This page has been validated.
FAME’S PENNY-TRUMPET.
[Affectionately dedicated to all “original researchers” who pant for “endowment.”]
Blow, blow your trumpets till they crack,
Ye little men of little souls!
And bid them huddle at your back–
Gold-sucking leeches, shoals on shoals!
Fill all the air with hungry wails–
“Reward us, ere we think or write!
Without your Gold mere Knowledge fails
To sate the swinish appetite!”
And, where great Plato paced serene,
Or Newton paused with wistful eye,
Rush to the chace with hoofs unclean
And Babel-clamour of the sty!
