Of the published Volume Moxon gave the worst tidings;no man had hailed it with welcome;unsold it lay,under the leaden seal of general neglect;the public when asked what it thought,had answered hitherto by a lazy stare.It shall answer otherwise,thought Sterling;by no means taking that as the final response.It was in this same September that he announced to me and other friends,under seal of secrecy as usual,the completion,or complete first-draught,of "a new Poem reaching to two thousand verses."By working "three hours every morning"he had brought it so far.This Piece,entitled _The Election_,of which in due time we obtained perusal,and had to give some judgment,proved to be in a new vein,--what might be called the mock-heroic,or sentimental Hudibrastic,reminding one a little,too,of Wieland's _Oberon_;--it had touches of true drollery combined not ill with grave clear insight;showed spirit everywhere,and a plainly improved power of execution.Our stingy verdict was to the effect,"Better,but still not good enough:--why follow that sad 'metrical'course,climbing the loose sandhills,when you have a firm path along the plain?"To Sterling himself it remained dubious whether so slight a strain,new though it were,would suffice to awaken the sleeping public;and the Piece was thrown away and taken up again,at intervals;and the question,Publish or not publish?lay many months undecided.
Meanwhile his own feeling was now set more and more towards Poetry;and in spite of symptoms and dissuasions,and perverse prognostics of outward wind and weather,he was rallying all his force for a downright struggle with it;resolute to see which _was_the stronger.