Richard Savage, whose birthday falls in January, was a close friend of Johnson who celebrated his unfortunate life and death in prison from liver failure. This passage is from a longer satire “The Authors.” Note how brutally relevant are down to the last detail, e.g., the stupid press’s attack on inoculation and their cruelty toward the unfortunate.
He will come like last leaf’s fall.
One night when the November wind
has flayed the trees to the bone, and earth
wakes choking on the mould
This is a poem I loved in the days I regarded myself as a cynical roué and was only a very foolish romantic.