Incipit
The Simple Speller’s Tale (Translated into English) When first among the amateurs I fell, I blush’d in shame because I could not spell. Though skill’d in numbers, and at ease in prose, My letters I could never well dispose. Thoughts came abundant, language was the same; Yet none the less I scarce could spell my name! The kindly printer (with an eye for trade) A clumsy care for all my work display’d; Indiff’rent as I was, I used his art Till critics cry’d, “My printer should be shot”! Thus boldly censur’d, I began to seek A means to thwart the rude reviewers’ clique: My fever’d ey …
442 mots · Poésie · texte intégral sur Wikisource.
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