"At eve within yon studious nook, 

 I ope my brass-embossed book, 

 Portrayed unth mang a holy deed 

 Of martyrs, crowned with heavenly meed- 

 Then, as my taper waxes dim. 

 Chant, ere I sleep my measured hymn. 

 And, at the close the gleams behold. 

 Of parting wings, bedropt with gold." 



— Warton. 



