Classic Poem

A Novel (published by Macmillan)
Is now before you; I'm the Villain.
For, though a Villain I abhor,
That's what my Author means me for.

Now, if your intellect's alert, you
Will know that I'm in love with Virtue;
Yet, all to help the story, I'm
Foredoomed to Wickedness and Crime.

A sad predestination this is —
To work for meed of groans and hisses,
To shuffle, cozen, slay and rob
And fail! — however, that's my job.

A Hero may be vain or idle
Or dissolute or homicidal;
But he is privileged, and so
Emerges whitewashed, pure as snow.

Then what determines who in fiction
Shall have your praise or malediction —
Yes, who shall be the Villain, who
The Hero? — Just a Point of View!

Does anybody doubt that Nero
In his own story was the hero?
While Washington, I've somewhere heard,
Was not revered by George the Third.

So, Gentle Reader, judge me rightly
And see a Hero, brave and knightly,
Resolved to foil, by hook or crook,
The Caitiff Author of this book!

My plots shall all be most successful;
I'll win the Heroine distressful
(Her love is all a body needs
To sanctify his darkest deeds).

My adversaries I'll belabor;
And when upon my flashing saber
That Other Fellow I impale,
I'll be the Hero of this tale!