William Howitt,
Homes and Haunts of the Most Eminent British Poets…
“ Coining and forging, indeed, he was bent upon, and meant to join himself, some day or other, to a company which, in their eyes, would have appeared stranger than a troop of gipsies. He was already, child as he was, forging the name and deeds of Thomas Rowley, and fathering upon him the glorious coinage of his own brain. A great and immortal guest was theirs, and they did not know it. One of themselves was marked by the passing angel of destiny as the one of all his generation [Pg 273] doomed to the fearful sacrifice of a sad but eternal fame. ”
