O CROWN'D with honor, blest with length of days,
Thou whom the wise revere, the worthy praise;
Just guardian of those laws thy voice explain'd,
And meriting all titles thou hast gain'd —
Tho' still the fairest from heaven's bounty flow;
For good and great no monarch can bestow:
Yet thus, of health, of fame, of friends possest,
No fortune, Hardwicke, is sincerely blest.
All humankind are sons of sorrow born:
The great must suffer, and the good must mourn.