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E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature | Fair Science frowned not on his humble cries,


E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. And Melancholy marked him for her own.

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OFT has it been my lot to mark
A proud, conceited, talking spark,
With eyes that hardly served at most
To guard their master 'gainst a post;
Yet round the world the blade has been,
To see whatever could be seen.
Returning from his finished tour,
Grown ten times perter than before;
Whatever word you chance to drop,
The travelled fool your mouth will stop:
"Sir, if my judgment you 'll allow-
I've seen- and sure I ought to know."
So begs you'd pay a due submission,
And acquiesce in his decision.

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