O'er the grave where our idol was buried.
They buried him darkly at dead of night,
With their threats our remonstrance turning,
By the struggling Stephen's misty light,
In the brazen socket burning.
No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
In a sheet of parchment they bound him,
And he lay with Old Sarum for ever at rest,
With schedule A around him.
Few and short were the speeches said,