Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/412

370 Let still sigh; let  steal from ,

And swear that sang such notes of yore;

Let hobble on,  rave,

And godly chant a stupid stave;

Let sonneteering his strains refine,

And whine and whimper to the fourteenth line;

Let, , , and the rest