Publish or perish

Who’s free?—the scholar?—no; not he

The slave of printed paper,

Who where the sun is free to see,

Lights his own twinkling taper,

And from much nonsense picks some sense

And makes a mighty clamour,

And strangles living eloquence

In mummy bands of grammar.

from John Stuart Blackie (1809-1895), There is None Free But Jove, in his Messis Vitae: Gleanings of Song from a Happy Life (London: Macmillan and Co., 1886), pp. 64-66. thanks.