Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/410

368 In show the simple lyre could once surpass,

But now, worn down, appear in native brass;

While all his train of hovering sylphs around

Evaporate in similes and sound:

Him let them shun, with him let tinsel die:

False glare attracts, but more offends the eye.

Yet let them not to vulgar stoop,

The meanest object of the lowly group,

Whose verse, of all but childish prattle void,

Seems blessed harmony to and :