'I lay my branch of laurel down. <br />Then thus to form Apollo's crown. <br />Let every other bring his own.'~Lord Thurlow's lines to Mr. Rogers <br /> <br /> <br />'I lay my branch of laurel down.' <br />Thou 'lay thy branch of laurel down!' <br />Why, what thou'st stole is not enow; <br />And, were it lawfully thine own, <br />Does Rogers want it most, or thou? <br />Keep to thyself thy wither'd bough, <br />Or send it back to Doctor Donne: <br />Were justice done to both, I trow, <br />He'd have but little, and thou--none. <br /> <br />'Then thus to form Apollo's crown.' <br />A crown! why, twist it how you will, <br />Thy chaplet must be foolscap still. <br />When next you visit Delphi's town, <br />Inquire amongst your fellow-lodgers, <br />They'll tell you Phoebus gave his crown, <br />Some years before your birth, to Rogers. <br /> <br />'Let every other bring his own.' <br />When coals to Newcastle are carried, <br />And owls sent to Athens, as wonders, <br />From his spouse when the R egent's unmarried, <br />Or Liverpool weeps o'er his blunders; <br />When Tories and Whigs cease to quarrel, <br />When Castlereagh's wife has an heir, <br />Then Rogers shall ask us for laurel, <br />And thou shalt have plenty to spare.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-lord-thurlow/
