"Some days elaps'd, I jogg'd quite brave on And found my Trumbull at New-Haven; Than whom, more humour never man did Possess—nor lives a soul more candid— But who, unsung, would know hereafter, The repartees, and peals of laughter, Or how much glee those laughters yield one, Maugre the system Chesterfieldian! Barlow I saw, and here began My friendship for that spotless man; Whom, though the world does not yet know it, Great nature form'd her loftiest poet. But Dwight was absent at North-Hampton, That bard sublime, and virtue's champion. To whom the charms of verse belong, The father, of our epic song!"