20To mar it through my incapacity.
I here make title to it, and proclaim
How much you honour me to wear my name;
Who can no form of gratitude devise,
But offer up myself your sacrifice.
Hail, then, my worthy lot! and may each morn
Successive springs of joy to you be born:
May your content ne'er wane until my heart
Grown bankrupt, wants good wishes to impart.
Henceforth I need not make the dust my shrine,