Down at one shot go "Drum Taps" and "Childe Harold."
Just fancy being levelled down to—Byron!
Alas! what woes the poet's path environ.
What next, and next? Byron called Southey "gander."
But then the lordly rhymester railed at Landor,
One of the Swinburne fetishes, enough
To prove that all he wrote was soulless stuff—
But stop! Who knows that Swinburne, on the ravage,
May not, next time, pitch into Walter Savage?
The idols he once worshipped now he'd burn,