And when the unwash’d would devour Mr. Lowe.
“Right stately sat Arnold—his black gown adjusted
Genteely, his Rhine wine deliciously iced,—
With puddingish England serenely disgusted,
And looking in vain (in the mirror) for ‘Geist;’
He heark’d to the Chairman, with ‘Surely!’ and ‘Really?’
Aghast at both collar and cutty of clay,—
Then felt in his pocket, and breath’d again freely,
On touching the leaves of his own classic play.
“Close at hand lingered Lytton, whose Icarus-winglets