THE DEATH-WAKE

OR LUNACY




_Sonnet to the Author_

_O wormy Thomas Stoddart who inheritest
Rich thoughts and loathsome, nauseous words, & rare!
Tell me, my friend, why is it that thou ferretest
And gropest in each death-corrupted lair?
Seek'st thou for maggots, such as have affinity
With those in thine own brain? or dost thou think
That all is sweet which hath a horrid stink?
Why dost thou make Hautgout thy sole divinity?
Here is enough of genius to convert
Vile dung to precious diamonds, and to spare,
Then why transform the diamond into dirt,
And change thy mind w^h. sh^d. be rich & fair
Into a medley of creations foul,
As if a Seraph would become a Goul?_

_W.E.A._

_1834_