His well-bred demeanour still bore him along
Unhurt through a roaring and riotous throng,
Where staunch to his duty, yet slow to offend,
He softened the means, but to strengthen the end.
Would you know, more at large, by what talents he shone?
His country will tell you—for all was her own.
Here slumbers poor Sh—rry, whose fate I must sigh at!
Alas, that such frolic should now be so quiet.
What spirits were his, how elastic and subtle!
Now cracking a jest, and now cracking a bottle!