To Each His Suff'rings: All Are Men,

E'en From The Tomb The Voice Of Nature Cries, E'en In Our Ashes Live Their Wonted Fires.

Can Storied Urn, Or Animated Bust Back To Its Mansion Call The Fleeting Breath? Can Honour's Voice Provoke The Silent Dust, Or Flatt'ry Soothe The Dull Cold Ear Of Death?

Large Was His Bounty, And His Soul Sincere, Heaven Did A Recompense As Largely Send: He Gave To Mis'ry (all He Had) A Tear, He Gained From Heav'n ('t Was All He Wish'd) A Friend.

To Brisk Notes In Cadence Beating, Glance Their Many-twinkling Feet.

O'er Her Warm Cheek, And Rising Bosom, Move The Bloom Of Young Desire And Purple Light Of Love.