Pray observe the stern 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.

Jewels, though perchance elusive,

Crowd this casket of a book;

‘ Tis your privilege exclusive

For these hidden gems to look.

When you have adroitly caught them,

Their delights you can explain

To a public which has sought them

For so long in vain.

Tho’ you whelm me with your strictures,

Snubs which one might justly call

( Like the artist's cruel pictures )

The “unkindest cuts of Hall”!

Tho’ your sneers be fierce and many,

Honest censure I respect,

And will meekly swallow any-

Thing except neglect.

Tho’ your mouth be far from mealy,

Tho’ your pen be dipped in gall,

Criticise me frankly, freely,—

Better thus than not at all!

Up the ladder I have crept un-

Til I reached a middle rung,

Do not let me die “unwept, un-

Honoured and unhung.”