Byron, Don Juan, fragment din dedicatie: And Wordsworth in a rather long Excursion (I think the quarto holds five hundred pages) Has given a sample from the vasty version Of his new system to perplex the sages. Tis poetry, at least by his assertion, And may appear so when the Dog Star rages, And he who understands it would be able To add a story to the tower of Babel. You gentlemen, by dint of long seclusion From better company, have kept your own At Keswick, and through still continued fusion Of one anothers minds at last have grown To deem, as a most logical conclusion, That poesy has wreaths for you alone. There is a narrowness in such a notion, Which makes me wish youd change your lakes for ocean. I would not imitate the petty thought, Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice, For all the glory your conversion brought, Since gold alone should not have been its price. You have your salary; wast for that you wrought? And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise. Youre shabby fellows—true—but poets still And duly seated on the immortal hill. Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows, Perhaps some virtuous blushes; let them go. To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs, And for the fame you would engross below, The field is universal and allows Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow. Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore, and Crabbe will try Gainst you the question with posterity. For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses, Contend not with you on the winged steed, I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses, The fame you envy and the skill you need. And recollect a poet nothing loses In giving to his brethren their full meed Of merit, and complaint of present days Is not the certain path to future praise. gutenberg.org/files/21700/21700-h/21700-h.htm
Posted on: Sat, 22 Mar 2014 10:28:33 +0000
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