Nor is this Polydore Virgil's room,
but Cantabrigian Virgil's tomb.
The pleasant'st child e're England bred
The bravest youth e're Cambridge fed
The dearest man e're wore a head.
Whilst that thy ballads up & down do flutter
and the town gallants of thy town muse mutter
Possesse this church, though thou couldst not ye Savoy
and in her soft lap let Melpomene have thee.
Let no Court storm nor tough-lung'd zealot blow