The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed With a Memoir by the Rev. Derwent Coleridge. Fourth Edition. In Two Volumes |
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 | The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed |  |
119
Self-satisfying discontent,
And he hath caught from cold Reviews
The one great talent, to abuse;
And so he sallies sternly forth,
Like the cold Genius of the North,
To check the heart's exuberant fulness,
And chill good humour into dullness:
Where'er he comes, his fellows shrink
Before his awful nod and wink;
And whensoe'er these features plastic
Assume the savage or sarcastic,
Mirth stands abashed, and Laughter flies,
And Humour faints, and Quibble dies.
How sour he seems!—and hark! he spoke;
We'll stop and listen to the croak;
'Twill charm us, if these happy lays
Are honoured by a fool's dispraise!—
“You think the boats well manned this year!
To you they may perhaps appear!—
I, who have seen those frames of steel,
Tuckfield, and Dixon, and Bulteel,
Can swear—no matter what I swear—
Only things are not as they were!
And then our Cricket!—think of that!
We ha'n't a tolerable Bat;
It's very true that Mr. Tucker,
Who puts the field in such a pucker,
120
What then?—we had a Hardinge once!
As for our talents, where are they?
Griffin and Grildrig had their day;
And who's the star of modern time?
Octosyllabic Peregrine;
Who pirates, puns, and talks sedition,
Without a moment's intermission;
And if he did not get a lift
Sometimes from me—and Doctor Swift,
I can't tell what the deuce he'd do!—
But this, you know, is entre nous!
I've tried to talk him into taste,
But found my labour quite misplaced;
He nibs his pen, and twists his ear,
And says he's deaf, and cannot hear;
And if I mention right or rule,—
Egad! he takes me for a fool!”
| The Poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed | |