be his apology,
A short treatise he'd written on _British Geology_;
And this journal, he hoped, of his studies last week,
In philosophy, chemistry, logic, and Greek,
Might appear on perusal: but not to go far
In proclaiming his merits--his name was Tom Carr:
And for proofs of his talents, deserts, and what not,
He appeal'd to Miss Baillie, Lord Byron, and Scott."
Here his speech was cut short by a hubbub below,
And in walk'd Messrs. Maturin, Cookesly, and Co.,
And begg'd leave to present to his majesty's finger--
If he'd please to accept--No. 5 of the Linger.{5}
Mr. Maturin "hoped he the columns would view
With unprejudiced judgment, and give them their due,
Nor believe all the lies, which perhaps he had seen,
In that vile publication, that base magazine,{6}
Which had dared to impeach his most chaste lucubrations,
Of obscenity, nonsense, and such accusations.
Nay, that impudent work had asserted downright,
That chalk differ'd from cheese, and that black wasn't white;
But he hoped he might meet with his majesty's favor;"
And thus, hemming and hawing, he closed his palaver.
Now the god condescended to look at the papers,
But the first word he found in them gave him the vapours:
For the eyes of Apollo, ye gods! 'twas a word
Quite unfit to be written, and more to be heard;
'Twas a word which a bargeman would tremble to utter,
And it put his poor majesty all in a flutter;
But collecting his courage, his laurels he shook,
And around on the company cast such a look,
That e'en Turin and Dumpling slank off to the door,
And the Lion was far too much frighten'd to roar;
5 An Eton periodical of the time.
6 The College Magazine.
~93~~
While poor Carr was attack'd with such qualms at the breast,
That he took up his journal, and fled with the rest.
When the tumult subsided, and peace 'gan to follow,
Goddard enter'd the room, with three cards for Apollo,
And some papers which, hardly five minutes before,
Three respectable gownsmen had left at the door.
With a smile of good humour the god look'd at each,
For he found that they
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