Whose dear remains in honoured marble sleep;
For whom at last, even hostile nations groan,
And friends and foes alike his talents own;
Fox! shall in Britain's future annals shine,
Nor e'en to Pitt, the patriot's palm resign;
Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,
For PITT, and PITT alone, would dare to ask.
TO A LADY, WHO PRESENTED THE AUTHOR A LOCK OF HAIR, BRAIDED WITH HIS OWN, AND APPOINTED A NIGHT IN DECEMBER, TO MEET HIM IN THE GARDEN.
These locks which fondly thus entwine,