Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/474

432 Mightiest of all Dunedin's beasts of chase!

For thee my Pegasus would mend his pace.

Arise, my Jeffrey! or my inkless pen

Shall never blunt its edge on meaner men;

Till thee or thine mine evil eye discerns,

"Alas! I cannot strike at wretched kernes."

Inhuman Saxon! wilt thou then resign

A Muse and heart by choice so wholly thine?

Dear d—d contemner of my schoolboy songs,

Hast thou no vengeance for my Manhood's wrongs?

If unprovoked thou once could bid me bleed,

Hast thou no weapon for my daring deed?

What! not a word!—and am I then so low?

Wilt thou forbear, who never spared a foe?

Hast thou no wrath, or wish to give it vent?

No wit for Nobles, Dunces by descent?

No jest on "minors," quibbles on a name,

Nor one facetious paragraph of blame?

Is it for this on Ilion I have stood,

And thought of Homer less than Holyrood?

On shore of Euxine or Æean sea,

My hate, untravelled, fondly turned to thee.