There, 'mid these signs of his superior place, 60 Sat the mild ruler of this humble race. Within the row are men who strove in vain, Through years of trouble, wealth and ease to gain; Less must they have than an appointed sum, And freemen been, or hither must not come; They should be decent and command respect (Though needing fortune,) whom these doors protect, And should for thirty dismal years have tried For peace unfelt and competence denied. Strange, that o'er men thus train'd in sorrow's school, 70 Power must be held, and they must live by rule! Infirm, corrected by misfortunes, old, Their habits settled and their passions cold; Of health, wealth, power, and worldly cares, bereft, Still must they not at liberty be left; There must be one to rule them, to restrain And guide the movements of his erring train. If then control imperious, check severe, Be needed where such reverend men appear; To what would youth, without such checks, aspire, 80 Free the wild wish, uncurb'd the strong desire? And where (in college or in camp) they found The heart ungovern'd and the hand unbound? His house endow'd, the generous man resign'd All power to rule, nay power of choice declined; He and the female saint survived to view Their work complete, and bade the world adieu! Six are the guardians of this happy seat, And one presides when they on business meet; As each expires, the five a brother choose; 90 Nor would Sir Denys Brand the charge refuse; True, 'twas beneath him, "but to do men good Was motive never by his heart withstood." He too is gone, and they again must strive To find a man in whom his gifts survive. Now, in the various records of the dead, Thy worth, Sir Denys, shall be weigh'd and read; There we the glory of thy house shall trace, With each alliance of thy noble race. Yes! here we have him!--"Came in William's reign 100 The Norman-Brand, the blood without a stain; From the fierce Dane and ruder Saxon clear, Pict, Irish, Scot, or Cambrian mountaineer; But the pure Norman was the sacred spring, And he, Sir Denys, was in heart a king: Erect in person and so firm in soul, Fortune he seem'd to govern and control; "Generous as he who gives his all away, Prudent as one who toils for weekly pay; In him all merits were decreed to meet-- 110 Sincere though cautious, frank and yet discreet; Just all his dealings, faithful every word; His passions' master, and his temper's lord." Yet more, kind dealers in decaying fame? His magnanimity you next proclaim; You give him learning, join'd with sound good sense, And match his wealth with his benevolence; What hides the multitude of sins, you add-- Yet seem to doubt if sins he ever had. Poor honest Truth! thou writ'st of living men, 120