Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 7.djvu/49

Rh All ready and dressed for proceeding to spunge on

(According to compact) the wit in the dungeon—

Pray Phœbus at length our political malice

May not get us lodgings within the same palace!

I suppose that to-night you're engaged with some codgers,

And for Sotheby's Blues have deserted Sam Rogers;

And I, though with cold I have nearly my death got,

Must put on my breeches, and wait on the Heathcote;

But to-morrow, at four, we will both play the Scurra,

And you'll be Catullus, the Regent Mamurra. [First published, Letters and Journals, 1830, i. 401.]

ON LORD THURLOWS POEMS.

1.

Thurlow this damned nonsense sent,

(I hope I am not violent)

Nor men nor gods knew what he meant.