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CLXXXV.

ON HARRISON AINSWORTH.

Say's Ainsworth to Colburn-
"A plan in my pate is
To give my romance as
A supplement, gratis."

Says Colburn to Ainsworth-
""T will do very nicely,
For that will be charging
Its value precisely."

Anon.

[From Punch. William Harrison Ainsworth was born in 1805, and has published over thirty romances. Colburn was the publisher of the magazine in which so many of Ainsworth's novels originally appeared.]

CLXXXVI.

AGAINST WRITERS WHO CARP AT OTHER MEN'S BOOKS.

The readers and the hearers like my books,

But yet some writers cannot them digest:

Yet what care I? for, when I make a feast,

I would my guests should praise it, not my cooks.

Sir John Haryngton (1561-1612).

:

G

CLXXXVII.

ON A CERTAIN THUSCUS.

Thuscus writes fair, without blur or blot,
The rascal'st rhymes were ever read, God wot.
No marvel: many with a swan's quill write,
That can but with a goose's quill endite.

Thomas Freeman (circa 1591-1614).

[Freeman is here supposed to allude to one John Davies of Hereford, more famous in his day as a writing-master than as a poet.]

CLXXXVIII.

TO A BAD AUTHOR.

Half your book is to an Index grown ;

You give your book contents, your readers none.

Pyne (circa 1616).

CLXXXIX.

ON A CERTAIN PHILO.

While faster than his costive brain indites,
Philo's quick hand in flowing letters writes;
His case appears to me like honest Teague's,
When he was run away with by his legs.
Phoebus, give Philo o'er himself command;
Quicken his senses or restrain his hand;
Let him be kept from paper, pen, and ink;
So he may cease to write, and learn to think.

Matthew Prior (1664–1721).

CXC.

ON A FINE LIBRARY.

With eyes of wonder the gay shelves behold,
Poets, all rags alive, now clad in gold.
In life and death one common fate they share,
And on their backs still all their riches wear.

[From A Collection of Epigrams (1727).]

Anon.

CXCI.

ON A CERTAIN POET.

Thy verses are eternal, O my friend,

For he that reads them reads them to no end.

[From A Collection of Epigrams (1727).]

Anon.

CXCII.

ON ONE SCRIBBLETONIUS.

Scribbletonius, thy volumes, whene'er we peruse,
This idea they always instil;-

That you pilfer'd, felonious, the brains of a goose,
When you robb'd the poor bird of a quill.

Anon.

[From An Asylum for Fugitive Pieces (1785).]

CXCII.

To GIBBS, CONCERNING HIS POEMS.

You ask me if I think your poems good;

If I could praise your poems, Gibbs,—I would.

Egerton Webbe

[From the London Journal, to which Webbe contributed several similar parodies on Martial's epigrams. See Leigh Hunt's Autobiography.]

CXCIV.

ON A BAD POEM.

Your poem must eternal be,-
Dear Sir, it cannot fail;

For 't is incomprehensible,

And wants both head and tale.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834).

CXCV.

ON A SQUINTING POETESS.

To no one Muse does she her glance confine,
But has an eye, at once, to all the Nine!

Thomas Moore (1779–1852).

CXCVI.

ON ONE WHO WOULD FAIN WRITE AN EPIGRAM.

Fired with the thirst of Fame, thus honest Sam :
"I will arise and write an epigram."

An epic, Sam, more glorious still would be,
And much more easily achieved by thee.

Richard Garnett.

CXCVII.

ON DIDACTICS IN POETRY.

Parnassus' peaks still catch the sun;
But why-O lyric brother!—
Why build a Pulpit on the one,

A Platform on the other?

Austin Dobson.

[From "A Note on Some Foreign Forms of Verse" in Latter-Day Lyrics (1878). It is perhaps hardly necessary to remind the reader that Mount Parnassus is twi-peaked.]

CXCVIII.

ON MODEST MOORE.

Moore always smiles whenever he recites;
He smiles, you think, approving what he writes?
And
yet in this no vanity is shown:

A modest man may like what's not his own.

[From Elegant Extracts (1805).]

Anon.

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