XVI
THE REVIEWER
Pray observe the stern Reviewer!
See with what a piercing look
He impales, as with a skewer,
This unlucky little book!
Note his gestures of impatience,
As he contemplates, perplex'd,
The amazing illustrations
Which adorn the text!
Hear him mutter, as his swivel-
Eye converges on the verse,
"Any man who writes such drivel
Must be capable of worse.
Let it be my painful mission,
As a literary man,
To suppress the whole edition,
If a critic can.
"More than tedious ev'ry pome is;
Ev'ry drawing less than true;
Such a trite and trivial tome is
Quite unworthy of review.
On this balderdash no vocal
Praises can my tongue bestow;
To the dust-bin of some local
Pulp-mill let it go!
"There its paper, disinfected
By some cunning artifice,
Shall be presently directed
To diviner ends than this.
There its pages, expurgated
By some alchemy abstruse,
Shall at length be dedicated
To a nobler use!"
Grim, implacable Reviewer,
Do not spurn it with a groan,
Tho' your labours may be fewer
If you leave my books alone!
'Tis the chief of all your duties—
Duties which you strive to shirk—
To discover hidden beauties
In an author's work.