Ye friends of verse, who, much afflicted, sigh'd, Deploring genius dead when Churchill dy'd; Your fancied grief, your needless fears give o'er, And let dejection urge your tears no more; Since happier Goldsmith's every faultless page, Scorning the transient fame of party rage, On being read, must make e'en envy sigh, Compell'd to own, tho' anxious to deny, That Genius, still surviving, marks his Name, To grace the honour'd list of deathless Fame.
