UCH were the notes, thy once-lov'd Poet fung, SUCH 'Till death untimely stop'd his tuneful tongue. Oh just beheld, and loft! admir'd, and mourn'd! For him, thou oft haft bid the world attend, For SWIFT and him, defpis'd the farce of ftate, Absent or dead, ftill let a friend be dear, Who careless, now, of int'rest, fame, or fate, And fure, if ought below the feats divine A foul fupreme, in each hard inftance try'd, "Tis 'Tis her's, the brave man's latest steps to trace, When int'reft calls off all her fneaking train, When the last ling'ring friend has bid farewel. SEPT. 25, 1721. A. POPE. B 4 HESIOD: |