A plant too noble for this noxious clime:

Where virtue must triumphant ever smile,

He’ll share of joys extatic and sublime.

Vain are thy sorrows, vain the sighs of those,

Who did his favour or his friendship share:

He’s gone beyond the reach of human woes,

Above the weight of ev’ry worldly care.

Pure were the virtues center’d in his breast,

With unassuming rectitude they sway’d:

His tongue the dictates of his heart express’d,