They hate this cool sequester’d mode of life,
And wish at liberty to work their way.
And on those walls that still from duns protect
Those fire-proof walls, so strongly built and high,
With uncouth rhymes and mis-spelt verses deck’d,
They ask the passing tribute of a sigh.
Their names, their years, writ by th’ unletter’d muse
The place of fame and brass plate fill up well;
And many a lawyer’s too the stranger views
With pious wishes he may go to hell.