University of Virginia Library

Two Visitors to the Printing Exhibition.

G. C.
“See, Caxton, how thy name is glorified
In England, and throughout the world wide!
Thy little press i' th' Amry was indeed
Like to that little grain of mustard seed,
And now hath grown into a mighty tree
Beyond all else for leafy dignity,
Nay into many trees, which fill the land,
Laden with fruit of knowledge for the hand
Of every man to gather at his ease.”

W. C.
“Dear Poet! little joy have I in these
Mountains of inky paper, that would climb
Half-way to yonder moon in course of time
Were printed leaves indeed immortal things,
Not trivialler, the most, than May-flies' wings,
And scarce more durable. Thy learnèd clerk
Had twenty books, which he did read and mark
And get great good of. O for scribes once more!
If men thereby in poetry and lore
Might, unconfusèd, study of the best,
Think privately their own thoughts for the rest,
And do their work, and, after, take their mirth.
This Printing-Press, meseems, doth cumber earth;
Souls turn'd to words, and words to merchandize.
The good books were not written in such wise.”

G. C.
“Nay, William, we two may no longer swink,
And the world rolls, whatever we may think.
How changed is London! merely this one place
To greet us with an old familiar face.
A noisy smoky scrambling world! 'twere woe
To bide much longer here. Then let us go.
I thank thee for my Tales, be how things may.
They're children of the earth, and let them stay.”