Some hands unseen strewed flowers upon his tomb:[228]
Perhaps the weakness of a heart not void
Of feeling for some kindness done, when Power
Had left the wretch an uncorrupted hour.
CX.
But I'm digressing; what on earth has Nero,
Or any such like sovereign buffoons,[DG]
To do with the transactions of my hero,
More than such madmen's fellow man—the moon's?
Sure my invention must be down at zero,