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If to the Arab, as the Briton,
The Devil to Peter wished no worse.
When Peter's next new book found vent,
The Devil to all the first Reviews
And this short notice—“ Pray abuse.”
Appeared such mad tirades.-One said-
The last thing as he went to bed.”
Where's Dr. Willis ?-Or is he joking ?
In that barbarian Shakespeare poking ?”
One more, “Is incest not enough?
And must there be adultery too? Grace after meat ? Miscreant and Liar! Thief! Blackguard ! Scoundrel ! Fool! Hell-fire
Is twenty times too good for you.
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.”
Up in a parcel, which he had
Untied them-read them-went half mad.
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,
Consume their spirits' oil ?
“Or,” cried he, a grave look collecting,
“Is it my genius, like the moon, Sets those who stand her face inspecting, That face within their brain reflecting,
Like a crazed bell-chime, out of tune ?”
But thought, as country readers do, 1 Shelley instructed his publisher (see Shelley Me. morials, 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,
From God's own voice in a review.
All Peter did on this occasion
Was, writing some sad stuff in prose.
Is to delight, not pose.
For Born's translation of Kant's book;
Of German psychologics.---he
And then I saw that they were bad;
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.
When the book came, the Devil sent
It to P. Verbovale,' Esquire,
And set his soul on fire.
Made him beyond the bottom see
We may know more than he.
Into a walking paradox;
--Among the woods and rocks.
Lashing and spurring his tame hobby;
He half believed White Obi.
This steed in vision he would ride,
High trotting over nine-inch bridges, 1 Quasi, Qui valet verba :-i.e. all the words which have been, are, or may be expended by, for, against, with, or on him ;-a sufficient proof of the utility of this history. Peter's progenitor who selected this name seems to have possessed a pure anticipated cognition of the nature and modesty of this ornament of his posterity.
With Flibbertigibbet, imp of pride,
Over corn-fields, gates, and hedges.
After these ghastly rides, he came
Home to his heart, and found from thence Much stolen of its accustomed flame; His thoughts grew weak, drowsy, and lame
Of their intelligence.
To Peter's view, all seemed one hue ;
He was no whig, he was no tory;
Nothing, was all his glory.
XXIII. One single point in his belief
From his organization sprung, The heart-enrooted faith, the chief Ear in his doctrines' blighted sheaf,
That “ happiness is wrong;”
So think their fierce successors, who
If they might“ do their do.”
xxv. His morals thus were undermined:
The old Peter--the hard, old Potter Was born anew within his mind;