  As long I dwell on some stupendous And tremendous (Heaven defend us!) Monstr’inform’-ingens-horrendous Demoniaco-seraphic Penman’s latest piece of graphic.—Browning. WILL there never come a season Which shall rid us from the curse Of a prose which knows no reason, When the world shall cease to wonder At the genius of an Ass, And a boy’s eccentric blunder Shall not bring success to pass?— When mankind shall be delivered From the clash of magazines, And the inkstand shall be shivered Into countless smithereens?— When there stands a muzzled stripling, Mute, beside a muzzled bore?— When the Rudyards cease from Kipling, And the Haggards Ride no more? J. K. Stephen. |
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