a murmur. The first
result of this application to the noble poet will be learned from what
follows.

LETTER 96. TO LORD HOLLAND.

"Cheltenham, September 10. 1812.

"My dear Lord,

"The lines which I sketched off on your hint are still, or rather
_were_, in an unfinished state, for I have just committed them to a
flame more decisive than that of Drury. Under all the
circumstances, I should hardly wish a contest with
Philo-drama--Philo-Drury--Asbestos, H * *, and all the anonymes and
synonymes of Committee candidates. Seriously, I think you have a
chance of something much better; for prologuising is not my forte,
and, at all events, either my pride or my modesty won't let me
incur the hazard of having my rhymes buried in next month's
Magazine, under 'Essays on the Murder of Mr. Perceval,' and 'Cures
for the Bite of a Mad Dog,' as poor Goldsmith complained of the
fate of far superior performances.

"I am still sufficiently interested to wish to know the successful
candidate; and, amongst so many, I have no doubt some will be
excellent, particularly in an age when writing verse is the easiest
of all attainments.

"I cannot answer your intelligence with the 'like comfort,' unless,
as you are deeply theatrical, you may wish to hear of Mr. * *,
whose acting is, I fear, utterly inadequate to the London
engagement into which the managers of Covent Garden have lately
entered. His figure is fat, his features flat, his voice
unmanageable, his action ungraceful, and, as Diggory says, 'I defy
him to _ex_tort that d----d muffin face of his into madness.' I was
very sorry to see him in the character of the 'Elephant on the
slack rope;' for, when I last saw him, I was in raptures with his
performance. But then I was sixteen--an age to which all London
condescended to subside. After all, much better judges have
admired, and may again; but I venture to 'prognosticate a prophecy'
(see the Courier) that he will not succeed.

"So, poor dear Rogers has stuck fast on 'the brow of the mighty
Helvellyn'--I hope not for ever. My best respects to Lady H.:--her
departure, with that of my other friends, was a sad event for me,
now reduced to a state of the most cynical solitude. 'By the waters
of Cheltenham I sat down and _drank_, when I remembered thee, oh