The Love Affairs Of A Bibliomaniac [52]
own country, through the industry of my good and most devout master, Egbert. I therefore entreat your Excellence to permit me to send into Britain some of our youths to procure those books which we so much desire, and thus transplant into France the flowers of Britain, that they may fructify and perfume, not only the garden at York, but also the Paradise of Tours, and that we may say in the words of the song: `Let my beloved come into his garden and eat his pleasant fruit;' and to the young: `Eat, O friends; drink, yea, drink abundantly, O beloved;' or exhort in the words of the prophet Isaiah: `Every one that thirsteth to come to the waters, and ye that have no money, come ye, buy and eat: yea, come buy wine and milk, without money and without price.' ''
I was meaning to have somewhat to say about Alcuin, and had intended to pay my respects to Canute, Alfred, the Abbot of St. Albans, the Archbishop of Salzburg, the Prior of Dover, and other mediaeval worthies, when Judge Methuen came in and interrupted the thread of my meditation. The Judge brings me some verses done recently by a poet-friend of his, and he asks me to give them a place in these memoirs as illustrating the vanity of human confidence.
One day I got a missive Writ in a dainty hand, Which made my manly bosom With vanity expand. 'T was from a ``young admirer'' Who asked me would I mind Sending her ``favorite poem'' ``In autograph, and signed.''
She craved the boon so sweetly That I had been a churl Had I repulsed the homage Of this gentle, timid girl; With bright illuminations I decked the manuscript, And in my choicest paints and inks My brush and pen I dipt.
Indeed it had been tedious But that a flattered smile Played on my rugged features And eased my toil the while. I was assured my poem Would fill her with delight-- I fancied she was pretty-- I knew that she was bright!
And for a spell thereafter That unknown damsel's face With its worshipful expression Pursued me every place; Meseemed to hear her whisper: ``O, thank you, gifted sir, For the overwhelming honor You so graciously confer!''
But a catalogue from Benjamin's Disproves what things meseemed-- Dispels with savage certainty The flattering dreams I dreamed; For that poor ``favorite poem,'' Done and signed in autograph, Is listed in ``Cheap Items'' At a dollar-and-a-half.
The End
I was meaning to have somewhat to say about Alcuin, and had intended to pay my respects to Canute, Alfred, the Abbot of St. Albans, the Archbishop of Salzburg, the Prior of Dover, and other mediaeval worthies, when Judge Methuen came in and interrupted the thread of my meditation. The Judge brings me some verses done recently by a poet-friend of his, and he asks me to give them a place in these memoirs as illustrating the vanity of human confidence.
One day I got a missive Writ in a dainty hand, Which made my manly bosom With vanity expand. 'T was from a ``young admirer'' Who asked me would I mind Sending her ``favorite poem'' ``In autograph, and signed.''
She craved the boon so sweetly That I had been a churl Had I repulsed the homage Of this gentle, timid girl; With bright illuminations I decked the manuscript, And in my choicest paints and inks My brush and pen I dipt.
Indeed it had been tedious But that a flattered smile Played on my rugged features And eased my toil the while. I was assured my poem Would fill her with delight-- I fancied she was pretty-- I knew that she was bright!
And for a spell thereafter That unknown damsel's face With its worshipful expression Pursued me every place; Meseemed to hear her whisper: ``O, thank you, gifted sir, For the overwhelming honor You so graciously confer!''
But a catalogue from Benjamin's Disproves what things meseemed-- Dispels with savage certainty The flattering dreams I dreamed; For that poor ``favorite poem,'' Done and signed in autograph, Is listed in ``Cheap Items'' At a dollar-and-a-half.
The End