Where sleeps the Muse? Doth no faint echo tell, O HARDINGE! worth that claims supreme applause? Is it, in sooth, Affliction's silent pause? Hath cold Indifference damp'd the vocal shell? Pale at an hour when Sorrow mark'd too well The dire contempt of ancient Honour's laws, Did not the few (who "to the good old cause" Yet clinging, caught with sighs the funeral knell) See, parting from earth, the soul sincere, Undaunted Faith where flam'd the rebel blade, And legal Science, to thy Camden dear, And Taste refin'd, that wooed the whispering glade, And generous Friendship, that trac'd back the tear Still redolent of youth, to "Henry's holy shade?"
