My love to the
faithless Nettle [1] (who I dare say is 'wronging' me during my
absence), and my best Compliments to all in your house who will receive
them.
Ever, dear W., yours truly,
B.
[Footnote 1: A dog given by Webster to Byron. (Note by J. W. W.)]
* * * * *
334.--To Sir James Mackintosh.
Sept. 27, 1813.
Dear Sir James,--I was to have left London on Friday, but will certainly
remain a day longer (and believe I _would a year_) to have the
honour of meeting you. My best respects to Lady Mackintosh.
Ever your obliged and faithful servant,
BYRON.
* * * * *
335.--To Thomas Moore.
September 27, 1813.
Thomas Moore,--(Thou wilt never be called "_true_ Thomas," [1] like he
of Ercildoune,) why don't you write to me?--as you won't, I must. I was
near you at Aston the other day, and hope I soon shall be again. If so,
you must and shall meet me, and go to Matlock and elsewhere, and take
what, in _flash_ dialect, is poetically termed "a lark," with Rogers and
me for accomplices. Yesterday, at Holland House, I was introduced to
Southey--the best-looking bard I have seen for some time. To have that
poet's head and shoulders, I would almost have written his Sapphics. He
is certainly a prepossessing person to look on, and a man of talent, and
all that, and--_there_ is his eulogy.
----read me _part_ of a letter from you.
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