University of Virginia Library


32

Elegy on a Poor Man's Grave.

Tho' Pride may trample on the uncouth grave
Where sleep the ashes of the lowly dead;
Altho' Misfortune's child no tomb may save
Thy mouldering dust from every giddy tread.
Yet Pity with a meek unpurchas'd tear
Thy nameless sod shall wet in saddest guise,
While the wan dupe of faithless Hope shall bear
A garland quaint, and mutter “There he lies!”
And there, as Evening lingers in the vale,
Her fairy hands the pearly dew shall spread
Her mist-clad power shall waft the gentle gale
To fan the flowers that deck thy earthy bed.
And there shall lifeless Melancholy dwell
And musing gaze th'upbraiding object near,
Her frequent sigh (neglected Virtue's knell)
Shall touch some desultory poet's ear.

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For oh! the fate that mark'd thy life's sad day
Tho' thou might'st boast pre-eminence of worth,
That luckless fate has just allow'd thy clay
A poor unheeded sod of simple earth.
For thou hast pin'd in Grief's unsparing storm,
Tho' thy breast felt Affection's warmest glow,
Yet none would house want's unattractive form
Or note a boastless tale of real woe.
Yet oh! thou conscious tho' neglected shade
Accept a passing Brother's casual tear,
A tribute pure tho' impotent to aid,
But seldom given to soothe Misfortune here.