Richard Monckton Milnes, Lord Houghton (1809–1885)

THEE I would think one of the many wise,

Who in Eliza’s time sat eminent,

To our now world, his Purgatory, sent

To teach us what true English poets prize.

Pasquilant froth and foreign galliardize

Are none of thine; but, when of gay intent,

Thou usest staid old English merriment,

Mannerly mirth, which no one dare despise.

The scoffs and girds of our poor critic rout

Must move thy pity, as amidst their mime,

Monk of Truth’s Order, from thy memories

Thou dost updraw sublime simplicities,

Grand thoughts that never can be wearied out,

Showing the unreality of Time.