Where Roman Virgil pipes in Celtic verse,
And Grecian Homer sings to gods in Erse;—
’Twas there that Sandy form’d his worldly creed,
Brush’d gowns, swept book-shelves, learn’d to shave and read:
From craft to craft his willing genius rose;
When cash was scarce he wisely wrought for clothes,
And threadbare trophies, once the kirkmen’s pride,
Mickle by mickle swell’d his wallet’s side.
Well turn’d, well scoured, the rags denied their age,
While Sandy’s granite visage aped the sage.