With the most inviolable at- for one dose, though I'm afraid

Byron to Murray.*

ATTACKS on me were what I look'd for, Murray,
But why the devil do they badger you?
These godly newspapers seem hot as curry,
But don't, dear Publisher, be in a stew.
They'll be so glad to see you in a flurry —

I mean those canting Quacks of your Review-
They fain would have you all to their own Set;
But never mind them-we're not parted yet.
They surely don't suspect you, Mr. John,

Of being more than accoucheur to Cain ;
What mortal ever said you wrote the Don?

I dig the mine-you only fire the train!
But here why, really, no great lengths I've gone

Big wigs and buzz were always my disdain-
But my poor shoulders why throw all the guilt on?
There's as much blasphemy, or more, in Milton.

The thing's a drama, not a sermon-book ;

Here stands the murderer- that's the old one there
In gown and cassock how would Satan look ?

Should Fratricides discourse like Doctor Blair?
The puritanic Milton freedom took,

Which now-a-days would make a bishop stare;

* This versified paraphrase of the letter written by Byron, to his publisher, (John Murray) on the excitement caused by the appearance of “ Cain a Mys tery," was delivered by Odoherty at THE NOCTES, in March, 1822. I subjoin the original:

Letter from Lord Byron to Mr. Murray.

PISA, Feb. 8, 1822. DEAR SIR-Attacks upon me were to be expected; but I perceive one upon you in the papers, which, I confess, that I did not expect. How, or in what manner you can be considered responsible for what I publish, I am at a loss to conceive. If" Cain," be "blasphemous," Paradise Lost is blasphemous; and the very words of the Oxford Gentleman, "Evil be thou, my good," are from that very poem, from the mouth of Satan; and is there any thing more in that of Lucifer in the Mystery? Cain is nothing more than a drama, not a piece of argument. If Lucifer and Cain speak as the first murderer and the first rebel may be supposed to speak, surely all the rest of the personages talk also according to their characters; and the stronger passions have ever been permitted to the drama. I have even avoided introducing the Deity, as in Scripture (though Milton does, and not very wisely either;) but have adopted his angel, as sent to Cain, instead, on purpose to avoid shocking any feelings on the sub

But not to shock the feelings of the age,

I only bring you angels on the stage.
To bully You-yet shrink from battling Me,

Is baseness. Nothing baser stains "The Times,"
While Jeffrey in each catalogue I see,

While no one talks of priestly Playfair's crimes,
While Drummond, at Marseilles, blasphemes with glee,
Why all this row about my harmless rhymes?
Depend on't, Piso, 'tis some private pique

'Mong those that cram your Quarterly with Greek.

If this goes on, I wish you'd plainly tell 'em,
'Twere quite a treat to me to be indicted;

Is it less sin to write such books than sell 'em?

There's muscle! -I'm resolved I'll see you righted.
In me, great Sharpe, in me converte telum !

Come, Doctor Sewell, show you have been knighted.
-On my account you never shall be dunn'd,

The copyright, in part, I will refund.
You may tell all who come into your shop,

You and your Bull-dog both remonstrated;
My Jackall did the same, you hints may drop,
(All which, perhaps, you have already said.)
Just speak the word, I'll fly to be your prop,

They shall not touch a hair, man, in your head.
You're free to print this letter; you're a fool
you don't send it first to the JOHN BULL.

If

ject, by falling short of, what all uninspired men must fall short in, viz., giving an adequate notion of the effect of the presence of Jehovah. The old mysteries introduced him liberally enough, and all this is avoided in the new one.

The attempt to bully you, because they think it will not succeed with me, seems to me as atrocious an attempt as ever disgraced the times. What! when Gibbon's, Hume's, Priestley's, and Drummond's publishers have been allowed to rest in peace for seventy years, are you to be singled out for a work of fiction, not of history or argument? There must be something at the bottom of this -some private enemy of your own-it is otherwise incredible.

I can only say, "Me-me adsum qui feci," that any proceeding directed against you, I beg may be transferred to me, who am willing and ought to endure them all; that if you have lost money by the publication, I will refund any, or all of the copyright; that I desire you will say, that both you and Mr. Gifford remonstrated against the publication, as also Mr. Hobhouse; that I alone occasioned it, and I alone am the person who either legally or otherwise should bear the burthen. If they prosecute, I will come to England; that is, if by meeting it in my own person, I can save yours. Let me know-you sha'n't suffer for me, if I can help it. Make any use of this letter which you please. Yours ever, BYRON.

MR. NORTH,

Ode to Mrs. Flanagan.

By an Irish Gentleman, lately deceased.*

A friend of mine died last month in Tralee, sit illi terra levis. He left behind him a large quantity of MSS. His wife, a woman of singular judgment, appointed me to prepare them for the press; and before I finally commit them entire to the public, I think it right to give a specimen of the poetical part. The public in this incredulous age might not wish to purchase a couple of folios without some sample of their contents. I give, therefore, the first that comes to hand.

It happens to be a poem, written about 1817, to a Mrs. Flanagan of Youghall. Every gentleman who assisted me in my commentary is duly mentioned, after the laudable custom of those viri clarissimi, the variorum editors.

I remain, sir, your most obedient, and very

DRUMANIGILLIBEG, Feb. 29, 1820.

humble servant, PHILIP FORAGER.

P. S.-I understand, that it is conceived by some of the critics who have perused this piece, that the hint is taken from Horace. Perhaps so-I accordingly subjoin the ode.

* This paraphrase appeared in Blackwood for March, 1820 —M.

* Dingle-i-couch, a celebrated harbour in the kingdom of Kerry.-P. F.

Mrs. Gallagher (pronounced more Hibernico, Gollagher) keeps the sign of the cat-and-bagpipes in Dingle, - -a woman irreproachable in her conduct, amatory in her disposition, fair in her dealings, and a good hand in running spirits. Touching the colour of her hair, it is red, and she was a widow (at the time of this poem,) of her third husband for nearly three months—she has been since married. Miss Skinandbone, a maiden lady in Dingle, tells me that her treatment of Flanagan was kind, and that he was no Joseph-but this may not be authenticated.-P. F. She appears to be a woman of taste and reading, by having my poem in her house. - LEIGH HUNT. It was left at her house by a Cockney barber, who was running away from his creditors, and taking ship on board the Yankiedoodle in Dingle; he left it with Mrs. G. as pledge for a tumbler of punch.— RODERICK MULSHENAN. Perhaps he found it too heavy to carry it any farther.-Z.

This allusion to Scripture, I think profane and reprehensible, LEIGH HUNT. So do I, BYRON. So do I, WM. HONE. So do I, BEDFORD. So do I, SUSSEX. So do I, T. MOORE. So also many more Whig wits, men conspicuous for respect for the Scriptures. Nobody understands profaneness better than they.-P. F.

The clear shown bay of Dingle rises, on my soul, with springy freshness from this circumstance. Mrs. Gallagher made the use I intended of my poem: