That Seat! the Work of [k] half-paid drudging Br——me,
And call’d by joking Tritons, Homer’s Tomb:
There to stale, stol’n, stum Crambo bid adieu,
And sneer the Fops, that thought thy Crambo new;
There, like the Grecian Chief, on whom thy Song
Has well reveng’d unhappy Priam’s Wrong;
Waste, in thy hidden Cave, the Festive Day,
With mock Machaon, and Patroclus G——
Sleep, [l] Sleep in Peace the Works, for Wapping born!
No more thy Cuckoo Note shall wake the Morn;