On Fergusson

Ill-fated genius! Heaven-taught Fergusson,
What heart that feels and will not yield a tear,
To think life's sun did set e'er well begun
To shed its influence on thy bright career.

O why should truest worth and genius pine
Beneath the iron grasp of want and woe,
While titled knaves and idiot-greatness shine
In all the splendour fortune can bestow?