| CONDEMN'D to Hope's delusive mine, | |
| As on we toil from day to day, | |
| By sudden blasts or slow decline | |
| Our social comforts drop away. | |
| |
| Well tried through many a varying year, | 5 |
| See Levet to the grave descend, | |
| Officious, innocent, sincere, | |
| Of every friendless name the friend. | |
| |
| Yet still he fills affection's eye, | |
| Obscurely wise and coarsely kind; | 10 |
| Nor, letter'd Arrogance, deny | |
| Thy praise to merit unrefined. | |
| |
| When fainting nature call'd for aid, | |
| And hov'ring death prepared the blow, | |
| His vig'rous remedy display'd | 15 |
| The power of art without the show. | |
| |
| In Misery's darkest cavern known, | |
| His useful care was ever nigh, | |
| Where hopeless Anguish pour'd his groan, | |
| And lonely Want retired to die. | 20 |
| |
| No summons mock'd by chill delay, | |
| No petty gain disdained by pride; | |
| The modest wants of every day | |
| The toil of every day supplied. | |
| |
| His virtues walk'd their narrow round, | 25 |
| Nor made a pause, nor left a void; | |
| And sure th' Eternal Master found | |
| The single talent well employ'd. | |
| |
| The busy day, the peaceful night, | |
| Unfelt, uncounted, glided by; | 30 |
| His frame was firm—his powers were bright, | |
| Though now his eightieth year was nigh. | |
| |
| Then with no fiery throbbing pain, | |
| No cold gradations of decay, | |
| Death broke at once the vital chain, | 35 |
| And freed his soul the nearest way. | |
