The Humourous Poetry of the English Language

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strange fate to flash all at once into notoriety, which lasted
precisely two years, to fill the court and town during that time with
continuous laughter, intermingled with inquiries who and what he was,
and then for seventeen long years to plod on unknown and unregarded,
still hearing his Hudibras quoted, and still preparing more of it, or
matter similar, with no result. He died, in almost absolute
destitution, in 1680, and was buried at a friend's expense, in the
church-yard of St. Paul's, Covent Garden.
BYROM--A noted English Jacobite. Born 1691.
BYRON, GEORGE GORDON NOEL--Born 1788, died in Greece, 1824. Respecting
his celebrated Satire on the poet Rogers, which appears in this
collection, we read the following in a London periodical:--"The satire
on Rogers, by Lord Byron, is not surpassed for cool malignity,
dexterous portraiture, and happy imagery, in the whole compass of the
English language. It is said, and by those well informed, that Rogers
used to bore Byron while in Italy, by his incessant minute
dilettantism, and by visits at hours when Byron did not care to see
him. One of many wild freaks to repel his unreasonable visits was to
set his big dog at him. To a mind like Byron's, here was sufficient
provocation for a satire. The subject, too, was irresistible. Other
inducements were not wanting. No man indulged himself more in
sarcastic remarks on his cotemporaries than Mr. Rogers. He indulged
his wit at any sacrifice. He spared no one, and Byron, consequently
did not escape. Sarcastic sayings travel on electric wings--and one of
Rogers's personal and amusing allusions to Byron reached the ears of
the poetic pilgrim at Ravenna. Few characters can bear the microscopic
scrutiny of wit. Byron suffered. Fewer characters can bear its
microscopic scrutiny when quickened by anger, and Rogers suffered still
more severely.
"This, the greatest of modern satirical portraits in verse, was written
before their final meeting at Bologna. Rogers was not aware that any
saying of his had ever reached the ear of Byron, and Byron never
published the verses on Rogers. They met like the handsome women
described by Cibber, who, though they wished one another at the devil,
are 'My dear,' and 'My dear,' whenever they meet. One doubtless
considered his saying as something to be forgotten, and the other his
verses as something not to be remembered. These verses are not included
in Byron's works, and are very little known."