Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/37

Rh So may'st thou prosper in the paths of Sale,

And Longman smirk and critics cease to rail.

All hail to Matthews! wash his reverend feet,

And in my name the man of Method greet,—

Tell him, my Guide, Philosopher, and Friend,

Who cannot love me, and who will not mend,

Tell him, that not in vain I shall assay

To tread and trace our "old Horatian way,"

And be (with prose supply my dearth of rhymes)

What better men have been in better times.

Here let me cease, for why should I prolong

My notes, and vex a Singer with a Song?

Oh thou with pen perpetual in thy fist!

Dubbed for thy sins a stark Miscellanist,

So pleased the printer's orders to perform

For Messrs. Longman, Hurst and Rees and Orme.

Go—Get thee hence to Paternoster Row,

Thy patrons wave a duodecimo!

(Best form for letters from a distant land,

It fits the pocket, nor fatigues the hand.)

Then go, once more the joyous work commence

With stores of anecdote, and grains of sense,