''At eve within yon studious uook, 

 I ope my brass-embossed book. 

 Portrayed with mang a holy deed 

 Of martyrs, croivned with heavenly meed — 

 Then, as my taper waxes dim. 

 Chant, ere I sleep my measured hymri. 

 And, at the close the gleams behold. 

 Of parting wings, bedropt with gold.'' 



— Warton. 



