Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 4.djvu/617

ECL. I.]

Our poor friend!—but I thought it would terminate so.

Our friendship is such, I'll read nothing to shock it.

You don't happen to have the Review in your pocket?

(Very sorry, no doubt, since the cause is a brother's)

All scrambling and jostling, like so many imps,

And on fire with impatience to get the next glimpse.

Besides, our friend Scamp is to-day so absurd—

Quite enough; and, to tell you the truth, my retreat

Was from his vile nonsense, no less than the heat.

I'd inoculate sooner my wife with the slaver

Of a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours

To the torrent of trash which around him he pours,

Pumped up with such effort, disgorged with such labour,

That come—do not make me speak ill of one's neighbour.

You compelled me, by speaking the truth

Is that your deduction?

I certainly follow, not set an example.

The fellow's a fool, an impostor, a zany.