(Like yours, my friend, for after-times),
So slow the pull to Fame’s abode
That folks oft slumbered on the road;
And Homer’s self sometimes, they say,
Took to his nightcap on the way.
But now, how different is the story
With our new galloping sons of glory,
Who, scorning all such slack and slow time,
Dash to posterity in no time!
Raise but one general blast of puff