In all the papers of the following day.”
Epitaph.
Here rests his pension, strangled in its birth,
His name to merit, as to praise, unknown;
Yet Fortune frown’d not on his little worth,
For Castlereagh had mark’d him for his own.
Large was his impudence, nor small his gains,
For well such talent did its master grace;
He gave the Court, a sorry gift, his brains;