EPITAPH

Stop, Christian passer-by!— Stop, child of God,

And read with gentle breast. Beneath this sod

A poet lies, or that which once seem'd he.

O, lift one thought in prayer for S. T. C.;

That he who many a year with toil of breath

Found death in life, may here find life in death!

Mercy for praise — to be forgiven for fame

He ask'd, and hoped, through Christ. Do thou the same!