On the Neglect of True Merit
Fashion and Folly always follow Fame,
Which Merit, slowly paced, is slow to claim.
The gaudy and the mean men love to praise,
But quiet Merit lives for other days.
There's pleasant CRUIKSHANK, hearty RIPPINGILLE,
And quiet HILTON, of diviner skill;
There's simple ETTY, never vain or proud,
Are left as common men among the crowd:
But Fame keeps watch and looks for other days,
And Merit claims for them diviner praise;
The others left behind have nought to claim,
And Merit wonders how they got to Fame;
For Merit still will live above the mean,
And CRUIKSHANK is what HOGARTH would have been.
Which Merit, slowly paced, is slow to claim.
The gaudy and the mean men love to praise,
But quiet Merit lives for other days.
There's pleasant CRUIKSHANK, hearty RIPPINGILLE,
And quiet HILTON, of diviner skill;
There's simple ETTY, never vain or proud,
Are left as common men among the crowd:
But Fame keeps watch and looks for other days,
And Merit claims for them diviner praise;
The others left behind have nought to claim,
And Merit wonders how they got to Fame;
For Merit still will live above the mean,
And CRUIKSHANK is what HOGARTH would have been.
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