Wert thou—'tis pleasant to imagine it,
Howe'er absurd such notions may be thought—
When the wide heavens, wild with thunder fit,
Huge hailstones to distress the nation wrought,
A mass congeal'd of heaven's artill'ry wain,[6]
A "hailstone chorus" of a Mary's reign?
Or, wert thou part of monumental shrine
Rais'd to a genius, who, for daily bread,
While living, the base world had left to pine,
Only to find his value out when dead?