He is a pearl within an oyster shell,
One of the richest of the deep. And there
Is English Peacock with his mountain fair,
Turned into a Flamingo, that shy bird
That gleams i’ the Indian air—have you not heard
When a man marries, dies, or turns Hindoo,
His best friends hear no more of him?—but you
Will see him, and will like him too, I hope,
With the milk-white Snowdonian antelope
Matched with this cameleopard.—His fine wit
Makes such a wound, the knife is lost in it;
A strain too learned for a shallow age,
Too wise for selfish bigots;—let his page
Which charms the chosen spirits of the time,
Fold itself up for the serener clime
Of years to come, and find its recompense
In that just expectation.—Wit and sense,
Virtue and human knowledge, all that might
Make this dull world a business of delight,
Are all combined in Horace Smith—and these,
With some exceptions which I need not tease
Your patience by descanting on,—are all
You and I know in London.
I recall...
You get the feel of an autocrat when reading Shelley, his diction come off almost abrasive, and cauterized. He's quite intense, one might be use incensed and not be too off the mark.
When a Man turns Hindoo .... ( laughs)
Of years to come, and find its recompense
In that just expectation.—Wit and sense,
Virtue and human knowledge, all that might
Make this dull world a business of delight,
Are all combined in Horace Smith—and these,
With some exceptions which I need not tease
Your patience by descanting on,—are all
You and I know in London.
I recall...
You get the feel of an autocrat when reading Shelley, his diction come off almost abrasive, and cauterized. He's quite intense, one might be use incensed and not be too off the mark.
When a Man turns Hindoo .... ( laughs)
e5