Read Don Giovanni, ’tis their own,
A child of their creating.
On jests profane they love to feed,
And there they are—and many,
But we, who link not with the crew,
Regard not Don Giovanni.
“There’s Goodwin’s daughter, Shelley’s wife
A’writing fearful stories;
There’s Hazlitt, who with Hunt and Keats,
Brays forth in Cockney chorus.