And longer still before his overthrow
On that dread field, where hard he tried to burk us,
Some who were there still linger (in the workus).
I need not ask thee if that hand of thine
Has scattered to the poor thy gold in plenty,
For charity was ever in thy line.
Before thy modest years had numbered twenty,
The same kind spirit which has marked thee ever.
Had shown itself in many a bright endeavour.