Chapter 1639 of 1964 · 65 words · ~1 min read

X.

I have brought this world about my ears, and eke The other; that's to say, the Clergy--who Upon my head have bid their thunders break In pious libels by no means a few. And yet I can't help scribbling once a week, Tiring old readers, nor discovering new. In Youth I wrote because my mind was full, And _now_ because I feel it growing dull.