cacy of Pope so much shown as in this poem. With the
facts and the letters of 'Eloisa' he has done what no other mind but
that of the best and purest of poets could have accomplished with such
materials. Ovid, Sappho (in the Ode called hers)--all that we have of
ancient, all that we have of modern poetry, sinks into nothing compared
with him in this production.

"Let us hear no more of this trash about 'licentiousness.' Is not
'Anacreon' taught in our schools?--translated, praised, and edited? and
are the English schools or the English women the more corrupt for all
this? When you have thrown the ancients into the fire, it will be time
to denounce the moderns. 'Licentiousness!'--there is more real mischief
and sapping licentiousness in a single French prose novel, in a Moravian
hymn, or a German comedy, than in all the actual poetry that ever was
penned or poured forth since the rhapsodies of Orpheus. The sentimental
anatomy of Rousseau and Mad. de S. are far more formidable than any
quantity of verse. They are so, because they sap the principles by
_reasoning_ upon the _passions_; whereas poetry is in itself passion,
and does not systematise. It assails, but does not argue; it may be
wrong, but it does not assume pretensions to optimism."

Mr. Bowles having, in his pamphlet, complained of some anonymous
communication which he had received, Lord Byron thus comments on the
circumstance.

"I agree with Mr. B. that the intention was to annoy him; but I fear
that this was answered by his notice of the reception of the criticism.
An anonymous writer has but one means of knowing the effect of his
attack. In this he has the superiority over the viper; he knows that his
poison has taken effect when he hears the victim cry;--the adder is
_deaf_. The best reply to an anonymous intimation is to take no notice
directly nor indirectly. I wish Mr. B. could see only one or two of the
thousand which I have received in the course of a literary life, which,
though begun early, has not yet extended to a third part of his
existence as an author. I speak of _literary_ life only;--were I to add
_personal_, I might double the amount of _anonymous_ letters. If he
could but see the violence, the threats, the absurdity of the whole
thing, he would laugh, and so should I, and thus be both gainers.

"To keep up the farce, within the last month of this present writing
(1821), I have had my life threatened in the same way which menaced Mr.
B.'s