Song CXVIII. the Funeral

See the Pall-supporting Bearers, All in Undertaker's shew; See the train of Sable-wearers, Acting ev'ry Mode of woe. Silent crouds the spot surrounding, Call'd the GRAND RECEIVER's Dome; Dismal tolling Tenor sounding, Fellow Mortals follow Home.

List! oh list! ye State Declaimers, On whose words the many dwell; Place-bestowing, Patriot-tamers, Hark! oh hark! 'tis Grandeur's Knell. Heralds loud proclaim the Honours Which this once puissant past; Tell his Titles, count his Manors, Lord of only this at last.

View the Tomb with Sculpture splendid, View the Sod with Briars bound; There the Farce of Finery's ended, All are equal under ground. Fashions there, there Envy's banish'd, Beauties there can't plead their forms; There Precedencies are vanish'd, Offals ALL to odious worms.

Wise folks, weak ones, poor, and wealthy, Tenant unremitting Graves; Haughty, humble, sick, and healthy, Britons sons, and Asian slaves. Gloom no more the brow with sorrow, Meet the moment, come what may; If we're all to dye To-morrow, Let us live, my Lads, To-day.

We'll not lavish Life's expences, Nor be Niggards when we pay; Let us please, not pall our Senses, This is Reason's holiday. Here, to Dunces bid defiance, Affectations disapprove; Here's my Toast,—The grand Alliance, FRIENDSHIP, FREEDOM, WIT, and LOVE.