Or has Apollo's laurel bush yet borne ten hundred leaves?
Or if so many leaves were there, how long would they sustain
The ravage and the glutton bite of such a locust train?
"'No! get ye back into your dens, take counsel for the night,
And choose me out two champions to meet in deadly fight;
To-morrow's dawn shall see the lists marked out in Spitalfields,
And he who wins shall have the bays, and he shall die who yields!'
"Down went the window with a crash,—in silence and in fear
Each ragged bard looked anxiously upon his neighbor near;
Then up and spake young Tennyson—'Who's here that fears for death?