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By George Outram: Containing a number of new pieces & fifteen illustrations by Edward J. Sullivan

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AN EPITAPH AND RETROSPECT
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AN EPITAPH AND RETROSPECT

Beneath this rude and little honoured urn
The bones of one still little loved repose:
Few know or care what cause he had to mourn,
And fewer still could sorrow for his woes.

148

Nor cold nor hunger cursed his lowly fate;
Nor faithlessness of friends, nor scorn of men;
Nor vain ambitious dreams, found false too late;
Nor rude oppression caused his bosom's pain.
He loved mankind—he still was just and true—
Still he brought succour to the weak and poor;
He wished to make each mourner glad—but few,
Few were his means the bleeding soul to cure.
If you have ever grieved, he grieved for you—
For every woe his sympathy could claim;
He wept for all, while yet his tears could flow—
Now he is gone!—and who will weep for him?