On his desk were strewn pages of manuscript verse which caught the eyes of the visitors at once.
"By my halidome! if that be not the poem itself!" "The rough copy alone, the rough copy," said Addison, who was walking up and down the narrow room, his eyes aglow, his face a little flushed.

"The fair one is in the hands of the printers.

My Lord Godolphin came himself to hear it read but a few short days ago, and took it off with him then and there." "Delighted with it, and vowing that you should be the first poet of the times, if report be true!" cried Lord Claud.
"He did express his satisfaction," answered the poet quietly.

"And I doubt not I shall receive some mark of favour at no distant date.
But not all the favour of Queen or courtier can give me the title to poet.

That lies in a sphere which not the most powerful potentate can aspire to touch.