FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66  
67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   >>   >|  
will at last be put into free quarters for life in some shady alcove upon some lofty shelf, with unlimited rations of dust, as you glide into a vermiculate dotage. Why should you be faint-hearted, when the men of the stalls ask such a breath-stretching price for the productions of William Whitehead, Esq., who used to celebrate the birthdays of old George the Third after this fashion:-- "And shall the British lyre be mute, Nor thrill through all its trembling strings, With oaten reed and pastoral flute While every vale responsive rings?" Ben Jonson called Inigo Jones Sir Lanthorn Leatherhead, but St. Paul's still stands; and how many flies are there in the sparkling amber of "The Dunciad"! Have the critics, poor birdling, torn your wings, and mocked at your recording? I know, as Howell wrote to "Father Ben," that "the fangs of a bear and the tusks of a wild-boar don't bite worse and make deeper gashes than a goose-quill sometimes; no, not the badger himself, who is said to be so tenacious of his bite that he will not give over his hold until he feels his teeth meet and bone crack." I know all about it, my minstrel boy! for have I not, in my day, given and taken, and shouldered back again when I have been shouldered? Pray, do not finger your eyes any longer! Screw your lyre up to concert pitch, and go on with your stridulous performances! Neither you nor I know how bad may be the taste of our grandchildren, or how high you may stand when they have "Made prostitute and profligate the Muse." If you cannot be a poet, be a poetaster; and if you cannot be that, be a poetess, or "she-poet," as Johnson, in his big dictionary, defines the word. So "gently take all that ungently comes," and hammer away as sedulously as old Boileau. Somebody will, undoubtedly, in the next age, relish your rinsings. A poet, you know, is a prophet. Console yourself by vaticinating in the bower of your bed-chamber, as you count the feet upon your fingers, your own immortality. If 'tis a delusion, 'tis a cheap one, to which even a poet can afford to treat himself. Play with and humor your life, till you fall asleep, and then the care will be over! Meanwhile, you must be more stupid than I think, if you cannot find somebody to give you your fodder of flattery. You need not blush, for I know that you like it, and you need not be ashamed of liking it. We all do,--we are all women in that regard; although the honestest man to confess i
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   42   43   44   45   46   47   48   49   50   51   52   53   54   55   56   57   58   59   60   61   62   63   64   65   66  
67   68   69   70   71   72   73   74   75   76   77   78   79   80   81   82   83   84   85   86   87   88   89   90   91   >>   >|  



Top keywords:
shouldered
 

Johnson

 

poetaster

 

poetess

 
prostitute
 

profligate

 
quarters
 

defines

 
hammer
 
sedulously

Boileau

 

undoubtedly

 

Somebody

 

ungently

 

gently

 
dictionary
 
longer
 

concert

 

finger

 
grandchildren

stridulous

 

performances

 

Neither

 

stupid

 

flattery

 

fodder

 

asleep

 

Meanwhile

 
honestest
 
confess

regard

 
ashamed
 

liking

 

vaticinating

 

chamber

 

rinsings

 

relish

 
prophet
 

Console

 
fingers

afford

 

immortality

 

delusion

 
alcove
 
Lanthorn
 

Leatherhead

 

called

 

Jonson

 

responsive

 

breath