure and your discernment; but this I will say, that I think it the _safest_ thing you ever engaged in. I speak to you as a man of business; were I to talk to you as a reader or a critic, I should say it was a very wonderful and beautiful performance, with just enough of fault to make its beauties more remarked and remarkable. "And now to the last--my own, which I feel ashamed of after the others:--publish or not as you like, I don't care _one damn_. If _you_ don't, no one else shall, and I never thought or dreamed of it, except as one in the collection. If it is worth being in the fourth volume, put it there and nowhere else; and if not, put it in the fire. Yours, N." [Footnote 88: A tragedy entitled, I think, Zopolia.] * * * * *