Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE POET AND THE CRITICS, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE POET AND THE CRITICS, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: If those who wield the rod forget
Last Line: There is no moral to this tale.
Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin
Subject(s): Critics & Criticism; Poetry & Poets


IF those who wield the Rod forget,
'Tis truly -- Quis custodiet?

A certain Bard (as Bards will do)
Dressed up his Poems for Review.
His Type was plain, his Title clear;
His Frontispiece by FOURDRINIER.
Moreover, he had on the Back
A sort of sheepskin Zodiac; --
A Mask, a Harp, an Owl, -- in fine,
A neat and 'classical' Design.
But the in-Side? -- Well, good or bad,
The Inside was the best he had:
Much Memory, -- more Imitation; --
Some Accidents of Inspiration; --
Some Essays in that finer Fashion
Where Fancy takes the place of Passion; --
And some (of course) more roughly wrought
To catch the Advocates of Thought.

In the less-crowded Age of ANNE,
Our Bard had been a favoured Man;
Fortune, more chary with the Sickle,
Had ranked him next to GARTH or TICKELL; --
He might have even dared to hope
A Line's Malignity from POPE!
But now, when Folks are hard to please,
And Poets are as thick as -- Peas,
The Fates are not so prone to flatter,
Unless, indeed, a Friend ... No Matter.
The Book, then, had a minor Credit:
The Critics took, and doubtless read it.
Said A. -- These little Songs display
No lyric Gift; but still a Ray, --
A Promise. They will do no Harm.
'Twas kindly, if not very warm.
Said B. -- The Author may, in Time,
Acquire the Rudiments of Rhyme:
His Efforts now are scarcely Verse.
This, certainly, could not be worse.

Sorely discomfited, our Bard
Worked for another ten Years -- hard.
Meanwhile the World, unmoved, went on;
New Stars shot up, shone out, were gone;
Before his second Volume came
His Critics had forgot his Name:
And who, forsooth, is bound to know
Each Laureate in embryo!
They tried and tested him, no less, --
The sworn Assayers of the Press.
Said A. -- The Author may, in Time....
Or much what B. had said of Rhyme.
Then B. -- These little Songs display....
And so forth, in the sense of A.
Over the Bard I throw a Veil.

There is no MORAL to this Tale.





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