He bow’d politely low, and bade them all adieu,
But lives the man by whom such deeds are done!
Yes, many such - But Swallow’s race is run;
His name is lost, - for though his sons have name,
It is not his, they all escape the shame;
Nor is there vestige now of all he had,
His means are wasted, for his heir was mad:
Still we of Swallow as a monster speak,
A hard bad man, who prey’d upon the weak.
LETTER VII.