th of that country. I
believe the thought would drive me mad on my deathbed, could I suppose
that any of my friends would be base enough to convey my carcass back
to your soil. I would not even feed your worms, if I could help it.

So, as Shakespeare says of Mowbray, the banished Duke of Norfolk, who
died at Venice (see _Richard II_), that he, after fighting

Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens,
And toiled with works of war, retired himself
To Italy, and there, at _Venice_, gave
His body to that _pleasant_ country's earth,
And his pure soul unto his captain, Christ,
Under whose colours he had fought so long.

Before I left Venice, I had returned to you your late, and Mr.
Hobhouse's sheets of _Juan_. Don't wait for further answers from
me, but address yours to Venice, as usual. I know nothing of my own
movements; I may return there in a few days, or not for some time.
All this depends on circumstances. I left Mr. Hoppner very well....
My daughter Allegra was well too, and is growing pretty; her hair is
growing darker, and her eyes are blue. Her temper and her ways, Mr.
Hoppner says, are like mine, as well as her features: she will make,
in that case, a manageable young lady.

I have never heard anything of Ada, the little Electra of my
Mycenae.... But there will come a day of reckoning, even if I should
not live to see it.... What a long letter I have scribbled!

PS. Here, as in Greece, they strew flowers on the tombs. I saw a
quantity of rose-leaves, and entire roses, scattered over the graves
at Ferrara. It has the most pleasing effect you can imagine.

TO THE SAME

_In rebellious mood_

Bologna, 24 _Aug_. 1819.

I wrote to you by last post, enclosing a buffooning letter for
publication, addressed to the buffoon Roberts, who has thought proper
to tie a canister to his own tail. It was written off-hand, and in the
midst of circumstances not very favourable to facetiousness, so that
there may, perhaps, be more bitterness than enough for that sort of
small acid punch:--you will tell me. Keep the _anonymous_, in any
case: it helps what fun there may be. But if the matter grow serious
about _Don Juan_, and you feel _yourself_ in a scrape, or _me_ either,
_own that I am the author. I_ will never _shrink_, and if _you_ do,
I can always answer you in the question of Guatimozin to his
minister--each being on his own coals.

I wish that I had been in better spirits; but I am out of sorts, ou