Oh! dark asylum of a Vandal race! At once the boast of learning, and disgrace! So lost to Phoebus, that nor Hodgson's verse Can make thee better, nor poor Hewson's worse. But where fair Isis rolls her purer wave, The partial Muse delighted loves to lave; On her green banks a greener wreath she wove, To crown the Bards that haunt her classic grove; Where RICHARDS wakes a genuine poet's fires, And modern Britons glory in their Sires.
The Aboriginal Britons, an excellent ["most excellent" in MS.] poem, by Richards.
