And then (but not a breath

 Of this!) you see,

 All his effects, my faith!

 Are marked D.V.

 His cape-coat has a rip,

 But for all that,

 (Folk smile, suggest a dip

 In the dyer’s vat,—

 Those purple aldermen

 Who roll about

 In coaches, drive till ten,

 And die of gout),

 I think he finely shows

 How learning’s crumbs

 At least can rival those

 Of— ’st, here he comes!

66 

66

 

Beyond the Gamut

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