How jocund did they drive the dull farce down,
When wit and sense expir’d without a joke!
Yet let not genius mock their useless toil,
Their transient honours and their life not long,
Nor sense behold with a disdainful smile,
The short and simple annals of a song.
The pomp of Tragedy, expression’s power,
And all that Garrick, all that Quin e’er gave,
Have found alike th’ inevitable hour,
And the Fifth Act still led them to the grave.