Lo Stonor, Fenton, Caldwell, Ward, and Broome! Lo thousands more, but I want rhyme and room! XXI. How lov'd! how honour'd thou! yet be not vain! 165 And what rewards his grateful country pay? None, none were paid-why then all this for me? These honours, Homer, had been just to thee. VERSES TO DR. BOLTON, In the Name of MRS. BUTTER's Spirit, lately STRIPT to the naked soul, escap'd from clay, Or a friend's sorrow pierce the gloom of death! 5 9 NOTES. Ver. 8. firmless] A new-coined, and not a very happy epithet. |