That beat thy tender blossom to the earth;
For thee we grieve not; certain that the soul
Yet sinless, bursting from its earthy clod,
Is borne on angel wings beyond the pole,
Where infant innocence hath place with God.
EPITAPH
ON SIR CHARLES TURNER, BART. IN THE FAMILY MAUSOLEUM AT KIRK LEATHAM, YORKSHIRE.
Beneath this hallow’d vault, this awful shade,
Amidst his generous Forefathers laid,
Lo Turner sleeps, the latest of his race,