Explore "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers" by Lord Byron on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Still must I hear? - shall hoarse FITZGERALD bawl / His creaking couplets in a tavern hall, / And I not sing, lest, haply, Scotch Reviews / Should dub me scribbler, and denounce my Muse? / Prepare for rhyme - I'll publish, right or wrong: / Fools are my theme, let Satire be my song.
Oh! Nature's noblest gift - my grey goose-quill! / Slave of my thoughts, obedient to my will, / Torn from thy parent bird to form a pen, / That mighty instrument of little men! / The pen! foredoomed to aid the mental throes / Of brains that labour, big with Verse or Prose; / Though Nymphs forsake, and Critics may deride, / The Lover's solace, and the Author's pride. / What Wits! what Poets dost thou daily raise! / How frequent is thy use, how small thy praise! / Condemned at length to be forgotten quite, / With all the pages which 'twas thine to write. / But thou, at least, mine own especial pen! / Once laid aside, but now assumed again, / Our task complete, like Hamet's shall be free; / Though spurned by others, yet beloved by me: / Then let us soar to-day; no common theme, / No Eastern vision, no distempered dream / Inspires - our path, though full of thorns, is plain; / Smooth be the verse, and easy be the strain.