 | Carolina |  |
Ancient has been the use to mourn in Verse;
And Poets, more than Heralds, grac'd the Herse.
The sacred heat that did their Breasts inflame,
By Muses fann'd, kindled the breath of Fame.
Hence to diviner heights did Worth aspire,
And brighter shin'd than in the Fun'ral Fire.
To Heroes only did their Verse belong;
Immortal Acts found an immortal Song.
'Twas Merit then did only purchase Praise;
Nor could a Crown of Gold bribe one of Bays.
Your noble Father their choice Skill had try'd;
Had he in those days either liv'd or dy'd.
And though I am unfit to sing his Name,
This Epitaph I sacrifice to Fame.
And Poets, more than Heralds, grac'd the Herse.
The sacred heat that did their Breasts inflame,
By Muses fann'd, kindled the breath of Fame.
Hence to diviner heights did Worth aspire,
And brighter shin'd than in the Fun'ral Fire.
To Heroes only did their Verse belong;
Immortal Acts found an immortal Song.
'Twas Merit then did only purchase Praise;
Nor could a Crown of Gold bribe one of Bays.
Your noble Father their choice Skill had try'd;
Had he in those days either liv'd or dy'd.
And though I am unfit to sing his Name,
This Epitaph I sacrifice to Fame.
| Carolina | |