When all the rest shall be forgotten;
Their poems, like their bodies, rotten;
When spills are made of leaves of Pope,
And Lalla Rookh shall wrap up soap;
When even David’s sacred rhyme
Shall be destroyed by ruthless time;
Thy name, O! B—k—r! still shall be
Lauded to all eternity!
Yes! Dudley’s Vicar shall survive,
And like a plant perennial thrive!