Ye towers of Julius, London's lasting shame, With many a foul and midnight murder fed.
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
What female heart can gold despise? What cat 's averse to fish?
When love could teach a monarch to be wise, And gospel-light first dawn'd from Bullen's eyes.
Where ignorance is bliss, 'Tis folly to be wise.
Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, A youth to fortune and to fame unknown: Fair Science frown'd not on his humble birth, And Melancholy mark'd him for her own.