Two voices are there:  one is of the deep;
  It learns the storm-cloud’s thunderous melody,
  Now roars, now murmurs with the changing sea,
  Now bird-like pipes, now closes soft in sleep: 
  And one is of an old half-witted sheep
  Which bleats articulate monotony,
  And indicates that two and one are three,
  That grass is green, lakes damp, and mountains steep: 
  And, Wordsworth, both are thine:  at certain times
  Forth from the heart of thy melodious rhymes,
  The form and pressure of high thoughts will burst: 
  At other times—­good Lord!  I’d rather be
  Quite unacquainted with the A.B.C. 
  Than write such hopeless rubbish as thy worst.

EPIGRAMS
[Sidenote:  Matthew Prior]

  To John I ow’d great obligation;
    But John, unhappily, thought fit
  To publish it to all the nation: 
    Sure John and I are more than quit.

  Yes, every poet is a fool: 
    By demonstration Ned can show it: 
  Happy, could Ned’s inverted rule
    Prove every fool to be a poet.

DR. JOHNSON AT COURT
[Sidenote:  Boswell]

In February, 1767, there happened one of the most remarkable incidents of Johnson’s life, which gratified his monarchical enthusiasm, and which he loved to relate with all its circumstances, when requested by his friends.  This was his being honoured by a private conversation with his Majesty, in the library at the Queen’s House.  He had frequently visited those splendid rooms, and noble collection of books, which he used to say was more numerous and curious than he supposed any person could have made in the time which the King had employed.  Mr. Barnard, the librarian, took care that he should have every accommodation that could contribute to his ease and convenience, while indulging his literary taste in that place—­so that he had here a very agreeable resource at leisure hours.

His Majesty having been informed of his occasional visits, was pleased to signify a desire that he should be told when Dr. Johnson came next to the library.  Accordingly, the next time that Johnson did come, as soon as he was fairly engaged with a book, on which, while he sat by the fire, he seemed quite intent, Mr. Barnard stole round to the apartment where the King was, and, in obedience to his Majesty’s commands, mentioned that Dr. Johnson was then in the library.  His Majesty said that he was at leisure, and would go to him:  upon which Mr. Barnard took one of the candles that stood on the King’s table, and lighted his Majesty through a suite of rooms, till they came to a private door into the library, of which his Majesty had the key.  Being entered, Mr. Barnard stepped forward hastily to Dr. Johnson, who was still in a profound study, and whispered him, “Sir, here is the King.”  Johnson started up, and stood still.  His Majesty approached him, and at once was courteously easy.