The Whites[14] and the Hunts[14] shall desist from sedition,
No leader remaining to spur their ambition;
Pale Envy her taper shall quench to a spark,
And C—bb—tt meet W—thm—n, and wail in the dark!
Here sleeps my Lord Gr—nv—lle, describe him who can,
A compression of all that was solid in man.
For bottom, confess’d without rival to shine:
For head, if not first, in the very first line,
Yet, with pow’rs thus confess’d, and a lofty condition,
He was duped by his own over-weening ambition;