Viz: he's so seedy and blue, he's so deucedly triste,
He's so d----d out of sorts, he's so d----d out of tune,
That for mere consolation he cannot resist
The temptation of holding with Tommy commune.
Then that _he_ should be bothered alone, isn't fair,
So he'll just bother _you_ a bit, pour se distraire,
This will partly account for the milk--then the fact is
That some heavy swell says that it's deuced good practice,
And then it's a natural consequence, too,
Of the classical culture he's just been put through.
I'll explain: T'other day the maternal did say,
'You are sadly deficient in reading, Bill; nay
Do not wrinkle your forehead and turn up your nose
(That elegant feature of William Barlow's!)
You've read Thackeray, Dickens, I know; but it's fit
You should study the _classical_ authors a bit.
Heaven knows when your sight will be valid again,
You may throw down the pencil and take up the pen,
And you cannot have too many strings to your bow.'
--'A-a-amen!' says young William to Mrs. Barlow.

So we're treated (our feelings we needn't define)
To a beastly slow book called the 'Fall and Decline'
By a fellow called Gibbon, be d----d to him; then
Comes the 'Esprit des lois et des moeurs,' from the pen
Of a chap hight _Voltaire_--un pédant--qui je crois
Ne se fichait pas mal et des moeurs et des lois.
After which just to vary the pleasures, _Rousseau_
By Emile--no: Emile by _Rousseau_? Gad! I know
That which ever it be it's infernally slow,