J.K.S.

“ It seems that he who dares to write
⁠Is all unfit to teach:
And literary fame is quite
⁠Beyond an usher's reach.
I dared imprisonment in vain:
The little bantling of my brain
⁠I am compelled to sacrifice.
The moral, after all, is this:—
That here, where ignorance is bliss,
⁠'Tis folly to be wise. ”

“ A factory of orators and fighters,
⁠A forcing-house of genius? Now and then,
The world at large shrinks back, abashed and beaten,
Unable to endure the glare of Eton.
I think I said I knew a man: what then? ”

“ Give me your help while I sing how Smith, on the 4th of December,
Did us the honour to read a paper entitled "Pompeii,"
In a Society whose name defies the restriction of metre.
Scarce need we tell of his fervour, research, erudition and learning,
These we must all have observed for ourselves, or at all events heard of,
Heard of from President Pashley, our eloquent President Pashley ”