One, full as low, as t'other lie,
30Together blended in the general lot!
Distinguish'd only from the common crowd
By an hing'd coffin or an holland shroud,
Though Fame and Honour speak them ne'er so loud.
Alas, Orinda! even thou,
Whose happy verse made others live,
And certain immortality could give;
Blasted are all thy blooming glories now,
The laurel withers o'er thy brow: