nsumed a particle;
And yet th' ungrateful LL.D.
Let fly at me, next week, an article!

John Wilson gave me suppers hot,
With bards of fame, like Hogg and Packwood;
A dose of black-strap then I got,
And after a still worse of Blackwood.

Alas! and must I close the list
With thee, my Lockhart of the _Quarterly?_
So kind, with bumper in thy fist,--
With pen, so very gruff and tartarly.

Now in thy parlour feasting me,
Now scribbling at me from your garret,--
Till, 'twixt the two, in doubt I be,
Which sourest is, thy wit or claret?

Should you again see the Noble Scott before he goes, remember me most
affectionately to him. Ever yours,

Thomas Moore.

Mr. Murray now found himself at liberty to proceed with his cherished
scheme of a complete edition of Lord Byron's works.

_John Murray to Mr. Moore._

February 28, 1832.

When I commenced this complete edition of Byron's works I was so out of
heart by the loss upon the first edition of the "Life," and by the
simultaneous losses from the failure of three booksellers very largely
in my debt, that I had little if any hopes of its success, and I felt
myself under the necessity of declining your kind offer to edit it,
because I did not think that I should have had it in my power to offer
you an adequate remuneration. But now that the success of this
speculation is established, if you will do me the favour to do what you
propose, I shall have great satisfaction in giving you 500 guineas for
your labours.

Most sincerely yours,

John Murray.

In 1837, the year in which the work now in contemplation was published,
the Countess Guiccioli was in London, and received much kindness from
Mr. Murray. After her return to Rome, she wrote to him a long letter,
acknowledging the beautifully bound volume of the landscape and portrait
illustrations of Lord Byron's works. She complained, however, of
Brockedon's portrait of herself.

_Countess Guiccioli to John Murray_.

"It is not resembling, and to tell you the truth, my dear Mr. Murray, I
wish it was so; not on account of the ugliness of features (which is
also remarkable), but particularly for having this portrait an
expression of _stupidity_, and for its being _molto antipatico_, as we
say in our language. But perhaps it is not the fault of the painter, but
of the original, and I am sorry for that. What is certain is that
towards such a creature nobody may feel inclined to be indulgent; and if
she ha