"Criticism" - читать интересную книгу автора (Poe Edgar Allan)

an unworthy act, pockets have been picked time immemorial and
Barrington, the pickpocket, in point of genius, would have thought
hard of a comparison with William Wordsworth, the poet.
Again- in estimating the merit of certain poems, whether they be
Ossian's or M'Pherson's, can surely be of little consequence, yet,
in order to prove their worthlessness, Mr. W. has expended many
pages in the controversy. Tantaene animis? Can great minds descend
to such absurdity? But worse still: that he may bear down every
argument in favour of these poems, he triumphantly drags forward a
passage in his abomination with which he expects the reader to
sympathise. It is the beginning of the epic poem "Temora." "The blue
waves of Ullin roll in light; the green hills are covered with day,
trees shake their dusty heads in the breeze." And this- this gorgeous,
yet simple imagery, where all is alive and panting with immortality-
this, William Wordsworth, the author of "Peter Bell," has selected for
his contempt. We shall see what better he, in his own person, has to
offer. Imprimis:

And now she's at the pony's tail,
And now she's at the pony's head,
On that side now, and now on this;
And, almost stified with her bliss,
A few sad tears does Betty shed....
She pats the pony, where or when
She knows not... happy Betty Foy!
Oh, Johnny, never mind the doctor!

Secondly:

The dew was falling fast, the- stars began to blink;
I heard a voice: it said- "Drink, pretty creature, drink!"
And, looking o'er the hedge, be- fore me I espied
A snow-white mountain lamb, with a- maiden at its side.
No other sheep was near,- the lamb was all alone,
And by a slender cord was- tether'd to a stone.

Now, we have no doubt this is all true; we will believe it, indeed
we will, Mr. W. Is it sympathy for the sheep you wish to excite? I
love a sheep from the bottom of my heart.

Wordsworth is reasonable. Even Stamboul, it is said, shall have an
end, and the most unlucky blunders must come to a conclusion. Here
is an extract from his preface:-
"Those who have been accustomed to the phraseology of modern
writers, if they persist in reading this book to a conclusion
(impossible!) will, no doubt, have to struggle with feelings of
awkwardness; (ha! ha! ha!) they will look round for poetry (ha! ha!
ha! ha!), and will be induced to inquire by what species of courtesy
these attempts have been permitted to assume that title." Ha! ha!
ha! ha! ha!