On a back seat they mark the wordy fray;
Along the circuit to the vale of life,
They keep the noiseless tenor of their way.
Yet e’en their heads from eave-drops to protect
Some frail umbrella still upheld on high
The uncouth wig, as Cloudesley Shovell’s deck’d,
Declare a councillor is passing by.
Their names, their years, spelt falsely in the news,
The place of fame and Marlborough supply;
And many a line around the Printer strews,