Classic Poem

NOT altogether wicked—but so weak,
That greater villains made of him their tool;
Not void of talent—yet so much a fool
As honour by dishonest means to seek:
Proud to the humble, to the haughty meek;
In flattery servile, insolent in rule;
Keen for his own—for others' interest cool;
Hate in his heart, and smiles upon his cheek.
This man, with abject meanness joined to pride,
Was yet a pleasant fellow in his day;
For all unseemly traits he well could hide.
Whene'er he mingled with the great and gay.
—But he is buried now—and, when he died,
No one seemed sorry that he was away!