En garde, Messieurs, too long have I endured,
Too long with patience borne the world’s rebuff;
Now he who shoulders me shall find me rough;
The weakness of an easy soul is cured.

I ’ve shouted, leathern-lunged, when fame or gold
Were won by others, turned to aid my friend;—
Dull-pated ever,—but such follies end;
Only a fool’s content,...