The veneration of Smith, Brown, and Jones?
Or that his hallowed genius should be hid
From dunces by pedantic Form bestrid?
“Dear son of memory, great heir of fame,”
What matter if Ponsard asperse thy name?
That is no wonder, no astonishment:
All are not pedants on the Continent.
For whilst Teutonic poetry and art
Esteem thy numbers, and the German heart
Prizes the leaves of thine unvalued book,