Learning and Law, your day is done,
And your work too; you may be gone
Trever, that lov'd you, hence is fled:
And Right, which long lay sick, is dead.
Trever! whose rare and envied part
Was both a wise and winning heart,
Whose sweet civilities could move
Tartars and Goths to noblest love.
Bold vice and blindness now dare act,
And—like the grey groat—pass, though crack'd;
While those sage lips lie dumb and cold,
Whose words are well-weigh'd and tried gold.
O, how much to discreet desires
Differs pure light from foolish fires!
But nasty dregs outlast the wine,
And after sunset glow-worms shine.