****
Scholars debate,
With tongue’s fiery lash.
Hiding in wait,
To judge authors, most brash.
Seeing scandal within each tome.
Pursuing notoriety.
Leaving no stone unturned.
Searching for their own destiny.
In Walton’s tiny book,
Is much to be judged,
But there’s more than a fish and hook,
With sources uncovered.
Therein lies the tale,
Of book writing,
And reading gone stale.
Awaiting scholars pining.
Forgotten is the why,
And the reason for writing.
Current attempts fall shy,
Of centuries old slighting.
In Cervantes and others,
Of lesser known fame,
Is a thread that smoulders,
And burst into flame.
Books in olden days past,
Were meant to be enjoyed,
Printed and bound to last.
Words with prose and poetry toyed.
Read out loud and with meaning,
With friends, over a cup of brew,
The words warmed many an evening,
For more than book owners, few.
To make fireside readings,
Last far beyond time,
Sayings, songs and pastorial pleadings,
Were borrowed and added to many a rhyme.
Now scholars scoff,
At such a thieving.
And, from towers they stuff,
Pages with words of their weaving.
Walton’s Piscator and Shakespeare’s King Lear;
To name as examples,
There’s many*, we hold quite dear,
Were lifted from other’s writings - ample.
(*Roger L’Estrange,
Comes to mind,
As well as Samuel Coleridge.
You will find.
There’s George Packwood, Samuel Butler,
Ned Ward, Samuel Colvil,
Thomas Brydges, and Geoffrey Chaucer,
John Trumbull, and no less than Charles Churchill.
The list goes on and on,
Including Walton’s Cotton “son”,
Depends on where
The (s)light is shown.)
Now it’s fashionable,
To cite line and verse.
And not to do so, when capable,
Is thieving or worse.
Imagine tho if you will,
How the read word ,
From lips would not spill,
If sources were mentioned. Absurd!
Writing for entertainment,
Not scholarship,
Reader and listener’s bent,
Was to enjoy the pictorial quip.
Now in our enlightened times,
Theft of prose,
Or well written rhymes,
Offends the academic nose.
The nose should be used,
In ways more noble.
Old fish pursued,
Have no place at the table.
(How do you credit,
An author,
Who stole the bit,
from another?)
****
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