Epitaph on a Celebrated Coach-Maker.
Once in the gilded chariot high,
I sat in worldly state;
Now in the darksome tomb I lie,
The chariot built by fate.
Yet in this carriage form’d of dust
I hope one day to gain
The place where dwell the good and just;
And endless pleasures reign.
This is the chariot that must bring
The GREAT and SMALL at last,
Before their Judge and Heav’nly King:
When earthly joys are past.