EPITAPHS.

ON

A CELEBRATED RULING ELDER.

HERE SOwter **** in death does sleep;

To h-ll, if he's gane thither,
Satan, gie him thy gear to keep,

He'll haud it weel thegither.

ON

ON A NOISY POLEMIC.

BELOW thir stanes lie Jamie's banes:
O death, it's my opinion,

Thou ne'er took such a bleth'rin b-tch
Into thy dark dominion!

ON WEE JOHNNY.

Hic jacet wee Johnnie.

WHOE'ER thou art, O reader, know,

That death has murder'd Johnnie!

An' here his body lies fu' low-
For saul he ne'er had ony.

FOR THE AUTHOR'S FATHER.

O YE whose cheek the tear of pity stains, Draw near with pious rev'rence and attend! Here lie the loving husband's dear remains, The tender father, and the gen'rous friend.

The

The pitying heart that felt for human woe;
The dauntless heart that fear'd no human pride;
The friend of man, to vice alone a foe;
"For ev❜n his failings lean'd to virtue's side."*

FOR R. A. ESQ.

KNOW thou, O stranger to the fame
Of this much lov'd, much honour'd name!
(For none that knew him need be told)
A warmer heart death ne'er made cold.

FOR G. H. ESQ.

THE poor man weeps here G-n sleeps,
Whom canting wretches blam'd:
But with such as he, where'er he be,
May I be sav'd or d―d!

VOL. III.

*Goldsmith.

X

A BARD'S

A BARD'S EPITAPH.

Is there a whim-inspired fool,
Owre fast for thought, owre hot for rule,
Owre blate to seek, owre proud to snool,
Let him draw near;

And owre this grassy heap sing dool,
And drap a tear.

Is there a bard of rustic song,
Who, noteless, steals the crowds among,
That weekly this area throng,

O, pass not by!

But, with a frater-feeling strong,

Here, heave a sigh.

Is there a man, whose judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer,

Yet runs, himself, life's mad career,

Wild as the wave;

Here pause-and, through the starting tear,

Survey this grave.

The

The poor inhabitant below,

Was quick to learn and wise to know,

And keenly felt the friendly glow,
And softer flame,

But thoughtless follies laid him low,

And stain'd his name!

Reader, attend-whether thy soul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low pursuit ;

Know, prudent, cautious self-control,

Is wisdom's root..