FOR WHO, TO DUMB FORGETFULNESS A PREY, LEFT THE WARM THIS PLEASING ANXIOUS BEING E'ER RESIGN'D, 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, |