• Is there a whim-inspirèd fool,
    Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
    Owre blate 1 to seek, owre proud to snool; 2
            Let him draw near,
    And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
            And drap a tear.

    Is there a bard of rustic song,
    Who, noteless, steals the crowd among,
    That weekly this area throng;
            O,...