IF those who wield the Rod forget, 'Tis truly -- Quis custodiet? A certain Bard (as Bards will do) Dressed up his Poems for Review. His Type was plain, his Title clear; His Frontispiece by FOURDRINIER. Moreover, he had on the Back A sort of sheepskin Zodiac; -- A Mask, a Harp, an Owl, -- in fine, A neat and 'classical' Design. But the in-Side? -- Well, good or bad, The Inside was the best he had: Much Memory, -- more Imitation; -- Some Accidents of Inspiration; -- Some Essays in that finer Fashion Where Fancy takes the place of Passion; -- And some (of course) more roughly wrought To catch the Advocates of Thought. In the less-crowded Age of ANNE, Our Bard had been a favoured Man; Fortune, more chary with the Sickle, Had ranked him next to GARTH or TICKELL; -- He might have even dared to hope A Line's Malignity from POPE! But now, when Folks are hard to please, And Poets are as thick as -- Peas, The Fates are not so prone to flatter, Unless, indeed, a Friend ... No Matter. The Book, then, had a minor Credit: The Critics took, and doubtless read it. Said A. -- These little Songs display No lyric Gift; but still a Ray, -- A Promise. They will do no Harm. 'Twas kindly, if not very warm. Said B. -- The Author may, in Time, Acquire the Rudiments of Rhyme: His Efforts now are scarcely Verse. This, certainly, could not be worse. Sorely discomfited, our Bard Worked for another ten Years -- hard. Meanwhile the World, unmoved, went on; New Stars shot up, shone out, were gone; Before his second Volume came His Critics had forgot his Name: And who, forsooth, is bound to know Each Laureate in embryo! They tried and tested him, no less, -- The sworn Assayers of the Press. Said A. -- The Author may, in Time.... Or much what B. had said of Rhyme. Then B. -- These little Songs display.... And so forth, in the sense of A. Over the Bard I throw a Veil. There is no MORAL to this Tale. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST WORD by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE LAST CAESAR, 1851-1870 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH AT THE LATTICE by ALFRED AUSTIN SONNET: 8. TO THE RIVER ITCHIN, NEAR WINTON by WILLIAM LISLE BOWLES MATRIMONIAL MELODIES: 3. SYSTEM by BERTON BRALEY |