Save when through yon high bars it pour’d a sad
And broken splendour. Dost thou ask his crime?
He had rebelled against his King, and sat
In judgment on him: &c.
John Forster has written his memoir, and, in one of his best moments, Wallis painted him. Here are his own last words, sad yet firm, the old humour still apparent, if only in the choice of verse, it being the anagram of his name:—
Here, or elsewhere (all’s one to you—to me!)
Earth, air, or water, gripes my ghostless dust,
None knowing when brave fire shall set it free.
Reader, if you an oft-tried rule will trust,
You’ll gladly do and suffer what you must.