Whereat full shrilly sang th' excluded bard:
'Soon, soon, so soon! Whewell looks stern and chill,
Soon, soon, so soon! but I can enter still.'
'Too soon, too soon! You cannot enter now.'
'I am not dead: of that I do repent.
But to my living prayer, oh now relent.'
'Too soon, too soon! You cannot enter now.'
'Honour in life is sweet: my fame is wide,
Let me to stand at Dryden's, Byron's side.'
'Too soon, too soon! You cannot enter now!'