Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/467

Rh Babe of a city birth! from sixpence take

The third, how much will the remainder make?—

"A groat."—"Ah, bravo! Dick hath done the sum!

He'll swell my fifty thousand to a Plum."

They whose young souls receive this rust betimes,

'Tis clear, are fit for anything but rhymes;

And Locke will tell you, that the father's right

Who hides all verses from his children's sight;

For Poets (says this Sage, and many more,)

Make sad mechanics with their lyric lore:

And Delphi now, however rich of old,

Discovers little silver, and less gold,