Grainger comes up as candidate for worst English poet of all time in the anthologies, and the title line is cited as an opening so unintentionally droll as to have brought down the house when he first declaimed it in public.
Good joke. It was not the opening of an epic poem, but rather part of longer poem, and misquoted besides:
“Now, Muse, let us sing of rats.”
Okay, so who is the fellow and what’s up with the rats? I mean to say – rats? Continue reading