Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/398

356 Yes! doff that covering, where Morocco shines,

And hang a calf-skin on those recreant lines.

With you, ye Druids! rich in native lead,

Who daily scribble for your daily bread:

With you I war not: 's heavy hand

Has crushed, without remorse, your numerous band.

On "All the Talents" vent your venal spleen;

Want is your plea, let Pity be your screen.

Let Monodies on Fox regale your crew,

And Melville's Mantle prove a Blanket too!