Like gentle rains, on the dry plains, 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. 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. "O THAT mine enemy had written A book!"-cried Job:-a fearful curse; If to the Arab, as the Briton, 'Twas galling to be critic-bitten :— The Devil to Peter wished no worse. When Peter's next new book found vent, The Devil to all the first Reviews A copy of it slily sent, With five-pound note as compliment, And this short notice-" Pray abuse." Then seriatim, month and quarter, Appeared such mad tirades.-One said "Peter seduced Mrs. Foy's daughter, Then drowned the mother in Ullswater, The last thing as he went to bed." Another-" Let him shave his head! In that barbarian Shakspeare poking?' One more, "Is incest not enough, And must there be adultery too? Grace after meat? Miscreant and Liar! 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." All these Reviews the Devil made Untied them-read them-went half-mad. "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, "What have I done to them?-and who Is Mrs. Foy? 'Tis very cruel To speak of me and Emma so! Adultery! God defend me! O I've half a mind to fight a duel. "Or," cried he, a grave look collecting, For Peter did not know the town, He bought oblivion or renown From God's own voice* in a review. All Peter did on this occasion Was, writing some sad stuff in prose. When poets criticize; their station The Devil then sent to Leipsic fair, Five thousand crammed octavo pages Who his furor verborum assuages * 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. Thereon, deserves just seven months' wages I looked on them nine several days, And then I saw that they were bad; A friend, too, spoke in their dispraise,He never read them ;--with amaze I found Sir William Drummond had. When the book came, the Devil sent Fire, which ex luce præbens fumum, Now Peter ran to seed in soul * 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. |