To The Elysian Shades Dismiss My Soul,

Others Import Yet Nobler Arts From France, Teach Kings To Fiddle, And Make Senates Dance.

Whether The Darken'd Room To Muse Invite, Or Whiten'd Wall Provoke The Skew'r To Write; In Durance, Exile, Bedlam, Or The Mint, Like Lee Or Budgel I Will Rhyme And Print.

Oh! Blest With Temper, Whose Unclouded Ray Can Make To-morrow Cheerful As To-day.

A Brave Man Struggling In The Storms Of Fate, And Greatly Falling With A Falling State.

Statesman, Yet Friend To Truth! Of Soul Sincere, In Action Faithful, And In Honour Clear; Who Broke No Promise, Serv'd No Private End, Who Gain'd No Title, And Who Lost No Friend.