...WITH A SOUR AIR...
At Dryden's tomb, inscrib'd with Sh—d's name,
That mite, slow offer'd to establish'd fame!
Fill'd with raw wonder, Tyro stopt to gaze;
And bless'd his bounteous Grace, in kind amaze:
The guardian genius, from the sacred dust,
Re-kindling upwards, wak'd the quickening bust,
Glowing from every awful feature—broke
Disdainful life—and thus the marble spoke:
" Teach thy blind love of honesty to see,—
" 'Tis not my monument,—tho' built on me.
" Great peers, 'tis known, can in oblivion lie;
" But no great poet has the power to die.
" At cheap expence, behold engrafted fame!
" The tack'd associate of a buoyant name.
" The pompous craft one lucky lord shall save;
" And Sh—d borrow life from Dryden's grave."
'Twas said—and, ere the short sensation died,
The stiffening marble writh'd its form aside:
Back from the titled waste of mouldering state
He turn'd—neglectful of the court, too late!
And, sadly conscious of mispointed praise,
Frowns thro' the stone, and shrinks beneath his bays.
The "Sh_d" of the poem is John Sheffield, Duke of Buckingham. The original bust was replaced by the present one (by Peter Scheemakers) in 1731.
Poetry Atlas has other poems about Westminster.