When Dryden's fool, 'unknowing what he sought,' <br />His hours in whistling spent, 'for want of thought,' <br />This guiltless oaf his vacancy of sense <br />Supplied, and amply too, by innocence <br />Did modern swains, possess'd of Cymon's powers, <br />In Cymon's manner waste their leisure hours, <br />Th' offended guests would not, with blushing, see <br />These fair green walks disgraced by infamy. <br />Severe the fate of modern fools, alas! <br /> <br />When vice and folly mark them as they pass. <br />Like noxious reptiles o'er the whiten'd wall, <br />The filth they leave still points out where they crawl.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/verses-found-in-a-summerhouse-at-hales-owen/
