So that these grim-faced brutes might cross it,
Are there no athletes here undrilled,
Veiled by their adipose deposit?
"In slothful ease Britannia shirks;
But haply, near these sundering ditches,
Some mute inglorious miler lurks
Under a morning coat and breeches.
"Oh, if the gulf were bridged! What late,
What all undreamed-of hurdle-winners
Might blossom from a natural hate