Duke. Retire!—so
soon?
Cas. What ho! Benito!
Rupert!
His
lordship’s chambers—show his lordship
to them!
His
lordship is unwell.
(Enter Benito.)
Ben. This way, my lord!
(Exit, followed by
Politian.)
Duke. Retire! Unwell!
Bal. So please you, sir.
I fear me
’Tis
as you say—his lordship is unwell.
The
damp air of the evening—the fatigue
Of
a long journey—the—indeed I had
better
Follow
his lordship. He must be unwell.
I
will return anon.
Duke. Return anon!
Now
this is very strange! Castiglione!
This
way, my son, I wish to speak with thee.
You
surely were mistaken in what you said
Of
the Earl, mirthful, indeed!—which of us
said
Politian
was a melancholy man?
(Exeunt.)
* * * *
*
POEMS OF
YOUTH
* * * *
*
“WEST POINT, 1831
“DEAR B—
...
Believing only a portion of my former volume to be
worthy a second edition—that small portion
I thought it as well to include in the present book
as to republish by itself. I have therefore herein
combined ‘Al Aaraaf’ and ‘Tamerlane’
with other poems hitherto unprinted. Nor have
I hesitated to insert from the ‘Minor Poems,’
now omitted, whole lines, and even passages, to the
end that being placed in a fairer light, and the trash
shaken from them in which they were imbedded, they
may have some chance of being seen by posterity.
“It has been said that a good critique on a
poem may be written by one who is no poet himself.
This, according to your idea and mine
of poetry, I feel to be false—the less
poetical the critic, the less just the critique, and
the converse. On this account, and because there
are but few B——s in the world, I
would be as much ashamed of the world’s good
opinion as proud of your own. Another than yourself
might here observe, ’Shakespeare is in possession
of the world’s good opinion, and yet Shakespeare
is the greatest of poets. It appears then that
the world judge correctly, why should you be ashamed
of their favorable judgment?’ The difficulty
lies in the interpretation of the word ‘judgment’
or ‘opinion.’ The opinion is the
world’s, truly, but it may be called theirs
as a man would call a book his, having bought it; he
did not write the book, but it is his; they did not
