PROOP

FOR WHO, TO DUMB FORGETFULNESS A PREY,

THIS PLEASING ANXIOUS BEING E'ER RESIGN'D,
LEFT THE WARM PRECINCTS OF THE CHEERFUL DAY,
NOR CAST ONE LONGING LING'RING LOOK BEHIND?

ON SOME FOND BREAST THE PARTING SOUL RELIES,
SOME PIOUS DROPS THE CLOSING EYE REQUIRES;
E'EN FROM THE TOMB THE VOICE OF NATURE CRIES,
E'EN IN OUR ASHES LIVE THEIR WONTED FIRES.

FOR THEE, WHO, MINDFUL OF TH'UNHONOUR'D DEAD,

DOST IN THESE LINES THEIR ARTLESS TALE RELATE;
IF CHANCE, BY LONELY CONTEMPLATION LED,

SOME KINDRED SPIRIT SHALL ENQUIRE THY FATE,

PLATE XIV

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