Of borrowed notes, the mock-bird’s modish tune,
The Jingling medley of purloin’d conceits
Out babying Wordsworth, and outglittering Keates (sic)
Where all the airs of patchwork-pastoral chime
To drowsy ears in Tennysonian rhyme!
Am I enthrall’d but by the sterile rule,
The formal pupil of a frigid school,
If to old laws my Spartan tastes adhere,
If the old vigorous music charms my ear,
Where sense with sound, and ease with weight combine,