Part 2 — AN IRISH EPIGRAM ON THE SAME

While with the fustian of thy book, The witty ancient you enrobe, You make the graceful Horace look As pitiful as Tom M'Lobe.[1] Ye Muses, guard your sacred mount, And Helicon, for if this log Should stumble once into the fount, He'll make it muddy as a bog. [Footnote 1: A notorious Irish poetaster, whose name had become proverbial.—Scott.]