Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/353

Rh Now forging scrolls, now foremost in the fight,

Not quite a Felon, yet but half a Knight,

The gibbet or the field prepared to grace;

A mighty mixture of the great and base.

And think'st thou, ! by vain conceit perchance,

On public taste to foist thy stale romance,

Though with his  may combine

To yield thy muse just half-a-crown per line?

No! when the sons of song descend to trade,

Their bays are sear, their former laurels fade,

Let such forego the poet's sacred name,

Who rack their brains for lucre, not for fame:

Still for stern Mammon may they toil in vain!