"A Wit's a feather, and a chief's a rod, An honest man's the noblest work of God." Thus singing the melodious bard retir'd, His bosom with celestial vision fir'd, To yonder blest realms of tranquil love, There laurel'd lies in amaranthine grove; While to his lyre accords the voice of joy, And love and rapture ev'ry hour employ. Edinburgh, September 1783.
