Of such as, wandering in with noisy feet,
Disturb the home-spun labours of his brain.
Beneath those rugged wigs, uncomely shade,
Where books and bags lay strewed in many a heap,
Each in a narrow space on elbow laid,
The lazy Juniors of the Circuit sleep.
A breeze between the Council and my Lord,
The tittering laugh at something idly said;
The voice of many attuning sweet accord,
Can scarcely raise a single heavy head.