Here lies the good dean, reunited to earth,
Who mix'd reason with pleasure, and wisdom with mirth;
If he had any faults, he has left us in doubt;
At least in six weeks I could not find them out;
Yet some have declar'd, and it can't be denied 'em,
That Slyboots was cursedly cunning to hide 'em.
Johnson shall teach me how to place
In fairest light each borrow'd grace;
From him I'll learn to write,—
Copy his clear, familiar style,
And, by the roughness of his file,
Grow, like himself, polite.