<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396108" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Fragment Of An Epistle To Thomas Moore</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">'What say I?'--not a syllable further in prose;<br>I'm your man 'of all measures,' dear Tom,--so here goes!<br>Here goes, for a swim on the stream of old Time,<br>On those buoyant supporters, the blad­ders of rhyme.<br>If our weight breaks them down, and we sink in the flood, <br>We are smother'd, at least, in respectable mud,<br>Where the Divers of Bathos lie drown'd in a heap,<br>And Southey's last Pæan has pillow'd his sleep;<br>That Felo de se,' who, half drunk with his malmsey,<br>Walk'd out of his depth and was lost in a calm sea, <br>Singing 'Glory to God' in a spick and span stanza,<br>The like (since Tom Sternhold was choked) never man saw.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The papers have told you, no doubt, of the fusses,<br>The fetes, and the gapings to get at these Russes,--<br>Of his Majesty's suite, up from coach­man to Hetman, <br>And what dignity decks the flat face of the great man.<br>I saw him, last week, at two balls and a party,--<br>For a prince, his demeanour was rather too hearty.<br>You know we are used to quite different graces,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Czar's look, I own, was much brighter and brisker, <br>But then he is sadly deficient in whisker;<br>And wore but a starless blue coat, and in kersey--<br>Mere breeches whisk'd round, in a waltz with the Jersey,<br>Who lovely as ever, seem'd just as delighted<br>With Majesty's presence as those she invited. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">June 1814.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Byron">Byron</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=396108" data-title="Fragment Of An Epistle To Thomas Moore de Byron" data-description="'What say I?'--not a syllable further in prose; I'm your man 'of all measures,' dear Tom,--so here goes! Here goes, for a swim on the stream of old Time, On those buoyant supporters, the blad­ders of rhyme. If our weight breaks them down, and we ..."></div> </div> </div>

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