, at the moment, it was only with these latter
qualities that either Lord Byron or I felt disposed to indulge
ourselves; and, in turning over the pages, we found, it must be owned,
abundant matter for mirth. In vain did Mr. Rogers, in justice to the
author, endeavour to direct our attention to some of the beauties of the
work:--it suited better our purpose (as is too often the case with more
deliberate critics) to pounce only on such passages as ministered to the
laughing humour that possessed us. In this sort of hunt through the
volume, we at length lighted on the discovery that our host, in addition
to his sincere approbation of some of its contents, had also the motive
of gratitude for standing by its author, as one of the poems was a warm
and, I need not add, well-deserved panegyric on himself. We were,
however, too far gone in nonsense for even this eulogy, in which we both
so heartily agreed, to stop us. The opening line of the poem was, as
well as I can recollect, "When Rogers o'er this labour bent;" and Lord
Byron undertook to read it aloud;--but he found it impossible to get
beyond the first two words. Our laughter had now increased to such a
pitch that nothing could restrain it. Two or three times he began; but
no sooner had the words "When Rogers" passed his lips, than our fit
burst forth afresh,--till even Mr. Rogers himself, with all his feeling
of our injustice, found it impossible not to join us; and we were, at
last, all three, in such a state of inextinguishable laughter, that, had
the author himself been of the party, I question much whether he could
have resisted the infection.

A day or two after, Lord Byron sent me the following:--

"My dear Moore,

"'When Rogers' must not see the enclosed, which I send for your
perusal. I am ready to fix any day you like for our visit. Was not
Sheridan good upon the whole? The 'Poulterer' was the first and
best.[70]

"Ever yours," &c.

1.

"When T * * this damn'd nonsense sent,
(I hope I am not violent),
Nor men nor gods knew what he meant.

2.

"And since not ev'n our Rogers' praise
To common sense his thoughts could raise--
Why _would_ they let him print his lays?

3.

* * * *

4.

* * * *

5.

"To me, divine Apollo, grant--O!
Hermilda's first and second canto,
I'm fitting up a new portmanteau;

6.

"And thus to furnish decent l