Quick to the onslaught, out sword, cut and thrust!"

LXXXVI

And thereupon a fierce epistle flings

Its challenge in the critic's face. Alack!

Our bard mistakes his man! The gauntlet rings

On brazen visor proof against attack.

Prompt from his editorial throne up springs

The insulted magnate, and his mace falls, thwack,

On Paul's devoted brainpan,—quite away

From common courtesies of fencing-play!