To-morrow we start to ride post near 400 miles as far as Gibraltar, where we embark for Melita and Byzantium.  A letter to Malta will find me, or to be forwarded, if I am absent.  Pray embrace the Drury and Dwyer, and all the Ephesians you encounter.  I am writing with Butler’s donative pencil, which makes my bad hand worse.  Excuse illegibility.

Hodgson! send me the news, and the deaths and defeats and capital crimes and the misfortunes of one’s friends; and let us hear of literary matters, and the controversies and the criticisms.  All this will be pleasant—­’Suave mari magno, &c.’  Talking of that, I have been sea-sick, and sick of the sea.  Adieu.

TO THOMAS MOORE

Announces his engagement

Newstead Abbey, 20 Sept. 1814.

  Here’s to her who long
  Hath waked the poet’s sigh! 
  The girl who gave to song
  What gold could never buy.

MY DEAR MOORE,

I am going to be married—­that is, I am accepted, and one usually hopes the rest will follow.  My mother of the Gracchi (that are to be), you think too strait-laced for me, although the paragon of only children, and invested with ‘golden opinions of all sorts of men’, and full of ‘most blest conditions’ as Desdemona herself.  Miss Milbanke is the lady, and I have her father’s invitation to proceed there in my elect capacity,—­which, however, I cannot do until I have settled some business in London, and got a blue coat.

She is said to be an heiress, but of that I really know nothing certainly, and shall not inquire.  But I do know, that she has talents and excellent qualities; and you will not deny her judgement, after having refused six suitors and taken me.

Now, if you have anything to say against this, pray do; my mind’s made up, positively fixed, determined, and therefore I will listen to reason, because now it can do no harm.  Things may occur to break it off, but I will hope not.  In the meantime I tell you (a secret, by the by,—­at least till I know she wishes it to be public) that I have proposed and am accepted.  You need not be in a hurry to wish me joy, for one mayn’t be married for months.  I am going to town to-morrow, but expect to be here, on my way there, within a fortnight.

If this had not happened, I should have gone to Italy.  In my way down, perhaps you will meet me at Nottingham, and come over with me here.  I need not say that nothing will give me greater pleasure.  I must, of course, reform thoroughly; and, seriously, if I can contribute to her happiness, I shall secure my own.  She is so good a person that—­that—­in short, I wish I was a better.

TO JOHN MURRAY

No bid for sweet voices

Venice, 6 April, 1819.