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EPITAPH.
I.
Consign'd to earth, here rests the lifeless clay,
Which once a vital spark from heav'n inspir'd,
The lamp of genius shone full bright its day,
Then left the world to mourn its light retir'd.
II.
While burns that splendid orb which lights the spheres,
While mountain streams descend to swell the main,
While changeful seasons mark the rolling years,
Thy fame, O Burns! let Scotia still retain.
I.
A Few fleeting years are now over and gone,
Since thou, pleasing Bard, first appear'd to our view;
Enlighten'd by Genius, true Genius alone;
Delighted we saw thee thy progress pursue.
II.
We beheld in thy strains the solemn and the gay;
To Nature still true they came home to the heart;
Despising the weak finely polished lay,
Thou cast far behind the refinements of art.
III.
But ah! what avail'd it that Heaven did bestow
A mind so capacious all Nature to scan;
Shall I point out those frailties which humbled thee low,
And levell'd thee down with the weakest of man.
IV.
No! Peace to thy shade-let thy frailties repose
