On this rivalry Byron wrote the passage in his Diary for November 17, 1813. A further cause for the cold reception of 'Rokeby' was its inferiority both to the 'Lay' and to 'Marmion'. In Letter vii. of the 'Twopenny Post-bag', Moore writes thus of 'Rokeby'
"Should you feel any touch of 'poetical' glow, We've a Scheme to suggest--Mr. Sc--tt, you must know, (Who, we're sorry to say it, now works for the 'Row') Having quitted the Borders, to seek new renown, Is coming by long Quarto stages, to Town; And beginning with Rokeby (the job's sure to pay) Means to 'do' all the Gentlemen's Seats on the way. Now the Scheme is (though none of our hackneys can beat him) To start a fresh Poet through Highgate to 'meet' him; Who, by means of quick proofs--no revises--long coaches-- May do a few Villas before Sc--tt approaches-- Indeed, if our Pegasus be not curst shabby, He'll reach, without found'ring, at least Woburn Abbey."]
[Footnote 2: 'The Giaour', published in 1813, for which Murray paid, not Byron, but Dallas, 500 guineas.]
[Footnote 3: Kenney's 'Raising the Wind', act i. sc. 1:
"'Diddler'. O Sam, you haven't got such a thing as tenpence about you, have you?
"'Sam'. Yes. 'And I mean to keep it about me, you see'.
"'Diddler'. Oh, aye, certainly. I only asked for information."]
[Footnote 4: James MacKittrick (1728-1802), who assumed the name of Adair, published, in 1804, 'An Essay on Diet and Regimen, as indispensable to the Recovery and Preservation of Firm Health, especially to Indolent, Studious, Delicate and Invalid; with appropriate cases'.]
My Dear Lord,--The lines which I sketched off on your hint are still, or rather _were_, in an unfinished state, for I have just committed them to a flame more decisive than that of Drury [1].
Under all circumstances, I should hardly wish a contest with Philodrama--Philo-Drury--Asbestos, H----, and all the anonymes and synonymes of Committee candidates. Seriously, I think you have a chance of something much better; for prologuising is not my forte, and, at all events, either my pride or my modesty won't let me incur the hazard of having my rhymes buried in next month's Magazine, under "Essays on the Murder of Mr. Perceval." and "Cures for the Bite of a Mad Dog," as poor Goldsmith complained of the fate of far superior performances [2].