Of what beyond these things may lie, IX. For in his thought he visited The spots in which, ere dead and damned, He his wayward life had led; Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed, Which thus his fancy crammed. X. And these obscure remembrances XI. For though it was without a sense He knew something of heath, and fell. XII. He had also dim recollections Of pedlars tramping on their rounds; Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections Of saws, and proverbs; and reflexions Old parsons make in burying-grounds. XIII. But Peter's verse was clear, and came It augured to the Earth: XIV. Like gentle rains, on the dry plains, XV. For language was in Peter's hand, Gave twenty pounds for some;-then scorning A footman's yellow coat to wear, Peter, too proud of heart, I fear, Instantly gave the Devil warning. XVII. Whereat the Devil took offence, And swore in his soul a great oath then, "That for his damned impertinence, He'd bring him to a proper sense Of what was due to gentlemen!" PART THE SIXTH. DAMNATION. I. "O THAT mine enemy had written A book!"-cried Job:- If to the Arab, as the Briton, II. When Peter's next new book found vent, A copy of it slily sent, With five-pound note as compliment, And this short notice-" Pray abuse." III. Then seriatim, month and quarter, IV. Another "Let him shave his head! In that barbarian Shakespeare poking?" V. One more, "Is incest not enough? 66 VI. 'By that last book of yours we think You've double damned yourself to scorn; We warned you whilst yet on the brink You stood. From your black name will shrink The babe that is unborn." VII. All these Reviews the Devil made VIII. "What!" cried he, "this is my reward For nights of thought, and days of toil? Do poets, but to be abhorred By men of whom they never heard, IX. What have I done to them ?-and who X. "Or," cried he, a grave look collecting, Is it my genius, like the moon, 66 Sets those who stand her face inspecting, That face within their brain reflecting, Like a crazed bell-chime, out of tune?" XI. For Peter did not know the town, But thought, as country readers do, 1 Shelley instructed his publisher (see Shelley Memorials, pp. 138-9) to read Betty for Emma as the name of Peter's sister. "Emma," he says, "I recollect, is the real name of the sister of a great poet who might be mistaken for Peter." Betty, being the name of Mrs. Foy, was not a fortunate name to substitute; and, when the poem was published in 1839, Mrs. Shelley gave the name as Emma.-ED. For half a guinea or a crown, He bought oblivion or renown From God's own voice' in a review. XII. All Peter did on this occasion Was, writing some sad stuff in prose. It is a dangerous invasion When poets criticize; their station XIII. The Devil then sent to Leipsic fair, For Born's translation of Kant's book; fair, As in a lottery-wheel are shook. XIV. Five thousand crammed octavo pages Thereon, deserves just seven months' wages XV. I looked on them nine several days, I found Sir William Drummond had. Vox populi, vox dei. As Mr. Godwin truly observes of a more famous saying, of some merit as a popular maxim, but totally destitute of philosophical accuracy. |