Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/28

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10
An Epistle to the Editor.
On my effusions, when good wine,To hear the critics read, assignTo other master hands than mine,Amuses one;"Oh, this is excellent," they say,"Bears it not genius' touch, I pray,"But they, in their good time and wayAre stamped "Anon."
Look closely and my gifts descry,—In truth to tell them I feel shy,As linguist, few with me will vie,For I have madeTranslations from, to, every tongue;Musicians, too, I rank among;Composer, too, of sacred song,To worship aid.
As benefactor, too, you'll find,In meliorating human kind,I do not fall in far behindThe princely donor;If my experience I'd express,The pious who relieve distressFind what flows in in happinessIs more than honour.
Pray take not my remarks amiss,Explain them alt, and then add this:"An ever-living author isOur Anon, friend."Enough, I need not more rehearse,Nor eulogise myself in verse,All I have said you will endorseFrom end to end.
If asked that you my rank assignAmongst the mighty, pray decline;Assured that safe is the last lineOn Fame's proud scroll;Then to "The Temple" walk will I,"Anonymous" sign silently,And with becoming modestyWind up the Roll!
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