Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 3: With His Letters and JournalsMoore, Thomas
General
Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 3: With His Letters and Journals
Moore, Thomas
Byron, George Gordon Byron, Baron, 1788-1824; Poets, English -- 19th century -- Biography
Croker was the aggressor, and for _my own_ and not party reprisals,
I would not lend me to the zeal of any sect when I was made aware
that he was not the writer of the offensive passages. _You know_,
if there was such a thing, I would not deny it. I mentioned it
openly at the time to you, and you will remember why and where I
destroyed it; and no power nor wheedling on earth should have made,
or could make, me (if I recollected them) give a copy after that,
unless I was well assured that Mr. Croker was really the author of
that which you assured me he was not.
"I intend for England this spring, where I have some affairs to
adjust; but the post hurries me. For this month past I have been
unwell, but am getting better, and thinking of moving homewards
towards May, without going to Rome, as the unhealthy season comes
on soon, and I can return when I have settled the business I go
upon, which need not be long. I should have thought the Assyrian
tale very succeedable.
"I saw, in Mr. W.W.'s poetry, that he had written my epitaph; I
would rather have written his.
"The thing I have sent you, you will see at a glimpse, could never
be attempted or thought of for the stage; I much doubt it for
publication even. It is too much in my old style; but I composed
it actually with a _horror_ of the stage, and with a view to
render the thought of it impracticable, knowing the zeal of my
friends that I should try that for which I have an invincible
repugnance, viz. a representation.
"I certainly am a devil of a mannerist, and must leave off; but
what could I do? Without exertion of some kind, I should have sunk
under my imagination and reality. My best respects to Mr. Gifford,
to Walter Scott, and to all friends.
"Yours ever."
* * * * *
LETTER 266. TO MR. MOORE.
"Venice, March 10. 1817.
"I wrote again to you lately, but I hope you won't be sorry to have
another epistle. I have been unwell this last month, with a kind of
slow and low fever, which fixes upon me at night, and goes off in
the morning; but, however, I am now better. In spring it is
probable we may meet; at least I intend for England, where I have
business, and hope to meet you in _your_ restored health and
additional laurels.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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