 | Blackberries |  |
86
[Ad usum Scriptorum.]
Great haughty Critics! your great toes I kiss;And humbly pray you to consider this—
Were not a few poor devils here and there
Original authors, how would critics fare?
[Though modest, as plainly her duty]
Though modest, as plainly her duty,The Muse would prefer on the whole
A critic like Coleridge or Goethe
To Quirk, Bladder, Cowitch, or Mole.
[Snort cares not for my writings. That's but fair]
Snort cares not for my writings. That's but fair;Since I for Snort's opinions nothing care.
87
[Why, Screwnose, feel thy coldness or thy gibe?]
Why, Screwnose, feel thy coldness or thy gibe?I never wish'd to please thee or thy tribe.
[O bounce! O flea! how sharp you bite!]
O bounce! O flea! how sharp you bite!I think far more of you to-night
Than of aught else beneath the moon,
Ay, or beyond it. But how soon
I shall forget!—ev'n should I fail
To catch you on my fierce thumb-nail.
[Great Critic Zed is rarely sweet of mood.]
Great Critic Zed is rarely sweet of mood.Forgive him; he's unhappy; for he would
Be Author, even a small one, if he could.
[Arr does write books; and, to exalt his own]
Arr does write books; and, to exalt his own,On principle runs every other's down.
[Scratch also writes; and if you can and do]
Scratch also writes; and if you can and doPraise Scratch, then Scratch will honestly praise you.
88
[On one man, Pinchley, hast thou made a keen]
On one man, Pinchley, hast thou made a keenCritique (cui bono?)—on thyself, I mean.
[Descend from that high judgment-seat]
Descend from that high judgment-seat,Pomposo!—doff that robe, you Cheat!
Distributor of praise and blame,
Devoid of conscience and of shame,
Who give to ignorance and spite
Deceptive show of law and right,
By talking loud and looking big.
Off too with spectacles and wig!
Let's plainly see your wizen'd shape,
Blear eyes, huge ears, and front of ape.
By no rule, earthly or divine,
So much as one poor vote is thine.
[Who may this be, comes lounging through the door]
Who may this be, comes lounging through the doorWith stuck-up eyeglass, drawling at his ease?
Now, Cadling, in the first place, if you please,
Off with your hat!—come, try to bend your knees!—
Down, sirrah, rub your nose upon the floor!
89
[“Who wrote, tell me true]
“Who wrote, tell me true,The tremendous Review?”
“'Twas Wilkins (you know him) did that;
The beast in a hole
With its glare and its growl
Is no tiger, but just a tom-cat.”
[I've studied the Review; let me count my gains]
I've studied the Review; let me count my gains:Wilkins's opinions,—are they worth the pains?
Wilkins's opinions? No! not even these,
But what he thought would vex Timms, or Toodles please.
[Were once your Author underground]
Were once your Author underground,By Critic Mole he might be found.
[“Portrait of Peter Pallette by Himself,”]
“Portrait of Peter Pallette by Himself,”In splendid drapery and heroic pose,
(Not the smug vulgar little man one knows)—
And Brown reviews his own books, happy elf!
90
[As to bribing a newspaper—that is absurd!]
As to bribing a newspaper—that is absurd!You may “butter” an editor though, take my word.
And, merit's a very fine thing, but alas!
Success is an art, and the public's an ass.
[Ninny is nuisance enough; Dolt worse; but worst is the Blackguard.]
Ninny is nuisance enough; Dolt worse; but worst is the Blackguard.I was attack'd by all three, quietly going my ways,
Humming a tune to myself, plotting and dreading no evil.
“Pooh!” I said to the first; nothing at all to the next;
Third got a taste of my cudgel, and, leaving him rubbing his shoulders,
Off walk'd I, rather vext: “Why are such creatures at large?”
Were I to name in my verse the three obscure little wretches,
Memory of man might yield some little nook of contempt.
Nay, nay, pitiful Ninny, dense Dolt, and virulent Blackguard,
Bide in your ocean of mud, sink in it, soon disappear!
[Is Criticism of use? then, bless your eyes]
Is Criticism of use? then, bless your eyes,Why don't you try and learn to criticise?
91
[Without feeling or humour, Witticisms,—]
Without feeling or humour, Witticisms,—Flogging!
Without insight or conscience, Criticisms,—
Scragging!
[Though fools and rogues the name disgrace]
Though fools and rogues the name disgrace,The Critic hath his useful place,
To guide the floating Multitude.
How learns the Critic, subtle and shrewd?
Only from Artists' vital work.
There, every Critic rule must lurk;
Impossible else, as botany
If there grew no flower or tree.
[Critics, good-bye! in peace your trade pursue!]
Critics, good-bye! in peace your trade pursue!We nevermore will speak or think of you.
| Blackberries | |