And Steele, and Fielding, Butler, Swift, and Pope—
Who filled the world with laughter, joy, and hope;
And thousands, that throw sunshine on our lot,
And, though they die, can never be forgot.
These comets of their day
Have passed away,
Their dust is now to kindred dust consigned;
Down at death's knees e'en they were forced to bow,
Yet each has left an honour'd name behind—
And so, old bridge, hast thou;