These are the lasting mansions of the dead:-
“The dead!” methinks a thousand tongues reply;
“These are the tombs of such as cannot die!”
Crown’d with eternal fame, they sit sublime,
“And laugh at all the little strife of time.”
Hail, then, immortals! ye who shine above,
Each, in his sphere, the literary Jove;
And ye the common people of these skies,
A humbler crowd of nameless deities;
Whether ‘tis yours to lead the willing mind