E’en labouring dulness against nature tries,
And rakes the ashes of its brain for fire.
For thee who mindful of the briefless crew
Dost in these lines their hopeless cause relate,
If one perchance with nothing else to do
Should feel disposed to ask thy after fate.
Haply, some stuff-clad rusty sage may say,
“Oft have we seen his tall and lanky form
Brushing with hasty steps to court away
To take his place where all the idle swarm.