Epilogue

THERE'S something in a stupid ass, And something in a heavy dunce; But never since I went to school I heard or saw so damned a fool As William Wordsworth is for once.

And now I've seen so great a fool As William Wordsworth is for once; I really wish that Peter Bell And he who wrote it were in hell, For writing nonsense for the nonce.

It saw the "light in ninety-eight," Sweet babe of one and twenty years! And then he gives it to the nation And deems himself of Shakespeare's peers!

He gives the perfect work to light! Will Wordsworth, if I might advise, Content you with the praise you get From Sir George Beaumont, Baronet, And with your place in the Excise!