would make but a poor substitute for a Shakespeare. Eternity will not
rake the bottom of the sea of oblivion for puffs and praises, and
all their attendant rubbish, the feelings that the fashion of the day
created, and the flatteries uttered. Eternity will estimate things at
their proper value, and no other. She will not even seek for the
newspaper praise of Walter Scott. She will not look for Byron's
immortality in the company of Warren's blacking, Prince's kalydor,
and Atkinson's bear's grease. She looks for it in his own merit, and
her impartial judgment will be his best reward.

Wordsworth has had little share of popularity, though he bids fair to
be as great in one species of poetry as Byron was in another, but to
acknowledge such an opinion in the world's ear would only pucker the
lips of fashion into a sneer against it. Yet his lack of living
praise is no proof of his lack of genius. The trumpeting clamour of
public praise is not to be relied on as the creditor of the future.
The quiet progress of a name gaining ground by gentle degrees in the
world's esteem is the best living shadow of fame to follow. The
simplest trifle and the meanest thing in nature is the same now as it
shall continue to be till the world's end.

Men trample grass and prize the flowers in May,
But grass is green when flowers do fade away.




SCRAPS FOR AN ESSAY ON CRITICISM AND FASHION

None need be surprised to see these two false prophets in partnership