His pity, praise, and promise, were a joke:
But though so young and blest with spirits high,
He died as grave as any judge could die:
The strong attack subdued his lively powers, -
His was the grave, and Doctor
Grandspear
ours.
“Then were there golden times the village round;
In his abundance all appear’d t’abound;
Liberal and rich, a plenteous board he spread,