Has screwed us hard and sore;
I would he had a worthy bard
To sing his praises more.
Peace to thine ashes, Calculus,
Peace to thy much-tried shade;
Thy weary task is over now,
Thy wandering ghost is laid.’
The ashes were collected, placed in an urn, and enclosed in the coffin. A salute was then fired by the college artillery. The epitaph, like that upon the grave of the three hundred who fell at Thermopylæ, was brief but full of meaning, having on the tablet at the head,—
CALCULUS,
on that at the foot,—