'Jamais les arbres verts n'ont essaye d'etre bleus.' -- THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 'A NEW Review!' You make me tremble (Though as to that, I can dissemble Till I hear more). But is it 'new'? And will it be a real Review? -- I mean, a Court in which the scales Weigh equally both him that fails, And him that hits the mark? -- a place Where the accus'd can plead his case, If wrong'd? All this I need to know Before I (arrogant!) say 'Go.' 'We, that are very old' (the phrase IS STEELE'S, not mine!), in former days, Have seen so many 'new Reviews' Arise, arraign, absolve, abuse; -- Proclaim their mission to the top (Where there's still room!), then slowly drop, Sink down, fade out, and sans preferment, Depart to their obscure interment; -- We should be pardon'd if we doubt That a new venture can hold out. It will, you say. Then don't be 'new'; Be 'old.' The Old is still the True. Nature (said GAUTIER) never tries To alter her accustom'd dyes; And all your novelties at best Are ancient puppets, newly drest. What you must do, is not to shrink From speaking out the thing you think; And blaming where 'tis right to blame Despite tradition and a Name. Yet don't expand a trifling blot, Or ban the book for what it's not (That is the poor device of those Who cavil where they can't oppose!); Moreover (this is very old!), Be courteous -- even when you scold! Blame I put first, but not at heart. You must give Praise the foremost part; -- Praise that to those who write is breath Of Life, if just; if unjust, Death. Praise then the things that men revere; Praise what they love, not what they fear; Praise too the young; praise those who try; Praise those who fail, but by and by May do good work. Those who succeed, You'll praise perforce, -- so there's no need To speak of that. And as to each, See you keep measure in your speech; -- See that your praise be so exprest That the best man shall get the best; Nor fail of the fit word you meant Because your epithets are spent. Remember that our language gives No limitless superlatives; And SHAKESPEARE, HOMER, should have more Than the last knocker at the door! 'We, that are very old!' -- May this Excuse the hint you find amiss. My thoughts, I feel, are what to-day Men call vieux jeu. Well! -- 'let them say.' The Old, at least, we know: the New (A changing Shape that all pursue!) Has been, -- may be, a fraud. -- But there! Wind to your sail! Vogue la galere! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP by ROBERT BROWNING THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by SAMUEL ROGERS TO R.K. by JAMES KENNETH STEPHEN AVE ATQUE VALE; IN MEMORY OF CHARLES BAUDELAIRE by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE ISLE OF BEAUTY by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY A SUPERSTITION REVISITED by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |