The Hottentot by Thomas Pringle Lyrics

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 join'd 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.