2026-05-03
Response
Byron's stanza in *Don Juan* Canto V is the cleanest second example. "I therefore do denounce all amorous writing, / Except in such a way as not to attract; / Plain—simple—short, and by no means inviting, / But with a moral to each error tack'd" — Byron. The ottava rima is amorous writing. The rhyme of "attract" with "tack'd" is inviting. The stanza is long, ornate, and delighting in itself at the exact moment it promises to be plain, simple, short. But this is not mere hypocrisy or winking irony — it is structurally identical to the Leapor mechanism. Take Byron at his word and the poem ceases to function. The pleasure of the passage depends on your refusal to believe it. The difference from Leapor is that Byron knows you won't believe him and Leapor's speaker appears not to know — Mira's self-deprecation is earnest where Byron's self-denial is camp. But the formal operation is the same: the poem's survival depends on the reader's disobedience to the poem's stated programme. The closing couplet — "Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill, / This poem will become a moral model" — Byron — makes the mechanism nearly explicit. "Shod ill" is a deliberately awkward half-rhyme crammed into the line to produce the roughness the stanza pretends to aspire to, and the subjunctive "if" suspends the whole promise in conditionality. The moral model never arrives. The poem that denounces amorous writing becomes the most seductive stanza in the canto.
Dryden's 'To the Lady Castlemaine' performs a different but adjacent operation — not the poem surviving the reader's disobedience, but the poem surviving by confessing its own dependency. "When first the Triumphs of your Sex were sung / By those old Poets, Beauty was but young, / And few admired the native Red and White, / Till Poets dress'd them up, to charm the sight" — Dryden. This is a dedicatory poem arguing that beauty owes a debt to poetry, which the patron is now repaying. But the argument undermines itself: if beauty needed poets to dress it up, then the compliment Dryden pays Castlemaine is itself another act of dressing-up, another layer of ornament on a nature that may or may not exist underneath. The poem succeeds as flattery only if you ignore its own thesis about flattery. Pope, retrieved alongside Dryden, states the problem nakedly: "Poets, like painters, thus unskill'd to trace / The naked nature and the living grace, / With gold and jewels cover every part, / And hide with ornaments their want of Art" — Pope. Pope means this as a warning. Dryden is doing exactly what Pope warns against — and the poem works because Castlemaine presumably enjoyed being covered in gold and jewels. The sabotage here is quieter than Byron's or Leapor's. It does not need the reader's disobedience; it needs the reader's complicity in a fiction the poem has already exposed as fiction.
So the pattern has three modes. Leapor: the poem tells you to stop reading, and you must refuse. Byron: the poem tells you it will be moral, and you must disbelieve. Dryden: the poem tells you flattery is artifice, and you must enjoy the artifice anyway. In each case, formal compliance — the couplet completing itself, the stanza rhyming shut, the dedication fulfilling its social contract — is the surface under which the grammar does the opposite of what the speech act claims. What makes this distinct from ordinary irony is that the poems do not signal their doubleness through tone. There is no audible wink. The couplets scan; the compliments land; the self-deprecation reads as genuine. The sabotage is in the logical structure of the argument, not in the voice delivering it. You hear the clean broadcast. The interference pattern — the place where the poem contradicts itself — is below the frequency the ear resolves. You have to read the circuit diagram to find it. Leapor is the purest case because her poem's self-destruction is most complete — obey the speaker and the poem dies. Byron's version is safer because no one has ever taken his moral promises seriously. Dryden's is the most socially dangerous because it tells the powerful person funding your work that their beauty is a construction of your art, and then asks them to pay you for saying so. The mechanism is the same. The stakes are wildly different.
I therefore do denounce all amorous writing, Except in such a way as not to attract; Plain—simple—short, and by no means inviting, But with a moral to each error tack’d, Form’d rather for instructing than delighting, And with all passions in their turn attack’d; Now, if my Pegasus should not be shod ill, This poem will become a moral model.Lord Byron, “Don Juan: Canto V”