His slighted and derided poetry;
hate’er his strains, still glorious was his end,
Faith to assert, and virtue to defend.
“He sung how God the Saviour deign’d to expire,
With Vida’s piety though not his fire;
Deduced his Maker’s praise from age to age,
Through the long annals of the sacred page;
And not inglorious was the poet’s fate,
Liked and rewarded by the good and great;
For gracious smiles not pious Anne denied,