THE BOAST OF HERALDRY, THE POMP OF POW'R ,

AND ALL THAT BEAUTY, ALL THAT WEALTH E'ER GAVE,
AWAIT ALIKE TH' INEVITABLE HOUR,

THE PATHS OF GLORY LEAD BUT TO THE GRAVE.

.

NOR YOU, YE PROUD, IMPUTE TO THESE THE FAULT,

IF MEMORY O'BR THEIR TOMB NO TROPHIES RAISE ,

BREATH ?

CAN HONOUR'S VOICE PROVOKE THE SILENT DUST,

OR FLATTRY SOOTHE THE DULL COLD EAR OF DEATH?

PERHAPS

IN

THIS NEGLECTED

SPOT IS

LAID

SOME HEART ONCE PREGNANT WITH CELESTIAL FIRE ;
HANDS, THAT THE ROD OF EMPIRE MIGHT HAVE SWAY'D,

OR WAK'D TO EXTASY THE LIVING LYRE: