vourite, but, in order to guard himself
against the risk of becoming a convert, refused to go to see her act. I
endeavoured sometimes to persuade him into witnessing, at least, one of
her performances; but his answer was, (punning upon Shakspeare's word,
"unanealed,") "No--I'm resolved to continue _un-Oneiled_."

To the great queen of all actresses, however, it will be seen, by the
following extract from one of his journals, he rendered due justice:--

"Of actors, Cooke was the most natural, Kemble the most
supernatural,--Kean the medium between the two. But Mrs. Siddons was
worth them all put together."--_Detached Thoughts_.]

* * * * *

TO MR. MOORE.

"May 4. 1814.

"Last night we supp'd at R----fe's board, &c.[30]

"I wish people would not shirk their _dinners_--ought it not to
have been a dinner?[31]--and that d----d anchovy sandwich!

"That plaguy voice of yours made me sentimental, and almost fall in
love with a girl who was recommending herself, during your song, by
_hating_ music. But the song is past, and my passion can wait, till
the _pucelle_ is more harmonious.

"Do you go to Lady Jersey's to-night? It is a large party, and you
won't be bored into 'softening rocks,' and all that. Othello is
to-morrow and Saturday too. Which day shall we go? when shall I see
you? If you call, let it be after three, and as near four as you
please.

"Ever," &c.

[Footnote 30: An epigram here followed, which, as founded on a
scriptural allusion, I thought it better to omit.]

[Footnote 31: We had been invited by Lord R. to dine _after_ the
play,--an arrangement which, from its novelty, delighted Lord Byron
exceedingly. The dinner, however, afterwards dwindled into a mere
supper, and this change was long a subject of jocular resentment with
him.]

* * * * *

TO MR. MOORE.

"May 4. 1814.

"Dear Tom,

"Thou hast asked me for a song, and I enclose you an experiment,
which has cost me something more than trouble, and is, therefore,
less likely to be worth your taking any in your proposed
setting.[32] Now, if it be so, throw it into the fire without
_phrase_.

"Ever yours,

"BYRON.

"I speak not, I trace not, I breathe not thy name,
There is grief in the sound, there is guilt in the fame;
But the tear which n