Chapter XI: Epilogue

There’s something in a stupid ass;
And something in a heavy dunce;
But never since I went to school
I heard or saw so damned a fool
As William Wordsworth is for once.

And now I’ve seen so great a fool
As William Wordsworth is for once;
I really wish that Peter Bell
And he who wrote it, were in hell,
For writing nonsense for the nonce.

I saw the “light in ninety-eight,”
Sweet Babe of one-and-twenty years!
And then he gave it to the nation,
And deems himself of Shakspeare’s Peers.
He gives the perfect works to light!
William Wordsworth――if I might advise:
Content you with the praise you get,
From Sir George Beaumont, Baronet,
And with your place in the Excise.

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A MOOD OF MY OWN MIND.

Much grieved am I in spirit by the news of this day’s post,
Which tells me of the devil to pay with the paper money host:
’Tis feared that out of all their mass of promises to pay,
The devil alone will get his due: he’ll take them at his day.

This the first verse of one of the _Paper Money Lyrics_ (in imitation of William Wordsworth) written by T. L. Peacock. The poem will be found in the third Volume of _The Works of Thomas Love Peacock_. London. R. Bentley & Son, 1875.

A great many parodies of Wordsworth are to be found in books published forty or fifty years ago, but they are, for the most part, dull and uninteresting, a few of the best only need be enumerated.

_Old Cumberland Pedlar._ In “Warreniana.” By W. F. Deacon. Longman & Co., London. 1824.

_The Stranger_, _The Flying Tailor_, and _James Rigg_. In “The Poetic Mirror.” By James Hogg. Longman & Co. London. 1816. Specimen the Fourth, in “Rejected Odes” (London, 1813), is a parody of “Alice Fell.”

_The Story of Doctor Pill and Gaffer Quake_, after the most approved modern style, and containing _Words-worth_ imitation, appeared in Vol. 10 of _The Satirist_ (London.) This is a long and spiteful parody of _Goody Blake and Harry Gill_, which was first published in _Lyrical Ballads_ (Bristol) in 1798.

“_Tim the Tacket_, a lyrical ballad, supposed to be written by W. W.” is to be found in _Poetical Works_ by William Motherwell, Paisley. Alexander Gardner. 1881. It is a fairly good imitation of style, and might pass for one of Wordsworth’s minor ballads.

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WORDSWORTH AS POET LAUREATE.

On the death of Robert Southey, in 1843, the appointment of Poet Laureate was offered to Wordsworth. At first he declined on the plea that he was too far advanced in life to undertake the duties of the office; thereupon Sir Robert Peel wrote:――“Do not be deterred by the fear of any obligations which the appointment may be supposed to imply. I will undertake that you shall have _nothing required_ from you.” Thus pressed, Wordsworth accepted the title and the pension, he being already in the receipt of a handsome annuity from the Government. The warrant was dated April 6, 1843, and he retained the office till his death in 1850. He wrote a sonnet on the occasion of his appointment, which for vanity and egotism is probably unparallelled in literature, but beyond this he paid little further attention, either to the office, or its ancient duties.[79]

MR. WORDSWORTH’S SUPPOSED ODE ON THE INSTALLATION OF H.R.H. PRINCE
ALBERT AT CAMBRIDGE, JUNE, 1847.
(_Exclusive._)

I.

Sons of the Cam, awake!
Come, stir, ye sleeping elves;
Arise, or else your Prince will take
A rise out of yourselves.
Fast man, come breakfast faster,
Slow man, drink off your sloe;
Proctor and Doctor, gyp and Master,
Do show some little go!
Ye Principals, majestical move on;
And all ye Dons, come rolling like the Don.

II.

We’ve _our_ Field Marshal now,
Let Isis pride be o’er;
Those sons of Oxon shall not cow
Our spirits as of yore.
“Pig” of St. John,
With “Fox” of Bonn,
Henceforth in learning’s feast go snacks,
And Germany
Shall crowd to see
Our Cambridge races run in Saxe.

III.

Where art thou, learned Whewell?
Thy “euge!” haste and utter;
If tired of giving freshmen gruel,
Come give the Prince fresh butter.
If all be true that Cantabs state,
Thy _cant_-ability is great.
Come, meek of speech, and bland of style,
Come, smile as thou wert wont to smile.
At fairs, you know, for hats they grin,
But here for mitres――come begin,
Lack you a theme for laughter? better
Think of your own election letter;
Or of your epitaph――“Here Whewell lies,
Master of Arts――that caused himself to rise.”

IV.

Throw up your caps in fury, O!
Shout till you’re hot and red,
_Tam marti, quam Mercurio_,
Dear is your chosen head.
He holds a _baton_ and its true,
That Wellington can’t carry two.
Waste ye the midnight oil by pails
Your chieftain claims the Prince of Wales.
At home his window-view explores
Those classic scenes displayed,
Where grateful science still adores
Her Henry’s holy shade.
He’s fit to rule, with gifts like these,
Cam――nay, Kamskatcha――if he please.

From _The Man in the Moon_. Vol. I.

SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

_Born October_ 21, 1772. _Died July_ 25, 1834.

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The poetical fame of Coleridge rests principally upon _The Rime of the Ancient Mariner_, and _Christabel_, both of which are so well known that it is quite unnecessary to reprint them, especially as Messrs. Ward, Lock & Co. have recently published a very cheap and handy edition of the miscellaneous poems of Coleridge, containing the above, as well as some other poems which, being less known, have not given rise to so many parodies.

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THE ANCIENT MARINER.

This weird poem was founded on a strange dream which a friend of Coleridge had, who fancied he saw a skeleton ship, with figures in it. Wordsworth wrote a few lines of it, and the idea of shooting an albatross appears to have been his. As Coleridge himself informs us, it was planned and partly composed during a walk with Wordsworth and his sister, in the autumn of 1797. It was first published in 1798, in a volume entitled “_Lyrical Ballads_, with a few other Poems,” Bristol, 1798. It is the opening poem of the volume, and is quaintly styled “_The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere_,” in seven parts. Most of the other poems in the volume were written by Wordsworth. The first version contained a stanza (the eleventh in Part III.) which has been omitted from all subsequent reprints:

“His bones were black with many a crack,
All black and bare I ween;
Jet black and bare, save where with rust,
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
They were patch’d with purple and green.”

The First Part, which is that most frequently parodied, is given below:――