Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/71

Rh More than the verse on which the critic wrote:

Vain as their honours, heavy as their Ale,

Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale;

To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel,

When Self and Church demand a Bigot zeal.

With eager haste they court the lord of power,

(Whether 'tis or  rules the hour;)

To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head,

While distant mitres to their eyes are spread;

But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,

They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place.

Such are the men who learning's treasures guard!

Such is their practice, such is their reward!

This much, at least, we may presume to say—

The premium can't exceed the price they pay. 1806.