“P.S.  I regret that you have not completed the Italian Fudges.  Pray, how come you to be still in Paris?  Murray has four or five things of mine in hand—­the new Don Juan, which his back-shop synod don’t admire;—­a translation of the first Canto of Pulci’s Morgante Maggiore, excellent;—­short ditto from Dante, not so much approved; the Prophecy of Dante, very grand and worthy, &c. &c. &c.;—­a furious prose answer to Blackwood’s Observations on Don Juan, with a savage Defence of Pope—­likely to make a row.  The opinions above I quote from Murray and his Utican senate;—­you will form your own, when you see the things.

     “You will have no great chance of seeing me, for I begin to think
     I must finish in Italy.  But, if you come my way, you shall have a
     tureen of macaroni.  Pray tell me about yourself, and your intents.

     “My trustees are going to lend Earl Blessington sixty thousand
     pounds (at six per cent.) on a Dublin mortgage.  Only think of my
     becoming an Irish absentee!”

[Footnote 73:  According to his desire, I waited upon this young lady, having provided myself with a rouleau of fifteen or twenty Napoleons to present to her from his Lordship; but, with a very creditable spirit, my young countrywoman declined the gift, saying that Lord Byron had mistaken the object of her application to him, which was to request that, by allowing her to have the sheets of some of his works before publication, he would enable her to prepare early translations for the French booksellers, and thus afford her the means of acquiring something towards a livelihood.]

* * * * *

LETTER 375.  TO MR. HOPPNER.

     “Ravenna, May 25. 1820.

“A German named Ruppsecht has sent me, heaven knows why, several Deutsche Gazettes, of all which I understand neither word nor letter.  I have sent you the enclosed to beg you to translate to me some remarks, which appear to be Goethe’s upon Manfred—­and if I may judge by two notes of admiration (generally put after something ridiculous by us) and the word ‘hypocondrisch,’ are any thing but favourable.  I shall regret this, for I should have been proud of Goethe’s good word; but I sha’n’t alter my opinion of him, even though he should be savage.

     “Will you excuse this trouble, and do me this favour?—­Never
     mind—­soften nothing—­I am literary proof—­having had good and evil
     said in most modern languages.

     “Believe me,” &c.

* * * * *

LETTER 376.  TO MR. MOORE.

     “Ravenna, June 1. 1820,