No, grammercy ! Toil to gain reputation
By one small sonnet, 'stead of making many?
No, gramuiercy ! Or flatter sorry bunglers ?
Be terrorised by every prating paper ?
Say ceaselessly, Oh had I but the chance
Of a fair notice in the Mercury !
Grammercy, no ! Grow pale, fear, calculate?
Prefer to make a visit to a rhyme ?
Seek introductions, draw petitions up ?
No, grammercy ! and no ! and no again ! But sing!
Dream, laugh, go lightly, solitary, free,
With eyes that look straight forward fearless voice!
To cock your beaver just the way you choose,
For ' yes ' OP ' no ' show fight, or turn a rhyme !
To work without one thought of gain or fame,
To realise that journey to the moon !
Never to pen a line that has not sprung
Straight from the heart within. Embracing theu
Modesty, say to oneself, ' Good my friend,
Be thou content with flowers, fruit, nay, leaves,
But pluck them from no garden but thine own ! '
And then, if glory come by chance your way,
To pay no tribute unto Caesar, none,
But keep the merit all your own ! In short,
Disdaining tendrils of the parasite,
To be content, if neither oak nor elm
Not to mount high, perchance, but mount alone !
LE BRET.
Alone, an if you will ! But not with hand
'Gainst every man ! How in the devil's name
Have you conceived this lunatic idea,
To make foes for yourself at every turn!
