text:  What bitter pangs must humble Genius feel In their last hours to view a Swift and Steele! How must ill-boding horrors fill her breast When she beholds men mark'd above the rest For qualities most dear plung'd from that height And sunk deep sunk in second childhood's night! Are men indeed such things? and are the best More subject to this evil than the rest; To drivel out whole years of idiot breath And sit the monuments of living Death! O! galling circumstance to human pride! Abasing thought! but not to be deny'd