So that, unless you have bowels
when you return to town (I am too far off to do it for myself), this
ineffable work will be lost to the world for--I don't know how many
_weeks_.
_Childe Harold's Pilgrimage_ must wait till _Murray's_ is finished. He
is making a tour in Middlesex, and is to return soon, when high matter
may be expected. He wants to have it in quarto, which is a cursed
unsaleable size; but it is pestilent long, and one must obey one's
bookseller. I trust Murray will pass the Paddington Canal without being
seduced by Payne and Mackinlay's example,--I say Payne and Mackinlay,
supposing that the partnership held good. Drury, the villain, has not
written to me; "I am never (as Mrs. Lumpkin [5] says to Tony) to be
gratified with the monster's dear wild notes."
So you are going (going indeed!) into orders. You must make your peace
with the Eclectic Reviewers--they accuse you of impiety, I fear, with
injustice. Demetrius, the "Sieger of Cities," is here, with "Gilpin
Horner." [6]
The painter [7] is not necessary, as the portraits he already painted
are (by anticipation) very like the new animals.--Write, and send me
your "Love Song"--but I want _paulo majora_ from you. Make a dash before
you are a deacon, and try a _dry_ publisher.
Yours always,
B.
[Footnote 1: For Robert Bland, see 'Letters', vol. i. p. 271, 'note' 1
[Footnote 2 of Letter 137]. In his 'Four Slaves of Cythera' (1809),
Canto I., occur the following lines:
"Now full in sight the Paphian gardens smile,
And thence by many a green and summer isle,
Whose ancient walls and temples seem to sleep,
Enshadowed on the mirror of the deep,
They coast along Cythera's happy ground,
Gem of the sea, for love's delight renown'd.
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