Along the cool sequestered vale of life 75
They kept the noiseless tenor of their way.

Yet ev'n these bones from insult to protect,
Some frail memorial still[13] erected nigh,
With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture decked,
Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. 80

Their name, their years, spelt by th' unlettered Muse,[14]
The place of fame and elegy supply:
And many a holy text around she strews,
That teach the rustic moralist to die.

For who, to dumb Forgetfulness a prey, 85
This pleasing anxious being e'er resigned,
Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day,
Nor cast one longing, ling'ring look behind?

On some fond breast the parting soul relies,
Some pious drops the closing eye requires; 90
Ev'n from the tomb the voice of Nature cries,
Ev'n in our ashes live their wonted fires.

For thee, who mindful of th' unhonored Dead[15]
Dost in these lines their artless tale relate;
If chance,[16] by lonely Contemplation led, 95
Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate,

Haply some hoary-headed swain[17] may say,
"Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn