He, with a feeble spark of Glory warm’d,
Wish’d his sole Boy to be with Study charm’d;
Wish’d him that Honour he had fail’d to gain,
And hail’d the Labour that was not in vain.
He liv’d, the Honour of his spotless Line,
Fram’d in the Senate and the Bar to shine;
But, unambitious at an early Age,
He buried all the Patriot in the Sage; 90
And with his Lady, by her worth endear’d,
Read what was spoken when he, once, was heard.