232
KNICKERBOCKER GALLERY.
"Here's Coxe!" "Diffuse." "Here's Richard Haywared!" "Better."
"Here's Cheever's florid muse!" "I never met her."
"Next, Aldrich!" "Humph!" "And Tuckerman!" "Well! well!"
"And Stoddard!" "Quaint—yet blows a dainty shell."
"CRANCH!" "Paints well." "Osborn!" "Shows us in his line
The 'Vision,'[1] not the faculty divine."
"Wallace!" "He's strong—stay Hermes! let us see—
What did he write?" "And Huntington!" "Who's he?"
"Here's TAYLOR!" "Bold." "Bethue!" "Make haste! my lad."
"Fay!" "Not too good." "And Mathews!" "Not too bad."
"She-Bards, strong-minded, big with women's wrongs
Come next." "Do n't touch them with a pair of tongs!"
"Here's Cheever's florid muse!" "I never met her."
"Next, Aldrich!" "Humph!" "And Tuckerman!" "Well! well!"
"And Stoddard!" "Quaint—yet blows a dainty shell."
"CRANCH!" "Paints well." "Osborn!" "Shows us in his line
The 'Vision,'[1] not the faculty divine."
"Wallace!" "He's strong—stay Hermes! let us see—
What did he write?" "And Huntington!" "Who's he?"
"Here's TAYLOR!" "Bold." "Bethue!" "Make haste! my lad."
"Fay!" "Not too good." "And Mathews!" "Not too bad."
"She-Bards, strong-minded, big with women's wrongs
Come next." "Do n't touch them with a pair of tongs!"
Here louder thunderings all the welkin shook.
"Call up the rest of Dr. Griswold's book!
At least, all minstrels that from Gotham hail."
On this, there gathered, following Hermes' trail,
A motley crew of varied power and grade.
Far down, a group of laggards shout for aid:
"Help, there! good Mercury! 't is the toughest hill!
And we 're quite blown———" "Who wake these echoes shrill?"
"Sire! these are followers of the camp of rhyme,
Swollen with the wish without the breath to climb;
Some, novelists, that give us no new thing;
Translators some, that nothing with them bring;
Some, wrights of plays; all dullest sport exceeding;
Some, lecturers, whose tasks betray no reading,
Whose fat vocation threatens to command
All unrewarded talent of the land.
All stoop to song when they can tune afford;
And feed the Muse with droppings of their board.
As if their crumbs her pride could fail to spurn,
When their choice dishes would her stomach turn!
Rank borrowers these, though that is nothing rare,
For such, somewhat, their laurelled elders are,
Only more cunningly the theft concealing.
Your Grace will pass so light a fault as stealing?"
"We 'll pass them wholly!" burst th' indignant god;
"Nor waste on vanity the hopeless rod.
"Call up the rest of Dr. Griswold's book!
At least, all minstrels that from Gotham hail."
On this, there gathered, following Hermes' trail,
A motley crew of varied power and grade.
Far down, a group of laggards shout for aid:
"Help, there! good Mercury! 't is the toughest hill!
And we 're quite blown———" "Who wake these echoes shrill?"
"Sire! these are followers of the camp of rhyme,
Swollen with the wish without the breath to climb;
Some, novelists, that give us no new thing;
Translators some, that nothing with them bring;
Some, wrights of plays; all dullest sport exceeding;
Some, lecturers, whose tasks betray no reading,
Whose fat vocation threatens to command
All unrewarded talent of the land.
All stoop to song when they can tune afford;
And feed the Muse with droppings of their board.
As if their crumbs her pride could fail to spurn,
When their choice dishes would her stomach turn!
Rank borrowers these, though that is nothing rare,
For such, somewhat, their laurelled elders are,
Only more cunningly the theft concealing.
Your Grace will pass so light a fault as stealing?"
"We 'll pass them wholly!" burst th' indignant god;
"Nor waste on vanity the hopeless rod.
- ↑ The Vision of Kubeta.
