Verses Left by Mr. Pope, on His Lying in the Same Bed which Wilmot, the Celebrated Earl of Rochester, Slept in, at Adderbury, then Belonging to the Duke of Argyle, July 9th, 1739
With no poetic ardour fir'd
I press the bed where Wilmot lay;
That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,
Begets no numbers grave, or gay.
But 'neath thy roof, Argyle, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof—the sky.
Such flames as high in patriots burn
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife:
And such as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.
I press the bed where Wilmot lay;
That here he lov'd, or here expir'd,
Begets no numbers grave, or gay.
But 'neath thy roof, Argyle, are bred
Such thoughts as prompt the brave to lie
Stretch'd out in honour's nobler bed,
Beneath a nobler roof—the sky.
Such flames as high in patriots burn
Yet stoop to bless a child or wife:
And such as wicked kings may mourn,
When freedom is more dear than life.
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