Epitaph

Beauty, who softly walkest all thy days

In silken garments to the tunes of praise; --

Lover, whose dreamings by the green-banked river,

Where once she wandered, fain would last for ever; --

King, whom the nations scan, adoring scan,

And shout "a god", when sin hath marked thee man; --

Bard, on whose brow the Hyblan dew remains,

Albeit the fever burneth in the veins; --

Hero, whose sword in tyrant's blood is hot; --

Sceptic, who doubting, wouldst be doubted not; --

Man, whosoe'er thou art, whate'er thy trust; --

Respect thyself in me; -- thou treadest

dust.