16
DIALOGUE. II.
Truth guards the Poet, sanctifies the line,
And makes Immortal, Verse as mean as mine.
Yes, the last Pen for Freedom let me draw,
When Truth stands trembling on the edge of Law:
Here, Last of Britons! let your Names be read;
Are none, none living? let me praise the Dead,
And for that Cause which made your Fathers shine,
Fall, by the Votes of their degen'rate Line!
A. Alas! alas! pray end what you began,
And write next winter more Essays on Man.
And makes Immortal, Verse as mean as mine.
Yes, the last Pen for Freedom let me draw,
When Truth stands trembling on the edge of Law:
Here, Last of Britons! let your Names be read;
Are none, none living? let me praise the Dead,
And for that Cause which made your Fathers shine,
Fall, by the Votes of their degen'rate Line!
A. Alas! alas! pray end what you began,
And write next winter more Essays on Man.
FINIS.
