The pangs I felt at parting thee my friend,
May be conceiv’d but cannot well be penn’d;
On this deceitful world’s precarious stage,
You stood my friend from youth to hoary age;
_Upright_, and _firm_, _steady_ to thy trust,
The actions _keen_, but still correctly just;
The critic’s malice, peace has oft destroy’d,
But you _well tempered_, could not be annoy’d;
Within thy mansion, peace and plenty dwelt,
Your guests when pleas’d, what pleasure then you felt;
A friend so rare to meet with now a days,
All wish to know to whom is due such praise;
’Tis due to one whose loss I’ll long deplore,
My friend’s a TOOTH, alas just gone before.
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