ABSTRACT
And as to that Wordsworth! he’d been so benurst, Second childhood with him had come close on the first. 5 These worthies, however, long us’d to attack, Were not by contempt to be so driven back, But follow’d the God up, and shifting their place, Stood full in his presence, and look’d in his face, When one began spouting the cream of orations, 10 In praise of bombarding one’s friends and relations, And t’other some lines he had made on a straw, Shewing how he had found it, and what it was for, And how when ’twas balanc’d, it stood like a spell, – And how when ’twas balanc’d no longer, it fell! 15 A wild thing of scorn, he describ’d it to be – But said it was patient to heaven’s decree: Then he gaz’d upon nothing, and looking forlorn, Dropt a natural tear for that wild thing of scorn! Apollo half laugh’d betwixt anger and mirth, 20 And cried, ‘Were there ever such asses on earth?’ It is not enough that this nonsense, I fear, Has half turn’d the fine head of my friend Robert here, But another bright promise must fairly be lost, And the gifts of a God by this madman be crost. 25 What! think ye a bard’s a mere gossip who tells Of the ev’ry-day feelings of ev’ry one else; And that poetry lies, not in something select, But in gath’ring the refuse that others reject? Depart and be modest, ye driv’llers of pen, 30 My feasts are for masculine tastes, and for men.’ Then turning to Bob, he said, ‘Sit down, I beg;’ But Billy grew sulky and stirr’d not a peg; While Sam, looking soft and politely dejected, Confess’d with a tear, that ‘ ’twas what he expected, 35 Since Phœbus had fatally learnt to confide in Such prosers as Johnson and rhymers as Dryden.’
