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Oh! rather give me commentators plain,
Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
Who from the read more
Oh! rather give me commentators plain,
Who with no deep researches vex the brain;
Who from the dark and doubtful love to run,
And hold their glimmering tapers to the sun.
None but an author knows an author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.
None but an author knows an author's cares,
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bears.
But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
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But words are things, and a small drop of ink,
Falling, like dew, upon a thought produces
That which makes thousands, perhaps millions think.
And hold up to the sun my little taper.
And hold up to the sun my little taper.
Smelling of the lamp.
Smelling of the lamp.
No call has ever poisoned by pen.
[Fr., Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonne ma plumme.]
No call has ever poisoned by pen.
[Fr., Aucun fiel n'a jamais empoisonne ma plumme.]
As so I penned
It down, until at last it came to be,
For length and breadth, read more
As so I penned
It down, until at last it came to be,
For length and breadth, the bigness which you see.
Apt Alliteration's artful aid.
Apt Alliteration's artful aid.
The pen is the tongue of the mind.
[Sp., La pluma es lengua del alma.]
The pen is the tongue of the mind.
[Sp., La pluma es lengua del alma.]
