And near thy Shakespear place thy honoured bust.
Oh! skill’d, next him, to draw the tender tear,
For never heart felt passion more sincere:
To nobler sentiments to fire the brave,
For never Briton more disdain’d a slave!
Peace to thy gentle shade, and endless rest,
Blest in thy genius, in thy love too blest!
And blest, that timely from our scene remov’d,
Thy soul enjoys that liberty it lov’d.
To these so mourn’d in death, so lov’d in life,