268 CONSOLATIONS OF SOLITUDE
Not spoken vauntingly ! Thou wast impelled By love of thine own kind ; the rights of men
By thee were in such estimation held,
That life without them but as death had been.
Still lenient in all trifling things, from thee
Well-meaning weakness needed ne'er to flee ;
Guilt only feared thy frown, and soulless tyranny. '5
Yet why should I such things of thee relate 1 They scarce can add new lustre to thy name ;
I would not that a life so truly great
Seem blown to greatness by the breath of Fame,
Which cannot more ennoble men like thee :
Such scarce are honored by celebrity.
O, no ! true virtue still its own reward must be.
I'm glad thou didst die poor, that flattery's voice Deigns scarcely to applaud ; for, if the upright Might always in prosperity rejoice,
Life would no moral point, would shed no light ; Selfish and wise would be as one, and then The good would seem but what the bad have been — Well-doers, not for good's sake, but to be seen of men.
Here will I leave thee, then, without a sigh
For what is lost, but what lives of thee cherish ; Since with thy words thine influence shall not die,
I am content ; thou shalt not wholly perish. Each good life doth lost faith in good restore. And that good men have lived, though now no more, Impels to greater worth than earth hath known before.
Sleep on — no monument of marble pride
To mark thy grave, no flattering tongues nor pens
To praise thee! Thus thou wouldst have lived — thus died One amongst undistinguished citizens.
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