The Knell Of Whitehead Tolls! - His Cares Are Past, The Hapless Tribute Of His Purchas'D Lays, His Servile, His Egyptian Tasks Of Praise! - If Not Sublime His Strains, Fame Justly Plac'D Their Power Above Their Work. - Now, With Wide Gaze Of Much Indignant Wonder, She Surveys To The Life-Labouring Oar Assiduous Haste A Glowing Bard, By Every Muse Embrac'D. - O, Warton! Chosen Priest Of Phoebus' Choir! Shall Thy Rapt Song Be Venal? Hymn The Throne, Whether Its Edicts Just Applause Inspire, Or Patriot Virtue View Them With A Frown? What Needs For This The Golden-Stringed Lyre, The Snowy Tunic, And The Sun-Bright Zone[1]! 1: Ensigns Of Apollo'S Priesthood.