Go on—and close the eyes of distant ages!
Nourish the names of the undoubted dead!
So epicures shall pick thy lobster-pages,
Heavy and lively, though but seldom red.
XIV.
Go on! and thrive! Demurest of odd fellows!
Bottling up dulness in an ancient binn!
Still live! still prose!—continue still to tell us
Old truths! no strangers, though we take them in!