Awhile the venerable hero stood,
And stemm'd with quiv'ring limbs the boist'rous flood;
At length, o'er-match'd by injuries and time,
Stole from the world and sought his native clime.
for him with moans her region fills:
She wept his downfal from a thousand hills:
Tender embrac'd her prelate tho' undone,
Stretch'd out her mother-rocks to hide her son:
Search'd, while alive, each vale for his repast,
And, when he died, receiv'd him in her breast.
Envied Ambition! what are all thy schemes,
But waking misery, or pleasing dreams,
Sliding and tottering on the heights of state!
The subject of this verse declares thy fate.
Great as he was, you see how small the gain,
A burial so obscure, a Muse so mean.