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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
EPISTLE TO MR. MURRAY, by GEORGE GORDON BYRON Poet Analysis Poet's Biography First Line: My dear mr. Murray Last Line: Of what size you may quickly determine. Alternate Author Name(s): Byron, Lord; Byron, 6th Baron Subject(s): Mnemonics | |||
MY dear Mr. Murray, You're in a damn'd hurry To set up this ultimate Canto; But (if they don't rob us) You'll see Mr. Hobhouse Will bring it safe in his portmanteau. For the Journal you hint of, As ready to print off, No doubt you do right to commend it; But as yet I have writ off The devil a bit of Our Beppo: -- when copied, I'll send it. In the mean time you've 'Galley' Whose verses all tally, Perhaps you may say he's a Ninny, But if you abash'd are Because of Alashtar, He'll drivel another Phrosine. Then you've Sotheby's tour, No great things, to be sure, -- You could hardly begin with a less work; For the pompous rascallion, Who don't speak Italian Nor French, must have scribbled by guess-work. No doubt he's a rare man Without knowing German Translating his way up Parnassus, And now still absurder He meditates Murder As you'll see in the trash he calls Tasso's But you've others his betters The real men of letters Your Orators -- Critics -- and Wits, -- And I'll bet that your Journal (Pray is it diurnal?) Will pay with your luckiest hits. You can make any loss up With 'Spence' and his gossip, A work which must surely succeed; Then Queen Mary's Epistle-craft, With the new 'Fytte' of 'Whistlecraft,' Must make people purchase and read. Then you've General Gordon, Who girded his sword on, To serve with a Muscovite Master; And help him to polish A nation so owlish, They thought shaving their beards a disaster. For the man, 'poor and shrewd,' With whom you'd conclude A compact without more delay, Perhaps some such pen is Still extant in Venice; But please, sir, to mention your pay. Now tell me some news Of your friends and the Muse Of the Bar, or the Gown, or the House, From Canning, the tall wit, To Wilmot, the small wit, Ward's creeping Companion and Louse, Who's so damnably bit With fashion and Wit, That he crawls on the surface like Vermin, But an Insect in both, -- By his Intellect's growth Of what size you may quickly determine. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...STANZAS TO A LADY, WITH THE POEMS OF CAMOENS by GEORGE GORDON BYRON METRICAL FEET by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE HOMERIC HEXAMETER [DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED] by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE OVIDIAN ELEGIAC METRE, DESCRIBED AND EXEMPLIFIED by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE LESSER EPISTLES: TO A YOUNG LADY WITH SOME LAMPREYS by JOHN GAY A TERNARIE OF LITTLES, UPON A PIPKIN OF JELLIE by ROBERT HERRICK SPRING AND FALL: TO A YOUNG CHILD by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS ALL IS VANITY, SAITH THE PREACHER' by GEORGE GORDON BYRON |
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