Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/57

Rh So you, degenerate, share as hard a fate,

And seat Pomposus where your Probus sate.

Of narrow brain, yet of a narrower soul,

Pomposus holds you in his harsh controul;

Pomposus, by no social virtue sway'd,

With florid jargon, and with vain parade;

With noisy nonsense, and new-fangled rules,

(Such as were ne'er before enforc'd in schools.)

Mistaking pedantry for learning's laws,

He governs, sanction'd but by self-applause;

With him the same dire fate, attending Rome,

Ill-fated Ida! soon must stamp your doom;

Like her o'erthrown, for ever lost to fame,

No trace of science left you, but the name. , July, 1805.