Is A BARD's EPITAPH. there a whim-inspired fool, Owre faft for thought, owre hot for rule, Let him draw near: And owre this graffy heap fing dool, And drap a tear. Is there a Bard of ruftic fong, Who, notelefs, fteals the crouds among, That weekly this area throng, O, pafs not by! But, with a frater-feeling strong, Here, heave a figh, Is there a man, whofe judgment clear, Can others teach the course to steer, Yet runs, himself, life's mad career, Wild as the wave, Here paufe-and, thro' the ftarting tear, Survey this grave! The poor Inhabitant below, Was quick to learn and wife to know, And keenly felt the friendly glow, And fofter flame ; But thoughtlefs follies laid him low, And ftain'd his name! Reader, attend-whether thy foul Soars fancy's flights beyond the pole, Or darkling grubs this earthly hole, In low purfuit, Know, prudent, cautious, felf-controul ls Wifdom's root, FIN I S. |
