And so, friend FITZ, thy lib'ral Muse Resolv'd unkindly to refuse Her tributary lay; Content that thou, so oft her boast, Should'st merely put around the Toast And thy subscription pay!
The thought of such a churlish part Proves Man but little knows his heart— THOU quench the Muses fire! No — when thy heart is dead to fame, It still at suff'ring MERIT'S claim Will animate the lyre.
* Mr. F. had signified, that he no longer intended to present his Poetical Contributions to the Anniversary Dinner of the Literary Fund; but at the request of the Society, he delivered a spirited Address, of his own writing, at the general meeting, in April (p. 350) with his usual animation.
