A hint such as this had just rung in his ear,
When he reach’d the stage-coach, and the coachman stood near;
So light to the box that tight coachman he sprung,
So snugly the reins o’er the dickey were flung—
We are off! we are off! over bank and o’er hill,
“Your pamphlet may follow,” cried James, “if it will.”
There is quizzing ’mong wags of the Trinity clan;
King’s, Queen’s-men, and Johnians, they all laugh that can,
There is joking and smoking in Norwich citiè,
But the lost Knight of Botany ne’er do we see,