BALLADE FOR THE LAUREATE.
(After Theodore de Banville.)
Rhyme, in a late disdainful age,
Hath many and many an eager knight,
Each man of them, to print his page,
From every quarter wings his flight!
What tons of manuscript alight
Here in the Row, how many a while
For all can rhyme, when all can write—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Like Otus some, with giant rage,
But scarcely with a giant's might,
Ossa on Pelion engage
To pile, and scale Parnassus' height!
And some, with subtle nets and slight,
Entangle rhymes exceeding vile,[8]
And wond'rous adjectives unite—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Alas, the Muse they cannot cage
These poets in a sorry plight!
Vain is the weary war they wage,
In vain they curse the Critic's spite!
While grammar some neglect outright,
While others polish with the file,
The Fates contrive their toil to blight—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Envoy.
Prince, Arnold's jewel-work is bright,
And Browning, in his iron style,
Doth gold on his rude anvil smite—
The master's yonder in the Isle!
Andrew Lang.
[8] For example 'dawning' and 'warning.'