Deeming such honour only due to those
Upon whose greatness Death had set his seal.
So fixed their faces hard, and shut the doors
Upon the living Poet: for, said one,
'It is too soon,' and when they heard the phrase,
Others caught up the cue, and chorussed it,
Until, the Poet echoing 'Soon? too soon?'
As if in wrath, Whewell looked up, and said:—
'O Laureate, if indeed you list to try,
Try, and unfix our purpose in this thing.'