困难是适当的沟通方式。Epist。Bob Southey!你是一位诗人——桂冠诗人，是所有种族的代表;虽然你终于变成了一个托利党，这是真的——你的情况最近很平常;现在，我的史诗叛徒!你们在干什么?和所有的湖人队在一起，在一起，在一起?在我看来，一窝乐声优美的鸟儿，就像“草地上的二十四只黑鸟”，“草地一打开，它们就开始歌唱”(这首古歌和新的比喻仍然有效)，“一道精美的菜肴，摆在国王或摄政王面前”，因为摄政王喜欢这样的食物。柯勒律治近来也展翅高飞，但像一只被头巾缠住的鹰，向国民解释玄学——我希望他能解释他的解释。你，鲍勃! are rather insolent, you know, At being disappointed in your wish To supersede all warblers here below, And be the only Blackbird in the dish; And then you overstrain yourself, or so, And tumble downward like the flying fish Gasping on deck, because you soar too high, Bob, And fall, for lack of moisture quite a-dry, Bob!IV And Wordsworth, in a rather long "Excursion" (I think the quarto holds five hundred pages), Has given a sample from the vasty version Of his new system to perplex the sages; 'Tis poetry--at least by his assertion, And may appear so when the dog-star rages-- And he who understands it would be able To add a story to the Tower of Babel.V You--Gentlemen! by dint of long seclusion From better company, have kept your own At Keswick, and, through still continu'd fusion Of one another's minds, at last have grown To deem as a most logical conclusion, That Poesy has wreaths for you alone: There is a narrowness in such a notion, Which makes me wish you'd change your lakes for Ocean.VI I would not imitate the petty thought, Nor coin my self-love to so base a vice, For all the glory your conversion brought, Since gold alone should not have been its price. You have your salary; was't for that you wrought? And Wordsworth has his place in the Excise. You're shabby fellows--true--but poets still, And duly seated on the Immortal Hill.VII Your bays may hide the baldness of your brows-- Perhaps some virtuous blushes--let them go-- To you I envy neither fruit nor boughs-- And for the fame you would engross below, The field is universal, and allows Scope to all such as feel the inherent glow: Scott, Rogers, Campbell, Moore and Crabbe, will try 'Gainst you the question with posterity.VIII For me, who, wandering with pedestrian Muses, Contend not with you on the winged steed, I wish your fate may yield ye, when she chooses, The fame you envy, and the skill you need; And, recollect, a poet nothing loses In giving to his brethren their full meed Of merit, and complaint of present days Is not the certain path to future praise.IX He that reserves his laurels for posterity (Who does not often claim the bright reversion) Has generally no great crop to spare it, he Being only injur'd by his own assertion; And although here and there some glorious rarity Arise like Titan from the sea's immersion, The major part of such appellants go To--God knows where--for no one else can know.X If, fallen in evil days on evil tongues, Milton appeal'd to the Avenger, Time, If Time, the Avenger, execrates his wrongs, And makes the word "Miltonic" mean " sublime ," He deign'd not to belie his soul in songs, Nor turn his very talent to a crime; He did not loathe the Sire to laud the Son, But clos'd the tyrant-hater he begun.XI Think'st thou, could he--the blind Old Man--arise Like Samuel from the grave, to freeze once more The blood of monarchs with his prophecies Or be alive again--again all hoar With time and trials, and those helpless eyes, And heartless daughters--worn--and pale--and poor; Would he adore a sultan? he obey The intellectual eunuch Castlereagh?XII Cold-blooded, smooth-fac'd, placid miscreant! Dabbling its sleek young hands in Erin's gore, And thus for wider carnage taught to pant, Transferr'd to gorge upon a sister shore, The vulgarest tool that Tyranny could want, With just enough of talent, and no more, To lengthen fetters by another fix'd, And offer poison long already mix'd.XIII An orator of such set trash of phrase Ineffably--legitimately vile, That even its grossest flatterers dare not praise, Nor foes--all nations--condescend to smile, Not even a sprightly blunder's spark can blaze From that Ixion grindstone's ceaseless toil, Tha