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Updated: June 5, 2025
The once bright glory of his house, the pride Of all his country, dusty ruins hide: Mourn, hapless orphans; mourn, once happy wife; For when he died, died all the joys of life. Pious and just, amidst a large estate, He got at once the name of good and great. He made no flatt'ring parasite his guest, But asked the good companions to the feast.
"That master's hand, which to the life can trace The air, the line, the features, of the face, May with a free and bolder stroke express A varied posture, or a flatt'ring dress; He could have made those like, who made the rest, But that he knew his own design was best."
"What vantage or what thing Gett'st thou thus for to sting, Thou false and flatt'ring liar? Thy tongue doth hurt, it's seen No less than arrows keen Or hot consuming fire."
He began to sing disconnected staves of songs in the hope that he would forget that he was mortal.... There was a song that Bridget Fallon had taught him when he was a child, and now after many years, he was singing it again: There were three lords came out of Spain, They came to court my daughter Jane. My daughter Jane, she is too young, And cannot bear your flatt'ring tongue.
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