Nor you, ye vain, impute to such the fault,
If mem’ry o’er his deeds no trophies raise,
Where, thro’ the long drawn hall and fretted vault,
The well-fee’d lawyer swells his note of praise.
* * * * *
For thee, who mindful of each agent’s deeds,
Dost in these lines their artful ways relate
If chance, or lonely contemplation leads
Some kindred spirit to enquire thy fate;
Haply some hoary headed sage may say,—