Fogo’s salt tears, since thou art gone, old blade,
Shall oft bedew the spot where thou art laid;
And to thy memory in thy place of rest,
He oft will take a drop of Seager’s best.
A long farewell, from care and sorrow free,
Neglect and kindness are alike to thee;
Yet a poor brother bard, to friendship true,
Weeps o’er thy grave, and sighs a last adieu.”