 | Miscellanies (1785) |  |
231
EPITAPH ON ------
What tho' no titles speak thy modest worth,Nor proud processions, nor the pomps of birth;
Nor trophied tombs where labour'd emblems shine
To mark, in gloomy state, an ancient line
Of Kings and heroes crumbling near the spot,
Where ev'ry folly but their Pride's forgot?
The glare of fortune and the swell of blood,
Ill suits the decent grave, that holds the good;
Ill suits, oh parent shade! thy humble dust,
Which asks no flatt'ry from the breathing bust:
Far other power, no marble can impart,
Records the hist'ry of a father's heart;
Far other incense shall thy ashes grace,
Ah dear support and comfort of thy race!
232
In balmy tribute from thy childrens sighs,
The bosom'd shrines that own thy deathless sway,
No moth shall perish, and no worm decay;
A son's mute grief shall make thy fame more clear,
Thy virtues shine more graceful in the tear,
That duteous bathes a daughter's cheek, than all
The vaunting plumage of the gorgeous pall,
And more true honour from such offering springs
Than the mock woe which grandeur buys for Kings.
| Miscellanies (1785) | |