Nor brought a blush upon his cheek:
Thus all his talents ran to waste,
“Watt Tyler” was his first and last![p]
So, Tennyson, ’twill be with you,
Should you the beaten track pursue:
Your “gen’rous” patrons leave you free
To chant all themes, save Liberty,
To waste your time, from year to year,
On royal “Idylls,” wine and beer;
Or catch from Burns the brooklet’s play,