Indulgent sir, pray spare an inch or two,

And print the carping critics’ joint adieu.

So long it is since we began the fray

That readers swear we’ve filched your Log away!

Forgive, we beg, the sinners that presume

To fill with venomed verse such precious room.

Inflamed by war, and in a martial rage,

We held a while the centre of the stage

Till, blinded by each other’s furious fire,

We battled on, forgetting to retire.

But fiercest feuds draw sometimes to their ends,

And ancient foemen live to meet as friends:

So do we now, conjoin’d in lasting peace,

Lay down our pens, and mutual slander cease.

What sound is this? ‘Tis but a joyous yell

From thankful thousands, as we say farewell.