Classic Poem

Ye lovers of science lament,
No longer must COUGHRON impart;
What deep in rich nature lies pent,
E'en truths of misterious art.

A worthy acquaintance to all,
His passions were gen'rous and free;
Renowned, and great in his fall,
Nor saw more than years twenty-three.

On banks of meandering TWEED,
The youth first would nature define;
But [urg'd by MINERVA] agreed
To rifle her stores on the TYNE.

Each artist his aid would implore;
Affirming him prince of the train;
Who could with such majesty soar?
As witness his CURVE on the plane,

His PHILLIS was heard in the groves,
Crying " he that could please is no more " ;
Thro' fields of Elysium he roves,
The King of all Kings to adore.

His judgment, his genius how great!
His reasoning faculty strong;
A lawyer, an artist compleat,
And worthy, thrice worthy, my song.

His praise, future ages will ring,
Yea myriads of COUGHRON will tell;
In strains undulating they'll sing,
How wreathed with laurels he fell.