To a good Man of most dear memory[22] This Stone is sacred.[23] Here he lies apart From the great city where he first drew breath, Was reared and taught; and humbly earned his bread, To the strict labours of the merchant’s desk 5 By duty chained. Not seldom did those tasks Tease, and the thought of time so spent depress, His spirit, but the recompense was high; Firm Independence, Bounty’s rightful sire; Affections, warm as sunshine, free as air; 10 And when the precious hours of leisure came, Knowledge and wisdom, gained from converse sweet With books, or while he ranged the crowded streets With a keen eye, and overflowing heart: So genius triumphed over seeming wrong, 15 And poured out truth in works by thoughtful love Inspired--works potent over smiles and tears. And as round mountain-tops the lightning plays, Thus innocently sported, breaking forth As from a cloud of some grave sympathy, 20 Humour and wild instinctive wit, and all The vivid flashes of his spoken words. From the most gentle creature nursed in fields[24] Had been derived the name he bore--a name, Wherever christian altars have been raised, 25 Hallowed to meekness and to innocence; And if in him meekness at times gave way, Provoked out of herself by troubles strange, Many and strange, that hung about his life;[25] Still, at the centre of his being, lodged 30 A soul by resignation sanctified: And if too often, self-reproached, he felt That innocence belongs not to our kind, A power that never ceased to abide in him, Charity, ’mid the multitude of sins[26] 35 That she can cover, left not his exposed To an unforgiving judgment from just Heaven. O, he was good, if e’er a good Man lived! From a reflecting mind and sorrowing heart Those simple lines flowed with an earnest wish, 40 Though but a doubting hope, that they might serve Fitly to guard the precious dust of him Whose virtues called them forth. That aim is missed; For much that truth most urgently required Had from a faltering pen been asked in vain: 45 Yet, haply, on the printed page received, The imperfect record, there, may stand unblamed As long as verse of mine shall breathe the air Of memory, or see the light of love.[27]