And what was still greater in his eyes—a king!
Apollo smiled shrewdly, and bade him sit down,
With, “Well, Mr. Scott, you have managed the town;
Now, pray, copy less—have a little temerity;
Try if you can’t also manage posterity.
All you add now only lessens your credit;
And how could you think, too, of taking to edit?
A great deal’s endured where there’s measure and rhyme,
But prose such as yours is a pure waste of time—
A singer of ballads unstrung by a cough,