Strahan, Tonson Lintot of the times, <br />Patron and publisher of rhymes, <br />For thee the bard up Pindus climbs, <br />My Murray. <br /> <br />To thee, with hope and terror dumb, <br />The unedged MS. authors come; <br />Thou printest all - and sellest some-- <br />My Murray. <br /> <br />Upon thy table's baize so green <br />The last new Quarterly is seen,-- <br />But where is thy new Magazine, <br />My Murray? <br /> <br />Along thy sprucest bookshelves shine <br />The works thou deemest most divine- <br />The 'Art of Cookery,' and mine, <br />My Murray. <br /> <br />Tours, Travels, Essays, too, I wist, <br />And Sermons, to thy mill bring grist; <br />And then thou hast the 'Navy List,' <br />My Murray. <br /> <br />And Heaven forbid I should conclude <br />Without 'the Board of Longitude,' <br />Although this narrow paper would, <br />My Murray. <br /> <br />Venice, March 25, 1818.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-mr-murray-strahan-tonson-lintot-of-the-times/
