do you think he has enclosed me? A long dull extract from that long dull Latin epic of Petrarch’s, Africa, which he has the modesty to ask me to translate for Ugo Foscolo, who is writing some Memoirs of Petrarch, and has got Moore, Lady Dacre, &c. to contribute to. What am I to do with the death of Mago? I wish to God, Medwin, you would take it home with you, and translate it; and I will send it to Murray. We will say nothing about its being yours, or mine; and it will be curious to hear Foscolo’s opinion upon it. Depend upon it, it will not be an unfavourable one.”
In the course of the day I turned it into couplets, (and lame enough they were,) which he forwarded by the next courier to England.
Almost by return of post arrived a furiously complimentary epistle in acknowledgment, which made us laugh very heartily.
“There are three good lines[1],” said Lord Byron, “in Mago’s speech, which may be thus translated:
- ↑ Ugo Foscolo afterwards took them for his motto.
