Must in one posture stand, and ne'er look up,
Nor stop, but rattle over every word,
No matter what, so it can not be heard;
Thus let him hurry on, nor think to rest,
Who speaks the fastest, 's sure to speak the best;
Who utters most within the shortest space,
May safely hope to win the wordy race.
The sons of Science these, who thus repaid,
Linger in ease, in Granta's sluggish shade;
Where on Cam's sedgy banks supine they lie,