“Then this strange trick beguiling my phrenzy into smiling, By the cool audacious impudence his brazen features wore―― Tho’ thy hat is old and napless, thou, I said, art sure not sapless, Young and tender in thy hapless wand’rings from thy mother’s shore; Tell me why thy _business_ here is on this dark and dismal floor?” Quoth the Author, ‘Read _this_ o’er.’” “Much I wonder’d this ambitious youth to see an act so vicious, Tho’ its answer good deal meaning, I voted him a bore―― For we cannot help believing that no genius living grieving Ever yet was blind in seeing a Manuscript read o’er By the ‘Reader’ in a book-shop, or Book-boy in a store, Yet he cried on, ‘Read it o’er!’” “Startled at the stillness broken by reply so greenly spoken, Said I, ‘Before like POE you flutter you should like BRYANT soar Forc’d from some disaster――perhaps you think to master Something in the Markette faster, faster than was ever sold before Till the bird-en of your hopes is ‘Read it o’er――read it o’er.’ Quoth the Author, ‘Nothing more!’” “But the Author still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling, Straight I plac’d the faded Manuscript in front of Author, book and door, Then into its beauties sinking, I betook myself to thinking What this young aspiring Author with his Manuscript, and more; What this bold, presumptuous Youth, with his head bor’d through a bore, Meant in saying, ‘Read it o’er!’” “Thus I sat, engaged in reading, but no syllable revealing, To the Youth, whose fiery eyes roll’d a fiery phrenzy o’er, And o’er its pages turning, with thoughts of mystic learning, I began a critique burning on its MATHEWS style and more, When coming to a chapter, which I heartily did deplore, Cried the Author, ‘Read _it_ o’er.’” “Then methought the style grew duller, and the hero rather fuller Of thoughts which even BLUE-PARD never gloated o’er. ‘Man!’ I cried, ‘thy brain has turn’d thee――by this chapter I have learn’d thee; ‘Re-write――re-write――and re-_pen_ thee these pages blotted o’er―― ‘Take-oh! take it, and re-_pen_-_t_ thee――and correct these pages more: Cried the author, ‘Read it o’er.’” “‘Author!’ said I, ‘Imp of Evil――Author great, or Good or Devil, Whether PUTNAM sent or HARPER toss’d thee here ashore, Dull and stupid, yet undaunted――on this sheet romantic wasted―― On this floor by volumes haunted――tell me plainly, I implore, Is there――is there sense in this? tell me, tell me, I implore; Quoth the author, ‘Read it o’er!’”