Tho, if I were to be dead for't,
I could never love thee, H[eadfor]t:
(Every man must have his way)
Other grey adulterers may.
But thou unamiable object,--
Dear to neither prince, nor subject;--
Veriest, meanest scab, for pelf
Fastning on the skin of Guelph,
Thou, thou must, surely, _loathe thyself._




ON THE ARRIVAL IN ENGLAND OF LORD BYRON'S REMAINS

(1824)

Manners, they say, by climate alter not:
Who goes a drunkard will return a sot.
So lordly Juan, damn'd to lasting fame,
Went out a pickle, and came back the same.




LINES

_Suggested by a Sight of Waltham Cross_

(1827)