He’d grieve to see thee such a slave;
Should Faust or Gutenberg arise,
How painful were their deep surprise,
To find their giant hopes decline
To pigmy bantlings such as thine!
How grieved the Areopagite,[e]
Could he behold the sickening sight!
But why pursue this mournful tale?
Repinings now of what avail!
Halt, muse! If thus we rattle on,