 | My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays |  |
EPITAPH,
ON DOCTOR ANDRE CARENTE.
This Soi-disant materialist, with an Infidel head, but a feeling heart; wasteful in prosperity, and discarded in distress, was finally suffered to perish, amid the bitterness of unremembered services and unregarded poverty; having experienced the contrasted extremes of prodigal affluence, and deserted indigence.
This Soi-disant materialist, with an Infidel head, but a feeling heart; wasteful in prosperity, and discarded in distress, was finally suffered to perish, amid the bitterness of unremembered services and unregarded poverty; having experienced the contrasted extremes of prodigal affluence, and deserted indigence.
Here to his kindred earth by ills resigned,
Carente, the doubting son of science lies;
In this cold cell is fixed that faultering mind,
Inflamed by wisdom, but yet never wise.
Carente, the doubting son of science lies;
In this cold cell is fixed that faultering mind,
Inflamed by wisdom, but yet never wise.
If, in the hour his traitorous fortune smiled,
Averse he viewed the worldly art to save;
At last by fortune and her sons beguiled,
He lived to ask that bread he wasteful gave.
Averse he viewed the worldly art to save;
At last by fortune and her sons beguiled,
He lived to ask that bread he wasteful gave.
If shades of error cloud his guideless day,
As no divinity but CHANCE he knew;
Seek not to draw the hiding veil away;
But own by chance full many a suffering grew.
As no divinity but CHANCE he knew;
Seek not to draw the hiding veil away;
But own by chance full many a suffering grew.
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When chilled by scorn, with broken-hearted care,
Lonely, and lost, he heaved his trembling breath;
One friend he found—blest refuge of despair,—
One only kind remembering friend in death.
Lonely, and lost, he heaved his trembling breath;
One friend he found—blest refuge of despair,—
One only kind remembering friend in death.
| My Mind and its Thoughts, in Sketches, Fragments, and Essays | |