Prevod

(There are times when stern criticism is necessary.) In the room of a celebrated Scholar Lodged a Mouse—a plague upon him!—Who fed on nothing But the verse and prose he was forever gnawing. Neither a great tomcat’s watchful zeal 5 Could touch a hair of him, Nor could curious contrivances Of various ingenious mousetraps, Or realgar mixed with sweetmeats, Cure his ceaseless craving 10 To rummage through the learned man’s papers And riddle whole pages with holes. Then, as ill luck would have it, The persecuted author sent to press His works of eloquence and poetry; 15 And that mischievous creature, Who had gnawed them in manuscript before, Gnawed them all the better now in print. “What wretched luck is mine!” (The man of letters cries): “I am sick and tired 20 Of writing for a gnawing breed; And to spare myself this trouble, from now on Nothing but blank paper shall be kept in my room. I shall put an end to this disorder…” But no—the treacherous Vermin, 25 So well schooled in wicked ways, Sank his teeth into the blank paper just the same. The Author, exasperated, Pours into his ink a sufficient dose Of ground corrosive sublimate: 30 He writes (whether prose or verse, I cannot say): The wicked creature devours it, And at last bursts… “A splendid remedy!” (Said the poet turned critic): “Let him who gnaws so much beware lest I write for him 35 With a little corrosive ink.” He does well who tempers his criticism; Yet it is fitting to employ it more sternly Against unjust and offensive censure, When failure to speak with honest boldness 40 Argues little reason, or much fear.