Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/36

8 Since now thou put'st thyself and work to Sea

And leav'st all Greece to Fletcher and to me,

Oh, hear my single muse our sorrows tell,

One song for self and Fletcher quite as well—

First to the Castle of that man of woes

Dispatch the letter which I must enclose,

And when his lone Penelope shall say

Why, where, and wherefore doth my William stay?

Spare not to move her pity, or her pride—

By all that Hero suffered, or defied;

The chicken's toughness, and the lack of ale

The stoney mountain and the miry vale

The Garlick steams, which half his meals enrich,

The impending vermin, and the threatened Itch,

That ever breaking Bed, beyond repair!

The hat too old, the coat too cold to wear,

The Hunger, which repulsed from Sally's door

Pursues her grumbling half from shore to shore,

Be these the themes to greet his faithful Rib

So may thy pen be smooth, thy tongue be glib!

This duty done, let me in turn demand

Some friendly office in my native land,

Yet let me ponder well, before I ask,

And set thee swearing at the tedious task.

First the Miscellany! —to Southwell town

Per coach for Mrs. Pigot frank it down,