The light of beauty, these very handsome lines: 'When Newton walked by Witham stream There fell no chilling shade To blight the drifting naiad's dream Or make her garland fade. The mist of sun was not less bright That crowned Urania's hair. He robbed it of its colder light, But left the rainbow there.' They are very neat and handsome, you'll agree. Solid in sense as Dryden at his best, And smooth as Waller, but with something more,-- That touch of grace, that airier elegance Which only rank can give. 'Tis very sad That one so nobly praised should--well, no matter!-- I am told, sir, that these troubles all began At Cambridge, when his manuscripts were burned. He had been working, in his curious way, All through the night; and, in the morning greyness Went down to chapel, leaving on his desk A lighted candle. You can imagine it,-- A sadly sloven altar to his Muse, Littered with papers, cups, and greasy plates Of untouched food. I am told that he would eat His Monday's breakfast, sir, on Tuesday morning, Such was his absent way! When he returned, He found that Diamond (his little dog Named Diamond, for a black patch near his tail) Had overturned the candle. All his work Was burned to ashes. It struck him to the quick, Though, when his terrier fawned about his feet, He showed no anger. He was heard to say, 'O Diamond, Diamond, little do you know...' But, from that hour, ah well, we'll say no more."