[1] foll.
They fled;—
Friend yet unknown! What tho' a brainless rout
Usurp the sacred title of the Bard—
What tho' the chilly wide-mouth'd chorus
From Styx or Lethe's oozy Channel croak:
So was it, Peter, in the times before us
When Momus throwing on his Attic cloak
Romp'd with the Graces and each tickled Muse
The plighted coterie of Phœbus he bespoke
And laughing with reverted faces ran,
And somewhat the broad freedom to excuse
They had allow'd the audacious Greek to use
Swore they mistook him for their own good man!
If the good dulness be the home of worth
Duller than Frogs co-ax'd, or Jeffrey writ
We, too, will Aristoff (sic) and welcome it—
First draft MS. B. M.
[[7]]
kept] kept F. O. 1834.
COLOGNE[477:1]
In Köhln[477:2], a town of monks and bones[477:3],
And pavements fang'd with murderous stones
And rags, and hags, and hideous wenches;
I counted two and seventy stenches,
All well defined, and several stinks! 5
Ye Nymphs that reign o'er sewers and sinks,
The river Rhine, it is well known,
Doth wash your city of Cologne;
But tell me, Nymphs, what power divine
Shall henceforth wash the river Rhine[477:4]? 10
1828.