., "wrung from me
with slow pain."

The fact is, my head is seldom cool enough. I am dreadfully indolent. To
have to do anything-to order me a new coat, for instance, tho' my old
buttons are shelled like beans-- is an effort.

My pen stammers like my tongue. What cool craniums
those old enditers of Folios must have had. What a mortify'd
pulse. Well, once more I throw myself on your mercy--
Wishing peace in thy new dwelling-- C. LAMB.

[The Lambs gave up their "country lodgings" at Dalston on moving to
Colebrooke Row.

"The album." See next letter to Barton.

"The Prometheus Unbound." A bookseller, asked for _Prometheus Unbound_,
Shelley's poem, had replied that _Prometheus_ was not to be had "in
sheets." _Elfrida_ was a dramatic poem by William Mason, Gray's friend.

This is Shelley's poem (not a sonnet) which Lamb liked:--

LINES TO A REVIEWER

Alas! good friend, what profit can you see
In hating such an hateless thing as me?
There is no sport in hate, where all the rage
Is on one side. In vain would you assuage
Your frowns upon an unresisting smile,
In which not even contempt lurks, to beguile
Your heart by some faint sympathy of hate.
Oh conquer what you cannot satiate!
For to your passion I am far more coy
Then ever yet was coldest maid or boy
In winter-noon. Of your antipathy
If I am the Narcissus, you are free
To pine into a sound with hating me.

Hazlitt writes of Shelley in his essay "On Paradox and Commonplace" in
_Table Talk_; but he does not make this remark there. Perhaps he said it
in conversation.

"The next Number." The "futile Effort" was "Blakesmoor in H----shire" in
the _London Magazine_ for September, 1824.

Here should come a note from Lamb to Cary, August 19, 1824, in which
Lamb thanks him for his translation of _The Birds_ of Aristophanes and
accepts an invitation to dine.]

LETTER 352

CHARLES LAMB TO BERNARD BARTON

[Dated at end: September 30, 1824.]

Little Book! surnam'd of White;
Clean, as yet, and fair to sight;
Keep thy attribution right,

Never disproportion'd scrawl;
Ugly blot, that's worse than all;
On thy maiden clearness fall.

In each Letter, here design'd,
Let the Reader emblem'd find
Neatness of the Owner's mind.