It is very unlikely that you will escape as did
Narcissus, for though, indeed,
'He swept a fine majestic sweep
Of toga Tennysonian,
Wore strange soft hat, that such as you
Would tremble to be known in,'
nevertheless, he somehow won happier fates, on which, perhaps, it would
be unbecoming in so close a friend to dilate.
The 'true' poet is, first of all, a gentleman, usually modest, never
arrogant, and only assertive when pushed. He does not by instinct take
himself seriously, as the 'poet-ape' doth, though if he meets with
recognition it becomes, of course, his duty to acknowledge his faculty,
and make good Scriptural use of it.
He is probably least confident, however, when praised; and never, except
in rare moments, especially of eclipse, has he a strong faith in the
truth that is in him. Therefore crush him, saith the Philistine, as we
crush the vine; strike him, as one strikes the lyre. When young, he
imagines the world to be filled with one ambition; later on, he finds
that so indeed it is--but the name thereof is not Poesy. Strange! sighs
he. And if, when he is seventeen, he writes a fluent song, and his
fellow-clerk admire it, why, it is nothing; surely the ledger-man hath
such scraps in his poke, or at least can roll off better. 'True bards
believe all able to achieve what they achieve,' said Naddo. But lo! that
ambition is a word that begins with pounds and ends with pence--like
life, quoth the ledger-man, who, after all, had but card-scores, a
tailor's account, and the bill for his wife's confinement in his pocket.
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