And the voice of men shall call,
"He is fallen like us all,
Though the weapon of read more

And the voice of men shall call,
"He is fallen like us all,
Though the weapon of the Lord was in his hand:"
And thine epitaph shall be--
"He was wretched ev'n as we;"
And thy tomb may be unhonoured in the land.

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below, he did read more

His form was of the manliest beauty,
His heart was kind and soft,
Faithful, below, he did his duty;
But now he's gone aloft.

A tomb now suffices him for whom the whole word was not
sufficient.
[Lat., Sufficit huic tumulus, cui read more

A tomb now suffices him for whom the whole word was not
sufficient.
[Lat., Sufficit huic tumulus, cui non suffecerit orbis.]

Here lies who, born a man, a grocer died.
[Fr., Ne homme--mort epicier.]

Here lies who, born a man, a grocer died.
[Fr., Ne homme--mort epicier.]

Ecce quod expendi habui, quod donavi habeo, quod negavi punior,
quod servavi perdidi.

Ecce quod expendi habui, quod donavi habeo, quod negavi punior,
quod servavi perdidi.

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven read more

Ere sin could blight or sorrow fade,
Death came with friendly care;
The opening bud to Heaven conveyed,
And bade it blossom there.

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

And be the Spartan's epitaph on me--
"Sparta hath many a worthier son than he."

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
read more

Farewell, vain world, I've had enough of thee,
And Valies't not what thou Can'st say of me;
Thy Smiles I count not, nor thy frowns I fear,
My days are past, my head lies quiet here.
What faults you saw in me take Care to shun,
Look but at home, enough is to be done.

Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
That this is all remains of thee?

Shrine of the mighty! can it be,
That this is all remains of thee?