For want of Claudero's lash, his eulogist goes on to say:
"Now Vice may rear her hydra head,
And strike defenceless Virtue dead;
Religion's heart may melt and bleed,
With grief and sorrow,
Since Satire from your streets is fled,
Poor Edenburrow!"
Claudero was, notwithstanding, a sorry poet, a lax moralist, and a sordid parson; but peace to the manes of the man, or his successor in the latter office, who gave me in that same long room of the White Horse in the Canongate of Edinburgh the best parents son was ever blest with!
J. O.
Footnote 2:[(return)]