The briefless bag to Westminster may bear,
Yet many a Lover’s born to sigh unseen,
Or waste his rhet’ric on th’ obdurate fair.
Some Nash, that had alike with dauntless breast
The little tyrant, or the great withstood
Some mute, inglorious Erskine there may rest;
Some Scott, ne’er thirsting for a patriot’s blood.
Th’ applause of list’ning juries to command,
The cause of Hardy and of Tooke to gain
To scatter pamphlets o’er their native land,